The Final Child

by Fran Dorricott

  “No,” Alex repeated.

  His footsteps stuttered on the wooden floor. I thought suddenly of the potting shed. Could Harriet be in there? I couldn’t wait for him any longer, not with freedom, escape, so close.

  Suddenly I couldn’t rein it in any more. The frustration and fear burst out of me, and the volume in this glass room was shocking.

  “Alex, for fuck’s sake snap out of it!” I shouted. “I need to find Harriet and if you won’t help me then at least tell me where to look.”

  I yanked on the door to the conservatory, finding that it wasn’t locked, and then I was stumbling outside, and very briefly I wondered if I was still drunk because this wasn’t making any sense. I should have called the police, taken the risk. Harriet might already be dead.

  Alex followed me outside silently, watching as a blackbird shot out of a tree and into the sky at my exit. He seemed more wary out here, his shoulders hunched against the cold wind. In his t-shirt he must have been freezing.

  “This way, then,” he said.

  We cut across the grass at a jog. Alex led me past the potting shed, which seemed bigger down here, and I shivered at the memory of the darkness, the wetness, the blindfold… I hated that it only came back in pieces. I wanted to grab my brain and shake it. I made myself look at it as we passed. It wasn’t the same now. It was older, damaged, a jagged maw torn in the panelling. It was dark inside. I went cold as my memories surged again.

  We ran for a minute or so, Alex surprisingly fit.

  We were out of sight of the house in just minutes, the trees growing around us as we reached the end of the wild lawn. I could see the lake between the edges of the trees, glittering in the morning light.

  Suddenly Alex branched left. I skidded on the wet, ropey grass, my breath coming short.

  “This way…” Alex was muttering, and I couldn’t make out his words. Then his pace quickened again and we ran between tall silver birches that seemed like ghosts standing watch.

  And then I saw where we were heading, and my skin was on fire and my heart was bursting out of my chest. I stopped dead, just short of the small clearing. Alex kept going until he reached the middle, and when he turned his grin was triumphant.

  He was stood by a well. I knew it. I remembered it. I felt sick.

  “Jilly, look.”

  He started to push the cover off. It was heavy, corrugated metal that screamed as he tilted his weight into moving it to one side. I knew that the disused well was not filled with water. Not any more. Somebody had filled it in, a long time ago. Now it was sand and dirt, maybe five feet deep – although it had seemed like much more back then.

  I knew because we had both been inside it.

  “Alex…”

  I couldn’t move.

  The darkness had been absolute. The moon was out by the time we’d made it here that night, terrified and panting. Alex gripping my hand the whole way. A little part of both of us wanted to go back to the warmth of the house. To the nurse lady and her son. But we had both needed to rest, to plan. We weren’t ready to face the woods. Neither of us wanted to die.

  “Jilly, come look.”

  Alex’s voice brought me back to the present and I inched closer even though my whole body was screaming to run. I moved one hand slowly to my pocket but nothing there could comfort me now.

  What if the well wasn’t empty? What if it was Harriet in there? I couldn’t hear anything. No crying, no tears of pain. My bowels turned to water.

  “It’s a bit dark in there, actually. Here.”

  Alex reached into his pocket.

  He pulled out my lighter. The one I’d lost in the hotel car park.

  “No,” I whispered. “What about Peter?”

  His expression didn’t change.

  “Peter’s gone,” Alex said. “He isn’t coming back.”

  I could see it now. I finally understood. Peter was gone. Like Jas was gone. Like Dana and Monica were gone. What about Harriet?

  “I’m trying to show you. So that you remember—”

  Peter was gone and only Alex was left.

  “Alex,” I said, my blood curdling in my veins. “What have you done?”

  AFTER

  Alex

  DANA WAS AFRAID OF Peter. Alex could tell, by the way she spoke to him, by the way she bought him only the best clothes and toys and gave him the biggest bedroom, but also by the way she refused to touch him. She recoiled from him as though his skin might poison her.

  Perhaps it would. Alex had been touched – more than once in the last few weeks – by those surprisingly delicate hands, and every time he felt a little bit less like the Alex he was before. It was as though something had snapped deep inside him when he’d watched Jilly tumble down that hill and land in a heap at the bottom. She had looked so small, so helpless, even though she had always seemed so strong. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d wanted to save her. And now he could never go home – not knowing what he’d done.

  He knew he’d hurt her, because if she’d been okay she would have come back for him. She’d have sent help. But she hadn’t.

  The morning after Jilly escaped, the sky still dark, Dana and Peter made a start. Alex watched them both wipe down the length of the conservatory where he and Jillian had sat just a week or so ago, the smell of bleach strong inside his nose. Peter was the one giving the orders, his mother nodding as though they’d done this before. But she did as he said. She had been outside most of the night. Whether she was looking for Jilly or doing something else, Alex didn’t know.

  Alex was terrified, but he was also fascinated. At home Dad was the one who made the rules, and it was like nobody noticed how unfair they were so long as Alex was the only one they hurt.

  Dana and Peter weren’t like that.

  After they’d cleaned up they tied Alex and Randeep to the bottom of the stairs while they filled the car. Books, candles, clothes. Nothing big, but all of the essentials. Bathroom things, Dana’s scrubs, bin bags, razors. Alex knew that Dana shaved her hands, her arms. He’d felt how soft they were, how smooth, when she’d brought him here.

  Every time Peter passed Alex on the stairs, he smiled. Alex hated that smile. So, to distract Peter, Alex started to ask questions. And to his surprise, Peter answered them.

  Randeep was silent. He’d been crying for hours and now he was completely frozen. Alex had been so grateful, yesterday, for the key. So he and Jilly could escape. But now he was angry at the other boy. Why didn’t he make any sort of effort? If he carried on like this he’d get himself killed.

  Alex tried not to think about Jillian. He tried not to think of the alternative future where she might have led the police right to him so he could go home. That hurt too much.

  When the packing was done, Mother blindfolded Alex and Randeep and carried them both to the car. Peter told them to lie in the back under heavy blankets. But he let Alex take his blindfold off. Just Alex, not Randeep.

  “Don’t tell Mother,” he said.

  Alex knew he should try to run. But he saw the way Peter and Mother looked at Randeep, as though he was already dead, and he couldn’t do it. Without Jilly he wasn’t brave.

  It still wasn’t quite light out when they stopped driving. The whole way Alex had felt Randeep trembling against him, but he felt numb. He had no idea where they were, now. Dark trees, a stone wall, a little house.

  Inside they locked him and Randeep in the bathroom. Then he heard a car engine again, and Peter knocked on the bathroom door to get their attention.

  “Mother’s gone to deal with the police,” he said.

  Alex knew that the police would never find the basement rooms behind that bookcase, not unless they knew they were there. And Peter’s mother was clever.

  But Alex could be clever, too.

  So he started to tell Peter a story. He told lies about Jilly. About how she’d made him run. About how he never wanted to go. And by the end, he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel any more. He thought about that a
lot over the following days, and weeks.

  He realised he was angry. Angry at himself, for pushing Jilly. And… he was angry at Jilly, too. It filled him with a sick feeling but he was so angry that she hadn’t been strong, that she had been hurt. Maybe the anger masked something else, but anger was safer than sadness, so he let it grow.

  But he also felt relieved. Peter and Dana had accepted him again, as though he hadn’t nearly ruined it all. He wasn’t like Randeep’s sister, who had died. He wasn’t like Randeep, who had given up.

  After a long while in the bathroom, Peter let him out. Just him, not Randeep. He let Alex watch TV. Things were almost… normal. Until one day, they were watching while Dana was at work and the news came on. Peter let him watch. And Alex saw Jillian.

  Alive.

  Alex felt that anger flare again, but this time it was so hot, so white, that he saw nothing but sparks. She was alive, Dad was holding her, and she had never come back for him. She had let him believe she was dead. Alex could hardly breathe, but he fought the anger and looked away.

  Later on Peter came to him. Silently he handed Alex a syringe filled with a clear liquid. The lid was on but Alex was still worried he’d accidentally stab himself.

  “He has to be punished,” Peter said. He took Alex aside with an arm around his shoulders, and led him into the bedroom. Alex was allowed into the whole upstairs of the house now, as long as he didn’t go too near the windows.

  “You told me you knew Randeep would try to run, like his sister,” Alex said. “You thought he might try to get Jilly and me out because he was angry.”

  Alex thought about Jas, who had died before he and Jillian had even come to the big house. Somehow he felt nothing, as though they were just stories in a book, not real people.

  “I did,” Peter agreed, “but he still shouldn’t have done it. He failed the test. I mean, look what happened to your sister. It’s his fault she didn’t come back. He scared her. If we don’t punish him we’re as bad as he is. If Mother had punished Chris more after Father left – like she punished me – he would still be alive and none of this would have happened. Because of Randeep we had to leave Dove and now we can probably never go back. Because of him and your stupid sister.”

  They went into the bathroom. Randeep was barely conscious. Alex wondered how much of the morphine Peter had given him to keep him calm. It was liquid, like the kind people used in hospitals, or on old people. That’s what Peter said. You just squirted it into their mouths and it chilled them right out… Alex had seen the cabinet where Dana kept all of her medicines, in a little black box with a combination lock, opening it only when she stole a little more. But Peter knew the code.

  Randeep’s head lolled back, his body sprawled on the floor.

  He glanced at Peter – older, wise somehow beyond his years.

  “You gonna do the honours?” Peter asked.

  He gestured to the syringe in Alex’s hand. Alex looked down at it dimly, and then back at Peter. This boy was his only chance. With Jilly gone, who else did Alex have? Dad had seen them, that night, and he hadn’t even found a way to help. And Jilly – she was alive and she still hadn’t come back for him.

  Alex knew he could hang on. Maybe the police would find him one day. But he didn’t know how long Peter would be patient. Wouldn’t it be better to have Peter as a brother than to be dead like Jas?

  “You want me to do it?” Alex asked.

  Peter shrugged as though he didn’t care either way, except they both knew he did.

  “It’s easy,” he said. “You just pinch some skin – there – and put it in at an angle. Then push it down. You don’t have to do much, it’s fine even with your little hands.”

  Alex looked down at his hands. The fingers were skinny, the palms small. He tried to imagine them pinching Randeep’s skin, pushing the pale liquid in through the needle.

  “Come on, Alex,” Peter chided. “You know he can’t stay in the bathroom forever. And we’ll never be able to trust him now.”

  Alex looked at the syringe again and then at Randeep’s face.

  It wouldn’t be that hard. Just put the needle in and push the top down. The other boy wouldn’t feel it. And really… I have to do it or else it’ll happen to me.

  The words were crystal clear in his mind.

  “It’s his fault your sister is gone,” Peter said again. “If it wasn’t for him she’d still be with us and we’d still be in the big house. We could go swimming in the lake and read in front of the fire and pick apples in the orchard. And now we just have this tiny, crappy little house. He needs to be punished.”

  It was this or death. Alex couldn’t die without talking to Jilly again. Not without finding out why she hadn’t come back. Not without being sure she hadn’t forgotten him.

  “Okay,” Alex said.

  It wasn’t as easy as Peter said, but he did it.

  THIRTY NINE

  Erin

  “I WANTED TO TELL you, Jilly. I wanted to ask you why you never came back, but I couldn’t find you. And then, when I found you, you didn’t even notice me – you were always so busy you didn’t even see me.” Alex held my lighter between his thumb and forefinger, the distance between us closing as I inched towards the well.

  “If you hurt Harriet…” The threat sounded empty even to my ears. I had nothing to bargain with. No sounds came from the well and I felt fear worming deep in my gut. If she was unconscious – or worse, dead… “How long has she been in there?”

  “Oh for goodness’ sake! It’s always about other people with you. See for yourself.”

  The animal was back. Alex flicked the lighter towards me and it landed in the dirt.

  “I thought you’d be pleased to have that back. You dropped it outside your hotel, you know. Anybody could have picked it up.”

  Finally I was close enough to peer into the well. I didn’t reach for the lighter – didn’t want to give him a chance to catch me off guard. Instead I let my eyes search the darkness for Harriet’s red hair, her pale skin.

  Vomit rose in my throat. It wasn’t Harriet. My body went cold, my knees buckling.

  “Why, Alex…?”

  Jenny Bowles was dead. I could see the waxy colour of her skin, that absolute, final stillness. My belly turned somersaults, but I was too bewildered to fight the spike of relief – it wasn’t Harriet.

  “Why her?” Alex asked. “I needed you to remember. And I could tell she was starting to crack again. She told me – how she was sure Peter killed her boys. How they didn’t run away. He didn’t, you know. And they did run away. It was just that Mother found them. Jenny saw Peter a few years ago. She recognised him, and she started saying she was going to tell. We had to threaten her. To make her shut up. It was fine until your friend called her. She started to panic again, blew things all out of proportion. I went to see her and she said that was it, it was over, she wasn’t going to be afraid any more. So I fixed it.”

  “Alex—”

  “If you’d have remembered faster I wouldn’t have had to do it.”

  “Don’t—”

  But he was on a roll. “You forgot about me. You pushed me so far from your mind that you forgot it all.”

  “I didn’t!” I shouted.

  Alex watched me carefully, like a lion might regard its prey. His eyes were on my face. I wondered if he could see what I meant. I never forgot about him.

  I inched my foot closer towards the lighter, until my sole was pressing it into the dirt.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? Why don’t you just kill me?”

  “Sorry?” Alex let out a barking laugh. “Sorry fixes everything, right? Your ‘sorry’ takes away everything that happened? You didn’t come back, and they made us leave the house, and now look how it’s falling down. While you’ve been moving on, buying a nice place, a car, I’ve been having to go back to that shitty little house to get warm, to think, sleeping in the cold, stealing stuff I can’t afford. Mother
is dead and her savings are the only money I have left. You don’t think about these things, do you? So yeah, Jilly, I’m angry at you. But I never wanted to kill you.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want – you.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “I wanted you to know I was still here. I wanted you to know that I survived. I wanted you to be my sister again. Is that too much to ask?”

  “But all that death, those threats… Why?”

  Alex frowned, his eyes going blank.

  “People just… they just moved on. I followed Randeep’s mother, Jacob’s mother. Peter told me all about them. How they’d forget about us, how they’d just go about their lives as though nothing ever happened. Peter was right. They never cared about any of us.”

  “Alex, it’s been years. They have memorials, they get together to remember. That’s what healthy people do—”

  “No they don’t!” Alex shouted. A muscle bunched in his neck. “You don’t move on, Jilly. You should never forget.”

  “I didn’t forget about you!”

  I wanted to grab the lighter. If nothing else maybe I could throw it at his head hard enough to distract him while I ran. But what then? I felt cold terror seep into my very bones. I was trapped and he knew it.

  “I can see it, Jill. In your eyes.”

  “But if it’s about us, about me, why kill Monica?”

  “She was a fucking distraction!” This laugh was so loud I jumped. “Jesus, you’ve got no idea. I was there, the whole time. I followed you. I waited on street corners, outside that stupid bar. And you never even saw me. So I got rid of her. And the writer.”

  Harriet. My body began to tremble.

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, rolling his eyes again. “She’s safe. Insurance. Not that I need her any more. You were so slow, Jilly. I had to get you up here somehow. So I put the cow in the well and thought, well, if I could recreate things for you a little bit then you might remember. You might come home.”