Meg saw several things that concerned her. But when a place is your home, when you’re a youngster without a say in things, you have to put up with it. So it was with Meg. She watched and learned, as her hatred for Gary grew.
Meg once looked on with horror as he spilled his hot drink on Hazel Lomax, a plain, overweight girl whom Gary seemed to actively dislike. Hazel was always running away. The police would be involved, tracking her down, but she’d always be found in the same place: at her mother’s bedside in the Sunny View psychiatric hospital in Bristol. It wasn’t the best escape plan on earth, but Hazel always returned to where she felt loved. To her mother.
Meg didn’t know if Hazel even had a father. She’d only ever heard her talk about her mother. She’d had some sort of breakdown and never recovered. She needed a lot of supervision and Hazel had become a young carer. When she’d finally been discovered by social services, prompted only by her absence from school rather than the fact that she’d been left caring for her mum, the household had reached breaking point. Hazel’s mother was covered in bedsores and was so dirty that she’d developed a form of dermatitis. Her hair was a mat of grease and dirt. Hazel had done the best that she could, but was simply too ill equipped to cope after her mother’s recent problems.
Her reward for doing the best that she could with her mother was to be placed in the Woodlands Edge children’s home. She was not sufficiently pleasing on the eye to be taken at night, so Gary just made her life hell in the home. Every time she ran away, he’d be seen to go through the routines of paperwork, care plans and sessions with the counsellor, but Hazel’s unauthorised trips to see her mother would always be followed up by a mysterious accident.
It shocked Meg the first time that she saw this happen. She watched as Gary placed his foot in front of Hazel so that she fell hard on the floor while carrying a tray laden with her dinner and pudding. He then forced her to clean up the mess on her hands and knees until the floor was spotless, all in front of a crowded dining room of youngsters. He told her how clumsy she was, how careless and unaware of her surroundings she’d been. Hazel silently took her punishment. She must have been desperate to see her mother, knowing that such a humiliation would be the result.
It was only Bob who came to her aid, helping her clean the pile of food off the floor.
‘Leave her, Mr Taylor!’ Gary had warned. ‘Hazel is clumsy and needs to learn the consequences of her actions.’
Gary was never one to miss out on an educational opportunity.
‘Surely we can help the poor girl to clean up the mess? It won’t take a few minutes. I’m happy to do it—’
‘Thank you, Mr Taylor. Your concern is appreciated. We wouldn’t want to deny Hazel a chance to take responsibility, would we? It’s so important to own up to our mistakes in life, wouldn’t you say?’
Bob looked at him. Meg could see that there was something else going on here: a warning to Bob. He backed off, waiting at a nearby table until Hazel had been released from her punishment. He rushed straight over to the sobbing girl, offering what comfort he could. Gary seemed to have some power over him – he seemed to have a hold over all of the adults working in the home, either that or they were in collusion, part of ‘Gary’s team’, as the children described it. But Bob was undoubtedly one of the good guys.
Two of the boys also came in for particular attention from Gary. They were good kids, a couple of mates, David and Jacob. They were well grown and looked like men already even though they were in their early teens. Gary viewed boys as a potential threat. He made every effort to subdue them before they became too strong. If they became powerful men, they might challenge his authority.
Gary was not a big man, but when he entered a room he exuded power and dominance. He soon broke the boys; he ensured they were taken at night. Meg had known that something was going on soon after she entered the home. There would be hushed conversations, quiet taps on doors, and then reluctant shuffling. Meg would wake to hear them returning in the early hours. Sometimes she’d hear sobbing, but always it was there, Gary’s quiet and controlling voice.
Meg liked David. She took an immediate shine to him. He was funny, bright and gentle. There was a spark between Hannah and Jacob too, and the youngsters would often sit at the same table in the dining room, chatting and laughing. Sometimes the boys’ faces would light up as if they’d forgotten everything else that was going on in their lives. Meg loved it when they could forget, when they could pretend that theirs was just a regular life.
David was a little older than Meg, Jacob one year older than Hannah. As they grew up, the group became closer. In the room that they shared, Hannah and Meg would often talk to each other about the boys. They treated them as brothers: living at Woodlands Edge, all of the kids felt like your brother or sister in some way, but with David and Jacob there was something special. They made a great little gang.
Gary would often pull a chair up to their table if they were laughing and eating. The conversation would stop. He’d eat with them in silence, clean his plate and say something like, ‘Hannah and Meg are going to enjoy meeting Mr Black, don’t you think?’
Jacob was sick at the table the first time he said this. Gary was always mentioning Mr Black, and it would bring the same response from the boys. Their eyes would deaden, and they’d go to their rooms, unwilling to chat anymore.
Meg knew that the boys were troubled by something, but they wouldn’t say what it was. They compartmentalised their lives. They were happy to talk and laugh about teenage things – pop music, TV, school, their favourite books – but they would clam up if Meg or Hannah tried to draw them on what was happening at night.
And then it happened to Hannah. They’d been asleep. Earlier they’d been in the TV room having a good laugh at one of the groups on Top of the Pops. It had been a good evening – on nights like that living in a home with a group of kids your own age was almost better than regular life. Meg had been sleeping soundly when she was woken by movement in the room. At first she thought that Hannah was visiting the toilet, but there was somebody else in there with them. It was Gary Maxwell. He was telling Hannah to get dressed. They were going on a late-night journey.
Meg lay still, pretending to be asleep. She could hear other youngsters getting ready along the corridor. She saw Jacob walk past their bedroom door fully dressed. He looked empty, not the Jacob she knew. Hannah was protesting, asking questions, wondering what was happening. Gary instructed her to be quiet.
‘If you wake up Meg, it’ll be worse for you. Do as you’re told. Get dressed and wait outside with the others.’
Meg could sense the tension. She wanted to get up and intervene, but she knew what Gary was like. She daren’t.
Hannah and Gary left the room. The door was quietly closed and she heard the small group making their way down the stairs. There was the distinctive sound of the diesel engine as the minibus used by the staff at the home was started up. Doors slammed and the vehicle drove off. Meg rushed to her window to look. She caught sight of Hannah, Jacob and three other older children from the home. They were sitting in silence in the minibus, and she could see even from that distance that there was no teenage chatter in there. She didn’t recognise the man who was driving, and there was no other adult in the vehicle.
Meg wondered where Hannah was being taken. She knew that it wasn’t good. To Mr Black probably, whoever he was. She lay in bed, fearful for her friend. She fell asleep, but was disturbed a few hours later by the sound of Hannah coming back into the room. She didn’t get undressed, but took off her shoes and climbed into bed. Then she began to sob, quietly. Even from across the room, Meg could sense her body tensing and shaking.
Hannah had promised to protect Meg when she’d first entered the home, but Meg now realised that this was not going to be possible. There was nothing that Hannah could do to save her. It wouldn’t be long until Meg was being taken at night too. Meg slipped out of her bed, walked silently across the room and slipped into bed alongs
ide Hannah. There was no conversation. Meg moved in close and held her friend tight, saying nothing.
Steven Terry’s show was a complete eye-opener for me. I’d seen advertisements for clairvoyants in the newspapers, assuming them to be aimed at old ladies and the gullible, but it was a great show. Steven was a fabulous entertainer, a real force on stage, and he had me completely captivated for the two hours that he was performing.
There was something about him – I couldn’t put my finger on it. The journalist in me wanted to question everything that was going on. I scrutinised every sentence, wondering if what he was saying could apply to anybody. Whatever was happening on that stage, he was reaching people and connecting with them in way that I’d never experienced before.
There were tears, there was joy, there were moments of tension and revelation. He moved among the crowd, a camera following him so that he could be seen on the large screens at all times. His face looked huge – you could see everything. I saw a scar on his cheek. I’d never noticed that before. It was concealed by the light growth of stubble that he sustained at all times. I’d assumed that to be a small vanity, part of the image. I wondered now if it was there to conceal the scar.
I searched for signs of dishonesty and deception, but Steven Terry seemed completely genuine. He was either an excellent actor or, as I was beginning to realise, he believed passionately in his gift. Whatever was happening at Blackpool’s Winter Gardens that night, it was a force for good, not evil. People left that place feeling inspired and elated; there was nothing destructive in what he was doing.
‘What do you think?’ I asked Alex in the bar during the interval.
‘He’s good, I’ll give him that!’ she answered, taking a sip of her red wine.
‘I always wrote him off in the past. He was in and out of the radio station doing interviews for this, that and the other. In fact, I’d even go as far as to say that I despised him. But I think he’s onto something. I don’t believe that it’s paranormal or anything like that, but he has a gift, that’s for sure.’
‘I’ve said no to the offer,’ Alex said out of the blue. ‘While you were peeing, I got back to my agent. I’m not doing that new show.’
Alex had come away with a couple of new offers while she’d been visiting her agent in London. She’d rejected one immediately. The money involved made my eyes water. She’d earn as much as I did in one year for two months’ work. They’d wanted her to co-present a show called Britain’s Talented Babies. Her co-presenter was going to be some guy who was twenty-four and had been in the papers for having fathered nine children with six women. I couldn’t blame her for turning that one down, but the money was amazing. We’d never discussed how much she earned before, but I knew that it would make me want to cry. When you’re earning six figures per contract, and all your clothing and day-to-day expenses are being taken care of, you can accrue a lot of money very quickly.
The show that she’d just knocked back was a new version of Crime Beaters, which one of the satellite-only channels wanted to create. They knew that if Alex was at the helm it would get the programme established immediately. They’d offered her twice her regular payment per episode to join the show for season one. The money was ridiculous. I was in the wrong game working in radio. She’d thought hard about that one. I’d sensed the gears in her mind grinding while Steven Terry was doing his thing on stage.
‘I’m taking a break,’ she continued. ‘I’m going to stay away from TV for a while. I can take the house in Spain for another six months, and I might even think about buying out there. But I want to do something different. I’m going to make it a sabbatical.’
The announcements started, letting us know that we needed to make our way back to our seats. We hung back, knowing that if we returned to our places too soon, we’d be up and down making way for everybody else in the row to get to their seats.
The second part of the show was just as entertaining. I was astonished when he called out a woman for having an affair. She was sitting with her husband, and it all got a bit tense for a while as the audience – myself included – wondered where he was going with it. It turned out the bloke was gay and had been hiding it all of his life. On some level his wife had known – hence the affair. It was remarkable how skilfully Steven turned the situation around. The guy got a standing ovation for admitting that he was gay. He loved his wife dearly but had been attracted to men for as long as he could remember. She loved him but had sensed there was something wrong. They were about to be whisked away, crying but hugging each other, to a five-star hotel in the resort.
‘Let’s give this lovely couple some time to talk and make peace with their new lives. Ladies and gentlemen, what happened here might seem dangerous to you, it might feel like we’ve shaken this couple’s life to the core, but, believe me, although their love for each other will live on, their lives will be happy now. They will both find the peace that they’ve been craving.’
There were cheers, a massive round of applause. The couple were a few rows down from us. Steven had them standing in the aisle while they were talking. As applause thundered through the auditorium, Steven turned and caught my eye. He looked as if he’d been hit by a bus. He walked up to me, the applause beginning to fade. He switched off his radio microphone and moved in close.
‘Peter. Peter Bailey. I sensed that you were here tonight. Come and see me after the show in my dressing room. Ask for Carlos backstage. I have to speak to you.’
He stood up, switched his microphone back on and said, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have another round of applause for our lovely couple, Edward and Louise!’
He milked the applause until he was back on the stage, and then moved the show into the finale.
‘What was that about?’ Alex whispered.
‘He wants us to see him after show. Remember Carlos. We need to speak to Carlos backstage.’
‘Ooh, look who’s a friend to the stars now, Pete Bailey!’
She pushed me playfully, but I wasn’t feeling particularly humorous about it. Steven hadn’t yet revealed the audience member who was surrounded by demons, unless he’d meant Edward and Louise, but I thought not. That’s not the way he’d played their story. I had a nasty feeling that he’d just found his guy, only whatever he wanted to say to me needed to be private, it was not for the audience.
I was anxious for the show to end after that, desperate to know what he wanted to tell me. He’d been right twice before about all the shit in my life. There couldn’t be any more left, surely?
After the show, as the buzzing audience slowly made its way out of the Winter Gardens, Alex and I sought out Carlos. As a radio journalist, I was used to doing this. People think that celebrities are inaccessible, but you can usually get to them via the network of support staff that are always around, should you care to look for them.
Carlos had clearly been briefed to expect us. He showed us into Steven’s dressing room.
‘Peter – I beg your pardon, you prefer Pete – and Alex too, what a lovely surprise! Your scar is healing well now, Pete. I hear that you had quite a time at the hands of that couple. I’m so pleased that it all turned out as well as it could for you.’
How did he know about the Peter thing? Had I told him that? I couldn’t remember. And things hadn’t turned out that well, the way I saw it.
‘Good show tonight, Steven,’ I said, shaking his hand as if he were an old pal. There’s something about seeing familiar people in unfamiliar places that makes you more friendly towards them. That’s how I felt with Steven Terry that night.
With the pleasantries out of the way, Steven got straight to business.
‘I’m so sorry about what happened, Pete. I read about it in the newspapers, of course, but I had a premonition that it was going happen when we met the last time.’
‘You were right again, Steven. I don’t know how you do it, but you were bang on.’
‘I had a strong sense from the minute I walked out on that stage tonigh
t that you were here. There’s something about you, Pete, something in your life that’s very strong. I called it a demon on the stage, but of course there are no such things as demons. They come to us in human form.’
Silence, for a moment. He did this on stage. It worked well. He left his words hanging. Was this just more showbiz?
‘I said it before, Pete, and I’ll say it again. You have to make very careful choices about the women in your life. There is a demon among them. She is still around, Pete, I’m sorry to tell you. In spite of all that has happened to you in your past, the real demon is still in your life.’
‘What do you mean by demon, Steven? You keep using that word, but what does it mean in human terms?’ Alex asked. She was as riveted by this as I was.
‘You’re quite right, Alex. I need to explain. I call them demons, but they are just people who walk among us. They are dangerous. They seduce us, mislead us, make us stray from our path and undermine us. At worst, they can be pure evil. You have known plenty of that already, Pete, but I’m sorry, there is more to come.’
If Steven Terry had looked as if he’d been hit by a bus earlier, it was my turn now. All my previous troubles had been predicted by this man, and here he was again telling me it still wasn’t over.
‘There can’t be more to come, Steven? It must be over now. I can’t take any more.’
I wanted to cry. I honestly thought I was going to start crying. I felt so worn out by it all. I hadn’t realised how exhausted it had made me.
‘I’m sorry, Pete. I have told you before: this ability of mine ... it can be as much a curse as it is a gift. But I felt it the minute I walked out on that stage tonight. I’m sorry, Pete. There is a demon in your life who has yet to be banished. It is this demon that you must fight if you are going to have lasting peace in your life. I’m so sorry, Pete, but it’s not over yet.’
Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set Page 52
