by Gwyn G B
‘I don’t care what the fuck you do so long as you all stay up there. The last thing we need is attention being drawn to us beforehand.’
Brian’s ears pricked up now and he managed to hear the other guy too.
‘Don’t you think we’re pushing it this time?’
‘You going yeller are ya?’ snarled Neil, ‘if you can’t take it then get out now, we don’t need a wimp in our group.’
‘No. No I’m game on, it’s just gonna be a toughie. What’s happening to the girl afterwards?’
‘She’ll just disappear.’
Brian’s heart jumped and his eyes scanned the brightly packeted sweets in front of him - but he wasn’t looking at then, his mind was racing.
‘If I were you I’d go and get some kip, it will be a long night.’
Brian’s stomach was knotted now and the tightness in his throat made him cough involuntarily making Neil aware he had somebody behind him. He slammed the door shut.
‘Brian Partridge, I’m sorry, how long have you been standing there.’
‘Just a few seconds,’ he was shaking a little. Neil looked menacing. ‘Need a few stamps for this,’ he handed over his letter and as he did so realised that in his fright he’d picked up a couple of chocolate bars, so he paid for those also.
‘We’re just having a bit of a party later,’ Neil smiled one of his extremely slimy, toothy smiles, ‘old school buddies, you know the type of thing.’
‘Oh good, good,’ was all Brian could say and he rapidly exited, forgetting all about the rain and nearly being mown over by a car.
He almost fell through the door of his shop in his haste and seeing that there were still no customers, turned round, pulled down the blinds and locked the door.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ Trudi asked and on seeing his face, ‘what’s the matter?’
‘There’s something going on,’ he said peering round the side of the blind at the Post Office.
‘Well that’s obvious.’
’Says he’s having a party, but you know what happened last time he said that don’t you?’ he didn’t wait for a reply, ’the church and graveyard were messed up,’ Trudi frowned and looked at her husband.
‘We’ve no proof,’ she replied.
‘No, but we’re not hanging around this evening. Ring your sister, we’ll go and stay with them for the night.’
‘Shouldn’t we do something, tell the police or something?’
‘Tell them what? It’s all just rumours and suspicions. No, we keep our mouths shut and our heads down then maybe we’ll be left alone too. His wife nodded, Brian nodded, Brian never had been one to stand up and fight and perhaps he was right; if you don’t cause trouble then trouble won’t come looking for you. She went into the back of the shop to call her sister.
Mary Leggett got back from her last visit just before five o’clock. She’d been tempted to call into into Alison’s again, but when she’d driven past she’d seen Robert West’s car was still in the lane and she didn’t doubt that there’d be another confrontation like they’d had that morning. So instead she went straight home and to the phone where she called her. Martha Hurrell answered again.
‘Oh I’m sorry Mary, Alison is asleep right now, but she’s fine don’t you worry.’
We’ll call you at the first sign of any problems,’ Mary was even less happy about the situation now. Why would Alison be asleep at five, Sophie would be home from school and she should be making her tea. Tom was sitting reading a paper and had heard her conversation.
‘You still worried about Alison Swift?’
‘Yes, very. Robert West’s car was still there and Martha Hurrell is the only one to answer the phone. I’ve got no reason to think those two would want to harm her, but it just doesn’t add up.’
‘Well look, I’m not working tonight. Why don’t you try her again in a couple of hours and if she doesn’t answer I’ll go over and take a look. Robert West doesn’t worry me and I can sneak in over the fields it will be dark by then.’
‘Well I don’t know, I don’t want you putting yourself in any danger.’
‘Danger? Oh mum come on, it’s just an old woman and a weedy git, I think I could manage those two.’
Mary looked at her son’s broad frame, twice the size of most of his peers and she had to agree.
‘Alright, thanks. If you don’t mind love.’
‘No, I don’t mind, I wouldn’t like to think Alison Swift is in trouble, she’s a nice lady and she’s all on her own out there.’
37
Alison woke up very slowly. Her mouth felt incredibly dry and her stomach and she was sore. For a few moments she’d forgotten about the birth in her groggy haze, but it didn’t take long for the memories to come flooding back. She scanned the dark room for her newborn son, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘Martha. Sophie?’ she weakly called out, her throat was almost too dry to speak. The house was dark and she had no idea what time it was. She rolled over to look at the clock, but it wasn’t there.
At the bottom of the stairs in the hallway, Michaela was on guard duty and heard her call out. She’d been sitting there playing with her Athame, running her finger along its blade and testing its weight in her hand. When she heard Alison she jumped up, pretending to attack her, slashing at the air with the knife. She didn’t go upstairs though to where her victim lay, instead she went into the kitchen to tell Martha she was awake.
Martha and her father were pouring over a map and making notes.
‘Then if we do get the signal we’ll just have to dump the equipment. But make sure they all know which routes to take. I want an organised escape, not people running everywhere.’ Michaela realised they were talking about tonight.
‘Is something going to happen?’ she asked a little worried all of a sudden.
‘No, nothing. We’re just planning ahead in case, replied Martha without taking her eyes from the route she was tracing with her fingers. ‘Why aren’t you in the hall?’
‘She’s woken up, Alison has,’ Martha jumped up and marched over to where the tiny baby was asleep in his cardboard box cradle. He still slept as she lifted him out, a consequence of what she’d been putting in his milk.
‘You two stay here. No, on second thoughts, you,’ she motioned at Michaela, ‘go and sit with Sophie, I don’t want her giving the game away just yet.’
Michaela ran off gleefully, fingering her knife as she went.
‘And you,’ Martha continued to Robert, ‘you go and get the stuff we need for our little bonfire.’
Robert nodded and then he too was gone.
‘Alison we were just downstairs. Did you have a good sleep?’ Martha walked into the bedroom where Alison had been in the process of getting herself out of bed.
‘I was worried,’ she said, breaking into a smile as she saw her baby and holding her arms open to receive him. ‘I didn’t know where he was, where you’d all gone.’
‘Well Sophie has gone to bed already, exhausted from all the excitement. You’ve not been asleep long.’ Martha looked at her watch which said eight thirty pm. It’s only just after seven. Can I get you something to eat or drink?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mind some toast and a cup of tea. Thanks Martha. What did my mum say when Sophie called?’
‘Said she’d be here tomorrow evening and congratulations.’
‘Great’.
‘Oh and I nearly forgot, Mary Leggett popped in, didn’t want to wake you, but checked the little ‘un over. He’s perfect she said. She seemed quite satisfied that you’d got rid of the afterbirth OK and said she’d be back to do a proper check on you tomorrow.’
‘That’s odd, didn’t she want to do it today?
‘No, she thought sleep was more important and she notified the hospital that you’ll be staying here.’
‘I see, OK, thanks Martha,’ but Alison was a little put out, it seemed like decisions were being made without her input. She began to feel like she wasn’t in control of the situati
on and she didn’t like it.
‘I’ll go and put the kettle on and make you that toast. What do you want on it?’
‘Butter and honey please.’
Martha left and Alison turned her full attention to her new-born son. He was still all squashed up like all new babies from his months in her womb and then the birth. She couldn’t see his eyes because he was asleep, but she thought she remembered them being green. He had lots of wispy blond hair and she began to wonder who he looked like the most, her or his father. She thought she could see a resemblance to Charlie and that served to remind her of his solicitor’s letter.
She couldn’t wait for her mum to get here, she needed to talk it all over with her, sit down and work through the options. It will mean telling her about Charlie’s visit to a prostitute, but none of that mattered so much now. What was important was the welfare of her new son. She was also feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment, perhaps it was the baby blues or something, but all the custody stuff certainly didn’t help and it would just be nice having her mother around the place.
Sophie was very confused. Martha was her friend, her protector. She’d been the one to get rid of Charlie so that she had her mother all to herself and she’d been the one who’d understood her fears of being replaced by the new baby. But something deep inside of her was telling her she should look after her new brother, that he wasn’t a threat and that her mother wouldn’t be very happy if their plan was seen through to the end. Also, why if Martha was her friend, did she now lock her up without any food? She was decidedly scared by the whole course of events and not at all sure what to do about it.
Sophie looked at her prison. The light switch was outside in the hallway so she’d been forced to sit in near darkness, the only light creeping from outside through the crack between the door and its frame. At first she’d been a little scared in the pitch black. The tiny bathroom which normally seemed such a cosy little room, suddenly became unfriendly and unyielding. Shadows loomed at her and the toilet and sink posed the threat of something coming up out of their pipes to get her. Distant memories of talk about big spiders which crawled up the toilet bowl and bit you, mingled with giant rats coming up out of the sewers. Both stories originated from abroad, but Sophie’s fervent young imagination had mislaid those details and so she’d ended up cowering against the door, straining to see the toilet and sink in case some horrible creature darkened their white porcelain facades. Nothing came, and the house fell quiet. Sophie slowly drifted off to sleep, to dream of babies with faces like Charlie’s crying out to her for help as they were taken away from her sleeping mother.
The next thing to wake her was the sound of the door being opened. The chair which had been propped up against the handle was dragged away and the door swung open allowing the light from the hallway to come crashing into Sophie’s shadowy cell. She awoke startled, momentarily confused as to where she was, blinking in the light and trying to make out the figure which stood before her on the threshold of darkness. Michaela flicked the light on from the hallway switch and then stepped into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her.
‘Martha’s sent me to keep an eye on you,’ she sneered at Sophie.
‘Why has she locked me in here?’ whined her school friend back.
‘Because we can’t trust you. You might ruin everything.’
‘I won’t, I promise, won’t you just let me out?’ Sophie’s spirits had cheered when she’d seen her friend. Michaela was her best buddy, she’d help her out. But what she got instead was a nasty shock.
‘We’re never going to let you go because you’re a snivelling brat,’ spat Michaela lunging towards Sophie. Sophie could just see the flash of metal in her hand, and then as her head was forced back against the wall, she felt its sharp edge on her throat.
‘I’m going to tell you what to do now. I’m in charge. You’re going to do exactly what I want,’ Michaela pressed the knife into the skin of Sophie’s throat, watching it pucker under the force of the blade. She’d seen people in the movies do this and they’d always got their victims to do what they wanted. Sophie was hers now, she’d have to obey her. The time had come when she, Michaela Richardson, would have people fear her instead of being afraid of others and the cruel things they said about her.
‘Michaela, don’t please,’ gasped Sophie suddenly aware of what was going on, ‘I don’t understand, why are you doing this?’
‘I’ve told you. You’re to do as I say now. We’re going to follow our plan to the end and you’re not going to ruin it. You wanted to get rid of the baby, so we’re going to do it. Right?’
Sophie said nothing, little tears of fear pricked her eyes and a thousand questions raced around her head. Why were they doing this, it was only to help her that they’d formulated the plan to get rid of the baby, so why were they so adamant to see it through? But there were no answers, just questions and a glowering Michaela sitting opposite, staring at her as she ran her finger up and down the knife.
‘I wish that damned phone hadn’t broken. I don’t suppose you could swap the downstairs phone for this one could you? See if it will work up here? As Alison spoke, the drug from her tea was beginning to take effect. Martha seemed to frown at her request.
‘I’m afraid that wouldn’t be a good idea,’ Alison’s eyes blinked heavily, ‘you’re looking tired my dear, let me take the little one.’
‘No, no, leave him, he’s…’ Alison’s instincts screamed at her. Feebly she tried to hold on to her son, but Martha whisked him away from her.
‘Martha, what’s …’ was all Alison could manage before she was dragged into another artificial sleep.
Martha had only used a little of the drug this time, enough to give them a couple of hours before she awoke again. It was almost time, she took the baby downstairs and searched in her bag for the ropes to tie Alison to the bed. The adrenaline was pumping around her old body, she hadn’t felt this excited in years.
She returned upstairs, tying Alison tightly, the blood disappearing from her wrists and ankles where the ropes held her. Martha did one last check around the room for any objects which might provide help to Alison, there were none, and she opened the windows to feed the fire with oxygen. She took a parting look at her captive, the ropes she’d chosen were made of silk, even if forensics were called in to investigate the body they wouldn’t find anything suspicious. The fire would destroy the evidence leaving only the ashes of silk, nothing unusual in a bed. Martha smiled to herself, her heart skipping. Her plan was so perfect. Downstairs the sound of Robert West stumbling through the back door alerted her to his return.
She met him in the hall.
‘We’re almost ready, call the others. It’s time to gather.’
38
‘Alison Swift… Alison Swift…’
Alison stirred in a groggy haze, she struggled to wake up, fear arriving with her consciousness. Before she’d even opened her eyes, she felt the ropes around her wrists and ankles. She snapped awake in panic to be met by a heart stopping sight. The room was black except for three candles being held by shadowy black robed figures in the doorway. The foremost of these figures held her son, naked and crying, his tiny helpless little body was being held towards her, teasing her.
‘Satan is claiming your child as his.’
Alison couldn’t take it in, was this real, was this some kind of a sick joke? Was she hallucinating?
‘What are you doing? Untie me. Give me my baby,’ she screeched, the hysteria entering her throat and threatening to choke her in its rush to be released.
‘Your child is to be sacrificed in the name of our Lord Satan,’ Alison suddenly recognised the voice.
‘Martha. Martha is that you? For God’s sake, what are you doing? This isn’t funny.’
‘It is time for the ceremony, our Master calls.’
With that the three figures turned and walked down the hallway leaving her in darkness.
‘Martha, Martha,’ Alison screamed. ‘Help, h
elp me please, somebody help,’ she tugged at the ropes which bound her, ripping into her skin but failing to release them. ‘Sophie, oh God where’s Sophie, what have you done with Sophie?’ She yelled out.
There was no answer. She strained to hear. Nothing, and then from outside her opened window came the sound of chanting, from not just three throats but many. Alison was petrified, but her fear was not for herself, but for her children. She couldn’t help them, and then she heard the cries of her baby as he was taken out into the courtyard.
‘Martha please, stop. I beg you. He’s only a baby,’ she screamed and sobbed.
Then another sound which cut her to the bone, it was Sophie screaming hysterically in terror. Alison could do nothing except tear at the ties which held her and listen to the chanting and the scrunching of their footsteps as they headed towards the forest.
39
Charlie did his old trick of waiting for the traffic to die down before trying to leave London for Dorset. He was so nervous he couldn’t believe it as he drove down the old route he used to take when his life had been so much happier. He’d called up a hotel and booked a room in a place just a few miles from Deepdene. His plan was to check in for the evening and relax, then get up in the morning and go over to see Alison just before lunch. The closer he got though, the more impatient he was to get their first meeting over and done with. He started to entertain the idea of popping in this evening, just to let her know he was in the area and coming tomorrow. Besides the house was really on the way to the hotel, it would be almost rude not to nip in on the way. By the time he’d entered the Dorset county boundaries, he’d persuaded himself it was a good idea. So Charlie pointed his car for Deepdene and drove straight into the middle of the clan.
As Charlie slowly drove down the track to the house, his heart was beating really fast. Would she slam the door in his face? Would she just see him and give him a big hug? Or maybe she’d already had the baby unbeknown to him and she’d answer the door with his son or daughter in her arms.
