I Will Make You Pay (ARC)
Page 17
‘Is it still on? Tomorrow’s World? I don’t watch telly as much as I used to. Everyone mumbles.’ Ian is still staring
wide-eyed at the iPad.
‘No. I think they axed Tomorrow’s World a very long
time ago, Ian. But never mind that. I have a surprise for
you. Now, promise not to pass out on me. Brace yourself
for a nice surprise…’
Matthew clicks on his Skype icon and connects to
Jessie’s number. He’s already done a test run. She doesn’t
have a lot of cash, apparently, but she does have a smart-
phone. Discounted contract. It’s five in the morning where
she lives in Canada, but Jessie has been on the night shift
as a porter at the local hospital and has promised to be
standing by.
There’s the sound of the call connecting and there she
is. A large, smiley woman in a bright blue dressing gown.
Matthew adjusts the iPad so that it is pointing directly
towards Ian again.
‘Hi, Dad. Surprise!’
Ian is at first speechless. For a time he just stares in
shock at the screen as if witchcraft is being performed.
His daughter then blows him a kiss, her eyes watery. Ian
looks at Matthew, his own eyes unblinking, searching
for an explanation.
‘It’s a video call, Ian. It’s done through a special service
which is free once you have the kit. You can speak. Jessie
can see and hear you too. It’s not costing me anything so
go ahead. You can chat now…’
‘Jessie?’ He says this as if the image is some kind of
apparition.
‘Yes, Dad. Isn’t this great? I can’t believe it…’
‘How about I give you two a few minutes in private
and get myself a glass of water. You don’t need to touch
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anything, Ian. Just sit in front of the iPad and talk. Call
me if the signal gets funny and the picture freezes. That
happens sometimes. I can fix it.’
‘So – how are you, Dad?’ Jessie says. ‘I’ve just got in
from a shift, so I’m sorry I look so shattered. I’ll be going back to bed later.’
Matthew stands and moves into the kitchen as Ian
begins to speak. Slowly at first and then almost gabbling.
Waving too. Like someone who has just spotted a relative
in the distance.
* * *
Two hours later and Matthew is in a supermarket car park
to meet Melanie – no time for their usual café. He’s still
smiling inside, thinking about Ian, when Mel’s car pulls
up and she heaves herself out slowly.
‘Why’s your client going to London? We asked her to
stay close, Matt. I thought you said she was up for better
cooperation.’ Mel has her hand pressed into the base of
her back.
‘She is, Mel. She’s just going to stay with her sister
for the weekend. Good security there, apparently. Even
better than the Dorset pad. Look – she’s tired and she
needs a break. She’s on her mobile if you need her. And
she’s got a meeting for a story on Monday morning. Then
she’s back.’
‘Well, I’m not happy about this. Alice out of the patch
when we still have no idea where this Alex character is. I
don’t want to be liaising with the Met on this. You know
how I hate that.’ She’s watching shoppers across the car
park collecting trolleys from a bay covered in Perspex
like a bus shelter.
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Matthew doesn’t reply. Melanie is now leaning for-
ward on a railing and she closes her eyes, as if enjoying
the breeze on her face. He again takes in the huge bump
and remembers that Sal always felt too hot towards the
end of her pregnancy. He realises that Mel will get touchy
if he again voices his concern but he’s worried that she’s
pushing herself too hard. She’s clearly struggling.
‘What if he changes the pattern, Matt? What if it stops
being Wednesday?’
Matthew is struck by two things immediately. There’s
a new urgency and a deep-rooted concern in Mel’s voice.
She’s very worried about Alice and very worried about the
missing girl too. A good cop and a good person. Also, he
finds it uncanny that they still think so alike; it was just
the same when he and Mel worked together in the force.
He lets out a long sigh as Melanie opens her eyes and
turns to read his expression.
‘So it’s not just me. You’re worried this stalker could
change tack too, Matt.’
164
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Alice
Leanne’s car positively purrs. I stretch out my legs in the
huge passenger footwell and think of the contrast with
my own car – a noisy diesel. I should change it. Yes. Once
all of this is over, I will change my car. Come to think
of it, I will change a lot of things in my life.
It’s Friday and the traffic is bad. Stop, start. Stop, start.
The radio is tuned to a commercial station with a lot of
quizzes and caller interaction. Leanne likes this. I don’t.
I prefer music without all the incessant chit-chat and the
adverts, but I don’t want conflict with Leanne.
Every now and again I glance at my sister as she drives,
and try to find the right shape for my gratitude. Are all siblings like this? I wonder. The truth is I absolutely hate that I need Leanne to rescue me yet again.
I am remembering the journey back from Scotland
after the nightmare that was Alex. The tiny plane from
Inverness airport into Gatwick, then Leanne driving me
back to her London home. She had been married three,
maybe four years, and both children were very small.
Leanne and Jonathan had a live-in nanny to step up when
they travelled.
I remember quietly disapproving of Leanne having
childcare when she didn’t work. I feel guilty now for being
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so judgemental. What do I know about raising children?
And what would I have done without Leanne’s support?
Then – and now.
‘I do appreciate this, Leanne.’
‘I know. And I also know it’s practically killing you,
needing my help. Needing anyone’s help.’
I laugh and Leanne bumps the flat of her left hand
into my shoulder. ‘Hey. Do you remember that time you
broke your leg, Alice? How old were you?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Yeah. And you wouldn’t let anyone near to help you
with your crutches. You refused to have a bed set up for
you downstairs and you used to shuffle up and down the
stairs on your bottom.’
‘Christ. I’d forgotten that.’
‘Me and Mum haven’t. Absolute bloody nightmare.
One time you slipped and shot down the stairs so fast,
we thought you’d have to have the leg reset.’
I laugh and then wait for her to say it, and I promise
myself I will not retaliate today – because she’s right.
‘Our Little Miss Stubborn.’
I take out my phone to pass
the time and feel the new
sensation that marks every single new day as I gaze at the
home screen. Friday. Five days and counting; five days until I know what he’s going to do next.
I turn to look out of the window and feel suddenly
conscious of my breathing. Also my flesh. I am going to
use cheese wire on you.
Could they be right? Could it be Alex?
I just don’t see it myself. Too late, I realised that I never meant anything at all to Alex. I was part of his cover. His
cloak of respectability. He drew me into his world for one
reason only – so that he could reassure parents and schools
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and outsiders that he was happily engaged. A lovely man
with a lovely fiancée – ipso facto, safe with teenage girls.
I doubt he gave me a second thought after it all blew
up. He was furious at the police and the families and
media. In court he claimed he was in love with the girl
who ran away with him and that age was just a number.
He claimed he had been cruelly misjudged. How can I be
condemned for falling in love?
He never once mentioned me in court, so it just doesn’t
fit for me to imagine him stalking me now. Why would he
bother? Why would he care? And what would he achieve?
‘Do you really think it’s Alex, Leanne?’ I am surprised
to hear myself say this out loud.
She fidgets with her seat belt before answering. ‘I hon-
estly don’t know, but I think you’re wrong to so completely
discount the possibility. He’s had a long time in jail to
stew. Who knows what someone like that is capable of.
I just want to make sure you’re safe until they find him.’
‘What’s wrong with me, Leanne?’ A long sigh leaves
my body. I smooth the front of my sweatshirt.
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘Well, for all this to happen to me. To one person. It’s
ridiculous.’ I take a hairband from my pocket and pull
my hair up into a ponytail.
‘I agree that you’ve had more than your share of bad
luck. But you of all people should know from your job
that life doesn’t play fair when it hands out the drama.’
She turns up the radio and I take the hint, returning to
my phone.
I’ve bookmarked several pages on stalking. There’s
something still nagging at the back of my brain since talk-
ing to Jack. He’s so right. I really do badly want to write about this. It’s so frustrating having to keep it all inside.
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I flick from page to page – taking in once more all
the research I did soon after that very first phone call.
Most stalkers are not killers, apparently. But many
killers are stalkers first. Most victims know the stalker.
Many don’t report the stalking for fear of making the
situation worse. Many victims complain that the police
don’t do enough.
I put a new search into Google and find a link to a
charity reaching out to victims. It’s not popped up when
I’ve searched before and so I skim through its home page.
Its advice page. Its page of statistics. And then I find a page of case histories. There is the story of an actress sent foul messages when she was pregnant. The teacher hounded
by a former pupil. The nurse who really was the victim
of an acid attack. Page after page of horrible stories.
There are lots of quotes from victims and I devour
them, one after another. There’s this strange creeping
sensation as I recognise the very precise rollercoaster of
emotions they all describe. The sense of helplessness. The
constant looking over your shoulder. The anger. The
disappointment in yourself at being afraid…
Then I click through to the website’s blog page.
Which is when I suddenly have my idea. And I quietly
send the email that I do not realise in this moment is set
to make things worse for me.
168
CHAPTER THIRTY
Him – before
He is staring through the classroom window to the trees
beyond the playground. There is a huge bird flying in a
big circle. Round and round and round.
He wishes he knew more about birds. It looks like
some kind of eagle to him, but he once pointed out an
eagle to his gran and she said it wasn’t an eagle at all. It
was a red kite. He thought she meant a kite with strings and when he told her this, it made his gran laugh.
She knows loads about birds and all kinds of animals
too, from growing up on a farm. She doesn’t really like
towns and cities. Sometimes they take the bus out of town
and go for a walk and a picnic in the school holidays.
His gran always looks really happy on those days and he
wishes they could run away and live on a farm together.
Keep sheep and cows and goats instead of her stinky job.
He turns back to his reading book and traces his finger
across the page. He’s allowed more difficult books now
because he’s doing so well. Top of Red Group.
Miss Henderley comes over to his table and sits on
the corner.
‘Do we have any books on birds, Miss?’ He turns back
to the window and points to the huge bird which is still
circling. ‘I’d like to learn the names.’
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‘I think that’s a kestrel but I’m not sure. I’ll have a look
in the library and see what I can find for you. Everything
OK with you?’
‘Yes.’ A lie. But at least it’s Monday and so he’s not
tired. He won’t fall asleep in class; not today. The problem
is it’s only two more sleeps until his gran leaves him again.
Brian says that if he tells his gran their secret – about
the Lego and the favour – then Brian will have to tell
the police about his gran leaving him on his own on
Wednesday nights and she will be put in prison. Brian
says that old people can’t cope in prison and she’ll prob-
ably get sick and possibly die. So he mustn’t tell anyone
anything at all. Brian says the best and safest thing is for
Brian to pop round and keep him company every week
when his gran goes out at night. He will bring special
biscuits and also chocolate from Belgium, which he says
is the best kind in the world.
Thinking about Brian makes him want to punch
things and also to cry, so he pushes the backs of his hands
into his eyes.
‘What are you doing?’
He opens his eyes to see Andrew next to him staring.
Andrew repeats the question. ‘What are you doing with
your hands?’
‘I’m trying to see how dark I can make it with my
hands in my eyes.’
‘That’s weird. You’re weird.’
‘No, I’m not.’ He pushes Andrew in the shoulder but
Andrew starts to call to the teacher, who is back at her
desk now.
‘He pushed me, Miss. I didn’t do anything but he
pushed me.’
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‘Hey, hey. Both of
you calm down and get back to
your reading.’
* * *
Later, as he walks home from school with his gran, he asks a
lot of questions about birds. He’s decided that he would like to have a bird of prey and train it to kill Brian. Yes. He will teach it to swoop down and attack him. Then no one would
know who was to blame – they would think it was just a
bird gone a bit mad – and his gran would not go to prison.
‘Can we have a bird? Like a big eagle or something.’
‘Don’t be silly.’ His gran squeezes his hand as they
walk. ‘You can’t keep a big bird in a small place like ours.’
‘Some people have parrots. They’re quite big.’
‘It’s not the same. And anyway – I don’t like the idea
of birds in cages myself. They need to fly.’
‘Why did you have to leave the farm? Why can’t we
live on a farm?’
‘It was only a tenancy. It ran out of money.’
Money, money. Always money…
He looks back at the sky and wonders if he can train a
big bird secretly. In the park or something. He remembers
a programme on television that said birds of prey eat mice
and things like that. Maybe he could try to catch a mouse
and feed a bird in the park. Make it his pet and teach it
commands. Then he remembers that he’s not allowed to
play in the park on his own. He does not understand this.
How come he is not allowed to play out on his own but
he is allowed to be on his own on Wednesday nights?
He is thinking about this again at bath time.
‘I want my bath on my own again. I’m a big boy now.’
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His gran looks worried – just like she did the first time
he asked. Last Thursday. ‘I know you’re a big boy but I
need to make sure you don’t slip in the bath or anything.
It’s dangerous.’
‘We could leave the door a bit ajar again. But I want
to do it myself. Every time now.’
The truth is he wants to scrub his body hard. And he’s
worried that his gran will somehow know. That she will
look at his body and guess about the secret with Brian.
The favours. And if it all comes out she will have to go
to prison. And what if they make him live with Brian?
He looks at his gran once more. He thinks of the
biscuits she bakes on Sundays and of the stories she tells
about the farm. He thinks of the warm and lovely feel-
ing when she strokes his hair and he has to fight hard