by Jody Medland
‘K-Kistian,’ said Reuben, nudging Christian back into reality.
‘I’m sorry. What?’ he asked.
‘Strength eleven,’ said Reuben, as he monitored Christian’s response.
Christian looked down at his card again. The panther had fourteen strength points, but he hunched his shoulders forward, feigning dejection.
‘You trumped me!’ he lied, leading Reuben to raise his fists in triumph.
Amanda clapped and cheered.
‘Well played,’ said Christian. ‘Put them back in the box now,’ he instructed, slipping his card within the pack so it could not be detected.
‘Can we play again?’ asked Reuben, hopefully.
‘You can if Amanda doesn’t mind. I need to go and get David,’ he announced.
To these words, Reuben looked instantly panicked.
‘You’re letting D-D-David out?’ he asked, clearly worried.
Amanda noticed that Reuben was ill at ease.
‘Yes, Reuben. He can come and play with all of us,’ she offered, in an attempt to calm him down.
‘I don’t wanna p-play with him!’ insisted Reuben, who folded his arms and sat sulking on the grass.
From what Amanda had witnessed, it wasn’t like Reuben to act in such a way. Christian approached Amanda and spoke under his breath.
‘Don’t underestimate the boy, Amanda. I mean it,’ he warned. ‘David may be young but he’s very sick and incredibly dangerous. Now, are you sure you want me to bring him out here?’
Amanda took only a moment to consider the question.
‘I don’t want to live in a world where people can’t change. Do you?’ she replied.
Christian fell silent for a moment.
‘Well… a promise is a promise. I’ll go and get him,’ was all he said of the matter.
Christian disappeared back into the house with purpose and Amanda took a moment to absorb the land around her. It had been the only day during her stay that the sky was blue and free from clouds. In the golden glow of sunlight, the setting was truly idyllic. The people in the home were most certainly quirky, but she had grown to love much about them and despite initially finding the place rather creepy, she had finally given in to its charm. Sure, if she were to run a care home it would be fundamentally very different, but she already knew she didn’t have the temperament for such a lifestyle and anybody who did deserved to be applauded.
Amanda started up another game of top trumps and as she ran things through in her mind, she knew her work within the home was almost complete. All she had to do was see David – now the only person in the home she had yet to meet – and then she could form a full opinion of the home and get back to living her own life; a new life, with her family in waiting.
It was the final straight and the end was in sight. After all, Margaret had recently warned her how dangerous Ellie was and they soon managed to develop a bond. Therefore, how bad could David really be?
As the front door of the house swung open with force, she was about to find out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Tip-off
Monday 14th February, 1972
‘Get off me, you fucker!’ yelled David, at the top of his lungs, the echoes of his voice alerting and disturbing each of the children in the yard as he kicked and screamed, trying his best to hurt Christian. Eventually, one of the blows landed as he struck the homeowner hard on the lip. Suddenly, the air around Christian turned blue and even David fell silent, perhaps realising he had gone too far. Christian put his hand to his lip and pulled it away, revealing the boy had drawn blood. David was stocky but had a youthful face. Amanda guessed he would be around 15 years old, but was powerful for his age and the blow he landed would certainly have hurt. Angered, Christian stepped towards him and grabbed his shoulders firmly.
‘What have I told you about your language?’ he shouted, as he threw the boy forcefully to the ground.
Gordon covered his ears.
Georgina lowered her head in a vain attempt to block out the commotion.
Walter folded his paper, placing it on his seat as he stood. It was clear he expected to be needed.
Reuben cowered behind Amanda.
‘It’s okay,’ Amanda assured him.
‘N-n-no, it’s not,’ replied the boy, his voice trembling.
David leapt back up to his feet and Christian once again stepped towards him.
‘Say sorry, now,’ Christian demanded.
David did not. Instead, he spat in Christian’s face.
‘Fuck you!’ he yelled, rebelliously, before turning and running full speed down the hill.
‘Get back here!’ Christian screamed, but the boy had no intentions of stopping.
David fixed his eyes on Amanda and sprinted towards her, veering around Walter, who unsuccessfully attempted to block him. As he drew closer to Amanda, she walked away from Reuben, observing the look of pure hatred that covered David’s face as he shot towards her like a bullet.
‘Slow dow—’
David launched himself at Amanda, knocking her to the ground before raining down with his fists.
‘No. L-l-leave her alone!’ yelled Reuben in helpless defence.
David took no notice and chose instead to focus on the bodily attack of his new enemy, aiming to cause as much damage as he could before Christian and Walter reached them.
‘You’ll never hurt me,’ he yelled. ‘I won’t let you!’
David hit Amanda harder and harder, his rage forever growing.
‘What are you doing?’ Amanda yelled, attempting to block his punches with her flailing arms.
Still, he hit her, his great power and speed defying his young body. Amanda managed to take the punishment, but when he landed a solid blow to her stomach, she panicked.
The baby!
In a blind fury, Amanda unleashed one almighty strike across David’s face, knocking him backwards onto the ground where he held his head and rolled around, crying in pain. Christian pulled him up by his collar, unsympathetic of his wound.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Walter as he placed his hand on Amanda’s shoulder, struggling to find his own breath.
‘I… I couldn’t get him off me,’ Amanda muttered in mild shock.
She looked to the top of the yard where both Karen and Margaret had emerged to witness the scuffle. Margaret looked every bit as mortified as Amanda felt. Karen, by contrast, stood in utter glee.
‘I guess we can forget about those trips into town,’ scoffed Karen.
‘I couldn’t get him off me,’ Amanda repeated, as though trying to justify what she had done – to herself above anyone else.
‘Leave me alone. Leave me alone!’ screeched David as Christian dragged him back up the hill.
‘You must really like that room, boy!’ Christian goaded.
‘No!’ screamed David, the fear in his voice was there for everyone to hear.
Amanda paced nervously in her bedroom, adrenaline still pulsing through her veins.
‘I can’t believe I did that. I can’t believe I hit a child! I should’ve restrained him,’ she blurted, highly emotional.
‘Sometimes it’s difficult, my love,’ consoled Margaret.
‘But you wouldn’t have hit him, right?’ she retorted, looking towards her ally in hope.
Margaret’s silence confirmed as much.
‘I can’t do this,’ insisted Amanda. ‘I can’t look after these children.’
Margaret shut the door and grabbed her firmly by the arm. It was an uncharacteristic moment that took Amanda fully by surprise.
‘I know why you’re here,’ she said, looking the young woman straight in the eyes.
‘Wha… what do you mean?’ asked Amanda, on the back foot.
‘Come on, love. I’ve been a carer as long as I can remember and from the minute you arrived, I knew you were different. No. You wanted something else,’ said Margaret, knowingly.
Amanda frowned in the way that guilty people did when they ha
d been caught out, partly wondering how she had been rumbled and also trying to muster another lie that would allow her to elude the truth. Margaret looked towards the wardrobe with a raised eyebrow.
Damn it! Thought Amanda, angered by her sloppiness. I should’ve been more careful.
‘I checked your room, dear,’ Margaret confirmed. ‘Sorry for the intrusion, but I was curious.’
‘What, uh… what do you want me to say?’ asked Amanda, somewhat sheepishly.
‘Nothing. I want you to listen,’ Margaret informed her. ‘I read your journal and you’re wrong! You hear me? The children are abused here. They suffer every single day,’ she admitted, sadly.
‘What?’ asked Amanda, shocked by the admission.
‘If you turn away now, it would all have been for nothing,’ she declared.
As Margaret’s words sank in, Amanda realised the enormity of her confession.
‘I’ll send for help,’ she said.
‘It won’t work!’ Margaret dismissed. ‘They’ll cover it up, just like they always do! You’ve been here for days looking for them to do something wrong and even you believed they were innocent.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ asked Amanda.
‘Because it’s gone on for too long,’ she said, her words tinged with regret.
Amanda tried to clear her mind.
‘Come with me!’ Amanda suggested.
‘I can’t.’
‘We can go to the police. You can tell them everything you know!’ she encouraged.
‘Amanda, I can’t! I’m the only one who cares for these kids. I can’t leave them, even for a day. And I can’t turn against my son,’ she said, the pain and difficulty of her position threatening to tear her apart.
‘Then tell me everything you know and I’ll go and—’
‘You don’t understand. You hit David, which means he’ll think you’re one of them now. He won’t let you go!’ Margaret revealed.
He?
‘Who?’ asked Amanda.
Margaret did not respond.
‘Maggie, who won’t let me go?’ she repeated.
Margaret turned her back and walked towards the door, lingering in the doorway.
‘When you know the answer to that,’ she said. ‘…you’ll have all the information you need.’
And with that, she left.
Amanda’s instincts had been right. It was fate that had led her there and as she recounted all the lies and deceit that had been pushed her way, a surge of anger filtered through her body and a feeling of sheer determination washed through her.
*
Amanda walked around the home as she contemplated what actions to take. Now that Margaret had confided in her, every corner of the house seemed as sinister as it did on her arrival. She thought of all the details she knew to be true – a lock on each of the children’s doors, an isolation room and a host of quirky carers who had withdrawn themselves from society. The lack of visitors had given them free reign to dish out any form of treatment they saw fit and the number of bodies in the graveyard seemed to confirm their torment had often gone too far. Amanda stepped outside and looked at the land around her – hills, fields and dirt tracks for as far as the eye could see, and not a single house or person in sight that wasn’t involved in the running of the home. She could scream and shout at the top of her lungs and still nobody would hear her. As an aside, the beast that the locals spoke of could well have been the very same grisly creature she saw through the window. Amanda replayed Margaret’s warning. “You don’t understand… He’ll think you’re one of them now… He won’t let you go!” Was she referring to this animal and, if so, why would it be so concerned with what was happening within the home? These questions made her shudder as a cold chill ran down her spine. She considered the possibility of the beast watching her from the surrounding borders and it caused the hairs to stand up on her arms and on her neck. She looked around, paranoid and semi-manic, suddenly expecting to see a creature from out of this world stalking her.
It was clear now. She was in the middle of an incredibly dangerous situation and leaving may not be as simple as she’d first thought. Even if she could leave, she had no conclusive proof that anything was amiss within the home. Were an officer of the law to ask Margaret about what she’d revealed, there was no guarantee she would repeat it. She’d already said she couldn’t turn against her son and in any case, it would be her word against the others. She would be outnumbered by a group of cold, cunning, manipulative people who would surely react vengefully to her betrayal. Amanda couldn’t allow Margaret to be threatened. No… she had to find something to support her story, and as she scanned the natural prison around her, searching for inspiration, her eyes landed on Malcolm, who had again been left alone on the swing. From a distance, she studied his legs, which powered his slow but steady movement. He was capable of more than he let on. She was sure of it, and so she moved across the yard to test her theory.
‘Malcolm?’
He did not flinch.
Amanda looked back across the yard to check that nobody was watching. Walter appeared to be doing a crossword, in which he inexplicably tried to involve Gordon and Georgina, meaning they were all suitably distracted.
‘Malcom, I know you’re in there. Give me a sign you can hear me,’ she said, sounding a little desperate. ‘How can I get through to you?’ she asked, her exasperation leading her to give up early and step away.
Amanda breathed heavily, her heart pounding as the magnitude of her plight started to take a hold of her. It had been a very long time since she had cried, but through a combination of fear and frustration, she was getting close.
‘Who’s out there, Malcolm?’ she asked, more for her own benefit than his. ‘Who’s out there?’ she repeated. ‘Who’s Maggie talking about?’
It was at that moment, just as Amanda was becoming overwhelmed with helplessness and pending defeat, that she felt a hand place itself on her shoulder. She froze. No longer could she hear the squeaking of the swing, and as Malcolm leant in, he whispered a name into her ear that she had heard once before.
‘Elijah.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Checkmate
Monday 14th February, 1972
Amanda turned to see Malcolm looking down at her. When stood, he was even bigger than she’d realised.
‘Who’s Elijah, Malcom?’
With his face still free from expression, he turned around and reclaimed his favourite of the two swings.
‘Who’s Elijah?’
She moved towards him and looked him in the eyes but they had glazed over once more and he resumed the slow, calculated movement that seemed to relax him. Feeling he had said all he was prepared to, Amanda turned and approached Walter with intent.
‘Walt, I wondered if you would mind watching Malcolm while I spend a bit of time with these two?’ she suggested.
He looked up from his crossword puzzle and shrugged.
‘All the same to me,’ he admitted, before getting up and making his way towards the other garden.
Amanda sat on the bench next to Georgina, choosing her words carefully.
‘Whose go is it?’ she asked.
‘Georgina’s go,’ said Gordon, as though he had been waiting to answer the question all day. ‘275 days. It’s a draw.’
‘I used to play chess when I was a girl,’ Amanda added.
‘You are a girl!’ said Georgina.
Amanda smiled and playfully nudged Georgina with her shoulder.
‘When I was a much younger girl,’ she confirmed. ‘Got quite good at it, too.’
Amanda took another glance around the garden, towards the house, in particular. Believing nobody was watching, she put her hand on one of the pawns and picked it up. Georgina firmly grabbed a hold of her wrist.
‘Put it back!’ demanded Georgina in a threatening bark that took Amanda by surprise.
‘I’m sorry, but nobody was playing so I thought maybe I could have a go,’ Am
anda explained.
‘Uh-oh! She touched the piece,’ said Gordon, his expression a combination of confusion and concern. ‘Uh-oh!’
‘Don’t need to move the pieces,’ argued Georgina.
‘Well, if you don’t need to move the pieces, you don’t need this one, do you?’ Amanda quipped, referring to the pawn.
‘Uh-oh!’ continued Gordon.
‘You seem like a bright girl, Georgina. Why don’t you like to talk?’ she asked.
‘‘coz I am bright,’ came her answer.
‘You should definitely put it down now,’ advised Gordon. ‘M-m, h-m. Put it down and walk away.’
‘I’ll make you a deal,’ Amanda teased.
‘What?’ asked Georgina with interest.
‘If you let go of my arm, I’ll tell you.’
Georgina took a moment before letting go. Bright white finger marks remained imprinted over a temporary patch of salmon-pink skin. Amanda studied it for a moment before retracting her arm, wisely leaving the pawn on the board.
‘I was just talking to Malcolm, and—’
‘He wouldn’t talk to you!’ Georgina interrupted.
‘Oh really?’ asked Amanda, curiously. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because you’re one of them,’ confirmed the girl.
‘One of who?’ pressed Amanda.
‘You hit David!’ accused Georgina.
This perhaps explained why Georgina had become so snippy towards her, but more importantly, the child’s words echoed Margaret’s recent caution.
‘Uh-oh!’
‘Do people hit you?’ Amanda asked of the children.
Neither of them answered.
‘Gord… do people hit you sometimes?’ she repeated, targeting the child she believed to be the most likely source of information.
‘No. People don’t hit me, no. Definitely not,’ he replied, his response seeming genuine.
Amanda thought hard.
‘Does Malcolm talk to you?’ she asked, again aimed at Gordon.
‘Sometimes… yah!’ he answered.
‘Gord!’ Georgina snapped.
