He switched on the light, a weak forty-watt bulb, and went up to his room. His mattress was rolled up, his blankets folded. His cupboards and drawers were empty, the clothes were gone. All the pictures on the walls, the ones he’d torn out of magazines, were also gone. There was no trace of himself. It was as though his grandmother had tried to erase him.
He was angry. He went down to get food. Ida’s kitchen cupboards were empty. He realised that with him gone she probably kept all food at Gillis’s house where she cooked. He wondered if she was living over there now. He wondered if she’d ever suspected about him and the old man.
He walked over to Gillis’s house. The back door wasn’t locked and he went in. The kitchen was a mess, the breakfast things had simply been pushed aside for lunch.
He went straight to the larder. On the back of the door hung a collection of his grandmother’s plastic shopping bags. He took down a couple and began to stuff things into them: bread, butter, some tinned food. On one of the larder shelves was the cheese board with its glass cover. There was a piece of cheddar there and he was hungry. He fetched a kitchen knife and sliced himself a piece. He stuffed it into his mouth. There was a noise behind him and he whirled round. Gillis was standing in the middle of the kitchen.
‘I never thought you’d come,’ Gillis said. ‘But you were always stupid.’
They stood in the gloom staring at each other for some seconds. Gillis had a heavy stick in his hand.
Billy said, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Call the police, what d’you think I’m going to do? Where’s the other prisoner? The one you escaped with?’
‘I dunno. We split.’
Gillis was in his long brown coat which Billy had known for most of his life. The old man would have been over seventy but his hair was still dark and thick above a bony face and sunken eyes, and it was only the bend of his spine and his limp which told of his age.
‘What d’you want to phone the police for?’ Billy said, edging slightly closer.
‘Because you’re a bloody menace, that’s why. A menace to society.’
‘I never done anything to society, Major.’
‘“Major”, is it? You never called me major before. Now it’s major all of a sudden. Well, it isn’t going to work. Ever since you were a little boy I knew you were rotten, absolutely rotten.’
Stung, Billy said, ‘Who made me rotten?’
Gillis blinked at him. ‘What do you mean? D’you mean—?’
‘Of course that’s what I mean.’
‘You’re not blaming me, are you?’
‘You was an adult.’
‘You wanted the soldiers, didn’t you? Anyway . . . we had a bit of fun that was all.’
‘You call the police and I’m going to tell them about your bit of fun.’
‘What? After all this time? They’d never believe you. And you try anything like that and out goes your grandmother.’
‘I don’t give a shit whether she goes or stays. She doesn’t want me no more. She’s cleaned out all my stuff anyway.’
‘That’s nothing to do with me.’
There was a telephone in the kitchen and Gillis began to move backwards towards it keeping his eye on Billy.
‘What’re you doing?’ Billy said.
‘What I said I was going to do; phone the police.’
‘Please, Major, don’t . . .’
‘First Major, now please. I’ve never heard you say please either.’
Billy came forward, his left hand outstretched in supplication.
‘Don’t do it. Give me a chance. I never had a chance. We never had no money. I never had no father or a proper mother. I ain’t even done anything, not to you anyway.’
Gillis raised the stick. ‘You burnt down half my bloody farm, you pervert.’
‘Please,’ Billy said. ‘Please . . .’
‘Stay back!’
Gillis’s hand went to the phone.
‘Just give me an hour. Listen . . . I’ll make a bargain. I’ll tell you where the other bloke is. Then you can ring the police. They’ll thank you for that. They’ll be ever so pleased.’
‘You said you didn’t know where he was. You split up, remember?’ Gillis smiled. He had lost several teeth in his lower jaw. ‘You always were a bloody liar.’
‘I’ll go on my knees to you.’
‘Get up.’
And he did, fast, and knocked the stick away and drove the knife into Gillis’s chest.
‘Oh my God!’ Gillis said. ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’
Billy stabbed him in the stomach.
‘Don’t Billy, don’t.’
‘So it’s “Billy” now is it!’
He stabbed him again.
‘Oh, Jesus!’
‘That’s for all the things you done to me. And that! And that!’
Gillis fell sideways, sprawling across the table, knocking cutlery and china onto the floor. Billy was onto him like a tiger. They went down together. Billy sat on his chest and sawed at his throat. A fire spray of blood covered his face.
He was shaking when he got up. He knew – without even thinking coherently – that what he had done had changed everything; that he had taken a final step. He ran upstairs, smashed open Gillis’s gun case and took out his shotgun. He loaded the gun and stuffed more cartridges into his pocket. The walls of the room were suddenly lit by beams of light as a car turned in the gravelled drive below.
In the car Anne said to Ida, ‘How are you feeling now?’
‘Oh, I’m fine, doctor. It was so silly. Come in and I’ll make a cup of tea.’
‘Thank you, but I must be getting back. I’m on duty.’
The word duty impressed Ida.
‘I’ll come with you to your door,’ Anne said. She wanted to see Ida on her feet before leaving her.
They walked to the cottage. Ida got out her front door key. ‘I’m very grateful doctor.’
‘Have a quiet day if you can. Don’t try to do too much.’
She went back to the car feeling a glow of virtue. She slipped into the driving seat and instantly realised she was not alone.
Billy Sweete said, ‘What’s up, doc?’ And giggled. ‘What’s new, pussycat?’
She felt the shock of his presence like a physical blow.
‘What are you doing here, Billy?’
It wasn’t much but she spoke before she had time to think.
‘What are you doing here, Billy?’ He mimicked. ‘What d’you think I’m doing here? I’m sitting in the back of your car and I’ve got a shotgun on my lap and I don’t want you to turn around. Understand?’
‘Yes, Billy.’
‘And don’t call me Billy. You call me Mr Sweete, you understand?’
‘Yes, Mr Sweete.’
‘Right. I’ll tell you what I’m doing here. Me and your precious Jason, we escaped. That’s what we’re doing here. And now we’re moving on and you’re going to help us.’
‘But how can I help you? There’s noth—’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out. Understand me?’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘You don’t? I thought you understood everything.’
‘Billy—’
‘What did I tell you?’
‘Mr Sweete, you’re making a mistake. I can help you but not if you go on like this.’
‘All my life people have been wanting to help me. But there was always a catch. No one ever said, Billy, I’m gonna help you; I’m gonna give you this or that. They always said, I’m gonna help you if you do this, give you this if you do that. See? There’s a difference. C’mon, drive.’
‘Which way?’
‘The way you came. And when I tell you to stop I want you to get out of the car.’
She drove away from Gillis’s house, along the track. He said, ‘Go up here,’ and she drove up behind the barns where the car was out of sight of the houses. ‘All right, get out. See that fence? Get through it.’
She climbed through the fence and saw the illuminated hole.
‘Go down the ladder.’
‘Billy, don’t do this.’
‘I told you not to call me that.’
‘But you are Billy. That’s what people have called you all your life. Don’t do this.’
‘Get down the fucking ladder!’
She looked round for something to grab, to fight with, but all she saw was the long grass and the nettles. She began to climb down into the putrid hole in the ground. Billy followed.
‘Jason. Jay-son! I’m always waking you up!’
Jason was ice cold but sweating at the same time. He felt deathly sick. It was the same kind of sickness he had felt after a session with his father, when as a little child he had run to his mother and she had taken him in her arms and comforted him. The coppery taste was worse. He sat on the bed.
‘We got a visitor,’ Billy Sweete said.
‘Jason,’ Anne said. ‘This isn’t going to help you.’
In the lamplight she could see that his face was wet.
‘Jason, what you’re doing is wrong,’ she said. ‘You’re not a criminal. You haven’t even been tried yet. But you’re acting like one. Come back with me and—’
‘That’s right, Jason. You go back with her and you’ll end up in Loxton, old man. You’ll end up in a loony bin taking drugs for the rest of your life and asking some screw every time you want to go to the toilet. You fancy that, Jason?’
‘That’s nonsense. Dr Melville and I have discussed your case. My father’s even been to the house of the girl who alleges you raped her. And he’s found out things which make us believe—’
‘Shut up!’ Billy shouted. ‘You’re a lying bitch. You’re all the same. Bitches!’
Jason said, ‘Hang on a sec, Billy.’
‘Don’t listen to her!’ Billy said, and struck Anne across the mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Bitch!’
‘Wait,’ Jason said.
‘There’s no time to wait. Things have changed, old sporty tennisplayer. We got to move.’
‘But what about her?’
‘We leave her here.’
‘Here? In the hole?’
‘Of course. Where else?’
Anne felt the blood leave her face. ‘Don’t leave me here!’ She thought of Hilly waiting to be picked up at her playgroup. She thought of her father. ‘Jason, don’t let him do this!’
But Jason slowly shook his head. His mouth was filling with bile. He looked round desperately for somewhere to throw up. He grabbed the handle of the toilet door and wrenched at it.
‘Jason!’ Billy shouted.
The purulent air hit him like a shock wave. His stomach heaved dryly. In the light of the oil lamps the dolls looked shadowy and menacing, all wrapped in plastic as though they had come from the shops. Big for dolls though. Too big. The eyes and the hair and the teeth suspended in liquefaction . . .
Billy slammed the door shut.
‘I told you not to open it, Jason old bean, old sport. And now look what you’ve done.’
‘Billy, you . . . you . . .’
‘Me . . . me . . .’ he mimicked.
‘Oh, Jesus. The kids.’
‘You shouldn’t have opened the door, Jason. Don’t you remember Bluebeard’s room? You never, never open the door, do you Sister Anne?’
‘You bastard!’ Jason shouted.
‘Sticks and stones, old tiger.’ He swung the gun round to cover him. ‘Do you see anyone coming, Sister Anne? And you won’t neither. This is a reservoir, don’t forget. No one’s going to look here. And you can shout as much as you like, there’s eight feet of concrete all around you.’
‘You’re mad!’ Jason said. ‘Crazy!’
‘Don’t say that.’ He released the safety catch on the gun.
‘But you are! And you blamed the kids on me!’
He raised the gun to Jason’s chest. ‘Who loves yo—’
The bleeper in Anne’s coat pocket went off. Billy half swung towards her. And Jason’s powerful hands which had been so assiduously created by his father and were so fast, so very, very fast, shot out and gripped Billy by the throat and slammed him against the wall. The shotgun came up. Anne grabbed the barrel. When it fired in the confined space it almost punctured their eardrums. But the shot went up into the dark winter sky and that was the last sound Billy Sweete ever heard, for a few moments later Jason squeezed the life out of him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hilly was asleep. She lay on her back, mouth slightly open, lips turned upward in a faint smile. Anne stood at the bedroom door looking down at her. Henry had come up too and was standing at her side.
‘Isn’t she marvellous?’ he said softly. ‘You were like that once.’
‘Not any more.’
He watched her with troubled eyes. ‘She’ll never know. Not unless you tell her.’
‘Perhaps I will one day.’
They went downstairs. The past six or seven hours had been an extension of the nightmare. There had been Gillis’s body and Ida Tribe’s hysteria. The police. The Governor. The statement to the press. The gauntlet of tv cameras. Jason had been the least of her worries. Indeed it was he who had phoned the police from the farm while she comforted Ida. There had been no hint that he might run. No hint of further anger. On the contrary he seemed drained, leached, squeezed dry of emotion.
But the images in her mind were not those of the police or the media but of the two little bodies wrapped in plastic. Their faces metamorphosed into Hilly’s face. Two identical faces, lying dead there in the stench.
Eventually the police had finished with her and she had been allowed to leave the prison – but not before there had been talk of counselling. Finally she had lost her temper and said, ‘I don’t want a counsellor, I just want to go home!’
‘Do you want to talk about it any more?’ her father said, as they entered the living-room.
‘Not really.’
‘When you do, I’m here.’
‘I know.’
‘Meantime, may I recommend a stiff drink?’
She shook her head. ‘It would go to my legs.’
‘Do you want company?’
‘I think I’d like to be by myself for a little while. I hope that doesn’t sound ungrateful.’
‘Of course not. I’ll be down in the flat if you need me.’
She kissed him and watched him go down and close the door. She was uncertain of what to do. She didn’t want food or alcohol. She’d had a shower and in a little while she’d have a bath. Without conscious thought she began to tidy. She tidied the living-room and then went to the kitchen and cleaned it compulsively. She washed the dishes and put in the laundry and mopped the floor and wiped the work tops. She was just starting on the oven when the phone rang.
Tom, she thought. His had been the mystery absence. He had gone up to London for the monthly meeting at the Home Office but had left Whitehall before he could be told what had happened. He had then vanished. He should have been back in Kingstown hours ago.
She was feeling aggrieved with Tom. She had wanted and needed him by her side when they asked her questions about Billy Sweete and Jason.
Had she thought of Sweete as an escape risk? If not why not?
Not in quite those words, but that had been the burden and slowly she had begun to feel that she had been to blame for it all.
But it wasn’t Tom; it was Clive. ‘I’m on the motorway near Leicester,’ he said. ‘I’ve just heard the news. Are you all right?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘Listen, that’s it! Okay? That’s the end!’
‘What’s the end?’
‘You haven’t got a contract, have you?’
‘A contract?’
‘I mean you’re not tied up for six months or a year, are you? Even if you are we’ll break it. Let the bastards sue!’
‘What’s this all about, Clive?’
‘You’re getting out.’
&nb
sp; ‘Now, wait a moment.’
Her first reaction had been to hand in her resignation, not for her own sake but because of Hilly. But when Clive put it like that in his boardroom voice, the voice which he used to steamroller the opposition into doing what he wanted them to do – something inside her reacted.
‘I’m not under contract and I’m not resigning. Not yet, anyway.’
‘Listen.’ Now she heard anger in his voice. ‘Listen, I’m not having—’
‘Clive, I don’t want to talk about it. You’re treating me like a parent treats a child who’s been in danger, a mixture of relief and anger. I know because I’ve spoken to Hilly like that.’
‘That’s exactly it. That’s how you need to be treated. I told you right at the beginning that this was a stupid thing to do. You want your independence, I can understand that but—’
‘Clive, listen—’
‘If you married me you’d never have to work again. Separate bank accounts. Monthly allowance – a generous one. You could look after Hilly properly and you could also look after me and—’
‘What d’you mean “properly”?’ Her voice was like a razor.
‘I don’t mean that you don’t look after her as well as you can but—’
There was the sudden peal of the doorbell. She jerked with fright. ‘There’s someone at the door. Probably the police again. I can’t talk any more now.’
‘I’ll ring you later.’
‘No, don’t. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
He was starting to say something else when she put the phone down and went to the door. It wasn’t the police but Tom, and he was paying off a black cab, or at least trying to. The cabbie was doubtful about taking a cheque. ‘Okay, guv, but it better not bounce. I’ll come looking for you.’
He drove off in a cloud of diesel. Tom ran up the steps and took Anne’s hands. He held her away from him and then, abruptly pulled her close. She broke away after a moment. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t believe it! Are you all right?’
‘Yes, yes.’
‘Are you sure? Are you certain?’
She disengaged herself.
Burn Out (Dr. Anne Vernon Book 1) Page 24