Pam doesn’t reply. Instead she grabs at her stomach with both hands and falls to her knees in agony.
Ϡ
Pete has the car keys in his hand and he is standing in the kitchen when he hears footsteps upstairs. They are heavy but he knows it is just that silly man, Myles, probably staggering to the bathroom to be sick. Anyway, the sounds have stopped now. He takes a pace towards the garage.
Upstairs, a footstep falls heavily on the floor right above his head. He looks up and tries to work out what there must be above this part of the long kitchen. The bathroom is probably right overhead, he decides, so, yes, it’s Myles staggering about the bathroom. He takes another pace.
Another heavy tread echoes down from directly above. It’s as if there is someone mirroring his moves one floor up. Unnerved, his mind starts to race, he starts to talk to himself, in his mind, to try and calm his nerves. His mind wanders as he moves towards the garage door.
As he passes the kitchen table, he becomes aware that there is actually someone in the room with him. He looks over his shoulder, turns all the way around and faces the room. No-one there. But, then, he feels unsafe, with the garage door right behind him and who knows what on the other side. It’s closed, but all the same it doesn’t feel right. He is uneasy. He puts his hand on the handle while looking around the kitchen. There is no way that there is anyone else is in the room with him. But still the back of his neck is being worried by something cold. Something is stroking the hairs there. It’s like the inside of his body knows he is not alone, and his head is telling him he is not alone, and the only things that doubt his brain are his eyes, and they are seeing nothing but the kitchen. The back door is still shut, nothing has come in, but he can hear the wind, or something, outside.
What did they just see? Outside the house there was nothing but darkness, there was no light apart from a slight spill from the front door, but that was enough; that, and some yellow glows that could have been moths caught in the light from the door. They could have been, except there were so many of them, some up close to the window. He saw yellow slits with lines of red in them, and then hundreds more going back into the blackness until they became just tiny dots, and then nothing. They were moving slightly, like moths might, but slower, much slower, swaying in the wind. And by the light they were giving off he could see the branches of trees, twisted to look like fingers, the knuckles picked out in places by the lights. Just tall black shapes with twisted branches swaying and crunching in the wind. Just trees, just standing there, guarding the house.
But the eyes? The Missing? His imagination? His stories?
‘Drover says to get the gun,’ he whispers to himself. ‘All you have to do.’
He sees the back door. It is still closed but the glass is missing in that one pane behind the blind. That was from when Drover broke it. Of course! The uneasy feeling he has is caused by the cold wind blowing in through the broken window. That’s all it is. He used to get the same feeling when they were at the squat, when the wind blew in through the cracks between the boards, when Drover would go out and leave him alone. He would feel cold and unsafe then. But then, later, Drover would come back with something to eat and they’d sit and fill their bellies and tell stories and laugh, and Pete would feel warm, and safe.
But, now, he is alone in this man’s kitchen and he has to go and find the gun. He has to do this because Drover needs him to. That’s all there is to it. Forget what strange lights there are outside, forget the dead man, the drunk man, the nasty woman and the nice girl.
Drover needs his help. But, he is Pete, and Pete doesn’t do this kind of stuff. Pete doesn’t find hidden guns and pick them up. So, what can he do? (No more footsteps from upstairs, but still he was told to be quick and careful.) What can he do to make sure he can help Drover get away from the house like he wants to. He has to think more like his friend. He has to be more like Drover. Which is actually all Pete has ever really wanted.
He opens the garage door and looks inside.
The light is still on and he can see the car. He can’t miss it, it’s taking up most of the space. There’s a freezer, loads of shelves and rubbish, and plenty of places for someone to hide. He tells himself that there is no one else in this room.
But, there is more money. There is a small clump of banknotes by the freezer, lying next to a heavy chain and padlock. Strange things, he thinks, and looks closer. Sure enough, there are a few hundred pounds in this little bundle. He thinks of the two bags in the sitting room. He thinks about the gun.
And he starts to think like Drover.
If he gets the gun and takes it back to Drover they can take their money, and, when it gets light and they can see where they are going, they can leave. But, if he puts this money in the car instead, then, they can drive away with it. Didn’t Drover say something about taking the car? Putting the body in it and making it look like the gangsters had done it? If there’s money in the boot then they can take that as well. But, then, didn’t she say that William wasn’t dead?
Pete can’t process all this. He can, though, feel the solid lump of cash in his hand. He looks down at it and his eyes fall on the freezer. He remembers the kitchen, the money in the fridge, in the cupboards. He opens the chest freezer and looks in.
Ice, plastic bags, frozen food. And money. Stacks of it. Just lying there. Literally, cold, hard cash.
He closes the lid. It’s not his to admire, not his to take.
But Drover would be pleased with him, he knows it.
He goes to the car and unlocks the boot. He thinks, ‘That’s the first time I’ve ever unlocked a car door. It was easy. This isn’t so bad.’ He looks inside and moves an old sack around until he sees the outline of the gun under the carpet. He moves an old tool kit to one side and fishes under the carpet with his hand until he feels the barrel. He drags the gun out and puts it carefully on the floor.
That was simple enough. The gun didn’t go off, and no-one appeared and told him off. Maybe this isn’t so wrong after all. He steps back to the freezer.
Looking down at the long, white and rusty box, he wonders what his dad would say about all this. Would he be proud that Pete is the one chosen to go and fetch the gun? Or would he be upset that Pete had a friend like Drover? No, he decides, of course he wouldn’t. His dad knew Drover. He didn’t approve of him at first because of where he was living and who he was living with. His dad, like lots of people, didn’t like the ‘pikeys’, as he called them. But, when he heard how Drover looked out for Pete at school he was okay with him. So, yes, dad would approve that Pete was helping his friend.
All the same, he is thinking about stealing more money and putting it in a stranger’s car and driving off with it. But, then, he won’t actually be driving and this family won’t miss it. And this family actually came to kill, and not by accident, either.
He hears a noise from upstairs and reminds himself that he should be hurrying. There’s only one thing to do, he finally decides, and that is to do what Drover would do.
He opens the lid again and a cold blast of air hits him like some kind of icy warning from the grave. It makes him doubt himself. This is him taking money from someone else; this isn’t him doing what Drover says he should. He leans against the freezer and glances inside, briefly. It’s a deep one; the money is down at the bottom with some other stuff. Can he reach it? He looks away because he doesn’t want to see it. This is wrong. This is him doing what his dad said not to do. But, then, this is him deciding to do what his friend would want, what is best for them. So, that’s good, isn’t it? He’s helping a friend. Drover said this man had so much money that he won’t miss some.
He can’t look, but he can reach in. It’s not so bad, stealing what you can’t see, he reasons with himself. It’s not as bad as taking what you can see. Stretching as far as he can, he just manages get his fingers on the edge of
some of the cash. He looks around for something to stand on but there isn’t really anything so he leans in sideways, turning his face to look along the edge of the freezer so he can stretch in deeper. His fingers touch plastic. He strains. There’s something round and cold there, lumpy in odd places. He has no idea what that might be. His fingers touch more plastic, the corner of something, and he gets it between two fingers, right at the edge. He dares himself to turn his head and look in, to see what he is doing, but he can’t, not from that angle. He looks up, grits his teeth and stretches his arm down as far as it will go, pressing his underarm painfully against the rim. He gets a better grip on the thing and pulls it up.
He stands up and hears footsteps overhead, three heavy stomps, like the person was coming into the room directly above. He hears a door shut and looks at his hands.
He’s holding five hundred pounds, he reckons. He reaches in for another bag and this time he can stand on the bag he’s just pulled out, giving himself a little bit more reach. Doing this, he pulls out two more bags, and, then, hearing the person upstairs moving around, decides he has been bad enough for one day and so closes the freezer. He puts the money in the sack that’s in the boot of the car and shuts the boot quietly.
Checking that the boot is locked and feeling pleased with himself, he picks up the gun and walks back to the kitchen.
The gun is heavy in his hand. It’s like the wood of the handle is burning him and it doesn’t feel good, holding a gun. But, then, the lady asked him, told him, to fetch the thing and so she obviously trusts him. He won’t let himself feel bad that he put money in the boot. That is what Drover would have told him to do. Anyway, it actually feels quite nice to be doing something bad for a change. He feels proud of himself for being able to do it. He has helped the lady and Drover. He’s done his good deeds by doing something slightly naughty. That’s all. It’s a strange but not unwelcome feeling.
He puts the other things out of his mind; the accident, the weird sounds and yellow lights outside. There are too many strange things happening tonight for him to take in, so he decides not to take in any of them.
He reaches the front door and notices that the chain is back on. Very sensible, he thinks, you never know who is going to be out and about on a night like this. And, then, he realises that the wind has died down. In fact, as he stops and listens, he can hear no sound whatsoever. There is no-one moving around upstairs and no-one outside.
Silence, as pure as it is unexpected.
Which makes him feel strangely nervous as he puts his hand on the door handle and walks back into the sitting room.
Nineteen
WALKING INTO THE ROOM, Pete sees Lily kneeling on the floor and wonders what she is doing. Then he sees that she and Drover are helping the woman into a chair. Pam looks pale and her face is screwed up. She is holding her tummy and doesn’t look well.
‘I got it,’ Pete says, holding out the gun.
‘Good man, Pete,’ Drover says as he stands back.
‘Where’s Myles?’ Pam’s voice is quiet and strained.
That’s strange, Pete thinks. She has always been loud, sharp. Her voice had power and now it sounds the opposite. ‘What’s happened?’ he asks.
‘Pam’s not feeling well,’ Lily says, but there’s no concern in her voice. Pete wonders why this might be and how come a daughter can be as rude to her mother as Lily is.
‘Where’s Myles?’ Pam says again.
‘He’s not in the kitchen,’ Pete says, trying to be helpful. ‘I heard someone upstairs, over the garage, but then that stopped. There’s no one moving about. Shall I go and look?’
‘No!’ Pam reaches out a hand towards him and her expression is pained. ‘No,’ she says more quietly. ‘Stay there by the door, with the gun. If anything comes through it, shoot it.’
‘Anything like what?’ Drover says. He steps back from Pam’s chair and goes to the window. He’s got this half smile on his face, a smile that Pete recognises. It means he’s interested but doubtful at the same time.
‘William,’ Pam says. She looks directly at Pete for a moment and pulls herself up in the chair. Her voice is stronger now. Whatever was troubling her looks like it’s passing. ‘Second thoughts,’ she says, ‘give me the gun.’
Pete looks to Drover who shakes his head.
‘No,’ Pete says. ‘You’re okay. I’ve got it.’
‘Give it to me,’ she demands, and grips the arms of the chair.
‘No.’ Pete looks over to Drover again; he reminds himself that he must be more like his friend. ‘We got the money we need,’ he says, and winks as a signal that he has taken more. Drover winks back and that wink makes Pete feel very special; he knows he did the right thing. ‘The car is ready and I got the keys.’
‘Good man,’ Drover says and takes a peep outside.
He cups his hands onto the glass to see more clearly into the night, leans into the glass and then Pete sees him pull back sharply. He drops the curtain back and now he looks worried. He takes a step towards Pete but is stopped by Pam. She sits up in her chair, right on the edge and the authority is back in her voice.
‘You’ll never get out of this house alive,’ she says.
‘What you gunna do about it, lady?’ Drover says, and puts his hands on his hips as he looks down at her. Pete thinks he looks really in charge like that, even though his eyes are now darting around the room like he was looking for a way out. He may still be filthy and covered in mud, and his hair would look much better if he washed it, but he also looks strong and commanding, and that’s really making Pete feel safe. Nothing is going to happen to them when Drover is taking charge.
If only he looked a bit more confident.
‘Our only chance now is to see this through,’ she says.
‘Oh, leave it alone, will you?’
‘You don’t understand a thing about it.’
‘I understand you’ve been raving about shit for the last hour while we should have been driving away from here. You wanted him dead, he’s dead.’
‘He’s not. He can’t be.’
‘Accept it, lady. Pete, chuck us the keys.’
Pete throws them over, but in a flash Pam is on her feet and catches them. She rounds on Drover, and pushes her finger into his chest.
‘You don’t know what family you’ve meddled with,’ she says through clenched teeth.
Drover brushes her hand away. ‘Yeah, I do, a mad one.’ He looks past her to Pete. ‘You want to give me the gun, Pete?’ He looks back at her pointedly to make sure she gets the message.
But she still has the car keys. ‘You are not going anywhere until this is finished.’
‘Until what’s finished?’
She looks at the clock. ‘Lily, go and call for your grandfather. He will be upstairs.’ Lily sits down in a chair as an act of defiance. She is not going anywhere. ‘Lily!’
‘Grandpa’s dead,’ Drover says. ‘Don’t know what you did with the body, or why, don’t know what your game is, either, but he’s dead. You owe us. We’re going with the money and that’s it. We’re even. Give us the keys.’
‘It’s for your own good,’ Pam says. ‘Lily!’
‘Don’t think she’s interested. Lily, you want to come with us?’
Lily sits up in her seat and looks across at Pete. Pete suddenly feels all nervous again, thrilled and intrigued, but nervous.
‘Do you want me to come with you, Pete?’ the girl asks, and he shrugs.
‘You must do as I tell you or you are not going to live,’ Pam says. Her voice is weakening again. ‘Call for your grandfather. Get ready to shoot.’ She grimaces. Her face looks pained.
‘Leave it alone, Pam,’ Lily says, and then laughs.
Drover makes a grab for the keys in Pam’s hand. He gets his fingers ar
ound them and pulls, but she is quicker, or smarter.
Before Pete can do anything he hears a grunt from Drover and sees Pam’s leg move really fast. Drover staggers back against a table. He knocks things over as he doubles up.
Pete raises the gun, shaking, and aims it at her as best he can.
‘Don’t do that,’ he says, but his voice is quiet. His throat is dry. ‘Don’t!’ That time he was louder.
Pam turns to look at him and she dangles the keys. Then she puts them into the front of her shirt and tucks them in there somewhere.
‘Why not just hand that over to me?’ she says, and she’s calm now. Whatever pain she was feeling has passed. ‘Let me explain what’s going on here.’
‘Drover, you okay?’ Pete sees Pam take a step closer. He holds the gun tighter.
He watched Drover aiming at a rabbit earlier and remembers how he held the gun. That was just before the play fight, when the sun was shining and the woods were an adventure. Now, Drover is over there and hurt and there’s this mad woman between them, and Pete knows that the only thing he can do is threaten her with this gun.
‘Stay away,’ Pete says, and pulls the gun in tighter to his shoulder.
Pam stops where she is, across the room from him. ‘He’s not going to help you,’ she says. ‘Your man there, he’s not going to help you out of this one. You’re going to get put away for a long time. You want that, do you? Prison?’
‘Be quiet, please.’ He looks at Drover hoping he can help.
Drover waves him down; he’s still too winded to talk.
‘No use looking at him, this friend of yours.’ She is taunting him now. ‘He’s not here for you. He’s waiting for you to make a mistake so he can take his money and disappear. You should give me that so I can protect all of us.’
Lonely House Page 20