by Danuta Kot
Things had been going so right for Becca, and now . . . now they weren’t.
‘So, how are you? Do you want to stop over tonight?’
Becca shook her head. ‘I’m OK. Thanks.’
‘Well, if you change your mind . . .’
Becca was looking round. It was the first time she’d visited Kay since Kay had moved. ‘Why didn’t you go back to Leeds?’ she said. ‘I mean, after Matt?’ Becca had lived in cities all her life. Bridlington was as close to a village as she had ever got. Like Kay, she preferred a place with supermarkets and clubs and bars within easy access.
‘Matt always liked it here,’ Kay said, and chatted on vaguely about walks, about scenery, about places where Milo could have a run, all the time observing Becca slumped in the chair, stroking Milo and staring blankly into the fire.
Becca finally seemed to come to a decision. ‘I’ve left. The drop-in.’
It was what Kay had been half expecting. ‘Have you? But Becca, you said that this morning, then you changed your mind. You’ve really left?’
‘Yeah.’
Kay told herself to take this carefully. If she challenged Becca, Becca would probably just storm out. ‘Do you mean you’ve handed in your notice?’
‘No. I’ve left.’
‘You just walked out?’
Becca’s chin lifted. ‘It wasn’t like that. They asked me to leave.’
Fired? Becca had been fired? ‘Why? What happened?’ Becca had a wicked temper but she’d learned to control it over the years. It was a long time since she’d had a full-blown meltdown.
‘Nothing happened. They just decided.’
‘But something—’
‘Nothing happened.’
Kay knew when she was being warned off. She could ask Neil Cowper. No, she couldn’t. It was Becca’s business, not hers. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s easy to be sorry about things. It doesn’t change anything. Anyway, you haven’t done anything.’
‘I’m sorry you lost the job.’
‘I’m not. I never liked it. I told you.’
‘OK. You did. Becca, first it was college, now it’s the job. What’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?’
‘No. I’m fine. Look, let’s stop talking about it, OK? I just wanted you to know.’
‘You can’t go on like this, Becca. You know that. You have to decide on what you want to do and—’
‘I have decided. Not the fucking drop-in, right?’
They were teetering on the brink of a full-blown row. It wouldn’t be the first – or the last, Kay was sure – but she didn’t want tonight to end up with Becca storming out. Matt was always the one who could get through to her, and, shamelessly, Kay used this now. ‘It was the anniversary last week,’ she said. ‘Matt’s . . . a year since he died. I went walking on the cliff path at Kettleness. I went down to the railway tunnel, and – I know it was just a coincidence, but there was someone on the path behind me, and he was whistling – you’ll never guess. Here, listen to this.’
She picked up the CD remote and found the track she wanted. ‘Listen.’
The harsh voice filled the room. I wish, I wish, I wish in vain . . . Kay looked at Becca. ‘Do you remember?’
But Becca was looking at the CD player with a blank, shocked expression. Was it the sudden memory of Matt? Kay cursed herself for being insensitive. The music still tugged at her – and she had sprung it on Becca without warning.
‘You heard someone . . . Where? Where was it?’
‘Kettleness.’
‘You said the railway tunnel. Which tunnel? What’s it like? Is it like, sort of buried in the ground?’
Kay blinked at the barrage of questions. ‘It’s a railway tunnel – look, up there.’ There was a print of the old railway in its glory days, a steam engine travelling along the line, trailing a plume of smoke.
Becca studied it. ‘Oh. There’s trains.’
‘That’s an old photograph. The line has been closed for years. The tunnel’s sealed off, but people do go in there. Sometimes.’
‘And that’s where you heard . . .?’
‘Yes.’
Becca was gathering her stuff together as she spoke. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m late. Thanks for the tea,’ she added as an afterthought.
‘Are you sure you won’t stay? It’s getting dark.’
‘No, I’m OK. Thanks.’
Kay saw her to the door. ‘Where are you going?’
She saw Becca mull the question over, testing it for ulterior motives. ‘Just, you know, up the coast,’ she said.
Kay bit her tongue on all the questions she wanted to ask. Having just avoided one row, she didn’t want to start another. ‘Have you got somewhere to stay?’
Becca bent down to pat Milo. Whatever she was doing, she wasn’t going to tell Kay. ‘Yeah. I’ll be fine.’
Kay reached for her handbag. She hadn’t been to the bank and she didn’t have a lot of cash, but what she did have . . . ‘Here.’ She thrust a couple of twenties and a ten into Becca’s hand. ‘Don’t start arguing. Take it. And give me a call. Let me know you’re all right.’
Becca looked as if she was going to object, then her hand closed over the cash. She wouldn’t meet Kay’s gaze. ‘Right. OK. Thanks. Really. See you! Ta-ta Milo!’ And with a wave, she was gone, out the door, heading towards her battered car.
Kay sighed. All the anger, all the loss of control, was supposed to be behind Becca, but suppose they weren’t. Kay had never got to the bottom of Becca’s decision to leave college, a topic Becca simply refused to discuss. And now an unexpected sacking from a job she was doing well at . . .
It was getting on for ten, and she was tired. Early night. She went to turn off her laptop, then remembered the email alert she’d heard earlier. Leave it until tomorrow? No, it would nag at her.
She sat down at her desk. Two emails had arrived. One was routine business and could wait. The other – she didn’t recognise the address, but the subject line said From Becca. She knew Becca’s email address – this wasn’t it. With a real sense of trepidation, she opened it.
Two photographs filled her screen.
Oh, Becca! Just what have you got yourself mixed up in now?
Chapter 32
The rain was still falling as Becca followed the narrow road towards the coast. Alek had replaced the slashed tyre, but all he’d managed to do with the windows was piece them together with heavy-duty tape. The inside of the car was freezing and her windscreen wipers weren’t working properly. She had to drive with her nose almost against the glass, trying to see ahead.
This was supposed to be the main road, though it was more like a country lane. According to Jared, there should be a right turn coming up soon, signposted . . .
Goldsborough. There it was, on cue. She wasn’t lost. The turning took her onto an even narrower road, heading towards the coast.
It couldn’t be far now.
The rain was falling heavily and the light was gone. She could barely see a few feet ahead of her and when the road took a tight turn to the left, she almost ended up in a field. Jared hadn’t mentioned that. Her faith in his directions began to fade. Why didn’t she just head back to Kay’s? She could find whatever field Jared had parked himself in much easier in the morning.
But a sense of urgency drove her on. The video on the tablet couldn’t wait. Paige had left that for her – she was sure of it now – and it was already over twenty-four hours since Paige had got in the car and vanished. She should have found it that night – Paige might have been relying on that. Time was running away and she couldn’t wait any longer.
And there was the tune.
It was the tune someone was whistling on the video. And now Kay had heard it, up near the tunnel Jared talked about. There was a tunnel in the video, but not the same tunnel . . . or was it?
Jared was the only person Becca could think of who might know what it was the video showed. She had to find him tonight and let him watch it, then th
ey could decide what to do.
But the road seemed endless. She was lost.
Her phone was on the dashboard with the satnav open, but out here the signal was unreliable. Follow the road to Goldsborough, Jared had said. Then take the right turn along the road marked ‘dead end’. You can’t miss it.
Dead end. That sounded about right.
It was like Matt used to say – You’re impulsive, Becca. That’s why you get into bother sometimes. Don’t just jump – try and think things through.
And now, too late, she was thinking. She was trying to find out what had happened to Paige, but Jared had no reasons to be concerned about Paige. Jared was a pill-head who wasn’t really concerned about anyone else. When Becca called him, said she had something she wanted him to see, he’d been all Yeah, great, come up here, but he probably thought she meant more camming photos and had his own ideas about how they’d spend the time. He said he’d deleted the photos someone had sent him, but that was no guarantee he wasn’t perving over them right now.
Why should she rely on him? He’d messed up on helping Paige at the caravan site, he’d run out on his friend in the caves – he’d said as much – and he’d run out on her back in Brid, so what use was he going to be now?
The more she thought about it, the more she was sure he wouldn’t help. He’d turn out just like the rest of them. And now someone was trashing her life again and she couldn’t do anything to stop them. Like her pervy policeman stepfather who’d just – without her permission, without asking, he’d just . . .
Lights dazzled her in her rear-view mirror and she hit the steering wheel with her fist in angry frustration. Un-fucking-believable! Out here in the middle of nowhere, out here at the end of the world, in the fucking boon-docks, she’d got someone sitting on her tail.
What the fuck was he doing? She couldn’t pull over – the road was too narrow for passing. The headlights were blinding her now and she put her foot down to get away.
But the bastard was still hassling her, coming right up behind her, tailgating her, forcing her to drive faster than she wanted to when she couldn’t see and didn’t know where she was going.
Her speed was going up and up – forty-five, fifty, fifty-five – she wrestled with the steering wheel, trying to clear bends she only saw when she was on top of them, and he was still behind her, not sounding his horn, just close on her tail, pushing and pushing her – shit! Anything could be coming the other way. At this speed if she hit anything, she would be . . .
A wall loomed out of the darkness and she hauled the wheel round, hearing the squeal of tyres and the tooth-clenching screech of metal against stone. The car jolted, skidded round, throwing her against the wheel and whipping her head back.
And then the road was gone and she was bumping over rough ground as the car rocked from side to side, rocked again – she was going over, she was going over – then rocked back. She banged her head against the door pillar and the car bounced to a stop.
The engine cut out, leaving her to the silence and the falling rain.
Chapter 33
Becca didn’t know how long she sat there. Seconds, minutes, hours?
Oh, God.
Then the shaking started. Her hands were out of her control as she fumbled with the seat belt that wouldn’t shift, and with the door lock. Somewhere trapped in her head a voice was telling her to get out of the car, to get away.
The car that had driven her off the road – it was out there somewhere.
She tried to look behind her, but a stab of pain in her neck as she twisted round made her sink back into the seat.
She was out in the middle of the countryside on her own, she had no idea where she was, she’d probably wrecked her car, it was raining and she was hurt.
And somewhere in the night was the other car.
Drive away. Get the car started and drive away.
She was reaching for the ignition when the passenger door was wrenched open and a bright light shone in her face. Becca’s scream cracked in her dry throat. She turned the key and turned it again as the engine whinnied and failed. Her shaking hands fumbled with the seat belt and she pushed against the door, as the pain in her neck and shoulder stabbed at her.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t get out.
Paige had been so badly beaten they couldn’t identify her. Couldn’t even photograph her.
Then someone spoke. ‘I kind of thought it must be you. Are you OK?’
She lashed out at the voice. ‘Don’t! Touch me! Don’t . . .’
‘Becca. Hey, come on, take it easy. It’s me. Jared.’
Jared. It was Jared. Her heart was hammering in her throat and she couldn’t speak. She sat in the car reaching for air that seemed to have vanished.
‘What happened? Are you hurt?’
‘I . . .’ She steadied her breathing. ‘I’m . . . someone ran me off the road. I . . .’ She could just make out Jared’s shape behind the torch he was holding. ‘The light. They’ll see the light.’
‘The other car? It’s gone. Someone went down the lane at about seventy. They’re in for a nasty surprise if they don’t slow down.’
‘What if he comes back?’
His attention was suddenly focused. ‘Someone was after you?’
Becca shook her head. She wanted to cry so she summoned her anger instead. ‘I don’t know. Stupid arse. He nearly killed me.’ Now the seat belt undid easily. Moving gingerly, she eased herself out of the front seat. Her neck was painful, but she could move it OK. Her stomach was sore and when she touched it she flinched at the pain. A bruise – the seat belt.
She felt Jared put something round her shoulders and realised the rain was coming down in buckets and she was wet. He looked across the field to where the road must be. It was too dark to see anything, but his face, in the light of his torch, looked worried. ‘Best get out of sight,’ he said. ‘You’re cold. Let’s get you warmed up.’
Suddenly her legs were shaking and she could barely stand. Gritting her teeth, she ignored his proffered arm and limped across the field.
She heard the sound of a car in the distance. It was heading towards them. Jared switched the torch off, leaving them in darkness. The car was closer now, moving slowly, somewhere to their left where the road must be. Jared tugged on her arm. ‘Down!’ He spoke into her ear as he pulled her onto the ground.
About 100 metres away, she could see the glow of the headlights moving on the other side of the wall. Then they blazed out, and she realised the car had reached the gate. She gripped Jared’s arm. Her guts were tight, she needed to pee – a sudden, urgent spasm – and there was something in her that wanted to shout out We’re here! – just to get it over with.
She heard a car door – someone was getting out, going to look at her car. They’d see she wasn’t there and then – she and Jared were on their own. She was hurt and couldn’t run fast, and Jared – he was hurt too.
A light started to play across the field, towards her car, swinging wider, towards the place where they were hiding . . .
The girl in the hospital, damaged so badly, no one could recognise her.
Pools of water and someone whistling a familiar tune.
OK, OK, I’m here, I give up, come and find me . . . No!
Then in the distance she heard the sound of a siren, a police car, an ambulance, she didn’t know. She grasped the sound like a comfort blanket. Maybe the driver of the car had called for an ambulance, maybe that was why he’d come back, maybe . . .
The car door again. The car engine and the headlights swinging round the field. Jared pushing her head down and then the sound of the car as it headed away down the road, back towards Kay’s, back towards Whitby.
The siren wailed and wailed, moving closer, then moving away, then fading into silence.
Chapter 34
Half an hour later, Becca was wearing dry clothes – a pair of Jared’s jeans and one of his warm sweaters – with her hands wrapped round a cu
p of hot soup. She still looked pale, and from time to time her teeth clattered against the side of the mug as the shivering came back, but she looked a lot better than she had.
Once he got her comfortable, Jared divested himself of his all-enveloping waterproof and dumped it in the outer part of the tent. He didn’t know what to do, and he didn’t know what was going on. Becca had arrived with an anonymous car on her heels and a cascade of malicious texts dogging her tracks. Who the fuck had she got on the wrong side of? And how? He shook his head.
‘What?’ Becca was watching him closely over the rim of her mug.
‘Just . . . trying to work out what to do.’
Her chin lifted. ‘You don’t have to do anything. I’ll be fine.’
‘I know. But I’m doing it, right?’ He’d kept the stove lit for the shortest time possible – getting something warm into Becca seemed important, but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to their location. He knew how to keep them both out of sight. Years ago, his father had taken him camping in the wild, taught him to survive with just a compass and a map. He’d already closed the entrance up tight and dimmed the light. If someone wanted to find them, they were going to have to do some hard searching in the dark.
Becca was curled up against a rolled-up sleeping bag. She looked round the tent. ‘This is cool. I’ve never been camping before.’
He grinned. She wasn’t going to admit she’d been scared. ‘It’s not bad, is it? Better than the caravan.’ He listened to the sounds of the night. Just the rain still falling. No vehicles, nothing moving in the field, or nothing that had no right to be there.
She shifted uneasily. ‘What do you do if you want . . . you know.’
He grimaced. For him, this field was fine, but the sanitary arrangements left a lot to be desired. In this weather, he’d probably use a bottle, but he couldn’t expect Becca to do that. ‘It’s not brilliant. There’s a shed across the field with a shower and stuff. In this rain, I just nip out if it’s only – you need to go?’