Whatever Happened to Betsy Blake?

by David B Lyons

  ‘Course I won’t.’

  Dod winks at me then turns around and I hear him run up the stairs.

  I lie back on the sofa and watch as Gordon calls more cooks up to him at the top of the room before he samples their dinners. He high fives the next cook and tells him that his chicken is cooked to perfection. But just as he is about to put the next cook’s dinner in his mouth, the silly voice over man says ‘next time on Masterchef’. Uuuugh. I hate when it does that. I’ll have to wait till tomorrow to find out what happens. I pick up the remote and begin to press at the buttons to see what is on the other channels. I don’t see anything that I’d like to watch. Then I remember. The back door is open a bit.

  I put the remote down and walk slowly into the hall. Really, really slowly. I don’t want Dod to hear me. If he sees me, he will go crazy. I tip-toe towards the back door and when I get there, I push at it gently. It doesn’t creak. It just opens up silently.

  The brightness of the outside almost blinds me. I have to close my eyes. When I open them I am amazed. I’ve never seen the back garden before. The grass is really long. Really, really long. It’s probably up to my waist. At least. But it’s beautiful. Really green and beautiful. Birds are chirping in the big tree over in the next garden. The sun is really high in the sky, and there is a little breeze that is making the grass look as if it is waving at me. The wind feels so nice on my face. It makes me stand still. I would love to stay out here for the rest of the day. I breathe in some of the wind up my nose, then let it out really slowly. I can taste it at the back of my mouth. It’s so nice. The nicest breath I have ever taken.

  As I breathe in again I stare at the fence that separates our house from the next door neighbour. I bet it’s about my height. I wonder if I could climb over it.

  I let my breath out really slowly again. These breaths taste so nice. While I am tasting it at the back of my mouth I hear Dod speaking to me. ‘I trust you, Betsy.’ He says it three times. I open my eyes, turn around and step back inside. I close the door as slowly as I can without making a noise and then tip-toe straight to the basement and back down the steps.

  14:45

  Gordon

  ‘She’s not fucking dead!’ I scream. But only inside my head. I remain still, until Michelle removes her hands from either side of my face. Then I open my eyes, stare up at her. She’s almost in tears, her eyes glazed over. I wanna hold her, whisper sweet nothings in her ear – tell her how much I miss her, how much I miss Betsy, how much I miss us. But I don’t. I just lie flat on my back and let my mind wander in a million different directions. Guus? Guus? The fucker won the lottery after Betsy was kidnapped. He took over the company, bought a massive big house out in Clontarf. The cunt had motive. It all makes sense. I want to grab at my phone, ring Lenny back. But I remain still, Michelle towering over me. She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, then takes one step back, removes her coat and hangs it across the back of the blue plastic chair.

  ‘I’m really sorry you are going through this, Gordon, I really am,’ she says. I continue to stare up at the ceiling, not sure whether I should be listening to Michelle’s voice or the one inside my head. ‘I sincerely hope you get through this, get yourself together.’ She sits in the blue plastic chair, scoots it a little bit closer to me and then grabs at my left hand, gripping it between both of hers.

  It’s been years since Michelle and I have sat in the same room, let alone held hands. I feel so grateful that she’s come up to see me just before my surgeries, but she’s hardly going to tell me all is forgiven; she’s hardly going to say all of this wasn’t my fault. I curl my fingers, gripping her hands in a sign of gratitude.

  I wouldn’t mind talking it all out with her; tell her she’s a fool for buying De Brun’s theory; tell her she was a fool for leaving me at my most vulnerable time; tell her that my failing heart is most likely all down to her. But there’s no value in me spending my final ten minutes on earth arguing with my ex wife. My mind shifts again. Guus? I begin to hear his smarmy little face scream out to me. ‘I took your daughter. And your fucking business.’ He keeps saying it, over and over again before he produces that horrible, snidey fucking laugh he has. ‘I took your daughter. And your fucking business.’ He’s still repeating it as I solemnly stare over at Michelle. He’s still repeating it as I decide to strike up small talk with her.

  ‘How’s life?’

  She offers a vacant huff of a laugh.

  ‘We don’t need to talk about me,’ she says.

  ‘No… no I want to,’ I offer up. ‘I need the voices in my head to stop. Let’s just talk… like adults. Honestly. How have you been?’

  ‘Shit,’ she says, producing a short snort of laughter out of her nose. Jesus, how much I’ve missed that laugh. ‘I mean, the banks have let us all go, I’ve no job for the first time in my adult life. The twins are causing trouble in school. I mean…’ she stops. ‘I mean… I guess it’s nothing compared to… compared to being sick. But… life’s just… well life’s just shit, I guess.’

  Wow. Michelle hasn’t opened up to me in years.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ I say. ‘Y’know when I found out ACB were closing down, I was going to call you, tell you how sorry I was to hear you’d lost your job, but…’ I shrug my shoulder and nod my head. She knows what I mean.

  ‘Thank you,’ she pouts at me.

  She lets out a small sigh, then releases her hands from mine.

  ‘I eh… need to visit the rest room. I need to wipe my eyes, freshen up,’ she says.

  She points to the door inside my room and I nod to confirm to her that it is indeed a toilet cubicle. Then, as she disappears behind the door, I grab at my mobile phone, press at Lenny’s number as quickly as I can.

  Fuck! It rings out. I begin to type a text; to get him to ring me back straight away. While I’m typing, I notice the time. 14:49. Fucking hell. I might only have eleven minutes left to live. I’m re-reading my text and am about to send it when the phone begins to buzz in my hand.

  ‘Lenny, what the hell’s going on?’ I snap down the line, though I snap it as quietly as I possibly can.

  ‘I’m at Guus Meyer’s house,’ he says. He’s whispering too. ‘Guus was a suspect for De Brun back in the day, Gordon. They never told you about him because of some sensitive information relating to the cop’s interest in him. But I’m questioning him about all of that now and I’ll have answers for you in the next few minutes. I’m going in to search his house now.’

  ‘Are you telling me Guus took Betsy?’ I can actually physically feel my heart rate rise, but at this stage I really don’t give a shit.

  ‘That’s what I intend finding out.’

  ‘They’re coming to get me for my surgery in a few minutes. I don’t have much time.’

  ‘Gordon, I promise you I will ring you back before three o’clock. Guus’s house is odd. Very odd. There’s something not quite right about it. He has a basement that I wanna get inside. After I check it all out, I promise I will ring you back. And I’ll have answers for you. Now… are you keeping your promise to me?’

  I stare over at the envelope resting on my bedside cabinet, then hear somebody outside my room. They begin to wrestle with the handle of the ward door.

  ‘Lenny, I gotta go. Ring me back!’

  I manage to hang up and then hide the phone under my sheets before the door fully opens. Bollocks!

  ‘Gordy, Gordy, I found her. I fuckin found her. I know where Betsy is!’

  I stare up at him as if I’m staring at a ghost.

  He moves closer to me, right to the edge of my bed, then leans over and stares into my eyes.

  ‘Have you got that copy of your will – leaving your house to me? If you have it signed, I’ll tell you where she is.’

  I remain schtum, stunned. Then my eyes go wide when I hear a rustling in the cubicle. Oh fuck. Michelle. The door snaps open and out she strides. Straight towards him.

  ‘You fucking scumbag bastard,’ she screams
, clawing at his face. I can actually see rows of cuts form under his eyes.

  ‘Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you, Alan Keating,’ she howls. She’s on top of him, slapping, punching, scraping.

  I throw my legs over the side of the bed, and ready myself to pounce on Michelle; to take her off Keating. But then the ward door opens wide. It seems as if the whole of the bloody surgery team are there. Each of them open-mouthed at what they’re witnessing, Elaine front and centre of the group. She looks up at me, then back down at the two wrestlers on the floor.

  14:50

  Lenny

  Lenny feels his wrist begin to shake a little, which in turn makes his entire hand, even his fingers, shake. He takes the first step down, more wary of what’s going on behind him as opposed to what may lie in front of him. He takes another step down, then another – walking towards the darkness. The light from the hallway behind him is all that guides his next step. He inches an ear towards the dark, the deathly silence making his heart sink a little.

  As he reaches the bottom of the steps, he flinches upon hearing Guus’s arm shoot up behind him. He turns around, elbows up, ready to defend himself.

  Click.

  Guus has pulled at a hanging light switch. Lenny doesn’t take the time to sigh a relieved breath; he just swings his head back around, takes in the basement. Boxes. More boxes. An old washing machine. More boxes. Shelves with boxes on them. He swallows hard, then holds his hands up, palms out, as if to signify some sort of an apology. Or maybe it’s just disappointment. He’s beginning to think Guus isn’t involved at all. Yet why does he always produce that snidey laugh that screams ‘guilty’? Lenny looks back and sees Guus shrug a shoulder, a sly grin on his face.

  ‘Wanna check she’s not inside any of the boxes?’ he says, then delivers that horrible laugh out of the side of his mouth again.

  Lenny holds two fingers to the centre of his forehead and bows his head a little. Heat rises within him, as if his blood is coming to boiling point.

  ‘Betsy! Betsy!’ he shouts from the top of his voice.

  He brushes Guus aside, runs past him and back up the steps.

  ‘Betsy Blake. I’m here to save you. To bring you home!’

  He sprints in to the living room opposite the kitchen. Then darts back into the hallway and into a large dining room. Back out into the hallway. Up the stairs.

  ‘Betsy! Betsy!’

  Into one bedroom. Then another. A bathroom. Another bedroom.

  ‘Betsy!’ he ends up in the middle of the square landing; his voice echoing off the walls and back into his own ears. As he hears himself calling Betsy’s name, his face cringes. He takes two steps backwards until his back leans against the wall. Then he slides down it slowly into a seated position, and sinks his eyeballs into the caps of his knees.

  ‘What the fuck am I doing?’ he whispers into his crotch.

  Then footsteps sound out. Slowly coming up the stairs towards him. He doesn’t look up. He feels too ashamed, too embarrassed.

  Guus shuffles towards him, then slips down into a seated position, their shoulders almost touching. Nobody says anything; Lenny’s frustrated breathing the only sound between them.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he finally mumbles.

  Guus lets out a soft sigh.

  ‘I think old Gordon has made you jusht as deluded as he is,’ he says.

  Lenny almost edges to peel his eyes up from his knee caps, but stops himself. He can’t bring himself to look at Guus. He’s never been more mortified at any point in his whole life.

  ‘You didn’t really think I took her, did you?’

  Lenny doesn’t answer. He can’t find the words to justify his madness. He just closes his eyes firmer, forces them deeper into his knee caps. He begins to question whether or not he genuinely believed Betsy was here. He actually can’t remember. The past ten minutes have been a bit of a blur. A cringe runs down his spine, making him shudder.

  Guus nudges his shoulder against Lenny’s.

  ‘Look, maybe you got carried away, but it’s not all your fault. You were just doing a job.’

  There’s a hint of sympathy in Guus’s voice. Lenny can’t understand why he’d be sympathetic, certainly doesn’t think he himself would be that sympathetic if somebody ran around his house calling out for a missing girl.

  Lenny lets out a grunt; a real frustrated ugly yelp. Then he shakes his head as he wonders why the hell he thought he could solve a seventeen-year-old mystery in just five hours.

  ‘Cops questioned me seventeen years ago and let me go within a few hours,’ Guus says, interrupting Lenny’s swirling mind. ‘I was in Birmingham alright when Sarah McClaire was taken, but I was in a meeting with twenty-five other people. I wasn’t anywhere near the area that poor girl went misshing from. And when Betsy went misshing, I was on a phone call here to a client of mine. The cops know all this, I had alibis that were proven to be correct within minutes of me being questioned. I don’t know what elshe to say to you… it wasn’t me who took Betsy. In fact, nobody took her, well nobody abducted her. She was killed when a car hit her, her body taken and disposed of somewhere. I thought everybody in the country knew that. Well, everybody except Gordon. It’sh kinda why we had to buy him out of the company. Gordon went… well, Gordon went a bit mad. The guy’s nuts, Lenny.’

  Lenny shakes his head one more time, then finally peels each of his eyes from his knee caps. He raises his left hand a little, rests it on Guus’s knee.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Then he rises up, manages to get himself safely to his feet without stumbling despite his head still spinning. He rests his palm against the wall for balance, takes a deep breath, then he reaches down to Guus, pats him on top of the head and apologises again. He staggers towards the stairs, trudges down each step as if he’s got major back problems and then finds himself out in the hallway.

  ‘Listen, when you talk to Gordon, pass on my best wishes, and tell him I mean that genuinely,’ Guus shouts down the stairs.

  Lenny doesn’t answer. He wrestles with the zip of his jacket pocket, then whips out his mobile phone and checks the time on the top of his screen. 14:58. He told Gordon he’d ring him back before three; told his wife he’d be at the school for a meeting at three. He thumbs the buttons on his phone.

  ‘Priorities. Priorities,’ he mumbles to himself as he opens Guus’s front door and steps out, finding himself in the messy garden once again. He looks up as the tone rings. And rings. The sun is starting to dominate the sky, a light blue winning out against the grey.

  ‘Bollocks,’ he says when the tone rings out. ‘Please answer, sweetie.’

  He rings again; breathes in some fresh air through his nostrils as he waits. It rings out. He thumbs his way into his text messages.

  Sweetie. I’m getting a taxi home right now. I’ll be with you soon. I’m so sorry about today. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. Love you. X

  Then he scrolls into his contacts list, presses at another number as he walks up Avery Street towards the main Clontarf Road.

  ‘Hello, Lynck Cabs.’

  ‘Hi, I need another taxi please. I’m on the Clontarf Road, I’ll be waiting just outside The Yacht pub.’

  ‘No problem, Sir, we’ll have one with you in less than ten minutes.’

  After Lenny hangs up, he edges the phone closer to his mouth, begins to nibble on the rubber cover as he tries to straighten his thought process. He can’t put this phone call off much longer. He tilts the screen towards his eyes. Checks the time. 15:00. Then he looks up to the sky, squints at the brightness.

  ‘Fuck it,’ he says, then thumbs at his phone again, holds it to his ear. It rings. And rings. Until finally a click confirms the call has been answered.

  ‘Thank fuck, Lenny,’ Gordon says, almost panting down the line. ‘They’re bringing me down to theatre now, what have you got for me?’

  One year ago

  Betsy

  Dod turns off the light in the back hallway and then inc
hes towards the door. When he opens it, he steps out, looks around at the back of the houses behind us, his head turning left, then right. Then left, then right again. He turns to me and curls his finger to let me know I can follow him. He does the same thing every time.

  I pull at the door really carefully to step out and immediately breathe in through my nose to taste the fresh air in the back of my throat. It’s the first thing I do every time Dod lets me out the back. He’s been letting me do this for nearly a year now. I couldn’t stop thinking about that time I sneaked out and really, really wanted to ask him to let me outside. But I didn’t know how I could ask him without letting him know that I had sneaked outside once while he was upstairs. So when he asked me what I wanted for my nineteenth birthday last year, I told him I would love nothing more than to breathe in some fresh air. He really didn’t want to do it, but after he turned out all of the lights in the back of the house, he realised nobody would be able to see us. We just have to stay quiet, that way nobody will ever know we are here.

  He lets me out here every Saturday night. Just as a treat. He always stares at me as I take long breaths up through my nose. We stay here until Dod feels as if it’s too cold, then we go back inside. Saturdays are always fun. There’s always something good on the TV whatever time of the year. We like to watch Strictly Come Dancing. And when that’s not on, there might be Britain’s Got Talent. Or Saturday Night Takeaway. Ant and Dec are really funny. I think I might fancy Dec. He has a really pretty smile and everything he does makes me laugh. He doesn’t have to do much. He might just look down the camera or something like that and it makes me giggle.

  I don’t have to cook on a Saturday. Dod orders Pizza. We get pepperoni, chicken tikka and green peppers on our pizza. It’s so yummy. It’ll probably arrive in about ten minutes’ time.

  It’s cold tonight. I put my arms around Dod’s waist and lean my ear in to his chest as I breathe in the air.