by Dan Clark
“Father Joseph said we can stay here until we’re sorted.”
Carolyn looks from her mother towards Father Joseph. She wonders if he’d hated offering his home to her.
I bet he thinks of me as a troublemaker, and that I pushed some crazy arsonist into starting the fire across the road from his church.
She’s about to protest when Father Joseph speaks up.
“There’s a spare room with a single bed. You can sleep on the sofa if you like, and give your mother the bed.” His icy blue eyes stare at her from behind thick-framed glasses.
“Mum, it might be safer if we stay in a hotel again. Whoever started this fire might come back—”
“Started?” Jeanette cuts her off. “They don’t even know how the fire was started. It might have been an electrical fault for all you know. Besides, I’m not going back to that smelly dump of a B&B. I belong here at the church, so here is where I’m staying.”
Carolyn is about to protest, and tell her mother to stay here with Father Joseph and that she’ll head back to the B&B, using the excuse that she doesn’t want to put Father Joseph to any further inconvenience. Then she thinks for a moment and decides to stay. If anyone wants to come back and harm her mother, they’ll have to go through her first.
Jeanette looks over at her smoking bungalow and turns into the presbytery. Father Joseph shows them to the spare room and leaves them to talk.
A little later, Father Joseph knocks and enters the room. “Here’s something for you to sleep in, Jeanette,” he says, handing over a pair of men’s loose trousers and a baggy t-shirt. “I got these from the donation bags. I’ve been meaning to drop them off at the charity shop.”
Carolyn’s bag of clothes is still in the boot of the car after packing up her things from the B&B earlier in the day. She will lend Jeanette a few clothes tomorrow until they can get to the shop and buy her some new things.
***
The killer can’t believe his luck. That fire was furious! He’s confident it will send Carolyn home now and stop her from digging any further. After all, she can’t stay here for ever. She’ll have no choice but to head home. Out of his life and his business.
Maybe now he can rest. No more sleepless nights worrying about what Carolyn is going to find out next.
***
The three of them sit at Father Joseph’s kitchen table eating the tinned soup he has prepared. Nobody speaks for the first five minutes. Carolyn is beginning to feel uncomfortable.
“Now do you believe me that something weird is happening, Mum?” Carolyn asks.
Jeanette doesn’t answer. Carolyn isn’t sure if she even heard the question.
“Let’s not go into that tonight, Carolyn,” Father Joseph says. “I think your mother is under enough stress right now.”
Carolyn keeps her gaze on him and stands up, her bowl still full of soup. “Well, I’m not going to stop looking,” she says. “Even if I have to stay in that dump of a B&B for the next twelve months.”
Father Joseph holds her gaze, but doesn’t say anything else. Jeanette carries on with her soup and stays quiet.
“I’m going to devote my life to finding out what happened to them missing boys before I even think of going back to Leeds!” Carolyn promises, heading towards the front door for air. On her way out, she hears them murmur quietly to each other, but she can’t make out what they’re saying.
Carolyn tries Father Joseph’s sofa and finds it too hard, and barely long enough to lie on full-length. Its itchy fabric and hard cushions remind her of the types you would see in the reception of an office waiting area. The huge statue of Jesus on the cross pinned to the wall gives her the creeps. She feels as if the eyes of the statue are following her around the room, watching her carefully and reporting back to Father Joseph. She doesn’t like the thought of Father Joseph getting up in the middle of the night and watching her sleep. A silly thought, she knows, but it’s there nonetheless.
She moves to the bedroom with her mother and decides to sleep on the floor.
It takes hours for Jeanette to finally drift off to sleep. Carolyn hadn’t known what else to say after “It’ll all be okay” and “The insurance will fix everything.” Truthfully, Carolyn was waiting for Jeanette to jump up and scream at her, to yell that none of this would have happened if Carolyn hadn’t gone round causing trouble. That none of this would happened if she hadn’t been telling distraught parents that she had seen their missing child down a well. But of course, Jeanette hadn’t said or done any of those things. Instead, she’d ignored her daughter’s attempts at comfort and turned to face the wall.
Carolyn longs for her father. He’d always stayed calm in troublesome times and could make Jeanette feel at ease in any situation. He’d have known what to do and what to say.
Carolyn remembers past times like Christmas and anniversaries that she and Simon would spend with them. Ryan wasn’t yet born, and never got the chance to meet him, which crosses Carolyn’s mind from time to time. She would especially think of him after his death, when she would see kids play with their grandparents in the park or even on adverts on the television.
It’s now 2:00 am and Carolyn is wide awake. The worry is back again, sitting in her stomach and refusing to leave. She’s waiting to hear the sound of people walking past the bedroom window, whispering to their fellow arsonist friends, who would be trying the doors and attempting to break in to get to her. She wonders how Father Joseph can sleep with the loud ticking of the clock out in the hallway.
Jeanette restlessly tosses and turns and murmurs something Carolyn can’t make out.
Carolyn kicks the blanket off her legs and sits upright. She needs fresh air to clear her head. She slips on her jeans and boots and pulls on a jumper before creeping from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.
Father Joseph’s room is further down at the bottom of the hall, his door slightly ajar. The lamp in the living room is still on, and it gives Carolyn enough light to make her way through quietly. She tiptoes as stealthily as she can, but still causes the odd squeak of a floorboard, though she’s confident the noise will be disguised by the clock’s loud ticking. Father Joseph’s home is immaculate and clutter-free, with the bare minimum of furniture. She comes to two doors, both ajar. She looks through the gap into the first room, where the majority of the space is taken up with a chest freezer and washer-dryer. She peers through the second door and finds his study. She carries on, reaching the living room. The huge crucifix on the wall looks at her with added judgement. She passes without giving it another glance and opens the front door, keeping the lock off the latch and closing it to keep out the bitter night air.
Carolyn can see what remains of her mother’s home across the road. She can see that the large dark building is now nothing more than a pile of bricks and wood, with all of her mother’s possessions inside, burned to an ash. She rests her back against the wall next to the front door and closes her eyes.
Carolyn wishes she had never come to stay with her mother or caused any of this trouble. If she had never come, she would never have seen that body in the well. She wishes that Simon and Ryan had never been on the motorway that day. She wishes she’d never got Barry Cookson involved in helping her, and in return, getting him stabbed. She wishes she were home in bed with Simon while Ryan sleeps peacefully in his own room. She imagines that they both would be discussing what cakes she has on order for tomorrow. She’d complain about how yet another customer had tried to haggle down the price. Simon would complain about the office manager demanding more from him and his colleagues as the firm tries cutting back on expenses. They’d discuss the MOT which is due on the car, and how the boiler might need a visit from the engineer.
Carolyn would give anything to have those problems back again.
She hugs herself and opens her eyes to forget the memories before she breaks out crying. She brings her attention back to ways she can make it up to her mother, or at least try to dull the pain. She walks down the st
eps and across the road to the wreckage, her boots louder than normal on the damp road surface.
She doubts there’ll be anything to salvage, but she hopes to find a few pictures that she doesn’t have copies of, praying that they’ve survived the blaze.
Jeanette would be furious knowing that Carolyn had even attempted to go near the wreck, never mind tried stepping inside it, but Carolyn hopes her mother will feel a little better having something to remember her home by. Carolyn ducks under the fire tape which is ordering people to stay out, and peers through the gap that used to be a window. The roof has caved in, and the doorway is blocked by shards of roof tiles and blackened timber. She steps around the side, crossing over the burned and flattened grass and bushes. At the rear, where the back door used to be, is a large opening in the wall. Carolyn looks up and around for anything that could still collapse on top of her, and seeing nothing but stars, she steps through. She reaches into her pocket for her mobile to use as a torch and curses herself when she remembers she’d left it on the side table next to her sleeping mother. The moonlight will have to do. She steps on top of the fallen bricks and over splintered wood. Plates and cups crunch under her boots as she steps through the doorframe into the living room. The metal skeletal remains of her father’s chair sit in front of a heap of melted plastic and a crumbled TV cabinet.
In the far corner, where it looks as if the fire was brought under control, is a cabinet that’s only partly affected. The wallpaper behind it is dark but still shows the swirly patterns. The sponge from the sofa cushions is exposed but not completely incinerated. The contents of a collapsed wooden cabinet are spilled across the floor.
She kneels, moving blackened, splintered wood out of the way, and begins rummaging through books, photographs and papers that were once important documents. Most of the letters are unsalvageable, while others are only suffering from curled edges and discolouration. She slips the pictures into her pocket and moves broken glass ornaments to the side, then she spots a purple lump of melted candle wax.
These were purple candles?
She thinks back to the purple candle wax she’d found at the well that day. She’d showed it to the police, but they weren’t interested in hearing any more about it. Why would her mother have the same-coloured candles as the lump of wax she’d found next to the well?
Could just be a coincidence. Perhaps. Candles aren’t uncommon in most households, she thinks.
She stands to take it back over to the presbytery; she’ll ask her mother about it in the morning. Turning to leave, she hears wood moving and footsteps approaching fast from behind.
She spins around, but not quickly enough.
Then comes a whack on the back of her head. Darkness fills her vision, and she can feel the sharp bricks dig into her shoulder as her body hits the ground.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jeanette wakes at 7:00 am and stares at the ceiling. She starts thinking about what she can make for breakfast. A full fry-up, or scrambled egg and toast?
For a moment, she forgets where she is. Then the reality comes and lands like a ton of bricks. She sighs, looking down at the floor to see Carolyn isn’t there. She assumes she’s gone to Barry’s, or is speaking to the police again, most likely telling them how to do their jobs. Her daughter has not wanted to stay put lately; she’s always out getting in people’s way. She thinks of what Carolyn was blabbering about last night – about getting to the bottom of the truth about the missing boys.
“After all this is cleared up, you should move to Leeds with me and leave Llanbedr behind.” Carolyn had said. But why should I? Jeanette thinks. This is my home. This is where my friends are based, and the church that needs me. The church that I need. I know Father Joseph will allow me to stay as long as I need to. He’s a good man like that. We’ve grown to become good friends over the years.
Jeanette decides that she’ll talk to Carolyn today. She’ll tell her that she’s fine to handle the insurance, and whatever else is needed, by herself. She’ll tell her that she should try to forget about all this mess, before it causes any more trouble, and that Carolyn should take herself back off home. This unfortunate house fire was nothing to do with her, Jeanette thinks. There isn’t anybody after her or wanting to cause her any harm. She really shouldn’t have to go through finding somewhere to sleep. At the end of the day, she’s still grieving the loss of her family. She doesn’t need to be imagining that some crazed killer is out there hunting her. What happened to her friend Barry was just a vicious, random attack. It happens all the time, all over the country. Just watch the News.
Jeanette pulls the covers to one side and sits up, rubbing her face – then notices Carolyn’s mobile on the bedside table. The blanket and pillow are still on the floor, crumpled together. Something doesn’t make sense here, she thinks. Jeanette knows her daughter. She knows Carolyn would never leave without her mobile, and she’d always fold and tidy away any blankets she’d been using. That’s how she and her husband had raised her.
Jeanette waits, sitting on the edge of the bed, for Carolyn to come back from the bathroom.
“Breakfast is ready,” Father Joseph shouts through the door as he knocks lightly. Jeanette stands up and opens the door. She pops her head out and looks at the open door of the bathroom.
“Have you seen Carolyn?” she asks. “Her clothes are gone, and she’s left her phone.”
“No. She must have gone out,” Father Joseph replies. He doesn’t sound particularly worried.
They sit at the table over three English breakfasts. Father Joseph pours the coffee.
“She’s probably gone into town to get you some new clothes,” he says. “She did say that last night, remember? I’ll wrap her breakfast up and keep it in the oven.”
At the table, Jeanette moves a sausage from side to side as she watches the steam leave Carolyn’s breakfast. She has a sick feeling in her stomach.
“Carolyn wouldn’t have left without her phone…” she tails off, then stands up and walks over to where Carolyn’s bag is on the counter. She searches through it. “And here are my car keys. So how did she get into town?” A worried look is starting to creep on her face.
Father Joseph looks at Jeanette with a puzzled expression and shrugs. “Maybe she got that friend of hers to come for her. What’s his name… that Barry. Don’t worry. I’m going into town soon. I’ll look for her, okay?”
Jeanette nods and thanks him, before sitting back at the table and sipping her coffee. It tastes awful, not like the one that her coffee machine at home makes… used to make.
“She’s probably left the car on purpose. She knows I’ll need some things after the fire and didn’t want to leave me without it,” Jeanette says, hoping to convince herself. “I’ll go through her phone after breakfast and give Barry a call, to see if she’s there.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Carolyn’s head is hanging on her chest, and drool is leaving her lips. She’s dreaming of being in Simon’s car again. The angry lorry with the evil-looking headlights is following behind them, with its huge engine growling and hissing. It doesn’t want to pass them. It wants to run them off the road and squash their car, killing them.
The frantic cries from Ryan in the back seat pierce Carolyn’s eardrums. Remembering the whack from behind, she holds a hand to the back of her head and feels the warm blood trickle down her fingers and wrist. When she spins around this time to hush her frightened son, he hasn’t disappeared, as he had done in earlier dreams. He looks at her with wide, wet eyes, his bottom lip is trembling as he grabs for her hand. She holds his hand tightly and looks back at Simon. He has both hands off the wheel and is facing her. The lorry has now disappeared. He rests a hand on her knee as the car drives itself. She feels herself drifting off into oblivion, and is happy to spend the rest of her time here with her dearly-loved husband and son. She opens her mouth to speak, to tell them both how much she has missed them, when Simon speaks up first.
“You have to go, bab
e,” he says softly, and takes back his hand.
Carolyn doesn’t understand. Finally they’re all together, they’re a family again, and now he wants her to go? She knows this is the end and she’s happy for it, welcomes it even. The walk towards the white light has taken its time to reach her, but is finally here. She wants them all to be a family again and to join them on their journey to wherever they may end up. At least it’ll be the three of us, together at last, she thinks.
“You have to go, Mummy,” the little voice behind her says, and she feels his warm, tiny fingers leave her palm.
“But… I don’t want to go… I want to—”
Simon leans closer and kisses her. She can smell his aftershave, the one that smells slightly sweet, the one she really likes.
“It’s not your time, love. We’ll see you soon. I love you,” Simon says, looking behind him and back to Carolyn. “We both love you.”
Then darkness takes over.
Her back hurts, she’s freezing cold, and the pain on the back of her skull is excruciating. She lifts a hand to assess the damage and feels restricted, unable to move her arms and legs.
It’s the smell that she notices first, before she even opens her eyes: that dreadful smell from the pig farm in the distance. She raises her head, and the tinnitus noise echoes through her ears, causing the headache at the back to increase.
As her blurred vision clears, Carolyn looks around and hears the cooing from the pigeons above. She looks down at her arms to see she’s sitting on the floor, bound, with her back resting against a huge slab of concrete and the rope tied tightly around her midriff and legs.
Panic rushes through her.
This is the end. I’m going to be thrown down the well and forgotten.
The room she’s in looks like an old kitchen. The floorboards are dusty, and there are fresh shoeprints either side of a thick trail where the attacker had dragged Carolyn’s unconscious body. In the corner is an upturned table and chairs. A fridge is lying on its side, dented and missing a door. The counters are filled with old dusty beer bottles. The space where the oven used to be is empty, exposing the copper pipes forking out of the wall. The cracked concrete walls are covered in graffiti: marijuana symbols, nicknames, and lewd spray-painted penises. Carolyn studies the walls, imagining they could crumble at any second.