A Little Death

by A. J. Cross

  She glanced towards the table. She knew why Maisie got out the photographs. She was curious about her extended family, such as it was. People she’d rarely seen or never met, including Kate’s mother who’d died a short time before Maisie was born. Hanson knew there was a reason beyond curiosity for Maisie’s search.

  She’s looking for something. She doesn’t know it, but that’s what she’s doing. She wants to know about the people she came from. The people who made her.

  This meant that Hanson herself would have to become involved with at least one of them, despite the existing situation suiting her just fine. She thought of the questions about genetics that Maisie had begun asking over recent months. Celia’s right. I must tell her.

  She stared out of the window again. Inside this house there was a photograph. One which Maisie had never seen. Only Hanson knew its whereabouts. She visualised the four people in it, standing in their somewhat outdated clothes at the side of a dusty road in bright sun: her mother and the man Hanson had believed was her father either side of a plump, fair-haired woman she didn’t recognise. A small distance to one side of them stood another man, his hand shading his eyes, his thick, dark red hair ruffled by a breeze as he gazed at their photographer.

  ‘Wha’?’

  She started at Maisie’s voice. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’

  ‘Nothing. You’re looking at me funny.’

  Hanson abandoned the potatoes and dried her hands. ‘Come on.’

  Taking a last, quick spoonful of ice cream, Maisie jumped up. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Out. For dinner.’

  ‘Mum, have I ever told you you’re seriously weird sometimes?’

  ‘Yes, you have. Too weird to be seen with at Pizza Express?’

  Maisie darted from the kitchen. ‘Five minutes. I want to wear my new maxi-dress that Daddy bought me.’

  Hanson watched her go, recalling the first time she herself had seen the photograph. She’d been twenty-three or thereabouts, Maisie on the floor in her car seat, plump fists waving as Hanson went through her mother’s personal effects at the family home. She’d picked up the photograph, dropping whatever else she was holding. She still remembered the rush of recognition as she’d stared at the man with the sun in his eyes. It was there in the colour of his hair, the detail of his face. It had made sudden, blinding sense. It had felt like a homecoming. Maisie deserved that same resolution. Hanson knew she had to get it right when she started the process which would give it to her.

  SIXTEEN

  A casual observer of the dark haired young woman wandering through the milling crowds at the Bewdley Country Fair might not have guessed that she was distracted or unhappy. But there was one person within the throng who knew. Because there was nothing casual about his observations of her. Over the last couple of hours he’d picked up on her low mood and a lot else besides. She’d come here alone. He’d seen her arrive in the car park, watched her get out of her car, distracted, not noticing that the seatbelt was dangling, the car not properly secured. He’d changed his plans to leave. She was too full of promise.

  He remained where he was, watching her as he dealt with the voice inside his head. He was going into alien territory again. He could put a stop to it, right here, right now. Easy to think. Hard to do. It had always been a private thing but now he didn’t have that luxury. His eyes were fixed on her as she moved past the bright, noisy stalls and slowly out of sight among the throng. Quickening his pace he caught up, then overtook her.

  He arrived at her car, unconcerned that the press of people might notice anything. They were tired, searching for their vehicles, many of them with fractious children in tow. He lifted the bonnet. A few minutes later he dropped it back into place, wiping the metal he’d touched with a tissue, doing a swift calculation. From a conversation he’d overheard her have with an older couple and another young woman, he’d learned which area of Birmingham she was from and that she was intending to leave for home soon. He estimated that she’d get about halfway into her journey before the car began giving her trouble. He had a plan for that eventuality. He knew of an ideal place to wait for a person needing to pull off the road. And if she didn’t stop there it didn’t matter. He had all night. He’d follow her into the darkness until she did. Eyes scanning, he walked casually away from the car.

  Within five minutes he had her in his sights again, talking to the same people. He wandered in their direction, close enough to listen. Her parents and her sister. Right now, the mother was looking concerned, the father frustrated as they exchanged perfunctory hugs. He knew now that her name was Amy and that the fair had been a regular attraction for her and her family for the last four years. But not this year. Amy was upset. She’d argued with somebody called Eddie who had refused to come to the fair with her so she’d come alone. Now she was on the move again.

  He maintained his distance behind her then pulled ahead to take a brief glance at her. She was looking hot and tired, a little defeated. He felt sad for her. His eyes swept the milling crowd bent on carefree enjoyment, eating hotdogs, drinking colas and beer. He glanced back to her again. She was heading into the car park. He followed then passed her and strode on ahead.

  For Amy Bennett this whole day had been a terrible mistake. She shouldn’t have come. Without Eddie the whole thing had fallen flat. The argument they’d had had been her fault. Eddie had made a harmless comment about her moods and she’d rounded on him. Even worse, her mother had kept asking about him today, until her father told her to stop. Her boyfriend-less sister had listened to it all, looking like the cat that’d got the cream.

  Amy felt hot and sluggish and the smell of the hotdogs wafting towards her made her want to heave. She reached her car. Dusk wasn’t too far off. Opening all the doors she waited for the hot air to roll out of it then sat sideways in the driver’s seat, her feet on the grass. They felt like hot coals. She thought of slipping off her shoes then decided against it. The drive home was daunting but when she got there she’d tell Eddie she was sorry for how she was acting. In fact, she’d tell him right now.

  She reached inside her bag for her phone, berating herself for her quick temper. She swiped the little screen, getting a ‘Low Battery’ signal. She tried to text him. It failed. On the verge of tears she threw it across the car. It landed with a sharp thump and disappeared. Turning awkwardly, she pushed the key into the ignition. The engine puttered a little, appeared to gather itself, puttered some more and died. She stared at the dashboard in disbelief.

  ‘No, please. Don’t do this. Come on.’

  She tried again. It puttered then died. She pressed both hands to her mouth as hot tears spilled down her face.

  ‘Can I help?’

  Without looking up for the source of the voice, she brushed the tears away, shook her head. ‘No. I’m fine.’

  She tried again. The engine started. She listened to the puttering as she pushed the accelerator, heard the brief lull followed by the engine roaring into life. She closed her eyes.

  ‘Thank you, thank you.’

  Heaving herself from the car to close the doors, she glanced around. Several other cars were leaving. She got back into the driver’s seat, looped her seat belt over one arm, reversed out of the line of parked cars and headed for the exit.

  It was getting dark as she joined the Kidderminster Road, heading for Birmingham, the black ribbon of road illuminated by her headlights. The car rolled steadily onwards, its engine humming. She would have completely lost it earlier if she’d had to abandon the car and get her father to drive her home. Taking a couple of deep breaths, breathing out steadily through her mouth, she pressed her back against the seat, her eyes on the road ahead. In an hour, maybe less, she’d be home. They needed to talk, she and Eddie.

  Sudden, full headlights flooded her car from behind, reflecting off her rear-view mirror, dazzling her. She narrowed her eyes, adjusted the mirror, trying to make out the vehicle.

  ‘Idiot,’ she murmured. ‘Just pass.
’

  She checked her speed and decreased the pressure on the accelerator. The vehicle stayed with her. She increased her speed. It did the same. They continued on into the darkness and she felt a first, small flicker of unease. The road was empty. There was loads of room. Why didn’t it overtake? She took more deep breaths, checked her speed and focused on the unlit road ahead. The vehicle stayed close behind her, matching her speed. She gave a quick glance in her wing mirror. Was it going to stay on her tail all the way to …?

  The sudden engine roar sent her heart pounding against her chest wall. Lights veered and the vehicle swung out from behind her, zoomed past and into the darkness. She watched its tail lights disappear. Weak with relief but still rattled, she shouted after it.

  ‘Thank you, you bastard!’

  Remembering her resolve to stay calm, knowing that her temper was the reason she was alone right now, she reduced her grip on the steering wheel, took more deep breaths, aware now of pressure in her abdomen. She continued on for a few minutes, the pressure growing steadily more demanding. She still had miles to go. Glancing at the scene beyond her window she saw one or two houses rushing past in the darkness.

  The sound of a couple of subtle hiccups from the engine made her catch her breath. She gripped the steering wheel, listened. There it was again! A lump came into her throat. She stared at both sides of the road. There was nowhere safe to pull over. No houses. No lanes off.

  Panicked now, ears attuned, picking up more hiccups, she saw a sign. It told her exactly where she was. She was approaching the garden centre she and Eddie had visited several times recently to buy plants, followed by tea and cake. She’d pull in there. The abdominal pressure was insistent now. Once she had the car off the road and she’d visited the outside restroom she’d consider what to do.

  Reducing her speed she scanned the scene flashing past, not wanting to miss the turn-off. She saw it just ahead on the right. Slowing, signalling despite there being no other cars, she turned into the wide entrance, tyres crunching gravel, engine stuttering as she pulled into the deserted parking area.

  The garden centre itself was in darkness, the only illumination coming from a soft drinks machine against its pale blue wooden wall. She brought the car to a halt then took a few shaky breaths. Pushing open her door, she stopped. There was another vehicle here, parked in heavy shadow beneath trees on the opposite side of the wide gravelled area. She couldn’t make out anyone inside it. Maybe someone else had had car trouble and left it there?

  She pushed her door further open, eyes scanning the side of the garden centre’s wooden structure. She was desperate now for that restroom. If she turned off her ignition, her car might recover in a few minutes from whatever problem it had and she’d be on her way. She frowned. But it might not start again. She sat; hand on the keys, irresolute.

  As she listened to the sound of the still-running engine the light from the drinks machine was momentarily blocked. She raised her head.

  ‘Excuse me; do you have change for the machine?’

  At the sound of his voice her heart leapt into her throat. He was standing at her open door. He’d come from nowhere. He was pointing at the vending machine.

  ‘No, I haven’t—’

  With a single, smooth movement he seized hold of her by the front of her cotton top and started pulling her out of her car. Incapable of making a sound, she grabbed at the handbrake then the steering wheel, anything to keep herself inside the car. She wasn’t quick enough. His hands were tight on her upper arms now. Shocked, disoriented, she felt one of his hands grip the back of her neck. Her leg jerked and the engine roared. Her breath rasping her throat, she kicked and felt one of her shoes make contact with him then fall from her foot. The ignition was turned off, the engine died and the driver’s seat slid away from her. Panic claimed her brain.

  He had her out of the car now, her back turned to him, his arm across her chest, his hand clamped tight over her mouth, his other arm tight around her abdomen. They stood together in the dark and the quiet; the only sounds their laboured breathing and the clamour of fear inside her head. She squeezed her eyes shut on a surge of dizziness. He spoke.

  ‘Do exactly as I tell you and everything will be fine. You shouldn’t be alone out here. You need somebody like me to keep you safe.’

  She stood there, incapable of moving. He shook her.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  Feeling his warm breath against her ear, she nodded, opened her eyes to gaze over his hand, seeing and hearing nothing that made sense, pulling air into her chest, incapable of constructive thought. She felt his breath against her ear again.

  ‘I’m going to turn you round to face me.’ She started to cry. He shook her again.

  ‘Stop it. Calm down and everything will be fine.’ Another shake. ‘Yes?’

  She nodded and he slowly released her mouth. She felt his hands grip her shoulders. She had the sensation of being turned. A wave of dizziness hit. She closed her eyes and stood numb, her head bowed, feeling the weight of him against her, his warm hands at her neck. She tensed as one of them slid slowly upwards then down – and up again. Her eyes widened, hysteria bubbling in her throat. He was touching her neck like Eddie sometimes did when they … Beyond terrified, she felt wet warmth gush and flow between her legs.

  He was talking. She heard the words but couldn’t make sense of any of them.

  ‘Do you feel that on your neck? That’s all it is. But you have to look at me. Open your eyes. Open them!’

  She turned her face away. He gripped it hard, pulled it back to him. ‘I said open them. Watch me. Watch. I want to see your eyes blaze.’

  His hand continued to move. She was lightheaded now. Drifting. Gasping for air, she scrabbled for his hand. He punched her in the side of the head, leaving her queasy and more disoriented.

  ‘You’re ruining it.’

  He lessened his grip on her body, but his hand, his fingers remained on her neck. ‘Keep your eyes on mine, mother.’

  The word jolted her to the direness of her situation. She was in the worst trouble of her whole life. She thought of Eddie and she thought of Pickle. They were hers and she loved them. She would not give them up. All of the frustrations and upset of the day melded into cold fury. She made herself relax, felt him do the same. The pressure on her neck was there again, his upper body pressed against hers. She felt light-headed now. This was it. Her last chance. She moved her lower body, slowly raised one leg and drove her knee upwards as hard as she could into what she hoped was his groin.

  He wasn’t expecting it. His hands flew from her. He doubled, sank to the gravel, harsh noises coming from deep inside his throat.

  Scrabbling away from him she pushed herself inside the car, the steering wheel striking her belly. Gasping, nauseated, she turned the key. Nothing. She burst into hot, desperate tears.

  ‘Start!’ she screamed.

  He was on his feet. He was coming for her. She had no choice. She felt her anger soar. She had to fight.

  ‘You sick bastard! You keep away from me, you mad bastard!’ she screamed.

  Sobbing, she turned the ignition again, pushing her foot down, seeing only his face, big as the moon, twisted and raging as he closed in, one hand raised towards her. Hysterical now, she stamped on the accelerator. The engine roared into life. Scrabbling at her door as he reached for it, she heaved it shut. Fighting dizziness, she hit the lock, gasping at the searing pain in her abdomen and side, hearing her own words over and over, ‘Thank-God-thank-God-thank—’

  He was at the window, his face contorted. ‘You’ll never know. We could have shared it, you stupid, stupid—’

  Throwing the car into reverse she swung it away from him towards the exit and onto the road, his howling voice following her.

  SEVENTEEN

  The woman who opened the door of the small, modern, semi-detached looked to be in her late thirties. She was holding a plump infant on one hip. Another child peered from the folds of her long skir
t.

  ‘Mrs Vickers?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Is your husband in?’

  Watts knew he wasn’t. He’d phoned the college earlier that morning and learned that Vickers was there until two o’clock today, after which he would be working from home. He’d hung up, made a swift calculation of travel time between the college and the Vickers’ address. It would take him about thirty minutes to reach home. Which was why they were here now.

  She shook her head, her face bemused as she studied the identification he was holding out to her. ‘I’m sorry, he’s at work but I’m expecting him home soon.’ The infant on her hip grizzled.

  She looked suddenly worried. ‘There isn’t a problem, is there?’

  ‘No, no,’ soothed Watts, with a nod at Corrigan. ‘My colleague and I just wanted to have a quick chat with him about an incident that happened near the college recently. Did he mention it at all?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She gave the infant gentle little bounces. ‘Can I get him to ring you?’

  ‘How would you feel about us waiting for him?’ He pointed to Corrigan’s Volvo parked at the kerb. ‘We can wait out here.’

  Having picked up its sibling’s low grizzle, the child hanging on her skirt was starting its own version. She shook her head and stepped back from the door.

  ‘No, come in. Laurie won’t be long. I’m late feeding these two so I have to get on.’

  They walked inside the house, most of what was visible of its ground floor taken up by a sitting room, filled with the paraphernalia of small children. Watts gave the elder child a grin. It hid its face.

  He and Corrigan looked casually around the large room as she took the children into the adjoining kitchen, leaving the door open. The expanse of floor was laminated. No carpet. No rug. Watts went to the window and peered out at the rear garden. Picking up encouraging words from Mrs Vickers to the children, he went to the doorway, saw her pushing something mashed into their mouths.