Dark Corners

by Darren O’Sullivan

  I’ve seen him again; he was near the hut. He looked right at me.

  Chapter 32

  30th November 2019

  Evening

  With the car dropped off, and my tattered nerves back in check, I climbed into the back of a cab and began the journey home, where I would wait for the agreed time of seven to meet in the pub. I got out of the taxi and stepped inside, to see Dad still in front of the TV watching an old episode of Top Gear. I expected him to be asleep, but as the door closed, he called out.

  ‘That you, Neve?’

  ‘Yeah, Dad, it’s me.’ I walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. ‘You all right?’

  ‘Oh, I’m fine. Just fine,’ he said, not taking his eyes from the TV, and my heart sank a little. I was expecting that answer, of course; I silently hoped that, with the warmth we had shared, he would be honest and say things weren’t fine. ‘Someone knocked for you earlier.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘A man, he knocked on the door, and asked if he could talk to you.’

  ‘A man? What man?’

  ‘I don’t know – I didn’t ask – just a man.’

  ‘Did he say he was a reporter?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’

  That was strange, didn’t the media have to announce who they were?

  ‘What did he look like?’

  ‘Old.’

  ‘Can you describe anything else, what was he wearing?’

  ‘I don’t know, I didn’t pay attention.’

  ‘Was he wearing a long, dark coat?’ I asked, my hands beginning to sweat.

  ‘Yes, maybe,’ he said, uninterested.

  ‘Did he say what he wanted?’

  ‘No, just that he would get you later.’

  ‘Get me? He said those exact words?’

  ‘Get you. Find you. I can’t remember.’

  I looked out of the window, wondering if he was out there, watching, waiting for me to come back. The wind blew through the trees outside, throwing their branches in the path of the streetlamps, making it look like the shadows were crawling towards me. I couldn’t see anyone. After locking the doors, I tried to pretend to Dad everything was OK – and walking into the kitchen to check the back, I had to close the fridge door that was wide open.

  I messaged the others, my hands shaking as I did, telling them about the man coming to my dad’s door. Michael said he didn’t want anyone walking alone, especially me, so suggested he picked us all up for our very public meet-up at seven. True to his word, at three minutes to, he knocked on my father’s door, but despite knowing it was him, I still felt my nerves twitch. He smiled awkwardly and we walked to his car to drive to Holly’s house. By the time we got to hers, I felt better for Michael being close, and said I would get her. She answered the door looking noticeably drained.

  ‘Holly?’

  ‘It’s weird not having the kids here. I didn’t sleep well without them.’

  I hadn’t considered how hard it must be for her to have to ask her mum to look after the kids for a few days. Holly was worried, and rightly so – she could be next, after all. She wanted to protect her children, and I didn’t consider the cost of doing it. Without giving myself a moment to reconsider, I stepped into her doorway and hugged her. She squeezed me tightly, a little too tight, and when she eventually stepped back, she smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Neve.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Being a friend.’

  Her words broke my heart.

  ‘Shall we go?’ she said, lifting her smile. Baz was working the late clinic, so our next stop was the doctor’s surgery, and once he was collected, we would go to The Miners’ Arms together.

  As we stepped out of the wind and into the pub, I was struck by just how busy it was; catching Baz’s eyes – which were bloodshot and dilated – I could see he too was in shock at the same thing. Mostly locals, some not. I expected everyone to stop talking and stare, like the smokers had done only a few days ago. But they didn’t. People gave knowing looks, polite nods or sympathetic smiles. The only person who eyed us with any suspicion was PC Hastings, but I reasoned it was because he felt like he had to more than anyone else. The boys approached the bar whilst Holly and I found a table.

  ‘Here you are, guys,’ Baz said, placing a tray of drinks down, his hand instantly going to his ear to pull on his lobe the moment he could.

  ‘Thanks, Baz,’ I said.

  ‘I need this,’ Holly sighed, and for a moment we didn’t speak, each one of us focused on our glass, the occasional glance to one another, unsure of what to do or say.

  ‘I can’t believe how busy it is here tonight. It’s not been this rammed since…’

  Michael didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. I noticed Baz looking intently around the pub, like he was trying to work something out.

  ‘Baz?’

  ‘I was just thinking. He might be in this pub right now, having a beer.’

  I shifted in my chair, trying to take a look around the room. It was pointless, everyone could be the Drifter. And no one. He could stand right next to me and I would have no idea who he was; none of us would.

  ‘Baz, Neve, stop looking for him,’ Michael said quietly. ‘All that’s going to happen is you’re going to start thinking everyone is him. It’s a slippery slope to somewhere none of us want to go if we let our paranoia take hold.’

  ‘Michael’s right, we need to calm down. Has anyone heard anything new?’ Holly asked, trying to sound calm but the tremor in her voice giving her away.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ Baz said.

  Just then, Derrick came over to our table. ‘What are you lot doing here?’ he said. He didn’t sound confrontational; if anything he sounded frightened.

  ‘We just needed a drink,’ Michael said, honestly. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m surviving.’

  ‘Place is busy.’

  ‘Yeah. People enjoying the fact that two of their own are missing.’

  I wanted to say something, but what could I say that would make any impact?

  ‘Something weird is going on here,’ he continued. ‘I don’t know what, but I do know it’s something to do with you.’

  I felt heat rush into my face. ‘How do you mean?’ I said, taking a sip of my drink and trying to appear cool.

  ‘People are talking a lot about Chloe, about what might have happened to her. They think what’s happening now is connected.’

  ‘What makes people think that?’

  ‘The tops, mainly. And Hastings said you saw the Drifter, Neve – is that true?’

  I couldn’t believe it; that little weasel took information I confided in him as a police officer and turned it into gossip. Looking past Derrick to the bar, I saw Hastings looking my way. Wanker.

  ‘Maybe, I don’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t believe us about the Drifter then, Derrick, why now?’

  ‘You were kids, and the whole village knew you were mixed up in things: drink, drugs. And when the police found nothing but a bloody top, it was hard to trust your version of events.’

  ‘Why would we make it up, Derrick?’

  ‘I don’t know. We were in shock over Chloe. Scared. No one was thinking right and by the time we were, the Drifter had become a ghost story, like most of the bloody stories around here. I believe you now.’

  ‘And the police?’ I asked, gesturing towards the bar.

  ‘That little shit. Who knows what he’s thinking?’

  ‘I think I want to go home,’ Holly said, her face washed out.

  ‘I’ll take you back.’

  ‘Thanks, Michael.’

  ‘I think we should all go home,’ Baz agreed. I could sense he was pleased as much as he was frightened. We had appeared in the world again, and the world suggested it would be best we hid. There would be no rumours about us, no speculation as to why we were hiding. No questions of guilt. People were connecting now to what happened in 1998, and the warning rang true that we could be next. Fri
ghteningly, the Drifter was out there somewhere. Waiting to punish us for reasons only he knew. We finished our drinks quickly and headed out.

  We didn’t talk much as Michael drove us all home, all of us trying to process what was going on, the lies we had told, and how they had come back to haunt us. Michael dropped me off last, and before getting out of his car I asked for a cigarette.

  ‘I thought you didn’t smoke?’

  ‘I don’t, but can I have one?’

  ‘Sure, here take the packet, there’s only a few in there but…’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, kissing him on the cheek.

  I got out of the car and went towards the front door. The wind was still strong and blew my hair across my face, into my eyes. I unlocked the door and nipped to get a lighter from the kitchen. The oven was on again, but nothing was in it this time, thankfully. Back on the doorstep I pulled the door to and tried to light the cigarette. It took several attempts, the wind kept snuffing the flame and I was out of practice. Four attempts, and it was lit. As I inhaled, I coughed, the smoke tickling down into my lungs, making them feel heavy. But the taste – that was something I had missed dearly without even knowing it. I took a few more drags, enjoying the light-headed feeling as the rush of nicotine hit my blood stream. Blowing the smoke up into the sky I watched the wind push mackerel clouds in front of the moon, which was bright and full. I’d not seen a sky like it since moving to London. And for a moment, I let myself enjoy it. I shook off my guilt and stress and worry and floated with the clouds as I smoked my cigarette. And it was wonderful.

  Bending down to stub out the burning ambers the moment passed, and the tension flooded back. As I stood, I gasped, fear shooting through me causing my whole body to prickle with pins and needles. My muscles ready to fight or flight. Because standing at the end of my footpath was a man in a long, dark coat.

  Chapter 33

  July 1998

  That same night. One week before…

  After Neve suggested Michael steal some alcohol, there was a brief silence.

  ‘What?’ Holly said gasping.

  ‘I dare you to steal some booze from the offie,’ Neve said again.

  ‘That’s a stupid idea,’ Holly said in protest. But no one was listening. Baz clapped approvingly, and Neve went on to remind him that he stole a case of hooch when they first found the hut.

  ‘That was different,’ Michael said, ‘and besides, I got caught, remember? Old Busby threated to call the police. I lost my shitty job. Don’t any of you care?’ He laughed, but behind it there was a nervousness.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Neve said.

  ‘Michael, you can’t back out of this,’ Baz said, slapping his friend on the back. Michael nodded, said he’d do it, and puffed out his chest, trying to fake confidence. He joked that Mr Busby, the shopkeeper, was old and dithery. ‘It would be like taking candy from a drunk baby,’ he said as the group mobilised, blowing out candles before heading towards the hatch.

  The gang walked up the lane, quiet whispers between each other as they made plans. Jamie and Neve, now too embarrassed to walk together, kept apart. Jamie was up front with Baz and Michael, bounding with the boys who didn’t believe in consequences, Georgia in the centre of them all, soaking in their male energy. Chloe stopped to sort out the shoelace that had come undone and watched as Neve and Holly walked on. Neve had linked arms with Holly, but not in the same way she linked arms with Chloe. She could tell, Neve was just hanging onto Holly, forcing her to move. She almost called out for someone to wait, but worried she would look foolish, so didn’t. With her shoelace tucked back in its place she stood and felt a shudder up her spine, and the sensation of being watched. She looked to her right, into the thick line of trees, unable to see anything beyond the first few feet. Looking over her shoulder back at the hut she swore, for a split second, there was someone walking past it, towards the mine. She almost mentioned it to the others, but knew it was more than likely her drunk, tired eyes seeing things. Speeding up, she linked arms with Neve on the other side of Holly and didn’t dare to look back again.

  ‘Chloe, you OK?’ Neve asked, feeling the tension transfer to her.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.’ Chloe smiled. But even in the near pitch black, Neve could see her friend’s eyes looked hollow.

  The group turned onto the main road that ran through the village, designed to connect most of the homes to the mine, and in the distance, they could see the lights of the Victoria Wine shop where Michael would attempt to complete his dare.

  ‘How are you going to do it?’ Baz asked as they walked, rubbing his mate’s shoulders like a trainer before his boxer stepped into the ring.

  ‘I need a distraction. Someone to keep Mr Busby busy.’

  ‘I can do it,’ Georgia said. ‘I’ve got about 30p. I’ll buy a bar of chocolate.’

  ‘Brilliant. While you do that, Michael, you go to the fridge at the back and grab a bottle of something.’

  ‘Any preference?’ Michael replied, trying to sound braver than he actually felt.

  The group walked past the shop, looking back in. There were no other customers inside. Then, as Baz, Jamie, Neve, Holly and Chloe waited around the side of the building, Michael and Georgia went in. The group seemed to be waiting for what felt like way too long before the front door crashed open, Georgia running out first and heading away from the group. The deep, gravelly voice of Mr Busby followed from inside the shop. ‘Come back here, you little shits!’

  Michael staggered into the road, and he too ran, followed by a large, red-faced, heavy-breathing man with a manic look in his eye. ‘I’ll kill ya, you little bugger!’ he yelled as he turned and saw the others hiding down the side of his shop.

  ‘Shit, run!’ Baz yelled as he bolted away.

  Neve turned and darted behind the shop, heading in the other direction to where she saw Georgia, Michael and Baz run. Behind her was Jamie. As she ran, she heard Mr Busby call out that he was ringing the police, and fear shot into her veins. If she was caught, if her dad found out… He was a hard man; a proud man and she knew he would go ballistic at her. Putting her head down, she ran faster and harder than she ever had until the main strip of the village was far behind, and the streetlamps less regular. She paused beside the social club, the sound of a few men jeering and laughing coming from within, her dad no doubt inside, assuming she was with her friends at a girly sleepover.

  She fought to catch her breath. She couldn’t see Jamie, or anyone else, and feeling insecure she started to move again. As she did, sirens whirled towards her. As the sounds of the police drew closer, she increased her walking speed and knowing she needed to hide, turned onto the single-track lane that led to the country park that sat in the shadow of the old mine headstocks. Although she wanted to move fast, the lack of light meant she had to be careful – the deeper she walked into the country park, the darker it became, as if the night was swallowing the last of the light from the day. The tarmac soon became loose gravel but she could see a line of grass in the middle of the lane, guiding her deeper in. On her right, the trees were so densely packed it may as well have been a solid wall, and she thought to herself she was stupid for coming this way. To her right she heard a twig break. The suddenness of it snapping punctuated the silence. She stood up, held her breath. There was another twig. Somewhere in the darkness, something was moving. Then she heard a voice, quiet, ghostly.

  ‘Hello,’ it said, and for a moment Neve thought it was one of the lost souls from the stories. ‘Hello,’ it called again, and her skin prickled with fear. A shape, an outline of a person, came towards her from the gloom. She stumbled away from the bench and was about to bolt, when the voice spoke again.

  ‘Neve, is that you?’ Hearing her name placed the voice and she exhaled loudly, relieved.

  ‘Jamie?’

  ‘Yes. It’s me,’ he said as he stepped close enough for her to make out his features.

  ‘Shit, I thought you were… you know, him.’

  �
�Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. Where are the others?’ Neve asked.

  ‘I don’t know. The police are looking.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘I don’t think the police will look down here, I think we wait it out.’

  ‘Yeah, good idea.’

  Neve sat on the bench and Jamie sat beside her. She felt exhausted from the roller-coaster of adrenaline, excitement and fear. Without asking, she placed her head on his shoulder.

  ‘I just want to go home,’ she said quietly, closing her eyes, surprised she felt so safe with Jamie. He wrapped his arm round her, and the haunted, frightening place that existed only a moment before became something else, a haven for the two of them. She lifted her head, turned to face him, and his eyes stayed on hers. For a moment, she thought they might kiss, she moved to initiate it, but just as she did, he looked away, over her head, towards the old mine.

  ‘Feels like it’s always watching, doesn’t it?’ he said, and Neve looked too, grateful he hadn’t noticed her attempt to kiss him.

  ‘I don’t know why they don’t just knock it down.’

  ‘Because it’s still important,’ he said.

  ‘To who?’

  ‘You know, my dad, your dad. Every other family in the village. We’re all connected to it.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. How are we gonna move on and be something else if it’s always there,’ she asked, and Jamie could sense an anger or resentment at it, although he didn’t know why. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ she continued playfully, lifting the mood.

  ‘I love secrets.’

  ‘The mine, it’s always creeped me out.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘The stories, you know, people dying down there. It’s spooky.’

  ‘Neve, do you believe in ghosts?’

  ‘No, not at all, it’s just creepy, isn’t it?’

  ‘I do… believe.’