by Lynda Stacey
He felt the tension build up inside him, the tightening of his stomach and the acceleration of his heartbeat. He threw the small piece of plastic as hard as he could and screamed as it bounced off the wall and onto the dining table, where it landed, with an unimpressive tap.
He couldn’t find the box and stamped out of the room and down to the kitchen, where he began opening cupboards. They were practically empty, but what remained was untidy and he began moving what was left into the tidy straight lines that he preferred. Everything had been moved, nothing was how it had been and he kicked at a door with a foot, while his arm swept the entire content of the worktop onto the floor. Warm, almost hot water spilled from the kettle and splashed up onto his sock, making him realise that it hadn’t been long since Madeleine had left.
He stared into space. ‘She has to come back. I will make her come back,’ he shouted at the carnage that now littered the floor. He shook his head. ‘But what if she doesn’t? What if you’ve lost her forever?’ He slapped himself on the face. ‘It’s your own fault. You’re a fool, you should have held onto her. You should have made her stay.’
He picked up the phone, dialled Madeleine’s number and waited as the call went to voicemail. ‘You won’t ignore me,’ he shouted as he hit the off button. He stared at the phone, at its dialling options and knew that wherever Madeleine had gone, she’d have used the phone to arrange it. He clicked his way through the redial numbers, looking for any he didn’t recognise and then called them one by one.
‘Good afternoon, Wrea Head Hall, how may I direct your call?’ the receptionist cheerfully asked, but Liam was furious and slammed the phone back into its cradle.
‘We’ve run to Daddy, have we?’ His voice became high-pitched, his mind spun around and he could feel himself getting hotter and hotter. His chest ached and he could feel the palpitations begin, fluttering away like a fast moving engine.
He’d thought he’d taken care of her father the day he’d turned up at Madeleine’s flat. Thought he’d made it clear that Madeleine didn’t want him in her life and afterwards he’d taken steps to make sure her father was out of the picture for good.
He paced up and down the hall, backwards and forwards. He knew he had to think, knew he had to work out what to do, but the more he paced, the angrier he became. He forced himself to stop and tried everything he could to get the thought of Madeleine and her father out of his mind. Besides, he couldn’t think about that now, he had other things to take care of, things that couldn’t wait and his first job was to get the suitcase safely up the stairs before anyone came, empty it of its contents and then and only then would he have time to think about dealing with both Madeleine and her father.
Chapter Nine
‘Damn woman,’ Bandit cursed as he glanced up at the hotel and saw Madeleine watching him from the window. Raising the axe high above his head, he brought it down with a satisfying thud, making the log split in two and fall to the ground. He scooped up the logs that he’d previously cut and threw them into the wheelbarrow that stood by his side. It was still early autumn and without the glow of embers in the open fires, the house could easily turn cool at night. Besides, the reception rooms always looked much nicer with the logs alight, the guests preferred it and it was his job to ensure that there was enough dry wood to keep each of the three fires going right through the winter. But he knew he had to be ahead of his game, this wood would need to be stacked and dried out for at least six months before it would be ready to burn.
He saw the back door open and watched as Morris Pocklington emerged.
‘Look, I’m really sorry about last night. I didn’t know that Madeleine was your daughter,’ Bandit said, pre-empting the conversation that he guessed was about to happen.
‘She’s pretty pissed at you,’ Morris replied with a laugh. ‘I’m not sure I’d want to get on the wrong side of her.’
‘Shouldn’t be going round pretending to be a burglar then, should she?’ Bandit fired back as he picked up another log and brought the axe down to split it. There was no way he could have known who she was. He hadn’t even known that the boss had a daughter, so he couldn’t be blamed for not knowing who she was when he’d seen her creeping around like a hunting tiger, looking for its next meal. But tigress she was not. He’d seen the way she’d looked up at him like a frightened doe in the darkness. Her eyes wide open with fear. She’d appeared vulnerable yet powerful, and timid yet fiery, all at once. She was so similar to the type of women he’d encountered in the marines. Women who could cut you down with words at ten paces, or shoot you from a distance and, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to encounter women like that again. Not after Karen.
‘You don’t like her?’ Morris asked as he stepped up on the log to perch on the fence and pushed his hands deep in his pockets.
Bandit bit his lip. ‘I barely know her.’
He thought of the deep musky perfume that she’d been wearing; its scent had annoyingly stayed with him through the night. She’d had a feisty personality, a spark about her that could have lit a campfire from a distance, yet he couldn’t work out what annoyed him the most; her high spirits, her feisty personality or the vulnerability that shone from within. None of them could possibly be a good thing.
‘Afghanistan, it changed you, Bandit.’
It was true. Afghanistan had changed him. Karen had changed him. ‘I know.’
‘Do you want to talk about it yet?’
‘No, I don’t.’ The words were sharp, harsh and meant to stop the conversation. The very last thing he ever wanted to talk about was Afghanistan. Just the thought made his palms begin to sweat and he rubbed them down his jeans as he felt his whole body begin to tremble. He wanted to close his eyes, but couldn’t. On some nights there was no sleep at all, some nights he’d sleep for an hour or two, but then the nightmares would begin. Every sudden noise reminded him of the explosion, every beach reminded him of the desert and every woman reminded him of Karen. Everything that had happened played on his mind. One minute he’d been part of an elite group, the next he was flying home: inadequate, alone and uncertain of his future.
The only thing that he had ever been certain of in his life had been his father and his home, the gatehouse at Wrea Head Hall. The whole estate had drawn him in, surrounded him with the safety blanket that he liked and needed. He looked up at the hall and the grounds that surrounded it. It was beautiful.
He walked away from where Morris was perched. He walked over to the fence and made his way beyond the stables, sitting down on the grass and out of view. He allowed himself to glance back at the hall again, to the window where Madeleine had been standing, but she was no longer there.
He stared into the distance and took long, deep breaths. It was the only way he could rest, the only way the flashbacks would stay away.
A noise in the grounds attracted his attention and he looked across to see Madeleine as she walked towards the trees. With her was a young girl and a spaniel, who ran back and forth at a hundred miles an hour.
Ignoring them, he looked back at the gatehouse. It was his home, where his father had lived before him. A place so precious to him that he had to keep it at all costs, because one day, when he was well enough, he’d bring his father back here to live.
Bandit thought of how his father’s eyes would light up each time the gatehouse was mentioned and how he could recall the past, the history and the gatehouse’s connection with Wrea Head Hall.
Bandit smiled as he thought of what his father had said during his last visit. ‘I liked the lady. I’d go through the tunnels each Sunday for tea.’
He shook his head. His father certainly had a good imagination, or did he? Could the tunnels that he spoke of really exist? Could he have really gone through them to visit the hall? And if he had, why would he have gone every Sunday for tea? The thought of a secret tunnel had intrigued him for years, but he’d never found any evidence of them existing. It was as though every time the name of the house was mention
ed it sparked a memory, and his father would repeat the same things over and over. The words were always about the gatehouse, about a lady, the tunnels and about the hall. Bandit knew that somewhere deep within his father’s mind were many memories that were locked away and the truth may be lost forever, but the house was still there and so was its history. All he had to do was help his father unlock the memories that were trapped within his mind and hopefully, by doing so, bring his father back to the present.
Chapter Ten
‘Buddy, come back!’ Madeleine shouted for what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon as she ambled her way through the acres of woodland that circled the house. Poppy ran ahead with the over energetic puppy, who continually doubled back to where she stood.
Madeleine stopped for a moment to look up at the beauty of the trees. Sunlight cascaded down between the bare branches like Christmas tree lights, twinkling between its many shades of ochre and gold. Not one tree was the same shade and each one took on its own identity as it blew in the breeze. Each had a life and personality of its own that appeared to be fading with the end of the year. Her hand reached out to touch a tree that stood all alone.
‘Poppy, come look at this tree,’ she shouted as she stroked the old craggy tree that stood in a small clearing of the woods. Its trunk and branches twisted and turned in every direction. Its search for sunlight apparent as it reached high up into the sky. ‘We could bring paper and wax crayons. Do bark rubbings,’ she suggested as Poppy’s eyes opened up like saucers making Madeleine spin around on the spot.
‘Can I help with the bark rubbings?’ Bandit questioned. He was leaning against a tree behind them and she noticed that his eyes seemed to dance with amusement at the knowledge that he’d startled her.
‘Come here, little guy,’ Bandit said as Buddy ran up to him, yapping, barking and wagging his tail. His whole body bent in two as his tail whipped from side to side before he rolled onto his back, waiting to be fussed. Coming down to his level, Bandit knelt on the floor and began rubbing the pup’s belly until his back leg appeared to scratch frantically in mid-air. ‘Aren’t you just beautiful?’
‘Where the hell did you come from?’ Maddie snapped at Bandit as Poppy ran towards her, leaping into her arms.
‘Sorry, I thought you knew that I work here.’
Madeleine shook her head in annoyance. She watched as Buddy lovingly curled up by Bandit’s feet. ‘You, young man, are supposed to be a guard dog. Not a friend to all.’
She didn’t know why she was so aggravated by Bandit’s surprise appearance; she just knew that she was. She began to look him up and down. Her eyes started at his feet and slowly worked their way up to his arms, until she finally stared at his unwashed and unshaven face.
‘Poppy, say hello to Mr Bandit,’ she told the child who was still clinging onto her for life itself, her head buried in the crook of Madeleine’s neck. ‘Hey, don’t be rude. Say hello.’ Eventually, after much prodding, Poppy turned her head and sheepishly stared.
‘Mummy,’ she tentatively whispered and slowly pointed to where Bandit stood. Maddie held her breath in anticipation of what Poppy might say. ‘That man … Mummy … that Mr Bang’it man has a brush, right there, right under his nose.’
Bandit smiled and put Buddy down. ‘I guess I do need a shave,’ he said as he lifted his fingers to his face, rubbing his beard with his hand.
Madeleine was embarrassed and nervously began to laugh. ‘Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry, you never know what they’ll come out with next,’ she tried to apologise, but knew that Poppy was right. He did have a brush under his nose and Madeleine couldn’t help but wonder what a good-looking man he’d be, if he’d only have a shave.
She put Poppy down on the ground and watched as she immediately set off with Buddy running through the trees, showing no embarrassment or interest in the man she’d just insulted. Madeleine watched as Poppy picked up newly fallen autumn leaves that covered the ground and threw them up in the air, while a frantic Buddy jumped up and down trying to catch them in his mouth. A shallow stream came into view and Poppy scampered towards it, mischievously stepping in and out as the water trickled past.
‘Poppy, stay away from the water!’ Madeleine shouted just a little too late as Poppy sat down in the shallow stream. The shock of the cold water made her scream. ‘Poppy, get up. Silly girl, now you’re all wet and it’s cold. Come on, we’d better get you home before the sharks jump out of the water and get you.’
Poppy looked inquisitively back towards the shallow water and then straight at Bandit. ‘What’s a shark, Mr Bang’it man?’
Bandit shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s like a big fish,’ he replied as he picked up a stick and threw it for Buddy to chase.
‘Bandit … is that really your name? I’m sorry, you did tell me your real name last night. Did you say you were called Christopher?’ Madeleine questioned. ‘Which do you prefer, what do I call you?’
‘Bandit’s fine.’ He glanced up to where she now leaned against a tree, a wet Poppy now held tightly in her arms.
‘What sort of a name is that?’ she asked, genuinely curious.
‘I was a marine; it was a nickname.’ He pulled up the arm of his shirt and pointed to a tattoo of a crowned lion clearly imprinted on his right shoulder. ‘My surname’s Lawless, a lawless man is a bandit. Do you get it?’
Madeleine understood. ‘Okay. So, it’s just a play on words, is it, Mr Lawless?’
‘It’s Bandit. The only person still called Mr Lawless is my father.’
She felt awkward and placed Poppy back down on the floor. ‘We’d best get back to the house.’
Bandit looked up at the sky. ‘Must be around four o’clock. Nomsa should have cake and tea ready in the kitchen by now. I’m sure that knowing you’ve arrived she’d have made extra.’ The words were directed at Poppy, whose ears immediately pricked up at the mention of cake.
Poppy smiled. ‘Cake, Mr Bang’it. I like cake,’ she shouted as once again she ran through the trees with Buddy. ‘Come on, Mr Bang’it man. Do you know how to play hide and seek?’
Madeleine watched as Poppy suddenly weaved from side to side and ran back down the path, through the trees and towards the house with Buddy close behind her as she began looking for a suitable hiding place.
Bandit looked at Madeleine for approval and only when she nodded did he begin to look around the trees where Poppy had headed. ‘Is Poppy up this tree?’ he shouted as he looked up the tallest tree. ‘Or maybe, Mummy, maybe Poppy is under this leaf?’ He picked up a small leaf and turned it over to show Madeleine beneath, whilst a hiding Poppy giggled loudly in the distance. ‘Oh, I know,’ he announced. ‘I bet she’s in the greenhouse.’
‘Noooooo, she’s not in there,’ shouted Poppy from where she hid.
‘Oh, okay, she must be under the bridge.’
‘Noooooo, she isn’t under the bridge,’ Poppy’s voice echoed and then a moment’s silence was quickly followed by, ‘Mr Bang’it man. What’s a greenhouse?’
The house came into view, the game of hide and seek quickly forgotten. What was also gone was the frightened child that Poppy had become whenever Liam had been near, the child who’d refused to play games, who’d hidden and stayed quiet, and it occurred to Madeleine just how terrified Poppy really must have been.
‘Look, Poppy, that’s a greenhouse,’ Madeleine pointed to the rickety old building that she’d noticed earlier that day.
‘But it’s not green,’ she shouted, making both Madeleine and Bandit laugh.
‘No, Poppy. The greenhouse isn’t green. It’s a little house where green plants and green bushes go to grow. Do you know the people who lived here long ago were called the Victorians; they used to call it a glasshouse. Kind of makes more sense to me. As you say, it’s not green, is it?’ Bandit tried to explain but gave up as he caught Madeleine’s eye.
‘Look, Mummy, it’s where the plants come to live.’
‘I don’t think many plants have lived th
ere for quite a while,’ Madeleine said as Poppy suddenly rushed in through the door.
‘Nooooo!’ Bandit shouted and, without a thought for himself, ran into the greenhouse behind Poppy. His hand shot out, caught a piece of glass that suddenly fell from the roof and scooped Poppy up by the waist. There was a crash, a bang and a flash of light and for just a moment, he was back in Afghanistan, moving quickly, desperately trying to save lives. Crimson blood immediately covered his hand, but he didn’t care. Poppy was safe.
‘I’ve got you.’ He pulled his shirt over his head and wrapped it around his wounded hand and began to inhale deeply. ‘Oh, Poppy. You should stay where your mummy is sweetheart. The dangers … there are so many dangers.’
His whole body began to shake uncontrollably. Sweat poured from his temple and lights flashed behind his eyes.
‘Here, Poppy, go to your mummy,’ he whispered gently as he tried to push the child away from him and towards Madeleine. But Poppy didn’t want to go.
‘Noooooo, Mummy, I want Mr Bang’it man!’ Poppy screamed as she scrambled back to where Bandit sat, wound her arms tightly around his neck and snuggled her face into his chest.
Bandit looked apologetically at Madeleine. ‘I’m sorry. Is … this … is this okay?’ he mouthed towards Madeleine as he held his hands away from the child until Madeleine nodded.
‘You’re safe now. I won’t ever let the greenhouse hurt you again, I promise. Bandit’s going to get rid of the nasty greenhouse for you,’ he whispered with gentle, comforting words as he rocked and cradled the crying child in his arms. He inched his way to a sitting position on the grass beside where Madeleine had collapsed to the floor and was crying, a shocked and frightened Poppy still wrapped tightly around him.
