The Back Road

by Abbott, Rachel

  The door slammed hard behind her.

  * * *

  Leo decided to keep out of Ellie’s way for the rest of the morning. There was no point trying to persuade her sister that she had misunderstood everything when she was in this mood, and she would have to bide her time. But she wondered if Max was aware of the depth of Ellie’s suspicions. The trouble was, suspicion was endemic in this village at the moment, with Abbie’s accident sitting right at the heart of it. If only the driver of that car could be identified, the rest of the confusion might unravel.

  She sat on the bed, leaning back against her outstretched arms. She might be completely helpless when it came to solving a hit and run accident, but maybe there was something she could do to reduce the tension in this house.

  Her natural instinct was to ask Max what this business with Alannah was all about, but Ellie would be furious if she interfered. Ellie and Max had always been so perfectly in tune with each other, and to see them like this was distressing enough for Leo, so goodness knows how it felt for her sister, who was as taut as a violin string – one extra turn of the peg and she would snap. Max wasn’t much better. He was trying to hide it, but his subtle sarcasm on Saturday morning and his obvious discomfort after the police visit the day before were both completely out of character for the normally relaxed and cheerful Max.

  Maybe her thoughts about the malignancy of this house hadn’t been as whimsical as they’d seemed. Max hadn’t wanted to move here. Of that Leo was certain. He’d gone along with it for Ellie’s sake, which all came down to this ridiculous fixation of hers. Perhaps that was part of the problem, and if Leo could persuade Ellie that any reunion with their father was a pipe dream it would be one less thing for her to worry about, because Leo was confident that even if he came waltzing through the front door tomorrow, their father would be guaranteed to disappoint.

  Fundamentally, Ellie’s problem was that she didn’t know what had happened to him. Had he actually walked away from them and forgotten about their existence? Did he not even care enough to say goodbye? Or was he taken ill? Ellie couldn’t bring herself to believe that her dad could just march out of her life without a backward glance. Leo, on the other hand, found it entirely credible.

  And what of The Old Witch? What had she known about it? Something. Of that, Leo was sure.

  She tried to drag memories of him from where they were stashed deep inside her subconscious, but practically nothing would come. He had been a shadowy figure in her life who had not only lied continually to her trusting mother, but who had practically ignored Leo once she had come to live here.

  It was different for Ellie, though. She had only seen one aspect of him - the person who was married to her dreadful mother - and she had loved him. He may have been indifferent, but he wasn’t unkind to Ellie. Leo, on the other hand, had gone from being the much loved child of her mother to a young girl who was either hated or ignored by the people who were bringing her up.

  Leo lay back on the bed and put her hands behind her head, trying to get a picture of the man. She decided to focus on her mother and some of her memories of their time together, in the hope that he would miraculously appear in the scene.

  She was in their sitting room - a small room with a dark red two seater sofa and an armchair. They hadn’t had much money - and now she knew why. It was all coming here, of course - to Willow Farm and her father’s other family. From their sitting room, a door led off into the kitchen, and she could hear her mother singing. She was always singing. Today it was ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’. Who was it by? Rick Astley - that was it. Leo was trying to dance to it, and her mum came in and grabbed her hands so they could both dance together. Her mum was wearing jeans, and an Indian smock top - all bright colours and beads, with her long, almost black hair tied back in a pony tail. She was so young.

  Then the door opened, and he was there - laughing at them both. She could see him now, and could appreciate how handsome he’d been. He had a sort of Caesar style of haircut - very short. But he had a full head of dark brown hair and vivid blue eyes. He was quite tall too - or perhaps he had just seemed it to her. She was probably only about eight at the time.

  The image faded, and Leo realised that her face was wet with fat teardrops. Pathetic. She sat up and brushed the tears away. Maybe she should focus on the years between then and when she left home. That would really give her something to cry about.

  She grabbed her laptop and pulled it towards her. What did she know about him? She’d kept a note of every bit of information - which wasn’t much. She opened the file, and started to read.

  Full Name : Edward William Harris

  Date of Birth : 02/12/1943

  Place of Birth : Stoke on Trent, England

  Events :

  1976 - Married Denise Swindon (4th March)

  1978 - Daughter Eleanor born (29th September)

  1980 - Married (bigamous) Sandra Collier (8th June)

  1980 - Daughter Leonora Sandra (24th October)

  1979 − 1995 - Director, Goodman Pottery Limited, Stoke on Trent

  Last known address - Willow Farm, Little Melham, Cheshire.

  Last seen - July 1995?

  Conversation overheard (memory!!!) : womaniser, been rejected, ‘she’s gone now’, get out. Overheard some time in summer of the year he went missing.

  2002 - Denise Harris (née Swindon) tells daughter Ellie that she had her husband declared dead after he had been missing for seven years.

  It wasn’t much.

  The crucial fact was that Ellie’s mother said she’d had him declared dead. She told Ellie that she made the declaration in 2002. Armed with these meagre facts, Leo had scoured the records for the year in question. She had searched one year either side too - just to be sure. But there was no death certificate for Edward William Harris within that period. Did that mean The Old Witch had been lying? It would come as no surprise to Leo, but it didn’t help either. Her father had disappeared without a trace.

  The money had come from somewhere, though. He must either have given Ellie’s mother everything when he left, or she had acquired the lot after his death. Leo was no closer to understanding it all.

  For a long time, she and Ellie had assumed their father had gone away on one of his usual trips. They often didn’t see him for days or even weeks at a time and Leo had paid scant attention, wearing her indifference like armour. She couldn’t remember exactly when they had realised that this time he wasn’t ever going to come back, but it was December when her father’s name was mentioned for the last time. He had already been gone for months, and Ellie had asked her mother if he was going to be back for Christmas.

  ‘I doubt it.’

  That was all she had said. Not a word of comfort to a sobbing Ellie. But looking back on that day, Leo couldn’t help getting the impression that The Old Witch actually knew he wouldn’t be back. She must have known something. Ellie was forbidden to ask about him again, but she had never let it go. It was as if Ellie would never be whole until the secrets of the past were exposed.

  Leo knew that this was getting her nowhere. She didn’t have any answers. She needed a distraction, so she opened a new window on her computer screen, and started to type.

  A Single Step : the blog of Leo Harris

  Living in the present

  How easy it is to blame the present on the past, and allow history to shape the future. How many of us justify our current behaviour by reference to events long gone?

  Is this true within your relationship? Are you allowing past mistakes to dictate your destiny?

  If pain has been inflicted by a loved one, you may search for reasons and explanations that simply can’t be found. You pick away at the scar that is trying to heal, and cause the blood to flow again. You seek reassurances that you may never truly believe. The scar becomes ragged and ugly to all who can see it, and you become the walking wounded, waiting to be hurt again.

  Accept that your history has changed you. Rejoice in your surv
ival. Let the wounds heal to form a stronger, more resilient you, and remember that forgiveness is not something we do for other people - we do it for ourselves. So forgive yourself for being a victim.

  Look positively to the here and now. Put the past behind you and think of it as somewhere you once visited, and possibly didn’t like very much.

  “Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” Buddha

  27

  In my dream I’m running. It’s dark, and I’m scared. No, it’s worse than that. I’m terrified. I can feel the pressure of fear on my chest and in my throat, but I don’t know what I’m scared of.

  Then I hear it.

  ‘Abbie, Abbie.’ It’s a loud, hoarse whisper, cutting through the still night. I can hear panic in the voice.

  Then I hear another voice saying my name.

  ‘You’re a retard, Abbie Campbell. I don’t know why I invited you.’

  It’s not dark now. And the voice is nasty.

  How did I get here?

  I’m in town. I’m on my own, hiding round a corner. I’m waiting, and watching the burger place to see who arrives. I don’t want to be first. I don’t want to look like a saddo. But I don’t want to be last, because if they’re all there they’ll stare when I walk in. I shouldn’t be nervous - it’s only a party. Everybody else does this all the time, right?

  I nearly said no - I didn’t want to come. But mum was pleased I’d been asked, so I pretended to be excited. I think Emily’s mum must have said I had to be invited, because I’m sure it wasn’t Emily’s idea.

  Just wait until next term. Chloe will be here then, and Emily might think I’m weird, but Chloe doesn’t. She’s my best friend.

  At last some of the others are arriving. Four of them. Perfect. I come out from my hiding place round the side of the post office and arrive at the door just as they go in. They turn and smile. These are the friendly ones - not the sneery ones that hang around Emily all the time.

  It’s later now. We’ve all got our burgers, and Emily’s showing off, just like she always does. Some boys from year ten have come in, and Emily’s being loud and silly. One of the boys winks at me, and I smile back. I know him. His mum’s friends with mine - it’s not like we fancy each other or anything.

  I need to go to the loo, but when I come out of the cubicle, they’re waiting for me. Emily and her crew.

  They lay into me. Apparently it’s supposed to be Emily’s night, and I’m ruining it. It seems I smiled at the wrong boy. They call me a skank and a retard, and say I’m not welcome anymore.

  I want to cry, but I’m not going to. I bite my lip and say nothing, but I can feel my face getting hotter and hotter. I grab my bag and push past them, out into the street.

  Now what? I suppose I’d better call my mum, but I’m dreading it. She always looks guilty when I screw things up - as if she thinks it’s her fault that I’m a loser.

  I grab my phone out of my bag. One thing I’m definitely going to do is to let the world know what Emily’s really like. I open Facebook. I tell everybody - well, a few people anyway - that Emily’s a pig and I’m going home.

  I’m surprised to get a message straight back. I smile when I see it’s from Chloe. I wish she was here.

  But that’s what she’s saying! They’ve moved in sooner than expected - and she’s here! Now!

  She’s going to come with her mum to pick me up. I’ve got to wait round the back of the burger place and to look out for her mum’s car. And it’s a secret. I’m not to tell anyone.

  I can’t wait to see her. And I won’t call mum. It’ll save her some grief.

  I’m happy now. I’m going to see Chloe, and I’m so excited. All I have to do is wait for her and her mum. The other girls are leaving now - going to the cinema. Some of them can’t look at me, but I don’t care anymore.

  I’ve got Chloe.

  28

  ‘Go and get in the car, girls. Your mum’s car. I’m going to go to say goodbye and then we’ll be off. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Gary Bateman headed towards the house as his two daughters trudged despondently towards Penny’s car. He knew they didn’t want to go to his mother’s for a week, but he hadn’t got any choice, thanks to Penny. He could bloody kill her.

  He walked through the open front door, glancing in the mirror as he went. Looking good, he thought, baring his ultra white teeth and thinking what a brilliant job the dentist had done. He was too good for Penny, that was for sure. He stomped up the stairs, calling his wife’s name.

  ‘Penny, I’m off.’ He opened the bedroom door, and couldn’t fail to hear the muffled sobs coming from the bed where Penny’s face was buried in a pillow.

  ‘Oh for Christ’s sake, woman, get a fucking grip will you. If you weren’t so pathetic, I wouldn’t have had to sort you out. Now I’ve got to take the girls to my mother’s so they don’t see your miserable face. Why do you have to be so moronic? Hmm?’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ Penny whined. God she irritated him when she used that tone of voice.

  ‘I didn’t do anything?’ he mimicked. ‘You only said that you were going to talk to sodding Leo Harris and tell her all about our lives. Are you surprised that I got mad? Huh? It’s not fucking rocket science, is it? Have you read the stuff she writes on her blog? Somebody needs to sort the silly bitch out, but there’s no way you’re talking to her. I hope you’ve got that.’

  He advanced on the bed and grabbed a handful of Penny’s hair to drag her face out of the pillows. At the look of fear in her face, he gave a grunt of disgust, and abruptly let go.

  ‘You don’t tell her anything. Are you listening? Now stop snivelling, get yourself up and dressed, and I’ll see you later. I’m dropping the girls off and coming straight home for the Porsche. I’ve got to take it back today - it was supposed to be a three day loan, but I’ve already had it for four. Something else to worry about, as if I haven’t got enough.’

  He stood looking down at his wife, clenched fists hanging at his side. He was sick of her, if truth be told. Three women in the house was at least two too many. Three, if the third one was Penny.

  ‘Remember what I said, Penny. If that bloody Leo comes spooking round… ‘

  ‘Hello? You there, Gary?’ The shout was coming from the hallway below. Bugger. He shouldn’t have left the front door open. He hoped he hadn’t been heard. He gave Penny a last furious glance, and headed out onto the landing, plastering a smile on his face.

  ‘Sean! What brings you here this morning? Got something for me, have you?’

  Gary made his way downstairs to where Sean was standing.

  ‘Penny okay, is she? I saw the girls in the car, and they said she’s not been too good.’

  Gary indicated that they should move outside to talk, out of Penny’s earshot.

  ‘She’s a bit under the weather. Women’s problems, you know how they get. Anyway, I’m taking the girls to my mother’s. Told them she’s got something infectious.’ Gary sneered. ‘You’d think it was terminal, they way they bloody go on, wouldn’t you. What about you?’

  Sean’s expression was bleak for a few seconds, in complete contrast to his usual twinkling smile - the one the women in the village drooled over.

  ‘Ah, you know how it is. Life’s not great at home. If I had the money, I’d start again. Me and the kids, you know.’

  ‘I keep trying to convince Penny of that. Except in her case, she could keep the kids.’ Gary laughed. ‘Anyway, you can’t become single because part of your attraction to the female population of the village is the fact that you appear as some kind of hero in their eyes. You get the sympathy vote as well as points for the rugged charm, so I’m reliably informed.’

  ‘Penny say that, did she?’ Sean asked.

  ‘Penny? You must be joking. Penny doesn’t recognise anybody’s charms but mine, buddy. I wish she would. Let me off the hook a bit, if you know what I mean.

  Gary glanced around
him, to make sure that nobody was around.

  ‘Anyway, enough of the idle chit chat - how are we doing with the deal? I could do with the cash, because then I might not have to take this baby back.’ He patted the Porsche on its bonnet. ‘With a bit of luck and a following wind, I’ll be buying one just like it in a month or two.’

  ‘The deal’s going to plan. The money’s been transferred to me, but it’s not cleared yet. Hopefully tomorrow. That’s what I came to tell you. I’ve spoken to the bank, and I can go in for the cash. I had to be interrogated for about an hour, mind you, before they agreed to release it. Anyway, I said I needed it for materials, and they were okay with that in the end. I’ll drop it round tomorrow, unless you want to meet somewhere else?’

  Gary paused for a moment. It might be better to meet away from the house.

  ‘I’ll give you a call on that one. When’s it all going to be made public then? When’s your private investor going to make himself known?’

  ‘Saturday’s the plan. He was getting cold feet, but I worked on him and got things pushed through quickly. He’s around all week, though, so he can sign the papers and stuff on Friday or Saturday and then we’re off. Technically the money’s not ours until the paperwork’s complete, but there’s only a day or two in it, so as long as you don’t spend it we should be fine.’

  Gary leaned back against the car with his feet crossed and his arms folded.

  ‘I’m not that stupid, Sean. Penny might be too dense to notice if I bought some nice gear, but good stuff stands out a mile. It’s going in my escape fund, if you know what I mean.’

  Gary stood up and glanced over at the girls.

  ‘I’d better be going, I suppose. They’ve been sat there a while, and they were po-faced enough about going to my mother’s as it was.’