Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  It was JD. He’d followed us to Blackpool. Somehow. How had he known where we were? He was only metres away from us. At last I was going to get my chance to have it out with him.

  ‘How do we stop this thing?’ I shouted. ‘Does it have an emergency button or something?’

  ‘Don’t think it works like that, you have to get the attention of the guy who’s operating it.’

  ‘Quick! Can you get a photograph of him on your phone? I’m going to try to get the guy to stop the ride.’

  We were beginning to slow down, the ride appeared to be coming to a stop. The young lad who was supposed to be in charge was talking to a teenager with her midriff barely contained by a pair of tight trousers and a T-shirt, which had either shrunk badly in the wash or was designed to half-heartedly cover up her breasts. Needless to say, he didn’t give a toss about me. He studiously ignored me as we whizzed past: some crazy bloke in a carriage shouting ‘Mate! Hey mate!’ while he chatted her up.

  Reluctantly, he was forced to pay some cursory attention as he began to let people out of the carriages. I looked below to figure out the order in which we’d be let off the ride.

  ‘Bollocks, Alex. He’s getting off before we do. The bastard will be well away by the time we get out. I’m going to try to climb out.’

  ‘Damn, Pete, you’ll break your neck! These cages are locked from the outside anyway. You’ll never get out. They’d get jumpers all the time if they weren’t locked, can you imagine the mess?’

  ‘I looked at the locking mechanism on the carriage door. She was right. I could squeeze my fingers through the metal grille, but there was no way I would be able to slide the bolt upward then out of its retainer. We were shafted. We’d have to sit there and watch, admiring the views of Blackpool, while JD exited his carriage and walked off into the crowds.

  ‘Are you sure it’s him?’

  I’d never seen the guy before. I wanted a good look so I’d recognise him in future.

  ‘I’m as sure as I can be, Pete. He’s dressed the same. Same height, hair and look.’

  ‘What are your photos like? Did you get anything?’

  ‘They’re terrible, Pete. We were too far away and moving too fast. They’re blurs, although I got a lovely shot of the promenade.’

  I was frustrated and not feeling very playful. It only took a small thing and I was completely unsettled again. The thought of this JD guy watching me, following me, waiting for ... who knows what? Was he some weirdo, excited by my connection with the murders? Or was it more sinister than that? Either way, I wanted him scared off by the police.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out to see that I’d received a couple of texts.

  One from Diane at work. Strange.

  Hi Pete, sorry to disturb on your holiday. We’ve had an unusual visit at the station. A lady called Hannah Young. Very keen to speak to you. Says she knows Meg. Please call when you can, Diane

  ‘Now this is interesting!’

  I forgot all about JD and handed my phone to Alex so that she could read the text.

  ‘Hannah Young. That’s the person who placed the flowers on Sally’s grave. It has to be Meg’s sister, it’s too much of a coincidence.’

  Alex nodded and handed back the phone.

  ‘Has he got off yet?’ I asked, resigned now to JD getting away. ‘Is it worth phoning the police?’

  Alex looked over the side of the carriage.

  ‘He’s getting out now. I can try for a photo, see what I can get on zoom. I’ll do my best to follow him in the crowd. He wants to get under your skin, Pete. He’d have done something by now if he was going to. He’s trying to rattle you.’

  ‘He’s doing a good job of it!’ I said, opening up the second text. It was Becky again. She was sounding increasingly unhinged. Please tell me I hadn’t hooked up with a nutter.

  Pete. Where are you? Police still at your caravan. Need to see you. Becky xxx

  The next one had a photo attached. A picture of her breasts. Alex caught a glimpse of it.

  Remember these Pete? They’re all yours. Meet me. Where are you? Becky xxx

  There was a third text from Becky. This was getting a bit more intense than I was comfortable with.

  Where are you Pete? Can’t find you on the site. Want to see you. Has that bitch friend of yours gone yet? Call me. Text me. Soon. Becky

  No more pictures with that text. Shame. We’d agreed to meet again after Alex had left, it all seemed a bit strange to me. And, all of a sudden, Alex was being referred to as a bitch. This had all the makings of jealous girlfriend material. Only, we weren’t an item, we’d had casual sex, a one-night stand.

  ‘Whose were the tits?’ Alex asked. ‘Not your mum having trouble with her mobile phone again?’

  I burst out laughing at that.

  ‘Look, I’m going to tell you something. Please don’t book me in for a chemical castration when I do, okay? I slept with that woman from the campsite the night before you came, the one you asked me about when we were talking to Vicky, but you guessed that bit already.

  ‘I got lucky, she was young and hot. It was a one-time thing, although we did arrange to meet again after you’d gone. Only, she’s getting a bit heavy now. She’s going crazy because I moved caravans.’

  ‘Have you told her where we moved to?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Don’t. Not with the break-in and Len’s death. She might be a suspect for all we know.’

  ‘I doubt it, Alex. She obviously can’t get enough of me and is desperate for more. It’s the effect I have on women.’

  Alex gave me a playful kick.

  ‘Funny that, I don’t remember it!’ she said, then immediately apologised.

  ‘Sorry, Pete, I didn’t mean that, even in jest. I loved being with you when we were together. Funny thing is, I can understand why she’s getting like that. You’re a nice guy, you know. You’re a bit of a prat sometimes, you need to keep that cock of yours zipped up a bit more often. But there aren’t a lot of guys like you around. Don’t underestimate your powers over women.’

  I was a bit shocked by that. It was a very nice thing to say. Especially from a woman who’d spent several years living with me. She knew me, warts and all. She’d experienced all of my bad habits. She was right about my cock. It kept landing me in trouble, I was slow to learn for a forty-year-old. But it wasn’t easy, Becky was hot and she wanted me. It was a challenge to say no.

  ‘I think I should--’

  ‘There he goes!’ Alex interrupted. ‘He’s off into the crowds. Lost him already. I’m doubting whether it’s even him now. He didn’t even look back. If it was JD, he’d be watching us, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Who knows?’ I answered, frustrated by the whole affair.

  ‘I’ll tell DCI Summers when I speak to her next. How would he even know we were here anyway?’

  ‘Twitter, that’s how!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He knows exactly what we’re up to because it’s on Twitter. People have been taking sly photos all morning. If he’s following me on Twitter, he knows exactly where we are.’

  ‘What time were those photos taken? You’re right, he could have driven or trained it down here, and he’d have known that we’d eventually be somewhere near the seafront. But surely not. It seems a bit secret service to me.’

  ‘Look at my hashtag.’ Alex showed me her phone. ‘If you follow me via my hashtag, it’s like a tracking system. A nutter could piece that together – maybe not everywhere, but in Blackpool it’s simple enough. You can see that we’re at the front now. I’ll bet that’s how he did it.’

  ‘We’re getting paranoid. You’re not even certain it’s him, are you? This is how they get to you, Alex. I saw what it did to Ellie. Tony Miller messed with her mind. It’s what stalkers do.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right, Pete. What are you going to say to the tits lady? Becky, was it? I’d give her some answer, but don’t tell her which caravan we’re in. Will you see
her again?’

  ‘I’m thinking twice about it now, to be honest with you. I know you won’t appreciate this as a woman, Alex, but she was hot. It’s hard to say no. But she’s beginning to sound a bit psycho now, I think I need to put her off. What should I say? Any tips?’

  ‘Tell her the truth. Tell her that we’re away overnight and that you can’t see her. Say that you can’t remember which caravan number you’re in as it was a last-minute change. Give her some general location on the campsite.’

  ‘Good idea,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell her I know where it is, but can’t remember the plot number. That sounds convincing. Should I see her again?’

  ‘I wouldn’t disappear completely, not if she’s a bit intense. It depends how you feel.’

  ‘Much as I’m tempted to see her again, she leaves on Saturday. If I can avoid her until then, she’ll be gone forever. I can block her on my phone. It might be a problem if Vicky offers me any more shifts in the bar, but if I can survive until the weekend, I’ll be clear of her. Might get that picture of her tits framed, though.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about staying a bit longer, if that’s okay? Maybe until the weekend. I know there’s some weird stuff going on, but I’m having fun. I haven’t had fun like this for a long time. Would that be alright?’

  I didn’t need to think about it.

  ‘Of course it would! I love having you here. It’s been great, especially with all that’s going on. Stay as long as you like. I’ll mention it to Vicky, I’m sure she’ll be fine with an extra tenant. It’s not like you’re staying forever.’

  ‘It’s going to annoy Becky. Especially if you promised her a rematch. Are you okay with that?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Come on, Alex. I know I’m a dickhead, but I’m not going to chase you away because I’ve got a chance to sleep with some woman that I only met the other night.’

  Alex slapped my arm.

  ‘Bastard!’ she said, then gave me a kiss on the cheek. I did like having her around. It was good to have company while all this weird stuff was going on.

  ‘I’m going to reply to Becky. I’ll maybe block her number tonight when I can download a decent app over Wi-Fi.’

  Hi Becky. Can’t remember where my new caravan is, somewhere over the far side now. Sorry, I changed my plans. My friend is now staying until the weekend. We won’t be able to meet up again. I enjoyed our time together. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. Pete

  ‘Should I add a kiss at the end? Too much?’

  ‘Maybe not, Pete. Or how about one? That would be okay, she uses enough of them.’

  ‘Okay, one kiss. How about a dick pic? Too much?’

  ‘Do you have super-zoom on that camera of yours? If not, best give it a miss!’

  ‘Cow!’ I laughed, then sent the text to Becky. Minus the dick pic.

  I thought nothing more of it. I thought I’d be able to dispatch Becky with that one text and it would all be over. We were consenting adults, it was a casual encounter, I hadn’t made any promises to her.

  Only Becky had other things in mind. For her, it wasn’t a casual encounter. She’d been watching me for some time. For Becky, that night had been the start of something special.

  We woke up next day in the small hotel that we’d booked into on the seafront. It had felt a bit odd checking in, as Alex had kept her sunglasses on, even though it was dark outside.

  ‘I don’t want anybody tweeting that we’re here. That’s all we need, to find JD with a meat cleaver in the next room to us.’

  ‘Jeez, Alex, you know how to put a man at ease!’

  We booked in as Mr and Mrs Bailey, there was no need for us to sleep in separate rooms, we were pals.

  ‘Twins or double?’ I asked. ‘No pressure for either, I just thought as ...’

  We’d spent our first two nights curled up on my bed, fully clothed, but comfortable in the other’s company. I didn’t want to assume anything.

  ‘Twins!’ Alex answered straight away.

  She must have seen my face drop.

  ‘I’m only kidding, Pete. Get a double again. Only no farting like you did the other night. Bet you didn’t treat Becky like that.’

  We made our way up several flights of stairs, which were lined with a dingy deep red carpet which had seen better days. Each room had heavy fire doors, and occasionally we’d hear the sound of a tinny TV as we passed by one of the rooms. Not my idea of a holiday, but it would do for the night. If the sheets were clean and there were no rats, it would be fine. We were both knackered and in need of sleep.

  We’d taken great care to make sure that JD wasn’t following us, ducking in and out of the attractions, separating and then meeting up again at pre-agreed places. There was no way he could have kept up with us, and with Alex now wearing her black cap to conceal her long hair, we were no longer aware of the selfie-takers spotting her then capturing that special moment with their camera.

  We slept in until 9 o’clock and had to shower and get ready fast to catch breakfast, a traditional British fry-up. As we waited for our food, we sat in front of the large picture window, gazing out to sea as we came round from a good night’s sleep.

  ‘What do you think about this Hannah woman?’ I asked. ‘Do you think it could be Meg’s sister? Why would she turn up now?’

  ‘I don’t know, Pete. Stranger things have happened. Did you email Diane last night? Has she got back to you?’

  ‘Yes, nothing so far. She’ll only just have got into the office. We can’t do anything about it until we’re back anyway. How about you, any replies?’

  ‘No, all quiet. It’ll take a while, I think. Anything about the house fire isn’t likely to be on computer, although it may have been transferred over into a digital format. It’s a waiting game. Are you going to call Kate Summers today – tell her about JD or whoever it was?’

  ‘Yes, I will. If I’m honest, I don’t really want to go back to the campsite. I’ve really enjoyed it here. I can see why you want to go to Spain, though – get away from the selfie-brigade. It’s horrible, I don’t know how you tolerate it.

  ‘It wasn’t like that in the olden days. I met Peter Purves once. He used to be on Blue Peter in the seventies. He was a nice guy, we had a good chat. He told me it used to be completely different. People still recognised you, but they respected your privacy more – and they weren’t taking photos all the time, either.’

  ‘Well, it’s a pain in the arse. I think you’re very good with the punters. I reckon I’d get shirty with them after a while. It’s an invasion of privacy. You can’t do anything without someone watching you.’

  ‘Did you think any more about coming to Spain with me, Pete? Only for a while. It’s not only me who has to disappear, you know. You could come too. We still get on alright, don’t we? It’s been like old times doing this.’

  ‘I’ve loved it, Alex. It’s been great seeing you again. But I have to sort out what’s happening with Meg. You don’t just switch that stuff off unfortunately. I might have a kid. I can tell you something, though, you have made me decide one thing. I’m sorting everything with Meg. It’s time to put it to bed.’

  ‘Well, you know what I want, Pete. I know you have stuff to sort out, but this feels to me like what we should have done a long time ago. I shouldn’t have gone to London. I know it was great for my career and everything, but we should have worked it out. You could have come with me. We didn’t have to drift apart like that.’

  I knew what she was driving at. Alex had made no secret of the fact that she regretted what we’d lost. She’d got her fabulous, shiny career, but it hadn’t made her happy. I’d met Meg, and we’d had a life together while Alex was experiencing her meteoric rise in TV land. Sure, it had all gone tits-up, but I still loved Meg. I still owed her something, even if we were over. I might be a father, after all. I’d have to provide financial support, if nothing else. I’d want to see my own kid. What a mess.

  The fry-up arrived. It was huge, more than any single human could possib
ly eat. My phone vibrated as I started to chew on the first bit of bacon. It was an email from Diane.

  Hi Pete,

  Hope you’re well, so sorry to hear what’s happened at the house. We’re covering the story, of course, but I’ve sent out a memo telling the news team not to bother you. The national outlets have been chasing us for an interview too. Maybe we can do what we did last time – record one interview and distribute to all of the outlets. You decide, there’s no rush, I understand how this must be worrying you.

  I dealt with Hannah Young when she came into reception. She was very insistent that she speak to you. She’s well educated, not aggressive or anything like that, but she knew how to rattle Pam, and you know how good a receptionist she is.

  She gave me her email address and she’s staying locally. I’ve attached the details in a document so that you can print it out. I don’t think she’s a journalist, she assured me it was a personal matter.

  Hope you’re enjoying your break, so sorry once again that you’re having problems over at the house.

  Take care,

  Diane.

  Hannah used a Hotmail address. There were no more clues about her name in there. I was hoping to see Yates in the address, but it was written as hannahy and a load of numbers. The ‘y’ stood for Young, I knew that already. I sent her an email, dropping mushrooms on my jeans as I tried to do two things at once.

  ‘Bollocks,’ I cursed, wiping the greasy mark off as best I could.

  ‘The papers are still going big on the murders, Pete, it’s all over the place. They’ve reprinted one of those photos on Twitter. Everybody in the country knows that you and I are in Blackpool now, but at least there aren’t any new pictures of us. There’s no way JD can know where we are.’

  I was keen to see Hannah and find out what she wanted. Was she Meg’s sister? If she’d left flowers at Sally’s grave, she had to be connected in some way. Perhaps she was part of Sally and Jem’s family, or it might be a dead end, but I wanted to know, and she was keen to meet me too.

  Hi Hannah,