by Nick Gifford
“You just found him, you say.”
Matt nodded. He had to think quickly. He took the back door key from his pocket and held it out for the policeman to see. “I had a key,” he said. “I knew this place was empty. I didn’t know there’d be a fuss.”
“What about the Reverend Walters?”
Matt struggled to come up with an explanation. “I’d just got up. I came down here and found him.”
“‘Just got up’? It’s half past three in the afternoon.”
“Like I say,” said Matt. “I lost track.”
The ambulance pulled away and the other policeman approached them. “Unconscious,” he said, glancing at Matt. “He’s taken one hell of a beating.”
Cooper took Matt by the arm. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going to need a statement.”
~
“Where the hell have you been?”
What a lovely welcome home, thought Matt. He’d been attacked by lawn-mowers, zombie vicars and mad dogs, he’d found another vicar beaten halfway to death, he’d been quizzed by the police and now this: his angry mother laying into him in a police interview room.
“Gramps’ house,” he said. “I couldn’t help it. I had to think.”
She was shaking her head. “Oh no,” she said. “Don’t think we didn’t look there. Where have you been?”
He moved towards the door. “You wouldn’t want to know,” he said. She was wearing the suit she had bought for her interviews. “Shouldn’t you be working?” he asked.
“Of course I should be damned well working!” she screeched at him. “But I got a phone call from the police, didn’t I? They told me my son, who’s been missing for a week, has turned up at my father’s house along with someone who’s been beaten nearly to death. So I thought that, on the whole, the best thing to do was to come down here to the police station and drag you out of whatever hole you’ve dug for yourself, didn’t I?”
He walked out into the corridor. How could he even begin to explain?
16 Catching Up
The police station was down in old Bathside, near to the docks at Eastquay. They walked back towards Aunt Carol’s house by the Bay.
Matt’s mother kept up a brisk, angry pace. The sound of her heels clicking loudly as she walked only served to emphasise the silence between the two of them.
“How’s work?” Matt asked eventually.
He thought she wasn’t going to answer, then finally she said, “It was fine until today. I’m temping at a printing company now. I started yesterday, despite everything. It took my mind off things, at least. I don’t know if they’ll have me back after this though.”
More silence.
They passed the park, then turned left down Bagshaw Terrace. Matt looked warily at the rows of windows, half-expecting to see ghoulish faces pressed against the glass, watching him. Waiting.
But they were just windows. Ordinary windows.
The Bay came into sight, up ahead. Grey-blue, no sign of anything floating, no crimson-stained gulls scavenging in the waves.
He may have mastered the family talent, he realised, but now he had to come to terms with everyday reality: everything he saw disturbed him, as if at any moment he might be dumped back into that gruesome other world. He trusted nothing.
“How’s Gramps?” he asked. Seven days. Such a lot could have happened in seven days.
His mother glanced at him. “You’ll have to visit him this evening,” she said. “I’ve called him already but he wants to see you. He’s been worried sick about you. I didn’t tell him you’d gone, I didn’t want to upset him, but Tina blurted it out before I could warn her.”
Still in hospital? “I didn’t think he’d still be there,” he said.
His mother glanced at him. “He had an infection,” she told him. “It often happens when old people go into hospital. The infection brought on a bout of pneumonia. He’s pulling through, though. If everything goes well he should be out in a few days.”
They passed the war memorial – columns of names etched into each of its six sides – and, just before turning into Carol’s street, Matt’s mother paused. “Matt,” she said, hesitantly. “Your father came down on Sunday. He was worried sick. We all were.”
“And?”
She shook her head. “And nothing, Matt. He came down to see if he could help. We had an argument. He blamed me because he thought I should have kept more control of you. I blamed him because I was sure you were trying to make your way back to Norwich to see him.” She smiled, then. “It was just like old times.”
For an instant, he thought she meant... but then she shook her head. “No, Matt. There’s no going back. But eventually we agreed that we both want what’s best for you. Your father agreed to pay the deposit if I can find somewhere to live, then we’ll come to whatever arrangement suits you best. You’re old enough to work out what’s right.
“And Matt, you really should have talked. You shouldn’t have just gone off like that.”
He turned away. He couldn’t explain. Not now, perhaps not ever. It would only make things worse.
~
They were all there, waiting. As soon as the door shut behind Matt and his mother, they crowded round – Carol, Mike and the girls in the kitchen and living room doorways, Vince at the top of the stairs – all of them staring.
Matt smiled. “Hi,” he said brightly. “Missed me?”
Tina turned away angrily, pulling her sister back into the living room. Mike stood shaking his head in disapproval, while Carol forged her stiff smile across her features before saying, “Matthew. We were concerned.”
Vince stood nonchalantly at the top of the stairs. He was watching Matt closely, and he was smiling. Matt met his eyes briefly, then followed his mother through to the kitchen.
Carol was slicing carrots on a marble cutting board. Matt glanced out of the window into the garden, recalling how good she was with the shears... He was going to have to learn how to separate his memories – the real and the alternate – and quickly. He would go mad, otherwise – he felt sure of that.
His presence made Carol uneasy, he could see. She didn’t know how to handle him, she didn’t know what to say.
“Did Dad stay for long?” he asked. He knew Carol didn’t like his father. Merely referring to his visit made her visibly tense.
“A couple of hours,” said his mother quickly. “Long enough.”
Long enough to argue. Long enough to negotiate over his future. Long enough to know they had no future themselves.
“Call him,” she went on. “Ask him yourself. I’m sure he’s waiting by the phone.”
“Good day at work?” asked Carol cheerfully.
“I had to leave early,” said his mother in a tightly controlled voice.
Matt left them to it. From the hallway, he peered in through the open door to the living room. They were all in there, just an ordinary family.
He went upstairs. There was a telephone on the first floor landing. He took it from the top of a chest of drawers and sat on the floor. After a few seconds, he picked up the receiver and listened for the dialling tone to make sure no-one was using the other extension. Then he dialled his home number.
“Hi, Nigel Guilder here, all your copying and reprographic requirements satisfied with the minimum of fuss. Afraid I can’t make it to the phone right now, but if you’d be so good as to leave your number after the tone I’ll get back to you at the first opportunity. Thanks for calling.”
He listened to the tone. He thought about saying something, but decided against it. He was just about to put the receiver back on its rest when there was a click, a voice: “Hello? Hello? Who’s that?”
“Dad?”
There was a brief silence. “Matt... Thank god for that. Jesus, Matt, you had us so worried. Your mother called this afternoon to say you were okay. Jesus, Matt. Jesus. Matt, are you there?”
“Sure, Dad, I’m here. I’m sorry. How’s things?”
“Ticking over,”
said his father. “Same as ever. Well no... that’s not true, is it? Okay though. Listen, we’ve got to talk, haven’t we? Sort a few things out. Fancy a trip up on Saturday? City are playing at home, I think – fancy that? Hey, are you fixed up with a team down there, yet? That is, of course, if you’re planning to stay down there. Oh, Jesus, Matt, I’m making a mess of this, aren’t I? Are you going to come up and see me? We’ll sort everything out, okay?”
“Sure, Dad. We’ll sort everything out.”
Suddenly, he became aware that he wasn’t alone. He looked up, certain that it would be Vince, or maybe Tina, come to gloat.
It was Kirsty. Watching him. Waiting for him to finish.
“Hey, Dad, I got to go, okay? I just thought I’d... you know, let you know. I’ll call, okay?” He replaced the receiver, then reached up to put the telephone back on the chest of drawers.
He looked up at Kirsty, wondering how much she knew. She looked pale and nervous. Was she going to have one of her turns?
“You okay?” he asked.
She licked her lips and gave a brief nod.
“You know where I was, don’t you?”
She looked genuinely puzzled, then her expression cleared. “You were in my dreams,” she said. “You called to me. You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” said Matt gently. “It was important. I couldn’t have come back without your help. I’ll always be grateful for what you did.”
“I keep dreaming,” she said. “I can’t stop them. It’s frightening. The dreams are so much stronger now. They want me to help them, like I helped you. They want to break out.”
“But you beat them, don’t you?” said Matt. “Every time you have to beat them. Do you remember how you beat them? Remember the words Gramps taught you? The words that close the doors in your mind?”
She nodded. “It’s hard sometimes.”
“Of course it is,” said Matt. “But you always win. Because you’re stronger than all those dreams. Do you believe me, Kirsty? Isn’t that what Gramps would tell you?”
She smiled now. Suddenly, she rushed forward and hugged him. “I’m glad you didn’t stay in my dreams, Matt. It’s not a very nice place.”
~
They’d moved Gramps along the ward, farther from the door. Matt hoped that was a good sign. Someone had once told him that they kept the sickest ones by the door – that way they didn’t have to keep wheeling the bodies out past the healthy.
Matt had hoped to see him up and out of his bed, but he was lying there, looking horribly weak. “A little more poorly today,” the nurse had told him when he arrived at the ward.
“Gramps?”
At the sound of his voice, his grandfather turned his head and stared at him. “Matt,” he said. He opened his mouth, but no more words came.
“I’m back,” said Matt. “I’m okay.”
“You’ve been...?”
Matt nodded. “I’ve been there.”
Gramps looked shocked. “I never knew it was possible,” he said. “I never could. I never had your kind of strength. You have to be careful...”
Matt nodded, and said, “Kirsty helped me out. I’ve learnt a lot. I understand now.”
“You have to be careful, boy. You can’t play games with it. It’s too strong for that. You can’t risk it spilling out. You can’t!”
His grandfather’s body arched upwards as he spoke. Matt looked around, half-expecting to see a nurse rushing towards them. Nobody seemed to have noticed.
“I know, Gramps,” he said softly. “I know what’s at stake.”
“Why’d you do it? Why did you fool with it?”
Matt sat on the edge of the bed. “I had to learn to control it,” he tried to explain. “Vince –”
Gramps gasped at the name, then narrowed his eyes. “Don’t have anything to do with him, Matt, d’you hear me? His kind... they’re drawn to the Way. It gets into their heads and they get all kinds of reckless ideas. They only... only cause trouble...”
Matt was sure his grandfather had been about to say more, but instead he stopped and his gaze became more distant. “What is it, Gramps?”
Gramps looked at him again. “Your grandmother took pity on him,” he said. “She tried to help him be a better person. But he was full of it all by then. He tried to use her. He knew I was closed to him, and he knew I’d closed Kirsty to him. He thought your grandmother was a way through, but she wasn’t. Eventually she saw him for what he was: a vessel of darkness whose only interest was in opening up the Way so that he could use its powers. He thought he’d be someone special with all that power at his disposal – the rest of us would have to respect him. We’d have to do anything he wanted. He didn’t understand that it was just using him. Your grandmother tried to explain to him.”
“And?”
He shook his head. “You know the rest, boy. I’m sure you know the rest.”
~
Vince was outside, working on his car again. From the other side of Bay Road, Matt could see him bent over the engine.
He crossed over, and then turned down the street where his aunt lived. When he looked up again, the car’s bonnet was closed and Vince had gone. Then he spotted him, sitting in the driver’s seat with the window open, sucking on a cigarette.
Matt stopped by the passenger door and swung it open. He climbed in and slammed the door and as he rolled the window down, he was aware of Vince’s watching eyes.
“Thought I’d got you wrong,” his cousin said finally. “Thought you weren’t strong enough.” He smiled. “Thought we’d lost you.”
“Why did you do it?” asked Matt. “That vicar’s nearly dead – he probably would be, if I hadn’t found him when I did. You didn’t have to do that.”
Vince tipped his head back and puffed a succession of smoke circles into the air. “He was snooping,” he said, when he had finished. “Poking his nose in where it don’t belong. I didn’t want him messing things up for you, Matt. I was trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need that kind of protection.”
“What was it like?”
Matt stared into the distance. “Like... like nothing you can really imagine, but at the same time so ordinary. Like living in every nightmare you’ve ever had. You killed Gran, didn’t you? You killed her because you couldn’t use her.”
Vince’s expression barely flickered. “Life’s tough,” he said. “You have to make choices. Some of them aren’t easy. She was the only one who ever trusted me, but then they turned her against me. That was her choice.”
“So you killed her.”
“I had an argument with her,” he said. “Just the two of us. I raised my hand and she thought I was going to smack her one, but I couldn’t. Not her. Not even then. But she thought I could. She fell down the stairs trying to get away from me. She should have trusted me. She should have known I wouldn’t hurt her. I only wanted her to help me.”
He took a cigarette out and lit it from the old one, which he then stubbed out on the back of the packet and flicked out of the window. “We all have choices to make, Matt. You can’t go changing them later. All that’s in the past now, it doesn’t count in the long run.”
He turned to Matt, fixing him with his dark eyes. “What matters is you, Matt. The things you can do, the powers you can set free. I want a part of it, do you understand? My whole life has been leading up to this point. The world’s full of people who’ll try to stop you making the most of your abilities. Busybodies who’ll do all they can to interfere. I’ll be your protector, I’ll help you.
“You’ve had a taste of it, Matt. You, more than anybody, know the powers you can release into the world. Between us, we can control it.”
Matt sat back and closed his eyes. So much to take in. He had learnt to control his powers, but could he really learn to use them, too?
Vince was staring at him.
Who should he believe?
Matt remembered one of his first assessments of his cousin: the kind of person you
would always want on your own side.
“I don’t know,” he said. “There’s so much I don’t know.”
Vince nodded grimly. “So much to learn,” he said. “And I’m offering you the time to learn it.”
~
It all changed again later that evening.
They had eaten dinner in the familiar tense atmosphere, only lightened when Matt’s mother raised the possibility of flat-hunting in the next few days. Tina, in particular, brightened at that suggestion.
Afterwards, Matt went up and changed into his tracksuit. He would go out for a run along the beach. It might help him exorcise a few mental ghosts, as well as prepare for the new football season. It would give him a chance to think, a chance to get away from all this forced niceness.
He was on the bottom step when there was a loud knock at the front door.
He swung it open. There was a tall, dark-haired man on the doorstep, standing with his hands at his sides. Behind him were two more men. Matt recognised one of them as the Detective Sergeant who had come out to Crooked Elms that afternoon. The other man was a uniformed policeman.
The first man held out an ID card. “Detective Inspector Stead, Bathside Police,” he said.
What more could they want, Matt wondered? He had answered all their questions this afternoon. He had thought it was all sorted out.
The man was still talking.
“... to talk to Vincent Smith. Is he here?”
Matt glanced over his shoulder. Carol and Mike had appeared in the living room doorway. “Just missed him,” said Mike. He pointed out towards the street: there was a space where Vince’s Ford Escort had been parked earlier. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“Where did he go?” asked Stead. “It’s important that we find him quickly. We have reason to believe he is a danger to the public.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Mike. “What are you talking about?” He guided Carol out into the hallway, shutting the living room door behind them.
Stead looked at each of them in turn, before resting his eyes on Mike once again. “The Reverend David Walters died in Bathside General Hospital about half an hour ago,” he said carefully. “He died from a blood clot resulting from the assault he suffered at your father-in-law’s house in Crooked Elms. He regained consciousness briefly this evening and he was able to make a statement to one of my officers.
