by Graham West
Jenny hadn’t been in the mood. Not at seven. Don’t you think you’ve done enough? Stay away from him! I’m warning you!
She burst into tears, running into the bathroom in case Isaac woke to find his mummy sobbing, then took a shower and put on some make-up. There was a fancy café just ten minutes away; they’d get some breakfast there. Isaac could have a chocolate milkshake and she’d have a coffee and poached eggs on toast. Maybe they’d come back and spend some time in the pool. Time that would pass slowly.
Jake was working, it wouldn’t be worth checking her phone again until the evening. That’s when he’d have time to reflect and come to his senses. They had vowed to grow old together, but now those vows seemed empty and meaningless.
Jenny slipped a coat on Isaac. She had to sound cheery, as if this was going to be the best holiday ever. Sometimes she wondered if the best actors were the mums and dads who had to put on a show for their kids every single day of the week.
***
The Garret family stepped forward, one by one, throwing a fistful of earth onto the coffin. Thud, thud, thud. It was a tradition Blakely had never really understood. Throwing soil over your loved one’s casket seemed rather crass, almost as if you couldn’t wait to see them six feet under. He hung back with three of the staff. Alex was present in person but looked as if his head were a million miles away—probably something to do with the girl Blakely had seen him with.
The mourners filed away, all heading for the local pub where the family had put on a buffet. Mrs. Garret stood alone by her son’s grave and swung around, sensing Blakely’s presence. “Thank you for coming. You’re welcome to come back for a drink and some food.”
Blakely smiled politely. “That’s very kind but I think I’d better get back.”
“Sure. I know you must be busy.”
“If there is anything I can do…”
Mrs. Garret shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just glad it’s all over.”
Blakely placed a reassuring hand on her arm. “You’ve been brilliant. You all have.”
Mrs. Garret looked over at the grave, a gaping hole in the earth. “I suppose you’re wondering why I didn’t cry. None of us did. Especially Emma.”
“Is that Liam’s sister?”
Mrs. Garret nodded, so much pain in her eyes. “She blames me, Mr. Blakely, and I can understand why. I protected Liam. I should have reported him, but I didn’t. I couldn’t hand over my own son.”
“Why, what did he do?”
“He killed someone.” Mrs. Garret stared blankly at the grave. “One of the tutors at Emma’s ballet class. Liam thought he was pestering his sister and—”
A chill descended over Blakely. “He killed him for pestering?”
“He got it into his head that the bloke was a paedophile who liked hanging around kids in tutus. He followed him home late one night and took the poor man out with a single punch. A punch that ended his life.”
“And the police never caught him?”
“No, because I gave my son an alibi, Mr. Blakely. I lied to protect him, and that poor man’s family never got their justice. I watched them suffer and did nothing about it. Emma never forgave her brother, and she couldn’t face ballet class. No one could blame her—the guy was innocent. Emma had a massive crush on him, and she wrote things in her diary—you know what teenagers are like. Liam found the diary and thought the tutor was encouraging her, but he’d never laid a hand on any of the kids. She shut herself away and within twelve months lost all her friends.
“My husband—Liam’s dad—sent him packing. That’s why he joined the army. But we should have reported him. We were horrified when we found out he was working at Mosswood. He shouldn’t be around youngsters, not with a temper like that.” Mrs. Garret smiled ruefully. “Liam’s gone. Some might say it’s karma, but my family is broken, Mr. Blakely. Emma will move out as soon as she is old enough, and I don’t think she’ll ever come back. Jim and I have each other, but the guilt is driving us apart. I didn’t just fail Emma, I failed Liam, too.”
“Time heals,” Blakely said, unable to think of anything better to say. “Emma will understand as she gets older. She’ll understand how hard it would have been for you.”
Mrs. Garret shook her head and, for the first time that day, began to cry.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Darren was on his fifth can of beer when his mobile rang. He hoped it was Danni. Maybe she’d changed her mind and decided against an early night. But it was a number he didn’t recognise. The voice was female with a foreign accent. “Hello? Is that Darren Pascoe?”
“Who’s calling, please?”
“My name’s Velma. You were on Kevin’s friend list. You’re the only one who had a mobile phone number—so this is why I ring you. Sorry.” Apart from saying ring instead of rang, the girl spoke good English.
Darren paused for a moment. Taylor’s name, his face, the memory of that afternoon all weighed heavily.
“I’m not his friend,” he corrected. “I don’t want anything to do with him, so please don’t call me again. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know!” He should’ve ended the call, but he didn’t. He stayed on the line, listening to the silence at the other end until eventually Velma spoke again.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice broke “Kevin’s dead. We found him in his bed this morning.”
Darren felt like he’d been punched him in the gut. “Dead? When? How?”
“I don’t know. The boys found him.”
An overdose? Drunk coma? Was Velma Taylor’s girlfriend? She sounded upset, so maybe it would be better not to probe further.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “There was no love lost between us, but, well…thanks for letting me know.”
He could hear Velma trying to catch her breath, a girl on the edge of breaking down.
“You’re welcome,” she whispered and ended the call.
Darren dropped the phone on the table beside him and grabbed the TV remote, turning up the volume. There was nothing worth watching, but he needed to block out his thoughts, even if it was with some boring documentary about binge drinking. Perhaps he should give that a try—a couple more cans followed by a shot or two of whisky. Anything to help him sleep tonight.
He shouldn’t have cared. He’d always imagined himself dancing on the grave of his nemesis, but he was sad, and bewildered. Yes, Taylor had died, and something within him had died too.
***
Jenny flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes, completely drained. Isaac had fallen asleep soon after lunch, but the moment he’d realised his father wasn’t coming, he’d turned into the child from hell. Jenny had been overcome by a feeling of pure desperation and left a message begging Jake to change his mind. No reply to that, she followed it up with:
Jake—sorry about the earlier message. Isaac was playing up big time and it was doing my head in. We’re OK now. Kids are resilient and I’m sure he’ll get used to you not being around. x
Jake would see through the veiled threat. He loved his son, and if anything was going to save their marriage, it would be their mutual love of Isaac, who was still the cutest kid on the planet, even if he did turn into the spawn of Satan some days.
Jenny felt herself drifting with the sound of the TV in the background. The day had left her feeling vulnerable—a single mother with a disgruntled child. Was this her future?
She sensed she was beginning to dream. The room was bathed in a hazy blue, surreal light, and Jake was standing at the bottom of her bed. Kayla stood by his side and smiled as she looked up. They were naked. Jake bore the scar from Reece’s bullet on his shoulder, and the cigarette burns on Kayla’s body were clearly visible.
“What are you two doing here?” she gasped.
Kayla’s smile faded. “You must choose between us,” she retorted angrily. “You must decide who you want under your bed sheets.”
“But I want Jake! I’ve told you!”
“But you desire me. You lust afte
r me.”
Suddenly, Jake faded, calling out, “Please, don’t do this, babe. Don’t break us up—please!”
“I’m not,” Jenny screamed. “It’s you. You’re leaving me. You’re disappearing.”
Jake, now barely visible, reached out to her. “Don’t you understand? I’m still here, I’m only fading in your eyes because you want her!”
Jenny watched in horror. “What do I do? How can I get you back? Just tell me! I’ll do anything—”
He was gone.
A wicked grin formed on Kayla’s face. “You have made your choice,” she whispered, slipping beneath the duvet. “This is what you want. Deep down, this is exactly what you want.”
Jenny felt the warmth of Kayla’s body next to hers.
“No! We can’t do this!” But she was powerless. It was as if every ounce of strength had been sucked from her body as Kayla’s hand moved slowly down between her thighs.
“No!” she screamed again. “No! I want Jake! I love Jake!”
Sebastian’s face swam into her mind. Resolve. Resolve. She repeated over and over, and her strength returned. She pushed Kayla away, swinging her legs out of the bed and running towards the window.
Kayla followed her. “You can’t fight this forever. You will have to give in, sooner or later.”
Jenny swung around. “Leave me alone!” she hissed. “Leave me alone or I swear…” she reached behind her. On the table was the knife she had used to cut Isaac’s pizza a couple of hours ago.
Kayla was closing in. “You’re mine. All mine!”
Jenny took the knife in her hand, raising her arm.
Kayla laughed. “You wouldn’t dare—”
The next few seconds were nothing but a blur. Kayla staggered backwards, the knife buried deep in her chest. She cried out, choking and coughing blood as her death rattle echoed through the room. Jenny woke with a shriek, her body soaked in perspiration. She had dealt with Kayla just as Amelia had dealt with Allington. The revenge was swift: the reverend had taken Amelia’s child; Kayla had taken Jenny’s life. She had lost Jake, her family, and, if the family courts got involved, she would be sharing her little boy too.
Jenny showered quickly, wrapped a robe around her body and lay back on the bed. It had only been a dream, yet Kayla had felt so real, and it was Jake she had reached for as he faded in front of her eyes. If only he knew; if only she could find a way to explain. People used a variety of words and phrases in an effort to categorise human emotion. Romantic love, lust, familial love, the love between parent and child, brothers or sisters… Sometimes the waters became clouded, and boundaries were crossed. It was how families were torn apart and lives destroyed. But Jenny was a fighter. She wasn’t giving up.
Chapter Fifty
It took four hours to excavate the remains of the man they believed to be Jacob Root. Blakely had spent the morning watching over the uniformed figures standing around the shallow grave. He had passed them a photocopy of Sarah Bell’s letter, explaining how Amelia’s governess had briefly mentioned Jacob, and how he had gone into the forest looking for his daughter, never to return.
“This doesn’t really prove it was him,” the senior officer said. “But forensics will at least give us some idea of how long the body has been down there—”
“I’m confident it’s him,” Blakely interrupted.
“Yes, sir, but we have a great number of open missing person reports, and we can eliminate most simply by height, but for the sake of the families they left, we need to investigate.”
Blakely nodded. They weren’t telling him anything he didn’t know.
The officer smiled. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Blakely. And thank you for bringing us in. I’m guessing with the fire and all, well, this isn’t a good time.”
Blakely walked back towards the house, deep in thought. He had turned the place into a hotel, but it was easy to imagine the lady of the house hurrying across the grounds to meet with her lover on the edge of the forest. In a moment of passion, Amelia had been conceived, and now Jenny Adams, her great-great-great-granddaughter, was staying there. He hoped she’d stop long enough to see Jacob buried alongside his daughter.
***
Darren felt the tension in the air. Josie and Rob were dancing around each other like prize fighters, and it was getting on his nerves.
“What’s up with you two? I’ve just told you Kevin Taylor is dead, and all you can do is shrug your shoulders!”
Rob turned, and his eyes flashed. “What do you want us to do? Break down in tears? Crack open a bottle of champagne?”
“No. But I expected some kind of reaction.”
“And you got one,” Rob countered. “I shrugged my shoulders because I couldn’t give a shit about that scrawny little bastard. He’s dead. So what?”
Darren dropped back into the chair. “It was a shock. I don’t know why, but it kind of…affected me.”
Josie managed a sympathetic smile. “Look, I know you two had a history, even if it was a bad one. But you can understand why Rob isn’t exactly grieving. I mean, apart from everything else, he left you in that forest to die.”
Darren shook his head. “He said things, almost as if he wished he’d been brought up in a decent family with parents who cared. I think he hated the way he turned out but felt he couldn’t change.”
“We can all change,” Rob retorted, “so don’t you go feeling sorry for him.”
Darren recalled how his father used to stop by his bedside and ask how his day had gone; how he’d taken time off work to watch him run the relay race on school sports days. Then there were the bedtime stories his mother wrote during the day in which Darren was always the central character, always the hero.
“I changed, but I had a good family. I knew right from wrong. Kevin was brought up without any boundaries.”
“But he had time to reflect,” Josie said. “He spent two years in the youth offenders’ place, away from his parents and that estate.”
“Maybe it was too late,” Darren mused.
Josie sighed. “Well, at least you’ve got yourself back on track, and we’re both proud of you.”
Rob grunted in agreement, but there was something else on his mind. “You know Jenny has taken Isaac to Mosswood for a few weeks?”
Darren guessed there was something going on with those two. “Without Jake?”
Rob nodded. “I’m sure it will be okay. They’re just going through a bad patch at the moment.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
Rob and Josie looked sideways at each other. It must have been something bad.
“Tell me, please? I’m not a kid.”
Jo sighed. “It sounds worse than it is—”
“That’s for me to decide,” Darren interrupted. “Is Jake playing around or something?”
Rob rolled his eyes. “Do you see him splattered all over the carpet?”
“No, but did anyone splatter you all over the carpet after Melissa?”
“He’s got you there,” Josie said.
Rob ignored the comment. “No, he hasn’t been playing around…”
Darren froze. “It’s not Jenny, surely?”
Josie paused long enough for the penny to drop.
“It is, isn’t it? Jenny’s met someone. She’s cheating on Jake!”
“Not exactly,” Rob said. “But you might want to stay seated for this one. It’s complicated.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Tears stung Alex’s eyes. Young people took their own lives every day, but Bailey Rosales was just a kid. She was obviously a teenager with issues. She’d allegedly pulled the little boy off the ladder in the play centre and then sent a pushchair skidding across the café. But to step off a platform, under the wheels of a train? It had gotten to him, and he’d messaged Maddy with the news, then realised that maybe hadn’t been such a good idea. It was too early in their relationship to be offloading, and he’d followed up with an apology, but Maddy hadn’t replied.
The tension, the anxiety—it was all too familiar. Maddy had asked him so many questions about Liam.
“If you actually saw someone thrown across a room by an invisible force, how can you still claim you don’t believe in ghosts and spirits?”
“I don’t know what happened. I just find it hard to accept that it was something to do with demons and stuff like that.” It seemed rather arrogant to tell her he just didn’t want to believe.
“But you said Liam saw something that terrified him, and you were too scared to go back and rescue him.”
“I panicked. I guess I wasn’t thinking logically.”
Maddy shook her head. “Alex, you know there’s something in that forest. What do you think it is?” Her frustration was obvious. “Or maybe that’s the problem. You just don’t want to think at all!”
Alex laughed.
Maddy was no fool, and she read him well. Maybe it was time to drop the subject. Their evening had ended well enough, but now…
Was she having second thoughts?
Experience told him to wait. Maybe she was busy. She’d be…actually, he had no idea what she would be doing and was suddenly aware of how little he knew about the girl. Did she have a job? Was she studying? They’d spent most of the time talking about music, movies and food. Maddy liked festivals, he knew that much. But where, for instance, she got the money to buy tickets, he hadn’t a clue.
***
Sebastian Tint pored over another of Amelia Root’s diaries. The skies had clouded over so his daily walk had been postponed. Maybe later. Besides, Ricky might have grown into a healthy, bear-like German Shepherd, but he didn’t like rain. It amused the old man he’d managed to adopt a dog with water issues. Throw a stick into a lake and Ricky would lose interest and go looking for something else to retrieve.
He was four pages in, wondering if the random approach had been such a good idea. He was usually so methodical and should have started from the girl’s first entry through to her final day, the way one would tackle a series of novels. But today, he’d struck lucky, if it really was luck. He re-read the passage several times.
