The gap between us narrowed and I delved for my keys. It took one flick of the button to release the central locking mechanism but as the lights on the side panels blinked, something in the atmosphere changed. A roar shattered the silence as the black car tore away, and by the time I leapt into my car it had gone.
Bursting through the door of my flat, I felt dizzy, unprepared for the sight of Joe waiting in the lounge. He looked terrible. It was likely he had barely slept a wink either, and with his messy bed hair sticking out at odd angles and a shadow of beard growth, his face looked even more drawn and haunted.
“Maisie,” he said, his voice tight with anxiety. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Just a walk on the beach,” I frowned. “I needed to clear my head.”
“Thank God,” he breathed, “I’ve been crapping myself. I thought something might have happened to you...”
Sorrow darkened his eyes as he glanced at me. I desperately wanted to throw my arms around him but considering the way I had so brutally rejected him, I held back, sensing there was more.
“Look, about last night... I’m sorry if I got carried away.”
“Joe, please don’t apologise,” I begged him. “It’s nothing personal, I assure you, I’m just a bit screwed up in the head right now... I saw that black car again! I tried to get the number plate but the driver shot off so fast, I never had a chance to get close enough!”
Joe turned away with a snort as he took this in. “Well, that just proves it was following you all along...” He never got to finish.
New notifications came pouring into his mobile at an alarming rate, giving him no choice but to grab it before I did.
“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.
My heart sank as he drifted into the light of the window, his face ashen.
“Not your trolls again?”
“Yup!” Joe spat and holding out his phone, took a screen shot.
@JosephofWinterfell you’re nothing but a #waster and a #druggie with a #criminal record. Next time you’re in town do everyone a favour and throw yourself under a bus.
PIECE OF SHIT!!!
“One from ‘The_Watchman’ but there’s more...”
Without delay he tapped the next notification, and a moment later I heard the breath catch in his throat.
“Oh God, what now?” I whispered in dread.
“This arsehole goes by the name ‘ShadowoftheGrange.’”
“As in Orchard Grange?”
“I imagine so,” he sighed.
“What does it say then?”
“It don’t matter. I ain’t gonna to read it to you.”
A blaze of anger splashed some colour into his cheeks but I could feel the tension billowing. Whoever was posting these messages had a really nasty vendetta and given time, it was bound to gnaw at his confidence.
“You’ve got to report this, Joe,” I said and moving away from the window, I sagged into the sofa. “Surely Twitter can bar such people.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “but for now, I’m gonna keep taking screen shots. Let’s see how nasty the fuckers get, ‘cos it will all count as evidence. That and this bloody car that’s following you!”
“True,” I agreed. “I don’t understand how you can stay so calm, though. If it was me, I’d be having a nervous breakdown - but speaking of gathering evidence, there’s something else I wanted to tell you.”
He forced a smile. “Go on.”
“I spoke to my friend, Sarah, the one I told you about weeks ago when we were talking about looking into Sam’s case.”
“And did she agree to help?”
“Yes,” I nodded, and numb from our conversation, I had reached a decision. “See, if Sarah can’t locate him and there are no traces of him whatsoever, we have got to talk to the police.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joe didn’t bother checking his Twitter feed for the next few days. He appeared calm enough from Maisie’s perspective, but he masked his emotions well.
Deep down, he was quaking. No matter how hard he tried telling himself the messages couldn’t harm him, they tied his stomach up in knots. But he was damned if he was going to admit that; not when he stood at a pivotal crossroads in his life.
Let the evil fuckers play their sick games.
That tiny seed of defiance thrived in him because a week later, he had something to celebrate; no longer another statistic on the jobless front but the latest employee in Sainsbury’s online shopping department.
The first hurdle had been the interview. He would never forget the lingering smile on Maisie’s face after she had dropped him off at the entrance.
“Good luck, Joe, you can do it.”
Such faith was all he needed for the next phase when he was introduced to the manager, Vicky. In some ways, she reminded him of dear Martha, the banter between them more like a chat over a coffee than an interview. Given the online vitriol he had suffered, it hadn’t taken long for the ‘trolls’ to remind him how sordid his life had once been.
A waster and a druggie with a criminal record.
Joe’s heart thumped. As if it wasn’t shameful enough to confess he had served time, but he had to come clean. This was a golden opportunity to put right past wrongs and redeem himself - a second chance - and he could not afford to blow it.
Even Vicky said that took guts and to his credit, had taken a real shine to him as confirmed in a text next day. Suddenly the world shone brighter and one week after accepting her job offer, he had completed the training, all set to step back into the workplace.
******
For the next week he rode on a rollercoaster of highs and lows.
On the days he worked his shift, he set off before dawn, the darkness so heavy it blurred the edges of the world. The fifteen minute walk to Sainsbury’s was not an ideal situation. For all the while the town hung in eerie silence, he couldn’t shift the fear of how vulnerable he was, especially with enemies on the prowl.
That left one more dilemma to reflect on: Maisie.
Where exactly did he stand with her?
Their chance reunion was the best thing that had happened to him and reliving childhood memories, they had formed an unusual, almost symbiotic relationship. Nothing could change the past. He accepted that. Although her entire focus seemed to be on tracing Sam now.
The trouble was he no longer saw her as that frightened little girl he had locked in the laundry room. Maisie had blossomed into a beauty and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
Yet ever since the night he had kissed her, she seemed to have withdrawn into a shell. Perpetually trying to convince him that she was the one who had hangups, she had so little confidence. What Joe found hardest to swallow, though, was her fear that any intimacy between them would destroy their friendship.
How could she think like that? Or more to the point, why?
Maisie was a stunner, which left him wondering if anyone had treated her badly in life, eroding away her confidence... If that were the case, he thought, then whoever they were they needed their heads kicking in – though he kept these thoughts to himself.
“I’ve decided to book another therapy session,” she announced.
Pottering around, sorting clothes out in readiness to go away, no one but Maisie could have been more congratulatory on his job success.
Yet she seemed determined to stick to her agenda and visit Sarah.
“As long as it doesn’t upset you as much as the last time,” he commented. “Remember the state I found you in when I got home?”
“Yes, but I’m over that,” Maisie shrugged. “At least we talked...”
Her glazed expression told him otherwise. He watched in a dream as she pulled another top out of the laundry basket, draping it over the ironing board.
“Mandy said the whole point of psychotherapy was to unlock painful memories and once purged, I can move on.”
“Really?” Joe murmured, his eyes transfixed on her hands as they slid back
and forth along the ironing board. “So what are you gonna talk about this time?”
“I have to go back to the party scene, where I left it...”
“Maisie,” he added gently, “don’t torture yourself over this.”
His words seemed to trigger a reaction and looking up from the ironing board, she finally met his eye.
“I’m not, but I thought about this last night. Before I see Sarah, supposing I try to figure out what I remember? About Sam I mean...”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hannah Adams. Registered Psychotherapist and Counsellor. West Sussex
Client: Maisie Bell
2nd April 2015
“It’s good to see you again, Maisie. How are things since I saw you last?”
“Not too bad,” I began. “Joe and I have been talking things over. I wanted to know more about his memories.”
“Yes,” Hannah nodded. “You were telling me about a party he tried to shield you from but you got upset. I had to bring you out of your trance.”
With a shivering breath, I recoiled into my chair. “I-it merged into a scene from one of my nightmares, as if the two are in some way connected.”
“Take it steady,” her voice ebbed. “Relax and think about where you are now. There is no danger in my therapy room and you are quite safe. Just let your mind wander into the past...”
I concentrated on the melody of her voice, the way it undulated, slower, deeper, guiding the rhythm of my breathing, and only then did I let the shadows creep in.
“The last dream was the worst ever,” I shuddered.
“You’ve mentioned a forest before now.”
“Yes, a forest... whispers, a procession of hooded figures...”
God, how I loathed having to describe it again, yet somewhere in the mist of memories, the air began to turn cold like an icy weight pressing down on me.
“The red ribbon freaked me out, the ends fluttering in the breeze. I saw a circle of trees above my head and that’s when I sensed something evil going on in the forest.”
“What sort of evil? Can you bear to explain it?”
“I’ll try,” I said numbly, “but I was trapped... my wrists were tied. Those figures were coming for us... I felt someone’s hand on me and I screamed.”
“It was a dream, though,” Hannah tried to pacify me. “Isn’t that right?”
As I opened my eyes, my breath shook in shallow gasps. The very concept of what was happening in those woods turned me sick to the core, but these leaks in my subconscious had to be clues, didn’t they? Joe had almost confirmed it.
“No... I don’t think it was. I think we were abused.”
“Maisie,” Hannah said. “If this is a real memory, it has obviously been festering for a while. How do you feel now, after telling me?”
My throat had clammed up. I didn’t want to admit to myself those dreams might be based on a real memory, but deep down lingered the horrors Joe spoke of.
“The human psyche is a strange mechanism. Everything that happens is stored in our memories but some things get locked away. Memories so painful, the brain buries them in a place where they cannot harm us. Such a mechanism exists purely to protect you in your conscious state.”
“Repressed memories,” I murmured. “That’s what my foster mum said all along but how does this help me now? Joe spoke of similar things. I know you said I shouldn’t let him colour my judgement but he thinks Mortimer ran those homes like a business. One that attracted paedophile networks.”
It all seemed much clearer now, my phobia of trees, my fear of intimacy. Was this the reason I felt an aversion? I became so tense, so frozen, it was hard to maintain any sort of trust - flashbacks to when I felt like a victim.
“Paedophile networks,” Hannah’s voice echoed. “Look, I’m not in a position to guide your thoughts or tell you what I think happened, you need to work through the memories to discover the truth for yourself, but you asked how this helps you now. Why not ask yourself the same question? Where do you go from here?”
“There was someone else,” I said, “another boy in our circle. Sam. I’m sure I mentioned him before, but he vanished after one of those parties.”
“So let’s talk about Sam,” she reacted. “Tell me what you remember.”
“Sam was a strange boy, not like the other kids. The first thing that stood out was his beauty. I mean, a lot of the kids had an almost feral look about them, whereas Sam was just adorable.”
His face flickered; clear skin, blonde hair and widely spaced brown eyes. The only flaw I could recall was a jagged scar on his forehead. That aside, though, Sam had an elf-like grace that set him apart – a perpetual gleam of fear in his eyes that lent him a vulnerable look.
“The rougher boys called him a wuss and picked on him without mercy. No one knew much about his background until they discovered his mum was a prostitute.”
With the illusion of purity shattered, they set out to make his life hell.
“That’s when Joe stepped in. He took him under his wing, same as me.”
I could picture the three of us together. There weren’t many places to hide since Mortimer had stepped up security, but Joe’s room offered us a sanctuary. He shared with two boys, including Sam, after some swapping around. His only other roommate was a seemingly harmless, chubby thirteen-year old they called ‘Jabba.’
The echo of Joe’s laugh resonated. ‘Don’t mind Jabba. If he’s not tossing himself off under a blanket, he’s into UFOs and all that weird shit.’
“Joe was such a character,” I chuckled, “it was easy to relax in his company and eventually he got Sam talking about himself. He really loved his Mum, regardless of her occupation. Told us about the days she took him to the park and the zoo. They went to the cinema, ate burgers, visited a gaming arcade to play lasers. She wasn’t short of money, see. Not your average street worker but high class. Stephanie was her name, her clients rich and powerful men. He showed us a photo...”
Hazy but striking, I would never forget that photo. Stephanie Ellis was a stunner. In fact she reminded me a little of Amanda Holden. But picturing that photo sent a chill crawling over me; more so because of the stories Sam associated with it.
“Did he ever mention who his father was?” Hannah probed.
I held my breath, feeling a lump in my throat.
“Joe and I were gob-smacked when he told us... a High Court judge he referred to as Alistair McFadden QC.”
Sam’s eyes smouldered with hurt whenever he spoke of him.
‘He was a nasty piece of work. Stuck up toff, kitted out in a long gown and one of those stupid wigs, looking down his nose at us like we were crap...’
I understood his outrage. Alistair McFadden had abandoned his mother. Wanted nothing more to do with her from the day Sam had been born.
“I found that really sad,” I spluttered. “He could have at least supported them financially but from what Sam said, his mum didn’t dare even add his name to Sam’s birth certificate. She used her own name, Ellis, and Sam endured a somewhat rocky childhood. He couldn’t ignore what his mum did for a living because it affected him too. He told us all his secrets.”
I kept my eyes firmly shut, reliving the time we had been friends. The one thing I remembered about Sam, though, is the way he latched onto me. Joe was the tough one but Sam followed me around like a puppy. He looked so scared, the stories he disclosed worse than anything we imagined. And I was curious to know how he got that scar on his forehead...
‘One of my mum’s punters did that. They were all bastards!’
Pushing back his fringe, I could not help but gasp at the inverted ‘V’ shape gouged into his smooth skin.
‘She told me to stay in my room. Bunged me a video and a bag of crisps to keep me quiet but I couldn’t stay quiet, not when there were all these shouts and screeches coming from upstairs. So I peeked. I know I shouldn’t have done, but...’
I heard a sob. Felt my body stiffen as he relayed the story of
how this punter had turned on him, grabbed a whisky bottle and smashed it over his head. When the police and ambulance were called, Stephanie had to lie to protect Sam. Swore he had fallen against a window pane to avoid Social Services taking him away.
‘She wanted us to get as far, far away as possible after that. Didn’t care about giving up our posh apartment, if we could just start a new life, a different life... and that’s when she talked to my father.’
I could picture his little face crunched up with hurt. Anyone could see how much he loathed his father and it came frothing out in a torrent.
‘I couldn’t stand it either. All those nasty men turning up at night, hurting her. So Mum took a gamble. Visited the Old Bailey and begged to have a word with the judge in private. It was the first time I’d ever met him, but he was horrible... He called her a whore and a slut!’
‘Oh, Sam,’ I heard myself gasp. ‘Why do you suppose he was so rotten to her?’
‘Didn’t want her to bring shame on his family, did he? Said we were an embarrassment... but something changed. She told me out of the blue that he was gonna bung her a few grand to get out of his life for good!’
I remember Joe’s shock. He had been braced by the door, keeping a lookout. This was perhaps the most clandestine conversation we’d ever shared, and Joe wanted to keep him talking.
‘Jesus, mate, that’s heavy. So what went wrong?’
Sam’s mouth twisted into a knot of misery, the tears pooling in his eyes.
‘Mum was killed next day. Police found her in the back of a taxi with a bullet in her head. Murdered. They said it was a punter but... she was mixed up with all sorts of dodgy geezers and it was rumoured she had dirt on someone.’
I felt the tears welling in my own eyes, and squeezed them shut to hold them in. Poor Sam! To think of that sweet, sensitive soul condemned to such a fate, it must have torn him apart. All Joe and I wanted to do was to protect him then, not just from all the other little toe-rags in there but Mortimer and his creepy guards...
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