by Lee Harding
“Mr Hull, my mother let me believe my father abandoned us when we were little. That he went away on business and never came back. Then out of the blue he visited me and my sister when I was eight and jumped in and out of our lives for the next ten years. I barely knew him and by the end of his life I didn’t really care.
“Recently something happened that has prompted me to go against my better wishes and dig up his past, if you excuse the expression. My mother told me he was arrested and sent to prison and that he was given a sentence of ten years.”
“And you’re here to find out why?”
Alana nodded her head and swallowed.
“I have something for you.” Gavin leaned under his desk. Alana heard the sound of a safe being opened. He pulled with a grunt and dropped a bulky folder two inches thick.
“Your father wanted you to have this but only when you came looking for it.”
“What’s in it?”
“Cameron Faith’s soul; both good and bad.”
He snapped off an old elastic band that kept the contents together and opened the cover.
“The first half relates to the crimes he committed before you and your sister were born. I will warn you, they are not pleasant. There’s a transcript of his initial police interview along with the charges he plead guilty to. The interviews of the victims are also included.”
Gavin handed her the folder using both hands. Despite herself, Alana couldn’t stop her arms from trembling. She began to read. Gavin sat back and stared up at the ceiling. The full set of charges amounted to twenty and as she feared related to her two aunts, Helen and Heather. Alana felt faint.
“Could I have that drink of water, please?”
“Of course.”
Gavin jumped up and went into the back. He returned with a polystyrene cup and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said and sipped. Gavin squatted beside her.
“Alana, this is upsetting. The details of what your father did will be even more so. Don’t feel you need to burden yourself with them now if you don’t want to.”
“Now, later; it doesn’t matter much, does it?” she said. “My Mum was right, he was a bad man.”
Gavin shook his head. “Cameron was a good man who happened to do some bad things. None of this will be easy to take in but I feel I need to tell you about the person I knew.”
Alana set the water down and gave him her full attention. Her head was swimming but she tried hard to concentrate.
“I knew Cameron a few years before you were born. We had a mutual friend and I found out he worked with computers. I needed someone to help me bring this place into the twenty-first century and he agreed to help.
“Cameron came over one night and we talked into the wee hours about everything from philosophy to his computer games business and the state of law and disorder. Your mother gave him a right telling off when he got home, as I recall. We became quite close after that meeting up every week for a drink.
“Then one evening I received a phone call. Cameron was in a police holding cell. He’d been arrested and needed me, his solicitor, to be present. I was in shock as we sat and he confessed what he had done. Sadly, he didn’t have the courage to hand himself in or to speak with his wife, your mother.”
“So he was a coward as well,” Alana said.
“Try not to judge him. Your father was a decent man who, believe it or not, truly loved your mother. He did what he did for reasons known only to him and I suppose Sheena Edison, his counsellor, who helped support him during prison. I know he despised what he did and the impact it had. As I recall he went inside before Paula was born and only met her five years later. That is pain I would not wish anyone to bear.”
“What about our pain?” Alana said sitting up. “What about my aunties and everything that happened to them? What about my Mum who was left as a single parent and give birth to a daughter on her own? He didn’t give a damn about any of us, did he?”
Gavin’s voice was quiet as he replied. “When I visited him in prison he told me your family’s pain lay heavy on his heart. Every day was torment. In there is not like how’s it portrayed in the press, especially for what he did. It was a living hell but Cameron knew he deserved it. His reason to survive was to one day finally meet his beloved daughters. Even when your mother divorced him and refused any contact, not even allowing him a single photograph, he never lay down. His sole reason to live was you.”
Alana clenched her fist but said nothing. Instead she turned her attention to the file on her lap. “What else is in here?”
“As I said, Cameron Faith’s soul. While in prison he kept a journal. Some of that is included in there. Also, your father was a keen author and wrote several novels during his time inside, many of which were specifically for his daughters. One of them was titled The Ebony Chest. He gave it to you when you first met at the Social Services centre. But your mother wouldn’t allow any correspondence, not even a book, so it’s remained here, awaiting the day you would come to read it.”
“I don’t want to read it.”
“I understand and if I were in the same position it would be the last gift I would cherish. All I ask is you don’t destroy anything in there. Perhaps over time you may change your mind.”
Alana shut the folder and stood up. The dizziness was gone, eclipsed by resentment.
“Thank you for your time and the water, Mr Hull. I’d best be getting on if I want to catch the train home before the curfew.”
Gavin Hull checked his watch. “But it’s near 5.30pm. Can’t you get a taxi? I wouldn’t want you to travel home alone in the dark especially with all the violence.”
“Don’t worry about me. My father wasn’t the only survivor in my family.”
Gavin smiled. “I can see that. I didn’t want to say but it’s remarkable how much you resemble him. Except for your hair. That’s certainly from your mother’s side.”
Alana was unsure whether to say thanks or not. “I’ll call my sister to pick me up. I need to see her anyway to talk about this.” She held up the folder.
“Don’t be too hasty would be my advice. If your sister lives this side of the Thames then I can offer you a lift if you wish. I was going to stay and do some accounting but the bloody bank website says my balance has been frozen. Ruddy computers.”
Alana hadn’t the heart to tell him the website was correct and all his money had been locked by Wreckoning. There was six days to the end of civilisation so what did it matter?
“If it’s no trouble I’d appreciate the ride.”
“Good. Let me turn this thing off then we can go.”
As Gavin shut down his PC Alana felt the weight of her father’s folder drag down her heart. Finally she had learned the truth but was she ready to uncover the sordid details?
Chapter 17
21st November 17:02
Alana held onto Gavin Hull’s briefcase with one hand and her father’s secrets in the other as the security shutters lowered. The tail end of dusk settled to the west as night enveloped the clear London sky. Gavin zipped up his coat as they set off along the deserted street.
The only businesses that remained open were off-licenses and corner shops. Custom was scarce. At the entrance to the car park they were halted by the attendant.
“You’re lucky. We were about to lock up.”
Gavin fished out his ticket and handed the man some money. “Keep the change,” he said.
They crossed to the elevator to ride to the fourth floor. Gavin was unsure whether to turn left or right and held his keys in the air. The bleep and double-indicator flash led the way. Alana opened the passenger door of the Volvo Estate to find the seat covered in empty fast-food cartons.
“Throw all that on the floor,” Gavin said as he flung his briefcase into the back.
Alana was glad she was wearing gloves as the remains of a Big Mac dropped out. She slid the wilting lettuce and greying mayonnaise back into the container and placed it on the mat. A plastic ba
g made an ample seat covering. Once they were strapped in, Gavin snaked his way down to the ground floor.
As they waited for a police car to pass the attendant shouted out from his kiosk: “Be careful going home. It said on the radio there’s trouble to the south.”
“Where does your sister live again?” Gavin said waving his thanks.
“North of Greenwich. Which is south.”
“I had to choose tonight to be a Good Samaritan.”
“Mr Hull, please, you don’t need to drive me there. I can get the Tube, honestly...”
“Alana, I’m joking. There isn’t a chance I’d abandon my friend’s daughter. We’ll be fine.”
He pushed a few buttons on the satellite navigation screen and entered Paula’s home postcode as Alana recited it. The journey would take forty-three minutes.
“But it’s taking into account London rush-hour. If we’re lucky we can do it in less than half,” Gavin said.
And if we’re not lucky?
They trailed the police car which rode at a snail’s pace until the navigator ordered them to turn right at a set of lights. Pushing the speedometer up to fifty, Gavin concentrated on the road ahead. The number of vehicles diminished as they approached a low-lying bridge. It wasn’t until they emerged on the other side did they discover the reason why.
Pulsing blue lights blocked their way and Gavin pulled to a stop as a policeman in full riot gear flagged them down.
“This road’s blocked. You’ll need to reverse and find another route.”
“Is it bad?” Gavin said.
“They’ve already set fire to a bus. My advice is to stay clear of the south-east completely.”
Over the hum of the car’s engine Alana could distinctly hear shouting and it was growing louder. She struggled to see past the four police Land Rovers lined tightly together and loosened her seatbelt to sit up. Beyond the zebra crossing she saw a group of youths running towards them. Their faces were covered in skeleton masks and they had tied a Union Jack flag around their necks like a cape. Something fiery was flung into the air.
“Petrol bomb. Get down,” Alana yelled.
The policeman turned just as they exploded. Flames burst outwards in a circle to ignite the van’s roof. Another bomb smashed the wall of a residential home engulfing it. The final bomb erupted on the road.
The victorious yells of the youths were muted by the police firing baton rounds in response. One of the young men pirouetted as the plastic bullet smacked into his ribcage. He was left lying as the others turned and fled.
“Hold on,” Gavin shouted and jammed the car into reverse. They backed under the bridge and onto the road where Gavin spun the steering wheel as quickly as he could. Putting it into first, the screech and acrid stench of burning rubber filled Alana’s ears and nose as they sped off in the opposite direction.
“You are going the wrong way,” the navigator said coolly.
“Shut up.”
“I’ll get another route.” Alana reached out to tap the screen.
“Go left.”
“You better not be bringing us to another death trap,” Gavin yelled as he swung the vehicle hard.
The new journey avoided further violent hotspots although they passed a trail of devastation along the way. Alana stared in horror as three fire engines concentrated their full payload on a blazing department store. Their efforts were futile as the building collapsed in on itself. A massive section of the slate roof fell to shatter on the road as a dozen firemen vaulted out of the way. Alana saw one man fall and grab his side as a metal support beam stuck obscenely from his side.
Gavin swerved past and gunned the Volvo ignoring the sirens of the passing police cars and ambulances. As they left the city centre behind, Alana was relieved to see the suburbs embrace them, like a mother soothing her terrified child. But she couldn’t relax until the navigator announced:
“You have reached your destination.”
Gavin pulled to a halt by the driveway of a familiar detached house. With the unexpected detours the journey had lasted thirty-five minutes though it seemed an eternity.
“Thanks for the lift, Mr Hull.”
“It was my pleasure,” he said and laughed. They both laughed as the adrenaline started to dissipate. “And please, call me Gavin.”
“Thank you, Gavin. The curfew begins in an hour. Will you be able to get home by then?”
“Don’t worry about me. I used to Raleigh race when I was younger. It’s been years since I’ve driven like that and I must admit I’ve missed it. Anyway, I need to feed Ginger. She’s been on her own most of the day and has probably chewed the furniture to pieces.”
Assuming Ginger was a dog or cat and not some unstable relative, Alana reached out her hand and he shook it. As she was about to disembark Gavin called out:
“Please read all of your father’s file. Like the man himself, he had many facets to his life, some of which read better than others. I’ve left my mobile number in there if you need to talk but to be honest I seldom keep it turned on.”
Alana shut the door and walked up the bricked driveway before turning to wave him off. She held up the folder until it caught the glare of the orange street lights. Her heart sank. Tonight was destined to remain unpleasant.
Just as she was going to press the bell the lateness of the hour hit her so she knocked softly instead. Her nephew would be in bed by now. Paula’s Land Rover was parked in the drive but Craig’s Lexus was noticeable by its absence. A hall light clicked on and she watched her sister approach.
“Alana? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
Paula brought her inside. “How did you get here?”
“It’s a long story. Is Craig home?”
Paula stood straight and threw back her hair. “He phoned to say he’s with a friend, that it was too dangerous to get home.”
“He was right. It’s chaos out there.”
Alana detected an accusatory tone in her sister’s voice but declined to comment. Paula went to the window and drew back the ruffled curtain. “I don’t see a taxi out there. Who brought you?”
“A man called Gavin Hull.”
“Who’s that?”
“Our dearly departed father’s solicitor. I visited his office and he took pity on me and gave me a lift.”
“I didn’t know Dad had a solicitor. Was it about a will or something?”
Alana shook her head and held the folder tight against her chest. “Not quite. Do you mind if we sit down for a minute?”
“Sure.”
Paula led them into the main living room and muted the massive television. She motioned for her sister to take a seat. Alana knocked away some cuddly toys and collapsed onto the sofa. Paula talked as she walked into the kitchen.
“What’s so important that you had to visit Dad’s solicitor?”
Alana hadn’t fully made up her mind how to break the news. She flipped open the file and was confronted with the police charge sheet. She dry heaved and shut it again.
Paula returned with some coffee and noticed how white her sister’s face had become.
“Are you okay?”
She rested the mug on a coaster and knelt down beside her.
“I found out something about Cameron Faith that was kept from us.”
Paula squinted in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
There was no easy way to do this. She handed Paula the folder. “Here, read this.”
Paula took a seat and put the thick file on her knees. She studied Alana before opening it. Thirty seconds later she threw the papers onto the floor, knocking a squeaky duck into the wall.
“He did that? Our father did those terrible things? And to our aunts?” She began sobbing and buried her head into her hands. Alana was still reeling from the shock and didn’t have the presence of mind to comfort her. Moments of tearful tragedy wiled away. The rich aroma of crushed coffee beans made Alana instinctively reach for her drink and she sipped without s
aying a word. Eventually Paula wiped her tears away and reached for a box of tissues to blow her nose.
As if the revelation hadn’t happened she said, “I need to go and make up the spare room,” and left.
Alana continued to drink until the mug was empty. Her strength had abandoned her. She wanted to drift asleep and never wake up. The muted news testified to the lawlessness on the streets across Britain. Angry mobs had upturned hijacked police cars and swore at the cameras. Billions of pounds worth of damage already and it was one day since Wreckoning’s final condemnation.
She heard Paula tiptoeing down the stairs and walk into the living room.
“I’ve put fresh sheets on the bed.”
“Thanks.”
“I need a bath.”
As she was leaving Alana said, “Do you mind if I use your computer?”
Paula waved at her laptop and walked out the door.
Alana took her time to get up. She crossed the floor, stepping over her father’s soul, then stopped. A business card had fallen loose from the other documents. She scooped it up.
Sheena Edison B.Sc Hons Psychology.
It took a second for the name to click. My father’s counsellor when he was in prison. She picked up the laptop and sat down. Paula had been on YouTube watching riot videos from the street where Craig worked. She opened a new tab to open her email. There were no new messages. She clicked on the last one from [email protected] and hit reply.
Monster. Pervert. Criminal. Pig. Vile. Cruel.
She typed every rotten noun she could muster. Someone had led her to the most distressing discovery of her life as an act of cruelty. She imagined Cameron had many enemies after people found out what he had done. At the end she wrote:
No more games. Cameron Faith is gone and I’m glad he’s dead.
She hoped that something would act as a keyword to finally end the torture. The inbox flashed to indicate a new message had arrived. At first glance it looked identical but then she noticed some text underneath.