by S J Bolton
She’d read them already, of course, before her first appointment with the girl. Was there anything she’d missed?
‘He’s a cheating bastard,’ Gillian had said. ‘My stepdad was the same’ More than once now, Gillian had become edgy on the subject of the men in her life. Several aspects of the girl’s character – her cynicism about men and sex, her sense of being a victim, a sort of unspoken belief that the world owed her something – were all making Evi suspect there was some history of abuse in Gillian’s past.
Evi scrolled back to the early records, when Gillian had been a child. She’d had the usual immunizations, chickenpox as a three-year-old. She’d visited her GP shortly after her father’s accidental death, but no medication or follow-up treatment had been prescribed.
At the age of nine, Gillian had started to attend a different surgery in Blackburn. The change probably coincided with her mother’s remarriage and the family’s moving away from Heptonclough. Gillian’s visits to the GP at that time had increased in frequency. She’d complained often of unspecified tummy aches, causing her to miss several days of school, but investigations had found nothing wrong. There had also been a series of minor injuries a broken wrist, bruising, etc. It could indicate abuse. Or it could just suggest a lively, accident-prone child.
When Gillian was thirteen, she and her mother had moved back to Heptonclough. Gillian had been prescribed the contraceptive pill at a very early age – a couple of months short of her fifteenth birthday – and had had a pregnancy terminated at the age of seventeen. Not an ideal scenario, but neither was it untypical for a modern teenager.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, she had plenty of other patients. Evi stood up again. She glanced towards the bathroom. The door was open and she could see the cabinet.
It was completely dark outside. Would there be dancing up in Heptonclough right now? Evi hadn’t danced in three years. Probably never would again.
24
‘WE HAVE TO MOVE THE CUSHIONS,’ TOM URGED HIS brother. ‘Help me push them.’ On their hands and knees, he and Joe began to slide the hassocks along the floor. But they didn’t move smoothly across the uneven flags; as they hit bumps and nicks in the stonework, they separated.
‘Keep them together,’ yelled Tom, not daring to look up, as he and Joe frantically tried to push the hassocks back into place. He had no idea whether they were under Millie or not, he simply didn’t dare look up because he knew if he did he’d see his sister’s body hurtling towards him.
‘’Ow the fuck did she get up there?’ said a voice from across the church. Tom glanced up to see that Jake Knowles and Billy Aspin had silently entered the building. Both were staring up at the vicar and the toddler in fascination.
Harry was getting closer to Millie, who was still clinging to the balcony rail. Something hit Tom in the face and he looked round to see Jake and Billy in the third pew down, collecting hassocks and throwing them at him.
‘You’re miles out, dickhead,’ called Jake, his eyes fixed on Tom’s but his pointed finger switching from the balcony to the floor. ‘Six inches that way.’
He was right. Tom began pushing the cushions to the left, as Joe worked hard to keep them together. They were joined by Billy, who started to double them up, while Jake carried on throwing them like missiles through the air.
Then he heard a thumping noise above him and caught the scream before it left his mouth. Billy, Jake and Joe were all looking up. Harry was in the gallery, talking softly to Millie as he made his way slowly towards her. He was about five strides away… four… three… Tom held his breath. Harry reached out. Tom closed his eyes.
‘He’s got her,’ said Jake. Tom exhaled as his eyes opened. There was no dead sister, bleeding on the stone floor in front of him. It was over. Jake was looking at the hassocks, scattered over the tiles.
‘Suppose we have to put this lot back now,’ he said.
‘Boys.’ It was Harry’s voice, coming from above them, sounding like he’d just run a race. ‘Millie and I can’t get down until we find the key for this door. Can someone look in the vestry?’
For a moment, Tom couldn’t remember where the vestry was. At the front of the church, he thought. He turned and stopped dead. Blinked and looked again. Nothing there. But for a second he’d been sure. To one side of the organ, her thin body pressed against the pipes, someone had been watching them. A little girl.
25
T HEY WERE LEAVING THE CHURCHYARD: THE MAN WHO seemed to be in charge of the church now and Millie’s two brothers. And the mother too; not Millie’s mother, she was still running round the family’s garden, shouting and making a huge fuss. No, this was the other mother, the one who’d appeared from nowhere just as the children and the man had left the church. She was carrying Millie in her arms as they turned down the hill.
Millie’s parents had seen them. They were running towards the group. Everyone was talking at once, looking at Millie, patting her head, hugging her close. They’d been scared, had thought they’d lost her. They’d take better care of her now. For a while.
26
2 October
‘AT FIRST, FOR A FEW MINUTES, IT WASLIKEI WASBACKIN the old nightmare again, do you know what I mean? My little girl was lost and I had to find her. I had to go out and walk the moors, calling and calling, until I found her.’
‘It’s OK, Gillian, take your time. Give yourself a minute.’
‘I couldn’t think properly. I just wanted to scream.’
‘I understand,’ said Evi. ‘It must have been dreadful for everyone, but especially for you.’ Yet another search on the moors for Gillian: first Megan, then Hayley, now this latest – Millie, was she called?
‘It was,’ said Gillian.
‘Take your time,’ Evi said again. Should she mention the search for Megan? She hadn’t heard back from her supervisor yet.
‘But then it was like someone flicked a switch and I could see clearly again. The worst had already happened to me. I had nothing to be afraid of, so I was in the best position to help. I know all the hiding places around the town. I’ve been checking them all just about every day for nearly three years and I knew I had the best chance of finding her.’
Gillian had been out shopping since Evi had last seen her. She was wearing black trousers that looked new and a tight black sweater. Her skin was improving all the time.
‘We’ve plenty of time, Gillian,’ she said. ‘Forty minutes before we have to stop. Do you want to tell me what you did?’
‘I went out looking,’ answered Gillian. ‘On my own, in the dark, because I’m used to that. I walked along Wite Lane, past our old house, up through the fields towards the Tor. Then I came back again because I saw lights on in the church.’
‘That shows great strength of character,’ said Evi. ‘That you were able to take part in the search, after everything you’ve been through.’
Gillian was nodding, still excited. ‘And it felt really good, you know, when I saw Alice and Gareth and I had Millie in my arms. They were so grateful and-’
‘You found the little girl?’
‘Yes – well no – not exactly. I found all four of them, coming out of the church. They were all in a bit of a state. Tom was arguing with his brother about something to do with little girls. I took Millie off Tom because I was worried he was going to drop her. I didn’t notice Harry at first. He was leaning against a wall and in his black clothes he was pretty hard to see.’
Evi picked up her water glass from the desk and realized she wasn’t thirsty. She kept it in her hand, swirling the water around. ‘And the little girl had just wandered off?’ she asked.
‘To be honest, no one’s sure what happened. Millie’s too young to tell us. The official line is that she followed some bigger children out of the party and then found she couldn’t keep up.’
The glass was distracting Gillian. Evi made herself put it down. There was a paperclip on the desk. If she picked that up she’d start twisting it in her fingers. It would be
another distraction.
‘And the unofficial line?’ asked Evi, finding herself curious.
‘The family have had a few run-ins with a local gang,’ replied Gillian. ‘Who were hanging round while it happened, apparently. The Fletchers think perhaps they took Millie, maybe as a joke, and then it all went wrong. The police have been up but none of the boys has admitted anything. Everyone’s just glad it ended the way it did.’
‘And this was past nine o’clock?’ Evi asked. ‘Quite late for a little one to be up, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh, all the kids stay up late for the Cutting. It’s tradition.’
‘The Cutting?’
‘That’s what they call it. It’s an old farming thing. Then a party. Everyone’s invited. I was never that keen, to be honest, especially after Pete left. But then, when Harry asked me if I was going to be there, I thought, why not? Except then I was in this big panic about what I was going to wear. Not that it was a date or anything, but he had made a point of asking me if I was going to be there and… what’s the matter? What have I said?’
The paperclip was in Evi’s fingers after all. She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘Nothing, I’m sorry,’ she said, putting the twisted piece of metal back on the desk. ‘You’re in a very upbeat mood today. I can’t quite keep up. Carry on.’
‘So I decided to wear the cropped trousers in the end. With the yellow sweater I got in Tesco, only it doesn’t look like something you’d buy from Tesco, it looks sort of classy, really. I can’t remember the last time I bought new clothes. It’s a good sign, isn’t it, wanting to buy new clothes, to look nice again?’
Silence.
‘Isn’t it?’ Gillian repeated.
Evi nodded. Was she still smiling? Just about. ‘It’s a very good sign,’ she agreed.
It was an extremely good sign, wanting to look nice again. A long, floaty skirt almost to her ankles, a tight red top that would have shown off her shoulders, and a lavender pashmina in case the evening became chilly; that’s what she’d been planning to wear.
‘And how did you cope with the party afterwards?’ she asked. ‘There would have been alcohol, I’m guessing. Were you tempted?’
Gillian thought for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘There was so much going on. A lot of people wanted to talk to me, ask me how I was getting on. Jenny was sweet. Jenny Pickup, I mean – used to be Jenny Renshaw. I used to nanny for her years ago and then she was Hayley’s godmother. And Harry was around a lot. Course, I didn’t take too much notice of him at the party. You know how people talk.’
‘Was it a late night?’ Evi had imagined a late night, being driven home in that open-topped car. The night had been warm when she’d gone out into the garden just before eleven. There had been stars.
‘It all finished not long after we found Millie,’ Gillian said. ‘The Fletcher family went home and then the rest of us went back to the Renshaws’, but the band had stopped and people were starting to clear up. Odd really, because in the old days the parties could go on well into the night.’
‘Did you go home?’
Gillian shook her head. ‘No, I went with Harry.’
Evi reached out and lifted her glass. She put it to her lips, then licked the moisture off them. The glass went back down.
‘With Harry?’ she said. ‘Harry the vicar?’
‘I know, I know.’ Gillian was almost chuckling. ‘I’m still not used to the vicar bit myself. But when he took that stupid dress thing off he didn’t look like a vicar at all. He was standing outside when I left and I just had a feeling he’d been waiting for me.’
‘Did he say that?’
‘Well, he wouldn’t, would he? I think he might be a bit shy. So I asked him if he wanted to come back to the flat for a coffee.’
Evi’s hand was on the glass again. ‘What did he say?’
‘Well, I was sure he was going to say yes but then some people came round the corner, so he said he had to make sure the church was locked up and he walked off up the hill. Course, I knew he wanted me to follow him so I waited a few minutes and then I went up too.’
‘Gillian…’
‘What?’
‘Well, it’s just… vicars have a certain code of conduct.’
Blank look on Gillian’s face.
‘A certain way they have to behave,’ Evi tried again, ‘and inviting a young woman he hardly knows up to a church at night… well, it doesn’t feel too responsible to me. Are you sure that’s what he wanted?’
Gillian shrugged. ‘Men are men,’ she said. ‘He might wear a dog collar but he’s still got a prick in his pants.’
Evi picked up the glass again. It was empty.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Evi, when she trusted her voice again. ‘You probably think I’m prying. If you don’t feel ready to talk about this, that’s fine. Are you still sleeping well?’
‘You think a vicar wouldn’t be interested in someone like me?’ Gillian asked. The lines on her face seemed to have hardened. The lipstick she’d chosen looked too dark for her.
‘No, that’s not what I meant at all.’
‘So why did he kiss me?’
Evi took a deep breath. ‘Gillian, my only concern is whether you’re ready to get involved again. Emotionally, you’ve been very badly damaged.’
He’d kissed her?
The girl had shrunk into her chair again. She didn’t seem able to look at Evi any more.
‘Do you really like him?’ Evi asked softly.
Gillian nodded without looking up. ‘It sounds stupid,’ she said, speaking to the rug at her feet, ‘because I hardly know him, but it’s like I care about him. When I went in the church he was just sitting in the front pew. I went and sat down next to him and put my hand on his. He didn’t pull his away. He said he was sorry about what had happened, that it must have been dreadful for me, after what I’d been through.’
‘Sounds like it was pretty grim for everyone,’ said Evi. Ten minutes before the end of the session. A tiny amount of time in the greater scheme of things. And yet too long to carry a picture in her head of Harry and this girl, in a dimly lit church, holding hands.
‘It was like we had such a connection,’ Gillian was saying. ‘I felt I could say anything. So I asked him what I’d wanted to the first time I met him. How could God let bad things happen to innocent people, like Hayley? And almost to Millie. If He’s all powerful, the way people say, why do these things happen?’
And me, thought Evi. What part of the great plan made me a cripple? What part of the plan whisked Harry away from me just when… less than ten minutes to go.
‘What did he say?’ she asked.
‘He started quoting this prayer at me. He does that a lot, I’ve noticed. Incredible memory. Something about Jesus not having any hands or feet…’
‘No hands but ours,’ said Evi, after a moment.
‘That’s it. Do you know it?’
‘I was brought up a Catholic,’ said Evi. ‘That prayer was written by St Teresa in the sixteenth century. “Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours.” It means that everything that happens here on earth – all the good things, all the bad things too – are down to us.’
‘Yes, that’s what Harry said,’ replied Gillian. ‘He said it’s up to us now. He said God had a great plan, he was sure of it, but that it was a plan in outline and that it was up to us to fill in the details.’
‘He sounds quite wise, this Harry of yours,’ said Evi. So ridiculous. She’d only met him twice. There was no reason, really, for her stomach to feel like lead.
‘I think so,’ said Gillian. ‘I’m going to church on Sunday. First time in years.’
Gillian turned suddenly and looked at the clock on the wall. ‘I have to go,’ she announced. ‘I said I’d meet him at noon. I’m helping decorate the church. Thank you, Evi, I’ll see you next week.’
Gillian got up and left the room. There were still eight minutes of her ap
pointment left to run but it seemed she didn’t need Evi any more. And why would she? She had Harry.
27
‘T HE ASSISTANT REFEREE RAISES THEBOARD AND THERE ’ S only three minutes of injury time to play in this crucial top-of-the-table clash. The ball goes to Brown… he turns, passes to young Ewood debutante Fletcher… Fletcher, still Fletcher… a little look up… Green’s in space… I think Fletcher’s going all the way… GOAL!’
Giving the supporters a modest wave, Tom jogged back to the centre of the pitch for the final kick-off. Less than a minute of injury time to go and victory, as they say, was in the bag. Then one of the other players turned to him.
‘Tommy,’ he whispered.
Tom was awake in an instant. No longer the new star striker, leading his favourite football team to victory. Just ten-year-old Tom Fletcher, lying in bed in the middle of the night. With a big problem on his hands.
Outside, the wind was racing up the moor. Tom could hear it whistling through alleyways, making windows tremble in their frames. He lay, not daring to move, with the quilt pulled up around his ears; he was used to the wind by now. In the radiator pipes he could hear the odd gurgle as the house settled down for the night. He was used to that too. From two feet below he could hear the soft ticking of Joe’s breathing. Everything normal.
Except that someone else was in the bedroom with him and Joe. Someone at the end of his bed, who had just tugged at his quilt.
Completely awake now, Tom didn’t dare move. The tugging could have been part of his dream, he just had to stay still, make sure it didn’t happen again. He waited for ten, twenty seconds and realized he was holding his breath. As quietly as he could, he let it out. A fraction of a second later, someone else breathed in.
