‘But dumping bodies at low tide is what he does,’ said Harvey.
‘It’s what he does now,’ said Barney. ‘But what if, the first time, he just wanted to get rid of the body, but then when it was found and there was a huge fuss, he found he quite liked the attention?’
‘You’ve given this guy a lot of thought, haven’t you, young Barney?’ said Jorge.
‘This water is getting higher,’ said Sam. ‘Please can we go now?’
‘Right, we have to go over this gate and through the yard on the other side,’ said Barney. ‘Then we have to climb down a ladder to get to the boats.’
Just before Creekside met the main road, the properties on the river side of the street became working yards and lock-up areas. High walls, higher gates, barbed wire and forbidding signs told them that security was taken very seriously.
‘How do the owners get to the boats?’ asked Sam.
‘They have keys to the gate,’ said Barney. ‘I couldn’t find ours. I tried.’
‘What if there’s dogs?’ said Hatty nervously.
‘There weren’t last time I was here,’ said Barney. ‘Just vans – ice-cream vans, builders’ vans, fish-and-chip vans. Nothing worth having guard dogs for. But if there are, they’ll go for Sam first.’
‘Hey!’
‘Once we’re over the gate, no one can talk,’ said Barney. ‘People live on most of these boats, and they’re not keen on people just wandering through the yard to gawp at them, so we have to be quiet.’
Repeating the process that had got them over the fence at the Educational Trust building, the boys and Hatty clambered over into the yard.
‘Oh, well skanky,’ said Hatty, looking round. The quarter-acre-sized yard was little more than a car park for vehicles that owners didn’t feel comfortable leaving on the street overnight. Small Portakabins around the outside of the yard suggested that work of some kind went on here, but the general run-down feel of the place indicated that it probably wasn’t work you wanted to enquire too deeply into the nature of. Rubbish and discarded tools littering the ground made plain that no one ever gave a thought to clearing up.
‘I never said it was the Riviera,’ replied Barney.
‘I can’t see any boats,’ said Sam.
‘That’s because they’re still low in the water. Come on.’
The children followed Barney through the yard to the moorings. Like everything else in the yard, the two-foot-wide strip of concrete that edged the Creek bank was strewn with rubbish, discarded tools and scrap metal, and Barney remembered another reason why his dad was often reluctant to bring him. It’s too friggin’ dangerous for a kid.
Barney dropped to his knees, the others followed his example and they looked out across the eleven houseboats currently moored in this stretch of the Creek. Music was drifting from one of the boats. If they were lucky, it would mask the sound of them creeping across.
‘This isn’t part of the main channel of the Creek,’ said Barney. ‘This is an offshoot they call the Theatre Arm. Dad told me why once, but I wasn’t listening. Across the water is Lewisham College and there’s sometimes a nightwatchman, so we have to be extra careful.’
‘Which is your granddad’s boat?’ asked Hatty.
Barney pointed to the left. Three large houseboats, at one time fishing boats or dredgers, were moored to the bank. Tied up to them were four smaller boats and, in the third line along, five boats that were smaller still. To get to his granddad’s boat in the third row, the children would have to creep across the ones in between.
‘It’s the yellow one with two masts,’ Barney said. ‘We should go in two groups, tread quietly and not talk. I’ll go first. Who wants to come with me?’
Sam was looking nervously across the line of boats. Dim light shone from several of them. ‘Why can’t we all go together?’ he said.
‘Because you lot can’t keep from talking. All of us together will sound like a herd of elephants, someone will hear us and that’ll be the end of it,’ said Barney.
‘He’s right,’ said Jorge. ‘I’ll come last. Barney, you go with Sam and Harvey, Lloyd and Hatty will follow. If anyone comes, I’ll crow like a cockerel and you can all hide.’
A second, whilst what Jorge had just said sank in.
‘Crow like a cockerel?’ said Lloyd. ‘Won’t that be a bit obvious? I don’t see any chickens round here.’
‘Hoot like an owl then,’ said Jorge. ‘Whatever.’
Barney, Harvey and Sam climbed down the ladder on to the first houseboat. The rain was falling faster and the air was punctuated by thousands of plopping noises. As they made their way around the deck, which could hardly be seen beneath the pots and planters, the sound of a Saturday-evening quiz show drifted out towards them.
‘They have TV?’ whispered Sam, as he followed Barney over the guardrail and on to the next boat.
Barney had been looking carefully at the cabin windows of the middle boat. The curtains weren’t closed and no light shone from below. He nodded at Sam. ‘A lot of them have their own generators,’ he said. ‘No mains power, though.’
‘What about gas?’ asked Sam.
What was this? A lesson in domestic utilities?
‘Calor,’ he said, hoping that would be the end of it. ‘Comes in bottles.’
‘What’s with all the plants?’
Barney raised his eyes to the night sky. ‘They don’t have any gardens.’
A couple of seconds’ silence while Sam thought about that one. Then, ‘Neither do we, but we don’t cover our veranda with plants.’
‘Sssh!’
‘What?’
Barney put his finger to his lips. He dropped into a squat and peered into the water. It was about five or six feet deep, he judged, and getting deeper every second. It was also moving very fast, not smoothly the way it would in the main river, but sloshing backwards and forwards, swirling and slopping. It was noisy, and yet there’d been something that wasn’t quite …
‘What?’ Sam was looking left and right, and making rude gestures to the group still waiting up on the wall. For crying out loud!
‘Listen,’ Barney mouthed.
A few seconds of silence, then, ‘Can’t hear anything,’ said Sam.
Barney got to his feet. It had probably been nothing.
‘What?’ asked Harvey as they set off again, treading carefully around the front deck of the middle boat. ‘What did you hear?’
‘I thought there was something in the water. Probably just a bird feeding.’
The light grew fainter and the streets of Deptford began to feel a long way away. Barney tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. The splashing sound he’d heard had been too loud to be a bird, even supposing they were still feeding in the dark.
When they reached the side deck, they could look down on to the yellow yacht in front of them, which seemed smaller and at the same time neater than Barney remembered. He turned back to signal to the others. He had to hope that Lloyd and Hatty would be quieter than he, Harvey and Sam had been. The next two children climbed down the ladder and began making their way towards them.
‘What a pair of dorks,’ muttered Sam.
Lloyd and Hatty were scuttling along the deck of the first boat at a slow run, bent double, glancing to left and right like commandos. At least they were moving quietly, though, and they weren’t stopping to talk. Lightly, they jumped on to the middle boat and ran round to join Barney and the others.
‘This place is freaking me out,’ said Hatty in a low whisper when they were close enough. ‘Why’s it have to be so dark?’
‘It’s private land, so the Council don’t put in streetlights,’ said Barney. ‘And we’re a long way from the road. Just watch what you’re doing. If you fall in here we might not be able to get you out again.’
Sam responded to that sensible piece of advice by leaning out over the guardrail and looking down.
‘Now what?’ said Harvey, as Jorge arrived.
; ‘Now we climb aboard and break a window,’ said Jorge. ‘I’ll do it, then I’ll help Hatty climb through. Only the two of us should go on board because if we make a noise, it’ll be easier for us to hide. You lot stay here till we’re in.’
‘This boat’s empty,’ said Barney, indicating the one they were standing on. ‘Let’s get down into the cockpit. And I’m coming with you. We may not have to break a window. I’ll try the hatches.’
As Harvey, Sam and Lloyd stepped into the cockpit of the larger boat, Hatty took hold of the boat rail and swung herself up. The yellow boat didn’t register the extra weight. Jorge followed and the boat rocked gently. Then Barney was on board, following Hatty across the cabin roof towards one of the main hatches. She dropped on to all fours on one side of it, he did the same on the other.
In spite of his misgivings, Barney had to admire the way she could move so lightly, making no sound at all. Following her lead, he slid his fingers under the edge of the hatch and pulled gently. The hatch moved two inches and they heard music from below. Hatty peered inside and froze. Barney looked, too. And didn’t believe what he was seeing. A sharp nudge on his shoulder brought his attention back to Hatty. She was frowning at him, signalling urgently with her eyes. She wanted him to help her lower the hatch.
But, I mean, what … ?
Sharp gesticulation on Hatty’s part and Barney pulled himself together. Between them, they lowered the hatch, just as gently as they’d lifted it. Signalling to Jorge to follow, Hatty stepped off the roof, over the rail and back on to the middle boat. Barney followed slowly.
‘What?’ hissed Harvey.
‘There was someone on board,’ replied Hatty.
Everyone looked at Barney, who could do nothing but shake his head.
‘What did you see?’ asked Jorge.
‘A bloke,’ said Hatty. ‘Just the back of him. Couldn’t see his face, not even his head. Just a blue and yellow sweatshirt.’
A blue and yellow sweatshirt that Barney knew well.
‘Did he see you?’ Jorge asked.
‘No, I don’t think he even heard us, there was music playing. And he was leaning into some sort of cupboard.’
‘You sure that’s your boat?’ asked Lloyd.
Barney nodded. Of course he was sure, he’d discussed it with his dad just that afternoon.
‘What if it’s … you know … him?’ said Sam.
‘Who?’ said Lloyd.
‘The vampire,’ hissed Sam, hardly audible.
The vampire was the killer. Sam thought the man on the boat was the killer.
‘In a blue and yellow sweatshirt?’ said Jorge.
‘What was that?’ asked Hatty, looking round.
‘I heard it too,’ said Lloyd.
‘Someone threw a stone in the water,’ said Jorge, looking round the group. ‘Come on, own up.’
‘We heard something before,’ said Sam, who seemed to have forgotten he’d been talking too much to hear anything. ‘Me and Barney and Harvey. Like a bird or an animal in the water.’
‘Shush!’
Splash, splash.
The children fell silent. No one seemed to know what to do next. Then Harvey stepped a little closer to the boat’s edge. Leaning forward, he raised the torch and shone it down. A second later, he gave a strangled scream, the torch fell to the deck and he was running away from the others, round the front of the boat, slipping on the damp deck.
‘Harvey!’ yelled Jorge, giving chase.
Making far too much noise, but hardly knowing what else to do, the others followed, on to the big houseboat and then over to the ladder. Jorge and Harvey were already up and out of sight. Hatty put her foot on the bottom rung of the ladder.
‘He’s pissing about,’ said Sam, who didn’t look sure.
‘You lot! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ On the next boat along, a man on deck was shining a torch towards them. ‘Get back here, now!’
The children scrambled up the ladder, Barney the last to leave the boat. Halfway up, he turned back. Two men were visible now, shining torches around, checking to make sure their boats hadn’t been damaged, angry, but not enough to give chase along wet decks in the dark.
Then there was movement on Barney’s boat and in the light from the cabin he could see the man in the companionway, watching the commotion but staying out of sight of just about everyone but him. The man in the familiar blue and yellow sweatshirt who’d scared Hatty away. It hadn’t been a mistake, a cruel trick of the light. The man on the boat was his father.
‘Barney, come on!’
The others had run in the wrong direction, not back to the large yard gates, but towards the very tip of the Creek’s backwater. They were huddled in the shelter of the massive steel pilings that supported the A2009. Jorge, unusually protective, had his arm round his younger brother. They were very close to the water and the tide was coming in fast now.
Had anyone else seen his dad?
Barney reached the group and turned back to the boats. The men who’d come up to investigate had gone back below. The yellow yacht was in darkness once more.
‘What happened, Harvey?’ asked Lloyd.
‘There was someone in the water.’
The children pressed closer together, turning instinctively to face the black river.
‘I think we should go home now,’ said Jorge.
‘What sort of someone?’ asked Sam.
Harvey shook his head. ‘Too dark,’ he said. ‘I just saw, like, an arm coming out of the water.’ He raised his right arm in a swimming motion. ‘You know, like when you’re doing the crawl. And then I saw eyes looking at me. Big eyes like a fish, only a massive fish.’
‘I’m out of here,’ said Sam, not moving.
‘Harvey, it was probably just an animal,’ said Lloyd. ‘An otter or something.’
‘A bloody otter,’ said Jorge. ‘Since when did you get otters in the middle of London?’
Barney had never seen Jorge scared before. He was trying hard to hide it, but couldn’t quite keep his eyes from staring, his mouth from clenching up tight. The hand still round his younger brother’s shoulders was trembling.
‘I’m just saying,’ said Lloyd.
They couldn’t have recognized, even noticed, his dad. One of them would have said something. ‘It could have been someone swimming,’ said Barney. ‘People do, in summer. My dad won’t let me, he says it’s too dirty, but some people do.’
Just talking about his dad felt wrong, as though the others might make the connection between the words coming out of his mouth and the man on the boat.
‘It’s nearly ten o’clock at night,’ said Lloyd. ‘Who’d be swimming at ten o’clock? In February?’
‘In the rain,’ added Hatty. ‘I’d really like to get away from the river.’
Barney only had to look at everyone’s faces to know they all agreed with Hatty.
‘I’m going to ring my dad,’ said Sam.
‘If you ring your dad, we’ll all get murdered,’ said Jorge. ‘Come on. Lloyd was probably right, it probably was just an otter. Or a badger. Or a walrus.’
‘Or a hippo,’ said Hatty, who was starting to smile again.
The group made their way back to the yard, heading for the gates.
‘A hippo called Hatty.’ Jorge gave Hatty a tiny nudge on the shoulder.
‘What you sayin’?’ She pushed him back, a bit harder.
‘Or a crocodile,’ said Lloyd.
‘Or a mermaid,’ said Hatty.
Splash, splash.
‘Oh God, no,’ whimpered Sam, as the children stopped in their tracks. Jorge raised his torch and directed it on to the river. Oily blackness, the slow flow of water coming in from the Thames, gentle ripples, as though something had disturbed the surface not seconds earlier. Then, just out of reach of the torch beam, movement that they all saw.
‘There!’
‘Jorge, there!’
Four torch beams fixed on one point. Nothing in the blac
k water. Stillness. Tension that Barney thought would make one of them scream any second. Then all five screamed as the creature hurled itself out of the water at them. A child, like them, but nothing like them. This child was dead. This child was covered in a waxy, sticky substance that looked as though it had leaked out of him. His body had been half eaten by river creatures. His eye sockets stared black and empty and his tongue-less mouth gaped open as if he was screaming too. He rose out of the river, lurched towards them and then collapsed face-down on the bank.
Barney didn’t think he would ever stop running.
30
With his long sharp nails he opened a vein in his breast. When the blood began to spurt out, he took my hands in one of his, holding them tight and with the other seized my neck and pressed my mouth to the wound so that I must either suffocate or swallow … some of the … Oh my god … my god. What have I done?
LACEY CLOSED HER Kindle. Jesus, she’d forgotten what a creepy book Dracula was. A phantom that gained power from the blood of its prey, that grew stronger with every fresh victim it claimed. It was a truly horrible thought. And now people were being led to believe there was a real one running around South London. It was no wonder they were getting twitchy.
She got up off the sofa and stretched. There was noise in the street outside, people gathered just above her window. Lacey walked across and pulled the curtains apart an inch. Kids – one of whom looked like Barney – and something was up. They were edgy, nervous; waiting for Barney to open the front door, they kept glancing down the street. She was half tempted to go out, make sure they were OK, then they filed into the house and the door slammed shut.
Over at her desk, her laptop was still open and Lacey soon found the Missing Boys page. Honestly, the drivel people were prepared to post was endless. And she wasn’t the only one to have rediscovered Dracula that weekend. The page had any number of posts linking passages in the book with some aspect of the murders. Most of the connections seemed pretty spurious.
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