The Back Road

by Abbott, Rachel

  THE BACK ROAD

  Rachel Abbott

  The Back Road

  Copyright © Rachel Abbott 2013

  Rachel Abbott has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING

  Words and Music by DIANE WARREN

  © 1998 REALSONGS

  All Rights Reserved

  Used by Permission of ALFRED MUSIC PUBLISHING CO., INC

  All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author.

  Published by Black Dot Publishing Limited

  Find out more about the author and her other books at

  http://www.rachel-abbott.com

  Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Links

  Only the Innocent

  Prologue

  Prologue

  From the moment the cupboard door was slammed shut trapping them both inside, she knew something was different. It should have seemed just like every other day, but somehow it didn’t. She felt the familiar pain and discomfort - the same as always. So what was it?

  The girl soundlessly inched her feet across the confined space searching for her sister’s toes with her own, both to seek and to give comfort. She had to try to make her sister feel safe. It would soon be over. But the fingers of an undefined dread were crawling up her spine.

  Then her sister made a strange gurgling sound. She’d never made that sound before. It was as if something was stuck deep in her throat and she was trying to force it out. The girl silently willed her sister to stop.

  Shh. Be still. Be quiet.

  She rested her chin on her bony raised knees, and repeated the words over and over in her head, praying that her little sister would hear her thoughts and understand. If either of them made a noise, The Mother would be angry, and it would all be so much worse. Worse than suffering in silence.

  She had tried to say that they would be good. They didn’t need to be put in here. But The Mother always said the same thing.

  ‘I am The Mother. You are The Daughter. You do what I say. Don’t argue. I’ve told you what happens to bad children. The Bogeyman gets them, and eats them for his dinner.’ And then she laughed. The girl was scared of The Bogeyman. Perhaps he would be even worse than The Mother.

  She lifted her head slightly. A narrow crack in the wooden door let in a dusty sliver of light, illuminating a slender fragment of her sister’s face. It was white and shiny - a bit like a boiled egg when the shell was peeled away. She had never seen a face look like that before. Her sister lurched forward and bent over. Her hair was sticking to her forehead in damp curls, and she was making a noise in her throat. An awful noise. And there was a horrid smell too.

  They had to be as silent as baby mice or they would get a beating. Luckily at that moment the strange sounds coming from her sister wouldn’t be heard. It sounded like The Grunter was here today. He made noises all the time - like a pig she’d once seen on the television. She hated the noise, but it was better than The Shouter. He always cried out, using words that sounded mean. She didn’t know what they meant, but he sounded nasty when he shouted them. Then there was The Moaner. She had once tried to peep through the crack in the door because The Moaner sounded as if he was in pain, but she didn’t like what she saw, so she never looked again. It didn’t stop her mind from working though, and every time she heard The Moaner, all she could see in her head was an ugly white bottom, rising and falling.

  The Grunter never lasted long. Her sister was going to have to stop making that sound very soon.

  The pig noises from the room outside the cupboard were much stronger and coming closer together now, and that meant The Grunter had nearly finished - he always got very loud just before the end. She didn’t have much time. She needed to soothe her sister before it was too late. She hated to see her punished. The girl tried to shuffle across the confined space, but the bindings on her wrists and ankles were rubbing on the bruises and sores and she had to stifle a gasp of pain. As she got closer, her sister looked at her through eyes that had the bright shine of unshed tears, and then her little body shook with a huge force.

  The girl realised with horror that her sister was being sick - but the wide brown parcel tape across her mouth was preventing the vomit from escaping. Then she watched as the little girl’s eyes rolled upwards and out of sight leaving only the glossy white showing, and she slumped over against a pile of old, dirty shoes.

  Somebody had to help her sister. The girl knew she was going to be in trouble and that her punishment would hurt, but she didn’t care. She threw herself sideways and rolled onto her back with her legs in the air, kicking out with her bound bare feet against the wooden cupboard door. And she kept kicking. She heard a shout of surprise and a growl of anger from the room beyond, and the door was wrenched open. A man with a huge red face and a fat blue nose leered down into the small opening of the cupboard, his trousers and a pair of dirty white underpants round his ankles.

  Finally, she had met The Grunter.

  1

  Day One: Friday

  Ellie Saunders took a couple of onions out of the vegetable rack, and started to peel them. Cooking always soothed her, and tonight she needed to do something to stop her mind from wandering. Not that chicken liver paté required much concentration; she could probably make it in her sleep. But it was better than staring at the walls and wondering what was happening elsewhere.

  ‘Stop it Ellie,’ she muttered out loud. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ She chopped the onions with more force than was entirely necessary, and ripped off a piece of kitchen roll to wipe her streaming eyes.

  Transferring the chicken livers from their plastic bag to a plate, Ellie jumped as her mobile started to vibrate on the worktop next to her.

  Her breath caught, and her arm froze in mid-air. She knew without looking who it would be. Should she answer? Would it be worse to speak to him, or to ignore him? She did
n’t want to speak to him ever again, but couldn’t predict what he would do if she started to avoid him altogether.

  Snapping out of her momentary paralysis, she wiped her hands nervously on a tea towel and picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello,’ she said softly.

  ‘Why are you crying, Ellie?’

  He was here. Ellie nearly dropped the phone as her eyes flew in panic to the huge bi-folding glass doors that lined one wall of the kitchen, leading out to the side of the house. But the combination of the stormy skies and the brightly lit room made it impossible to see into the murky depths of the garden beyond.

  The voice continued.

  ‘I’m watching you. I love watching you cook. But don’t be sad. It’s going to be okay, I promise you.’

  Ellie’s heart pounded but she tried not to let her voice waver. ‘I’m not crying, and I’m not sad. Where are you? Please - you shouldn’t be here. There’s nothing more to say. I’ve said it all before.’

  There was a sigh of exasperation from the other end of the phone.

  ‘Why don’t you let me in, and we can talk? I’m right here.’

  The voice was quiet and persuasive, but Ellie shivered in fear. She turned her back on the window so that her expression would be hidden from the watcher in the grounds. He mustn’t see that he was getting to her.

  ‘Of course I can’t let you in. Max will be home any minute now. Please don’t do this. Please.’

  A quiet tutting sound told her everything she needed to know, even without him speaking.

  ‘You know he’s not going to be home for a long time yet. He’s at the party - and he’s with her. We both know that. I’ve seen him with her, Ellie. It’s obvious to a blind man how close they are. But I’m here for you, darling. I would never hurt you like he’s doing. So let me in. I just want to touch you and hold you.’ He laughed gently and his voice dropped an octave. ‘What I’d really like to do is lick your silky skin and cover every inch of your body with my lips. You taste delicious, do you know that? The velvety smooth texture of your flesh reminds me of Italian ice-cream. Hazelnut, I think. Cool on the lips, a dark creamy colour, and a slight nutty flavour. Let me in so I can taste you again.’

  ‘No!’

  Ellie slammed the phone down on the worktop, and leaned against her hands, which were the only things stopping her from collapsing. What would she give to be able to crumple to the floor and lie there until this was all over? But he was watching, and she had to stop showing weakness.

  She could hear the tinny echo of his voice through the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. She had to end this, once and for all.

  She picked up the phone again.

  ‘Listen,’ she said, in what she hoped was a firm and decisive tone. ‘I love my husband. What happened between us was nothing - just a mistake. Please, please leave me alone.’

  She was hoping for anger or hurt, but all she got back was more of the soothing tones.

  ‘Come on, Ellie. You know it wasn’t like that. You were so sad, and I made you feel better. I know I did. And I can make you feel better again. Remember what it was like? Remember the burning feeling of our flesh as our bodies touched? What are you scared of? Nobody will know - just you and me.’

  Ellie’s forced calm had dissolved, and terror ripped through her. What if Max finds out? He will never, ever forgive me. But she couldn’t say that, because then she knew she would have lost. She took a breath, and forced her voice into an even tone.

  ‘I’m not scared. I just want this to stop. I’m going to hang up now, and turn my phone off. Then I’m going to close all the blinds so you can’t watch me. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or lead you on. But don’t call again.’

  Ellie disconnected, and very deliberately held her phone up so that if he was watching he would see that she was switching it off. With her head down so she didn’t risk making eye contact with him wherever he was hiding in the dark garden, she strode briskly towards the windows and closed the blinds.

  Immediately, the house phone began to ring. She marched across the kitchen and switched it off. She could still hear it ringing upstairs, so picked up her iPod remote, selected a Coldplay album and set the volume so it was loud enough to be heard in the back garden.

  Her display of bravado was short-lived though, and tears of despair were seeping from the corners of her eyes as she grabbed a handful of garlic and crushed the life out of it with the side of a very sharp knife.

  2

  Indicating left, Leo Harris swung her Audi Cabriolet from the main road onto the high street of Little Melham. Most people thought she was mad having a soft top and living in Manchester, but tonight the Cheshire air was warm and muggy and it was great to have the roof down. The drive from her home had only taken about half an hour, and once out of the city traffic and into the countryside the wind in her hair felt good after the stuffy heat of town. Rain was threatening again though, and the dark sky belied the fact that it was a summer evening. It had been stormy off and on all day, and it suited her mood. The odd flash of distant lightning against a black and turbulent sky was almost a mirror of her emotions.

  As she drove slowly through the village she looked at the pretty shop fronts, noticing the new wine bar with its aluminium tables and chairs outside on the wide pavement, a line of huge planters separating customers from pedestrians. There was even a trendy looking restaurant squashed between the greengrocer’s and the baker’s, and she glimpsed high backed dark red chairs and white tablecloths through the soft light in the window.

  A perfect place to live.

  Smiling at the irony of her thoughts, she turned off the main street and down the lane towards the house.

  As she saw the open gates ahead, her foot jerked off the accelerator. An automatic reflex. Fighting the compulsion to turn the car around and go home, her foot found its way back to the pedal, and the car moved steadily forward. She hoped that the driver of a lone car parked in the lay-by down the lane hadn’t noticed this strange behaviour. She turned into the bottom of the drive and stopped.

  A chilling thought struck her. The first time she had arrived here by car had been twenty-two years ago. She had been with her father, and they had stopped in almost this exact position. She remembered feeling as if she’d been crying for days, but it had only been a few hours. Her father had tried to talk to her but she had refused to acknowledge what he was saying, and in the end he’d left her out here in the car while he went into the house alone.

  She remembered that her weeping had finally subsided into occasional hiccupping sobs. That was when she’d heard the scream. She had never heard anything like it in her young life, but it sounded as if somebody’s soul was being ripped from their body. It went on and on.

  Leo closed her eyes as the memory stabbed at her gut.

  Seven years later she had walked down this drive for the very last time without a backward glance, shunning both the house and everybody in it. For a while that had even included Ellie, but her sister had refused to give up on her and for that - and so much more - Leo owed her. She had never imagined for a minute that after all this time she would be back here, sitting in this exact spot, trying to find the courage to walk through the front door. She’d put the visit off for so long, but tonight, driven by a strange and compelling impulse, she had thrown some clothes into a bag, grabbed her car keys, and set off, not knowing whether she would make it to her final destination or not. Just the thought of Ellie’s inevitable astonishment and relief when she opened the door was enough to spur Leo on.

  The one good bit of news was that the house was impossible to recognise from the horrors of the early years of her life. Clever concealed lighting provided subtle illumination in the gardens, which were a picture with open lawns and wide beds filled with roses; a far cry from the neglected and unloved garden of her childhood. The cracked tarmac had been lifted and the drive re-laid with old cobbles, and the window frames were painted a pale cream that sat beautifully against t
he old red brick. But the biggest change of all was an impressive new atrium, linking the long low house to the adjoining barn. Flooded with light to compensate for the dark and gloomy clouds, it looked warm and inviting even to Leo.

  She leaned back heavily against the headrest. She couldn’t just sit here, though. She had to get a grip of herself.

  She flicked the switch to operate the electric roof. Even if she failed to make it through the front door and had to beat a hasty retreat, rain wasn’t far away. And anyway, it wasted a few more moments.

  With the roof firmly in place, she completed the journey up the drive and parked in front of the house. Acting more decisively than she felt, she swung her legs out of the car, grabbed her bag from the back seat and walked determinedly to the front door to ring the bell. She didn’t have long to wait.

  ‘Leo! God, Leo! What a fantastic surprise. I was beginning to think we would never see you again.’

  Leo looked at Ellie, and knew that her decision to come had been the right one. Ellie’s long chocolate brown hair framed her oval face and fell in waves to her shoulders. Her brown eyes were shining, but not with the pleasure that Leo had been expecting. The remnants of tears hung in slightly red-rimmed eyes, and although her wide and generous mouth was smiling, it was clear to Leo that this was an effort. Usually her smile could light up a room.

  ‘Come in, come in - it’s so great to see you. Welcome to the transformed Willow Farm.’

  This was the moment Leo had been dreading. She had expected her senses to be bombarded as she stepped over the threshold, but was amazed that - for the moment - she felt nothing. No racing pulse, and none of the once familiar unease.

  And then she got it. The house didn’t smell the same. Gone were the musty odours of neglect, and the sense that the house was short of air. A cool breeze was blowing through an open window, carrying the light perfume of roses. She looked at her sister, and waited for Ellie’s usual hundred watt smile. But it didn’t come.

  Leo picked her small suitcase up to avoid the inevitable sisterly hug and leaned forward to peck Ellie on the cheek.

  ‘Oh, before I forget. I found this on the step,’ Leo said, holding out a yellow rose.