by M K Turner
“You know the answer to that, Henry. You did, you changed the rules.” Taking a final puff of her cigarette, she flicked the butt into the hedge surrounding the car park.
“How? What did I do?” Glancing at his watch, Henry knew he had only minutes to get changed. There was a club rule that if you didn’t train you had to have a cast-iron reason. If you didn’t, you didn’t make the squad for the next game. “I have to go.”
“You could stay.” Chelly loosened the top of her fur coat, and exposed her breasts. “We could have some fun. It’s a little chilly out here, but my car is around the corner. Have you ever had sex in a car, Henry?”
“Are you naked?” Shocked, Henry glanced over his shoulder checking no one was coming.
“Of course, I was coming to see you.” Giving a strained laugh, she walked forward until she was inches away. “Do you know, when my father kicked me out, he told me I was all fur coat and no knickers. Not true. I didn’t own a fur coat then, but it’s true, I do find the lack of knickers gives one a certain freedom. Once, I thought I’d show him. Show him I could find a good man, one that would settle down with me. That didn’t work out, too many liars in this world. Instead I have fun. I like having fun with you, Henry.”
Taking his hand, she placed it on her breast. “Oh, you are cold. It won’t take long to warm you up.” Forcing his hand lower, her coat fell open revealing she was naked as declared.
Clenching his hand into a fist, determined not to let it happen again, Henry tried to pull his hand free, but Chelly had a tight grip on it.
“It’s not going to happen. Let me go, you are making a total fool of yourself.”
“Really?” Pushing herself against him, so his hand was trapped between them, she started to thrust herself against his hand.
Stepping back, Henry pushed her away, she stumbled and ended up sitting on the floor.
“That wasn’t nice, you stupid boy.” Holding out a hand, her tone changed. “Help me up, please.”
Chelly sounded upset and Henry leaned forward to take her hand. Ignoring his hand, Chelly dropped back onto her elbows and opened her legs. She saw his look of amazement change to disgust, and hurt.
“You know you want to,” she taunted him. “Come on, Henry, let’s have some fun.”
Pulling his hand away, Henry shook his head. “You’re mad. Have you been drinking? You want me to shag you here in the car park for anyone to see? Go home. You’re a whore.”
He was a teenage boy, his hormones raged throughout his body, he was aroused, but determined not to give in to impulse, he turned away.
“A whore who will tell tales,” Chelly said. It was a statement not a question.
“You wouldn’t.” Henry kept walking.
“Henry, wait, I’ll do a deal with you.”
Turning, Henry watched her get to her feet. “What do you mean a deal?”
“Once more, for old times’ sake. And I’ll leave you alone.” Holding her coat open, she gyrated her hips. “I can see you want to.”
“How do I know you’ll keep your promise?”
“You don’t. But I’m not a liar, Henry, I think you know that. Come on, my car’s this way.”
Groaning, Henry followed her. When he returned to collect his bike twenty minutes later, he could hear from the shouts of his teammates, that the training session was well underway. Unlocking his bike, he fought back tears, cursing himself. How could he have been so weak? He’d not even enjoyed it that much. She was a witch and he hated her. He’d never hated anyone before.
Such was his emotional state, the usually observant Henry didn’t notice there were now another two bikes in the stand.
Chapter Twenty Four
Shutting the laptop, Angie was too tired to consider what she’d written any further. It was exhausting both seeing and feeling the emotions of the victims. Drained, she went to run herself a bath. While she waited, she looked in on Lily. Sleeping peacefully, Lily didn’t stir as her mother came into the room.
“Sleep well, my angel.” Kissing her fingertips, she touched Lily’s forehead. Resisting the urge to pick her up, Angie returned to the bathroom. For the first time since she’d found out about her ability, she understood why her mother tried to ignore it, and keep Angie from discovering it. It hurt to know that one day Lily would also feel the total and utter despair of someone communicating their last days.
Lowering her body into the warm water, Angie closed her eyes.
“Come on, Henry. Help me out here. Please. I need more than this. You have a son, a grandson, they and the two women that love you still, all wanting to know what happened.” The words were mouthed and not spoken aloud, and such was Angie’s concentration, trying to make contact with Henry, she didn’t hear Ryan open the door.
“Are you asleep again?” he teased, and then jumped back as Angie screamed.
Water sloshed onto the floor as she sat up holding her chest. “For God’s sake, Ryan. Don’t do that.”
“Sorry, sorry. But I could hardly have called out first. I would wake Lily. It’s not like I jumped out on you. Oh, bugger.” Turning away as Lily cried out, he tutted. “I’ll go. Next time I’ll stand in the hallway until you’re done.”
“Don’t be silly. You frightened me. Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.”
Wrapped in her robe, Angie found Ryan in the sitting room. He held out a glass of wine. “She didn’t really wake. Think you just startled her.”
“That’s good. I was miles away, trying to get Henry to give me a bit more help, so when you spoke, I thought . . . if I’m honest I thought this bearing witness thing had moved to a whole new level.” She allowed herself to grin. “I’m now glad it was you. How was the pub? You’re home earlier than I expected.”
“Yeah, okay. It was nice to see the lads. I even managed to win a game of pool.” He yawned. “They were going on for a curry, but I cried off. I’m knackered, this house husband stuff certainly takes it out of you.”
“Ah, now you appreciate how hard it is to work and be a caring, nurturing parent. About time. Shift up.” Angie snuggled into the crook of his arm. “I have to confess to being a little tired myself.”
“Well, we’ll drink this and go to bed. Did you get everything typed up? I’ll have a read.”
“Typed but not all of it’s printed. Not tonight, Ryan. I don’t want to discuss it, I want it all to settle in my head in the hope that something of some use comes to me. Mum and Gran are coming at ten thirty in the morning, so you can read it before they arrive. Is that okay?”
“Perfect. To be honest, I don’t think I could keep my eyes open.”
“Go on up. It’s silly to fall asleep here when there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs.”
“Good plan.” Ryan finished his drink. “I’ll lock up.”
“I’ll do it. It’ll give my hair time to dry. And I don’t have the ability to knock back wine like you do.”
“If I’m asleep by the time you come up, you have my permission to kiss me.”
“That’s why I married you. You’re so considerate.”
Kissing her on the forehead, Ryan agreed, and as Angie cleared the table and switched off the light, she heard him pause at Lily’s door before entering their room. There was no further noise, and she wondered if he’d got into bed fully clothed. Checking the back door was locked, she sat at the kitchen table and sipped her wine, wondering if she should read the full manuscript again to try and encourage more contact.
“Sod it. Too much, I’m going to bed.”
Emptying her wine into the sink, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye.
“That had better have been a mouse, if it’s a spider I might wake both of them.” She held her breath as she walked across the room, her eyes darting back and forth. Seeing nothing, she gave inspector Tipper’s box a sharp nudge with her toe and jumped back. Nothing moved. “Oh shit.” Being brave, she lifted the scarf from the box and giving it a good shake, threw it onto the table.
To her relief, nothing ran across the floor.
Collecting the scarf, she turned to put it back in the box, instead she held it to her nose. It smelt musty. “Did it ever smell of Lorna, Henry, or was that just a line?”
Without thinking she sat at the table and opened the laptop, the scarf hanging loosely around her neck.
Chapter Twenty Five
Turning back, his mouth hanging open in shock. Henry climbed into the car.
“Thank you!” Before he’d even closed the door, Chelly was pulling away from the bus stop. “Sometimes, Henry, you exasperate me, you really do.”
“Is it true?”
“Do you want it to be?” Half-turning to look at him, Chelly cocked her head.
Thumping the door in frustration, Henry was almost shouting. “Tell me! If you’ve got me in this car with a lie, I swear . . .” Unsure what threat to use, the sentence slipped into silence. After a few seconds, he demanded, “Is she pregnant?”
“No, no, no. That’s not how it works. I asked you a question and you have to answer it.”
“I asked first, if we’re playing games, I asked the first question. Answer it . . . please.” His fists clenched, Henry fought to maintain his temper.
His heart was beating as if he’d just finished training, and he could feel beads of perspiration on his forehead and the back of his neck. Rubbing his neck, he realised he didn’t have his scarf, and he must have left it at the bus stop. In normal circumstances he would have asked to turn back, but where Chelly was involved nothing was normal.
“This isn’t a game, Henry, and even if it were, I’d be making the rules. Now answer the bloody question. How would you feel if she was pregnant?”
“So, it’s not definite? She might not be?” Blowing out a sharp breath, Henry felt a little relief.
“Henry! Good or bad? You are an intelligent young man, stop evading the question.”
Knowing he’d not get a straight answer until she was happy, he shrugged. “I’m not sure."
Chelly’s head whipped round to look at him. “Enough messing about. I want an ans—”
“Look out!” Henry screamed and instinctively grabbed the dashboard with one hand and the steering wheel with the other. He jerked the wheel towards the verge, narrowly missing the oncoming car.
Lights blaring and horn blasting, the other car drove past. Chelly bumped onto the verge and hit the brake.
“You’re bloody mad. You could have killed us. You’re mad, totally bloody mad.” Door open, Henry already had one foot out of the car.
Resting her head against the steering wheel, Chelly closed her eyes. “Don’t go. Answer me that one question, and I’ll take you back to the bus stop.”
Ignoring her, Henry got out of the car. He leaned back in to see Chelly hadn’t moved. “I don’t believe you. I have no idea what you’re playing at, but I don’t want to end up mangled in a car crash. I’ll walk.”
Slamming the car door, he winced as the noise echoed into the silence of the night. He considered his options, and started to jog towards the bus stop where he was due to meet Lorna. It was crucial he spoke to Lorna. He cursed his stupidity at having got into the car, before wondering if Lorna could possibly be pregnant. Thinking back to their earlier conversation, it was certainly a possibility. How did he feel about that? He had no idea, but if there was going to be a discussion about it, it would be with Lorna.
The verge on the side of the road was running out; slowing, he looked across to see if that was any better on the other. He had no torch, and these narrow, winding lanes were not the place to be walking in the dark, and he knew it would be better to walk towards the oncoming traffic. Finding there was no verge at all on the other side, he sighed and looked at his shoes. The quickest option would be to climb to the top of The Ridge, follow it along for a mile or so, dropping down the other side when the village came into sight. It was a route favoured by dog walkers wanting to keep their dogs away from the road. The problem was these shoes weren’t meant for hiking. Quite apart from the lack of grip, even if he made it unscathed, they certainly wouldn’t.
Realising his indecision was wasting valuable time, he checked the time, and decided to go for it. If he made a move now, there was a chance he’d get to the stop in time. Ignoring Chelly’s calls, he negotiated his way through the undergrowth and headed up the hill. Using the saplings and occasional tendril of ivy, he was surprised to find the going wasn’t too bad, and knew that once he got to the top, there would be a path of sorts.
Back at the roadside, Chelly had opened the boot of the car and was pulling on one of Chris Roger’s wellington boots, glad that he’d left his thick socks rolled up inside. Lifting out his woollen bobble hat she looked at in disgust before pulling it down over her ears, gaining immediate relief from the biting wind. Looking up the hill she could just about see Henry. The boy was mad. Where could he be going?
She called to him. “Henry, wait for me. We need to talk.”
Her temper rising when he ignored her, she returned her attention to the boot. Was there anything there that might assist her? It was a long time since she’d done anything so energetic. She pulled out the gift Lorna had bought her father for his birthday. A folding hunting seat. Not that Chris ever went hunting, but he used it as a walking stick, and to take a seat while watching the endless games of football and rugby at the school that seemed to hold such a fascination for him.
On the second attempt she managed to lock the mechanism so the stick was rigid, and gripping the handle in the seat, she slammed the boot and set off after Henry.
Halfway up the hill, Henry paused as he heard her call again.
“Henry, I’m coming with you. Please wait.”
Turning, he looked back to the road. Unable to see her, he turned back. She called again.
“Wait. For God’s sake, Henry, we must talk about this.”
Head down, Henry looked for his next foothold, glad that at least the full moon shed some light between the bare branches. Wondering how Chelly would cope, he shook the thought away. She was totally mad, not worth his concern, he doubted she’d get far before she gave up. But hearing a shout, he rested his shoulder against the nearest tree and looked back.
Having now emerged through the hedgerow, Chelly was using the stick to support herself as she climbed. Henry was surprised to find she was making steady progress, and realised that unlike himself, who for the best part was climbing in a straight line, Chelly was following the path of least resistance.
“Will you bloody wait!” Chelly shouted into the darkness. Although unable to see Henry, she assumed he could still hear her. Looking at the trees along the top of The Ridge, the moon revealing the clumps of mistletoe clinging to the bare branches, she decided she’d only go that far. If he hadn’t responded by then, she’d have to come up with an alternative plan.
Having reached The Ridge, Henry searched for any sign of Chelly. He was about to go on, when she called again.
“Stay right there. I can see you now. I’ll . . .”
Chelly’s words were either blown away by the wind, or she’d simply run out of breath. Catching a movement in the shadows, Henry spotted her. She was several hundred yards to his left. The route she’d taken was now free of vegetation other than the odd fern, and the incline a little steeper. In the oversized wellingtons, she could now only move slowly. Despite the situation, Henry was impressed both with her ability and her determination. As long as she walked with him, he’d talk to her.
Walking until he was directly above her, he directed her as to the best footholds, eventually taking hold of one end of her stick and pulling her up the final few yards.
“Thank you.” Hands on knees, Chelly leaned forward and waited for her breathing to return to normal.
“I’m not stopping to chat. I’m going to catch my bus.” Dropping the stick at her feet, Henry started along the path, careful to avoid the deeper ruts cut into the earth by the many feet wishing to stay away from the edge.
“Know what?” Not bothering to turn, Henry maintained his pace.
“Do you want her to have a bloody baby? You got the stupid bitch pregnant, so you’ll have to pay.”
Spinning round, Henry almost lost his footing. “She is not a bitch, nor is she stupid.”
“Stupid enough to get herself pregnant, stupid enough to sleep with my lover.”
“What? We aren’t lovers, don’t say that, we just had sex!” The plural element of the word lovers, made it sound like a long-term relationship, something that both parties wanted. It was anything but.
Chelly’s grip tightened on the handle of the seat, but she controlled her response. “Lorna is pregnant, Henry. I have no idea of her plans, but I want to know what you’re going to do.”
Wondering whether Chelly was playing some game with him, although he couldn’t understand why she’d go this far, Henry was cautious in his response.
“She hasn’t told me she’s pregnant. I only spoke to her this afternoon, she would have said. Why do you think she’s pregnant?”
“Because amongst my tedious tasks is the need to do housework, Chris is far too mean to pay for a cleaner. I found the pregnancy test in her bin, it was positive. So, what have you got to say about that?”
This was nowhere near the truth. Chelly had been searching through Lorna’s things. She hadn’t known what she was looking for, other than something to smash a dent in the perfect Lorna’s persona. Going through the bin hadn’t occurred to her, but Lorna had come out of the bathroom, and she’d snatched up the bin to provide an explanation. It was Lorna’s look of fear that made Chelly go through the contents before she’d emptied it into the dustbin.
Knowing she was telling the truth, and now in a state of shock, Henry stood staring at her. He had no words to describe the conflicting emotions surging through him. Stepping closer, Chelly poked him in the chest.