by Sian Rosé
Annie paused and glanced timidly up at Julie for reassurance before she muttered a quiet, barely audible “hello” back at her cousin.
“And you three…” Julie looked over the teenagers with visibly less interest.
“The non-cute ones,” supplied Stella. “Zach, Stella, and Lloyd.” She then turned to her father with a pointed look dominating her features, “when can I go and check on Thumper?”
“I can only apologise for the children’s crankiness,” Ronnie cut in, smiling apologetically at Julie, “it’s all been a bit overwhelming for them. You see, this was all very last minute.”
Julie raised an eyebrow, “so what brought you into town, then?” she challenged, not bothering to conceal the suspicion that flickered in her eyes.
Ronnie shrugged casually, “we go wherever the mood takes us.”
“Right,” Julie nodded slowly. “Well, how about I make us some tea? And some breakfast, perhaps? I am so excited that you’re all here…” she coughed, “really,” she added reassuringly.
“Got anything stronger?” Zach asked cheerfully, “Grandma?”
“Uh…”
“He’s joking,” clarified Ronnie, as Julie turned to lead them all down the hallway into the kitchen, and the six of them began to trail after her.
As they all began to disappear down the passage, through the archway into the back room, Flo held back, reaching out for Annie’s arm, stopping her from moving. Alarmed, the girl stared back at her with wide, startled eyes but didn’t make a sound.
“Tea sounds boring, don’t you think?” Flo grinned.
Annie remained silent.
“What do you do for fun around here?” Flo continued, glancing around at the vast, high-ceilinged space. “Looks pretty swanky. Is this where your dads live, too?”
At the mention of her fathers, Annie seemed to soften. Flo could feel her forearm unclench and noticed a small spark of light return to the girl’s nervous stare. After a brief, uncertain moment had passed, Annie shook her head. “Sometimes.”
“Where else do you live?” Flo asked.
“Our motor home,” Annie said, pointing to the front door. “We travel.”
The girl flinched as a shrill bleat of laughter came from Flo’s lips, the sound slashing the otherwise quiet air. She blinked and cocked her head as Flo doubled over, giggling.
“I’m sorry,” grinned Flo, wiping imaginary sweat from her brow. “I just can’t believe you actually live in that thing.”
Annie’s brow crumpled slightly, but before she could reply, Flo was walking backwards, making animated movements with her hands. She pretended to reverse park beside a low sideboard, a wooden bowl of metal keys sitting on top of it. The girl began to rummage through the keys as if she owned the place. “I want to have a look.”
“Um…” Annie looked behind her, hoping that one of her Dads would pop up and save her from this strange, unsettling new friend. “I don’t know which one is my Dad’s key.”
“Ah-hah!” cried Flo triumphantly. She lifted up a key, squinting in concentration at the keyring. “It’s got to be this one.”
“How do you know?” Annie challenged, growing annoyed by Flo’s self-confidence.
“Your dads are both poofters, right?” Flo said with a shrug, brandishing the keyring in front of Annie’s face. “Definitely Spice Girls fans…”
“Get off them!” snapped Annie, sharply, grabbing for the set of keys. Of course, she missed; the sharp, heavy edges of metal stabbing at her empty fingers as her hand sailed through thin air.
In one swift movement, Flo was shoving the keys into the pocket of her jeans and brandishing a sharp kitchen knife just inches from Annie’s face. The little girl snarled, the edge of her lip furling upwards with delight as she watched the fear creep up into her cousin’s expression.
“Come on, cuz,” she smirked, making the blade dance up by her flushed red cheeks. “Let’s go for a joy ride.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Summer, 2000
Adrenaline pulsed through Minnie’s veins, keeping her wide awake in spite of the tantalizingly soft bed that she laid on. After sleeping rough in Scribbles’ flat, the bed in the spare room at Willa and Don’s house was like pure ecstasy to her.
She stared up at the ceiling, the taste of blood spatter still dancing on the tip of her tongue, the soft, warm weight of her baby heavenly in the crook of her arm.
The girl turned, savouring the silk sheets against her cheek, breathing in the gentle scent of the fabric softener.
Her baby boy slept, his tiny chest heaving up and down.
Zach.
Beside the bed, on the carpet, Minnie had packed a large travel bag full of baby clothes, toys, wipes, nappies, and anything else she could grab. She had also helped herself to the contents of the wealthy couple’s wallets, credit cards, and £50 notes included.
Just the thought of it set her soul on fire.
Maybe, if she hadn’t calculated and planned so precisely, she would feel just a little afraid. But Minnie had hunted Willa and Don down and stalked them until she knew the two of them like they were her own parents. Every awful night laying alone in the dog-shit-infested flat, knowing her beloved Ronnie was still being held captive and trafficked, she had planned. She’d considered every possibility.
Perhaps her brains wouldn’t go to waste after all. Maybe she could no longer train to be a doctor, but she was shaping up to be a mighty fine criminal mastermind.
An involuntary squeak of excitement came from Minnie’s lips.
Success felt good. It always did.
But this… this was different.
She felt euphoric. She’d felt high as she’d stabbed Willa and Don to death, then ransacked their home for anything of value. As she had watched the life quickly drain from their eyes, it was as though it was feeding into her soul.
Even more euphoric was the idea of heading to Steve’s as soon as the first trickles of daylight began to flood in through the blinds into the unfamiliar bedroom.
Chapter Forty-nine
Summer, 2000
“I fucking mean it, Bert,” Steve growled into the phone, his fists clenching as he trained his eyes on a grimy spot of tile in the kitchen. “What am I even paying you for? Find the bitch and kill her. Or I’ll find your bitch, fuck her in the arse, then kill both of you. Understood?”
Blood pounded so loudly in his ears that he could not hear the response. Instead, he slammed the phone down hard on the countertop, then let his head fall into his hands.
“FUCK!” he bellowed, nostrils flaring as he stared down at the smudge of coke that decorated the surface.
Weeks had gone by since the little slag had gone missing. Murdered one of his new, wealthy clients, then run off somewhere.
He paused his thoughts momentarily to snort more of the mind-bending substance skittering on the counter, then tried to reason with himself.
The fact was, she hadn’t gone to the police.
Of course, the police were looking for the doctor’s killer, but there was nothing to link the murder back to Steve or the girl.
Which meant that the girl hadn’t gone to the feds.
But why?
With an almighty roar, Steve banged his clenched fist down hard on the table. Maybe the confusion was bothering him more than the anxiety that any moment now, his door would be kicked down. He pictured police swarming the place. His empire wiped out in a matter of seconds.
At that moment, a loud, purposeful rap at the door resounded down the hallway and made his heart briefly stop. Steve’s pulse paused, then began thudding rapidly away inside his arteries. He swallowed and wondered if he had imagined it. He felt the flesh around his arse tighten and clench, a cold chill sliding down his spine as he pricked his ears.
Just a few seconds later, there it was again. Another hearty, almost melodic rap on the front door.
Steve got to his feet and glanced at the clock mounted on the wall in the corner.
&nb
sp; 5 minutes to 11.
Sucking in air, the wide-eyed man hastily snatched a knife up off of the kitchen counter and tightened his clammy grip on its hilt until his palm hurt.
As a kid, his father and older brothers had always mercilessly teased him for being a coward. Now it seemed like, even though the bastards were dead and gone, everything he did caused the echo of their cruel taunts to resound through his head. Normally, Steve spent his nights with a woman. If not a woman, a man. If not a man, a group of associates, or clients, or business partners. But on this one particular occasion, he was alone, apart from the livestock rattling about upstairs.
That’s how Steve knew he really wasn’t so big. Any idiot could play the fearless, menacing predator with a gang of others to back him up. But whenever Steve was alone, his skin broke out in cold gooseflesh, and the paranoia warped every living thought that passed through his brain. Every knock, even sudden noise, or imagined movement sent chills down his spine.
Swallowing, Steve held the knife out and attempted to ignore the way the metal trembled in his weak grip. He held his breath as he tread the familiar carpeted hallway down the heart of the house towards the front door.
What was he so afraid of?
The feds?
An older brother or a father come looking for revenge?
An entire inventory of teenagers rushed through his head. Usually lost, naïve, troubled souls who made the fatal error of travelling too far from home and burning all their bridges. The good ones would last a few years; the weaker would only be able to withstand a few months before they got themselves in trouble. Whatever. They all ended up the same way.
Dead.
A cold, leaking slab of meat left abandoned in some urban exile. Not that Steve knew much about that, he paid an expert to dispose of the corpses. All he had ever done was facilitate the business, make deals and most importantly… recruit.
Irritated by his own cowardice, once Steve reached the front door, he forced his face up to the peep hole and squinted a bloodshot eye through the tiny lens.
The tension in his chest instantly released.
He pulled open the front door, allowing a cold gust of wind to sting his face. It felt good, refreshing.
There was nobody on the doorstep. He was alone.
Steve laughed and shook his head, shoulders sagging as he relaxed.
Just the drugs playing tricks on his mind.
He sighed and shut the door, ready to retreat back into the kitchen and take another line. But before he even had the chance to take another breath, a sudden stab of pain plunged into the flesh on his upper back.
“FUCK!” he screeched, dropping the knife in his hand and falling forwards onto his knees.
Another thick, painful slice ripped through muscle, forcing his body to curl forwards into a stiff bend.
The cold edge of a blade appeared against his throat then, its glistening wet teeth teasing his quivering, clammy skin.
“Turn around,” a soft, young voice instructed.
Trembling, Steve obeyed, slowly forcing his limbs to cooperate. An involuntary squeak escaped his lips as his eyes met hers, and recognition suddenly dawned on him.
The girl. The little bitch who killed the doctor and ran off.
“You…” he gasped.
“That’s right,” she whispered, holding the knife tighter to his pathetic throat, her teeth grating down into a rage-fuelled grimace. “Remember me?”
Steve pressed his lips together. He could feel the teenager’s wrist shaking uncontrollably and the light weight of her body hovering just a few centimetres above him. A nasty grin crept up onto his face as he reached up one hand and clamped it tightly over her bony wrist.
“Stupid slag,” he hissed with glee, “should’ve quite whilst you were ahead.” He lunged forward, instantly knocking her over, adrenaline numbing the pain of the shallow stab wounds that soaked crimson rapidly through his shirt.
Minnie felt the blade skitter out of her hand and clatter to the floor, somewhere where she couldn’t see because her entire vision was completely occupied by Steve’s ugly, snarling face. His foul-smelling breath caused her eyes to crinkle and water, and a white-hot sear of pain in her forehead told her that he was yanking her hair upwards.
“You’ve had me on right the run-around, little girl,” he sneered, straddling her midsection and pinning both of her wrists to the ground. “Think it’s about time you gave me something back in return…”
With surprising strength concealed in his deceivingly gangly arms, he wrenched her right hand backwards, causing an almighty crack. The pain was so great; it was like the girl’s soul had left her body. Winded by the intense rush of agony, she helplessly gulped in air, but before she could scream, another gnarly snap of tendons pierced the atmosphere.
Steve let go of her broken wrists and sat back to relish the shock that invaded her expression.
Just as the first low, pained sob rolled out from Minnie’s throat, her head snapped upwards to catch sight of her gnarled and shattered arm. Blood leaking from an already blackening patch of skin, where a sharp fragment of bone poked through.
“No…” she cried, thrashing her head, manically kicking out her legs at the monster who now threw back his head and erupted into an evil cackle of laughter.
“Come on now, I couldn’t have you stabbing me again,” Steve purred in delight, stroking the side of her face.
Her hands felt as though they were weighed down by dead weights, held in a vice-like grip by the torturous agony attacking her limbs.
“Fuck you!” she spat furiously up at Steve.
He laughed again and leaned down, showering her with a hot, damp mist of his sour odour, until their faces were so close together that he could whisper.
“No, sweetheart. I think you’ll find it’ll be me fucking you.”
Chapter Fifty
2019
Amazing, Ronnie couldn’t help but think to himself bitterly as he sat quietly in the corner of the Walter’s sitting room, holding a lukewarm cup of pale, speckled tea. After all this time, he felt just as small and unworthy as he had all of those years ago, whenever he’d been granted the honour of joining Minnie and her family for dinner.
Of course, they had never been allowed to be alone together at Minnie’s house, which meant that every memory that Ronnie had of the place was tainted by Henry’s booming, overbearing voice and Julie’s always-secretly-judging smiles.
The only difference between then and now was that Ronnie was joined by three of his kids, and Henry was confined to a wheelchair.
It was, even to Ronnie, who prided himself on having a cold, dark heart, a pathetic, depressing sight.
Henry was just one big fat slab of flesh wedged into the chair, his face and mouth crooked at one angle, unable to contribute anything of use to the conversation other than the occasional drip of spittle. Still, Ronnie felt the man’s eyes trained on him, cold and steely, watching his every breath.
Ronnie avoided looking at his estranged father-in-law at all costs.
“Are you in town for long?” Julie asked her daughter brightly, in a clearly botched attempt to sound breezy and indifferent as if it didn’t matter either way.
Minnie sat, unable to take her eyes off of her father, her hand clasped into his. She swallowed and shook her head distantly. “Just stopping by,” she muttered.
Paul took a loud, obnoxious swig of his drink and set it down on the coffee table. He narrowed his eyes across the room at Minnie, and Ronnie almost smirked in amusement at how the fellow had so quickly changed his demeanour. One moment the friendly gay bloke, the next the bitchy queer. “But that wasn’t originally your plan, was it?”
Minnie looked at him then, briefly sizing him up. Ronnie watched the familiar analytical look sweep over her face as her pupils flittered Paul up and down. Before she could speak, Ross chimed in.
“Sounds like Ronnie and Minnie don’t particularly live by plans,” he smiled, “what a great way to
be.”
“Yes,” Paul drawled, “so fabulous to ghost your parents for twenty years.”
“Paul!” Julie snapped, shooting daggers at him. “Enough!”
But Minnie seemed unfazed. In fact, Ronnie knew she’d be getting a kick out of the challenge. She smiled at Paul, bright eyes gleaming. “You don’t know anything.”
Paul scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I know enough. I know you are both on the run…”
“Paul!”
“…what? It’s true, right? Burned a guy alive some years ago. Then just waltz back in here after letting your family believe you’re dead for all this time. Here are the real-life Bonnie and Clyde…”
Ross glared furiously at his husband. “Paul, there are kids present.”
Suddenly, Paul’s cheeks flushed red as he glanced over at Lloyd, Stella, and Zach, each of them sitting quietly beside their father, solemn-faced, absorbing every aspect of the situation like leeches.
“The past is the past,” Minnie said, maintaining the eerily wide smile. “I wasn’t planning on coming here because I was worried how my parents would react. Ross convinced me, and I’m glad he did.”
Julie sighed and rushed over to her daughter, enveloping her in a full, tight cuddle that honestly made Minnie’s skin crawl.
Paul’s expression hardened. He made a loud, clicking noise with his tongue and then stood up, brow furrowed. For a moment, he opened his mouth, then closed it again, then made as if he was going to turn away. But he stopped himself and suddenly took a few paces towards where Minnie was sitting. Ronnie felt his fists clench, but he kept still, biding his time, watching intently.
Paul moved his face towards Minnie and glowered down at her, his entire body quivering with rage.
“Do you have any idea how much pain you caused? Not just to your parents, but to your brother?” he whispered, every word alight with fury.
Minnie blinked up at him, her face void of any emotion.
Ross stood up then, before anybody else could speak, and gripped tightly onto Paul’s arm, pulling him away.
“It’s fine, whatever,” snapped Paul indignantly, yanking his arm away. “You all pretend like everything is fine and dandy. Like you can all just pick up where you left off.” He glared at his husband, “haven’t you forgotten what you said to me? What you all said to me?” he spun around then to shoot Julie a look.
