Lost Souls

by Neil White

  ‘Thomas, stop!’ I shouted.

  The town was suddenly loud below us, cars driving under the arches, music coming from a nearby pub. I heard someone shout. Thomas stumbled forward and fell onto the wall. Laura pulled back hard, but I fell with him. The air was knocked out of me, my head just over the edge. The town below me swirled; there was nothing between me and the ground. I let go of Thomas and tried to scramble backwards, but Laura was still holding on to his arm. He was trying to go over the edge, kicking out at Laura. He caught her in the face and she winced, but then she jammed her heels into the gravel and screeched with effort, but she skidded and was pulled with him.

  Thomas screamed, loud in the night, and then threw himself forward. Laura screamed with him as she held on to his arm.

  He went over the edge. She was slammed into the wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her as her ribs took both their weight. But she held on to him.

  Thomas’s legs kicked into the air, nothing underneath them except a hundred feet of air and the hardness of the road.

  Laura shrieked and gripped harder, trying to lean backwards. I leaned forward to try to grab Thomas’s other arm, to help her take the strain. The streetlights became a blur, but Laura mustn’t go with him. I could feel her slipping, her arm bent over the top of the wall. Laura glanced at me, a desperate look.

  I reached out into space and grabbed his arm with one hand, feeling my stomach lurch as my knees slipped on the wall and I felt myself fall forward. Laura screamed ‘No!’ I grabbed the edge with my free hand. He was swinging and kicking, trying to wriggle free.

  We were straining to hold on to him.

  ‘Thomas, don’t do it,’ I shouted. ‘Come back up. Explain yourself

  Thomas didn’t answer, but then after a few seconds, I felt his struggles stop. He swung in our arms for a few seconds, and then I heard him shout, ‘Help me,’ his voice desperate.

  Laura pulled backwards hard, and I went with her, kneeling on top of the wall, just one hand gripped to the edge to stop me from falling.

  He was heavy. I could feel my fingers slipping on the wall. Then I realised that his hand had gripped my sleeve. If he fell, he was going to take me with him.

  I looked at Jimmy, a desperate plea. He didn’t move.

  ‘Thomas! Jam your feet into the wall,’ I shouted, gasping.

  ‘I’m trying,’ Thomas shrieked.

  He was twisting and spinning in our grip. Laura was straining to hold on, but then he shouted, ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it.’

  His weight was taken up by his feet against the viaduct wall, his shoes finding a minute ledge, maybe just a crack in a stone.

  ‘We’ll start to pull you,’ said Laura, her teeth gritted.

  We both leaned backwards and I felt Thomas get higher. I was able to slide down to the track, still holding on to his arm.

  Laura turned back towards Sam and shouted, ‘Help us!’

  He didn’t move.

  ‘Sam!’

  The streetlights caught him hugging his son, but it didn’t seem like he’d heard.

  She shouted back to Thomas, ‘We’re going to pull you up,’ the words coming out in gasps. ‘Find a foot-hold, help us, clamber up. We’ll take your weight.’

  Thomas didn’t answer at first, but then I heard a quiet, ‘Let me go.’ There was another pause, and then he shouted louder, ‘Let me go!’

  He started to thrash around in our arms. Laura slipped towards Thomas, sent some small stones over the edge. We didn’t hear them hit the ground. I was jolted around, and I heard Laura’s feet skid in the gravel.

  ‘Hold on,’ I hissed at her. ‘Don’t you dare go over with him.’

  Laura leaned back. I gritted my teeth with exertion, all the time my arms were being pulled around as Thomas tried to free himself, and pulled hard.

  Laura took a step backwards.

  ‘C’mon!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t let it be his way.’

  Thomas’s head appeared at the top of the wall. His face was red, his eyes frightened. We started to pull backwards again, dragging his chest across the top of the wall, and then his knees.

  We relaxed for a moment, panting, and then we felt a sudden movement. Thomas was trying to get to his feet on the wall. He pulled Laura towards him, and then he roared with the effort and stood up, his head back, his arms stretched out in front of him, straining against our grip. Then he leaned back.

  ‘You save people, don’t you?’ Thomas said, the words coming out in exhausted gulps.

  ‘Not now,’ replied Laura, her feet against the wall, her voice hoarse with effort. She had her hand around his wrist. I tried to yank him, but he was strong.

  ‘That’s why we’re the same, you and I,’ he said quietly. ‘We save people.’

  Laura started to screech with effort. ‘Thomas, no!’

  ‘C’mon, Thomas, stop it!’ I yelled. I turned round to Jimmy. ‘Help us!’ My feet were losing grip in the gravel.

  Jimmy looked at me for a second, and then at his son. He took a deep breath, and he shook his head. I thought I saw a tear. And then he turned and started to walk away.

  ‘King!’ I screamed after him. ‘It’s your son.’

  Then Laura screamed. ‘No, Thomas!’

  I looked along her arm and I saw that he was trying to pull his arm out of Laura’s grip. She was struggling to hold onto him. Her hands were slick with sweat, and they slipped towards his wrist.

  Laura lunged to grab at him. I went with her, saw the ground flash up at me as I leaned over, the lines on the road, the gardens of nearby houses, it all swirled around below as I felt the air knocked out of me as my ribs hit the wall. I lost my grip.

  Laura screamed as she tried to pull Thomas back. But he was leaning backwards, making her grip take his entire weight. I heard Laura scream again and I could see her fingers start to slip.

  ‘I just wanted you to see that you could have stopped it, but failed,’ he said.

  ‘Let him go,’ I shouted. I couldn’t grab him. He was leaning back over the drop. I grabbed hold of her waist, just to make sure she didn’t go with him.

  Laura shook her head, straining to hold on to him. I saw desperation in her eyes. I looked at Thomas. He was smiling. He leaned back, one hand free, splayed outwards, his eyes looking upwards. Laura’s hand began to slide over his hand, her grip loosening, her eyes screwed up with the effort.

  ‘Sam!’ she screeched, asking for help. Still Sam didn’t move.

  I heard her cry out, a moan, desperate. I watched his fingers slip through her grip, her hand slick with sweat. Then she flew backwards as she finally let go, landing hard on the gravel, me alongside her.

  Laura wailed. I looked up. For a moment, Thomas just seemed to hang there, leaning back, nothing beneath him but the ground. Gravity had no effect; time slowed down. I saw him smile. He put his arms out, crucifixion-style, and looked upwards. Then he started to fall.

  I shuddered as I heard the impact, a thud and a crack as he hit the road. There was silence for a moment. And then we heard the screams from the people below.

  I put my head down on the wall. I was panting with exertion, with fear. Laura seemed distraught, as if she had failed. Then I felt her arms go over me, and she began to sob, and I could tell this time that her tears were different. They were tears of relief.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Laura woke me with a start, made me jump.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She sat up, put her head on her knees, sucked in breaths hard.

  ‘Laura, what’s wrong?’

  She looked round, and then after a few sharp breaths, she laughed softly to herself.

  ‘Just a dream,’ she said, and then she lay back. ‘It was about Bobby,’ she said. ‘He wasn’t there, had been taken away from me.’

  I put my arm over her. ‘That won’t happen,’ I said.

  Laura winced when my hand touched her swollen cheek, the result of Thomas King’s blows. ‘How is your face?’ I asked.
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br />   ‘Not ready for you yet, if that’s what you mean.’

  I laughed and pulled her closer to me.

  We were in our own bed, and the excitement of the previous few days seemed like a different lifetime.

  It was Sunday morning. I had spent the whole of Saturday writing a feature. I had worked out an exclusive with one of the big Sundays, the fee large enough to get us through the next year. Laura had spent the day in briefings. She’d let Egan take some credit. She hadn’t minded. He’d at least let her follow the trail when others might have said no. He hadn’t said much to her, but she spotted the look of gratitude afterwards.

  It was Mary Randle’s face that I had enjoyed the most, though. She looked like we’d given her father back to her. He was no longer the child-killer who’d taken the coward’s way out. He was the victim, and with that, Mary no longer had to be ashamed.

  ‘So what next?’ I asked.

  ‘We’re going to relax,’ Laura whispered. ‘Bobby will be back from Geoff’s later, so let’s just enjoy some peace.’ She looked at me. ‘Do you think there’ll ever be a quiet time in Lancashire?’

  I stroked her hair. ‘It’s actually quite boring up here. Once things settle down, you’ll miss this excitement.’

  She nestled back into my chest. ‘I’d like boring,’ she said, ‘just for a while.’

  Harry was looking out of his window when Sam walked into his office. Sam knew he would be there, even on a Sunday. As he looked round, Sam held up an envelope.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said.

  ‘My resignation,’ Sam replied.

  Harry turned back to the window.

  ‘So is that it?’ asked Sam.

  ‘What do you want?’ said Harry, turning round. ‘This firm will go on. There are plenty more Sam Nixons out there.’

  Sam threw the envelope onto the desk. ‘Go fuck yourself, Harry,’ and then he went to leave the room.

  Before he got to the door, he heard Harry say, ‘I’m sorry.’

  Sam stopped. ‘What did you say?’

  Harry sat at his desk. He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Sam. I made a mistake a few years ago, got myself in too deep to help a friend.’

  ‘If he was a real friend, he wouldn’t have asked.’

  Harry waved that away. ‘I can live with my mistake. If that makes me a bad person, so be it. But I shouldn’t have dragged Henry into it. For that, I’m sorry.’

  ‘It almost cost Henry his life.’

  Harry looked down at that. Sam saw him take a breath and compose himself.

  ‘I know that,’ he said quietly.

  ‘But even when Henry was in danger,’ Sam continued, his eyes blazing, ‘you still wouldn’t give into him. Do you know what sort of person that makes you?’

  Harry steepled his fingers under his nose. ‘The police are investigating the story Terry gave. If they think they can build a case, they’ll arrest me.’

  Sam smiled, but there was little pleasure in his eyes. ‘You’ll go to prison.’

  ‘I grew up in the Four Gables. I’ll survive.’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Things are different now. You’ve gone soft, and people have got meaner.’

  Sam went for the door again. As he got there, he heard Harry ask, ‘How’s Helena? And Henry?’

  As Sam shut the door, he said, ‘Better—no thanks to you.’

  * * *

  Laura and I were standing in our doorway, waiting for Bobby to come back. She had her arms wrapped around me, her face buried into my jumper. I could smell her hair, warm, soft, just her. The sun shone over the fields, the remnants of the morning dew making the grass twinkle. The breeze was fresh and clean.

  I looked along the lane as I heard the rumble of a car. When it stopped, I felt Laura pull away from me. Then I heard a familiar shout. It was Bobby.

  He ran through the gate and into Laura’s arms, screaming with delight as she whirled him round, his feet kicking outwards.

  Geoff appeared at the gate. He had a half-smile on his lips, but the look in his eyes was hostile.

  Laura turned back towards him. ‘Do you want a drink before you go back?’

  He looked back towards his car, and then at our house. He nodded, looking at me all the time. ‘Okay,’ he said.

  Laura went past me, holding on to Bobby, and I saw the delight in her eyes. In Bobby’s too.

  I went back into the house. Bobby ran up the stairs to his bedroom, to get a toy to show Geoff. Laura went with him, wanting to hear the tale of his weekend in London.

  I heard Geoff wipe his feet on the mat. He was a visitor, he knew that.

  As I filled the kettle, I heard Geoff come into the kitchen.

  ‘I’ve read about your fun,’ he said tersely. ‘How do you think Bobby would have reacted if you got his mother killed?’

  I turned around. ‘It wasn’t down to me. It was police work. You know how it is.’

  He scowled. ‘It shouldn’t work like that, not around my son.’ He reached into his pocket and put a brown envelope on the worktop. ‘You lovebirds might want to read that.’

  I looked at it. It was small, with an address window, official looking. Addressed to Jack Garrett and Laura McGanity.

  ‘What is it?’

  Geoff grinned at me. ‘Open it.’

  I slipped my finger under the flap slowly and opened it. It was a letter. As I looked at the letterhead, I realised it was from a firm of solicitors, family law specialists. As I read, I could hear Laura laughing with Bobby.

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ I hissed at him.

  ‘Bobby is going to come to live with me,’ he said. ‘Read the letter. You can either agree, or I go to court.’

  ‘How did you get this done over the weekend?’

  He smirked. ‘I have friends.’

  ‘Bobby should be with his mother,’ I said, my voice low, trying not to let Laura hear.

  Geoff’s smirk turned into a sneer. ‘He can be with his mother. Back in London, near his family, grandparents and uncles and cousins. If Laura moves back to London, I’ll drop the application.’

  ‘You bastard!’

  He nodded at me. ‘You better believe it.’

  We both turned round when we heard Laura come into the room.

  ‘Are you boys getting on?’ she said, Bobby giggling in her arms.

  I looked at the letter again, and knew how much it would hurt her.

  I slipped the letter into my pocket. I didn’t want Laura to see it just yet. Let her enjoy Bobby for a while first. Too many children had been taken from their mothers.

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to all those people who have offered support and encouragement in my writing endeavours so far. I know who you are.

  The staff at the Crown Prosecution Service in Burnley have been very accommodating to me, and even one or two defence lawyers have said kind things, although they were the briefest of moments.

  The last year has been very busy, with the release of Fallen Idols and the writing of Lost Souls, but I know how hard the people at Avon have worked to make the former a success and to bring Lost Souls to life. For that I am grateful, and in particular my gratitude goes to both Maxine Hitchcock and Keshini Naidoo, who have consistently given encouragement, sound advice, and, above all else, good company.

  My agent, Sonia Land, has been a source of constant support, and knowing that there is someone there to offer not only advice, but the right advice, is a great comfort.

  As I’ve said, the last twelve months have been exceptionally busy. If I wasn’t writing, I was working, and if I was doing neither, I was doing author visits, or radio interviews, or library visits. I have met some very nice people on my travels, and I hope we meet again, but in the background during all of this has been Alison, my wife. She has had to bear the brunt of my distraction, and she knows how grateful I am for that. I promise it will get better…

  About the Author

  Born above
a shoe shop in the mid-1960s, Neil White spent most of his childhood in Wakefield in West Yorkshire as his father pursued a career in the shoe trade. This took Neil to Bridlington in his teens, where he failed all his exams and discovered that doing nothing soon turns into long-term unemployment. Re-inventing himself, Neil returned to education in his twenties, qualified as a solicitor when he was 30, and now spends his days in the courtroom as a Criminal Prosecutor and his evenings writing crime fiction. His debut novel, Fallen Idols, has been widely acclaimed.