Her Dark Retreat: a psychological thriller with a twist you won't see coming

by J. A. Baker

  Audrey shakes her head sadly thinking of that Sheryl woman and what could have happened to her. She hoped Alec would turn out to be a better man than his father but with this piece of awful news it seems like his past has finally caught up with him. The apple rarely falls far from the tree, does it?

  Three men in black wetsuits carrying multi-coloured surfboards stalk past her car and run onto the sand before flinging themselves head first into the frothing waves. Risk takers thinks Audrey. The world is full of them, diving into the freezing sea, jumping off buildings, climbing up mountains without any harnesses or safety equipment. She sometimes wonders what the world is coming to with such behaviours. Or maybe she is too old fashioned. She just doesn’t see the point of it all. Life is hard enough. Why anybody would want to make things even more difficult for themselves is beyond her. They must have easy and unfulfilled lives, these people, if they feel the need to throw themselves into the face of danger just to prove they exist.

  Her gaze follows them as they ride the crest of an inordinately high wave that carries them up in an arc and then down again. The whole spectacle is surreal, the sort of sight you would only expect to see in exotic, far flung places, not here on the north-east coast where the weather is challenging to say the very least. She continues to watch, her eyes flickering along the length of the horizon and over to the foot of the cliffs. That’s when she sees her. Peggy! She is sure of it. Peggy! Her Peggy ... She’s a fair way off but Audrey can tell that it’s definitely her. She would know her own children even if she were blindfolded. Any decent mother would. She feels overwhelmed with affection and wants to laugh out loud. There was no need to creep around the side of the house and plead with the postman to take her letter after all. Peggy was down here all the time. Audrey feels her heart swell as she observes the young woman in the distance, strolling along the beach. Like a character out of a film. She watches for a short while, her eyes misting over with decades of unshed tears, a lump the size of a large rock stuck firmly in her gullet. This is what she has missed out on for so many years. It should be her living up there with Peggy, not him. He might have pulled the wool over everyone else’s eyes but he hasn’t fooled her. She has him all worked out, knows what goes through his head; knows what sort of depraved things make him tick. A flicker in her peripheral vision cuts into her thoughts. The crashing wave that the surfers are so keenly riding rises up, spreading along the entire coastline, gaining in momentum and pushing the sea further and further in at such a rapid pace, that within minutes, the remaining expanse of sand is covered with water. Audrey watches in horror as Peggy is dragged down by a smaller wave and falls to her knees with a crash. She grasps at the door handle, twisting it open, and is up and out of the driver’s seat in a heartbeat, her stomach clenched in dread at what she is witnessing. And then something happens that catches her unawares. She finds herself caught in a trance-like moment as, in the distance, Peggy looks over her way, her face crumpled with fear in an obvious cry for help. Without thinking, Audrey suddenly darts down behind the car door out of view, her heart thrashing around her chest, too scared to do anything, frightened of being caught spying on her own daughter. It’s all over in a matter of seconds, and when she glances up again, Peggy has managed to free herself and is stumbling out of the freezing clutches of the sea, wading out of the water onto the path nearby. Swamped with guilt, Audrey flings herself back into her car, thumps her fists on the steering wheel, leans forward and begins to sob, big fat tears rolling down her face and dripping onto the dashboard leaving a dot to dot of wet splashes. Perhaps Peggy is right and she is a useless mother after all. Toxic. That was the word Peggy spat at her at Peter’s funeral. On the day she lowered her husband’s body into the cold, hard ground, her daughter screamed and hollered at her own mother that she was a toxic waste of space. Audrey sniffs and wipes at her eyes, her jaw lolling as she scrapes around in her handbag for a tissue. Maybe she is right after all. What kind of mother would stand by and watch her daughter almost drown? What sort of mother would hide, knowing her child is in danger? Dear God, is this what she has become? A passive bystander, the sort of person who watches helplessly whilst those around her struggle? She thought she was better than that. She considers herself a good citizen, a decent, thoughtful person. And yet look at what she has just done … With trembling fingers Audrey shoves the key into the ignition and turns it. She needs to get away from here; to give herself time to think, to mull over what has just happened. She isn’t proud of herself over what has just taken place, but then it has been so long since they have spoken, Audrey isn’t even sure what she would say to her own daughter. And how wrong is that? The words should just flow, especially given the length of time they’ve been apart. They have so much catching up to do, so many years’ worth of thoughts to air.

  Audrey pushes her foot down on the pedal and looks in her rear-view mirror. Anyway, the whole thing took her by surprise. And Audrey isn’t a fan of surprises. She likes to plan, have everything done in an orderly fashion. Once she gets home and has a drink, everything will seem a lot better. And by then, Peggy will have seen the note and know what is going on. Surely then, she won’t continue to ignore her own mother? She’ll get in touch, they’ll talk; Audrey will explain everything. And if Peggy doesn’t contact her, then she will return, and when she does, she will make absolutely certain Alec Wilson is made to face up to what he has done. Perhaps then she and her daughter can finally be reunited, picking up with their lives where they left off all those years ago. Audrey wipes at her eyes and pulls on her pale blue leather gloves. Just the thought of it makes her feel better, the very idea that she will finally regain some control, get her life back on track.

  She turns out of the car park with one last fleeting look up at her daughter’s cottage, a solitary, squat building atop the cliffs. Such a stupid place to live. He will have been behind such a move, keeping himself apart from all the normal people, all the decent, law abiding people. But that won’t stop her because she is already planning the next visit in her head. Because there will be one. If Peggy chooses to ignore the letter, then by God she will be back, and when that happens they will all know about it. Next time, there will be no stopping her.

  16

  Alec

  He rips open the envelope and stares at the words on the slip of paper, unable to process what he is seeing. Alec clears his throat and tries again, this time reading each word slowly and carefully, trying to digest the contents of the letter. The words blur on the page, and he is gripped by a bout of dizziness as he quickly looks around and wipes his eyes. No way. No fucking way is this happening!

  A noise behind him causes him to jump. He turns to see Peggy open her laptop and sit down in front of the screen. She catches his eye and smiles. He reciprocates, suddenly overcome with a sensation he can’t quite put his finger on. A renewed sense of love and attraction? Perhaps. He has seen a change in his wife just recently; that much is certain. She’s been in a routine; up and writing by the time he leaves the house every morning, taking care of herself, taking more care of the house. He doesn’t expect her to be a domestic goddess - her writing is a full-time job, but he doesn’t mind admitting it’s been a relief getting in of an evening to a tidy kitchen and hot cooked meal. After the incident with the car last week, he fully expected a lapse in her behaviour but if anything, it seems to have had the opposite effect. He thinks back to the other day - was it the day after it happened? She came down with a really bad cold, shivery and flu-like. She was in bed when he got in from work and his stomach plummeted. Here we go, were his first thoughts. She was turned on her side, her hands clasped tightly around a small object. She obviously hadn’t heard him coming in as she jumped a mile high and quickly shoved whatever it was she was holding into her bedside drawer the minute he opened the bedroom door. The object had already been moved by first light the next morning. His curiosity piqued, Alec had taken it upon himself to have a good rummage while Peggy was downstairs making breakfast bu
t all he came across was a tangle of thick winter tights and a handful of old receipts.

  ‘Everything okay?’ Peggy has turned and is watching him carefully, scrutinising his face.

  Alec screws the letter up and pushes it deep into his breast pocket, ‘Fine. Just a letter from the insurance about the car. All sorted.’ He immediately regrets his words. He has been caught off guard. Such a bad lie. A terrible one.

  ‘I thought you weren’t going to bother? Your mate at the garage said he could knock it back out no problem, didn’t he?’

  ‘What? Yeah, just a note acknowledging we’re not using them now.’ He feels Peggy’s hard stare and knows she can see straight through him. He could just tell her, show her the letter but then she would start asking questions and it will just bring it all crashing back into his mind.

  ‘Can I see it?’ Her words cut through his thoughts; a knife through hot butter.

  ‘See it?’

  ‘Yes, I’d like to have a look at the letter. If that’s okay? I was going to call and see Brenda from the farmhouse and let her know the costs won’t be so high after all. She rang yesterday, flustered to death over it all and deeply apologetic for not getting back to us sooner. She was on nights and her cousin forgot to tell her. Too embarrassed at the fact that he lost her mum I think.’

  Alec feels a flush creep up his throat as he attempts to think up another feeble lie to cover his tracks. Silly really. Why bother? Head tight with anger, he pulls the piece of crumpled paper back out of his pocket and hands it over to Peggy. What is the point of trying to conceal it? Nothing will be gained by creating more secrecy. May as well just hand it over and be done with it. Then once she’s read it he can take it back, tear it into a thousand tiny pieces and throw it into the fire where it belongs.

  She straightens it out and Alec watches as Peggy reads and re-reads it, murmuring the words out loud as she scans each line until she reaches the bottom and looks up at him, her eyes dark with apprehension,

  ‘Oh Alec, I don’t know what to say! What are you going to do?’ She gets up and starts to walk towards him, her arms outstretched. He steps back and shakes his head. No sympathy. No pity. That man took enough from him all those years ago. He won’t allow him to control his life any more.

  ‘What am I going to do? Throw the fucker in the fire, that’s what I’m going to do!’ and he snatches the letter back and begins to tear it into tiny pieces. Peggy watches him, unable to say or do anything.

  ‘How did he find you?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Pegs, in this day and age nobody can hide anywhere. There’s the internet, the electoral roll, the school website. It could have been any number of those things that led him to me.’ Alec stalks over to the fireplace, throws the tiny strips of paper in and watches, mesmerised, as they flutter into the air and land on the small pile of ashes sitting at the bottom of the grate.

  ‘So, what are you going to do then?’

  ‘Do? I’m not going to do anything. As far as I’m concerned, the old bastard can rot in hell,’ Alec shouts, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet as he paces up and down, his heels clicking on the tiled flooring.

  Peggy nods at him. He can see she is wise enough to not to push it any further. She heads back to her computer and begins to type, her fingers softly pressing the keys, her gaze fixed firmly on the screen.

  ‘Did you read the bit about him being off the booze?’ Alec suddenly roars, the pulse in his neck visible beneath his shirt.

  Peggy stops typing and nods, ‘And you believe him?’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me? He will never be off the booze. Drinking to him is like breathing to any normal person. He might have fooled his probation officer and the team of social workers he’s had dangling on a string for the past thirty odd years but he’ll never fool me.’ Alec is breathless with rage. He sits down and wiggles his jaw from side to side.

  ‘Why do you think he wants to see you?’ Peggy grabs a handful of her thick hair and attempts to tie it up out of her face only for it to spring free and fall back down again.

  ‘No idea and I don’t really care. He’s probably short of cash. Well he can piss right off. He’s getting nothing from me. Nothing!’

  Alec drags his hair back and pulls at his collar, a habit he seems to have acquired of late and one he would rather stop. He hates outward displays of weakness and a nervous twitch is definitely a sign that he is struggling to control the mass of dark thoughts roaming loose in his head. That’s the stranglehold his father still has over him. Even after all these years; turning him into a nervous fucking wreck just by writing a letter. There are times when Barry Wilson’s face jumps into his mind unbidden - Alec can be lying in the bath or walking through town or sitting in a meeting or doing any fucking thing at all, any menial task - and he has to quell the urge to punch someone. Doesn’t matter who. Sometimes he just craves the sensation of being able to take all of his frustrations out on somebody else’s face, preferably a person who has waltzed through life with no fucking idea of what an awful struggle his own has been. After being saved from the blows of his father, his childhood was spent being passed from one foster family to another. All were adequate - not loving or nurturing. Not the sort of environment you would want to spend any length of time in. Just tolerable; providing him with a bed to sleep in, clothes to wear and food to eat. It was Mr Biddell, his English teacher and form tutor who saved him, stepping in and inspiring him; showing him how to make something of himself. Mr Biddell taught him how to think and manage his emotions - fed his thirst for knowledge by supplying him with an endless supply of literature - To Kill a Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men, The Great Gatsby. He devoured them all. Without him, Alec could have very possibly taken the same route as his father. Because, on those occasions when Alec has harboured thoughts of smashing somebody’s face in, he has wondered if he has inherited the gene; the Wilson propensity for violence. And the thought of it terrifies him; the idea that he has a rogue gene whistling around his system, driving him on, fuelling his anger, making him do things he really, really doesn’t want to do. But of course, he always manages to drag himself out of it, to talk himself round, to convince himself that he’s quite a good guy after all. He has a decent job, a nice house. Despite everything, he has managed to pull himself up by his bootstraps and make something of his life. There is no way he is about to let his father back into it and watch him ruin everything Alec has worked so bloody hard to achieve. No way will he let Barry Wilson march in and try to take it from him. Not a fucking chance.

  Alec stares down at the paper mingled in with the ashes in the bottom of the unlit fireplace. He will do whatever is required to stop that from happening. Whatever it takes to keep that man out of his life, he will do it.

  17

  Peggy

  Her skin is like ice as he stalks up and down the room, pacing like a Gestapo officer, head dipped, arms clasped behind his back. She hates it when he gets like this; full of pent up anger, a bubbling volcano, eruption imminent. It makes her edgy, perhaps even a little scared. Bloody Barry Wilson. What the hell does he want anyway? To put right his many wrongs? As if he could ever do that. Alec would have to be reborn and live the first twelve years of his life all over again for that to happen. Peggy chews at the insides of her mouth until she feels a sharp pain and tastes the metallic flow of blood as it oozes through her mouth like warm oil. First her mother with her leaflets and posters and empty accusations and now this. Why is there always something? Every time things get back on an even keel, their world tilts precariously on its axis, knocking them off balance and there is yet another situation for them to deal with. Why can’t life just leave them both be? Let them get on in their own unobtrusive, little way?

  Leaning back in her chair, Peggy inhales and then stops quickly. That dreadful smell again. Such an awful stench. A horrible, creeping sensation twists round in her belly. Alec hasn’t noticed it but then her sense of smell is so much keener than his. It started a while back and has grow
n stronger by the day. Bloody Chamber Cottage and its multitude of problems. At least the stain has stayed away. Thank heavens for small mercies. Sometimes she feels as if she is actually losing her mind, as if this cottage, this place she calls home, is trying to drive her insane.