Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘Oh God, they were funny!’ Alex burst out laughing, recalling our first visit there. She’d behaved terribly, laughing at their occasional misuse of words and thinking that they didn’t recognise her from the TV. Only they did. Still, they were very nice about it. Alex had been horrified when she realised they knew who she was.

  ‘I keep hanging around that cashpoint by the corner shop. The owner must think I’m some sort of pervert. You’re sure that’s where the money was drawn out?’

  ‘I told you. It was the last time she drew money from a joint account. My digital forensics guy spotted it. It was that top-up card you used for holidays. No wonder you didn’t see it on your statements. I bet you never even look at it, do you?’

  ‘It’s all online. We top it up when we need it. It had just over a hundred quid on it – well, you know that already – but she can’t have got far on it. She might only have been passing by. It doesn’t mean she’s living in that part of town, does it?’

  ‘No, I know, but it’s a lead at least. And you know she’s in Blackpool. It makes sense that she went back home. She knows the area.’

  ‘How about you, Alex? Any plans to return to the UK yet?’

  She’d given up her prime-time TV job presenting Crime Beaters and all of the celebrity appearances elsewhere that had entailed. As far as I knew, she still didn’t have any plans to return to TV.

  ‘I’ve had some offers, Pete, but I don’t feel ready. After what happened, everything seems so petty now. I thought we were going to die that night. It’s made me think about things more. I’ve had a lot of time to reconsider my direction in life.’

  ‘You’ll be lighting incense sticks and doing Tai Chi next. Please tell me you haven’t started Tai Chi?’

  ‘No way! But come on, Pete. You must know what I mean? You nearly had your head torn off in that bell tower. You can’t tell me you haven’t been thinking things through?’

  She was right, of course, but I couldn’t get beyond my immediate problems. It was becoming a mantra: Meg – baby – house – job. Repeat ad infinitum. It was a drumbeat pounding in my head all day long. I couldn’t move beyond it.

  In the stillness of the night-time I thought about the deaths. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept right through until morning. There’d been so much violence, so many deaths. And there was Becky too, stuck in a wheelchair and going through endless rounds of therapy. She had tried to blackmail – and kill – me, but I wouldn’t wish a life stuck in a wheelchair on anyone. I heard her whimpers of pain in my sleep. I’d never heard a noise like it – desperate, agonising human pain. It was horrible. I never wanted to hear that sound again.

  I kept in touch with DCI Kate Summers. I’d seen a lot of her in the aftermath of the deaths. Endless questions. Who did what to whom, the usual inquisition from the police. Alex and I had agreed to go light on Becky. She’d been punished enough. We made it sound as if she’d been coerced by her crazy bloke, Lee. And we helped Ian Davies’ case too. He’d saved our lives, even though he was pissed with us. He’d gone free; they decided there was no case for him to answer. He’d been following us and he’d rattled us at the time, but we didn’t make a complaint.

  ‘I do think about things, Alex. It bothers me a lot, but it’s over now. Statistically we’ve had our quota of crap in our lives. That must mean that I have one hell of a great future ahead.’

  ‘Did you think anymore about what I said? Do you think you’ll change your mind?’

  ‘I’m a journalist, Alex. I’d be bored working in a Spanish bar. I’d need something more to keep my mind engaged. You’d go mad too, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t leave your celebrity life forever ... would you?’

  I could see by the look on her face that she’d been thinking about it. I’d spent enough time with Alex to know what a hassle being in the spotlight could be. I didn’t envy her that life. She’d be unable to escape it in the UK, but a life abroad would offer some anonymity.

  ‘It wouldn’t have to be a bar, Pete. It could be a restaurant or snack place. We could open a bookshop. I just don’t think I want to go back to all that ...’

  ‘The constant social media scrutiny and the selfies? I know how you feel. That week you spent with me gave me a taste of what you have to put up with. It’s not for me!’

  ‘I’ve had a few offers come in. I need to meet with my agent next week. I’ve got to fly over. I’m in London on Wednesday, and then I can come over ... if you want?’

  Alex seemed unsure. I wasn’t used to hearing her like that. She’d reached out to me last time I’d seen her and I’d pushed her back. I wasn’t ready to discuss the future. Sure, Alex and I had been living together all those years ago, but I’d been married to Meg for a long time. I doubted if we could salvage the marriage, but we had to get things sorted out, legally if nothing else. My life was on hold. I was stuck until I could see Meg.

  ‘You know who’s appearing in Blackpool when I’m over, don’t you?’

  ‘No, who?’ I replied, wondering why Alex had suddenly changed the subject.

  ‘It’s your clairvoyant mate, Steven Terry – the one you told me about, who warned you what was going to happen with Meg. That’s him, isn’t it?’

  ‘“Steven Terry, clairvoyant to the stars” is how he bills himself. Where’s he playing? I’d like to speak to him. He was spot on when he warned me about Becky. He was right the first time too. I bought his book, you know. I laughed at the title the first time I heard it: Past & Present: My Life Seeing The Future. I’m not laughing now, not after those warnings he gave me. He was dead right.’

  ‘He’s playing for three nights at the Winter Gardens – the Thursday, Friday and Saturday after I’m in London. How about I train it up to Blackpool and we look for Meg together?’

  It sounded like a great plan. I’d been lonely since moving to Blackpool. Being a district reporter and working on your own in a small office isn’t the fastest way to make new friends. Alex and I had had a great time last time we were in Blackpool together. It would be good to have her help.

  ‘You know that my flat is really shitty, don’t you? I mean, the flat isn’t shitty, but the people who live here are. Not all of them. Some of them. But it’s not as nice as your digs in Spain; that’s what I’m saying.’

  ‘It’s fine, Pete. You know me. I’m not snobby about these things. I should have been off the TV long enough not to be too interesting to anybody. Has that episode of Celebrity Cake Makers aired yet? We filmed it ages ago.’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I seem to have registered the series ending. You’ll forgive me for not watching, I hope? If you want to make a cake while you’re here, I promise to get really excited, if that helps!’

  Alex laughed.

  ‘See what I mean? My life is shite! I appear on TV programmes about baking cakes. Take me out and shoot me now. If my agent doesn’t have anything interesting lined up for me, I’m telling you, Pete, I’m jacking it in. I’ve had enough—’

  The doorbell rang. Sometimes it was kids, pressing all eight buttons connected to the units in my building.

  ‘One moment, Alex. I’ll see if it’s kids messing around.’

  I moved away from my laptop, wiped the mist from the window and looked down towards the front doorstep below. No sign of kids. The bell rang again. I could just about make out somebody down there. He stepped back and I rubbed the window again; it was misting up already.

  He was in clear view now, but it took a moment to work out who it was. Damn it, it was the car finance guy. I knew I was sailing close to the wind. I was a few direct debit payments behind and they were coming to collect a cheque from me.

  ‘Who is it?’ Alex asked, hoping it might be someone interesting.

  ‘Oh, it’s only bloody kids,’ I answered, pulling back from the window so that I wouldn’t be spotted.

  Chapter Two

  1991 There was a new child arriving. A new child always created a buzz of excitement in the home. It was instinctive. Kids lo
ve meeting new kids; it might be a new pal, a new playmate. But that natural desire to meet the new arrival was always tinged with fear and trepidation. If they were mature already, they’d be chosen by Gary. They wouldn’t even have that short period of time where they were left out of it. The older kids would move in, try to make it better for them when the time came. If they were much younger, they’d be safe for a while. Not from Gary and his anger, but at least from them. The men in the suits. The ones that they despised even more than Gary.

  The new child looked terrified. She was crying. That’s often how kids arrived at the Woodlands Edge children’s home. The tears would be the result of being parted from foster parents or perhaps an adoption process that didn’t work out. Some of the children arrived barely weeks after the death of their parents. Hannah knew one boy who’d arrived at the home three hours after he’d seen both of his parents buried.

  If only Gary could be the way he was when he was being watched by his superiors. He was exemplary then – eager to please, doing everything by the book. When he was back in charge, when all eyes were averted, Gary became the bully that he truly was. Hateful. Why did he work in that place since he seemed to despise the children?

  Straightaway Hannah clocked the new kid as someone she wanted to know. She was fourteen years old and becoming aware that things weren’t right for some of the older girls. They’d often not come to bed at night, and then sneak back into their rooms early in the morning. She could hear their sobs, but they’d be accompanied by the warning threats of Gary.

  Nobody ever talked openly about what was going on, but there was a knowledge that permeated the home. It started with the younger children, an unsettling feeling that things were not quite right among the teenagers. They would become aware of hushed conversations among the older children, conversations which often ended with an arm around the shoulder, tears, a hug from one youngster trying to reassure another.

  They would see the changes on the faces of the older ones. They would carry on as normal, get up in the morning, go to school, do their chores around the home, but something was extinguished, their eyes became dead and lifeless. Any joy seemed to disappear. The young ones saw it. They just didn’t know what it was yet.

  When the new girl arrived, it was a thrill for Hannah. She saw the tears, and she wanted to reach out and help. She knew that they’d be friends the minute she saw her.

  It always took some time for the new arrivals to be free to meet the other children. They’d come with at least one adult, who’d be dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase or a folder crammed with paperwork. They’d head for Gary’s office, and Gary would seem like the best person in the world to be running a children’s home. He’d joke around and be playful with the new child, sounding professional and efficient to the social worker who’d come with them. After the paperwork was completed, the child would be given a formal tour of the building and introduced to any of the other kids they encountered on the way. Finally, after what seemed to the other kids like hours, they’d be released into the wild, to their first night in Woodlands Edge.

  ‘My name’s Hannah,’ she said at teatime. ‘Where have you come from?’

  The child shrugged.

  ‘What’s your name?’

  Another shrug.

  The girl was a little younger than Hannah. She wouldn’t stop crying, so it was difficult for Hannah to speak to her. They’d all seen it before. Some kids came into the home cocksure and arrogant, but of course it was only a front. Others knew the care system well, and understood that you had to watch and learn first, work out the hierarchies, see who was dangerous and who was vulnerable.

  This new kid was the scared type. Something had happened fairly recently. Usually it was dead parents or something horrible. Often there was no other family, and the authorities had no option but to place them in care. This girl had been passed from foster parent to foster parent, her addict mother unable to care for her on her own. Finally she had taken one pill too many and never woke up. With no father recorded on the birth certificate, the fostering was over and the care system beckoned.

  Care for a child should be having a person to go to who loves them unconditionally. For the kids in that home, there was no such option. Care to them was an adult working through a checklist. There was no cuddle when they fell over, just a plaster, a kind word and a note in the accident book.

  This girl needed a parent’s love, but she wasn’t going to get it. She’d have to toughen up and learn to live without it. Gary Maxwell was the man who made the rules now, and she’d have to adapt. Hannah wanted to make that process as gentle as possible. She knew to leave the girl alone with her thoughts and sat next to her as they finished their dinner in silence. Afterwards they watched TV. It was nothing that Hannah was interested in, but she sensed that this new girl would be happy to stay away from the rough and tumble of the other children while she adjusted to her new surroundings.

  They sat in the TV room until bedtime, which for them was nine o’clock. Hannah sensed him before she saw him. Gary was approaching. She knew what was coming. He did it every time. He got in early, before they’d even slept through their first night. The fear needed to begin straightaway. It’s how he held onto his power. He switched the TV off and came up to the girls. A couple of the other kids got up and moved away. They knew what this was.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asked, charming and friendly.

  The new girl looked up at him, her eyes red where she’d been trying to hold back her tears. Gary’s arm moved out suddenly and violently. He pushed Hannah’s glass of juice from where it had been resting safely on the arm of her chair. The glass shattered on the ground and the juice splashed onto Gary’s trousers. His transition to fury was immediate and complete. The new child tensed in her chair, not knowing what to do. This is why Hannah had come to her in friendship. She was there to guide the new girl, to navigate her through this.

  ‘You stupid girl!’ he shrieked at her. ‘I’ve told you to be careful with drinks in here. Now look what you’ve done! Clear it up! Clear it up!’

  The new girl had never seen an adult so immediately out of control. Her tears stopped as her survival instinct kicked in. Hannah leapt out of her chair and began to pick up the broken glass. Gary was shouting at her, telling her how stupid she’d been, what a fool she was, how it was her own idiocy that had resulted in the accident.

  ‘Get some kitchen roll and wipe my trousers.’

  Hannah looked up at him, wondering what this meant. Something had just changed for her. This wasn’t good. She ran into the small kitchen, tore off a wad of paper and ran back to the TV room. All the other kids had made themselves scarce. Gary had been ranting at the new girl throughout, telling her what an idiot Hannah was, warning her not to do the same, or else.

  He made Hannah wipe down his trousers. Then he pushed her to the floor and forced her to wipe up the remains of the juice on all fours.

  ‘Like a dog!’ he laughed at her.

  She worked through it, step-by-step, knowing this process well. He wouldn’t hurt her, not physically, at least. But a little piece of her would die inside. Her dignity, her hope would deaden slightly and Gary would exert a little more control. Ready for later. When she was older. That’s how he did it.

  Hannah saw Bob pass by the door as she’d been mopping up the juice. He’d hesitated, looking in, assessing what was going on.

  ‘On your way, Bob!’ Gary had ordered him. ‘These girls are just learning the importance of clearing up their own mess.’

  Bob had waited a moment, trying to meet Hannah’s eyes to work out if she was really okay. Hannah knew better than to look up. Bob looked as if he was about to say something, but moved on. It would be another year at least until he would confront Gary and lose his job in the process.

  Gary strung it out for over ten minutes. He made sure that every drop of discomfort was wrung out before he released Hannah from her ordeal. He found every opportunity for humiliation that
he could, but he didn’t do a thing to the new girl. He didn’t have to. This was all the induction that she’d need.

  Eventually he was gone. He dismissed them both with a ‘Go to bed!’ and waited while they walked out of the room.

  ‘It’s alright,’ Hannah began, as they walked slowly up the winding staircase together. ‘It’s over now. He just does that. I’m okay.’

  The staircase was wide and long. It had been a huge Victorian house once upon a time. The new girl’s hand found Hannah’s and squeezed it gently.

  They stopped on the staircase and looked at each other. It was Hannah’s eyes that were red now; she’d done her best to check her tears, but she couldn’t hold them in, however brave she was trying to be for the new girl.

  ‘It’s okay,’ the new girl said. ‘I’m sorry he did that to you.’

  Hannah smiled. She’d known that this girl would be her friend.

  ‘My name’s Meg. I’m sorry I didn’t speak much earlier.’

  Hannah looked at her, still holding her hand. Then she saw Meg’s face change, to a determination that she would observe many times in later years. Meg spoke again, different now, much stronger.

  ‘Don’t worry, Hannah. I’ll look after you. I’ll make sure that man doesn’t hurt you.’

  It was wild along the esplanade at Fleetwood. I had heard that sometimes the sea got so choppy it threw up stones capable of breaking a windscreen. I was a bit nervous but equally anxious to record the interview for that day’s news report, get it edited and meet with Deirdre and Janet at the Methodist church at five o’clock. I’d spoken to the ladies before, but I wanted to know more. Their friend Cathy was unwell and not able to join us. It was a shame – those ladies had been a breath of fresh air when I’d met them with Alex.

  I wanted to pick up my tickets for Steven Terry’s first night too. I’d booked them over the phone from the office earlier that day, but I wanted them in my hands, just to be sure.