She was relieved it was empty. A huge advantage to being inside was the inclusion of music, easily loud enough to block out any noise from outside. A flat screen television on the wall next to the bar displayed in silence some sport that didn’t interest Carys at all. Her tom-boyishness was restricted to loving being outdoors, not to a love of boyish things.
Walking up to the deserted bar, she considered calling for service when a young barman appeared from a door behind the bar. He looked approvingly at Carys.
“Be with you in a minute,” he announced as he disappeared briefly, evidently to wash his hands, as he returned still wiping them with a green Greene King IPA towel. He placed the towel down near the till in an untidy heap and spoke again.
“What’ll you have?” he smiled pleasantly.
Carys didn’t drink often, but enough to have built up a repertoire of favourites. She also knew that the consumption of quite large quantities of alcohol left her unaffected, and she wanted a more immediate effect to quell her growing apprehension.
“Do you do any cocktails?” she enquired. The barman shook his head.
“Not officially,” he said. Turning away, he returned plonking a cocktail shaker on the bar. “But I know a few of my own.”
He rattled off his repertoire, and Carys opted for whichever sounded the most pungent. But despite her best efforts, she was still startlingly sober by the time Stephen walked in.
He wasn’t alone. A number of girls Carys recognised from sixth form gathered around like a VIP entourage. Spotting Carys instantly, he broke free and bounded over.
Leaning in to hug her, it was perfectly clear he was there to meet her. An awkward moment followed as the pair went to the wrong side of one another to kiss cheeks. Stephen laughed it off effortlessly and offered her another drink, which she accepted happily.
The gaggle of girls made their way to join them and were included in the round. Carys gave them a big friendly grin. She wasn’t sure if they were being as rude as they appeared when they completely ignored her gesture.
As was Carys’s norm, she assumed the worst from her counterparts. They did seem to be persisting in their want for causing her distress, she thought. She didn’t fancy Stephen, but it was painfully obvious the other girls did.
She believed, for the first time, her mother’s assertion they were jealous, and understood why these girls were being horrible to her. She didn’t care so much anymore. A wry smile creased her pretty face in amusement as she downed her drink.
She would damn well drink everything Stephen bought for her. If only she could feel drunk, she could genuinely not care and thoroughly enjoy herself.
Stephen drank only soft drinks, Carys noticed. He explained how he’d driven here so wouldn’t be drinking.
“Aw, that’s a shame. You can’t celebrate your brilliant results properly,” Carys sympathised with an exaggerated frown.
“Don’t worry,” Stephen replied with a knowing smile on his face, the meaning of which, Carys, either through mild inebriation or more likely, complete lack of experience with boys, was completely oblivious to. “I’m sure I’ll have a great time.” The smile was welded to his face as he waited for confirmation of his intentions. “Another drink?” he generously offered.
Carys nodded her consent. She couldn’t remember quite how many she’d consumed, but it was not inconsiderable, she was sure. She realised that apart from the drink she bought on arrival, her hand had remained strictly out of her pocket.
“Let me pay for these,” she offered, not wanting to appear greedy. Stephen ignored her and continued paying.
“It’s too late now,” he insisted. “You can buy the next round.”
Carys was enjoying herself. She wasn’t drunk. Definitely not drunk. But she had to admit to feeling a little... uninhibited. Things she’d normally avoid mentioning at all costs, she had a sudden burning desire to broach.
“Did you hear that strange noise when you came in? Before you came in,” she corrected. Stephen and the two girls frowned blankly back at her.
“A humming noise. A bit like a low diesel hum, or a helicopter.” she explained. The blank faces continued and were joined by expressions of disinterest.
“The noise doesn’t come from anywhere, or go anywhere. It’s just... there.”
The two girls sniggered and turned away from her, starting their own whispered conversation. Stephen made attempts to humour her, having already exchanged derisive glances with the girls.
“I didn’t hear anything,” he shrugged. Turning away, he rolled his eyes.
Carys was cross. And for once, a little inebriated. Having been denied talking about this for years, she didn’t care that she might appear foolish. She wouldn’t see these people again after her move to Wales anyway. With a dogged determination, she carried on.
“There is a noise, whether you heard it or not. And you two…” She directed her comment directly at the two girls, “Are very rude!” They snapped to attention, surprising Carys who’d expected them to continue ignoring her.
“I’ve heard it before. I know what it is.”
‘Why are you telling them this?’ the voice in her head demanded. ‘You can’t be certain of anything. It was just a dream.’ But she couldn’t stop now. The floodgates which she’d kept firmly shut since childhood had breached, and now, she was determined to be listened to.
“When I was five, or six, Alien creatures came into my room and did things to me, horrible things. In their spaceship, well, I presume it was a spaceship,” she pursed her lips in thought. “They were all around me, saying things I couldn’t understand, and touching me.” A shudder prevented her from describing them, but she didn’t want to stop. Letting it out after so long felt good.
Eyes wide, like a celebrity performing absently down a camera lens on Jackanory, she was oblivious to her audiences scorn. “I could see all their machines, and the bright lights and everything. It was so real. It definitely happened,” she announced.
The girls snorted in unison. Carys babbled on further, filling in details. When they could contain their amusement no longer and exploded into drink spraying guffaws, Carys couldn’t help herself. “Fuck off!” she shrieked.
Carys’s outburst caused more mirth as the pair huddled in cliquey cahoots. Turning sharply away, she strode purposefully toward the door. She’d reached it and had it open a crack when she heard one of the girls squawk, evidently to Stephen.
“Just leave her. She’s crazy!”
Carys couldn’t bear to hear more. She stomped from the pub ready to walk home. Stella might be surprised to see her back so soon, but the hot glow of embarrassment was from disappointment in her own lack of social graces.
Why did she have to blurt out her stupid alien abduction stories? And ignoring those bitches would have been better than her humiliating outburst. She’d definitely burnt her bridges. But she could learn. “When I get to Wales, I’ll keep my mouth shut!”
Tapping her pursed lips with an elegant index finger, she decided wandering round the town before going home could kill some time. Anticipation of Stella’s probing was too much (and she didn’t know about her exam results yet.) Maybe she’d get something to eat.
Looking up at the clock above the indoor market, she was surprised to see it was after ten and immediately felt less disappointed and happier with her plan. When her thoughts calmed from her social faux pas, the hideous humming noise filled her head again; so loud, how had she been able to ignore it, even for a second?
As she stood and pondered, a car pulled up beside her. An electric window whirred down and Stephen popped his head out. Struggling to focus, she realised for the first time that she was feeling rather unwell.
Staggering forward, she steadied herself by leaning against the car. Through a foggy giddiness she shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of the shame of mishandling her drink.
“Sorry about those two,” Stephen offered, excluding himself from the insults. He noticed Carys’s
wobbling. “You alright?” he asked quizzically. Carys didn’t quite know how to respond.
She'd never felt like this before. She’d been drunk in the past, of course (after a lot of alcohol), but it hadn’t been like this. Woozy. Groggy. Distant, almost. And drowsy. Not herself at all.
Struggling, she peered up at the sky in a slow laboured manoeuvre, before exaggeratedly looked back at Stephen. “Do you hear that?” she slurred. “That’s the bloody humming noise I was talking about.”
“I’m sure it’s just machinery,” Stephen assured “There’s a lot of farms around here,” he suggested sensibly.
“I give up!” Carys scowled (it was more of a smoulder in her befuddled state), hoping desperately that Stephen was right. She knew he wasn’t.
“Hop in the car,” he offered with a sideways nod. “I’ll give you a lift.”
Warning bells sounded in Carys’s brain but went unheeded. Between the humming noise and its associated anxiety, and the fug in her head, she was in no position to make clear decisions.
A lift home probably was a good idea, she considered. Despite a certainty the house was close by, she couldn’t quite remember in which direction. Peering one way, and then the other, gave her no clue where to head to begin her journey.
She struggled with Stephens’s car door and flopped into the passenger seat. “Thank...you,” she rasped from dry lips.
After setting off, it took Carys a while to notice they were travelling out of town; leaving Royston and heading into the countryside; and then a while longer to work out why this might be. Of course, Stephen didn’t know where she lived.
He probably thinks I still live at ‘Nutters.’ That he’d have no reason to know where she lived, and that he’d certainly never been to ‘Nutters,’ didn’t rear any warning.
“I don’t live in Nuthampstead anymore,” she instructed. “My parents have moved back to Wales and I’m living with a family friend for a while.”
Stephen smiled in understanding. “Don’t worry. All will be revealed.” He tapped the side of his nose with his extended index finger. Carys smiled and shook her head, clueless. The car rolled onward. The journey making no sense to the passenger gazing at the darkness flashing by outside her window.
“You are a very beautiful girl, Carys Ellis.” Stephen informed her.
“Thank you,” she blushed, genuinely pleased.
After bumping over the country lanes and swerving round bend after bend, Stephen turned in abruptly and pulled the nose of the car into the gateway of a field. He nudged the car forward until it brushed the rusting bars of the gate, causing it to fly open.
He tapped the accelerator with deft care, jolting the wheels over the muddy entrance in perfect time to accommodate the swing back of the gate as it creaked on its hinges.
Carys’s muzzy mind marvelled at the precision she witnessed in her door mirror as it rocked back at just enough speed to end up where it had started moments before. That is, moments before she found herself in a field, in a car, alone with a boy who was looking at her peculiarly.
He edged close to her and reached a clumsy hand towards her right breast. She reeled at the touch, the horror of it waking her from her lethargy.
“What are you doing?!” she demanded.
“Don’t act all innocent,” Stephen scathed, moving to grope her again. She lashed out instinctively. Stephen seized her wrists.
“You little bitch!” he exclaimed. “You happily drank my money for hours, and now you won’t put out? Is that your game, is it?!” He manoeuvred her wrists into the vice grip of his left hand and raised his right ready to hit her.
Carys trembled. She was strong, at least a boy’s equal, but he was so much stronger. If he struck her it would hurt. But she couldn’t not struggle. Her instincts forced her, even though in her mind she’d resolved that compliance was safer. He was sure to have his way, why get hurt as well? She couldn’t stop herself.
Fight as she did, she was no match, and Stephen had her utterly immobilised. His knee prevented her legs from moving whilst her wrists remained in his iron clench.
“Get off me!” she screamed at him. And then she thought to add, softer, “Please”.
“Oh no you don’t!” he spat. “Keep still you fucking bitch! You fucking owe me!”
His free hand didn’t hit her. He had her well within his control. Instead, he used it for something else. Carys’s eyes widened in disbelief at the realisation.
Straining a little at first with the buttons of his fly, one handed, soon though, he was free and pumping vigorously up and down his shaft. Carys let out a huge sob; the sound of it lost in the guttural grunts and moans of the grotesque act being perpetrated upon her.
Suddenly, from nowhere, an incredible bright light lit the sky, scorching the field in its white glow.
“Shit!” Stephen howled.
Carys was surprised at his apparent fear. He must think he’s been caught trespassing by a farmer. But Carys knew. She had seen the light before.
In response to his imminent capture, Stephen tugged more hastily at his throbbing member. Carys had never seen one before, but lessons in school meant she knew what to expect. But she never saw it. Her drowsiness hadn’t been from plain alcohol, had it? Now, too late, she understood. Stephen had drugged her.
Evidently the effects were overwhelming as she could maintain her consciousness no more. Her last thoughts, before giving into oblivion, were of how she was powerless to Stephens desires now. That, and the strange figures she saw surrounding the car in the burning blue and white light.
Chapter Twelve
The Suspect
Carys awoke in her bed with no recollection of getting there. Hazy memories of being in Stephen’s car refused to sharpen their focus. But then, with a rush that made her retch, came the awful image of Stephen, (Ugh! She could barely utter the name) manhandling himself, forcing her wrists. It was almost not a memory; more a production in her mind. Whatever drugs he’d given her were doing a good job of blurring the lines.
Squinting up into the middle distance, cajoling her brain’s neurotransmitters into action, she wasn’t sure why. Wouldn’t it be better if she couldn’t remember? The rage at the impertinence, the abuse; that’s what was fuelling her curiosity now.
A sudden flash. There had been an interruption, and yes, the humming noise. With a sigh of resignation, she eased herself from the safety of her duvet and padded to the window. Yanking back the curtains, she was surprised to see it still dark.
With the sash pushed open, it was clear; the humming had stopped. Carys exhaled slowly, freeing tension with the releasing breath. Shaking her head, she tutted at seeing she still wore her new outfit. She grabbed a nightie from the floor and fumbled her clothes off.
Fatigue set in fiercely again. With her appropriate attire making bed more inviting, she lay down again. Images of Stephen loomed at her closed eyelids. As she threw her head from side to side in her struggle to be free of them, Stella’s well-plumped eider-down pillow slowed her movements until she relaxed into a deep sleep.
Stella knocked on the door. Receiving no answer, she entered anyway, carrying a steaming cup of tea. Her eyes fell to the sleeping Carys with a fond twinkle. The night out must have been a success. She hadn’t heard her come in. It must have been late. She’d gone to bed herself after midnight and read for a while before going to sleep.
Pleasure in Carys’s enjoyment was short lived. As she placed the cup onto the bedside table, her fingers hadn’t left the handle when Carys jumped awake causing Stella to spill a little of the tea.
“Oh hello, dear. Did you have a lovely time last night, sweetie?” Carys threw her arms around her waist and burst into tears. Through the sobs, Stella just made out Carys’s mumblings.
“It was awful. The girls were mean, and when Steph... (she couldn’t bear to say it) gave me a lift home...” she frowned. “I don’t know why I even needed a lift. It was only The Green Man! Oh yes, I was feeling really groggy, I remem
ber. I think he drugged me… and anyway, we ended up in this field and...” the sobs became too loud to discern more but Stella had already guessed how it concluded.
She stroked Carys’s hair as the tears and wails abounded. When they abated a little, she pulled away to look her in the eye. “We don’t have to let him get away with this.” Carys blinked. She had said ‘we’. Her support brought more sniffs.
“No, no,” she croaked. “I don’t think he even did anything in the end. Not really. We were... he was,” she amended, “interrupted.”
“Just because he didn’t get his way, doesn’t mean he should get away with it. He would have raped you. And he obviously scared you. What would your father say?”
Carys knew. He’d want to throw the full weight of the law at Stephen; if he could refrain from killing him.
“Okay,” she agreed. To protect other girls from this predatory bastard, she could be brave. A couple more weeks should see her move to South Wales. She could definitely be brave until then.
Stella telephoned Geraint and told him of Carys’s troubles. It took a lot of Stella’s calm persuasion to prevent him jumping straight in the car to show this boy what would happen to him, touching his daughter. But he agreed to leave it until his day off tomorrow. Today, he’d make a phone call to colleagues in Royston and prepare them for taking his daughters statement.
The stairs creaking at Carys’s step caught Stella’s attention as she was about to hang up. She held the receiver out to Carys who shook her head. Stella smiled with half-moon eyes and returned her attention to Geraint. He swore to be there first thing, with her mother. They’d take care of her and bring her back to Wales.
Carys spent the day occupying her troubled brain, slumped on the sofa. Scowling at a black and white film, its un-taxing images and tuneful music gradually un-knitted her brow and she began to unwind.
The HUM: The complete novel Page 9