by Lynda Stacey
‘Are you scared of him? Do you think he’d ever hurt you?’ Jackson’s voice was becoming more and more urgent. His arms flaying up and down in the air. ‘You have to tell me, Beth. And quickly.’
‘Why would you even ask that? Right now, it’s you that’s scaring me.’
Shrugging his shoulders, Jackson turned, punched out at the cliff. Screamed, rubbed his knuckles down his wetsuit. ‘Look. I have to go. But trust me, it’ll all be for the best, you’ll see.’ Leaning quickly forward, Jackson once again pressed his lips firmly against hers, then stepped away, grabbed at his surfboard. ‘Just remember it wasn’t all a game.’ He held her gaze. ‘Honest, it wasn’t.’
Watching him disappear down the wooden steps, Beth was about to follow him, to ask him what he meant, but as she ran across the road, she heard a noise, someone calling her name in almost a whisper. Stopping in her tracks, she spun around, searched the trees, the undergrowth, spotted Charlie stood within, felt her stomach do a nervous somersault.
‘Quick, over here.’ He was standing hidden behind a tree that stood by the bungalow’s gate. Holding it open, he beckoned her across, anxiously kept one eye on the lane, making sure he wasn’t seen.
Hesitating, Beth held her breath, stared in disbelief that Charlie, that her dad, was standing there, on the lane where she lived. Repeatedly, she spun around, tried to work out where he’d come from, how he’d got there and then she remembered Jackson’s question, how he’d said he shouldn’t have taken her to the bungalow. Shocked, she picked up her rucksack, took a step towards where her dad stood. Knew that if she saw her, Molly would be furious, especially after all the lectures she’d been given. Every single one came rushing back, leaving Beth feeling torn between doing what was right for her sister and getting the chance to see her dad, to speak to him, to ask him all the questions she’d wanted to ask for as many years as she could remember.
Taking in a deep breath, she swallowed hard, thought about how Molly and the neighbour had brazenly walked down the stairs just that morning. The look of hurt on Dan’s face and her overwhelming annoyance that Molly hadn’t done what was right, what Beth had repeatedly asked her to do. It wasn’t as though it was someone new, she’d loved Dan once, so surely she could have loved him again. The simple fact was that she’d chosen not to and in doing so, she’d taken away any dream Beth had had about them all living together, happily as one family unit. ‘She let you down…’ Beth whispered. ‘She chose her own path, one that had not a thought for you, and now, now you get to choose your own path too.’
In a half run, she headed across the lane, gave her dad a quizzical smile. Wondered how he’d known she’d be there and then sighed as even to her, it was more than obvious what had happened and with images of Jackson in her mind, she could see the constant messages, the unscheduled, impromptu meetings, the rambled words, followed by the unexpected kiss. ‘Well, I’d ask how you knew I’d be here, but I’m guessing Jackson did your dirty work for you?’ With an anger she didn’t know she possessed, she spat the words, didn’t really want to know the answer and looked across the sand to see the boyfriend she’d thought she’d had run into the waves, his body flat on the board, his arms and hands paddling masterfully against the tide.
‘Wanting to see my daughter isn’t dirty work, is it? He’s a good lad, been keeping an eye on you for me, that’s all.’ Charlie grinned sarcastically. ‘Didn’t know how else to get hold of you; my parole has restrictions. I can hardly come knock on the door, can I? And the boy, well, he kind of owed me. So, I pulled in a favour or two.’
‘You forced him to be friends with me?’ she asked in disbelief, and with her heart lurching in her chest, she threw an arm outward, saw Charlie’s hand immediately shoot out and grab at her wrist. Then, as quickly as he’d reacted, he released her, and she watched as he slowly blew out through his teeth. Stunned, Beth stared at the floor, rubbed at her wrist, felt her bottom lip begin to quiver. ‘I need to get home.’
‘Hey, come on, I’m sorry. It was a reaction, that’s all,’ he scoffed. ‘When you’ve been in prison for a while, you make sure that anything flying towards you gets deflected.’ He lowered his head apologetically, tipped it to one side, caught her eye. ‘Now, are you gonna give your old dad a hug, let him say hello properly?’ He held his arms out and dutifully, she stepped into his hold, hugged him back until over his shoulder, she spotted Niall jogging along the beach, towards the steps.
‘I should probably go, our Molly’s boyfriend is about to run this way.’ She raised her eyebrows, pointed to the beach. ‘And I’ve already had one run in with him this morning. I really don’t fancy another.’
Quickly, Charlie moved through the gate of the derelict bungalow, pushed it open. ‘Come on, let’s go inside. You don’t want him seeing me and telling your Molly.’ He took hold of her hand, began to plough a route through the leaves. ‘She’d phone the police and if she does, I’ll end up back inside, and I really don’t want that, do you?’
Obligingly, Beth followed him to stand in the makeshift kitchen. Watched him move around it with ease and noticed that since the last time she’d been there, the kitchen had been tidied, the windowsill wiped, the ashtrays emptied and a wooden plank had been erected across one side of the room, where the camping stove now stood, along with two mugs, one plate, a bowl, and a knife and fork, all carefully stacked.
‘Come on in, come in.’ He held out a chair, dusted it off, poured water into a pan, and placed it on top of the camping stove. ‘I’ll make us a drink. Won’t take me a minute and then we can go sit down, have a chat.’ He pressed the button on the stove, rolled his eyes as the constant, click, click, click echoed around the house, as he tried to ignite it.
She studied his face, tried to remember how he had looked, compared to now. Realised that his crooked smile was the same, as were the dark bushy eyebrows that had always amused her as a child. His dark floppy hair had gone and in its place was a shorter, more cropped style that was peppered throughout with grey flecks. He looked more distinguished, she decided, until he looked up, caught her eye and she noticed that the vividly sparkling eyes she remembered from her childhood had been replaced with a deep, overcast and sullen look that reminded her of a bad-tempered gorilla.
‘I’ve waited years to see you.’ He flashed her a look, a sidewards smile. ‘Do you know that?’ He hovered over the pan, watched it boil, took two mugs from the pile of crockery and spooned Bovril into each. ‘Sorry, I’d have made coffee but there’s no milk and no damned shop around here for miles… so.’ He tapped the side of the mug with the spoon, watched the last of the brown sticky fluid drop into them. ‘Bovril it is.’
Amused by his terminology, with the fact that he’d used the exact same phrase that she had, she stood up. She leaned against the door and could hear a distant yell. The sound of Molly on the lane, shouting her name. ‘I should go, that’s Molly, she’ll be worried, she’s shouting me.’
He slammed his fist down on the table. ‘I’ve been worried about you. Every day for ten years I worried about you and it’s my damn turn. Not Molly’s.’ He moved himself in front of the door, turned the key in the lock. ‘So as far as I’m concerned, Molly can damn well wait.’ His voice came out as a growl. He looked nervously around the kitchen, pushed the key into his pocket, poured hot water on the drinks.
‘Come on, down here.’ He ushered her down the corridor and into a room in the middle of the house. It was the same room that Beth had almost pushed the door open to just a few days before, the one Jackson had stopped her from entering. A room with no windows, just a two-seater leather settee, an oversized bean bag, a pile of boxes and randomly placed candles that gave the room an eerie amber glow.
‘You’ve been here the whole time, haven’t you? You were listening to every word we said, I…’ She thought of the time she’d sat with Jackson, the way she’d poured her heart out, with her dad in this very room, listening. ‘What did you do, sit in the dark?’
‘I had to be near you, to wa
tch you. What’s more, once and for all, I had to work out what the damned truth was, all by myself.’
‘What damned truth? And you hardly worked anything out by yourself if you had a sixteen-year-old boy doing your dirty work for you, did you?’ Angrily, she sat down on the bean bag, pulled at a thread on her jeans, felt her mouth go dry to the point she could no longer swallow. The thought that Molly was out there looking for her made her stomach twist uncomfortably, while her mind screamed at her to leave. Keeping her eyes on his face, she saw a stern, unforgiving look. Suddenly, it was a look Beth remembered only too well. The one he’d often used when she’d been small, misbehaving, and in need of a lesson. The one she’d been terrified of as a toddler, and the one that had haunted her for all of the early years while she’d lived at the refuge. It had been a side of him she’d chosen to forget.
‘I need to call Molly, tell her I’m okay.’ With her eyes fixed on him, she pulled her mobile from her bag, began to flick at the screen. Then jumped backwards as he launched himself forward.
‘You’re phoning no one.’ As he grabbed the phone from her hand, Beth screamed, watched as the phone flew through the air and violently hit the wall. The screen imploded on impact and the phone fell to the floor with a loud, explosive bang.
‘That’s mine, you can’t do that.’ She stared in disbelief, her eyes fixed on the phone. ‘Our Molly, she’ll be furious, she’ll…’
The sound of the door slamming made her jump, the candlelight wavered with the sudden gust of wind, and Beth closed her eyes as she heard the click of a key turning in a lock.
45
Seeing Niall emerge around the corner of the lane, Molly smiled and shouted to Dillon, who happily ran to her side, dropped his ball by her feet and eagerly waited for her to throw it. Whereas Niall stood at a distance, awkwardly looking on.
‘Did you see Beth down there?’ She nervously bit down on her bottom lip, walked to the edge of the lawn, to look at the beach where she studied the waves, the surfers, the people watching. ‘She ran off while I was in the shower and I can’t see her.’
Niall slowly shook his head, walked to the cliff edge and stood beside her. ‘Well, I don’t think I saw her, or at least I should say that I got to walk along the beach without anyone hurling abuse or toast at me.’ He gave a confident nod. ‘So, I’d say you should definitely look for her somewhere else.’
Pacing, she took in deep, unhurried breaths. ‘Carol Cooper, they found her. It was on the news.’ She pointed to the cliff tops. ‘Somewhere along there.’
Niall nodded. ‘Yes, you can see the police activity from the beach. A big white tent’s been erected, although…’ he held a hand to his forehead, used it as a sun shield, ‘not sure a tent will hold if another storm blows in.’ Pensively, he picked up the ball, threw it along the lane, gave a wry smile as Dillon took up chase and stormed through every puddle.
‘Maybe you were right.’ She rolled her eyes up the house, to the roof, to where Michael had been, another tragedy, another accident, another death. ‘Maybe it does have supernatural powers.’
Crossing her arms protectively, Molly took a step back from the cliff, ran a finger across the sleepers, the ones Dan had ordered, had been going to lay. ‘He did this to stop me being with you, do you know that?’ She could still see the venom in Dan’s eyes, the way he’d thrown every word across the room. ‘And last night, nothing consensual happened, he forced himself on me outside the taxi rank. He was trying to make you jealous and, by the looks of it, he succeeded.’ She tried to stay calm, lifted her fingers to her lips. ‘When Grandad took me back to the surgery, to collect my car, I did what you said, went inside, made some coffee, and Dan was there. He said things I didn’t understand.’
Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she caught Niall’s eye, watched as he stepped towards her, took her in his arms. ‘He was my friend. He said horrible things. Said he’d been working for Charlie.’ She began to tell Niall what had been said, tried her best not to sob. ‘I don’t know what any of it meant. All I can think is that he knows something about Michael, about my mum, about what happened to them and now they’ve found Carol Cooper. I’m terrified he might have had something to do with her death too?’ She took a breath, felt the panic rise in her voice. ‘Am I next on the list? Is that what he meant? And if so, why? What did I ever do wrong to Dan? He was supposed to be my friend.’ She held onto Niall. Nuzzled into his neck, felt the anger run through him.
‘I hope for his sake he never shows himself around here again.’ Niall pulled her tightly into his body. Held her close. ‘We need to phone the police.’ His fingers lifted to her face. He tipped her chin slowly upwards, gently kissed her.
‘I don’t know what to say, it’s just hearsay, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know, but we have to find out and that’s their job, not ours.’ Taking a step backwards, Niall caught her eye, gave her a reassuring smile. Shook his head. ‘He’ll never hurt you again. Not if I can help it.’
Tears rolled down Molly’s face. ‘You can’t say that though, can you? You’re not my babysitter and look how much has happened already. Look how many have already died.’ She stared at the house. It was her home, the one place she was supposed to feel safe. ‘It just can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
Taking a swift step back towards her, Niall’s hands went to each side of her face, held her in position, gave her no option but to look directly into his eyes. ‘I’ll make you a promise. Whatever it takes, I will look after you. All you have to do is ask and I’ll take care of things.’ Carefully he kissed her mouth, ran a finger tentatively across her lips. ‘Do something for me?’
‘Anything.’ She nodded, knew it was true.
‘Pack a couple of bags for you and for Beth. Go to your gran’s.’ He held a finger to his lips, urged her not to speak. ‘Stay there. Just for a day or two. Let me deal with this. My way.’
‘I will… just as soon as I find Beth.’
46
Shivering relentlessly, Beth moved carefully around the room, squeezed her body between cardboard boxes. All were stacked on top of each other, all leaning against the wall.
‘Charlie, Dad, whatever the hell I’m supposed to call you. This isn’t funny. I want to go home,’ she demanded. ‘Are you listening?’ She continued to knock and kick at the door. Felt the pain in her knuckles. Felt her frustration rise. A sob left her throat, and she felt the hot scalding tears fall down her cheeks. ‘He can’t keep you here,’ she whispered to herself, shook her head, shrugged. ‘He just can’t. And… and… they’ll come looking. Won’t they?’ She thought of her sister. Of Molly. Of all the times she’d told her how dangerous Charlie was. How their mother had hidden in the refuge, night after night, knowing he’d find ways of getting to them if he could. ‘She’ll come, Molly will come, she… she was looking for me, shouting me,’ she sobbed. ‘She won’t stop, not till she finds me. I just know it.’
With her eyes fixed on the door, she slid down the wall to sit on the floor as the candlelight began to fade and, quickly, she dug around in a small plastic bag. Pulled more of the tea light candles out, lit them and stood them on the small table next to the now cold and congealed mug of Bovril.
Wishing she’d worn a watch, she tried to work out the time, wondered whether Jackson would have finished surfing, whether he’d realise what Charlie had done, come to the bungalow and unlock the door. She lifted a finger to her lips, thought of the kiss.
‘Were you really working for Charlie?’ She shook her head in disbelief, went over all the things she’d said to him. All the things Charlie could have heard. The thought made her kick out violently. She felt her foot connect with the door, then she kicked out again, harder.
Opening her rucksack, Beth dug around inside. She pulled out her books. Her make-up bag. Hoped for a random chocolate bar to be buried inside. When she found nothing, she began pulling open the boxes that were scattered around the room, searched inside. The contents were things that had bee
n hurriedly packed and poorly sealed, the layer of dust that covered each and every object made it obvious the items had been stored and Beth wondered if they’d been Charlie’s things, things her mum would have packed, and item by item, she pulled each one out, sat on the floor, studied it, tried to pull back a relevant memory.
A small silver box caught her attention. It was a box she remembered, a box she’d seen many times in her parents’ room, a box that as a youngster she hadn’t been allowed to touch. Now that same box intrigued her and she placed it on the table, stared at it for a while. Took note of the markings, the image of a phoenix carved into the precious metal. Swallowing hard, she dared herself to open it, kept one eye on the door, sure that the moment she did, Charlie would come in, catch her in the act, look at her with those big silverback eyebrows.
Tentatively, she stroked the box with one finger. She moved a candle closer, then timidly she prised it open and stared disbelievingly at the gun that must have always been in there, in her house, when she’d been a child. ‘Why, why would anyone have a gun?’ She backed away from the box, felt the air leave her lungs, knew that her dad, Charlie, had gone to prison for murder, for shooting someone. ‘Was this the gun?’ She shook her head, tried to rationalise what she’d found, why he’d have it and the fact that after he’d gone to prison, the house had been searched. ‘The police didn’t find it.’ Doubt crossed her mind. She tried to focus, to think about the box, about whether she could ever remember seeing it after he’d gone to prison and clearly remembered it being something their mum had kept. Which meant that Charlie must have been in their house, digging around in their mother’s things. Her eyes immediately dropped on the picture, the one that had been in their hallway, the one taken while she and Molly had slept.
‘Dad. Where are you?’ With her back to the wall, she used the side of her foot to kick repeatedly at the door. It connected with the panel like a bass drum, constantly beating to the rhythm of a tune. ‘So, you broke into our house, did you?’ She spat the words. ‘Well, if you want the gun, you need to come and get it.’ She laughed, tutted. ‘That’s right, I found your gun and if you don’t come and let me out soon, I might just shoot out the lock, the door, and hope to God you’re standing behind it.’