Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  I made a third try at a laugh. A little cough came out this time around. I decided to give humour a rest for a while.

  ‘I saw Meg!’ I began. ‘She was getting on a tram—’

  ‘So you jumped off the top of a bus? What were you hoping to do, Pete? What were you thinking?’

  ‘I’d have been alright if it wasn’t for that bloody cyclist. The speed of him. Did anybody catch him?’

  ‘No, like a good citizen he went racing off, according to the ambulance crew. Nobody appears to have seen what happened.’

  ‘What if I’d been an old dear or a child? Would the bastard have stopped then? These cycling buggers act like they own the place. He was going pretty fast.’

  ‘Are you sure it was Meg, Pete? Did you get a good look?’

  I thought it through. Yes, I knew my wife, even from a distance. The way she moved, her smile. She’d looked happy. She was at ease with the young guy. Had she found somebody else?

  ‘It was Meg,’ I answered. ‘Without a doubt. She looked good. Happy. She had a child with her and she was with a young guy. He was helping her onto the tram with the pram. They were chatting, and she was smiling.’

  ‘Well, at least we know that much. She’s definitely around. It’s only a matter of time until you run into her again. Hopefully it won’t involve stunts next time.’

  ‘I’ve hurt my leg again, you know. It’s where I messed it up last time. I can feel it playing up. I thought it had healed properly, but it’s painful again now. I hope it’s not going to start giving me aggro – I thought I was done with that.’

  ‘I’ve got some news of my own,’ Alex said.

  I could see that she was eager to share what she’d found out. She’d been hanging onto it, no doubt urging me to wake up.

  ‘This is where Meg had the baby – in the maternity wing. While you were sleeping I went exploring and got talking to a nurse down there. He came up to me – he recognised me from the programme. It was handy. He was speaking to me as if he knew me. I did a bit of probing. It turns out he was on shift that night. She was here as Megan Stewart; she’s using her birth name again. He clocked Meg because he thought he knew her – he’d seen her picture in the papers. It’s a boy, apparently. He hadn’t been given a name, not one that he could recall.’

  ‘Wow, you’ve done well. So she has a boy. I wonder if he’s mine. Was the baby prone to accidents and extremely good-looking? If he is, he has to be mine.’

  I was attempting humour again, but I actually wanted to cry. Meg had a baby, though I knew that already. The past came surging back. Was he my child or Jem’s? Jem, my best friend, who’d drugged my wife, then had sex with her. He was dead in the ground now, but it all came back when Alex mentioned the baby: the hatred for Jem and the loss of my best friend at work; the frustration and anger about what had happened to Meg, and the pain of the past year. So much had happened. I tried to make light of it, but it was taking its toll. All I wanted was to see my wife again, and I wanted to know if I was a father.

  I could feel my eyes reddening. I forced back the tears. I’m not prone to crying, but I felt overwhelmed. I’d been so close to seeing Meg, yet she’d slipped through my fingers again.

  ‘Sorry, I thought you’d be pleased to hear that, Pete.’

  ‘I am,’ I replied. ‘Honestly, I am. Did they give me any drugs? I feel really emotional.’

  ‘Not that I know of. I can’t blame you if you’re feeling upset though. Are you ready for a bit more news? You might want to steel yourself first.’

  ‘Is it about Meg?’ I asked.

  I tried to settle down. I was anxious to hear her news.

  ‘My chat with Bob was fruitful. He and Tom were leant on heavily. I mean, big time. They were under a lot of pressure to rescind their claims. In the end, they did.’

  ‘What do you mean? You’re talking about the inquiry now, yes? Who did the leaning?’

  ‘Bob said it was horrible. It was Tony Dodds and Russell Black. They got to Tom first and threatened him over the girls, told him they’d make some horrible accusation about Tom abusing them. They’d say he was using the inquiry to cover it up and place the blame elsewhere.’

  ‘Those guys are a piece of work,’ I said. ‘What did they do to Bob?’

  ‘Let’s put it this way: he escaped with his life and got the job as a lollipop man as a consolation prize. They had him grabbed off the street one night and dangled from the top of the tower. Can you imagine how scary that was?’

  ‘Who did? Not Dodds and Black, surely?’

  ‘No, a couple of hoodlums is how he described them. It was right in front of his wife too. He said a car drew up, two guys got out, threw him in the back, and left his wife standing on the pavement. They must have had access to the tower – it was late at night. He says they each held an ankle and hung him over the edge. They told him to keep his mouth shut and follow Tom’s lead. When he got home, his son had been arrested on suspicion of stealing school property. He got the message. He dropped his claims and the inquiry collapsed. His son was let off with a caution.’

  ‘All this happened in Blackpool? It’s unbelievable. Those guys must have owned the town back then.’

  ‘They did. Bob said that if it hadn’t been for his son, he’d have carried on. But once they got to his kid, he was terrified. He knew there was no beating them. They offered him the job on a school crossing patrol and he kept his mouth shut. He hates himself for it, Pete. Every day, he said, he curses them for what they did. He was pleased that Tony Dodds and Ray Matiz had got their comeuppance – he’d have liked to have strangled them himself.’

  I was allowed out of hospital the following morning, after the doctors had done their rounds. I felt as if I’d been there forever. Alex had returned for the evening visiting session too. She’d booked into a nearby hotel to save taking taxis across town.

  ‘You’ll have to stop buying your clothes in Blackpool,’ I laughed at her. ‘This is the second time I’ve seen you in an I Love Blackpool T-shirt.’

  ‘Yeah, only now it’s a sweatshirt because it’s so damn cold out there.’

  I was sore, but fine. The worst thing about being discharged was keeping my arse in the gown that they’d given me while I walked along the corridor. Why do they do that? Can’t the NHS get someone like Stella McCartney to do a makeover on those gowns? My trousers were torn and bloody. I’d have to go home to get changed. I looked like a tramp. Alex took the mickey. I’d have expected nothing less.

  I was told to take it easy for a few days and given a list of symptoms to be wary of. It was good to be out of that place. I’d seen far too many medical professionals in the past year.

  Alex and I sat in the hospital grounds. She called a taxi while I turned on my phone. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone twenty-four hours without checking it. I’d turned it off while doing the radio interview with June Dodds. The battery was still fine, so I could at least catch up with events while we waited for our transport.

  ‘I’ll have to get my car sorted out,’ I said, remembering for the first time that it was abandoned at Lytham St Annes.

  ‘It can wait for now,’ Alex said. ‘You’re not running off over there to mess around with your car. Leave it. It’ll be fine.’

  She had a point. I waited for my phone to find the signal and then the messages started to come in.

  ‘Oh shit. DCI Summers is pissed off with me because I didn’t turn up for my meeting. I’d better let her know what happened. Hannah has been in touch too. There are several Skype messages. That’s interesting – they still have her Skype location as the UK. Is that determined by your settings or does it follow you round wherever you are?’

  Alex shrugged.

  ‘What am I, an IT expert? I don’t know. I’ve never paid much attention. I’ll see if I can find out online.’

  She tapped at her phone and I read my messages. Hannah seemed keen to know what was going on. She was anxious for a chat over Skype. She’d tried me sev
eral times.

  Are you online, Pete?

  Hi Pete, you’re showing as offline, are you there?

  Hi Pete, keen to chat, let me know when you’re connected. Hannah.

  I’m in the UK on business atm. Keen to catch up. Where are you living now?

  That was a lot of messages. I tapped in a reply telling her that I’d get connected asap, and letting her know that I was in Blackpool. I thought I’d told her that already in one of our occasional catch-up chats, but I didn’t want her booking rail tickets to the wrong place. It was only fair that I told her about Meg. She’d want to hear that news.

  ‘I have to call Mark at work,’ I said. ‘Did you tell him what had happened? They need to know where I am.’

  Alex looked sheepish.

  ‘No, sorry, I didn’t think. They’re journalists. If they’d wondered where you were, they’d have known to make hospital check calls.’

  I was on the phone to work when the taxi finally arrived. My interview with June Dodds had caused a bit of a sensation. Our altercation was all over the papers. Mark was very excited by it. I was the hero of the hour, and they’d had good feedback from the other press outlets. He wished me well and told me to take a couple of days off to recover.

  ‘If we get more exclusive interviews, I might need you to limp back in though. You’re a bit of a celebrity round here at the moment. Can you do an interview from your deathbed?’

  It was good to know that my colleagues were so concerned about my health.

  Alex and I got in the taxi and didn’t talk on the way home. I had too much running through my mind; I needed to get it all straight. We pulled up outside the flat. I got a sinking feeling at the thought of being home. You’re not supposed to feel that way about the place where you live. I promised myself that I’d hand my notice in. Perhaps I could take a loan and shuffle my finances around.

  ‘I’ve just remembered. It’s a year to the day since I last saw Meg. I can’t believe it,’ I said. ‘Ever feel you’re being punished for something?’

  There was a large brown envelope among the post pile addressed to me. It was full of letters. The estate agent was still forwarding my mail from home.

  ‘At least the phantom post-opener didn’t get to it first,’ I said. I tore open the envelope as we walked up the stairs and took a quick look through it.

  ‘Usual rubbish. Why do they keep sending this shit?’

  My leg was sore after the climb up the stairs, so I sat on the settee and took a second look at the post. I spilled the contents of the larger envelope to my side and sifted through the contents. There was a postcard in there, from Blackpool. It was a picture of the tower of all places.

  I turned it over. Meg’s handwriting. She’d sent it to the house. Of course she would. She didn’t know where I living. She’d have known that it would have got to me if she sent it there. I looked at the postmark. Damn, it had been sent over a week beforehand. The estate agent had hung onto it before forwarding the pile of mail. I read the message. I hardly dared to look at the words. I was terrified of what news they might contain. I’d waited a year for this, now it had come, I almost didn’t want to read it.

  Pete, I hope you’re well. I saw what happened. The police spoke to me. I’m sorry I didn’t reach out, I wasn’t ready. Things have changed. We need to speak. Can you meet me at Ivy’s in the town centre, next Wednesday at 11am. I need to introduce you to somebody special. I’m sorry Pete, I really am. Meg x

  My eyes began to well up. Had they given me something in that hospital? I’d been really emotional over the past day.

  ‘What?’ Alex asked, sensing that something was up. ‘What is it, Pete?’

  ‘It’s Meg,’ I said, looking up at her. ‘She’s got in touch at last. She wanted to meet me in town last Wednesday. This postcard took so long to get to me, I’ve missed it. Now I’m no further forward.’

  Chapter Twelve

  1993 Thomas Yates didn’t return to work. He was driven back to Blackpool in the dead of night. Tony Dodds and Russell Black chatted between themselves as if he wasn’t there.

  Tony Dodds was expert in the art of intimidating without evidence. He knew the police procedures in intricate detail. Thomas Yates had experienced a draining evening of violence and aggression, but he’d barely been touched. He’d got the message alright. He’d feared for his life while dangling over the top of that rocky ledge. He would be no good to Meg and Hannah if he died – he couldn’t protect them then. He had to stay alive, buy time and think it through.

  It seemed to take an age to reach the M55. Thomas had never travelled much. Flights abroad were expensive, not for the likes of him and Mavis. He was happy in Blackpool. He’d been born and grown up there and had no desire to travel further afield. The sight of the illuminated tower in the distance comforted and soothed him as they drove into the outskirts of the town.

  Thomas was let out of the car along the promenade. There was no door-to-door service for him, and no further conversation. Tony Dodds looked up into the rear-view mirror as they pulled up along the seafront.

  ‘Remember what we said. This is your first and only warning. Get out!’

  Thomas stepped out into the road and moved to the side, out of the way of the traffic, mainly taxis running up and down the seafront. It was late at night. There were still people around, many of them drunk. Thomas walked along the road a little way, unsure what to do next. He heard a revving behind him and turned to see the reverse lights of the car. It took a few seconds for him to realise what the men were doing, but he turned to run the minute that he did. The clutch was released and the car shot backwards, hurtling towards him at speed. He thought it was going to hit him. He hadn’t yet made it to the pavement – he couldn’t make his legs work fast enough.

  The sound of heavy revving was replaced by the screech of brakes. The car boot bumped him, but not enough to send him flying. Thomas crumpled to the ground, his heart ready to explode with the shock. The car had stopped short. They’d only intended to scare him.

  They drove off slowly, like a Sunday driver. A taxi sounded its horn at Thomas, who was now sitting in the road, and swerved to avoid him. The driver pulled up alongside and opened his window.

  ‘Get out the bloody road, you pisshead!’ he shouted, before driving off.

  Thomas stood up with difficulty and headed over to a nearby bench. He sat down and checked himself for cuts and bruises. There was nothing. He was fine. It was inside his head that the damage was done.

  He watched a couple kissing across the road in a shop entrance. The man had his hand up the woman’s short skirt and even from that distance Thomas could see that he was working her knickers down, ready for a knee trembler on the seafront. He stood up and walked to the next bench. He didn’t want his soul-searching to be punctuated by the grunts of a couple who’d got lucky in a local nightclub. Neither did he wish to be a spectator.

  He looked at his watch. It was way past midnight, closer to one o’clock. Being out of season, it was quieter than it would have been in the summer months. Would there be witnesses? It wouldn’t matter. Tony Dodds would stifle any complaint that he dared to make. How do you complain about the police if your complaint is about the man who runs them? Thomas wanted to cry with frustration. He saw himself headed off at every pass. And he could lose the girls, that much was clear.

  What had been going on at the home? Did he really know? He’d seen them taking the children out that night. It was too late to be any regular activity. He’d seen Meg and Hannah. They’d been like animals going to slaughter, accepting their fate because there was nothing that they could do. He’d heard Gary Maxwell talking to Meg after she’d fainted. Not every word, but he’d got the sense of it. He didn’t need to hear the words to know that it had been threatening.

  But the girls would say nothing. He knew they were happy living with him and Mavis. It was obvious that they didn’t want to go back into care. If he did give evidence with Bob Taylor, there would be more of t
his. He could lose the girls. If they went back to the home, whatever had happened to them, whatever they were doing to them, would it continue? He sensed what was going on. He hadn’t seen it first hand, but something terrible must have driven those poor boys to kill themselves.

  Thomas was not a brave man. He’d never been exposed to this level of threat before. The last time he’d felt remotely intimidated was back at school when the classroom thug had cornered him and stolen his dinner money. What Tony Dodds and Russell Black were doing was something completely different. These men could wreck their lives.

  Thomas got up and walked along the promenade in the direction of his home. The man and the women had finished and the woman was hooking her knickers over her left foot ready to walk away from the scene of their romantic encounter. Thomas waited until he was well clear of them, and then crossed the road, ready to make the winding journey through the streets and back to the house. Mavis would be awake, worried, but assuming that he’d got delayed by some boiler problem or leaking pipe that had taken him over his shift times.

  He couldn’t bring himself to talk to her when he returned home. She was dozing with the bedside lamp still on.

  ‘Hi luv, you’re late. Did you have a problem?’

  ‘Just the boiler again, dear. You know what it’s like. Sorry for not calling you. I was up to my ears in boiler parts. It was hard to get away.’

  ‘It’s alright, luv. Come to bed and we can chat tomorrow.’

  She was asleep within seconds. Thomas got undressed and slipped into bed, putting his arm around her. It wasn’t only the girls that he had to think about. Mavis would never forgive him if they lost them now. He’d seen how she’d flourished since they’d moved in. He hadn’t realised how sad it had made her over the years not having their own kids in the house. Meg and Hannah had changed everything. Did he really want to put all that at risk?