Laughing.
But now Pete has gone. There are no sounds inside here, just the chug of the motor that is constantly bringing down his body temperature; just that and the sound of his own body slowing.
I wonder if this is what it was like for those people who die at sea, he asks himself, like the people off that big ship who were in freezing water. Titanic. He saw the film one night with Pete. Where had that been? Someone’s trailer, someone’s caravan, certainly not a cinema. Slowly drifting off to sleep, feeling warm in the cold around you. That’s how Pete made him feel wasn’t it?
What was it about Pete? Was now the time to figure that out? Nothing else to do.
It was one of those days when he’d made a deal with the Lee family. Or was it Arthur Buckland? One of the few families who let him tag along. He was special. They didn’t let anyone into the family, very, very few. How had Drover become a part of a traveller camp? Something to do with his dad. Not his real dad. He was just a memory of a man walking away outside a church. But his other dad. His other, temporary father figure. It was something he used to say about being on the move. Always be on the move. That way no-one can pin you down. His dad had always been on the move, from one bar to another, from one woman to another. How come Drover had spent so long with his dad and no time with his mum? Who was she anyway? The real one. Come to that, who were his real parents and why did they give him away? He’d never got to the bottom of that one. Never really been bothered until now. Now it’s too late.
Did it matter?
No, nothing matters now.
Pete came from a deal with the travellers, doesn’t matter which one. Stay with us and work. You’re a good chava, a good worker, but you have to get some knowledge in your head. You need to go to school if you want to work with us. He remembers the scene, outside a caravan on a site, with naked kids playing over there and dogs sniffing around for scraps, the eldest girl going out in the Mercedes with her mother to fix up a wedding dress, her sister with a list of ‘chor’, what needed nicking for the aunt’s youngest child, and two of the men talking to him. The same two men who saved him from the violent man he knew as Dad when his dad would go right off at the deep end.
That thought brings back the chill of his tomb and he lets it slip by. This is a warm place now, warm thoughts only.
And Pete.
This stupid, oafish, fat guy in the school playground, always in trouble, always picked on. Something in Drover told him it wasn’t right. No-one should be treated like that, not by their dad, not by boys the same age, not by the girls who laughed and pointed and sniggered behind their own slutty fingernails.
Sometimes Drover just sees red and when he does he goes after it, kicks out, drags them off, throws away the scum and then lets things be; like the travellers let him be.
But this Pete came back, all big-eyes and dog-like, and Drover remembers smiling then like he’s smiling now. Big, stupid Pete. But, big, loyal Pete; tagging along, giving Drover something he needed. What was that? Why? Why was this Pete always at his side?
The freezer hums along, the inside as black as the most evil heart and yet Drover feels warm. Is he dying? His lungs don’t seem to be filling up as much as they were; he’s not getting enough air. He’s mellow, he’s not got any panic in him; just thoughts that make him smile. Pete by his side, making him laugh, giving him those gifts. He feels the cigarette lighter but daren’t flick it on. There’s little enough air left as it is.
Loyal and… Pete. Fill in the missing word.
That’s what it is. That’s why he keeps him around. He fills a gap, a huge aching gap left by everyone else; dad, mother, the travellers, any mates he might have had. None of them had what he needed. None of them had that blind loyalty and faith in him. None of them had that missing word.
It’s not a word Drover has said much or ever used, so he won’t think on about it. He moves his right leg to try and ease the hurt in it and wonders what Pete is doing now; escaping this madhouse, he hopes, heading off into the forest with that scrawny girl. Is it dawn yet? How long has he been in here? It could be light outside and they could be away with the money heading to a much better place than where Drover was taking him. Where was that?
Doesn’t matter. They wouldn’t have reached it. Pete would have begged the truth out of Drover sometime and then Pete would have gone and Drover would have lost the only thing, the only person, that could fill that desperate gap. He didn’t like lying to Pete but then he wasn’t, not really. He was only keeping the truth from him, and that’s not the same.
It was an accident.
Like this afternoon with the gun; an accident. In that bank, doing his job for the Bucklands, he didn’t know it was where Pete’s dad worked. He’d never said. Had he? But now, at least, Pete won’t ever know the truth. He’ll never hear it from Drover. And if he ever does find out, well, by then Drover will be away, gone, travelling somewhere else in another darkness, through space, into that warm, heart-numbing great black emptiness with the stars blinking high above and a flat, black ocean beneath him, and the gentle swaying of the sea of calm he is drowning in.
It will all die away as he floats off into his own reassuring silence; a dream of his own making, the one where he knows that he’s never been much liked, or trusted; the one where he might not have been useful or clever, but the one where he would know, as he slips into sleep, that at least he has been loved.
That’s the missing word.
Darkness as smooth as velvet. Dreams like friends. Special moments, warm memories. Someone by his side, walking at his pace, guarding him. Safety. Endlessness. Warmth like a blessing, a hand on his head, heavy but gentle, in control, guiding, ‘Bless you in the name of…’
Drover.
What is his name? What did they once call him?
Drover. Truth. Ghost train.
When he was small. Kneeling. A church? Where? A touch on the head, and all the power of something special, and all the warmth of something good, and all the strength of someone who needs him flowing through from the velvet black sky and into his head.
Drover! Accident. Tell me.
And the dull, relentless thud from another world.
He remembers now. He remembers his name.
They did used to call him Liam after all.
‘Drover!’
It’s muffled but he can hear the voice through the wall. What wall? Why is that cold? What’s running down his face? Where is he?
Thump. ‘Bullets.’ What’s in his hand? Car keys. Why?
‘Hang on.’ A kick outside the freezer. He’s in a freezer. Where’s Pete? Bullets.
‘Push up.’
From what? To where? His mind tumbles backwards to put the pieces into place, to start from the beginning so he can make sense of these words and this darkness. Darkness. Why? Freezer, Pete, gun, mistake, house, forest, walking, the squat, in hiding, their suspicion, no friends, his blood, their gun, your mistake, someone’s bank, those travellers, alone, no father, pain, father, traveling, moving on, mother, darkness.
‘Push hard, now!
Pete.
Twenty-seven
PETE IS AWARE of a soft hand on his face. He can smell a faint perfume mixed with the smell of oil. He can feel his hand on the cold ground and it feels slippery. He opens his eyes. His head hurts but within a second he knows where he is.
‘Get up.’ Lily is helping him to his feet. ‘He’s coming.’
He stands up carefully, not wanting to slip again, and looks at the freezer. He pulls up on the lid and then realises that it’s already being pushed up from inside. He can see the padlock. It is straining. Drover is in there and he’s pushing.
‘Get something, a screwdriver, anything,’ Pete orders Lily, and she, pale faced and surprised, obeys.
She br
ings a chisel and Pete shoves it into the rubber seal. It’s not going to help lever the lid up but it’s making an airway to inside. He twists it and slides it and jabs it in as, from inside, Drover pushes the lid and the padlock loop stretches a little more.
‘Stop!’ Pete shouts, and the lid falls shut. He twists the padlock and it starts to come free of the chain. But then he hears the sound. A slow footstep in the kitchen, the thump and drag of William coming closer.
Pete wrenches the padlock free, throws the chain away, and grabs the gun from the lid. The chain rattles to the floor as Drover, covered in blood and pieces of ripped flesh, rises up out of the freezer gasping desperately for breath.
‘Keys,’ Pete says. He can’t look at Drover. That’s not what he wants to do. He needs those keys.
Drover, shaking, and staggering to his knees, lifts up a bloody hand. The car keys are hooked onto a finger. Pete rips them from him and turns to the car boot.
There’s a crash against the door. And then a grunt, like William is confused.
‘Get out,’ Pete orders. ‘Hide.’
His hands are shaking as he struggles with the car boot. He is aware of Drover climbing from the freezer behind him, and of Lily running around the side of the car. He sees her lift the garage door control.
‘No,’ Pete hisses, ‘not outside.’
Lily dives down out of sight. The key goes into the lock. William slams against the door once again and the stuff Lily has piled up against it starts to fall away. Pete sees Drover follow Lily towards the front of the car, as far from the door as they can get. He hears William right behind him, only a few feet away, pushing against the door and grunting. He lifts the boot lid, looks in, sees nothing, sticks his hand under the carpet into the black hole, the shotgun heavy in his hand. William is pushing through the door, the man’s breathing growing louder, closer; nearly on him, nearly in the room.
Pete feels around for the bag of cartridges, hears the door start to open behind him. He touches something. It must be the bag. He grabs it, takes it, backs away, lifts the shotgun and smashes it against the overhead light, breaking the bulb.
There’s a flicker and the whole garage is plunged into darkness. Pete feels his way around the car towards the front just as he hears the door to the kitchen kicked open. There’s a growl from William. The sound of the light switch flicked up and down a few times, and then he feels someone grab his leg. He nearly shouts in shock. He is pulled down and, silently, he crouches, ducks, and is pulled gently backwards. The other two are crouched under the shelves, on their haunches, their backs to the cold concrete walls.
It’s no protection. Darkness is their only protection here, and Pete has this feeling that William knows they are in the room.
He hears the sound of the freezer lid opening and then something heavy landing inside with a muffled thud, and he imagines it is Pam’s body. He hears the lid of the freezer close and he holds his breath.
Pete’s heart is racing, his arms are shaking. He has a bitter taste at the back of his throat and he wants to cry. He has no idea how he just did what he did. Why did he rescue Drover? To get the car keys. Why did he tell Lily to stay inside? So she wouldn’t run out into the trees and get caught. How does he know she would be caught? How does he understand what’s going on, and how come he’s done what he’s just done? He can make no sense of it, except that it was all the right thing to do.
There’s a shape, a space in the darkness, that’s lighter than the rest of the blackness around him. It’s the kitchen door. The light from the hall is spilling into the kitchen and now that his eyes are adjusting to the dark, Pete can see the doorway. Soon his eyes will be able to pick out more as the darkness lightens. But, what if William can see clearly in the dark? Why should Pete be blind and William not?
Pete is desperate. Now he’s got the gun and the cartridges he has no idea what to do with them. He doesn’t know if that’s Drover behind him, or if he is the person next to him. Pete is doubled over, keeping as still as he can, with his head bent forward and his neck starting to ache. If he moves he will give them all away. He can feel someone else’s breath on the back of his head and he can feel sweat running down his face. It’s trickling into his eye but he can’t wipe it.
The patch of grey suddenly blacks out and he realises that the hulking figure of William is now in the doorway. Which way is he going? He can’t tell but he hears the sound of the door closing.
There is no sound in the garage apart from the hum of the freezer. The motor clunks, there’s a rattling noise and it switches off.
Now there is just silence and darkness.
Pete waits. He must not move. William could be right there, or could be on the other side of the door. He’s not heard him walk away. He feels the person behind him move, slowly and silently. They lean forward.
‘It’s in here.’
It’s Lily. Her words are just breath but Pete understands. He feels her put an arm around him and he thinks that’s to make her feel safer. It’s like she is relying on him, but he has no clue as to what he should do, apart from stay still and silent.
A sudden noise. A metallic rattling and a crash. Something heavy hits the ground with a clang and the noise is amplified a hundred times in the blackness. William is rummaging for something on the workbench. Pete hears him draw in a long breath, hears bubbles in his throat, saliva in the mouth, and then a throaty cough and a spit. Something heavy and wet splats onto the ground and William hoiks up some more.
Then, there’s a kind of ripping sound and a crunch. Pete imagines one of Pam’s arms, in William’s mouth, those teeth he saw earlier digging into the flesh, William pulling the arm to one side and ripping a lump from it, then crunching down on the bone and grinding that up in his mouth.
Pete hears Lily right behind him. It sounds like she is gagging.
He hears William mumble something, then the rattle of tools and tins. Suddenly, there’s a light, a flash of yellow through the blackness. William shines a torch across the ceiling, then down to the floor.
Lily gasps, starts to throw up, tries to control it. Her leg slips. She kicks Pete, the shelves rattle, and the torchlight instantly flashes their way.
It all happens so fast. Pete sees the light run along the ground between the car and the shelves. He sees Drover’s bloody jacket beside him, closest to the light, and he feels Lily pushing him from behind. He’s frozen. He doesn’t know what to do.
‘Run!’ He hears a voice, but he has no idea whose it is at first. He feels himself being shoved from behind and from the side. Lily and Drover are pushing him out from their cramped space and Drover is telling him to run.
The next thing Pete knows he is standing up, the light is shining towards him and the thing that was William is coming straight at him. He can hear snarling and he can smell foul breath. It’s almost on him. The light is blinding him and he can’t move his legs.
But, then, the light disappears. Blacked out. He realises that Drover is standing between him and the thing. He is about to shout, no. He knows it’s not right. Drover should be running, but Lily pulls him and he stumbles backwards.
He is being pulled around the front of the car. Not outside. But she doesn’t open the door. She pulls him around the car and Pete looks across it. He is level with Drover still on the other side and he sees he has something in his hand. He has no idea what it is but Drover is swinging it around and he sees it knock the torch. There’s a wild flash of yellow beam, sideways, up and then down and the torch hits the floor.
The next thing Pete knows is that he is at the garage door and Lily has opened it. She’s gone through into the kitchen. Where’s Drover? Pete turns to look back into the garage. The slight spill of light shows the back of the car and then darkness. But, coming out of that darkness is a shape. It’s lurching, it has blood down one side of its face, the othe
r is white. It has a hand reaching out and that too is bloody, but it’s reaching out for help; the mouth is twisted, the eyes are wide and pleading. It is Drover, blood across his face like a half-mask. His blood? Pete doesn’t know and doesn’t have time to think. He reaches in, grabs Drover’s hand and yanks him from the darkness into the kitchen. He slams the door.
They back away. Lily is at the back door.
‘No!’ Pete shouts. But she has opened it. She screams as a long, gnarled hand grabs her and starts to pull.
‘The gun, Pete.’
Pete doesn’t know how to load it. Pete doesn’t know which way to turn. He’s done everything he can. What does he do next?
He feels Drover take the gun and bullet bag from him. He’s taken the decision from Pete, leaving Pete free to run to the back door where he starts pulling Lily back inside the house. Outside is a mass of tall black shapes with flickering yellow lights between them, and beyond, rows of spectators, lines of the Missing, standing, ancient and young together, waiting.
He pulls her inside and kicks the door shut. He turns and Lily screams as the door to the garage crashes open against the wall.
A large, blood-dripping hand slaps against the wall and the light comes on.
William is in the room and Drover is still fumbling with the gun.
Twenty-eight
DROVER IS BACKING away from the garage, fumbling with the shotgun, ejecting the spent cartridges. Pete and Lily are behind him. The three are bunched up against the wall of the kitchen. To Pete’s left is the back door and the things outside. The door to the hall is over to his right, but too far to reach and where would he run to anyway? The only hope is Drover who is now shaking the gun, pushing a cartridge into the barrel. It looks like it’s not going in. And on the other side of Drover is William.
Lonely House Page 27