by Lynda Stacey
‘Where are you going?’ he queried ignoring her question and without moving anything except for his fingers that he began drumming heavily on the dashboard in an irritating manner as his foot tapped the accelerator. It made the engine roar and Madeleine wondered what he would do next.
‘Please, Liam. I appreciate what you did, but I have to go. Could you get out of the car now?’
‘I asked where you were going. It’s only polite that you tell me, Maddie. Especially after I’ve just repaired your car.’
‘A little too easily, I think,’ the words left her mouth before she realised what she’d said and she immediately saw annoyance cross his face. She felt vulnerable. She was all alone, on a lane hidden by trees, in a car with a man who’d acted strangely ever since she’d left him and she didn’t like it. ‘Liam, please.’
‘Ah, please, now you say please. Wasn’t that what you said to gorilla boy the other night?’ He smirked, nodded and then sat back in his seat as though settling in for the night. ‘You see, I heard you, Maddie, darlin’. You were begging another man to hold you. It was quite pathetic, even by your standards.’
‘It was just a hug and I did not beg,’ she snarled as she reached for the door handle. His hand grabbed her other wrist making her scream as she struggled to release herself. ‘Let me go,’ she shouted using her other hand to try and release his hold, but his grip tightened.
‘I’ll never let you go, Maddie. Do you hear that?’ His words were venomous, spat out through gritted teeth, showering her face with his saliva. His hand tightened again, making his nails sink into her wrist, deeper and deeper.
Madeleine screamed. ‘Liam, get off. You’re hurting me. Stop, stop now.’ Fear took over. She stared into Liam’s eyes, which now bore no emotion.
Even though he was now shouting at her, his facial expression didn’t change making her realise that never before had she seen him so angry or determined. ‘I won’t let you go, Maddie. Not now, not ever!’
Madeleine began to shake with fear. The words ‘not ever’ terrified her and she suddenly realised that his words were of obsession and not of love. She had shooting pains in her wrist that were travelling up her arm. She had to think. She had to get away from him and she had to do it fast. Her eyes shot around the car.
‘Arrgh, Liam a spider, there’s a massive spider. Right above your head,’ she screamed as loud as she could and kept her eyes fixed on an area of the Mazda’s roof above where he sat. She knew he was terrified of spiders, knew he’d panic, knew he’d let go of her and watched as his arms splayed above his head in a frantic attempt to stop the imaginary creature from landing upon him.
She took her cue, jumped out of the car and quickly looked between the hall and the gatehouse. The gatehouse was closer and she headed straight for it. It was still raining heavily and within seconds of jumping out of the car, her hair was soaked, along with her jeans, which were much too long and were dragging in the puddles as she ran. Looking over her shoulder, she could see the car. It was still parked, still pointing towards the gates. The headlights were on full, making it impossible for her to see what Liam was doing, but the engine revved over and over and it crossed her mind that if he wanted to, he could aim the car right at her and end it all quickly. Her heartbeat pounded through her entire body, her head spun and her legs turned to jelly as she just managed to propel herself over the fence, launching herself into a full blown assault upon Bandit’s door.
‘Bandit, please. Please help me.’ She ran around the house, banging on windows and doors as she went. ‘Bandit. Are you in? Come on, come on, answer the door.’ She pounded as hard as she could. Even if in a deep sleep, he’d have woken and it suddenly occurred to her that even though a lamp was on in the lounge, he might not be there at all.
Had he said that he’d be going away? Was he up at the hall? She knew it was his day off, but hadn’t thought to ask what he’d normally do in his free time. Why would she? She wasn’t his keeper.
‘BAAANNNNDITTTTTT…!’ she yelled in the hope that he’d be in earshot.
It was dark and Madeleine was terrified. It was more than obvious that Bandit was not there and she had no idea when he’d be coming home. She began to shake. She’d never seen Liam so angry before, never seen his eyes so wide, never heard that much anger in his voice and never wanted to hear it again. She thought back to things that had happened, the broken locket, the teddy bear, the electrics at the house, her car breaking down and, dare she think it, Jess’s flat being broken into. There had been too many things happening, too many things going wrong and, right now, she was sure that Liam was at the centre of them all.
She heard the sound of the car revving again, making her look around, wondering what she should do. Was it better to run or hide? The moon was covered by the dark clouds, making the night seem blacker than normal. It was raining and she still hadn’t had time to explore the woods which stretched out as far as she could see. Even though the trees were bare, she didn’t fancy trying to navigate her way through them – especially with Liam on her trail, but did she have a choice? She was sure he’d gone mad and hadn’t liked the way he’d looked, the way he’d gripped her wrist or the way his words had spat out from his mouth in a definite threat. He’d meant to scare her, meant to hurt her and he’d succeeded. She had no idea what he was capable of next.
Looking behind the gatehouse and into the gardens beyond she saw a rickety old shed, which probably let more water in than it kept out, a low wooden frame, which may or may not have been a compost heap, and a whole group of bushes that looked thick enough to hide in. She ran down the path, trying to be careful with her step. To each side of the path were muddy patches of ground that looked like areas where vegetables could be grown in the spring.
Then she slipped. Tumbling to the ground, putting her hand out to save herself, she landed heavily on a patch of gravel. Gritting her teeth, she tried not to yell, but dared not to look at what damage she’d caused as she heard the noise of the car get closer. Pulling herself quickly to her knees, she crawled and used her hands to feel her way through the darkness towards where the old shed stood. It had a small brick base and she found herself cowering down between the shed and a bush, lying flat on her belly in the wet, sharp gravel as she hoped and prayed that the darkness would hide her.
The car had parked and stopped. She heard footsteps as he got out. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her breathing echoed in her ears and her whole body shook uncontrollably with fear. Her fingers were numb with the cold and the wetness of the mud soaked through her jeans and into her skin.
‘You can’t hide, Maddie.’ Liam’s voice reverberated through the rain that still poured down with a vengeance. ‘I’ll find you and when I do, you will come back to me, I can promise you that.’ His voice paused and Madeleine could hear him walking around the gatehouse, every step bringing him closer and closer to where she hid. Every second felt like a minute. His boots stamped so heavily, she could almost feel the ground shake in mini earthquake tremors.
Peering above the wall, she could just about make out his silhouette looking through the windows of Bandit’s empty gatehouse. He tried the windows and the doors, making Maddie wonder if he’d actually go in if one were open.
Oh, Bandit. Why, oh why couldn’t you have been home? she thought to herself as she once again spread herself as close to the ground as she could.
‘I know where you are, you bitch. You may as well just come out and we can sort this, once and for all.’ Again, his voice grated in her mind and even though she’d never been religious in her life, she began to pray that he’d go away. ‘Your boyfriend isn’t home, Maddie. He left, right after he saw us cuddling up at breakfast. He knew we’d get back together, knew that I was the better man. Me, Maddie. That’s right. Me, I’m the better man. I always have been. I’m the only man you’ll ever have; why can’t you understand that? As for your boyfriend, why do you think he isn’t here now? He’s left, Maddie. He isn’t coming back.’
> Madeleine pressed herself even closer to the ground. The gravel was uncomfortable, it pressed into her skin, but she dare not move, barely dared to breath and wished she’d worn clothing more suitable for rambling. But then she’d thought she was going to help Jess, thought she’d be in the car. Her heart was now pounding in her head, booming like a bass drum, first steady and rhythmic, then it sped up, going faster and faster making Madeleine grab each side of her head in the hope that it would stop.
Had Bandit really seen them together that morning? She’d been in the dining room talking to Liam. He’d held her hand under the table, restricting her, ensuring she couldn’t move while they spoke. Bandit must have seen and thought they were being intimate; thought they were getting back together just like Liam had said. She felt nauseous as the ground began to move.
Had Bandit really believed she’d gone back to Liam, especially after all she’d told him and after the evening they’d spent together?
Suddenly, she heard Liam’s footsteps stamp away. The car engine continued to run but still Madeleine dared not move. A distant noise came from inside the car. ‘Paperback Writer’, the ringtone on her phone. She listened as it rang and rang, stopped and then rang again. It was probably Jess, checking on her whereabouts, wondering where she was. Each time it rang, she mentally sang the song and wondered how many times Jess would try before realising that something was terribly wrong.
Closing her eyes, she thought of how Jess would be coping. She’d be waiting for the police, hopefully she’d gone to the café, but if not she’d be looking after Poppy and Buddy and doing her best to keep both away from the glass that she’d said was all over the floor. But Madeleine knew that Poppy would be safe. She knew, without doubt, that Jess would protect them and would ensure that no harm came to either Poppy or Buddy.
Madeleine wanted to move. Her whole body was shaking. She was afraid, cold and wet. Every instinct she had made her want to run to the car, go and protect Poppy, she had to get to her at all costs, but she couldn’t be sure where Liam had gone and knew that he could be waiting in the car. With no other choice, she made slow determined moves and managed to crawl towards the edge of the woods, where she began making her way inch by inch on her belly through the trees and back to Wrea Head.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Liam ran as fast as he could back up the lane to where his own car stood. He knew that Madeleine was hiding somewhere around that cottage and no matter how clever she thought she was right now, he was determined to find her.
He looked in the back seat, grabbed a rucksack and opened the zip. He studied its contents and pulled a knife out of the depths of the bag. He nodded at his choice, zipped the bag back up, started the car and with no headlights he drove slowly back down the lane, all the while scanning the fields which contained horses, sheep and pigs. A movement caught his eye and he stopped the car, climbed out and leaned against the fence while his eyes became accustomed to the dark.
He slowly looked towards the cottage, to where he’d left her, where he knew she’d been hiding, cowering in the dirt. He laughed at the thought, after all it was her fault. She’d started all this when she’d first moved in. He’d loved her for so long but he’d wanted her, alone. Not the mother to a whining child. She’d cared about the brat too much, hadn’t put him first and had spoken out of turn, challenging him, which had disappointed him. She’d not done as she was told. She’d refused to put all her money into a joint account, didn’t understand that she was not to touch his things, nor should she have allowed Poppy to play with his childhood toys. He’d done everything for her, shared his house, played the game fair, but she hadn’t. He shook his head as he reached the cottage and, as quietly as he could, walked around its edge with his eyes wide open, looking for Madeleine.
He walked up the path to the shed. She had to still be there, he thought as once again the rain began pouring in torrents. He looked up at the sky, wondering if she were stupid enough to move, stupid enough to leave her hiding place and head into the woods, where untold dangers would be. He looked over to the trees and shook his head. No, not Maddie. She wouldn’t go there; she’d be too scared.
He held the knife up in the rain and watched as trickles of water ran down its blade. But then he stopped in his tracks and threw the blade at the shed. ‘Stupid, stupid, stupid. You didn’t wear the gloves.’ He then fell to his hands and knees and crawled along the path, searching for the blade that had landed in the long grass that surrounded the edge of the shed. ‘You’re getting too confident, you’re making mistakes, you’re a stupid, stupid boy.’ He slapped himself across the face, a form of punishment he’d learnt to give himself over the years. ‘You’re so stupid,’ he screamed.
He stopped in his tracks. Wasn’t that what his mother would say, hadn’t she called him stupid each and every time he’d done something wrong, every time he’d left his toys out all over the floor? Wasn’t it always his fault, always him that was stupid and always him that got into trouble, even if it was Freya that had stood on or fell over things?
He found the blade and grabbed at it, stood up and looked down at his mud stained clothes.
‘Oh, no. Not good. Not good.’ He thought of how he looked, of how he hated being dirty and of how Madeleine had brought him to this.
‘You shouldn’t have lied, should you? You should have been out that day.’ He thought of how all his clothes had tumbled down the stairs, of how he’d had to launder them all and iron them again before he could place them back in the wardrobe, where they belonged. ‘You did that, Maddie. You did that to me and now, now you have to pay.’ He looked down at the knife, knowing that it couldn’t be used. ‘You’re normally better than this,’ he berated himself as he bounded round the corner of the shed and searched behind. He usually planned meticulously, thought things through from every conceivable angle but tonight Madeleine had made him shake with anger, made him lose the control that he normally kept on a very tight leash.
He stopped, listening to the dark night and finally realised that Maddie was not there. Somehow she had escaped him again. Tonight would not be the night that she paid. That night would come. It would come soon and when it did, he’d get his revenge.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dusk was falling as Bandit ran along the side of the River Ouse. Mud squelched underfoot and once or twice he felt his foot slide beneath him. He’d been running for miles. It had been the only way to burn off his energy. The only way he would sleep that night. He had to find a way to stop himself from thinking of Madeleine. But he’d run further than he’d thought and only now did he begin to recognise the area. He passed the Lombardy trees which lined the path on which he ran and could now see both the York Minster and the National Railway Museum in the distance. A women’s quad scull crew sailed past him at speed and he knew that he’d soon be approaching Clifton, where he’d left his truck. An intended visit to The Elder Lodge Nursing Home had turned into what must have been a twenty mile run. He just hoped that his father hadn’t noticed the truck, watched him run off or waited for the past four hours for him to walk through the door.
Bandit slowed down, caught his breath and walked the final mile. Visiting his father took energy and he needed to ensure that by the time he got there, his mind and body would be rejuvenated. He reached Water Lane and the path ended. Here he stopped for a moment, pulled his soaked T-shirt over his head and dried his body with it. Opening the truck, he reached for a can of deodorant, grabbed a clean jumper and pulled it over his head. He then reached for the box of fudge that he’d brought for his father to eat and ventured inside to the sitting room where he knew his father would be.
‘Now then, Dad. How are you doing? You okay?’
His words were lost. His father’s eyes were closed. Deep in sleep, his hands were clutching a teddy bear to his chest, while his legs were curled beneath him. He resembled a small child in a chair that looked far too big for his needs. His chair stood in its normal spot by the bay window; a
table stood by its side littered with magazines, picture books and chocolate. An elderly woman, much older than his father, sat close by. Bandit had noticed her many times before. She was often sitting beside his father and her chair almost always touched his. Once or twice he’d noticed her tenderly holding his father’s hand. But each time Bandit entered the room she’d tenderly pat his father on the arm and then stand up to leave. She took hold of the Zimmer frame that stood by her side and slowly disappeared out of sight and into another room.
Bandit smiled at the peaceful sight. It was good that his father had a friend, someone to talk to during the long repetitive days. He moved closer and then wrinkled up his nose at the smell of disinfectant, bleach and plug in air fresheners that was overpowering his senses.
Taking a seat beside his father, Bandit sat quietly and closed his eyes, contemplating his father’s life. He’d been in the home for years. He went out occasionally, but most days he was too tired and ill to move, yet too well to die and Bandit wondered if it would have been kinder all those years before to have let him go. He had his own world in which he lived, it was primitive, but it was his own. He didn’t have a care in the world and Bandit sat for over an hour wondering whether he or his father actually had the better life.
Was it better not to know what was happening in the world around you? To be oblivious of it all and not to know the worry, or be affected by the stress and the heartache that surrounded life. Or was it actually better being capable and independent? Both had an argument in their favour and this had been his overwhelming thought when he’d set off for his run. He’d only stopped running once he’d come to the conclusion that he needed both the happiness and the heartache, whatever that might mean. It was both the happiness and the heartache that made his heart beat as though it would burst out of his chest, that made him feel alive and without the occasional heartache, you didn’t get the happiness.
