No Place Like Home

by Lynda Stacey

  Aching for the euphoria to return, I pull out my phone, wait for your back to be turned, begin taking photographs, one after the other and feel the power I have over you, over your life, your future. It’s a power I can’t live without, like a wild animal searching for food, for its next meal, to ensure its survival. Whereas you, you don’t even realise that you need to survive. Not yet. You don’t know how close you are to losing it all, to taking your final breath. It’s something I never wanted to do, not to you. I was hoping you’d disappear, while you had the chance, you could have taken Beth with you, started a new life. But instead, you came to this house, to the one place I never wanted you to be and in doing so, you sealed your own fate, because now… I have no choice but to kill you both.

  4

  ‘Thanks for that, Beth.’

  ‘Thanks for what?’ Beth stood behind her, hands placed smugly on her hips. She made every attempt to look past her, around her and into the garden.

  ‘For letting me practically break down the front door, when the back door was open.’

  Huffing, Beth spun, stamped through the kitchen, towards the hall. ‘What, do you think, I’m bloody psychic? How would I know the door was open?’

  Trying to keep calm, Molly thought of the noise, how her sister had disappeared around the back, knew that if the door was open now, it must have been open then. She began counting to ten, her stomach twisted and she felt nervous that Michael’s niece could still be around, that they might finally get to meet her. After all, they had spoken on the phone on numerous occasions. And strangely, Molly did feel inquisitive. Wanted to know what she was like. Especially after the frosty calls, where Carol had made it very clear that the house should have stayed in the family. That her father had helped Michael build it. The fact that she wasn’t pleased had been quite an understatement, leaving Molly to wonder if she’d left the keys hanging on purpose. It was as though she’d had no intention of a face-to-face meeting and certainly hadn’t made a point of welcoming them with open arms.

  Pulling the keys from the lock, she turned them over and over in her hand, studied the ladybird keyring that was still attached. Puzzled, she decided that it looked expensive. It was something Carol might want back and nervously, Molly inched onto the doorstep, looked out, waited. The oncoming storm was getting closer, the sky full of clouds and the moon hidden from view, leaving the garden looking darker, more sinister, with darker, deeper and more foreboding shadows than she’d hoped. She found herself standing on her tiptoes and trying to look around corners, without actually leaving the safety of the house.

  ‘Carol… are you out there?’ She tossed the keys onto the worktop, cupped her hands around her mouth, shouted over thunderous waves that hit the rocks below and eventually, she took a step out. A step closer to the shed. ‘Carol. It’s Molly Winter, are you…’ She was going to ask if she was in there, if she’d popped outside for a moment, but as the heavens opened and the rain began to fall in torrents, it was more than obvious that if Carol had been in the garden she’d have been seen running for cover.

  Jumping inside the shed, Molly sheltered from the rain. She listened to the way the rain pelted against the roof and with eyes as wide as saucers, she scoured the roof, searched for holes. She kept an eye on the back door, on where Beth had previously stood. Wrapping her arms nervously around herself, she shuddered, noticed a few random logs. An old coal scuttle half full of black, oval rocks. It didn’t look like the coal she’d known as a child. But she was sure it would burn and for that, she felt thankful.

  ‘Yay… Beth, we will have a fire tonight,’ she yelled, bent over to pick up the logs and then froze as she heard a loud, deafening bang, felt the shed door slam behind her. There was only a small polycarbonate window to give her some light. Pushing at the door, she felt its resistance, felt her heartbeat accelerate, her throat suddenly dry.

  ‘Beth! Beth!’ Her voice echoed back at her, the hammering of the rain on the roof enough to drown out any sound, and once again she thought of Michael, of how he’d have lain on the patio, all broken, in pain, with no one to help.

  Her whole body began to tremble, her stomach faltered, threatened to rid itself of her lunch and she began taking deep yet rapid breaths. Nervously, she pushed at the door, then pushed again. Something was stopping it, something or someone had slammed it behind her, and in temper she began to kick at the door, could just about see through a small hole, where over the years the wood had disintegrated.

  ‘Beth… seriously. I swear to God… this is no time for games.’ Blinking, she held her breath, felt sure she could hear boots on gravel, tried to peer through the polycarbonate window. Gave her head a short, sharp shake. ‘It’s getting to you. You’re finally imagining things,’ she whispered to herself, thrust herself onto her feet and with a newfound energy she kicked at the door, began to hammer against it with tightly coiled fists.

  ‘All right, all right! I’m coming,’ Beth’s voice shrieked, her footsteps splashed through the puddles and suddenly, the door was thrust open. ‘What the hell are you doing in there?’ Her eyes were wide, her face a mixture of shock and hysterics. ‘What did our mum always tell you about going into strange buildings, on your own, at night?’ She stood back in the rain, her hands on her hips. ‘Well, come on…’ She laughed. ‘I’ve found the fuse box, lights are on and the living room, it does have a fire. So…’ She looked down, spotted the scuttle. ‘Great, you found some coal. I’ll go make a start on the fire.’ Pausing, Beth picked up the scuttle. ‘Oh, and you might want to know. Removal van is here. He had to reverse the whole way down the lane, his clutch stinks like molten rubber. He’s shouting about how he could have burned it out and, oh boy, he really isn’t happy.’

  Running for the house and locking the back door firmly behind her, Molly stood for a moment, stared at the shed. At her temporary prison. She couldn’t help but wonder what had really happened out there. All she did know was that Beth was capable of anything, especially when she wanted her own way. And right now, she wanted to make sure that this house was the last place either of them wanted to be.

  5

  Determined to get Beth on side, Molly pulled the duvet up and under her chin, snuggled as close to her sister as she could get, gave her a loving squeeze.

  ‘See, I told you we’d be okay, didn’t I?’ Since arriving, the job of moving them into the house had been exhausting, even with the help of the two grumpy removal men, who between them had moaned about every single item they’d carried in. The boxes had been too heavy, too wet, the path far too slippery, their vehicle parked much too far away and if anyone had told them how difficult the lane would be, they’d have probably had to charge even more than they already had.

  And now, some six hours later, Molly and Beth were both lying in their makeshift bed. A double mattress positioned on top of a rug, in front of the fire, with their mum’s two settees surrounding them like a fortress. One stood down the side of the mattress, with the other along the top, serving as an impromptu headboard, with a small space at the bottom of the temporary bed where they could crawl in or out, albeit only on their hands and knees.

  ‘At least we got the room nice and clean.’ Molly stretched, rubbed her back which still ached from the vacuuming, mopping and de-spidering. All of which had been done since the removal men had left. The mattress had been stowed in the hallway, carried in last, then carefully positioned between the two settees.

  Leaning against the pillows, they both gazed longingly through the long curtainless window that during daylight would have given them the most perfect view of the entire bay. But right now, the view was distorted by the rain and hail that thrashed against the glass, along with the darkness beyond, where the faded lights of Filey intermittently poked through the thick murky sea fret, making Molly grateful for being inside. Even though the fuse box had been found, they’d turned the lights off and were lying in the firelight, with just a small number of carefully positioned candles, to give a warm and cosy a
mbience.

  ‘Do you remember when we used to do this with Mum?’ Beth pursed her lips, pulling at the duvet. ‘It was the closest we ever got to camping, wasn’t it?’

  Molly slowly nodded. She remembered moving to the refuge, the times they’d all shared the same bed, because there had been no other option. It had been a quiet Sunday morning, with Molly reading a book and Beth sitting beside her at the table making a house for her dolls. It had stuck in her mind quite clearly because of the way their mum had been nervously pacing up and down, cigarette in hand, ash so long it arched toward the floor, before finally dropping off to land on the already grime covered carpet. Then, without warning, there had been an explosion of noise. Mum had screamed, ran towards them as though sheltering them from the sight of what appeared to be an army of police that had stormed through the house, all in search of Charlie.

  ‘He’ll be hiding in the loft,’ their mother had yelled. ‘You’ll find him up there.’ Her finger had pointed to the stairs, while she’d cowered beside the table, clinging to Beth.

  Then, just a few minutes later, Molly remembered the emotions that had whizzed around in her mind as Charlie had been unceremoniously pushed down the stairs, out of the house and into a waiting police car where his screams and threats could be heard from a distance, even after the vehicle’s doors had been slammed. She’d felt both relief and dread all at once. Relief that, for now, he was gone. But a sickening dread that, once he returned, he’d make them pay. After all, they were threats he’d spat at them so many times before. Times when moments of terror had turned into what had felt like hours of violence. The way he’d struck out, his face contorted with so much anger that his eyes had bulged, and saliva had dripped from his screaming, drunken mouth and then, just a few hours later, how he’d always begged for forgiveness, promising it would never, ever happen again. They were moments that Molly would never forget, moments that had haunted her since, times she’d thought him about to kill them all. She felt grateful that Beth had been so young, so naïve, completely oblivious.

  Pulling Beth towards her, Molly dropped a kiss lightly on her sister’s forehead. ‘Our mum looked after us the only way she knew how.’ A sob left her throat as she wondered how much Beth remembered. ‘She had no choice. You do know that. Don’t you?’

  Beth nodded, her eyes brimming with tears too. ‘The day it all happened, the day we left for the refuge.’ She watched, waiting for Molly to nod before continuing. ‘I didn’t realise that that was it. That we’d never be going home. Not ever again.’ Her voice quivered as she spoke. ‘And I know you’d never really liked him, but he’s my dad, and I didn’t even get to say goodbye. And… then everything changed.’ She paused and moved onto her side. ‘I wanted to see him, but Mum said he was dangerous.’

  ‘Beth, he was more than dangerous, and in my opinion, he was also a coward. Not many men would shoot a woman in the back. It was broad daylight, so he couldn’t even try to pretend it was an accident, could he?’ Molly chided, watched Beth’s face, hoped she didn’t ask too many questions that had no answers. Their mum had barely ever spoken of the case, of the woman, leaving Molly to assume, to try to find it on the internet. A search she’d made in vain; witness protection meant that the press had had their wings clipped and reporting had been kept to a minimum.

  Turning away, Beth sniffed. ‘I know what he did. I know it was horrid, that shooting someone isn’t something most of us go around doing. But he was my dad and I really don’t think he’d have been dangerous, not to me.’

  Taking a deep breath, Molly pressed her lips tightly together, furrowed her brow. ‘Do you know what, you’re right. I didn’t like him. My own dad died before I was born and for the first few years it was just me and Mum. Then Charlie appeared, he moved in, took over, made new rules. I saw what he did, how he was with Mum. How frightened both Mum and I were of him.’ She turned, slowly breathed back out, tried to think how best to continue. ‘Who knows how dangerous he really is or was and him being in prison all that time, well… whether you think he’d have hurt you or not, it didn’t exactly make him father of the year, did it?’

  Molly thought of the persistent phone calls. The harassment. The controlling attitude, along with his demands to see Beth and her mother’s continual refusal to let him. ‘He scares me, Beth. He scared our mum and I know you don’t want to hear it, but she really was terrified of him. Not knowing what he’d do next. And, like it or not, I still think he had something to do with her being murdered.’ Her eyes dropped to her phone. It lay on the mattress beside her, the screen lit up, the notification appeared. It was the same time and number as the night before and not one of her normal contacts. Closing her eyes, she growled internally. It was the second message she’d received. She tried to flick at the screen, felt sure Beth’s dad, Charlie, was behind them and didn’t want her to see.

  Happy moving in day. Sleep well.

  Staring at the screen. She felt her stomach plummet, her temper rise, her throat grow dryer by the second. She considered hitting the block button; her thumb hovered over the screen. In temper, she shook her head, knew she’d rather see what he was saying, what he was thinking. She had every intention of keeping him as far away from Beth as she could.

  Beth sat upright and glared. ‘You can’t say that!’ she snapped. ‘You can’t blame him for everything.’ She emphasised the words. ‘He was in prison when Mum was killed. He couldn’t have been the one to hurt her. Could he?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know, the perfect alibi.’ She could still see the policewoman’s face, the way she’d described her mother’s death as a tragedy. A burglary that had gone terribly wrong. But Molly had noticed the look of indecision on her face, her furrowed brow and the admission that things simply hadn’t added up. The door hadn’t been forced. All that had been missing was a watch. A Rolex. A gift that Michael had bought her. Then there had been the two untouched glasses of wine, both had been left on the worktop, the bottle of red open beside them, leaving Molly with the overwhelming wish that the visitor had taken just one sip of the wine and left their DNA behind. But they hadn’t.

  ‘I know you hate him, and I know he deserves to be in prison. But I really miss him.’ Blinking repeatedly, Beth’s hand brushed away the tears that were now rolling down her pale freckled face, her despair and teenage heartbreak more than obvious.

  Pulling her sister towards her, Molly held her close. ‘I promised Mum I’d always look after you, that I’d keep him away from you. And no matter how grown up you get, I will always do my best to keep that promise, because I don’t trust him, and neither should you.’ She dropped a kiss on her sister’s forehead. ‘Okay?’

  Beth squirmed, nodded, and tried to smile. ‘So, you took me to live on a cliff, miles away from anywhere?’ She paused, looked thoughtful. ‘Is that why you’re hiding that letter, the one in your bag that says he’s getting out. The one addressed to Mum. The one you didn’t show me?’

  Closing her eyes for a beat, Molly took in a cautious breath. Used both hands to push herself up. Tried to weigh up her emotions. Felt a surge of guilt, didn’t know if it was because Beth had found the letter, or because she’d wanted to tell her herself. ‘I would have told you. The removal men passed the letter to me. It had been at Mum’s when they emptied the house. I’m sorry. But I didn’t tell you for your own good, I don’t want him near you and what’s more, I didn’t take you miles from anywhere. I took you to a house that our mum left to us in her will. And in the absence of having nowhere else to live, it seemed like as good a place as any.’ She kept her eyes on her phone, wondered if she should admit to the text. Realised that whether she liked it or not, Charlie knew where they were.

  ‘Moll, I want to see him.’

  ‘Well, you can’t.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Beth. I’m not arguing. Mum begged me not to let you near him. Even made me promise.’ She shook her head, held her sister’s gaze. ‘She must have said it for a reason and I can’t break that pro
mise, Beth. I just can’t.’ She sat calmly, waiting for an outburst. Hated the silence more. Eventually, she pointed through the window. ‘Beth, we could have a good home here. We could be happy. Do you see over there? On a clear day you can see the whole of Filey.’ Looking, they could see the harbour that rose up on a distant cliff before them. Small windows showed up like tiny dots of light, or stars that were trying to peek through the darkness, each one just a little more dulled than she’d have liked. ‘Each of those little lights is at least one household, one person who could be looking right back at us, right now. Do you realise that?’ She smiled and poked Beth in the ribs. ‘So, if you think about it, there are hundreds of people, right there, right in front of you.’

  Beth tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘Seriously, Moll, those houses, they’re at least two miles away.’

  Molly squinted. ‘It’s not two miles away, is it?’

  ‘If I stood on the cliff edge naked, I could guarantee that no one in Filey would see me.’ Stretching forward, Beth grabbed at the cardboard box that lay abandoned on the hearth and pulled at the last piece of pizza. ‘You want to share?’

  Molly shook her head, smirking at the fact that Beth had won the ‘takeaway’ tea after all. The delivery man had found them within minutes, and even though they’d cleaned the whole house soon after the furniture had been delivered, Beth had still insisted on camping in front of the fire, just like they had at the refuge.

  Pushing the last piece of cheese topping into her mouth, Beth picked up the can of soda and took a long slurp. ‘I’m so full,’ she announced as she flopped back against the pillows and massaged her stomach with a hand.

  Molly relaxed too. Allowed her eyes to close. Heard the bleep of her phone, grabbed at it and read the message.

  Hey Moll, how did the move go? You all unpacked? Dan xxx