The Devil Came to Abbeville

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The Devil Came to Abbeville Page 3

by Marian Phair


  “Watch your step Sal, they have harvested the corn early this year, and there’s lots of stubble around.” Two years older than Sally, ten year old Liam felt very grown up in comparison. He was Sally’s ‘eyes’ guiding her over the rough ground, to a small flattened area where they could sit down in relative comfort. Sally removed her jacket and Liam spread it out for her to sit on.

  From behind the dirty window pane of the tool shed, Percy Grimes watched the two children as they laughed and joked just yards away, unaware of his presence.

  “What’s this surprise then?” she asked. “Are you going to tell me, or make me guess?” Liam was always teasing her, giving her three guesses before telling her.

  “Okay, give me a chance,” he laughed. “My mum packed us some sandwiches, and I’ve got a bottle of pop so we can have a picnic.” He laid everything out on the ground and used the empty carrier bag to sit on. Then he carefully undid the food wrapper and removed a sandwich.

  “Here you go. Hold it with both hands so the filling doesn’t fall out,” he told her.

  “Yippee! I love picnics. What’s in the sandwiches, I’m starving?” She held her hands out towards the sound his voice came from.

  “Wait and see, when you take a bite you’ll know,” he teased. Sally took the sandwich he placed in her hands and bit into it, savouring the taste.

  “Yummy, cheese and tomato, my favourite, your mum knows what I like.”

  They sat munching on their sandwiches and laughing at Liam’s jokes as they ate. When they had finished eating, Liam put a disc into his personal CD player, and plugged in the headphones, and handed it to Sally.

  “You’ll love this disc. It’s the one I got for my birthday. It’s no good you asking who it is ‘cus I won’t tell yer, just listen.” He watched her as she fitted the headphones to her ears, and smiled as she started to sing along with the music.

  Liam felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he spun round to find Percy bending over him, holding a finger to his lips, signalling to Liam not to talk. He bent closer and whispered in Liam’s ear, “Do you want to play a trick on Sally?” Unafraid, Liam nodded his head, a grin on his face. Always the joker, he loved making Sally laugh, and it made his small chest fill with pride to know that he made her happy. Percy beckoned him with a finger.

  “Come with me, I have something in the shed over there.” Liam looked from Percy to Sally, who sat swaying to the music blaring in her ears and humming to herself.

  “Don’t worry about the girl, she will be okay, it will only take a minute or two, she will love this.” Liam didn’t need to be asked twice. The two made their way across the cornfield to the shed a few yards away, Percy leading the way. Liam took a swift look back to where Sally sat, still listening to music, before following Percy into the shed.

  Percy closed the shed door behind the boy, and could feel his heart beating faster with excitement. Such a handsome lad, with his dark curly hair and big green eyes. Percy had watched Liam playing with a few of the local lads as they kicked a ball back and forth between them. He had been captivated by Liam Findley from the moment he set eyes on him. Later that same day, he had come across the local boys, skinny-dipping, and he knew as he spied on them, watching the object of his desire, as he swam and played around with the other boys, what he must do! Now leading the boy across the dank smelling shed to the pile of empty Hessian sacks in the corner, he could barely contain himself.

  When his eyes had adjusted to the change of light, Liam looked around the smelly shed and couldn’t see anything but some farm tools and old sacks.

  “Where’s the surprise? What’s the trick we can play on Sally?” he asked the grinning Percy.

  “All in good time, lad. First let’s just sit on these old sacks for a minute, until I get my breath back. Come, sit beside me.” Percy sat down and patted the sacks.

  Liam shook his head. Something about the way Percy was looking at him sent a tiny shiver of fear through his body. He remembered too late what he had been told by his parents. ‘Keep away from Percy Grimes. He’s a little odd in the head.’

  “I’d better get back to Sally, she will wonder where I am, and I don’t see any tricks here I could play on her.” He turned and made for the door.

  Percy was beside him in an instant, placing himself between the door and the boy.

  He moved in closer on his prey. He was close enough now for Liam to smell the sweaty body before him. Percy’s thinning, grey hair, hung down in greasy locks to the shoulders of his dirty jacket. He reached out for the boy, and Liam felt Percy’s unshaven, grey bristles scratching across his face, as Percy tried to kiss him on the mouth.

  Liam struggled to get away, but Percy had an iron grip on him. Liam let out a yell, and before he could shout out again, Percy clamped a grimy hand over his mouth, and pulled him closer, locking Liam’s arms to his side so he could not lash out at him. Liam tried to bite at the hand that was covering his nose and mouth, and shutting off his air supply. He kicked out as hard as he could, and felt his foot connect with the leg of his attacker, who let out a cry of pain. He was held fast to the dirty body of Percy Grimes, and struggle as he might, he could not free himself from his assailant, and as the breath was slowly squeezed from his body, Liam’s last thoughts were of his young friend, Sally, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

  Sally sat oblivious to all that was going on around her, singing softly along with the music until the disc ended. Pulling the headphones from her ears, she reached out for her friend.

  “Here you go Liam, that’s well good. I love listening to ‘Shiekra’ she’s my favourite singer.” She got no response. The CD player and headphones remained in her outstretched hand. She reached with her other hand, searching for him.

  “Liam, I know you’re sitting here, stop messing around, take your CD player, or else!”

  She felt around, her hands finding only empty space. She couldn’t find her cane, and going onto all fours, she crawled forward a few feet, the stubs of corn scratching at her knees. Pausing for a moment, she held her breath and listened, expecting to hear the snigger of laughter, or his breathing. Nothing, no sound at all.

  “Liam, stop mucking about. It’s not funny, and I’m getting frightened.”

  The only sound around her came from the trilling of a bird. She turned and felt her way back to where her jacket lay, and slipped the portable CD player and headphones into the inside pocket. Feeling a sudden chill in the air, she put it on and zipped it up.

  Sally stood, and holding her arms out in front of her, she made a wide circle with her hands, still expecting to find her friend. Something flew into her face. Panicked, she slapped at it, and a dead butterfly fell to the ground. Really frightened now, she called out his name as she stumbled on. She hadn’t a clue where she was heading, or in which direction she had to go to get out of the field. Where was Liam? Why had he left her alone like this? Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over onto her pale cheeks. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew her mother or Liam’s would be worrying about them when they didn’t arrive home for tea. Someone would wonder where they were and come looking for them. She calmed a little at this thought.

  She sat down on the ground and made herself as comfortable as she could, and called out for help. She shouted out until her voice was hoarse, and her throat dry.

  No one came to her rescue.

  As the darkness of night closed around her, she felt a few splatters of rain on her face. With tears stinging her eyes, she quickly removed her jacket and put it over her head. Then tucking her knees up to her chest, she lay down on the hard ground and curled herself into a ball, wrapping the flaps of the jacket around her as best she could. Feeling the weight of Liam’s personal CD player against her ribs, she tried to call out his name, but only a croak escaped from her dry, hoarse throat. Terrified, she lay sobbing under her jacket, whilst overhead, a clap of thunder warned of the storm to come.

  CHAPTER 4

  When both Liam and Sally
failed to return home by five thirty p.m., neither Ruth, nor Liam’s parents were unduly concerned, as they often spent tea-time in each others’ homes. By seven thirty, Ruth was getting a little concerned, and decided to phone Mary Findley. Dialling Mary’s number, she sat doodling on the cover of the notepad where she kept all her contact numbers and addresses, while she waited for Mary to pick up at the other end. After several rings, she heard the receiver being picked up, and heard Mary’s voice in her ear.

  “Hello. Findley’s. How can I help you?”

  “Hi Mary, it’s me, Ruth. Are you bringing Sally home, or should I come and collect her? It’s getting close to her bedtime now, and if she doesn’t get good night’s sleep, she’s grumpy in the morning.”

  Ruth stopped doodling on the pad when Mary’s voice on the other end of the wire said, “I was just about to ring you. I thought Liam must be at the rectory with you.” Ruth’s heart missed a beat.

  “If they aren’t with you Mary, where are they? Where could they have got to at this time of night?” Ruth asked, panic creeping into her voice.

  “It’s pissing it down outside,” Mary told her. “Maybe they’re sheltering somewhere from the rain. I wouldn’t worry too much, Liam will take care of her, he’s a sensible boy, I’m sure they’ll be home soon. Give it another half an hour and if they aren’t back by then I’ll go and look for them.”

  The way Mary was talking, Ruth knew she was in a spaced-out state, and suspected Mary had been hitting the Valium tablets again.

  “Liam is only ten years old, how could he protect Sally if someone tried to harm her, he’s just a child himself. Aren’t you the least bit worried about your son? Have you forgotten already what happened to poor Emily Anderson? Her killer is still out there somewhere! I’m calling the police.” Before Mary could reply, Ruth hung up on her, and swiftly dialled the number for the police station.

  Detective Chief Inspector, Jake Fletcher, known affectionately by his colleagues as ‘Fletch,’ sat chatting to the duty officer, when the call came in.

  He and Ruth had been in the same class at school, and had got on really well together. Jake had always had a secrete crush on Ruth in their school years. They had even dated for a while, and he was devastated when she turned down his marriage proposal, choosing, Jack Ferguson, over him. Sally could have been his daughter if things had turned out differently. Over the years they had remained firm friends.

  “What have we got, Adam?” he enquired, as the officer flipped open a notepad.

  “Two children have gone missing, it seems. Mrs Ferguson reports her daughter, Sally, and young Liam Findley, went off to play together this afternoon, and they haven’t returned to their homes. She thought Sally was at the Findley’s, and visa versa.”

  Jake reached out his hand, taking the phone from the duty officer. Normally, a person reported missing would not warrant a search party going out to look for them until they had been missing for forty eight hours, but when it came to missing children, this was a different case altogether.

  “Ruth, it’s me, Jake. Try not to worry too much. I’ll bet they are sheltering somewhere out of the storm. I’ll send some officer’s out to look for them. I’m sure they’ll be found safe and well. Stay by the phone, I’ll ring you as soon as I have any news.” Hanging up the phone, Jake wasted no time in organising a search party.

  Father Patrick was in the study, which also served as his office. He was busy working his way through a pile of letters and magazines, sorting out the bills that needed paying, and putting them in a separate pile from the usual junk mail that arrived almost daily through the letter box. Ruth knocked on the heavy wooden panelling of the door, waiting for his, ‘come in,’ before entering the room. When she told him that the children were missing, he wasted no time in putting on his boots and a hooded waterproof jacket. Within minutes he had left the rectory heading for the police station to join the search party.

  Ruth paced up and down the hallway, praying for the phone to ring, and for Jake Fletcher to tell her the children had been found safe, and unharmed. The minutes ticked by, and the phone remained silent. She stopped pacing and went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, trying to calm her nerves by doing something else. As she filled the kettle, her eyes caught sight of her dirty, old Wellingtons standing on a sheet of newspaper beside the back door. She had left them there earlier when she came in from the garden, waiting for the mud to dry on them before cleaning it off. She knew she couldn’t just sit around waiting for news when her young daughter was out there somewhere in the dark, stormy night, probably terrified out of her wits by the thunder and lightening. Sally had always been frightened by thunder. When she was much younger, Ruth would find her hiding under her bed, or the dining room table, after the first clap of thunder reached her small ears. Ruth would sit with Sally on her knee, calming her down, and telling her that the noise she heard, was only God moving his furniture around in heaven.

  Dumping the kettle on the worktop, she went over to her Wellingtons, picked them up and banged them together, knocking the dried mud onto the newspaper, not stopping to clean up the dirt that had missed. Going over to the dresser in the corner, she rummaged in the drawers, looking for a flashlight. Under bits of scrap paper, tangled string and rubber bands, she found what she was looking for. She checked that it had batteries and was working. Wasting no more time, she took her raincoat off the coat rack, and put it on. Quickly pulling on her Wellington boots, and knotting a waterproof scarf over her head, she left by the back door.

  The wind and rain lashed at her face, forcing her to walk with her head bent. She had difficulty seeing where she was going, as she hurried along the street to Mary Findley’s. If any of the neighbours were harbouring the children they would have telephoned the rectory long ago, so she knew it would be useless going from door to door to look for them. Arriving at Mary’s house, she pressed the door bell, keeping her finger on the buzzer until she heard the sound of her approaching footsteps.

  Mary answered the door in her housecoat, her dark hair a tangled mass in need of a comb, a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth. She held a glass of wine in one hand, and the door open with the other, as she peered out into the darkness to where Ruth stood waiting impatiently.

  “Oh, it’s you, you’d better come in.” Mary moved out of the way, allowing Ruth to pass, and then closed the door behind her.

  “Why are you here?” she asked Ruth, leading her into the kitchen, and ignoring the wet footprints Ruth’s Wellingtons were leaving behind.

  “The police said we were to stay by the phone in case the children came home before the search party found them.” Mary spoke past the cigarette in her mouth, removing it only long enough to knock the ash off the end of it into the kitchen sink. Ruth noticed the open wine bottle on the kitchen table, and the over-full ashtray.

  John, Mary’s husband, was a long distance lorry driver, and was away from home most of the week, spending just the weekends with his wife and son, before hitting the roads again. Mary had been on Valium tablets since the sudden death of her mother six months before. They had always been close, more like sisters, than mother and daughter. Now Mary found she couldn’t get through the day without her tablets, unable to come to terms with her grief, and let go. Mary drank to fill in the lonely hours spent waiting for the weekend to come, and John’s return, when they could be a real family again for awhile.

  “You know better than to mix alcohol and medication Mary. Look at you, you’re all spaced out and unable to function properly.” Ruth scolded her. Mary’s response was to use one of John’s expressions.

  “If you’ve just come here to break my ball’s, you can piss off. Why are you here any way, dripping water all over my kitchen floor, you haven’t told me yet?” Mary stubbed her cigarette butt out in the sink.

  Without removing her hood or raincoat, Ruth pulled one of the wooden dining chairs away from the table and sat down before answering her.

  “I can’t just sit
and do nothing, knowing the children are out there in this storm somewhere. I’m worried sick for their safety. I just don’t know where to begin looking for them. Do you have any idea? Did Liam say anything to you before he left? Do you know where they like to play?” Mary held up a hand, interrupting Ruth’s flow.

  “Give me a chance to answer one question before you go babbling on to the next. You’ll do my head in.” She plunked down on the nearest chair.

  “No, Liam didn’t say where he was going. He told me Sally likes picnics and he wanted to give her a surprise to cheer her up because she has been down in the dumps lately. So I made them some cheese and tomato sandwiches, and gave him some money to buy a bottle of lemonade.”

  Mary reached for her wine glass, raised it to her lips, and took a large gulp of wine before continuing. “All Liam told me was he was going to take Sally to their ‘special place’ for the picnic, and before you ask, I have no idea where that is.” She set down her glass, and got up. “I’ll stick the kettle on and make us a cuppa.”

  “No thanks, forget the tea. Aren’t you worried about your son?” Ruth asked her.

  “How can you sit here so calmly Mary, what sort of mother are you?” Ruth couldn’t understand Mary’s reaction at all. She really didn’t know Mary well enough to know what made her tick, but guessed that Mary’s calmness, and laid back attitude, had something to do with the medication she was on.

  Mary’s face flushed with anger. “Of course I’m worried,” she snapped. “However, I believe in letting the police do their job, and I’ll wait here, as I’ve been instructed to do, in case the children do turn up here first.” Mary picked up the ashtray and emptied its contents into the waste bin beside the sink, then removed another cigarette from the packet and lit it, blowing out a cloud of smoke into Ruth’s face, almost choking her. Mary had one eye partially closed, the smoke from the cigarette dangling from her mouth was making her eyes smart.

  “I saw you sneaking a look at the wine bottle,” she told Ruth. “Well, if you look again, you’ll see I’ve only had one glass out of it. I’m not a piss-artist! This was a full packet of fag’s an hour ago, I’ve five left, and you have the bloody cheek to ask me if I’m worried!” Mary gave a snort of derision.

 

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