by SJI Holliday
Gray had been barely sixteen. Already over six feet tall, shoulders as broad as those of the man he would become. They’d met in the Station Inn. She was sitting on a bar stool, all short skirt and long legs and dirty laughter echoing out from behind shining lip-glossed lips. She was holding a straight glass full of clear, fizzing liquid. Ice and lemon chinking as her hand shook – her whole body seemed to vibrate with laughter. The man she was talking to was old – too old – but, Gray knew, with very deep pockets.
How could he compete with that?
He’d seen her before, of course. Hundreds of times. She’d left school now, got a job in Cairn’s the bakers on the Back Street. He remembered her from school: always in a crowd, always laughing, swearing, smoking with the cool kids and hanging out in the park on Friday nights.
Gray had been too shy to approach her. What would a blossoming seventeen-year-old want with a scrawny kid like him? It was different now. She was what, twenty? Maybe twenty-one. Five years apart seemed like nothing now.
Now that he’d grown up.
He’d walked up to the bar with a confidence he hadn’t felt. Ordered a pint of lager, laid a fiver on the bar – right in the gap between her and the old man, who was trying his best to get a hand on her bare knee.
The man had taken a step back. ‘Oi, watch yourself there, son …’
Miranda had giggled. ‘Oh, leave him alone, Jim. The laddie’s just wanting a drink.’
‘A drink of you, mair like.’
They hadn’t been together then, but Jim still acted like she was one of his possessions, one of his shiny trinkets to be kept safe in a locked velvet box.
She laughed again, and the sound reminded him of small tinkling bells.
He took his pint and his change, sat on one of the padded bench seats facing the bar. His pint sat in front of him, untouched. Trickles of condensation running down the sides.
He watched her. Ignored the voices around him. The other punters jostling for space around the bar, laughing, backslapping. The heels of heavy pint tumblers thudding off the bar. The clanging bells on the bandit, coins spattering into the tray below.
Eventually, she joined him, leaving Jim at the bar with his cronies.
She stared into his eyes, and he felt his insides fluttering like sheets drying in the wind. ‘Aren’t you going to drink that? It’ll be warm by now …’
He kept his eyes locked on hers as he lifted the pint glass, knocking the contents back in one. The warm, bitter liquid hitting the back of his throat. Flowing deep inside him, pooling in his stomach. Hitting his veins. Firing inside his head. Fuzzy, soft. Ready. What is she playing at?
She giggled again. Those tinkling bells.
In the background, the jukebox was playing ‘The Bitterest Pill’ by The Jam. Weller’s voice gruff and sensual. Full of regret and longing. Someone won the jackpot and the bandit emptied its contents with a never-ending clatter of metal.
‘Do you fancy coming back to mine?’ Gray said, eventually.
She leant down to pick up her handbag. Her eyes never left his. ‘You’ve got the most beautiful eyes,’ she said. ‘That blue’s so deep and dark I feel like I could swim in it …’
He chuckled. ‘That’s one hell of a line.’
They stood up together, eyes still locked. A moment in time.
He took her hand, and she let him. As it cupped round his, it felt small and delicate, like he was carrying a tiny bird.
‘Won’t your parents mind?’
‘They’re away. They won’t be back tonight. Don’t worry about it.’ He tried to sound confident, but he could hear the quivering in his own voice. The longing.
‘How old are you, anyway?’ she said.
Gray said nothing at first. They walked slowly. Him savouring the feel of her hand in his. Listening to the gentle clip-clop of her heels on the pavement.
‘Old enough,’ he said, as they reached the front door of the cream-fronted terraced cottage. He dropped her hand, fumbling with the keys in his pocket.
She ducked under his arm as his quaking hand fiddled with the lock, spun round until she was facing him, pressed herself up against his chest. Her head only came up to his shoulders, and she tipped her head back, exposing the soft pale skin of her neck, offering up lips plumped with blood.
He lifted her in his arms, carried her inside. Kicked the door closed behind him. The house was silent but for the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway and their breaths, mingling together in short, desperate puffs.
She pulled away. ‘Hang on a sec.’ She turned towards the clock, turned back to him with a frown. ‘I haven’t got long … Jim’ll be expecting me back before last orders. He likes to walk me home, he—’
‘I’m sorry, Miranda,’ he said. It took all of his strength to push her away. He wanted her so badly. But he knew she would never stay. What would she want with a kid like him? What was he supposed to offer her?
She looked confused, then angry. ‘You bloody tease. What am I meant to do now, eh?’
She wrapped her coat around herself, calling him more names under her breath. Banging the door hard as she left.
Gray always wondered if she’d started the paternity rumour herself, to try to get his attention. She’d come back to him several times over the years, fuelling the fire, then letting it go cold. But Gray knew she’d never leave Jim.
And, sadly, he knew that Jim was never going to let anyone have her but him.
One day he’d tell Jo how much he’d loved her mum, and how he’d had to let her be.
One day he’d tell her about the reports of the accident, where neither of them had been wearing a seatbelt, and Jim had wedged a triangle of wood under the brake pedal so that he couldn’t change his mind.
But not today.
64
I don’t know how long I’d been sitting there, hunched up on the uncomfortable hard bed in the cell. The policewoman – Lorna – had tried to make me drink water, drink tea, eat a fucking ham sandwich. And she just kept talking … talking … yack yack yack.
I couldn’t move. I felt like my muscles had fused into my bones. My flesh was stiff and inflexible, like the horrible plastic piss-cover on the too-thin mattress I was sitting on.
She’d told me about Scott – and the balaclava belonging to Jake. I had no idea what was going on there. Had Jake panicked? Had he really done that to Laura? I tried, but I couldn’t make myself believe it.
I sat there and watched Davie Gray torturing himself with the memories of my mother. The silly cow. I knew the rumours about him being my dad were a load of rubbish, but Polly and Claire’s goading that day had pushed a button. If only I’d kept my temper in check. Hadn’t made Claire go over the pipe that she was so scared of. If only, if only, if only.
*
Gray pushed the memories to the back of his mind. He turned to face Jo once again. This time, he wasn’t letting her away with saying nothing.
‘What happened, Jo? You need to tell me. The CID lads will be back soon, and they’ll want answers. You’ve a solicitor sitting outside, waiting to help you … will you talk to us? Please?’ He leant over and placed a hand on Jo’s bare foot. It was freezing.
‘OK,’ she said, ‘I’ll talk to you.’ She uncurled herself and slid off the bed.
As he walked her through to the interview room, he heard a commotion in the reception. Raised voices. Something making a clatter. Chairs being scraped across the floor.
‘Jo? Can you hear me? It’s me, Claire … I’m here. I need to talk to you …’
‘Please, Claire, you can’t see her at the moment, she’s—’ Lorna’s voice cut off by more yelling from Claire. The clattering, apparently her wheelchair, as she tried to manoeuvre too fast along the narrow corridor. Rob’s voice trying to calm her down. Lorna’s. Craig’s. Christ, they were all in there.
Where the hell was Beattie? He couldn’t still be at the hospital.
He shoved Jo gently into the interview room and closed
the door. The lock clicked into place; it only opened from the outside.
He marched down the corridor and into the fray.
*
When I heard the door snick shut I knew it was locked, and I panicked. I started rattling the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. Funny how I’d been in that cell for hours and hadn’t felt scared at all, yet in this small carpeted room with its cheap table and chairs, I felt trapped. Claustrophobic.
I stopped rattling the door. Stepped back, trying to get my breathing to return to normal. Let my heart rate slow back down. I could hear the raised voices coming from the front of the station.
I was still reeling about Jake … being Maloney’s foster brother, being the other boy in the woods … There was so much I needed to hear from him. Why? Why the hunting? Why the girls at the Track?
All I knew for sure was that Jake had been there the whole time.
Manipulating me. Manipulating Claire.
*
‘Claire, you need to calm down.’ Gray took the handles of her chair and pulled her back into the centre of the room. She was ranting, screaming.
‘I need to talk to her,’ she shouted, directing her voice down the corridor towards Jo, locked in the interview room. ‘Jo, please … tell me you didn’t hurt him?’
‘Claire, that’s enough.’ Craig spun her round to face him. ‘You need to calm down, you’re going to make yourself sick … Claire? Claire?’
Gray pushed Claire out of the way and crouched down until they were at eye level. Claire’s face had gone slack, her eyes lolling back into her head. He turned back to Craig, a shocked Rob standing by his side. Lorna was behind the counter, her face drained of colour. ‘Call a bloody ambulance,’ Gray shouted at her. ‘Now!’
At that, the front door swung open and PC Beattie burst into the station, panting with the exertion. ‘Sarge, it’s Jake. He’s awake … and he’s talking.’
65
The air was heavy with the echoes of muffled voices, the rattling metal of squeaky-wheeled trolleys. That familiar smell of antiseptic and over-boiled veg.
I stared at Jake in the bed, hooked up to the beeping monitors, and I remembered Claire. Small and scared, oblivious to the fact that the boy who had come to visit had been partly responsible for her being there.
He must’ve sensed me, because his eyes opened as I approached the bed.
‘Hello,’ he croaked.
‘Hi … How do you feel?’
‘Sore. You?’
‘Sad.’
He closed his eyes again.
‘Do you want me to go?’ I said.
‘Don’t be stupid. It’s just the lights in here. Too bright.’ He raised a hand, and I took it and squeezed it and he opened his eyes again briefly as he said, ‘Ouch.’
‘We can’t do this any more, Jake,’ I said. I sat down on the chair next to his bed. ‘It’s not fair on Claire.’
‘I always thought she knew, Jo. I didn’t think we’d hidden it very well … the whole enemies thing …’
I nodded. ‘She’s no idea. I’m sure of it. She’s too trusting. She’d never believe we’d do that to her. Or maybe she’s in denial – just like with everything else. She must remember something about what happened in the woods that day.’
‘Doesn’t matter now anyway,’ he said. ‘Once the police question me and I have to tell them about the stupid fucking shit that I’ve been up to, I doubt she’ll still want me anyway.’
‘Oh, so I get to keep you, do I? The booby prize …’
He laughed quietly. ‘That’s not what I meant. Anyway, it’s time for a fresh start, I think. Sort myself out. They want me to speak to a shrink in here, find out how messed up I am … Any tips?’
I picked up his hand again and nipped the flesh. ‘Don’t joke. They’ll help you. In fact, I think it’s about time I spoke to one myself. It’s been too long. I don’t think my meds are working any more. I haven’t been myself lately. What Scott did … it threw me. I should never have got involved with the whole Maloney thing …’
‘Are you being charged?’
I frowned. ‘I expect so, although your evidence that it was self-defence will help. I killed him, though. I have to live with that forever, no matter how much of a bastard he was. Not to mention a murderer himself. Anyway, they’re keeping a close eye on me. Gray’s managed to get me on house arrest at his until I go to court on Monday. He was supposed to be going out for a curry tonight – first time in months, apparently. He’s well pissed off that he’s got to babysit me.’
‘I bet he’s delighted, Jo. He’s always had a soft spot for you …’ He paused, waiting for me to respond. When I didn’t, he continued: ‘Listen, I’m pretty tired now. Do you mind if I go to sleep?’
‘Course not, don’t be daft.’ I leant down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Oh, er … Claire says she’s coming in to see you tomorrow. Hope that’s OK?’
‘Jesus … Of course it is. I really didn’t think she’d want anything to do with me after all this.’
‘Must be that charm, eh. What’s happening about you and the police, by the way? Are they charging you with assault?’
Jake opened his eyes wide, tried to shake his head, despite the pain. ‘I didn’t assault anyone, Jo. I told you that. I told them that too, although I don’t think they believed me …’ He paused. A dark shadow seemed to distort his features, just for a moment. Then it was gone. ‘Yes, I admit – I frightened those two girls up at the Track,’ he continued. ‘I got a kick out of it – their scared faces … It was like when I used to shoot rabbits and watch their startled eyes … When Gareth came back, something snapped inside me. I can’t explain it. We used to go hunting together, when we were kids … but he was, I don’t know. He was weird, Jo. He scared me—’
A thought struck me then. Christ, I’d been so stupid. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? The other night in the woods. Lurking there. Trying to freak me out. You scared me, Jake. I thought it was Maloney. What was all that about, eh?’
Jake put his hands to his temples, squeezed as if he was trying to crush his own skull. ‘I just wanted to know what it was like to be him. I thought … I thought when he came back, he’d come to find me. I thought I was still his brother.’ He started to cry then, an angry sob. ‘I’m just so fucking tired, Jo.’
I leant in and took his hand. ‘It’s OK, Jake. It’s going to be OK. Listen, I’ve got to go. Feel better soon … I’ll come and visit again. When I can.’
‘Jo, wait …’
I turned back. ‘What is it, Jake? I have to go …’
‘Don’t you want to know about the masks? The sheep masks? Don’t you want to understand?’
I shook my head sadly. ‘It doesn’t matter now, Jake. It’s over.’
He fell back into the pillows and I left him there, staring at the ceiling.
He was the black sheep. Just like me.
Gray was waiting for me outside, an expectant look on his face.
‘Well?’ he said.
I shook my head. ‘He didn’t hurt Laura, Davie. I know he didn’t. He’s a bit of a prick sometimes, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly …’
Gray frowned. ‘Well, if it wasn’t him, Jo, then who the hell was it? There’s no one else in the frame. He planted that balaclava on Scott … There’ll be forensics linking him to those shoe prints at the Track, I know it. Who’s he trying to protect? Anyway, it’s out of my hands now. CID are all over it. They’re looking into Jake … as well as you. And Maloney, of course. You know they’ll be searching Black Wood. Digging the place up …’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t care about any of that. I just don’t want Jake getting the blame for attacking Laura. He’s damaged, Davie, but he’s never hurt me. He’s never hurt Claire. Well, not physically anyway. Jesus, me and her have got a lot of talking to do.’
Gray said nothing and I continued babbling. ‘Will I go to prison, Davie? For what I did to Maloney? He would’ve killed me, you know … after he’d—’
He cu
t me off. ‘I know, Jo. You don’t have to tell me again. Jake’s backed up your story too. They’ll be able to tell that it was Maloney who fired the gun. What you did to him … well, it was bad, Jo. Really bad. But you’ve got a good solicitor there. We’ll do everything we can. In the meantime, though, you’re staying with me until your hearing on Monday. I’m hoping you’ll get bail, but you know I can’t guarantee anything.’
I nodded. ‘I appreciate you looking out for me, Davie. I know my mum would’ve wanted it.’
Gray blinked, and I was sure I saw a tear at the corner of his eye.
‘You’re spot on about that, Jo. There’s so much I need to tell you about your mum. She wasn’t bad. You know that, don’t you? Your dad had a hold on her from the minute they met. Anyway, like I said … not now. Right now, we’re going back to mine. Someone needs to look after you …’
I opened my mouth to protest and he raised a hand to silence me.
‘It’s non-negotiable, Jo.’
He turned to leave, and I glanced back at Jake before following him out.
As he walked across the potholed tarmac towards the car, I took my phone out of my pocket. Scrolled through my contacts until I found the one I wanted. Hit dial. As I waited for it to connect, I ran a finger across my eyebrow. Felt the tiny bristles of hair that were already pushing their way through the skin.
‘Jo? Where are you? Are you OK? Is Jake OK? Did—’
Her voice sounded strained. I could tell she’d had one of her episodes again. She was going to have to see someone about those. I’d make her.
‘Get Rob to give you and Craig a lift, Claire. Come round to Davie’s. We need to talk. A lot.’ I hung up.
I caught Gray’s eye as he climbed into his car. He gave me a small, sad smile.
There were things I needed to say to him too.
66
Pete took his time walking home. He was in no rush. He wanted to savour the time on his own. He walked round the side of the house, opened the back gate and tiptoed into the garden. He tried hard not to make a sound. The lights were off, the house bathed in darkness. This meant that his dad was still out, and if he was out on one of his nights out where he drank too many whiskies, he wouldn’t be back until late. This was good for Pete, because even though his dad never came down to the shed, he was worried about having the light on tonight.