Trials in Walls of Ivy (Triskelion Trilogy Book 1)

by Deborah Jayne Pye

  This Kindle book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Copyright © 2015 Deborah Jayne Pye

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious and are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual events, or locales or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  For my world:

  Christian

  Gabriel

  Nathaniel

  And as ever, my constant rock,

  Chris.

  Contents

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Epilogue

  PREFACE

  The warning light blinked faster. Its reflective glow illuminated the smooth walls of my hollow death chamber. I sat back on my knees, hypnotised by its incrementing beats.

  Here, below hundreds of thundering retreating feet, I was to die, alone. I closed my eyes and remembered the waves of my village beach, my sister’s toothy smile, his warm lips on mine. There would be no regret, no tears. If their lives meant the sacrifice of my own, I gave it gladly.

  My unshaking hands reached out, toward the bomb.

  CHAPTER ONE

  For the second time this shift, I watched as the plates fell from my hands. I stood frozen as they crashed to the sun-bleached tiled floor, shattering on impact. My teeth clenched as the ear splitting smash filed the room. The large jagged chunks scattered in every direction, whilst the miniscule fragments blended with the permanent pile of sand in the corner.

  “Not again, Roz,” my manager chided from behind the counter.

  She was trying to be patient, but I could see she was totting up the cost of replacing everything I had broken this morning.

  “Why don’t you work in the kitchen for a while?”

  “Sorry, June. I’ll clean it up first,” I said, with a lump in my throat.

  I was a walking disaster. A failure. The final reply had arrived in my inbox this morning. Eleven in total. I had worked hard through school, got myself the marks they requested. But, every university had replied with an undeniable rejection. Even the bottom of the league uni I’d added in a moment of doubt didn’t want me.

  My future was at my feet; the broken shards of a wonderful dream. I stood at the first hurdle of adult life and it had beaten me. No university, no education, no future other than waiting tables.

  I passed our Friday regular who sat in her usual corner. She grabbed my arm with a sympathetic smile.

  “Don’t worry honey, it’s just a plate.”

  She must have been in her eighties and every bit the stereotypical little old Granny. She was forever bringing me crotchet shawls and scarves she had made herself. I never had the heart to tell her I had no use for them. She had been a regular here at June’s Beach Bar since before I came to wait tables. With its driftwood decorations and salty air, the bar felt like an extension of the sea itself.

  I patted her shoulder in thanks and ducked behind the counter for the sweeping brush.

  “She had some more bad news, Dorothy.” My boss said, as she began to divulge my repeated rejections to my sympathetic customer.

  Rule one of our small Cornish village: there’s no such thing as a private life.

  I let out a groan to see the dustpan was still filled with the remains of my previous smashing time. I scooped it up and swung open the kitchen door. With a satisfying crash, I dumped the debris into the plastic bin. Why couldn’t all my problems be so easily disposed of?

  A second crash sounded from the café front. With my hand outstretched to the door, my face broke into a grin with the thought of not being the only clumsy one today. It swiftly fell when I heard Dorothy scream, followed by a man’s voice which boomed through the salty air. I froze, my hand still pressed against the door. Another male voice shouted from further away, followed by a dull thud.

  I stumbled back and span in circles searching for a place to hide, then instantly hated myself. June and Dorothy were my friends. How could I just leave them? I stepped back to the door and pushed. It didn’t move. I pushed again. It was like someone was leaning against it. I pressed my ear against the cold wood and my heart stopped.

  “All of it. Every penny, right now!” The deep voice of the man demanded.

  A faint whimpering sounded from the other side of the door. I had to do something. I couldn’t stand here and let who knows what happen to June and Dorothy. I scanned the room. What did I need? A knife? No, that would mean actually using it, or it being turned on me. The frying pan? No, too heavy.

  My heart skipped as I saw my bag. I had shoved it under the sink when I got my apron out this morning. I ripped it open and searched for my mobile. Three bars, halleluiah for tourists and their need for a signal on the beach. I swiped the screen and pressed the dreaded 999. It cut off and returned to the dial tone. I dialled again, to get the same result. I stared at it in disbelief. How could the emergency line be down?

  Another bang and thud erupted from the bar. It sounded like a chair had been thrown. I had to act. I grabbed a pile of tea towels from the drawer and stacked them in a neat pile. Then, switching my mobile to camera, I pressed record and concealed it within the towels with just enough room for the camera to see. With a nervous smile, I pushed hard on the door, forcing my way through.

  June stumbled forward, catching herself on the counter. She leaped back toward me, attempting to push me into the kitchen. Her eyes were wide, face drained of colour. I gripped her hand quickly and squeezed. Her fingers trembled as I guided her to the counter with me. The towels almost toppled to the floor as I laid them across the counter, discreetly positioning the camera toward the men. June squeezed my arm tighter, burying her head in my shoulder. I heard one of the men laugh as she sobbed silently. Heat flooded through me as my fists clenched. My head snapped around to look the laughing men directly.

  They were huge: each wearing matching leather jackets and motorbike helmets. The visors were open, making their eyes the only visible feature. The man in front was holding a long metal pipe. He held it like a baton, pounding it into his hand repeatedly. The smacking sound rebounded off the café walls, emphasising his intentions. The second man stood by the door with his arms folded. Hanging from one of his hands was a pillowcase.

  “A stow away. You going to give us what we want, sweet thing?” The man with the pipe leaned against the counter as he spoke, his hand lurking dangerously close to my concealed phone.

 
“That depends, what is it you want?” I said. I thought the best strategy was to get everything on camera that would incriminate the thugs.

  “Just everything you’ve got. This sweet thing here tells me there’s no more cash. Is that true?” He pointed toward the open till. It was empty.

  I moved toward the other side of the counter, hoping to draw him away from the towels for a better view. This would all be over if he discovered he was being recorded.

  “Look around you. Does this look like the kind of place that’s rolling in cash? It’s not even tourist season.” My voice trembled with the strain of forcing confidence.

  He slapped the metal pipe into his other palm and stepped toward me. “Then how about you? You got anything to offer?”

  Acid burned in my throat. I gulped as he leaned toward me, leering with a hungry grin. “Don’t you think you got enough?” I walked slowly through the bar hatch as I spoke and made my way over to Dorothy. She was clutching hold of her walking stick, like it could keep the men at bay.

  “Got enough? Not nearly, sweet thing. As you said, it’s out of season. Need something to keep me occupied until the willing victims arrive.” He groped at his pants to emphasise his meaning.

  Dorothy hobbled to a stand and tried to place herself in front of me. “Now you stop that. There will be none of that sort going on here. These here are nice girls. You leave them be.” She held her stick with shaking hands in his direction, mustering as much threat as she could.

  I put my arms around hers and guided her back to her seat. “Thank you, Dorothy. But you don’t need to worry.” I slid the stick from her hand as I spoke.

  Through the window I saw a woman walking her dog at the edge of the beach. A desperate idea filled my mind.

  “Oh, no?” The other man laughed, taking a step forward.

  I took hold of the walking stick like it was a weapon. “Stay back.”

  “You goin’ to beat us off with that?” The two men laughed together.

  I looked back over my shoulder to the woman walking her dog. She was moving out of ear shot, I had to act now. “No,” I shouted, my breath ragged with nerves, “I’m giving you the chance to walk away, right now.”

  My knuckles were white, and my fists stung with the grip around the salty wood. The two men erupted in laughter. The man by the door lunged forward.

  “I mean it!” I shouted, desperately.

  He took another step and I swung. He leaped back thinking I was aiming for him. The stick made contact with the window, and a spider web of cracks streaked from the point of impact. Both men rushed toward me, each one grabbing at my arms, pulling me toward them. Dorothy screamed as she was knocked back off her chair. The men’s hands groped at mine, trying to twist the stick free. I kicked out and slammed my foot into one of their shins. I kicked again, this time sinking my heel into soft tissue. The man with the pipe dropped to the ground with a grunt. I tried to kick again and again, but the second man was ready. He shoved me as I swung the stick and I fell against the cracked window. This time the surface erupted in a deafening shatter. Glass crashed to the floor, inside and out. I covered my head as it rained down over me, slashing my feet and bare legs.

  “What the…” the man began.

  He tried to pull at me once again. I swung the stick blindly, causing more glass to rain over my body. He stepped forward, his hand reaching for me. I brought the stick down on his head, hard. He stumbled back, staggering over the shards of glass. Without waiting to see what he did next, I sucked in a deep breath and bellowed out the loudest, longest scream I could manage. I dragged in a second breath and screamed again. Behind me, the men scrambled to escape as the morning walkers and winter beach enthusiasts ran to the sound of my screams. I watched through the open door as our attackers ran up the cliff face, away from the beach.

  The café was suddenly filled with rescuers. I dropped to the floor, my body shaking with relief.

  “Oh my love. What a brave girl you are.”

  Dorothy spat into her hanky and wiped away the tear I hadn’t realised I shed.

  “What quick thinking. But, oh my love, look at you.”

  I looked down at myself to see I was scratched and cut all over. I moved my arm and let out a yelp of pain.

  “Don’t you move. Let us get that cleaned up first so you don’t come to more harm,” she crooned.

  Voices grew louder as passers by continued to enter the café. I heard the beeps of phones as the ambulance was called. I yelped as Dorothy attempted to wipe my arm clean with her hanky.

  “June, go be getting that sweeping brush, there’s a good girl.” Dorothy seemed to be expertly taking charge of the room.

  My head and neck stung as I turned to look at June. She was clinging to the counter top, shaking. The dog-walking woman was trying unsuccessfully to ease her into a chair. A man in a wet suit bent down beside me and began to pull at my cardigan. I leaped back and screamed, causing the sting of glass to pierce my arm and back again.

  “It’s okay. My name’s Bob. I’m just going to see if I can stop the bleeding until the ambulance gets here.”

  He had a towel in his hand and began pressing it into my shoulder. My head swam and the room shifted as I fell back.

  “Whoa there, you don’t want to be laying down here. Not long now, you just keep looking at me.”

  He wrapped his arm around my back to keep me up. I winced in response as his arm scraped against shards of embedded glass along my arm. He tried to re-position himself on the glass covered floor, kicking away what he could. My fingers trembled as my body began to shiver against the cold. Ribbons of blood trickled from my fingertips, clotting on the sandy floor. My eyes grew heavy as I watched the red globs of sand spread beneath me.

  I tried to snap myself awake as the sound of sirens wailed in the distance. “The phone doesn’t work. I tried calling the police.”

  “No worries, we’ve called them. Now, what’s your name?” He was picking clumps of glass from my clothes as he spoke.

  I smiled up at Dorothy as she repeatedly swatted his hand away from my top.

  “Hey there, stay with me. What’s your name?”

  My stomach lurched as I realised he was trying to keep me awake. I must have been cut worse that I thought. “My name’s Roz.”

  “And you work here?” He threw a clump of glass through the window and it clattered across the debris.

  “Yes. Me and June work here. Dorothy’s our customer.” Without realising, I rested my head on his arm. I tried to look up to him, but the cold sting in my neck was relentless. My vision blurred and grew dark. “Can we move away from the window? It’s freezing.”

  “Here.” He reached toward Dorothy and she handed him her coat.

  He spread it over my chest delicately, like he was afraid I was going to break. It didn’t work. The cold felt like it was spreading through my insides, saturating me from within.

  “Did you know the men who ran away?” He asked.

  A jolt of electricity surged through me. “In the towels. I put my mobile in the towels to record them.” I pointed a shaking red arm toward the counter. A moment later it fell back to my side. The sound of crunching glass made my teeth clench. I waited for the wince of pain. It didn’t come.

  “Did you? I’ll be sure to grab it when you’re sorted.”

  I watched as he scanned the busy café, before lowering his head to mine.

  “You did a good job today, Roz. A better job than most. Tell me, what are your plans for the future?”

  My half open eyes tried to focus on his face. He watched me without looking away.

  “I don’t know. I wanted to go to uni, but none want me. Guess I’ll have to stay here.” I forced the final words from my lips as my body began to tremble.

  “You’re an intelligent woman, Roz. I think you’re the sort of person who isn’t afraid of taking risks. I think you’re the sort of person who will seize an opportunity and trust your instincts.”

  He watched
me intently, and then nodded, like I was supposed to understand what he was talking about.

  Through my slow blinking eyes, I saw four paramedics rush to the door. In pairs they carried two stretchers. The first pair didn’t get chance to get a foot in the room before a man lowered June and told them she was in shock. I listened for their footsteps retreating outside.

  “Shock?” I whispered, “is she okay?” I tried once again to sit up and realised I no longer had the strength. My clothes felt wet. “I need to go home.”

  I felt cool hands supporting my head as the paramedics scooped me from my rescuers arms. He nodded at me once again as my eyes finally closed.

  As the sound of the sea’s crashing waves drowned out the clatter of voices, the rumble of pebbles pulled me into a deep blue sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Two weeks had passed since I left the hospital. Mum and Dad flapped frantically every time I sneezed. It was fun at first, but now it was just annoying. I had what the doctor termed as lacerations, covering my back, arms, legs and feet. Luckily my face was unharmed as I protected it with my hands, but some areas of my body, like my arms and feet, needed a fair few stitches. I had needed blood too. That part was what made my parents frantic. You don’t need extra blood unless it was a major injury, Dad reminded me every time I tried to reach for the cereal box, or even go to the loo without help. That was what made me fight through the recovery. Yes, when I first got home I needed help to walk as my feet were so cut up. My fault for wearing flip-flops to work. But, having your Dad want to help you take a pee is never going to be appealing.

  I tried to divert attention as much as possible. I pointed to the latest news report we were watching on TV. A terrorist bomb had gone off in Bournemouth. In my attempt at humour, I joked, at least it wasn’t our sea side town. But, at that my Mum just freaked even more and mulled over all the things that could have happened. I finally managed to turn her attentions to cooking, by suggesting a family meal would make us all feel better. The family meal turned into a family feast. Every night. In the end, I invited Dorothy over to thank her for her bravery. She of course brought more food, in the form of trifle. There was no chance I was going to recover and still fit into my shorts.