She risked moving slightly away from the hedge, wincing in pain, so that there was enough light to see the ground she was walking on. But the moon and stars were obliterated by the black clouds scudding across the sky. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but she daren’t so much as sniff. She wiped her face and nose with the back of her hand. She had no idea where she was heading. These fields in Cheshire all looked the same, and she could be taking herself off into the middle of the county and in totally the wrong direction. Away from help and safety.
Stop, Abbie. Think. With her eyes darting from side to side in fear of seeing a shadowy figure emerge from the gloom and her ears interpreting every rustle of the bushes as danger, she forced herself to focus. It would be so easy to give in. But she couldn’t. She thought about where the house was — the house she had escaped from. But she didn’t really know. She had been blindfolded when she’d arrived.
In the distance she could see streetlights. They had to be the lights from the village. But to get there, she would have to go back the way she came. She couldn’t do that. She needed to find a road; find somebody, anybody.
Out of nowhere came a memory, as if her dad were trying to speak to her. The stars. He had told her about Polaris — the North Star, and how to find it. She looked up, and willed the clouds to break for long enough to get her bearings. The moon was still covered, but she could see the Plough — and that was enough. She should be able to work it out, but her brain wouldn’t function. She twisted her body round so that she was facing roughly where she thought the North Star should be, and straightaway she knew where she was. She was to the east of the village. Thanks, Dad.
By her reckoning, that must mean that there was a road somewhere to her right. The back road, her dad called it. If she could get to that road, she could find somebody. Somebody who would help her.
Abbie knew that she needed to get across the open fields somehow. But she would immediately be visible because of her white T-shirt. Quickly she whipped it over her head, and rubbed it on the grass — even a cow pat would be helpful. She didn’t care. She pulled the dank clothing back on, and realised with alarm that she must have made a noise. She heard a rush of footsteps coming towards her across the wet grass.
‘Abbie — I know where you are. I’m coming to get you. Stay there. I won’t hurt you. I promise.’
This time the voice was much closer, so Abbie took to her heels and ran as fast as she could across the open grassland. It didn’t matter if she could be seen now. She had to get away and the road was her best chance. She didn’t wait to listen for sounds of pursuit. She was out of options. And she couldn’t scream — no one would hear her.
Her legs were aching from the nettle stings and she was panting for breath when she saw a flash of headlights. The road must only be about two hundred metres ahead. She had been right. She forced herself to keep going, covering the distance in under a minute, but it felt like hours. Then Abbie sobbed in dismay. Between her and the road there was another solid hawthorn hedge, and no way through it.
But surely there must be a gate? There was always a gate. She scanned up and down the field, and was horrified to see that the only gate was back towards the house, and she was certain that way would lead to danger.
Abbie turned round slowly, petrified that she might see the terrifying figure of her pursuer racing across the field towards her, but although it was dark she didn’t think anybody was there. Perhaps she was safe. But she knew too much, and she would never be allowed to escape. Maybe it would be safer just to sit here until morning. Her parents were bound to be worried silly by now.
And then she remembered. She wasn’t supposed to be going home at all tonight. Her parents thought she was staying with Emily. They had been so pleased for her, so they wouldn’t be missing her at all. She had been stupid, and so very naive.
Tears of self-pity and fear were streaming down her face. The road was quiet; absolutely nothing had passed since the headlights about ten minutes ago. Abbie felt a sudden glimmer of hope as she looked back along the way that she had come. So intent had she been on checking whether she was being pursued that she had failed to notice there was a small opening in the hedge. If she could get into the next field, perhaps there would be access to the road.
Checking carefully that there was no movement behind her, she crept towards the gap, expecting any minute to see a figure loom up, out of the darkness. Her heart was thumping so loudly that she was sure it could be heard fifty metres away. Keeping her head below the top of the hedge, she inched forward. Then she was through and running again. With a choked cry of relief, she saw a gate at the far end of the field. Finally she would be able to reach the road.
Breathless and desperate, she climbed over the gate and started to walk up the road, away from the village. It seemed safest, somehow. On the other side of the lane were the woods — a place she had visited with her father as a child, to see, but never to pick, the bluebells. It looked so different at night, and she glanced towards it nervously. The relief of hearing a car approaching from the village was enormous, and she turned round and jumped into the middle of the road, waving her arms for it to stop. Only at the very last minute did she recognise it. She had been in that very car only a few hours previously. Her tormentor had gone back for a car — and found her. Screaming at the top of her voice, she leapt out of the way and raced across the lane into the woods. The car screeched to a halt in a narrow lay-by, and a door slammed. She was being chased again — but she knew these woods. Scary as they were, perhaps she had an advantage.
Her energy came from somewhere, and she ran a few metres into the trees. She couldn’t be seen from the road, but she was close enough to jump out if she saw a car coming. There was no footpath, and the twigs and stones that covered the ground were cutting into the tender skin on the soles of her feet, adding to the pain of the nettle stings. What little light there had been in the open fields was gone now, and although her eyes had adjusted, the black silhouettes of trees emerged threateningly from the shadows and she was forced to slow her speed. The unlit lane didn’t help, although an occasional glimpse of moonlight breaking through the brooding clouds and reflecting on the wet tarmac helped her to keep her bearings, and stay as close as she could to the road.
She knew she was running farther and farther away from the village and civilisation, but she didn’t know what else to do. She stopped to catch her breath, and she could hear somebody crashing through the undergrowth behind her. She remembered her dad saying that fear lends you wings, and for the first time she understood what he meant. She needed those wings now. Her breath was coming in deep rasps, so loud that she was unable to hear how close behind her pursuer was.
There was a moment’s silence as she held her breath and listened for sounds of pursuit. Nothing. She knew the instant she moved she would give her position away, so she waited, trying to control her breathing and expecting to hear the eerie sound of a voice, softly calling her name. But the next sound she heard was much sweeter. It was the roar of a powerful engine.
She raced to the edge of the wood, ready to throw herself in front of whoever was coming. She leapt out into the road, but she was moments too late. The driver was going so fast, as if they themselves were being chased. She waved her arms in the air behind the retreating car, but the driver never even noticed her. A howl of anguish escaped from her throat. And now she had given away her position. She scrambled her way back up the bank to the edge of the wood, and without glancing behind her she carried on running.
Then against the dark, stormy sky she saw a strange light coming towards her. In an instant, she realised what it was — it was the headlights of a car lighting up the canopy of branches above the road. Thank God, she thought. She had to time it right. She would hide in the trees close to the road until the very last moment, but she’d be ready. She didn’t want to give away her location in case the car didn’t stop.
And then she heard it. ‘Abbie, Abbie. Stop runnin
g. I won’t hurt you. Wait for me.’
Her pursuer was right behind her.
She saw the car as it turned the bend. She waited until the last possible moment, and then she jumped.
5
Day Two: Saturday
Leo was downstairs in the kitchen making the children some breakfast when a bleary-eyed Max made an appearance. His short, dark brown hair was even spikier than normal, and black stubble covered the lower half of his face.
‘Morning, Leo. Lovely to see you — I think.’
Leo raised her eyebrows and waited to see if he would dig himself in further.
‘I mean it’s lovely that you’re here, I’m just frightened of opening my eyes properly because it hurts too much.’ Max’s cheeky grin made a fleeting appearance. ‘Ellie said you’d arrived so thanks for sorting out the kids’ breakfasts.’
‘I didn’t know if you would be sufficiently compos mentis last night to take in the fact that I was here,’ Leo said. ‘I was prepared to be greeted with shock and horror.’
‘Never.’ Max picked up a tea towel and threw it at Leo. It missed by a mile, which was way off his usual accuracy. ‘You should know better than that. I’m delighted that you’re here, and it will be one less thing for your big sister to worry about. And I hope it’s not just a flying visit. You know you can stay as long as you like. Ellie said she’d woken you and asked you to feed the monsters, for which I will be eternally grateful. She was out for the count when I got home last night, thank God! Good job she didn’t see the state I was in.’
Max walked over to his children, who were happily eating their breakfast cereal and muttering away to themselves in a language that nobody else understood, just as they had done since they were tiny. He dropped a kiss onto each of their heads and pinched a piece of toast from the pile in the centre of the table, much to the disgust of Ruby, who had apparently wanted that exact slice.
Leo was glad that Max had his back to her, and by the time he turned round she was sure that she had her surprise under control. What the hell had Ellie been up to in the middle of the night then? She had convinced herself that her sister had gone to pick up Max from his end of term party. But she was wrong.
‘I presume you didn’t drive home under the influence? Now you’re in the money you can afford a taxi, I suppose.’
She couldn’t help probing a bit further, but Max gave her a self-deprecating smile.
‘Old habits die hard, kiddo,’ he responded, between mouthfuls of toast. ‘We drew straws last week to decide who was driving, and fortunately — or unfortunately as it feels now — it wasn’t me. I’m going to have to get my act together for tonight’s dinner, though. Ellie’s going to be panicking; she thought she had all day to prepare and now she won’t be home until about three.’
‘What’s the problem? She told me she had to go out, but I was too groggy to ask about it.’
‘A crisis at work, apparently. She only does a few shifts a week now, but there was some emergency last night, and the hospital was short of qualified nurses to deal with the situation. Usual summer problems with everybody on holiday, I expect.’
‘I can look after the twins if that helps,’ Leo offered. ‘Just don’t ask me to cook.’
Max grunted.
‘If either of us interfered with the cooking we’d be in deep trouble. I understand that Little Miss Organised has ordered everything, so I need to go to the greengrocer, the fishmonger, and the butcher. And I gather you scoffed half the cheese last night, so I need to get some more of that too. We’ve already got the booze, unless you drank that as well. Everything has to be right for the swanky party. I’ll be about an hour. Can you cope?’
Leo frowned at his tone, but he didn’t notice.
‘It’ll be a pleasure,’ she said. ‘I’ll probably take the twins for a walk, if that’s okay with you. If I’d thought about it in time I would have swapped cars with Ellie so that I would have had the car seats.’
Max raised his eyebrows.
‘You think she’d have allowed you to drive her new car, do you? Dream on.’
He ripped off a piece of kitchen roll to wipe his buttery hands.
‘I’ve got to ask, Leo. How are you coping being here? Joking apart, it can’t have been easy for you but I’m so glad that you came. Ellie was worried that us moving here would create an insurmountable barrier.’
Leo avoided Max’s eyes. She had known this man since she was fourteen years old and he felt like a brother. But she had grown so used to hiding her every emotion that even he wasn’t allowed to pierce her carefully constructed defences.
‘It’s just a house, Max. Bricks and mortar.’
Max laughed, and then held his head because it obviously hurt.
‘You don’t fool me, kiddo. Brave words, though. And speaking of being brave …’
Leo groaned, because she knew what was coming.
‘… have you been brave enough yet to find yourself a man — as in “relationship” as opposed to one-night stand — or are you still judging every man on earth by one rotten example? We’re not all bad, you know. In fact, some of us are pretty impressive beasts,’ Max said, pointing with both hands at himself and beaming at Leo.
She shook her head in mock despair. Why did every man consider that a woman was failing in life if she didn’t have a husband?
‘I’m happy as I am, thanks. You ask me this every time I see you, and I always give you the same answer. And before you start trying to get your vicarious thrills from asking for details of my sporadic sex life, just butt out.’
Leo cast a worried glance towards the children, who thankfully were still busy chattering between themselves and hopefully wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about.
This was usually a cue for Max to give her his ‘happy marriage’ lecture, but fortunately this time he declined to comment, and Leo took the opportunity to change the subject.
‘Speaking of my rotten example of a man, what are we going to do about Ellie and this obsession she has with our father? It’s part of the reason I came, to tell you the truth. I tried to talk to her about it last night, but I didn’t get very far. He’s not going to suddenly appear out of thin air, Max. Why can’t she see him for what he was?’
Max looked serious for a moment.
‘Whenever I’ve asked her about him, she hardly seems to know anything. He seems like some sort of ghost figure that drifted in and out of your lives, giving as little of himself as possible.’
‘That’s pretty accurate,’ Leo answered, nodding her head. ‘He used to come and go apparently on a whim. Ellie’s mother appeared to hate him, but he was impervious to it all. Answerable to nobody. But when he was here, Ellie tried so hard to please him. She would run up and hug him as he walked through the door. He’d ruffle her hair and say something like ‘Goodness, you’ve grown’ or ‘You’re looking very pretty today’. That was it. He handed out compliments as a reward for devotion, and let’s face it, Ellie was thirsty for some love and affection. Of her parents he was undoubtedly the lesser of two evils — but he was largely indifferent. It’s not surprising I’ve no time for men, is it?’
Max had tried many times to convince Leo that her father was the exception, rather than the rule, but this time he merely gave her a look which she interpreted as ‘you’re hopeless’ and walked over to the coffee machine, lifting a cup in Leo’s direction.
‘Want one? This fancy machine makes the best — and most expensive — cup of coffee in the world. Every home should have one, don’t you think?’
He pressed a button. Leo heard the beans grinding and the room filled with the delicious smell of fresh coffee as a dark brown flow slowly filled the small espresso cup.
‘Does it do cappuccino too?’ Leo asked.
‘It does, but that requires a small amount of human intervention. Grab me a bottle of milk will you, and I will reveal more of the mysteries of this marvellous and essential piece of kitchen equipment.’
Leo ha
d never considered Max to be strong on sarcasm, but maybe it was the hangover talking. Or maybe she had been wrong about the house. Maybe its malignancy couldn’t be obliterated by a few coats of paint.
6
A few hundred yards away in a red-bricked cottage, Tom Douglas relaxed on his comfortable sofa with the Saturday papers spread around him. An old Fleetwood Mac album that he’d bought out of nostalgia was playing in the background. His dad had played Rumours nonstop when he was a kid, and when he saw it on iTunes he couldn’t resist downloading it.
He was struggling to get used to these lazy days, though, and after a couple of hours of doing nothing, he was getting restless. He’d just decided that he should get up and do something useful when the doorbell rang. He couldn’t imagine who on earth had tracked him down here. He knew hardly anybody except the neighbours who had invited him to dinner that evening.
Remembering that one job he still had to do was to take the front door off and plane a bit off the bottom, he opened it with a sharp tug to welcome his unexpected visitor.
‘Steve! Hi! What a surprise to see you. What brings you to this neck of the woods? Come on in.’
It was good to see an old friend. Steve had been Tom’s sergeant in Manchester a few years previously. He had taken a promotion by moving to the Cheshire force and they had kept in occasional contact but hadn’t seen each other since Tom had relocated to London three years ago.
Tom had forgotten how tall Steve was. He was one hell of big guy, in girth as well as in height, and although Tom had checked that the low beams and ceilings of his cottage were sufficient to accommodate his own six-foot height, he hadn’t allowed for the extra five inches that Steve could boast. And no hair on top to cushion him either, Tom noticed with surprise. It was obviously longer than he thought since they had seen each other.
Ducking as he made his way through to the sitting room, Steve spoke over his shoulder.
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