Jed blinked, “I haven't told him anything. I could ask you exactly the same question. Why did you send Brian the photographs in the first place?”
Before Sullivan could answer, Larry Meres appeared in the kitchen doorway. Jed looked up, startled at his dad's sudden appearance. Sullivan craned his neck and gave a brief nod of greeting. Larry scowled. “I'd like you to leave, detective. Close the door on your way out.”
“I only dropped in to—”
“I know what you came round for, Sullivan. Now, I've told you once, and I'm not going to repeat it. You're not welcome here.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Sullivan stood up, sighing deeply. “This isn't going to go away, Mr Meres. Whatever went on between you and Hannah, it hasn't ended. And what your son is up to, that isn't going to go away either. The pair of you are in it, right up to your necks, and when I find out what exactly has been going on, I'll hunt you down and hang you out to dry – I promise you.”
He pushed past Larry and slammed the door as he went out.
Jed shook his head. “That guy has serious problems.”
Larry shot forward, reaching across the table, taking Jed by the collar and pulling him up close. “You have serious problems, Jed!” Larry's face was red, contorted with rage. “Whatever is going on, I don't want any more of it, do you hear? You went out last night. I don't know what you did or where you went, but from now on you don't do anything, anything without my say-so. Do you understand me?”
Jed could hardly breathe. He tried to free himself of his dad's grip, but it was too strong. “Dad, for God's sake.”
“Do you understand me?”
Unable to think of anything but the pressure on his larynx, Jed blurted out, “Yes!”
Dad let him go and strode out, leaving Jed slumped in his chair, rubbing his neck, trying to hold back the tears.
20
Jed couldn't get over what had happened. His dad had never reacted like that, over anything. Always such a mild-mannered man, the stress had transformed into some sort of demon.
Over the next few days, they exchanged no words, only grunts. Jed went to school, did what he had to do, returned home, ate his tea, went to his room and that was it. The same cycle every day. By Friday, he was so sick of the situation, he made up his mind to confront his dad that same evening.
On his way home, he rehearsed his speech, but something else was playing around in his head. Janet.
Through his scrambled-up feelings over Dad, she was always there, her face filling every moment. He conjured up imagined meetings, holding her hand, stroking her hair, listening to her voice as she told him how much she loved him. In his room, back against his bed, he'd float away, leaving the real world far behind as he dreamed of being with her, holding her. Kissing her lips.
At home, he busied himself making the tea, glancing up at the wall clock every few moments. Dad would be in at any moment, and he hoped the peace-offering of grilled rump steak and fried potatoes would go some way to restoring their relationship.
But by five-forty, there was no sign of Dad.
Jed took the opportunity of doing what he'd rehearsed so many times – phone Janet. He rooted around in his pocket to find the piece of paper with her number scribbled down on it. His hand was shaking as he dialled.
“Hello?” A man's voice came down the line, gruff, unfriendly.
“Can I speak to Janet please?”
“Janet? Who is this?”
Jed took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, going through his lines. “Sorry, I don't mean to disturb you, but I'm a friend. Jed. She might have mentioned me?” It was always a hope. He held his breath.
“Mentioned you? What did you say your name was?”
“Jed. Jed Meres.”
A prolonged silence. Jed could hear the man breathing. He hadn't put the phone down, hadn't shouted out for Janet to come and answer the call. Just the breathing, getting faster. “Look, I don't know who the hell you are, but just bugger off, will you – you're sick, that's what you are. Sick!”
The phone went dead.
Jed stood there, for a long time, just staring at the earpiece, wondering what had just happened.
Larry Meres had made a slight detour on his way home from work. He'd been worried for the best part of the week, worried about what he'd done to Jed. Never had he raised his hand to his son, never felt it necessary, preferring to talk, calmly and patiently. The results spoke for themselves – Jed was a fine lad, despite recent events. He was bright, funny, a normal boy enjoying his youth whilst he still could. To have treated him like that, grabbing him, frightening him, that wasn't right. It wasn't something you were supposed to do, not as a father. A single parent.
He found himself wandering along the curling path leading up to the Breck, an old quarry where he used to play as a boy. A space to run around in, make dens, walk the dog. A simple, pleasant place. This evening, there was nobody about and Larry found a bench, sat down and stared at his hands. A worker's hands, gnarled and roughened through endless years of toil, and all for what? A miscreant son and a failed marriage, with a bored wife, leaving him for another bloke, a bloke who had always been there, in her memories…
Putting his face in his hands, Larry did his best to block out the images, but the one of Jed's terrified face refused to budge. To have taken it all out on him, allowing the frustration, the anger, the sense of betrayal to erupt the way it had – that was unforgiveable. Jed had suffered too, and reacted, in very different ways. A bright future, almost destroyed due to the hurt.
He sat back, the shame of it over-powering. He must apologise, mend the wounds. Jed was all he had now. Tonight. He'd take his son to a restaurant, treat him to whatever he wanted, then just talk it out. They needed to stick together, to help themselves through it all. There was no alternative.
Fired up with this new-found determination, he slapped his knees and stood, stretching, letting the day's aches fade quickly away. As he turned, he saw a figure standing some way off on top of a rocky outcrop. Tall and gangly, his face in heavy shadow, Larry nevertheless felt certain the man was looking straight at him. Bringing up his hand to shield his eyes from the low-lying sun, he tried to get a better view, but he was too far away. How long had he been standing there, Larry wondered. And what the hell was he looking at?
A dog barked behind him and Larry turned to see an elderly couple strolling along the path, laughing, a little Yorkie yapping at their heels, joining in with the fun. Larry's eyes clouded over with sadness for a brief moment. That could have been him and…
Sighing, he went to look again at the mysterious figure watching him.
But the figure had gone.
They talked, the pair of them, until it was late, both conscious of how difficult the next few months were going to be. Stress levels were going to rise, tempers at breaking point sometimes. They made allowances, Larry found the pathway towards an apology and Jed, graciously, accepted it. Although a black cloud remained, it was not longer as ominous as it had once been and slowly the atmosphere between them eased.
Jed went to bed feeling much better, his mind at rest, his sleep untroubled by dreams.
At some point in the night, he sat up in bed, woken by something. He strained to listen in the dark, but the house remained in silence, so he fell back amongst his bedclothes.
This time he did dream. He imagined being alone with Janet, her warm, yielding body next to his. Her arms around him, holding him, the smell of her heady perfume invading his nostrils. Half-asleep, he snuggled closer to her body and she lightly stroked the back of his head, her lips kissing his neck. He sighed.
Then he froze.
This was no dream.
Hardly daring to breathe, he lay there, fully awake now. He had his back to her and he could feel her legs entangled with his, the slight whisper of her breath against his back. Had she broken in, crept upstairs, and slid underneath the sheets to be with him? Was that the sound which had woken him?
S
he was here. Janet.
With his heartbeat pounding in his head, throat constricted, tongue too big for his mouth, he took a tremulous breath and turned to her, his erection rearing.
But it wasn't Janet who lay next to him.
Larry came through the bedroom door at a rush to find Jed in the far corner, dishevelled, face ashen, eyes wide, huddled up like a little child with knees drawn up to his chest, shaking uncontrollably. He'd stuck a thumb in his mouth, mumbling incoherently, rocking backwards and forwards. Following his stare, Larry gazed at the empty bed, the covers thrown back, the impression where bodies had laid still evident. Frowning, not understanding Jed's terror, went over to him, crouched down, and lightly touched his arm.
Jed gave a start, as if waking from a dream and the tears sprang forward and fell into his father's arms and stayed there, sobbing uncontrollably. Larry held him without speaking but, for some reason, he could not resist turning his eyes and fixing them on the empty bed.
21
“The police called me in for questioning,” said Mat. “They had me in there for hours, on and on with the same damned questions. By the time they'd finished I was so wound up that when I finally got home, I couldn't get to sleep. I feel like a bag of shite.”
“You look it.”
“Thanks!”
Mat had met Jed after school and they were now walking home. Jed, unsteady, eyes red-rimmed, was haunted by the previous night, and now there was Mat, sporting his own haunted look.
They walked up Saint Hilary's Brow, taking the long way home. Mat's words ate away the minutes and then, he produced a crumpled and creased photograph. When Jed stared down at the face, he stopped.
“That's Ellen Willis's boyfriend.” Jed frowned into Mat's face. “Sullivan showed me this, so what are you doing with it? Did Sullivan give it to you – do you know him?”
Mat pursed his lips. “There's something you need to know, Jed.” With great care, he delicately plucked the photograph from his brother's fingers and stared at the black and white image. Taken some years previously, Peter Davey's smiling face showed no worries. A life to look forward to. Mat gave a brief smile. “Come on, let's walk into Liscard. I'll buy you a coffee.”
It was coming up to 5 o'clock and the place buzzed with weary shoppers. Jed watched Mat waiting at the counter to be served from the window seat he had managed to find. Between his fingers was the photograph and the more he looked at it, the more he felt he knew the face, but not in person. Peter Davey. Was he famous locally, perhaps? Was that it? A footballer, cricketer, something else? Someone who had appeared in the local press? Jed sighed and sat back, hoping Mat had the answers. Strange that Mat should meet him after school, with no warning. So many years without any form of contact apart from those damned Christmas cards, then everything changing with Mum's leaving. He put down the photograph and ran his hand through his hair, feeling weary and sick of it all.
“We need to talk, Jed.”
He looked up with a jerk and saw Jon Kepowski standing in front of him, his skull-face glaring. “Bloody hell, Jon – you scared the life out of me.”
“That package, the one I asked you to take down to The Beach. It was important, and now it's gone. Burned, along with the club. You know about all that, don't you?”
“Yeah. It was on the news.”
“And Sullivan? He mentioned it?”
“I – I don't remember. Jon, I hardly remember anything about what you asked me to do. Things are so confused and – and what the hell are you doing here?”
“I want you to go to see Brian Randall. Tell him about the package. He'll tell you what to do.” Jon shot a quick look over to his right, towards the counter, then turned again to Jed. “Soon. Make it soon.”
Jed saw Mat squeezing through the press of people. He held a tray with two coffees and a plate of iced-buns in his hands. Jed couldn't help but smile, turned to say something to Jon and stopped, catching his breath.
Jon Kepowski had disappeared.
“What's up, you look as though you've seen a ghost.” Mat settled himself down and pushed the steaming hot cup of coffee towards his brother.
Jed, lost for words, craned his neck to look above the heads of the people the cafe's entrance. But Kepowski wasn't anywhere. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. “I think I'm going mad.”
“Yeah, well…” Mat took a sip of coffee. “Help yourself to a bun.”
But Jed didn't feel much like eating. Instead, he drank from his cup. Soon he couldn't remember why he felt so troubled.
Mat was talking, very softly, forcing Jed to lean forward, straining to hear. He pressed his hand over his brother's arm. “I can't hear what you're saying, Mat.”
Mat sighed and lifted his voice above the constant drone of the customers. “Sorry. I was just rambling. Jed, this photo,” he picked it up, looking at it one more time, as if reminding himself of the features. “When Mum left my dad all those years ago, she went up to the Lake district. Remember I told you?”
“Yeah. She had family up there, you said.”
“Nan brought me up. I didn't know much about it then, of course. How could I…Anyway, the years slipped by, as they do. I went to school, did all the usual stuff. Hardly ever saw my dad. He'd gone away too. Couldn't face up to the shame I suppose. A proud man, he couldn't stand the thought that people would be talking about him.” He shrugged, finished off his coffee and sat back. “I remember he came back a different person. I'd be about ten, I think. He'd met someone else and they got married.”
“Married? Oh my God, did Mum know?”
“I don't know if she did, or if she didn't. Even if she had found out, I doubt she would have cared. The thing is, they'd married, my dad and this woman called Diane. Diane Davey.”
Jed's mouth hung open. “Davey?”
“When they married, Dad had already changed his name. It seems that he wanted a completely new beginning. I don't know whether he did it officially or what, but he'd married this girl using the name Davey. And…” He sucked in his cheeks and stared at Jed for a long time, inviting him to speak.
Jed could barely force the words out. “And they had a child…a son…”
Mat nodded, a single, ominous inclination of the head. “Peter.”
Hang 'em High was playing at the ABC cinema. Jed stared at the hoarding as he came out of the telephone box. He'd phoned his dad to let him know where he was. Dad appreciated the call, which, he said, stopped him from worrying. So much had happened, and now this…
“Hang 'em High?” Mat shook his head. “I wonder if we should do that.”
“What? Hanging? Do you think it would have stopped whoever has murdered them all?”
“I don't know. Do you?”
Jed shook his head. “Whoever it is, they are on a mission, Mat. Someone, for whatever reason, is on a mission to systematically wipe out our family.”
Mat pulled himself up sharply, the frown cutting deep into his skin. “That's a bit melodramatic, isn't it? Wiping out our family?”
“No, it's not melodramatic – it's what I think is happening.”
“And how do Ellen Willis and Craig Watson fit into all of this? They're not part of our family, Jed.”
“Connected though, aren't they? I knew Watson from school, and Nurse Willis…she had been in the hospital whilst I was recovering. And she just happened to be Peter Davey's girlfriend.”
Mat shook his head, blowing out his cheeks. “No, Jed. They're not connected. It's just a ghastly coincidence. I don't think Craig Watson's death has anything to do with Ellen Willis, or Peter. Those two perhaps, but not Watson. That's separate.”
“You think? But they were killed in exactly the same way, Mat.” He could see the thought processes whirring through Mat's brain, and as his mind worked through all the permutations, his brother's features changed. A tiny flicker ran through his eyes. The beginning of a suspicion that perhaps Jed could be right.
Jed, on the other hand, needed no such persuasion. He wa
s convinced. All he had to do was prove it.
22
Phillips called Jed into his office, to talk to him about his study-leave. “Starts on Monday, Meres. When is your first exam?”
“A couple of weeks, sir. History, I think.”
“You think? You need to check your time-table. How did the art go?”
“Not bad, I thi—” He grinned at Phillips' scowl. “Sorry – I mean it went well, sir.”
“Yes, so your teacher says…Grade One, CSE, she says. Definitely. That's a GCE pass, Meres. Just like you said.”
“Yes sir,” returned Jed, without a hint of arrogance, “Just like I said.”
“Well,” Phillips stood up, stretching out his hand. Jed stared down at it in horror, then took it and shook it. “I wish you well, Meres, I really do. A-levels, they won't be as easy, but at least you're heading in the right direction. You've been through a lot; you deserve every good fortune.”
Stunned into silence, all Jed could do by way of a response was to force a self-conscious smile. He stepped outside and took a huge sigh of relief, happy to be free of Phillips and his cringingly awkward words of congratulation.
She stood in the doorway and Jed, struck by how incredibly good looking she was, took a moment to gather his thoughts. She wore a white towelling robe, pulled tight at the waist, tussled hair hanging down to her shoulders. She looked as if she had just got out of bed, but that couldn't be – it was gone five o'clock in the afternoon. She yawned. Music was playing from somewhere within. T-Rex
Jed smiled. “Brian? Is he in?”
Without a word, she moved aside to let Jed through. He squeezed past, his chest pressing against the swell of her breasts beneath the robe. She looked at him without comment, eyes neutral, and a tiny thrill ran through his stomach. She moved slightly, readjusting the robe. A flash of bronzed flesh, the firmness of her breasts impossible to ignore. He stared for a second too long, then looked away, heat rising to his face, and rapidly moved down the hall. He walked into the living room from where the music played.
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