Hiding Game, The

by Brindle, J. T.

  ‘Little bastard!’ The blasphemy was uttered under Kerry’s breath but not out of Mike’s hearing.

  ‘Leave him to me,’ he said softly. ‘It’ll be all right.’

  Julie had nothing to say but before she, too, went inside, the look on her face told Mike all he needed to know. ‘She likes me even less now than she did before,’ he said to Kerry.

  ‘You’ll just have to win her round,’ Kerry answered brightly. ‘She’s staying with us for a while.’

  ‘That’s OK, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I dare say you’ll need all the help you can get. For now.’ His last words warned Kerry that he would not expect Julie to stay one minute longer than necessary.

  ‘Daddy.’ Susie was six years old, going on twenty.

  Keeping her in his arms, Mike closed the door. ‘Yes, sweetheart?’

  ‘Am I really pretty?’

  Swinging her high in the air, he made her laugh. ‘You’re the prettiest, most delightful little creature I’ve ever seen,’ he said, and won her heart for ever.

  The remainder of the day was spent quietly talking.

  Jack refused to come down from his room, while Susie would not be persuaded from her daddy’s knee. Julie pottered about looking for things to do to keep her out of the way while Kerry and Mike talked about the practical problems that lay ahead. ‘I need to think about work,’ Mike told her. ‘As you know, I’d like to get my old business off the ground again.’

  They discussed the possibility at length, and also Kerry’s need to maintain and expand her own business. ‘I’ve been the breadwinner for too long now to go back to being a housewife,’ Kerry admitted.

  ‘I wouldn’t expect that,’ Mike said. ‘I understand how hard it must have been for you, and I’m proud of what you’ve achieved.’

  Kerry was taken aback. ‘I imagined you’d want everything to be the way it was,’ she confessed.

  Mike looked at her and thought how lovely she was. ‘No, I could never expect that. Everything has changed. You and I have to build on the old foundations, but it has to be a new life, a new direction, I know that.’

  Gazing up into those dark, serious eyes, Kerry was lost in a swirl of emotions. She realised there might be a real chance for them after all.

  Lurking in the kitchen, Julie heard what he said, and knew instinctively what Kerry was thinking. ‘Kerry Peterson, you’re all kinds of a fool!’ she muttered. ‘Let him get to you and, mark my words, you’ll live to regret it!’

  A short time later, Kerry searched her mother out. ‘I suppose you heard all that.’

  ‘Yes, and I think you’re foolish to listen to him.’

  ‘I’m no fool, Mother. I think I know what I’m doing.’

  Kerry had her coat on and Julie asked her where she was going.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ she answered. ‘I think it would be a nice treat if we had fish and chips tonight.’

  ‘Yes, I’d enjoy that.’

  ‘Mike and Susie are asleep. Let them sleep, but tell Jack I’ve gone for fish and chips. It might draw the little sod out of his room.’

  ‘He’s a troubled soul.’

  ‘No more than I am.’

  ‘Did you see the look that passed between them?’

  ‘Leave it be.’

  ‘I will. They won’t.’

  ‘I won’t be gone long, unless there’s a queue. Put the kettle on and slice some bread and butter. Oh, and we’ll have the chocolate gateau.’ She laughed. ‘We might as well push the boat out while we’re at it.’

  On her way out, she peeped into the lounge; they were still fast asleep, Mike sprawled out on the settee and Susie curled up in the curve of his arm. ‘There was a time when I would have done anything for you,’ she murmured, her gaze lingering on Mike’s handsome face. ‘But now I don’t know.’

  Subdued, she left the house.

  As always, Julie watched her go, surprised when Kerry turned the car left at the bottom of the road. ‘That’s funny,’ she muttered. ‘The fish and chip shop is the other way.’

  Shrugging her shoulders, she returned to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and began to cut the bread.

  Dr Carlton was a weary man. Too many long hours and a recent divorce had taken its toll, and he never went home without taking a mountain of work with him.

  ‘Goodnight, Doctor.’ Alice Henshaw was collecting a folder from the reception desk.

  ‘Goodnight.’ He turned up the collar of his coat, clutched the box of documents to his chest, and went out into a grim, dark evening.

  ‘Miserable bugger, isn’t he?’ commented Peggy Earl. She ran the canteen when she wasn’t hanging about the reception desk gathering the latest gossip. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.’

  ‘That’s because he’s got nothing to smile about,’ Alice explained. ‘His wife took him for a small fortune when they split, and he’s never forgiven her.’

  ‘Who are we talking about?’ Having delivered an urgent message to Sister, Nurse Beatty was back to finish her shift behind the desk.

  Cheeky as ever, Peggy answered, ‘I was just saying how Dr Carlton never smiles, and Nurse Henshaw said it was because his wife took him for a fortune when they split up.’

  ‘That’s true, yes, and on top of that nobody likes him, do they?’

  ‘I don’t mind him.’ Peggy looked for the best in everybody, ‘Besides, he’s the only one who likes my sausage rolls. Yesterday lunchtime he ate three, one after the other.’

  Alice laughed out loud. ‘That’s why he’s not smiling, poor devil. He’s probably crippled with indigestion.’

  ‘He’s certainly changed since he and his wife got divorced,’ Nurse Beatty said. ‘And then there’s this latest thing.’

  Alice was puzzled. ‘What latest thing?’

  ‘Well, there was that business last month when he gave out the wrong prescription and nearly killed a patient, and some time ago he blocked a proposed new wing for less serious patients – too much money, he argued, and he persuaded others to vote against it. That created even more bad feeling towards him.’

  ‘Yes, I know about all that,’ Alice said impatiently. ‘I thought you meant something more recent.’

  Nurse Beatty leaned forward. ‘I did. It has to do with Mike Peterson. Apparently some of the other doctors think he was released too soon. There’s already been an argument about it.’

  The news shocked Alice. ‘Why would Dr Carlton send him home if he wasn’t ready? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It’s all to do with these budgets, isn’t it?’ Peggy chipped in. ‘They’re always looking to see how they can save money.’

  Angered by what she had heard, Alice snapped at her, ‘I think you should get back to your work instead of hanging around here listening to things that don’t concern you.’

  ‘Oh my, Dr Carlton isn’t the only one who’s got the grumps,’ and with that Peggy flounced off.

  Nurse Beatty was surprised by Alice’s outburst. ‘That was a bit harsh, wasn’t it?’

  Alice shrugged, then left without saying another word.

  ‘Wonder what’s upset her?’ Dismissing the incident, Nurse Beatty resumed her duties. ‘I’ll be glad when the night shift arrive and I can get off home.’

  Dr Carlton parked his car in the driveway of his home. Clambering out, his gaze was drawn to the large water fountain in the central garden. ‘Damn!’ he swore. ‘Twice I’ve had the electrician out, and each time his back is turned, the damned thing fizzles out again!’

  Opening the back door of the car he leant in to retrieve his briefcase and black bag. He thought he heard something behind him and looked round but could see nothing. He wasn’t concerned. This was an isolated house, surrounded by woods and brooks and things that went bump in the night. He was used to it.

  He took out his briefcase and bag, kicked the door shut and walked the few paces to the fountain. Placing his things on the ground, he stood for a time looking at the fountain, his face wreathed in pleasure. T
his rare, expensive piece of art gave him the greatest pleasure. Carved out of stone, with a pool beneath and a tall, elegant mermaid sitting astride a leaping dolphin, it was a magnificent sight.

  ‘Can’t trust anybody these days,’ he grumbled, leaning over to see where the trouble might lie. ‘Cost me an arm and a leg, this did, and still they can’t seem to get the lights working as they should.’

  He heard the sound again, like a creature moving about in the undergrowth close by. ‘Foxes, I shouldn’t wonder,’ he mused. ‘Hunting for some poor helpless creature.’

  Rolling up his sleeves, he reached into the water and located the cable. He gave it a twiddle and the lights came on; a twinkling of soft rainbow colours shimmering against the water.

  He stepped back to admire the effect, and then swore when they went off yet again. ‘Damn and bugger it! Useless thing! I don’t know why I ever let her talk me into buying it!’ He gazed up at the face of the mermaid. ‘You are beautiful though, and you never answer back.’

  The sight of the mermaid’s face went with him to the grave.

  The intruder was on him before he realised. Incredibly strong fingers gripped him behind the neck, and one arm was pinned behind his back. He was thrust face down in the water, his free arm thrashing and flailing, but there was nothing to get hold of, only a fistful of water.

  In his dying moments he found the strength to turn his head. Looking up through the sheet of water, his eyes searched out his attacker and widened with astonishment as he recognised the face leering over him. ‘You…’ The water bubbled into his mouth and it was all over.

  In the half-light, the murderer lingered, staring down at that pitiful face. The disturbed water rippled across the dead features, distorting them out of all recognition. But the shocked eyes remained wide open, glazed with disbelief.

  The water became still, reflecting the dark, shadowy image of a murderer. But there was no one to see. No one to tell the tale.

  The soft echo of laughter filled the air, and then the sound of footsteps leaving.

  8

  Luke was deep in the woods when Rosie found him. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ Now she had found him, relief mellowed her anger. ‘Do you realise it’s three in the morning? Why didn’t you tell me you’d be out until the early hours? I woke up and there was no sign of you anywhere. For all I knew you could have been lying in some ditch with your throat cut.’

  Crouched low in the undergrowth, Luke looked at her; in the moonlight his face took on an eerie glow. ‘Go home,’ he told her. ‘I’m not a child.’

  ‘I wish to God you were!’ she retaliated. ‘I’d have some sort of control over you then.’

  ‘I don’t want you here.’

  Disturbed by his manner, Rosie grew suspicious. In a quiet, clear voice she demanded, ‘What are you up to?’

  His low, sinister laugh echoed through the woods. ‘I’ve been killing again.’ He leaped up and swung his arm at her before she could move out of the way. When the warm, sticky blood spattered on her neck and face she stumbled back, her horrified stare fixed on the furry creatures swinging from his wrist, their bright, dead eyes staring at her in the moonlight.

  ‘Now will you leave me alone?’ Luke screamed.

  Sickened by the stench of blood on her skin, Rosie turned and fled. With the moonlight already fading, darkness closed around her like a whispery black mantle. Blinded by panic, she crashed through the spinney at the mercy of overhanging branches which flicked and tore at her face and arms.

  Through the trees, she could hear his laughter. ‘He’s gone mad!’ she thought. ‘This time he really has lost his senses.’ Since he had learnt the truth about his father, Luke had changed from the son she knew and loved.

  Sometimes she found it hard to cope. If only she had Mike to help her, things could be so different. One day though, one day, in the not too distant future, he would be at her side. She knew that, and it made each day worth the wait.

  Behind her, low on the ground like a night predator, Luke worked feverishly. With his fingernails he dug into the soft earth, not satisfied until he had created a deep, round hole. Satisfied, he reached into the rotting trunk where he had stashed his secret and with a devious smile drew out the black leather bag, the sort a doctor might use.

  He peeped into the bag to satisfy himself the contents were intact and then peered about to make sure he was not seen before thrusting the bag into the hole. Another cautious glance, then he scraped the earth back into the hole, covering it over with grass and rotting leaves.

  Softly laughing, he grabbed up his prey and made his way home.

  The camper van was parked some two miles away, through the spinney and over the long meadow. Beside the stream, it nestled, unobserved, beneath the boughs of a weeping willow tree.

  Naked inside the van, Rosie was bent at the sink, washing and cursing. She scrubbed at her face until the skin grew red and raw. ‘The bastard!’ she muttered. ‘The rotten little bastard!’

  When at last she felt cleansed of the stain of blood, she towelled herself dry and covered her nakedness with a clean nightgown. She brushed her thick, wild auburn hair, twenty-one long, graceful strokes, the same as every night, and then laid down the brush and walked over to the tiny dresser.

  Looking in the mirror, she saw a face that was bright with punishment; not so young, and not as pretty as she would have liked, but strong and attractive all the same. ‘Will he still want you?’ she asked the image. ‘When the time comes, will he choose you above all others?’

  Since the day she had been forced to leave him at the hospital not a moment, not a breath or a heartbeat had passed without Mike being in her thoughts. ‘I should never have left you,’ she said to her mirror image as if talking to another person. ‘But they would have questioned us, and things might have got all mixed up, the way they do when police get involved. Especially where Luke is concerned.’ Her face clouded. ‘You see, Luke has been in trouble with the police before.’

  Suddenly she smiled, and the smile was incredibly lovely. ‘I did promise I’d come back,’ she whispered, ‘and I will. I’m much closer to you now.’ Crossing her arms over her breast, she leaned towards the mirror. ‘Can you sense my nearness?’ she asked softly. ‘Can you, Mike? Do you feel how much I love you?’ As she spoke, the tears ran freely down her face.

  Suddenly the door was flung open and Luke stood there. ‘One for the butcher and one for the pot.’ As he spoke he flung the two furry creatures on to the table; blood-stained and lifeless, they landed with a soft, stomach-churning thud, their heads only inches from Rosie’s arm. There was a split second of absolute silence before her piercing scream brought him rushing across the room to clamp his hand over her mouth. ‘For God’s sake! What the hell’s wrong with you?’

  Fighting him off, Rosie yelled, ‘Get them out of here!’ Mesmerised, she could not look away from them – the dead, flat eyes staring up at her, reminding her of another time, another pair of eyes.

  Looking into her face, Luke knew. ‘Ah! The eyes, the way they stare at you. Remind you of Eddie, do they?’ Pushing her aside, he laughed cruelly. ‘Now I understand.’

  Slowly, Rosie backed away. Flattening herself against the side of the wardrobe, she pleaded with him, ‘Take them away… please, Luke… take them away.’

  The rabbits’ heads hung over the edge of the table, crimson blood trickling over their faces and on to the floor. ‘Women!’ Disgusted by her reaction, Luke stamped his foot over the stain on the rug, snatched up the creatures and returned to the night.

  Rosie made no move for a long time. She remained frozen, pressed against the wardrobe, her gaze fixed on the spot where Luke had stamped his foot; the stain was misshapen, like a child’s attempt at painting.

  Moving forward, she took up two sides of the rug and folded it in on itself. Carefully, she carried it to the door, which Luke had left open, and gingerly tipped the carpet down the steps and watched it roll across the ground. Coming
to rest against the foot of the steps, it remained upside down, the stain out of sight, but not out of mind.

  Much later, when the skies were lightening, she heard him return.

  From her bunk she heard him unlock the door of the camper van. She waited with bated breath while he closed the door and, after a moment, mounted the makeshift ladder which led to his bunk.

  There was no sound of water or washing. A creature of nature, Luke always washed in the streams. He had done that since he was a small boy.

  Rosie fell into uneasy sleep and woke to the sound of the birds outside her window. Peeping through one eye at the clock, she was astounded to see it was already gone eight.

  She scrambled out of bed. ‘Luke!’ she called. Her sleep had been restless, with scenes of blood and mayhem, and Luke always at the centre. ‘Wake up, Luke. It’s gone eight!’

  Small sounds emitted from his bunk. So he was still there, she thought. These days she never knew where he was, or what he was up to.

  Annoyed that the best part of a day was already gone, Rosie washed and dressed, and threw open the curtains. There had been a downpour in the night. The leaves were still dripping, and the grass shone like silk. She lingered for a while, her gaze softening as she gazed on the scene before her.

  Mentally shaking herself, she set about cooking breakfast. It wasn’t long before the air was filled with the warm aroma of frying bacon and brewing coffee.

  ‘Smells good, Mum.’ Pushing aside the heavy curtain that separated the cooking and sleeping areas, Luke strolled in. Hair unkempt and face unshaven, he looked a sorry mess. ‘Why didn’t you wake me earlier?’

  Turning the bacon, Rosie said, ‘Who would wake you if I wasn’t here?’

  He laughed in that irritating way he had. ‘I’d have to get myself a woman.’

  He was a handsome young man with a strong physique, but it broke her heart to see how he was letting himself go. ‘She would need to be a special woman to take you on the way you are,’ she retorted.

  ‘Oh? And what’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You have no pride in yourself any more. You scrape a living by killing and selling rabbits, and you have no purpose in your life. What woman would put up with that?’