‘“A lion?” Mike looked at me, surprised, then laughed mockingly.
‘Still, I knew I’d gotten to him. ‘“Come on, let’s get some kindling.”
‘Even Ivy joined in, once she saw we were serious. The dunes harboured a useful amount of wild grasses, many of them turning yellow. We pulled these out by the handful and stuffed them under the floor of the beach hut, as though filling a mattress with down.
‘Sweating, despite the cold wind, I was finally satisfied and called them close. We huddled around the base of the hut, Mike in the middle with the matchbox, and he tried to light the straw. Rather than flare up, it shrivelled in the flame.’
‘“Give me your packet of tissues, Ivy.”
‘“Let’s stop. It’s not too late to stop.”
‘“Whist, now, Ivy. This is what you want, isn’t it, Mike?”
‘I knew he was excited by the situation, that in his imagination he was being brave and daring. Of course, it was actually the squalid act of particularly barbarous vandals. But Mike was more animated than I’d ever seen him: cheeks flushed, hands shaking as he struck a match, eyes constantly darting to confirm we were alone on the beach.
‘“Yes, come on, Ivy, give us that packet.”
‘We wedged the tissues in the V of a branch and this time, when Mike lit them, the fire really caught hold. When it was blazing, he pushed the fire as far as he could into the thick bunches of dry grass and this time they really caught.
‘Soon, tendrils of white and grey smoke emerged around us. Mike jumped up and down, barely able to contain himself from cheering. Beside me, Ivy looked anxious and I felt like slapping her. Instead, I took her arm. “Let’s go. Someone might see the smoke and come over.”
‘We hurried away, although all three of us paused from time to time to check on our fire. The beach hut was invisible for smoke and I was sure the job was well done. Even if a fire engine were to somehow get here, which was pretty much impossible, the contents of the hut were ruined.’
‘We got as far as the headland, where the road back to the village began, and stood together for one final look at the results of our arson. A long black plume of smoke was stretched inland, driven by the powerful coastal wind. It must have looked like this when Vikings burned round towers over a thousand years ago.’
‘“Well, that’s really something. How do you feel Mike?”
‘“Ace! This is really smashing. We’ve done something to them.”
‘“Ivy?”
‘“Guilty.”
‘“Oh, shape up Ivy. If you are going to get anywhere in this world, you have to take matters into your own hands and not let people walk all over you.”‘
At this point in her story Amy Philips looked right into my eyes and laughed bitterly. ‘I know, you think this ironic, don’t you? Me telling her to get a spine, when what I really wanted from her was submission.’
‘I wasn’t thinking that at all,’ I replied.
‘Oh, what were you thinking then?’
‘Nothing really. Only that there doesn’t seem anything pertinent here.’
‘That’s because I haven’t finished the story.’
‘Go on then,’ said McCarthy, dangerously.
‘The next day, after class, I hurried back to the beach, alone, with my camera. The fire had really done a great job on the hut and but for the breeze blocks that marked the base of it, you wouldn’t have known it had ever existed. It looked like someone had held a giant bonfire on the beach, except that some of the melted debris looked a little incongruous: a once-orange lifejacket; a swimsuit; a cracked mirror.
‘Standing so that my shadow would not fall on the sand before the ruin, I took a stick and drew in large letters: Mike Patterson did this! Then I added yesterday’s date underneath. This made for a good Polaroid, in fact I took two.
‘One, I posted to Marjorie Butler. Just the picture in the envelope. Her people could find out who Mike Patterson was. The other, I showed Ivy.
‘“What’s this?” she asked me.
‘“What do you think it is?”
‘“The beach hut?”
‘“Right.”
‘“But… why have you put Mike’s name in the picture?” Ivy asked the question, but there was already a tear forming in her eye. She knew.
‘“Ivy. You have to understand something about me. I’m dangerous. I’ve no fear. And I am capable of really hurting your family. I mean, this is nothing.”
‘“What have you done?”
‘“I’ve sent this picture to the owners of the boat house.”
‘“Why?”
‘“I need you to understand that if you ever, ever stop being my friend, I’ll hurt the people you love and I’ll hurt them badly.”
‘“Stop it, Amy, you’re scaring me.”
‘I stared at her long and hard. “Good.”
‘And how did Michael react when you told him?’ I asked, unable to keep a note of impatience out of my voice.
‘He pretty much wet himself. Turned white. Fell into a chair and didn’t speak for a while.’
‘And I guess he harboured a grudge thereafter?’ offered McCarthy.
‘Probably, but the silly boy was afraid of me and in awe of me too. So when we were teenagers, it was easy to make him go out with me.’
This could be important. I took up my pen. ‘You dated? From when to when?’
‘From when he was nineteen and I was seventeen, for two years.’
‘And did it end badly?’ McCarthy looked attentive for the first time in a while. I almost smiled.
Amy Philips straightened. Then she picked up a glass of water and took a drink.
‘I haven’t reached that point yet. But I will, if you let me.’
‘Oh, come on,’ muttered McCarthy, leaning over towards me but audible enough for Amy Philips to hear. ‘Can’t we just charge her with something? It will be less painful than hearing her life story.’
I shook my head. ‘Carry on, Ms Philips.’
Chapter Four
‘Let me tell you more about Ivy. Ivy was the reason I kept Mike around. Because she loved her brother very much, even though he was a fool. Perhaps because she understood he was a fool. If I hadn’t been able to threaten Mike’s happiness, I would have had a lot harder time with Ivy.
‘For instance, when she was thirteen, Ivy was rather good at chess. She learned not to beat me too often, because I would become bad-tempered. Out of nowhere that year, the school had a chess tournament, which was widely promoted and dozens of girls entered. With hindsight, I can see it was the initiative of our special education teacher, Ms Cutter. Ms Cutter had slightly eccentric teaching methods and used a lot of game play in her classroom. She had one student, Karla Fletcher, who was unable to read or write very well, but who had a real aptitude for chess.
‘Karla was overweight and spotty and bullied. Not by me. I rather sympathized with her and thought she might have potential to assist me some day. So, anyway, the chess tournament took place, with Karla and Ivy progressing on either side of the draw. I met Ivy in the quarter-final.
‘As we were playing and as I began to lose I reached forward with my foot, out of sight below the table, and tried to scrape her shin. Pulling back her legs, Ivy caught my eye and I gave her the face that meant she should lose to me or I would get angry.
‘Instead, however, she just hid below that mousey fringe and kept her attention on the board. I coughed. I pinched the back of her hand. I wanted to take the board and beat her over the head. But it was no use, Ms Cutter came over to watch and Ivy defeated me.
‘Red-faced, she shook my hand as I resigned and hurried away without a backward glance. Later, I heard a timid knock on my door.’
‘“Go away” I said, knowing it was her.
‘“Oh, Amy, I’m sorry, let me in.”
‘“All right.”
‘Hesitantly, the door opened and little Ivy came in a couple of steps, the door still open behind her.
�
�“It’s all right. You can close the door. I’m not angry.”
‘“Oh, thank you, Amy. Thank you. I just wanted to explain. I’m not good at many things in school. But the girls admire me when I do well at chess. I think I can win the competition, I really do. And I was so sorry when I got drawn against you. I know you wanted me to let you win and I nearly did. But then, I thought, how much it would mean. And – don’t be offended, Amy – but I don’t think you would have gotten through the semi-final.”
‘This speech all came out in a rush and it alarmed me, though I did not let anything show. For I’d never really seen Ivy contradict my wishes like this before. Oh, I mean, all the time she would say she disagreed with this course of action or that. But never before had she actually defied me properly. And this took place after I’d shown her that I could harm Mike.
‘In the heat of the competition, perhaps she’d forgotten all about what I’d said about hurting Mike. Perhaps she’d interpreted being my friend in a way that allowed her to beat me in the tournament. This was a turning point. What should I do? Retaliate somehow? Escalate? I certainly did contemplate various responses that would have shocked her deeply.
‘But if I didn’t have Ivy, I wouldn’t have anyone. My uncle didn’t care for me. In fact, later, just before I was eighteen, at which point I would inherit the estate, he tried to poison me. I didn’t trust anyone else in school. And hated Lucy and Oliver and everyone else back home...’
‘Just a minute,’ McCarthy looked surprised. ‘Attempted poisoning is a crime. Did you go to the police?’
I was beginning to recognize certain expressions in Amy Philips’s face. One was furtive, like the quick glance of a squirrel before it runs up a tree to escape your approach. That came now. ‘I’ll tell you all about this in due course. If you’ll let me go on.’
‘Hang on, I’ve another question.’ McCarthy raised her pen. Not that she’d taken any notes yet.
‘Yes?’
‘How were you in line to inherit the estate? Wouldn’t it go to the oldest or be shared out between the three of you?’
Amy Philips smiled. It was a superior, knowing expression, which she also cast in my direction. ‘You are a bit behind with your paperwork, aren’t you, sergeant? When I was sixteen, Oliver died in that army helicopter crash in Scotland. The one that they say was the result of an IRA missile. You remember? A lot of high-ranking officers died that day too.’
I nodded; McCarthy raised one eyebrow in surprise. ‘And Lucy?’ she asked.
‘Drowned herself the following year.’ Amy Philips raised her hand suddenly to cut McCarthy off from asking any further questions. ‘Now can I go back to my room and Ivy? This is important. You can ask about my family later.’
Letting out a sigh, McCarthy settled back in her chair. ‘Go on.’
‘So, I had a choice to make. And I decided to be conciliatory, rather than risk losing my grip on her. True, I had the photos of the theft of the brooch and I also had the brooch itself stashed away in the wall cavity, which I could plant in her room. True also, I’d frightened her with the way I’d incriminated Mike – nothing came of that, by the way – but this wasn’t enough. If I pushed her too hard, she might rather face up to the theft for the sake of freedom.’
‘“Ivy, dear. I know I am something of a bully at times. But you understand, don’t you? I’m desperately lonely. I have no parents, no friends apart from you. That’s no excuse though. It’s me who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to stand in the way of something you are good at.”
‘Ivy practically flung herself on me in relief. “Amy. I’m so glad you understand.” When she had recovered a little, she pulled back, still holding my arms. “I understand you Amy, really I do. Sometimes you scare me. But you don’t really mean to frighten me, do you?”
‘“I do and I don’t.”
‘Ivy looked puzzled. “What?”
‘“It’s a tough life and a tough school Ivy. To survive, you want everyone to be a little scared of you. Even your friends.”
‘“Scared of me? I... I can’t be like that.”
‘“No.” I smiled. “You can’t and I like that about you. Now, you can go and win the tournament. Enjoy your moment.”
‘For a long time after Ivy left me, I sat doing nothing, my heart pounding. It had been hard to offer her kindness and I was afraid of the consequences. Was I trusting her to remain loyal to me without the ties I had created that were under my control? If so, I was going against my mother’s dying words and was sure I’d regret it.
‘Worse was to come.
‘The following week, Ivy was playing in the final of the chess tournament against Karla. There were several people watching, including Ms Cutter, who no doubt was desperate to see her protégé win. It was obvious to me that Karla was suffering from a crisis of confidence: face bright red; constant shuffling on her seat; anxious, pleading looks around the room.’
‘Ivy was composed. Happy to be there. Smiling at me, hair back in a band. She looked pretty, in fact. For the first time I noticed she was beginning to fill out. As a young woman, she would have a lovely figure: slender with small, high breasts. Admittedly, except in the rare moments when she was animated by something, her face tended to be too dull and wooden and her eyes too haunted for her to ever radiate real beauty. But still, in that moment, I could see she would turn out well.
‘The game began and quickly went against the favourite, Karla, and towards Ivy, who won an exchange. Karla was choking and she was in agony. Poor Ms Cutter was wringing her hands. The teacher’s plan to reverse the school’s opinion of Karla was going to fail because Karla herself could not rise to the occasion. The girl was going to make herself fail, not because Ivy was better than her at chess, but because the school bullies had too strong a grip over Karla’s mind. They were in there now, demanding that Karla lose, much as I had demanded the same from Ivy. Only Karla was giving in to these voices.
‘Of course, no one actually cared enough to want Karla to lose. The crisis she was experiencing was all of her own making. In a room that was silent, but for the occasional click of a piece being captured, or Ivy, whispering, “Check”, the tension grew. Soon, it seemed, the end would come. Poor Karla, I’d never seen such bulging, tearful eyes.
‘And then something extraordinary and most troubling happened. Ivy looked up into the face of her opponent and decided to lose. I saw the precise moment this happened. Instead of her usual pale cheeks and mouth held in a tight and unhappy expression, Ivy flushed pink. Her dark eyes filled with the glow of compassion as though all her good nature were being released. And she nearly smiled as she returned her gaze to the board.
‘A moment later, to a sigh around the room, Ivy blundered her queen. I knew this was no accident. And I felt like walking over and shaking her. Karla, now fully recovered, played swiftly, determinedly and allowed Ivy no chance to regain the upper hand.
‘A cold chill ran through me. If Ivy was capable of this sacrifice, what did it mean? I had thought I knew all there was to know about this shy, lonely girl. That she was so weak I need never fear any action on her part that might go against my own will. But here she was, within reach of a tremendous achievement for her own status within the school. One that she herself recognized she needed. One that had given her the strength to resist me. And she was giving it up? Had given it up, for even as I was held in the grip of paralysis, I saw Ivy resign.
‘This was a defining moment for her and one I never would have predicted. I had an intuition that whatever maturity Ivy might have gained from winning the competition, she had gained ten times as much from allowing Karla to win.
‘While Ms Cutter almost pranced around the room, making a gushing speech, I forced a smile. Ivy turned to me with a shrug, at first acting as though nothing untoward had happened. But I noticed a flicker of concern cross her face as she read mine.
‘Later, I made her sit on my bed. “Ivy,” I asked her. “Why did you let Karla win?”
‘“I didn’t, I…” she was startled and it took her a moment to realize it was time to confess. “I felt sorry for her.”
‘“But, winning meant so much to you.”
‘“I thought it did, right until near the end. Then I saw how Karla was in a panic and suddenly, I felt that winning wasn’t so important. What do you think? Did I do the right thing?” Ivy’s question was genuine. She really didn’t know. Of course, there were a number of answers to this question, depending on your point of view. From mine, this was a terrible development. But I could hardly say so.
‘“If you wanted to make Karla fawn all over you for the rest of your time at school, then, yes, you did the right thing.”
‘“Oh, no. I don’t want that.”
‘“Well, that’s what you have achieved. She will be pathetically grateful.” I was a little bit jealous, in fact, not to have someone like Karla so indebted to me.
‘“But I did it because… Because people pick on her more than they do me. And it’s not fair. Karla’s really clever, just not at reading.”
‘“Why do you think Ms Cutter arranged the chess tournament?”
‘It took Ivy a moment to respond. But she was not stupid – which is one of the reasons I liked having her around – and nodded. “To help Karla’s self-esteem?”
‘“Exactly,” I replied, “it was all…
I interrupted. ‘Just now you used “was” when you said Ivy wasn’t stupid. Why the past tense? Is she dead?’
‘Sorry?’ Amy Philips looked at me crossly, irritated that I should interrupt her while at what was evidently the crux of her story.
‘Ivy was not stupid. Instead of is not stupid.’
‘But she’s left me. That’s why. That’s the right way of putting it, isn’t it?’
‘Not really.’ It was a pleasure, for once, to have some initiative in dealing with Amy Philips. ‘She left you a month ago and her parents haven’t heard from her. Could she be dead?’
Struggles of Psycho Page 3
