The Darkness Within

by Cathy Glass

  ‘Yeah, one of ’em. The other three did the sensible thing and got pregnant so the council housed them. But that one is just fucking idle. Shane was me only son.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Elizabeth said, feeling she had to say something.

  ‘Well, shit happens, don’t it. But we weren’t close. In fact, I hadn’t seen ’im properly for years, although I didn’t tell the vicar that. He helped me with the collection.’ She paused and eyed Elizabeth carefully. ‘Perhaps you’d like to donate as your son got me boy’s heart? I mean you didn’t have to pay for it.’ She gave a guttural laugh.

  Elizabeth couldn’t believe what she was hearing and deeply regretted coming. She just wanted to get away, but fearful of how Tracy might react if she just turned and left she took a £10 note from her purse and handed it to her.

  ‘Make it twenty and we’ll call it quits,’ Tracy said without any embarrassment.

  Elizabeth took out another £10 note and gave it to her. ‘Goodbye.’ She turned and walked away.

  ‘Cheers love. Nice to meet you. If you want to know more about him visit the girl he shacked up with. God knows what the fuck she saw in him apart from his dick.’

  Trying to block out the awful woman’s words and laughter Elizabeth hurried down the path as Tracy’s front door slammed shut behind her. She got into the car and clutched the steering wheel, her hands knuckle-white. She stared straight ahead, her stomach churning. Why had she ever come? She was aware that people like Tracy existed but their paths rarely crossed with hers. Selfish, greedy, uncouth, without a decent bone in their bodies. She appeared to have no maternal feelings whatsoever and by the sound of it had sent all five of her children packing as soon as she could.

  What life experience had shaped her and made her what she was? Elizabeth couldn’t begin to guess. From what Tracy had said, Shane had been no better than his mother and indeed may have been a lot worse. Did this information help? Not one bit. For while it might have absolved her and Andrew of responsibility for Jacob’s behaviour, it left no clear solution. It wasn’t as though there was a vaccine that could reverse the effects of cellular memory. Now Elizabeth would have to come to terms with Tracy’s son’s heart living on in Jacob. And from what David had said, where cellular memory had occurred, the longer the organ was in the recipient’s body the more that person resembled the donor, like that girl in Brazil whose blood group had changed. The transplanted organ now seemed like a giant, malignant parasite that had infiltrated and taken over the host and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it.

  She wouldn’t be telling Andrew this but she needed to tell someone and there was only one person who would understand: David. Have just met donor’s mother. Wish I hadn’t! Definitely CMP. Thanks for your help. Liz x

  He replied almost immediately. I’m so sorry. Phone if you want to talk. David x

  Then before she drove away another text came through from him. She left the car’s engine running while she read it. Evidence suggests that where there is a strong presence of CMP there is a greater risk of organ rejection. So make sure your son attends all his check-ups.

  Just for a moment Elizabeth thought that possibly the organ being rejected wasn’t the worst-case scenario, then she caught herself. If Jacob’s heart was rejected there was nothing else the medical profession could offer and he would slowly die. She didn’t really want that, did she?

  Chapter Forty

  ‘Mary is being discharged from hospital tomorrow,’ Andrew said, as he and Elizabeth were having dinner.

  Elizabeth looked at him and nodded. ‘Good.’ She’d eaten very little and was toying with the rest of her food.

  ‘Sid’s wife is going to collect her and see her settled into the cottage. I said you’d look in.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Andrew paused from eating. He too seemed quiet this evening. ‘What isn’t such good news is that the police are going to interview all young men in the village.’

  ‘Why?’ Elizabeth asked, startled. ‘They must believe what Mary is telling them?’

  ‘Sid didn’t know any more than that. But Maggie has taken it badly, unsurprisingly. There aren’t that many lads in their twenties in the village and two of them are her sons. Sid reassured her it is procedure and that they have to eliminate all the young men in the village from their inquiries. He pointed out they’d be seeing Jacob too.’

  ‘Will they?’ Elizabeth asked, unable to hide her concern.

  ‘I’m assuming so. They can hardly not see him just because I’m a reverend.’

  ‘When will they want to see him?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve no idea of the date or time. Sid didn’t say. Why?’ He met her gaze.

  ‘Jacob’s not here often.’

  ‘No, so they’ll have to see him at his girlfriend’s flat. It’s not a problem, is it?’

  ‘I haven’t got her address,’ Elizabeth said defensively. ‘Just her mobile number.’

  ‘I suggest you find out her address quickly. It will look suspicious if the police come here looking for Jacob and we say we don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Will it?’ Elizabeth asked, the colour draining from her face.

  ‘Liz, it’ll be fine. Just phone the girl and get her address. Are you all right?’

  She managed a weak smile. ‘Yes, just a bit tired.’

  By the end of the week Elizabeth was starting to feel less anxious. She’d had a busy, productive few days going about the routine business that being a reverend’s wife entailed. This had included organizing activities and outings for their local women’s guild, charity fund-raising events, leading the Bible class, updating the rotas for looking after the church, and taking care of any other parish business Andrew asked her to. It helped being able to focus on matters apart from Jacob, although it didn’t take much for her to suddenly be transported back to that meeting with Tracy.

  She visited Mary on Wednesday, taking her some homemade soup and her new glasses. Mary was delighted to be home again and happy to see her. She’d stayed for over an hour during which time there’d been no mention of being robbed or a police inquiry, and the key remained under the mat. Elizabeth thought it was probably only a matter of time before Mary remembered what she’d done with the money, or that (more likely) she’d spent the little savings she had. Then the whole business would be put to rest.

  Now Jacob wasn’t living with them many of Elizabeth’s negative thoughts and feelings about him were starting to wane, replaced by more pleasant memories of the son she used to have, to the point where she’d managed to convince herself that he probably wasn’t as bad as she’d been thinking, and his relationship with Rosie was allowing him to sort out his life and turn a corner. She’d left him a voicemail message asking them both to come to dinner, and mentioning that the police were visiting all young men in the village to eliminate them from their inquiries, and as he wasn’t home very often could she give them Rosie’s address? Jacob didn’t return her call, which was a disappointment, so she’d telephoned Rosie and they’d had a pleasant chat. She explained about the inquiry and Rosie had given her her address without any hesitation. Jacob had forgotten to mention the invitation to dinner so Elizabeth repeated it.

  ‘Saturday or Sunday, any weekend. Let me know what suits you best.’ Rosie thanked her and said she’d phone or text as soon as she’d spoken to Jacob.

  ‘He’s not there then?’ Elizabeth asked.

  ‘He’s just popped out. He won’t be long.’ She omitted to say for a joint as Jacob had told her it now worried his mother.

  ‘OK. See you soon, love.’

  Yes, Rosie was a lovely girl who was clearly doing Jacob a power of good. Furthermore, Elizabeth was now starting to wonder if Shane really had been the bad boy his mother had made him out to be. More likely it was Tracy who was bad. Having witnessed the way she’d treated her teenage daughter – swearing at her and throwing her out on the streets – it put a different interpretation on what she’d said about Shan
e. Elizabeth wondered what Shane’s girlfriend would say about him if asked. She probably had a very different opinion having lived with him. Elizabeth was trying to take the view that Shane had been rejected and probably abused by his mother, had then unsurprisingly got into trouble as a lad, but had gone on to make good, and was in a committed relationship when he’d died. Tracy had said he was ‘shacked up with a girl’.

  Elizabeth thought that she’d like to talk to the girl, who would probably confirm what she now believed. She checked the newspaper articles online again for any mention of Shane’s partner or girlfriend, but either she’d declined to be interviewed (unlike Tracy who’d relished the media exposure) or the press hadn’t been aware of her. The only way to identify her and find out where she lived would be to go back to Tracy and ask her. Elizabeth recoiled at the thought. Then as she was vacuuming the living room on Saturday afternoon she realized there was another way she could contact Tracy: message her through Facebook.

  She switched off the vacuum cleaner and sat down in one of the fireside chairs to log in to Facebook through her phone. Tracy’s privacy settings were on the minimum so there was no problem in sending her a direct message. After much thought and many attempts at getting the wording right she sent: Dear Tracy. I hope you are well. Thank you for talking to me last week. I’d like to speak to Shane’s girlfriend to learn more about him. Could you send me her contact details? Kind regards, Elizabeth.

  It was possible Tracy didn’t know where the girl lived, but even with just her name Elizabeth should be able to find her on the internet. Most young people had an online presence. Having logged off from Facebook she sent a text message to Rosie reminding her about the invitation to dinner.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Jacob entered the block of flats, stepping over the pile of local newspapers and circulars dumped in the hall by the newspaper delivery lad who was too lazy to deliver them to each flat. Usually, and like most residents, he left them there for someone else to deal with, and the pile grew until eventually someone chucked the lot in the bin and the pile started again. But today the headline caught his eye. He picked up a copy that hadn’t been trodden on and stood in the lobby reading it.

  YOUNG MAN VICIOUSLY ATTACKED

  A young man was repeatedly kicked in the face and head and run over by a car during a sustained and vicious attack at the disused depot by a group of two or more assailants. Oliver Cambridge, 22, also known as Chez to his friends, was found on Monday by a group of council workmen. He has sustained life-threatening injuries and is now in a coma at the Royal Infirmary. Detectives are trying to establish a motive for the beating, which they believe happened at around midnight on Friday. They are appealing for anyone who may have information to come forward. His mother, a solicitor, has been continuously by his bedside.

  Detective Constable Pamela Small said: ‘At this time we have not established a motive for this attack and I am appealing to anyone who might have witnessed the incident to contact the police immediately. I’m particularly anxious to speak to any who may have been in the vicinity at the time the pubs closed and may have seen the attackers running away.’ Anyone with information is asked to contact the police on …

  Jacob looked up, a smile hovering on his lips. Oliver Cambridge, what a posh name and his mother a solicitor! Well, well. Who would have thought it? The little skunk hadn’t been dragged up in the gutter but had been given a chance of a decent life and had thrown it away. What had happened served him right. He had it coming to him. What an embarrassment he must have been to his mother. Jacob had probably done her a favour getting rid of him. But hold on, just a minute, he was getting ahead of himself. He hadn’t got rid of him completely. The article said he was in a coma with life-threatening injuries. What were the chances of him waking up and telling the police who was responsible? Shit! He looked at the date on the newspaper – last Thursday – then chucked it on the floor with the others. Perhaps there was more news since the paper went to press. He remained in the lobby and Googled: man attacked in disused depot. A number of links came up and clicking on the first he read: Oliver Cambridge, 22, died yesterday, a week after being viciously attacked by two or more assailants at the council’s disused depot. Police are appealing …

  Relieved, and with his smile spreading, Jacob pocketed his phone, not bothering to read the rest of the article, and headed up the stairs two at a time to the flat.

  ‘Your mother has texted again about dinner,’ Rosie said as he let himself in.

  She obviously wanted to go and he was in a good mood. ‘OK. Next weekend.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Anything for you.’

  She eagerly picked up her phone. ‘Saturday or Sunday?’

  ‘Saturday or we’ll have to go to church with them on Sunday.’

  ‘I don’t mind going,’ Rosie said animatedly.

  ‘I do.’ He flopped on the sofa beside her.

  ‘And my mother wants to meet you,’ she said, as she texted a reply to Elizabeth. ‘So I’ve suggested she pop in later.’

  ‘Tonight?’ Jacob asked, unable to hide his irritation.

  ‘Yes.’ She looked at him seriously. ‘Jacob, I know you were angry with me about giving your mother this address, but my mother is always welcome here.’

  He shrugged. ‘OK. I’ll meet her, but not for too long. And before she arrives I’ve got time to give you a good shag.’ He pulled her on top of him and, unzipping her jeans, roughly pulled them off.

  At the Rectory Elizabeth had just taken a call from Maggie and she was worried.

  ‘The police are on their way here,’ she said anxiously to Andrew. ‘They’ve just left Maggie’s.’

  Andrew glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Saturday evening. Must be overtime,’ he replied cynically.

  ‘They arrived at Maggie’s without any warning. She was about to serve dinner. They said early evening is a good time to find young people in before they go out.’

  ‘I suppose that makes sense.’

  ‘Maggie said they asked her lads where they were on the night of the break-in. But they’ve also told the boys to go into the police station to be fingerprinted.’ Her stomach had tightened to a knot.

  ‘Why?’ Andrew asked, shifting in his chair. Mitsy looked up from where she lay on the floor beside him.

  ‘So they can be completely eliminated from their inquiries I suppose.’

  ‘All right. So we’ll just tell them Jacob is living with his girlfriend and give them her address. If they’d phoned us we could have saved them a wasted visit.’

  ‘Do you think it’s as simple as that?’ she asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.

  ‘Yes. Why shouldn’t it be?’

  Elizabeth began plumping the cushions and giving the living room a quick tidy as a displacement for what she was thinking and feeling. Her mouth was dry and her pulse raced. She needed to calm down. There was nothing to worry about. Jacob hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d invite the officers in, offer them a coffee, and explain he wasn’t here. They might not even want to come in or see him.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  ‘The reverend’s kid in my school was a right hell-raiser,’ DC Evans said as they pulled into Rectory Lane. ‘I went to his house a few times, my parents knew his. He was like Jekyll and Hyde. As good as gold when his parents were there but away from them all hell ripped loose. You name it, he did it. Much to the embarrassment of his father he even spent a spell in care. I suppose that’s what happens when the reins are too tight, you buck against them.’

  ‘You’re very philosophical tonight,’ PC Mandy Taylor quipped as she parked the unmarked police car outside the rectory. ‘But from what we know Jacob is squeaky clean, and of course he’s been very ill.’

  Evans nodded. ‘We’ll see. It might turn out it isn’t a lad after all. It’s only Mary’s word and at ninety-two everyone under sixty appears young. She thought I was in my twenties.’ They both laughed as they got out of the car.


  Evans led the way up the path and pressed the doorbell. It was a pleasantly warm evening and still light, but it was the end of a very long day. A fourteen-hour shift and he was looking forward to going home. ‘Soon be finished,’ he said, more for his benefit than Mandy’s. She was in her twenties and ran on unlimited adrenalin.

  The front door was opened by a woman Evans took to be the Reverend’s wife. She had a dog at her side. ‘Mrs Wilson?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good evening. I’m DC Charlie Evans and this is my colleague PC Mandy Taylor. I think you’re probably expecting us.’ He knew how news travelled through these villages so someone was sure to have told her they were on their way.

  ‘Yes, come in,’ Elizabeth said, opening the door wider. ‘Come through and have a seat.’

  ‘Thank you. I assume you know why we’re here? The inquiry into the burglary at Acorn Cottage.’

  ‘Yes. This is my husband, Andrew,’ she said as the entered the living room. The dog went over to him.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Andrew said, standing and shaking their hands.

  ‘And you, sir,’ Evans said.

  ‘But I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted trip. My son isn’t here.’

  A little abrupt, Evans thought, but smiled convivially. ‘May we sit down?’

  ‘Yes of course,’ Elizabeth flustered; she was forgetting her manners. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’

  ‘No thank you. We won’t keep you long,’ Evans said for them both.

  As they sat on the sofa Elizabeth took an easy chair and Andrew swivelled his armchair round so they were all facing each other. The PC took out a notepad and pen.

  ‘Would you like my son’s address?’ Elizabeth asked, trying to be helpful. ‘He stays with his girlfriend much of the time.’

  ‘Yes, please,’ Evans said.

  Elizabeth picked up her address book from the coffee table and in a steady voice slowly read out the address of Rosie’s flat as the PC wrote it down.