by J. A. Baker
‘You have to remember, Arthur, she had a dreadful time as a youngster, and—’
‘So did you! But you haven’t kidnapped somebody, have you?’
My heart feels like it’s going to explode right out of my chest. ‘I know, but her family didn’t handle it as well as we did,’ I say, my breath pulsing out of me in short, stuttering gasps. ‘Her father committed suicide and her sister is a drug addict. Beverley’s mother blames her for all that went on Greg’s death, her dad’s death, her sister’s addiction. She should never have gone out and left Greg with Lissy. If she had stayed in the house as she was told to then none of it would have happened.’ I stop, suddenly breathless, my face hot with humiliation at the fact I am associated with all of this.
‘We need to call the police. You do know that, don’t you?’ He is calmer now. His brain has clicked into work mode and he is planning, working out a way to resolve everything.
I am awash with relief. Arthur knows. He is here with me and he is going to sort it all out.
‘I didn’t know she was actually going to do anything like this, Arthur,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I keep my eyes lowered, not wanting to see the look of disgust in his expression.
‘It’s fine. You’re not the one involved in it. It’s her, this Beverley who’s done this, not you. Problem is,’ he says, and my blood freezes, ‘we don’t know where she is, do we? How can we tell the police where to look when we don’t know where she is?’
Something stirs in my brain; a memory slowly coming to life. A fragment of a thought pushing its way forward until I jump up and grab at my phone.
‘Here!’ I half shout, thrusting the screen in front of Arthur’s face. ‘She sent me her address and I meant to delete it but didn’t! It’s here!’ I say, panic and tension rippling through me at the thought of being able to help her, to bring this whole sorry mess to an end. ‘Oh God, we need to ring them as soon as possible. Oakhill is where she lives, Arthur. Oakhill in North Yorkshire …’
I watch as Arthur punches a number into his own phone and stares at the address on the screen in front of him. My chin trembles. He gives me a smile and winks at me and it’s then that I know he is in charge once again. I lean back in the chair and let the tears come.
Lissy
Daryl? What has he got to do with all of this? I feel as if I can’t breathe properly. What the hell is going on here? I wince and blink back tears as Rosie and I are dragged along, our legs weak with fear. My heart breaks as I watch my daughter get assaulted and manhandled by that thug. The look on his fat, ugly face tells me he’s enjoying this as well. He always was completely gross. People don’t really change, do they? We are what we are, and he is, and always will be, a complete monster.
I am furious at my own powerlessness against these two maniacs. I have to do something or we will both die. I feel sure of it. A picture of Rupert flits into my thoughts. He was innocent all along and now he had been brought into this situation, become embroiled in my past. He is hurt next door. He could be bleeding to death with nobody to help him. And he is unable to help us. What a fucking awful mess this whole thing is.
‘In there!’ I hear Beverley’s voice as we stumble into the back garden and head towards the side door of the garage. I meet Rosie’s eyes and mouth to her to stay silent. She nods sagely, terror dilating her pupils and drawing all the colour out of her skin. A large red welt is appearing on her face and as I watch it grow and discolour. I want to launch myself at him, knock him to the floor, and tear at his skin with my nails. How dare he? How fucking dare he?
‘Rope,’ Beverley says, her voice low and croaky. Hope grows in me that she is starting to lose her nerve and has thought better of killing us. ‘We need something to tie them up.’
I pray they find something, otherwise their frustration and fury will only increase, and if that happens there’s no telling what they might do. In my mind, I see Daryl’s hand as it hits Rosie’s face, and I try to think of a way out of this. I need to do something.
‘Here!’ Daryl’s voice echoes through the emptiness of the garage. ‘No rope but some tape down here with these paintbrushes and stuff.’
‘Perfect,’ Beverley says, in a voice so dead and lifeless it terrifies me. A dagger of ice scrapes down my spine.
They make us sit back to back on the concrete floor and tape our hands together behind our backs before pulling off two long strips and slapping them across our mouths. He is loving this. I can see by his eyes. There is fire in them. His skin is red and he is barely able to keep still, rubbing his hands together and shifting from foot to foot as he watches Beverley apply a second strip of tape over our mouths pressing it down so hard I feel sure my teeth will crumble away. They tape our ankles together and step back, staring at us both.
I make a muffled cry but they ignore me, too high on their own excitement, too involved in their own sick plans.
‘Right, we’ll leave them here for now. Until I’ve worked out what to do next.’
I watch the way Beverley shuffles her feet across the floor, notice her awkward gait, how her head is lowered, and I realise she is unravelling fast. My stomach shifts and turns. She could go either way; lose all sense of reality and slice our throats open, or lose her nerve and soften. I have no idea which way it will go and hope that she sees sense. I shut my eyes tight and pray for a miracle.
Beverley
‘Some place this, isn’t it?’ Daryl says breezily as we head back into the house through the back door. I try to ignore him. He’s ruined this whole thing; scuppered my plans and sent me off-kilter. I can’t seem to think straight any more since he’s shown his face.
I look around and try to see the house through his eyes but all that greets me is a huge lounge and a clinical kitchen. Everything has suddenly lost its shine, the allure all gone now I’m in here.
‘She always was a skanky bitch, wasn’t she? How the fuck did she end up with a place like this?’ He is walking the length of the living room, his fingers trailing over the walls and along the length of the cabinet that sits halfway along the room.
I shrug, no longer interested in her financial situation. I need to work out what to do next. An idea of driving them miles away from here and dumping them in a field or a quarry somewhere really remote pops into my head and gladdens my heart. I wouldn’t give them any money or water. If they make it back home then they make it back home. And if they don’t … well that’s just tough, isn’t it? I smile to myself. It’s an appealing option.
I sit on the sofa, feeling the expensive leather spread and sigh under my weight. Daryl waddles over, hitching his trousers up before sitting down next to me. I stare at him, unable to believe this is the same person I had the most terrible teenage crush on all those years ago.
‘She deserved it after what she did, anyway,’ he says sharply. I don’t reply. He shouldn’t be here. He has spoilt everything.
‘Bet she thought it was you, didn’t she?’ he laughs.
‘What was me?’ I ask, not really interested in what he has to say. I need to think. Get this sorted.
‘The letters and stuff.’ He chuckles. I don’t answer him. He’ll tell me without me prompting him anyway. He is full of himself today. Never changed. But then, people don’t, do they? The passing of time can enhance or lessen our traits and characteristics, but deep down the very essence of who we are never really alters.
‘After I saw her in the garden that day when I dropped her neighbour off, I couldn’t resist.’ He guffaws as he slaps his leg. ‘I mean, if she’s gonna make herself that obvious then she should expect a bit of aggro, shouldn’t she?’
I stare at him, unblinking. He doesn’t seem to notice my dull, uninterested expression and carries on as if I am interested in what it is he’s got to say.
‘So, I sent her a letter saying she was a murderous old monster.’ He cackles loudly as I think about the one I sent.
Getting Rosie’s mobile number was a doddle. All I had to do was ask one o
f her friends, telling her it was to put on the system as a contact number because she was new to the school. She only had one pal anyway and she gave it to me without question. Some kids are so naive and trusting it’s frightening. I had no idea Daryl was at it as well, sticking his oar in, getting involved in something that has nothing to do with him.
‘And then,’ he adds, ‘I knocked a fox over while I was doing a drop-off in the next village. Fucking stupid thing ran right out in front of me. Nearly dented my bumper bar, it did. The idea came to me straight away. I dragged it into the boot and dumped it on her front step, right here!’ He hoots with laughter, throwing his head back manically.
I say nothing, hoping he will tire of my silence and leave me alone. I need some solitude to help me think. He doesn’t move for a good while and I can feel him watching me, but then I hear the creak of leather and feel his body heat close to me as he sidles along, his fingers trailing over my back. I edge away, but he moves even closer, his leg touching mine.
‘We had some good times, didn’t we, Bev?’ He smiles at me and a waft of halitosis drifts in my direction. I close my mouth and exhale through my nose, the stench too much for me to bear. ‘Some great times,’ he murmurs quietly, ‘the best,’ he says, and places his hand on my knee. ‘Until she came along, that is, and spoilt it all. Stupid fucking bitch.’ His hand drops and I flinch as he moves it to the inside of my leg.
‘What are you doing?’ I whisper and feel a flicker of disgust as he starts to move his fingers, trailing them up the inside of my thigh.
‘What am I doing, Bev?’ he says huskily. ‘You remember this, don’t you? I’m doing what you and I did best. What we could still be doing if it wasn’t for that silly old hag.’
He continues to slide his fingers upwards until he reaches the top of my thigh.
‘Still hot to trot, Beverley darling, eh?’ he says as he pulls my pants aside and stops before looking in my eyes, perspiration sitting around his hairline and on his top lip. ‘You always were up for it, weren’t you?’
‘Daryl, get off me,’ I whisper, the fog of anger and confusion lifting from my brain.
He laughs, a pathetic snorting chortle before leaning into me even closer. ‘We both know you don’t mean that, sweetheart. We both know you’re up for it. Always have been, always will be. Once a goer, always a goer. The best fuck in the whole of the north.’
I lean away from him, his hand dropping between my legs. ‘I’m sorry?’ My voice is unrecognisable to me, like a whisper coming in from outside, something completely disconnected to me.
‘Aw, come on! Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ he says, a smirk spreading across his face. ‘My mates told me all about your antics at university.’
I suddenly feel hot all over, my clothes sticking to me like cling film, perspiration coating my skin.
‘What did you just say?’ I gasp, my voice almost a shriek.
He pushes away from me, anger behind his eyes. ‘Don’t come all innocent with me, Beverley. From what I’ve heard, you had a fine old time at Newcastle University, shagging anything that moved. You even slept with one of my mates. He told me all about it said you were so drunk it was like fucking a dead fish.’
I stand up, heat escaping from under me as I stagger away, fear and anger blinding me.
‘You haven’t denied it, though, have you?’ he shouts as I lurch over to the edge of the room. I need to get away from him, away from his stench and huge stomach and greasy skin. I just need some time to think, to get my head sorted and think straight.
‘But you wouldn’t do it with me, would you?’ he shouts after me as I continue to pace the room.
‘I was only thirteen, for Christ’s sake!’ I bellow at him, my chest wheezing, my head throbbing as I stumble about, clinging on to the surfaces of the furniture for support.
‘Yeah, well,’ he mutters sullenly, ‘if it hadn’t been for what happened then maybe you would have hung around a bit longer, but instead you disappeared off the scene straight after. Nobody saw you. You forgot all about me, and then you went off to university and I never saw you again.’
I swing round to stare at him. ‘Disappeared off the scene? I was bloody distraught, for God’s sake!’
He shrugs and dips his eyes to stare at the carpet. ‘She deserved it though, didn’t she?’
I feel my heart crawl up my neck. ‘Who?’
‘Her,’ he says, ‘that bitch tied up in the garage. She deserved what happened to her. Getting the blame for it. After she left your house she tried it on with me, you know. Told me we could have something going. I told her where to get off, said you were the only one for me. That was just before I went to your place whe—’
‘STOP!’ I spin round to stare at him.
‘Told you, I gave her short shrift. Told her where to get off.’
‘We agreed!’ I shriek at him. ‘We said that we would never tell anybody you were round mine that night. We were never going to speak of it again. It was bad enough for my parents having to deal with what they had to deal with. Bad enough I spent half the night out with you,’ I say, tears coursing down my face. ‘But you promised you wouldn’t tell anybody you were there after she left.’
‘And I didn’t, did I? You really think I wanted the police coming to my house when my dad had just got out of prison for handling stolen goods? Jesus, how fucking stupid do you think I am?’
I don’t speak, too afraid of giving him my honest reply.
‘Don’t matter now, anyway, does it?’ he says sullenly. ‘Doesn’t matter who did it or what happened. She’s served her time and always was a complete fucking freak so …’
Blood roars up my neck and swims around my head.
‘What?’ I hear myself say, ‘what did you just say?’
He shrugs lightly, completely unruffled by my outburst.
‘I said it doesn’t matter who did it or what actually happened. I mean for fuck’s sake, Bev, he was left with her for most of the night, wasn’t he? He was up there covered with sheets and blankets when I went up.’
I try to align my thoughts, to go back to all those years ago. Daryl had come to the door and I had made the mistake of letting him in. He had practically fallen on me, pawing me and shoving his hand up my top. And at first, I liked it. He was one of the most popular lads in the school. Telling him to take a hike meant he may have dumped me and I didn’t want that. I liked the status that being with him brought; all the attention and admiration at being Daryl’s girlfriend gave me a real boost. But then he wouldn’t stop. His hands became unmanageable, pulling at my jeans, his saliva covering my face and neck, hot and sticky. I could feel his erection pressing against me and knew he didn’t plan on taking no for an answer. I was only thirteen, full of bravado, but underneath it all I was still scared. So, I pushed him away, told him he had to leave or my parents would kill us both. This infuriated him, brought out the worst in him, a raging, frustrated, young man with bulging eyes and a temper that knew no bounds. I swore at him, told him to get out.
‘Yeah, when I’ve had a piss, OK?’ he had said and disappeared upstairs.
I remember standing in the lounge, listening to the crash of my own heartbeat while he was up there, wondering if he would come down and start again, get so carried away he wouldn’t stop. I made the decision there and then that nobody would know he had been round. I had been under strict instructions to not let him in when my parents were out. It was bad enough I had been out for most of the night but if they discovered he had actually been in the house … my life wouldn’t have been worth living. Daryl’s family were a bad lot; in and out of prison, heavy drinkers who thought nothing of fighting in the street should anyone look at them the wrong way. His older brother had only recently appeared in court, charged with aggravated assault, and as Daryl was upstairs I began to worry he would do something similar to me. When he finally came down his face was flushed and I worried he was going to do something awful to me, but he didn’t. He shuffled about a bit sayin
g he’d better be off anyway. I recall feeling so relieved that I almost pushed him out of the door, yelling at him he mustn’t tell anybody he had been here.
‘What are you saying, Daryl?’ I mutter quietly, too afraid to voice my deepest, darkest fears out loud. ‘What is it you’re trying to tell me?’
He shrugs and pushes his bottom lip out. A tiny globule of spit appears at the edge of his mouth and dribbles down on to his chin, glistening on his pulpy, reddened flesh.
‘All I’m saying,’ he murmurs, wringing his hands tightly, ‘is that she deserved it, all right? Whatever happened to her, she had it fucking coming!’ He forces his bulky frame out of the seat. It wheezes gratefully, reshaping itself as he begins to pace around the room, his feet pounding across the wooden floor.
I can hardly breathe. My head throbs and my body expands with terror and rage as I analyse his words, try to sift through to the hidden meaning underneath all the anger and guff.
‘What happened upstairs, Daryl?’ I ask softly as I slyly put my hand in my pocket and grip my keys, running my fingers along the serrated edge. Not particularly sharp but enough to do any damage should I need to protect myself.
He doesn’t answer me. I try to keep my voice as calm as I possibly can when I finally speak again, ‘I mean, like you said not that it matters now, anyway. Lissy always was a mad bitch, wasn’t she? Totally freaky. She deserved everything that came her way. She’d already covered him with sheets and blankets, hadn’t she? Poor kid was probably already half dead when you went up there anyway …’
The world stops rotating. I watch him, waiting to see what his response is. He stops stalking around and stands in front of the window. I glance at the kitchen door as he speaks.
‘I was pissed off with you, Bev. Time and time again you’d turned me down. You got any idea what it feels like to have someone like you close-up, next to you, and for them to keep telling you, no? For them to have you dangling on a string like a fucking puppet?’
