Mike hurried to the bed, his hands reaching out to still Jack. ‘Ssh! I’m here,’ he whispered soothingly. ‘You’re having a bad dream. No one’s going to hurt you.’
Jack’s eyes jerked open. On seeing it was Mike, he opened his mouth to scream, but Mike quietened him. ‘I’ll go now if you want me to,’ he said. ‘I was just passing and I heard you cry out.’
It hurt him to look at his son and see the fear in that small, white face. Covered in a film of sweat, the face was twitching. ‘I want you to go away.’ Jack’s wide, stark eyes betrayed a terror that no child should experience.
‘All right, I’m going now. Try and sleep.’ He wanted to take the boy in his arms and comfort him, but he knew if he did it would only frighten him more.
When he got to the door, a small, trembling voice made him pause. ‘I’m sorry I lied.’
Mike looked back. ‘It’s all right, son.’
‘I suppose you want to kill me.’
Shocked, Mike went to him. ‘Good God, no! What makes you think that?’
‘I dreamed you chased me. You wanted to hurt me… because I lied.’
‘I would never hurt you. But tell me, why did you lie?’ Encouraged by their conversation, Mike sat on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes fixed on that pathetic little face.
Silence.
‘Were you afraid they might think you were crazy and lock you away?’
Sullenness.
‘I’m sorry I was away for such a long time, Jack, but if you had told them the truth, I might never have been made to leave you.’
‘I won’t tell!’ Sliding under the covers, only his big, frightened eyes could be seen peeping over the top.
‘There’s no use in telling now,’ Mike said. ‘I’m home and it’s over. You don’t have to worry.’
The boy stared at him. ‘Won’t I ever need to tell… about when the skies ate them up and they never came back?’
Mike shook his head. ‘Not if you don’t want to.’
‘And you’re not angry?’ The small face visibly relaxed.
‘No, I’m not angry. It doesn’t matter what the others think, does it, Jack?’
‘No.’
‘We know what we saw, and they don’t. So it might be better if we make it our little secret. What do you think?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘And do you believe I don’t want to hurt you?’
Silence.
‘Jack! You do believe that, don’t you?’
‘In my dream you wanted to hurt me.’
‘That was just a dream.’ Mike stood up. ‘I have dreams too,’ he confessed. ‘But dreams can’t hurt you.’ Making Jack comfortable, he asked, ‘Would you like me to leave the big light on?’
‘No.’
‘Goodnight then, son.’
‘Goodnight. Daddy?’
‘Yes, son?’
‘Where did they go?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Will they ever come back?’
‘I don’t know that either.’ The memory flitted across his mind, making him tremble. ‘Go to sleep now, and remember, it’s our secret.’
Softly, he closed the door and glanced towards the main bedroom at the other end of the landing. ‘Can’t go in yet,’ he murmured. ‘There’s no tiredness in me.’ To lie alongside Kerry, wanting and not having, was a torment he did not enjoy.
Quietly he went downstairs, through the kitchen, then outside, where he lit a cigarette and forgave himself for this lapse. ‘I’ll give them up tomorrow.’ He drew deeply. Then he blew out the smoke in a succession of perfectly shaped hollows. ‘Or maybe I won’t give them up at all,’ he smiled. This was the first cigarette he had smoked since leaving the hospital. He knew it would not be the last.
The boy’s confession had woken bad feelings in him. That was when he found it most difficult to cope, when the bad feelings threatened to overwhelm him.
Agitated, he walked to the garden bench and sat down. The cold dampness made him gasp. He drew again on the cigarette, his gaze lifted to the skies – heavy with the promise of snow. It was a beautiful evening all the same. Beneath his feet rotting leaves made a crisp, uneven carpet, and all around the air was curiously quiet, hung with the dry, musty smell that preceded the dawn.
He began to relax, then stiffened when he heard a noise from the undergrowth. Curiosity rippled through him. Then a sense of fear.
He laughed softly. ‘You’re safe enough here,’ he told himself.
But his instincts told him otherwise.
He grew chilly and made his way back to the house where he planned to enjoy a whisky and a hot bath before going to bed.
Outside the back door, he took his last drag of the cigarette. Bending to stub it out in a flower pot, he suddenly felt a shiver run through his blood. ‘Mike… I’m here…’ The eerie whisper washed by him like a gentle breeze. ‘Don’t be afraid.’
Shocked, he swung round, burning his fingers on the tip of the cigarette. ‘Who’s there?’ Peering into the darkness he thought he saw a shadow.
‘It’s only me.’
Deeply shaken, Mike took a step forward. ‘Come out where I can see you!’ He had always suspected they might be watching him, and now he knew.
The silence thickened.
‘Don’t hide from me.’ Fear trembled through him.
‘I must go now.’
The rustle of leaves underfoot brought his attention to the darkest corner of the garden. ‘No! Don’t go,’ he pleaded. ‘We should talk.’ Softly, so as not to frighten, he approached. ‘Why are you here? What do you want from me?’
There was no answer. Whoever it was had fled into the spinney.
Cautiously at first, Mike followed.
It was dark in the spinney, but he knew every track, every hide-out; before he was put away, he and the children used to play the hiding game in these woods. A person could disappear in here and never be found. ‘Don’t run away,’ he whispered. ‘Tell me what you want with me.’
Aware that someone was very near, he stood perfectly still, listening so intently he could hear his own heart beating.
The silence was tangible, like the night. All around him the trees formed a guard of keepers, a stark reminder of the prison he had lived in for the past three years.
Panic took hold, closing his throat so he could hardly breathe. Gasping for air, he wanted to run out of the darkness and into the open, but he dared not move; could not. Trapped by his own fears, he stood transfixed, frantic eyes peering into the darkness.
It seemed an age before he heard a sound, the softest, quickest sound, only an arm’s reach away – and there it was! A dark, shapeless thing, making good its escape. ‘No! Wait!’ Excited now, he pursued it through the woods and along the lake, his feet slipping and sliding as he ran over the soft, muddy ground. There was a thrilling moment when he thought he could reach out and take hold of his tormentor, but then he was alone, lost in the dark, with only moonlight on the water to guide him home.
When he got back to the kitchen, he found Kerry waiting for him. ‘I woke up and you weren’t there.’ She eyed him with suspicion. ‘I wondered where you’d gone.’ Her curious gaze went from the jagged tears on his shirt to the mud on his shoes. ‘What happened to you?’ Fear marbled her voice.
‘There was… something out there, in the garden.’ Going to the sink he washed the sweat from his hands and face. ‘I went after it.’
‘What was it?’
Drying himself, Mike shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t get close enough to see.’ He didn’t want to talk about it.
‘Mike?’
He peered at her over the towel. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you… all right?’ She could hardly look him in the eye.
He laughed softly. ‘You mean, am I going crazy again? Did I just imagine it?’ Murderous anger fired through him.
‘No. I meant exactly what I said, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ he said.
His grin was sheer delight. ‘You did?’
She nodded, eyes smiling. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘I did.’
He saw the desire in her eyes and was thrilled. ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘No.’ Tantalisingly, she licked his lips. ‘I’m sure I’ll regret it in the morning.’
Her answer made him smile. ‘I hope not,’ he murmured. This was a moment to cherish, he thought. Who knows? There may never come another. ‘I love you.’ Ever so tenderly, he kissed her.
‘I know you do,’ she answered softly. That was why she had to give their marriage every chance. That was why she tried so hard to put Steve out of her heart. It wasn’t easy, and in the end she might not be able to give him up. But, for now, she needed loving, and Mike was here, warm and willing.
Hand in hand they went upstairs.
From her room, Julie heard them making love.
Long after they had grown silent she lay awake. ‘I saw you,’ she whispered, ‘out there, calling to the night like the madman you are.’ Her eyes glittered with hatred. ‘You may be worming your way into her affections, but I know you, Mike Peterson. I’m watching your every move.’
Sleepy now, she snuggled beneath the bedclothes. ‘I promise you,’ her gaze shifted to the door, ‘before I let you hurt this family, I’ll see you in hell!’
The nurses’ residence was not too far away from the hospital. A proud, worn remnant from Victorian times, it nestled behind a high wall off the main street.
At this late hour, there were few lights burning in the tall, narrow windows. Late-shift nurses were working, and the ones who had already delivered a full shift were too bone-tired to stay up late, so they went to bed and slept the sleep of the righteous.
The breeze had gathered in strength until now it blew leaves and bracken before it. And one lone figure.
The figure was that of Nurse Alice Henshaw. She seemed greatly agitated as she rushed in through the main entrance. Hurrying up the stairs, she hoped no one would see her come home so late.
But she was out of luck. Her house-mate, Sally Jenkins, was tucked up on the settee with a bag of sweets and a book; the television was on low, so she didn’t hear Alice come in. But she saw her as she tried to sneak into the kitchen. ‘Oh, Alice, there you are!’
Alice swung round. ‘Sally!’ Lying came easily. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
Sally followed her into the kitchen. ‘You’re out late, aren’t you?’
Alice inwardly groaned, though her ready smile did not betray her feelings. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ She wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
Sally noticed how unkempt Alice was, and her shoes were covered in mud. ‘Look at you,’ she laughed. ‘I was about to ask if you’d had a good time but now I can see you have. What did he do, roll you over in the mud? Kinky, was it?’ She laughed so much she almost choked on a barley twist.
Alice played along. ‘No, it wasn’t kinky,’ she answered. ‘Just… different.’ She giggled wickedly, hoping Sally would leave her alone.
‘Sounds interesting.’ Heaving herself on to a stool, Sally winked. ‘Want to tell me about it?’
‘No, I don’t. So bugger off and let me get cleaned up.’
‘Is it anybody I know?’ Curiosity was her middle name.
‘No. Now do as I ask, and bugger off.’
Realising she was not wanted, Sally clambered off the stool. ‘See you in the morning,’ she sighed resignedly, ‘when you’re in a better mood.’
When Sally had gone, Alice made her way upstairs where she bathed and got ready for bed. But she was too agitated for sleep.
Restless as a cat, she walked back and forth, her bare feet padding the carpet and her flimsy nightgown billowing as she walked. Her hair was washed and shining, and her pretty eyes bright from the evening’s excitement. Her pale skin was prickled by the cold air that came in through the window, yet she made no attempt to close it. She didn’t seem to mind, didn’t seem to feel it. What she felt was a sense of loss, and it was eating her alive.
Suddenly she stopped pacing and stood with her back to the wardrobe, her stricken eyes staring across the room at a small framed photograph beside her bed. It was a group picture, of all the nurses and patients at last year’s Christmas party. The original picture was hanging in the dayroom at the hospital, alongside all the others taken over the years. Alice had wanted a copy of this one, ‘Because it’s my first Christmas here,’ she’d explained. No one questioned her reason. No one knew of her obsession with Mike – except for Sally who was a busybody but never a telltale. Besides, in her longer nursing career, she had seen it all before.
After a while Alice crossed the room to her bed. Taking the photograph into her hands, she fondled it, like a woman might fondle a lover. Tears ran down her face as she gazed at the face in the centre. ‘I miss you,’ she whispered. ‘I want you so much. She’s not for you. You were mine, and she took you away.’
Carefully, she took the picture out of the frame. Creasing it on either side of the face, she tore it from top to bottom, so she had a strip showing only those familiar features – Mike’s features.
Kissing it lovingly, she placed his picture under her pillow and climbed into bed, her fingers curled round the strip as she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
In the quietness her voice was like that of a spoiled, angry child. ‘I don’t want to hurt her,’ it murmured, ‘but I don’t know how much longer I can wait.’
Part 3
1984
Secrets Will Out
10
Rosie was pegging out the washing when she saw Luke coming out of the woods. He had a string of fish on his belt and a sack over his shoulder. ‘Poaching again!’ Rosie feared that one sorry day Luke himself would be brought home strung over somebody’s shoulder. ‘Have you no sense? You know how keen the landowners are to catch the poachers – shoot first and ask questions later, that’s what they were saying down at the pub.’
‘The landowners aren’t wily enough to catch me.’
‘Don’t get too clever, son. They have their ways. What’s more, the law is on their side, and the last thing we need is to get tangled up with the law.’
Throwing down his catch, Luke sat on the van steps, arrogant as ever. ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said with a sly grin. ‘I’ve hammered out a good deal today.’
Knowing how foolhardy he was, Rosie’s nerves tingled. ‘What kind of deal?’
‘Never you mind. But if anybody gets shot by the gamekeepers, it won’t be me.’
Striding over to him, she demanded, ‘I want to know, Luke. What kind of deal?’
‘You’re a nosy devil.’ Plucking a piece of grass, he tore at it with his teeth. ‘I don’t have to tell you everything.’
Feigning indifference, she returned to her washing. ‘OK. Please yourself.’ She knew he would tell her in time, especially if she pretended she didn’t care whether he told her or not. ‘I haven’t got time to chat. Some of us have got work to do.’
Her instincts proved right; when she went to pass him with the wash basket, he casually remarked, ‘Me and Bob Willet have come to an understanding.’
She stared at him. ‘Bob Willet? Isn’t he the warden from the Sorenson Estate?’
‘The very one.’ He grinned. ‘He fetches me the goods and I dispose of them. That way we both win. He gets half the proceeds and nobody’s any the wiser. All he has to do is claim it was a poacher. I’ve got a ready buyer, and he knows how to keep his mouth shut.’ Pleased with himself, his grin widened. ‘Clever, don’t you think?’
Irritated, Rosie pushed by. ‘You’re an arrogant bugger, that’s what I think, and it’ll serve the pair of you right if you’re caught and locked up for a good stretch.’
He followed her into the camper. ‘You don’t mean that.’
; She looked at him consideringly, his lanky figure and baby eyes and the way he had of worming his way into her heart, even when she wanted to throttle him. But, good or bad, he was her son and, for the moment, God help her, all she had in the world.
Taken aback by her seeming lack of compassion, he said, ‘I know I’ve not been the best of sons, but you’ve not been the best mother either.’
She nodded. ‘I know that.’
‘So don’t be hard on me, eh? We both do the best we can. Isn’t that the truth of it?’
She bowed her head. ‘Yes, son.’ She sighed. ‘That’s the truth of it.’
‘And you wouldn’t really want to see me locked up, would you?’
She laughed. ‘For a while maybe, until you mended your ways.’ Catching a whiff of him, she swung her basket at his head. ‘Phew! You stink rotten! Get them clothes off and wash yourself. How many times have I told you about fetching the smell of death in here?’
Protecting his head with his arms, he backed away. ‘All right! All right! No need to split my head open, woman.’ In two strides he was out of the door and down the steps. ‘I’ll wash when I get back. I’d best get this lot down to the pub. The landlord’s waiting, money at the ready, and if I don’t collect it, somebody else a bit quicker off the mark might do it for me.’
Slinging the sack over his shoulder, he went away whistling.
* * *
It was gone two in the morning when Rosie heard the commotion outside. Having been restless because Luke wasn’t yet back, she had only just drifted into a fitful sleep.
When the footsteps stumbled up the steps, she suspected it might be him, though it didn’t sound like him. ‘Is that you, Luke?’ Sitting up in bed, she lit the lamp and peered towards the door, her heart bumping. What if it wasn’t him? What if it was a ruffian looking for an easy target? Or, worse still, the police.
‘Answer me, Luke, you bugger!’ When there was no answer, she scrambled out of bed and went softly across the room. ‘What the devil are you playing at?’ Taking up a thick stick used for propping open the door on sunnier days, she flung it open, crying out when he fell inside. ‘You’re bloody drunk!’ she wailed. ‘Get out of here!’ Incensed, she bent to push him down the steps, when suddenly she noticed blood on his face. ‘Oh my God, Luke, what have you been up to now?’ Instinctively, her eyes went to the night outside but she could see no one.
Hiding Game, The Page 11
