Touching the Dark

by Jane A. Adams

  “Well, thank you for your cooperation, Miss Palmer,” Alec said with as much dignity as he could muster. “I’ll be in touch again.”

  “I advise you not to harass my client,” Jacques told him frostily.

  Alec’s look was innocent. Injured. “Surely, Mr Jacques, should we find Mr Chalmers, injured, lying in a field somewhere after the accident he was not involved in with the car he didn’t steal, it would be only fair to let Miss Palmer know. I mean, she seems to have as much difficulty as we do, in tracking Jack down.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Mid-afternoon saw Alec still at work. He had gained his second wind by about ten in the morning but that was long passed and he was set to take Dick’s advice and go off home. A phone call from the forensic lab delayed him. The blood found at the scene was group B, conveniently eliminating around 85% of the population. By daylight more blood traces had been found, at the side of the road and on the verge where the driver had forced his way through the hedge and into the adjoining field. Whoever had been driving, however badly injured, there had been no relevant reports of dark haired young men stumbling into casualty wanting to be stitched up.

  He thought again about Tally Palmer wondering what train of thought he had set in motion that morning and the conversation he’d had with the DCI about the possibility of DNA.

  At home in her flat Tally had a restless day. Not wanting to be still but not able to endure the thought of going out into the world. She felt exposed, flayed and anxious. What did he know, this Detective Friedman who probed and poked into her life, prising his way beneath her defences in a way that reminded her so strongly of both Simon and of Jack? Why could none of them just leave her be? Did he know about Miles?

  Tally shook her head. How could he? How could he know anything?

  *

  That night, that night with Miles, Tally had been in bed by the time Jack returned. It was close to midnight and Tally was finally drifting off to sleep. He appeared in the shadows, moving to the side of her bed, his weight as he sat beside her waking her from her doze.

  She turned over and reached for his hand.

  “Did mum see you come in?” he asked

  She shook her head. “She was watching TV, I just shouted that I was home and that I had to dash to the loo. Then I had a shower and everything and got into bed. She bought me a cup of tea later on but I pretended to be asleep.”

  Jack nodded, an indistinct movement in the darkness. She peered at him, then lifted herself on one elbow to see more closely.

  “Jack?” She reached out for the bedside lamp and flicked it on, then gasped and covered her mouth with her hand to stop herself from crying out. The past months had seen many changes in Jack’s appearance but for the most part they had been small and subtle, almost imperceptible until taken as a whole. This time though, the alteration had been almost beyond recognition. He was taller and heavier with a muscularity that he had never owned before and a look of maturity that made Tally feel young and small. His eyes were still blue and his skin still had the pallor and the tracing of freckles that it always had but the hair was darker with a hint of red, waving gently onto his collar.

  “Jack? What?”

  He silenced her and then took both her hands in his, stroking the fingers gently. “Listen to me Tally and listen hard. “You were never there tonight. You knew Miles only as someone at school that everybody fancied. You had nothing to do with him and you never spent time with him outside of school. Have you got that?”

  Tally gaped at him, then she nodded.

  “And if anyone wants to know where you were tonight, you were home with mum. You came up here early to get your homework done and before that you watched the television with her. It’s that soap opera thing she likes so you can catch the reruns tomorrow.”

  “But mum knows I wasn’t here. And who’s going to ask, Jack?” She stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. “Is he dead? Is that what you’re telling me. Is that how...?”

  She gazed at this transformed Jack not wanting the answers to any of the questions she was asking. Jack leaned forward and kissed her.

  “Just remember,” he said. “You were here all night.”

  *

  The disappearance of Miles Burrows occupied the collective mind for weeks until the summer break finally separated Tally from her classmates and she could breathe more easily. She had been questioned, of course, as had all of the school. One of Miles’s friends had mentioned that he fancied Tally but no one suggested that anything had been done by either side. The girlfriend had been absent for a fortnight, apparently distraught and the sight of her, red eyed and clearly distressed when she returned to school was enough to have Tally on the verge of confessing many times.

  But then, she thought, what was there to confess. She had no real idea of what had taken place that night. What should she say?

  That Miles had raped her.

  It had taken Tally almost a week to say that even to herself. She felt betrayed and not just by Miles, feeling as she did that she had given him the motive and opportunity. But the new Jack kept telling her that it hadn’t been like that. Yes, that she’d been foolish, yes that she’d played a game she had not been ready for, but no, it had not been her fault.

  “No one should do that, Tally,” Jack told her. “But he won’t do it to any one again.”

  *

  Back in the here and now, her reverie was broken by the harsh shrilling of the telephone. It was Alec Friedman.

  “I just wondered, Miss Palmer,” Alec said, “what your blood group might be?”

  “Blood group? What the hell...?”

  “Just back checking, Miss Palmer, I’ve just one more question. Do you recall a boy called Miles Bradshaw?”

  Silently, Tally lowered the receiver back onto its cradle and as the phone went dead Alec smiled. He knew that he had guessed right and that he’d hit home.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When they returned home from the funeral Tally went straight to her room and lay down upon the bed.

  She had put the box containing Tallulah two heads on the windowsill, intending to stuff her into the toy cupboard later but feeling tired and too distressed to think of anything but just lying in the silence of her room and staring at the ceiling.

  Tally’s room was painted a light pink, with a white ceiling and cream woodwork. The curtains were gingham, white with two shades of pink. She had opened the window and they blew gently into the room. Pale flags signalling defeat.

  Tally had learnt long ago that these shades were most restful to her mind. They were colours that had melodic tones to accompany them. Insipid and unobtrusive, they spoke to her thoughts in muted whispers and allowed her fevered imagination and over stimulated brain to rest. Later in life, even the palest pink became too obtrusive when she was tired or stressed and then only white would do, though at times the purity of that non colour burned with a fire that even the darkness could not quench.

  She lay back, fully dressed upon the soft cream quilt that her mother had embroidered with chain stitch and tiny flowers and she allowed the tears to pour unchecked from her eyes and run down her face onto the bed.

  “She brought you a doll!” he laughed. “She must know by now that you can’t stand them.”

  Tally sat bolt upright. “Jack? Is that you Jack?”

  “Who else d’you think it was?”

  He was standing beside the window, the light streaming through him onto the floor.

  “Are you a ghost?” Tally wasn’t scared. How could she be scared of Jack? But she was puzzled as hell.

  Jack came over and perched on the side of the bed. He seemed quite solid enough to do that, though she could see the pattern of the quilt thought his jeans clad leg. The daisies did nothing for the blue denim.

  “How can you do this?” She reached out and touched him. She gasped. Touching Jack was like drenching her hand in the coldest water. He was there, he was solid enough to touch and he was clear as gl
ass, just tinged with colour.

  “I don’t know, Tally, but I didn’t want to leave you.” He reached and took her hands. “Maybe wishing was so strong it just brought me back here.”

  Tally pulled from his grasp and leapt off the bed. “I’ve got to tell mum and dad. Tell them you’re not dead. Oh, Jack, I can’t believe this. Mum’s cried so much and so have I and dad’s gone round like he didn’t know where he was.” She paused, puzzled as Jack shook his head. He was frowning and looking as though something caused him pain.

  “I’ve got to tell them Jack. I’ve just got to.”

  “Not yet, Tally. I don’t think...” He lay down on the bed, the slight colour in his clothes and hair fading so that Tally could hardly see that he was there.

  “Jack!” She leaped back towards the bed, trying to grasp him before he faded out completely. “Don’t leave me Jack!”

  “You’ve got to help me, Tally.” His voice became fainter now. “I don’t want to go away.”

  She lay down beside him, plunging her hands into his body, unable to feel him well enough to know where his outline lay, relying instead upon the chill against her hands and then against her body as she moved close, occupying almost the same space and time as her beloved Jack. The chill almost too much to bear, she shivered uncontrollably even in the summer heat.

  “I won’t let you go, Jack. I’ll never let you go. I’ll live for both of us Jack just like I promised. I’m you and you’re mine and we’ll never be taken apart.

  Her mother found her later when Tally failed to answer her call to come and have supper. Tally lay on the bed shivering, her lips blue with cold though her skin burned to the touch.

  Tally was ill for almost two weeks, feverish and delirious and calling out for Jack. Shock, said the doctor and probably the summer flu that was going around. Her mother read to her when she felt well enough to listen and her father moved the portable television into Tally’s room so she could watch her favourite programmes. Even after she got better Tally remained quiet and upset. She seemed lost without Jack. More lost with the passing time, not less as her parents had hoped.

  In September Tally went back to school. It would in any case have been her first year without Jack who would have gone across the playing fields to the secondary school. By now, Tally had worked out a strategy for helping Jack and on the first day back she set about carrying it forward. Jack had to go on learning. To continue to grow up as he would have done had he still been alive.

  “What teacher would Jack have had at the new school?” she wanted to know.

  Tally’s head teacher looked surprised. “I don’t know, Tally dear, but most of Zechariah’s class were going to be with Miss Bentley. Is it important?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I’m sure Miss Bentley would pass things on if she wasn’t Jack’s teacher?”

  “What things, Tally?”

  Hesitantly, Tally held out the folder she had been holding. It was made of bright green card and the front had been decorated with coloured pictures cut from magazines and hand drawn sketches.

  “What is it dear?”

  “Jack’s project. He wanted me to hand it in. I just don’t know who to give it to.”

  Mrs Dean was silent. She looked anxiously at the girl. “Did Zack get his project question early?” she asked. “I mean, did he get it before his accident?”

  Tally shook her head. “No Miss, I got it for him on the last day of term. His teacher gave me the question sheet and the green card for the folder.”

  “So...who did the project, Tally? Did you do it for him?”

  Tally sighed, knowing that her answer wasn’t going to be believed. “He wouldn’t want to get behind,” she said unwillingly, knowing that would mean nothing to Mrs Dean.

  The bell was ringing for the end of break and Tally lay the folder on the teacher’s desk. “Please,” she said. “I kind of promised.”

  “All right Tally, I’ll see what I can do.”

  She watched the child go and then picked up the phone and called Tally’s home. “Mrs Palmer? Oh, this is Mrs Dean at Oakfield School. I’ve just had a little chat with Tally and I wonder if you’d mind popping in to see me. I think we have a bit of a problem.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Alec knew that he had to tread carefully so he made the visit to Rose Palmer a strictly informal one, taking Naomi with him. Rose was surprised to see them and not in the least fooled by the vague excuses Alec had prepared.

  “If this is about my daughter,” she told Alec, “If you think she may be in trouble and from what Simon and Naomi told me before that seems likely, then I want to know.”

  Alec nodded, appreciating her forthright attitude. “I think she’s being blackmailed,” he told her. “I think Jack knows something, has known something for years and is taking advantage of her.”

  “Tally? What could Tally have done?”

  Alec was not yet ready to reveal his fears about Miles. He said quietly. “Rose, I’m not sure, but I’m sure she’s the victim here. The long term victim. It’s not so unusual, you know, people often put up with it for years when coming clean about whatever happened would have been much easier for everyone. The blackmailer often goes to great lengths to keep their fears alive and once this has started. Once you’re on the treadmill, it can be very hard to jump off.”

  “And Jack,” Naomi continued. “Whoever Jack is, he’s past master at keeping the pressure on. Tally’s reluctance to talk about him. The fact that she knows or claims to know so little even though she says also that he’s a long term friend. The control she allows Jack to have over her private life. It adds up to something being very wrong.”

  Rose was silent for a moment, she shook her head slowly, taking in what they had said. “You know, it’s almost as if she’s always needed someone else to be in control. The world sees her as this dynamic, wonderful go getter, and in her professional life that’s all true. Tally would dare anything, endure anything, but otherwise.” She looked hard at Alec. “She lets people in only so far and when they try to get further in Tally backs away. She’s been like it ever since Zechariah died.”

  She paused then for such a time that they thought she might not continue. “Rose?” Tally prompted gently. She could feel the other woman’s distress so intently.

  “I think, you know, that she must have been spying on her father,” Rose said finally. “Seen him with that other woman. She spent so long after Zack’s death trying to convince us that he’d told her about them and she knew a great deal. Where they’d met, what they’d done together...She must have been hurting as much as I was and not known what to do about it. She tried to cover herself, protect her feelings I suppose and maybe to protect me, I don’t know, by saying that Jack had told her all these things. I suppose, as she knew we couldn’t question Jack, it was easier to let him have the credit or the blame.”

  She drew a deep uneven breath as though her lungs were reluctant to accept the air. “She said...she said that he, their father, had been with that woman on the day Jack died. That he saw then on the embankment and then his father spotted him, chased him away. Tally swore that was why Jack fell. Why our son died.”

  She shifted in her seat and leaned over impulsively to take Naomi’s arm. “But how could she have known that? I ask you, how could she have known? Jack died. He fell and struck his head. He never woke up again. She couldn’t have known unless she had been there too, spying on the two of them.” She sat back abruptly. “Can you imagine how it must have felt for me, to think it was his father who chased Jack, who scared him so much that he fell to his death? Who killed him over a cheap fuck in the grass?”

  Naomi said nothing. She was shocked by Rose’s outburst. More shocked she realized irrelevantly, by the woman’s use of the obscenity. It seemed so unlike Rose. So not in keeping.

  No one spoke, then into the growing silence, Alec asked. “Rose, do you remember an incident when tally was about fourteen? A boy called Miles Bradshaw.”
/>   She turned sharply, Naomi conscious of the new alertness in the woman’s body.

  “Miles,” Rose asked. “The murdered boy. In his own home, they said. We all thought he might have disturbed a burglar.”

  “That was the theory at the time,” Alec agreed. One of them anyway, spoiled by the fact that nothing had been taken. No door or window had been forced.

  “I remember Miles,” Rose agreed. “Or at least, I remember it happening. But Tally didn’t really know the boy. You can’t possible see a connection there.”

  Something in the sharpness of her tone alerted Naomi. She asked, “Rose, are you certain Tally didn’t know him? By all accounts he was a bit of a lad, always chasing after the girls.”

  “She didn’t know him,” Rose said flatly. “No, she didn’t know.”

  They left soon after that, their welcome wearing a little thin and Naomi knew that she had touched upon an unhealed wound. More than one, but the second not so public. Naomi knew from her own teenage experiences, boys she wasn’t supposed to see; friends her parents didn’t entirely approve, that although she had been confident at the time that she had kept these liaisons hidden, her parents had known. Her sister certainly had. They had chosen not to confront her being wise enough in the ways of Naomi Blake to realize that the more they pushed the further she would shove back and that such relationships, ignored on the surface and monitored quietly, would soon burn themselves out. Rose, Naomi guessed had taken a similar tack with her own child.

  “She knows, doesn’t she?” Alec commented as though reading her thoughts.

  “Oh yes. Or suspected and we’ve just confirmed it. Alec, I don’t like what we’re doing here. Are we losing sight of things. We’re supposed to be helping Tally, not putting her future on the line.”