—So you went to the churchyard in Belkeld…
—Yeah. They were all smoking joints, and it was like I wasn’t even there. And then Haris came along. Great, I thought; oh great, more madness. But it was Brian – Brian in his stupid, overexcited state – who suggested Tom gave some of the weed to Haris. It was Brian who suggested Charlie tell him that Nanna Wrack story right then. I remember him saying, ’Wait. Wait for a bit. Wait till the weed starts kicking in!’ It was Tom who threw the snowballs; Charlie who told the story, but it was all Brian’s idea.
This is in direct contradiction to Eva Bickers’ account of what happened. According to Eva, it was Tom who instigated giving the cannabis to Haris. I tell Anyu this and she shakes her head.
—Nope. Nope, that’s what I think everyone would have liked to have happened. That would have fitted the bill. It wasn’t what happened, though. And I know why – it was just Brian trying to impress. You should have seen his face when Tom and Charlie started laughing. I think, if I hadn’t been so angry with Eva, we probably would have tried to stop them. I remember her looking at me, but I just turned away; just made myself feel invisible like I used to at school. Horrible, right? We should have done something about it, shouldn’t we? We were fifteen; that’s what I have to keep reminding myself when I think about that day. We were just stupid children.
There is a lot of detail here; a lot of ‘what if ’s and ‘looking back’s. I personally think that teenagers get a great deal of bad press for the things they do and don’t do. But there’s always layers to peel back before we can fully understand.
Look at this incident with Haris Novak – a pivotal event that was never covered or discussed at the inquest – and why should it have been? The papers saw Haris as a suspect, but his alibi was solid. Desperate to impress, Brian Mings would have sold his own mother for an inkling of approval from Tom or Charlie. Whether it was Tom or Charlie whose idea it was to give a vulnerable man cannabis and throw snowballs at him, doesn’t matter. What matters is that it happened. And whether it was Tom or Brian who started it, both had self-serving, rather than purely vindictive motives – for one it was a display of dominance; for the other a desperate attempt at validation. Haris Novak seemed not to matter here; he was simply a pawn – a victim of what anyone who hasn’t talked to those involved will quite rightly see as an impulsive and unkind practical joke.
That isn’t to say it should have happened, or that Brian, Tom or Charlie are blameless. Even the two girls have some guilt: why did they do nothing to stop it? Eva Bickers had been silenced by the shame of sleeping with Tom and Anyu was furious with her best friend about her actions the previous night.
All of these things are layers; they all impacted on the group’s dynamic and subsequent behaviour. I believe it is layers like these we will have to pull back if we are to gain any understanding of what happened to Tom Jeffries the following summer.
There is something else I want to ask Anyu about that night; something that Eva told me. Eva and Charlie both confirm what happened to Haris Novak in December 1995. I am now in little doubt that this profoundly affected him and may have been the trigger for his Beast of Belkeld stories. It surprises me that Anyu claims it was Brian Mings’ idea but, as much as I don’t want to believe it, I think I do. It makes sense. But it is that evening in December that I want another viewpoint on.
—What about after that snowballs incident – that evening. Had anything changed?
—What, you mean in terms of the group? No, we had more or less forgotten about it. How terrible does that sound? After tea and washing-up, we just went back to the dorm and got drunk and stoned again. I don’t remember a lot of it.
—There was an incident with Brian, the night that Tom disappeared, wasn’t there? Putting something in your drink?
—No. Not possible. No way. Brian wouldn’t have done that.
—Tom apparently saw him do it.
—Tom was full of shit. Brian would never have done that, not to me, I am sure of it.
—Didn’t Tom take delight in pointing it out?
—Thing is, Tom was always saying stuff like that; trying to embarrass Brian whenever he did anything, especially when I was about. It got to the point where Brian got too nervous to say or do anything around me. I hated Tom for that.
I think so far, we’ve seen an unexpected side to Anyu Kekkonen. She still seems unhappy with the others, and is particularly annoyed with Eva, whom she thought was her friend, for sleeping with Tom Jeffries that night in December. I don’t let on about what happened between Eva and Charlie. I’m only presuming that Anyu doesn’t know.
However, it feels like we are still no closer to explaining what happened to Tom Jeffries that night in 1996. The story is encumbered with these little spats and details of teenagers, well, being teenagers, I suppose. We could say that, so far, all suspicions point to Brian Mings. But was he capable of murder? Surely his first instinct before killing Tom would be simply to leave and not return?
There are a few more creases that I need to try and iron out.
—Did Charlie ever tell you that he and Tom thought they saw Nanna Wrack up on the fell?
—No. No, he didn’t.
There is a moment of awkwardness after I mention this. Anyu’s entire demeanour changes and her body language becomes defensive.
—He and Tom saw her, apparently, up at the mineshaft, after they had been—
—That’s just…
—What?
—That’s just wrong; just not possible.
—Charlie believes that it was probably some kind of collective hallucination, overactive imaginations, something like that.
—You’re joking. This is a joke.
—No, I—
—Seriously. Just stop. Just tell me the truth. It’s a joke.
—It’s not. At least, Charlie seemed to believe…
—Please, please, tell me you’re making this up – please.
Anyu’s loss of calm is alarming. The grace and serenity that she has exuded for our interview has slipped rather dramatically. To say I am slightly unnerved by this is an understatement.
—Just take your time, Anyu. There is no joke here…
—No … you don’t understand. We … this is going to sound crazy … but me and Eva … we saw her, too…
—What?
—Yes. I … I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. Because … just … it just wasn’t possible.
—When? Where was it you saw her?
—You remember I told you about Qalupalik – the story that I told Charlie?
—Then he told you about Lydia, his little sister.
—Yeah. It was such a weird day – so strange, just the two of us in the mineshaft. And after he told me about her we were so quiet, just staring out over the hills. And then something changed. It was like … you know when you’re talking about ants or insects or something, and you can almost feel them on your skin? It was like that; just like that. Something in the air just sort of changed. Neither of us wanted to say it, but it was like we were being watched.
—That’s creepy. Where were the others?
—I don’t know. Maybe they were there. But Tom Jeffries wasn’t in Rangers then, so … and I just don’t think Eva or Brian would do that. I really don’t. But, later on that afternoon, it was quiet. It was just me and Eva, we were just sort of sitting around in the centre. Looking out of the window and I don’t think either of us believed it at first, but we saw this … this shape just sort of creeping along the fell … with this sort of mane of hair. It was horrible, really horrible, and we both sort of convinced ourselves we hadn’t seen it, that it was a vision, a dream. It makes me feel just horrible thinking about it – Charlie’s story, my story…
Anyu is visibly upset recalling this particular memory and it makes me think of Charlie’s description of the arachnid motion that had repulsed him so much.
During the inquest and, what I can only presume, the questioning of
the teenagers, this Nanna Wrack sighting was not mentioned, or if it was, it was dismissed.
Let’s say that they did see something – or someone – up there on the fell. The descriptions are similar: the mane of hair and the spider-like movement. But in Charlie’s story Nanna Wrack has seaweed for hair; and Anyu’s Qalupalik has bedraggled black hair. The visions and the stories seem to meld.
Anyu regains her pragmatism as we iron out the details of both sightings. I have to say I am perturbed by the similarities. I ask Anyu what she thinks it was.
—I think the collective hallucination thing is valid. Or else we created a Tulpa, us lot.
A Tulpa is a Buddhist concept; it is a being that is created solely by thought, or a collective belief. A modern example of something like this is ‘Slender Man’, a creature created on Photoshop as part of a competition. If you don’t know who Slender Man is, take a moment to search him out online.
After Slender Man found his way into popular culture, it wasn’t long before people were reporting sightings of him. Some even tried to kill for him.
—Would you go so far as to say Tom’s disappearance was because of this Tulpa … that you created Nanna Wrack between you and she took him?
—Do you think that sounds like a legitimate theory? Really?
—Well…
—Clearly not. But do you have a better one? Do the police?
—The official verdict was misadventure.
—Do you believe that?
—Do you?
—No.
—So what do you think happened to Tom Jeffries that night?
—I don’t know. Honestly. It’s like I said to the police at the time: I don’t think it was an accident.
—Someone killed him.
—Maybe.
—Let’s go back to that last night at Scarclaw Fell. You, just like the others said you drank, you smoked and then you went to bed. And in the morning, Tom Jeffries was gone.
—That’s how I remember it happening.
—There’s just something that doesn’t add up. The five of you were the only people at Scarclaw Fell Woodlands Centre that night, along with Derek and Sally. Every time you had all been together there, you had partied, drunk, smoked, et cetera. Both Eva and Charlie say that the night Tom disappeared, you all went to bed early. None of you seem to have a clear memory of that night. Doesn’t that seem strange?
—In a way. Or does it just seem strange because that was the night Tom disappeared? The whole thing is a question that, if I knew the answer to, well, we wouldn’t be talking now, would we?
—I suppose not. So what do you remember?
—I remember that the whole weekend was odd. Maybe that was because there were just a few of us. I think Derek and Sally had a hard time because they didn’t really know what to do with us. I mean, we were still children, but we wanted to be treated like adults. I think they felt a bit tentative, like they wanted to give us our space, so they sort of stayed away from us. We were all in a funny sort of mood, to be fair. We did the things we normally do: we went up to Belkeld; smoked a bit in the mineshaft; we even saw Haris, just like usual.
—What happened with Haris?
—Nothing this time; he just came up and said hello. I think Tom was a bit fed up; so was Charlie. But Brian, he was still trying to impress them and he said something to Haris – something about that bag. That stupid black bag of his that he kept bringing.
—Can you remember what exactly happened with that bag?
—No. Brian had this stupid idea he was going on about, that they could leave stuff in his bag, in the mineshaft, and Haris would keep it safe for them. He told Haris some crap about Nanna Wrack and Haris went running off. I was sick of Brian by then. I couldn’t be bothered with him. In fact, I was feeling like I couldn’t be bothered with any of them. Maybe that’s why that night was just so nothingy.
—Was there anything that happened that night? Anything you can remember that might have triggered what happened to Tom?
—Honestly. I remember so little about it. I know we had a bit of a drink, a bit of a smoke. Charlie and Tom were doing a lot of creeping about together and Brian kept trying to get everyone to drink quicker, to ‘get wasted’. I think he felt he had to sort of take Charlie’s place.
—One of the other things is that you all seemed to wake up at around the same time and noticed Tom was gone.
—That was strange. Maybe that was something to do with a collective consciousness? I don’t know. Maybe we heard something, sensed something. I remember one thing though – one thing that didn’t make sense.
—What…?
—It could well have been a dream, but I doubt it. Dreams don’t feel like that. It’s hazy, but it’s definitely a memory. I woke up – it was summer, but still pretty chilly, so maybe three, four a.m.? We slept in bunks. I always slept the furthest from the window, just because Tom always slept next to the window and was in and out all night with Charlie, smoking and pissing around.
I remember waking. We were all a jumble of legs and clothes – half in, half out of bunks or on the floor. That was normal, we just sort of slept where we fell, as teenagers do. The room was full of heavy breathing, smelled sweaty and kind of sweet – you know, that alcohol, fermented sort of smell? But I remember so clearly, the smell of the fresh air, the smell of the outside, coming inside. Maybe that’s what woke me up.
Anyway, I sort of sat up, my eyes all sort of fuzzy.
—Go on.
—Someone else was awake, too. I could just sense an … an urgency … a movement.
—Who was it?
—I’m pretty sure it was Brian. In fact, yeah, it was Brian. As I say, it was dark in the dormitory, so I could only make out his outline; a shadowy lump. But he was at the foot of the bunks – Eva’s bunk, just sort of scrabbling.
—Scrabbling?
—Yeah, like a sort of hamster or something. Both hands, going through the piles of coats and bags.
—Really? What could he have been doing?
— My first thought was he was stealing. But then I thought it was Brian – Brian wouldn’t do something like that; he just didn’t have it in his nature. No, it was weird … different. More like he was putting something back.
—Did he notice you’d noticed him?
—It was odd, because when I woke up and watched him for a few seconds, he sort of seemed to sense me and stopped. He looked up, right at me. I couldn’t see his face. And there was a moment – a second when one of us should have spoken. But neither did, and the moment just sort of passed.
—Why didn’t you say anything to the others?
—Yeah, why didn’t I? OK, so this reasoning might seem skewed or wrong, or whatever, but I couldn’t stop thinking what would happen if Tom got wind of it. It’d be enough ammunition for him to destroy Brian. Like I say, I know what it’s like to be bullied. Tom wouldn’t have let it go.
—Where did Brian go then?
—I don’t remember exactly; it was early. I was half asleep. He went back to bed, I presume.
—His own bed?
—Yes. I don’t see why not…
—It’s just that Eva said…
—Oh yeah. Of course, yeah. That makes sense. He ended up with Eva that night, didn’t he?
—According to Eva, yes. Anyu, you seem a bit…
—I know. I’m sorry. It’s stupid; it’s been twenty years, hasn’t it. But, you know, it still … I guess it still hurts a little bit…
—What does?
—It’s stupid, but Brian liked me. He always did. And then to just go with Eva, it was like … oh, I don’t know … it was just a bit like, ‘What’s wrong with me? What did I do wrong?’
—But you didn’t like Brian.
—No. That’s why it’s just so weird – why it still bothers me. I think I’d sort of made up my mind about Eva and the others that night. Then, when we woke up later and Tom had gone, it was just – something changed, something between us. For me
anyway. I remember suddenly looking at them all as if through different eyes. I saw them all in a totally different light and I just knew that there was no way we could be friends again … after that, anyway.
—Was Tom gone when you woke and saw Brian scrabbling in the bags?
—He could have been. I have no idea. I didn’t even look. I was so tired, just woozy. I just fell asleep again. Charlie, Eva, they all could have gone … I wouldn’t have noticed. That’s what made the police so annoyed with me. But you just don’t take stock of everyone like that; it’s not natural. You’re not checking in case someone inexplicably vanishes, are you?
—Don’t you think this thing with Brian at four a.m. implicates him as a suspect?
—What? For killing Tom? You think Brian managed to make Tom get up and walk across the fell with him, then managed to overpower him and kill him before hiding his body and coming back? It’s just impossible.
—What was he doing then – at four a.m., scrabbling in a bag?
—You know what I thought at the time – my immediate assumption?
—What…?
—I thought he was looking for a condom. Maybe I still do. That’s logical, right? Something like that? What else could he have been doing?
So where does all this leave us as this episode ends and with one more story to go? Any further forward? I’m not sure. The conclusions that can be drawn so far are significantly more limited than I thought they’d be by now. The events surrounding the trip to Scarclaw Fell in 1996 are stories, myths, angst, unrequited love – all underpinned with a naivety dressed in boots and armour. Teenage life, red in tooth and claw.
Six Stories Page 19
