Don't Tell Meg Trilogy Box Set

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘I can feel that there are others here who have also come tonight because of what happened at the Woodlands Edge children’s home. Are you happy to make yourselves known to me?’

  Two hands went up in front of me, and two women and a bloke hesitantly raised their hands behind us.

  ‘You people were involved in the home in some way. Madam, you were a cook there. Sir, I can sense a terrible sadness in you. You were a child there. And madam, you too were a child there. You knew each other, I think ...’

  The audience members were not sitting together. They’d come with their partners. They were looking around, trying to figure out if they knew each other. It had been many years since their time in the home. There was a buzz among the audience. This was an interesting story. We were all wondering where Steven Terry was going next.

  But it was the audience who took the initiative, rather than Steven. Like me, the people whom Steven had identified were looking at the first man that he had picked out. The reluctant one. I was certain that I’d seen his face before, but I couldn’t work out where. One of the audience members put me out of my misery.

  ‘That’s Ray Matiz!’ he shouted.

  Damn it, yes, that’s who it was. I’d not really taken much notice of the name until he’d been mentioned by Charlie Lucas earlier, but I recognised him straight away. He’d been one of the men photographed in the old newspapers that we found at the home. He’d lost his long hair and moustache. His head was close shaved now. The glasses were deceptive as well. He was wearing a pair that were much more understated than those in the old newspaper photos from the nineties. But it was definitely a much older Ray Matiz. And he was looking extremely uncomfortable.

  ‘You bastard, Matiz!’ one of the women shouted. ‘You stole our innocence!’

  ‘This man is a bloody criminal!’ the man shouted from behind me. Ray Matiz stood up and started making his way along the row of seats, trying to get out. A man stood up as Ray tried to pass, hitting him in the stomach. Steven Terry tried to restore calm. It had all got away from him in a matter of seconds. It was turning into a brawl. It felt as if the entire audience was shouting at Ray, although it must have been just a vocal minority.

  His face was bloodied by the time he made it to the end of the row. Steven was doing his best to calm things down, and eventually Ray made his escape out of a fire exit at the back of the auditorium. I’d never seen anything like it. Alex was speechless too. Never in my life had I seen a crowd turn so ugly so quickly. What a terrible night for Steven. A second terrible night for the poor guy.

  Steven was trying to take the heat out of the situation, and the police arrived shortly afterwards, prompted by the Winter Gardens staff. I tried to clock the people who’d been shouting at Ray Matiz, but it was a sea of unfamiliar faces. Some of those people would have known Meg.

  The show was over. It had degenerated into a complete mess. The police wanted to speak to people in the audience to get an idea of what had gone on. Steven made himself available to talk to audience members and sign autographs. It was the best anyone could do, given the circumstances. He’d lit a firework, Steven must have known that, and it had gone off in his hand.

  He was trying to smile and be as genial as he could, but I could tell as I looked at him from across the theatre that he was worried. At last the crowd dispersed. Alex and I had been hanging back, waiting for him to see off the last fan.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Steven. You’re not going to want to do a show in Blackpool again!’ I said as we walked over.

  He looked tired.

  ‘I’ll take the words out of your mouth, Pete. I really didn’t see that one coming.’

  It was a joke that I didn’t want to make. It had been amusing the previous day, but not now. I didn’t want to kick the man when he was down.

  ‘This is terrible, Pete. And Alex. I have just killed a man. Not with my own hands, but that man is going to be dead by the end of the day.’

  ‘Come on, Steven. You’re tired. He’s fine, he got out okay. He probably went straight back home and closed the door.’

  ‘No, I saw a darkness in him. He came tonight to see what I knew. He was scared – of me and what I might reveal. I didn’t understand that, not when I first spoke to him. It’s my mistake. I just killed that man.’

  Alex and I did what we could to console him, but Steven was having none of it. And sure as anything, the first thing that I heard on the radio when my alarm went off the next day was that former nightclub boss, Ray Matiz, had been found strangled. His body had been dumped by an old oak tree outside the former Woodlands Edge children’s home.

  Alex and I had slept in the same bed. Nothing was going on, it was just a habit we’d fallen into. We were so familiar with each other, we’d not bothered with the usual niceties of one sleeping on the sofa. The radio alarm had turned on to the local news at six o’clock. We were up early to make sure that we caught Bob Taylor on his lollipop-man shift. It would be a close run thing. I had to be at Lytham for 9.30. If I missed the Dodds interview I’d be toast.

  ‘Shit, did you hear that?’ I said to Alex.

  ‘Bloody hell, Steven was right. And the body found at the same tree too. There’s something going on here, Pete. Someone is killing off all these old buggers who were implicated in that scandal. I’d be shitting bricks if I was Russell Black!’

  ‘It’s unbelievable, Alex. Why would it all surface now – after all these years? I can tell you something though, I want to talk to Bob Taylor even more now.’

  ‘Do you think Tony Dodds’ widow will still do the interview? What’s her name … June? Do you think she’ll cancel?’

  ‘Who knows?’ I replied, hoping that she didn’t. ‘I suggest we carry on until we hear otherwise.’

  We got showered and breakfasted, picked up our phones and headed for the door. It was quiet. There had been some music coming from a flat above until midnight or thereabouts, but some other tenant had banged on the door, threatened whoever it was with violence, and the music had stopped. So classy. There would be none of that in Lytham St Annes when I paid a visit to June Dodds.

  We got in the car. The windscreen was misted up, and I could barely see out. I passed Alex a rag and she began to wipe the windows. I tried to start the engine.

  ‘Shit, it’s damp,’ I cursed as the engine turned over but didn’t fire.

  I tried again. The third time, it caught.

  ‘Bloody car. I thought it was going to die on me there. Maybe I should just let them repossess it.’

  It didn’t take us long to drive across town to Sandy Edge Primary School. It was quite a large school, red brick, Victorian probably. We were waiting outside by eight o’clock, in plenty of time to make sure that we caught Bob.

  Before long one or two kids began to make their way to the school. These were the ones who’d been thrown out of the house by working parents. They waited in a nearby bus stop. It was too early to go into the school, and if they had a breakfast club there they’d have to pay to access that warmth.

  ‘What should I ask June Dodds?’ I asked Alex. ‘I need a killer question. He’s dead now, no libel, so I can say what I want about him. But I don’t want to piss her off so she never talks to the radio station again. Mark will kill me.’

  ‘Ask her if she knew,’ Alex replied.

  ‘Knew what?’

  ‘Leave it like that. Nothing else. Ask her if she knew and let her fill in the blanks.’

  I was looking for something more damning than that. A car drew up along the road. An older guy with a grey head of hair got out. He messed around in the back of the car for a bit, and then took out a fluorescent yellow mac.

  ‘They used to be white when we were kids,’ Alex said.

  We watched him as he fastened the coat, put on the matching hat, and took out the distinctive lollipop pole.

  ‘No bugger’s going to knock him over. They can see him from London!’ she added.

  ‘You, me or both of us?’ I asked.


  ‘I think I might be a distraction,’ Alex answered. ‘You start and I’ll come out if you signal to me. He might need a bit of celebrity to help him along.’

  ‘Bob Taylor?’ I asked as I walked up to him. The flow of children and parents hadn’t begun yet, so he had a few minutes to talk.

  ‘Yes, can I help you?’ he asked. He was on his guard. He’d probably heard the news and thought I was a reporter. I was, I suppose, but I was there on personal business.

  ‘Pete Bailey ...’ I extended my hand.

  ‘Ah, Peter Bailey, I know you. You’re interviewing Tony Dodds’ wife later, I hear. They won’t stop talking about it on that radio station of yours.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. I’m pleased to meet you. Congratulations on your long career. I saw it in the newspaper.’

  ‘Thank you. But that’s not why you’re here, is it? Is it about Matiz and Dodds? It has to be, surely?’

  ‘It is and it isn’t,’ I replied. ‘It’s about Meg Yates. You may remember her as Meg Stewart.’

  Bob paused a moment. He needed to think this one through. A couple of kids walked up with their parents. It gave him an excuse to walk away and cross them over the road. The kids chatted to him and he laughed with them and the adults. He had an easy way about him. I could see why he was popular in the job.

  ‘Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a while,’ he said, as he walked back up to me. ‘How do you know Meg? What became of her?’

  ‘She is … was … She’s my wife. We’ve been separated for almost a year now.’

  This time it was me who paused. It was almost a year to the day. I hadn’t realised that. A year to the day since I cheated on her and our lives had started to unravel.

  ‘You don’t seem sure,’ he smiled.

  ‘We are married. You must have seen the story in the papers – the cathedral murders?’

  ‘I saw the stories but I didn’t clock who was involved. That wasn’t Meg was it? She’s okay, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she’s fine. She’s living in Blackpool again. I’m trying to find her. Our relationship is ... complicated.’

  I hated that word. It made me sound like a teenager on Facebook. But that’s what it was. Complicated.

  More kids came, more people to cross over. This was going to be hard work. I looked at my phone. He’d be finished when school started. I might get twenty minutes uninterrupted then.

  ‘It’s going to get busy, I’m afraid,’ he said, looking along the path at the next set of kids about to swarm around him.

  ‘How about we meet over there in the café when I’m done? If you know Meg, I’d love to talk. I knew her father too.’

  I went back to the car to update Alex and we walked across the road to get a hot drink while we waited for Bob.

  ‘He seems nice enough,’ I said. ‘I think he’ll talk.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Alex said. ‘I’m going to leave you after we talk to Bob and walk into town. There’s no point me coming over to June Dodds’ with you. You’re working. I’ll keep out of your way and catch up with you later. You should see DCI Summers alone too. I don’t want to tag along to everything. They’ll think I’m your shadow.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’ll text you when I’m done with Kate. That works well – we’ll both be in the town centre. Good idea!’

  Bob joined us a little after nine o’clock, and I got him a coffee. He recognised Alex straight away. They chatted as I got Bob’s drink. I kept an eye on the time. I’d have maybe ten to fifteen minutes with Bob, and then I’d have to be on my way.

  ‘I’ll have to keep things brief, Bob,’ I said, handing him his coffee. ‘I need to leave shortly – the big interview. But you know about that already. I’ll cut straight to the chase. What’s going on, Bob? This is all connected to the home, isn’t it?’

  His face straightened and he shifted gear from his conversation with Alex.

  ‘It’s entirely to do with that, Peter. That situation was never going to go away. I’ve had to watch Tony Dodds, Russell Black and the others swan around this town as if nothing had happened. How do you think I ended up doing this job? I love it, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t my career aspiration. It was those guys who messed it all up for me.’

  ‘Is Gary Maxwell still local?’ Alex asked.

  She got in there before I did.

  ‘What about Ray Matiz?’ I followed up. ‘We saw him last night at the Winter Gardens.’

  ‘Gary Maxwell went to prison. Eventually. He’s the only one who did in the end. He must be out by now, but I don’t know where he is. Ray Matiz sold up several years ago and moved away when his wife left him. I was surprised that he’d dared to come back here when I saw that he’d been murdered.’

  ‘But what happened at the home?’ asked Alex. ‘You seem to be one of the good guys. Nobody has told us otherwise.’

  ‘Yes, I hope I was a good guy. I tried to be. But with all that pressure on, when push came to shove, I was forced to back down. I had to take care of my own family. I always felt that I let those kids down. I still do.’

  I sneaked a look at my phone.

  ‘Look, I’m so sorry, I’m going to have to leave you both,’ I apologised. ‘I can’t miss this interview. Anything I should ask her, Bob? I need to be quick, but you can talk to Alex. Alex knows what to ask you. Is that okay?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Ask her why she stood next to Tony all these years. She must have known what they were doing with those kids. Ask her that.’

  I made my excuses and was away. It was a terrible day. The wind was blowing off the sea and there was a biting chill. Again the car wouldn’t start. It took four turns of the key to coax the engine back to life. I revved a couple of times, made sure it wasn’t going to stall on me, and then drove away towards Lytham St Annes. I was looking forward to my interview with June Dodds. I was keen to see how evasive she would be. There’d be a lot of eyes on this interview. At least Charlie Lucas would be pissed off that I’d got the exclusive.

  I knew that Alex would know what to ask Bob. It felt as if we were finally getting somewhere. The story was coming together. People were beginning to step out of the shadows now. However, the next time I got to catch up with Alex, it would be in a hospital.

  Chapter Ten

  1993 One of the things that Hannah and Meg liked to do on their own was to visit David’s grave. He was the father of Meg’s child, after all. However light the adults might have made of that relationship, Meg had believed herself to be in love.

  Jacob had been buried hundreds of miles away in the town of his birth. His had been a troubled childhood, passed from pillar to post. Although he’d ended up in Blackpool, his final resting place was in Devon. It was beyond Hannah’s resources to get to the graveyard in Tiverton, so she had to make do with her memories. It helped to visit David’s grave with Meg. It made her feel closer to what had happened.

  The girls would make a day of their monthly visit, ensuring that they always marked the anniversaries of Jacob and David’s deaths. It was a decent walk for them from home, but they enjoyed the time to chat, away from the adults. They’d remember the boys and the fun they’d had in the home, and then their thoughts would turn to sadness and reflection as they neared the cemetery entrance.

  ‘This might sound ridiculous, but have you been watching that car?’ Meg said suddenly. Hannah had been wondering if she’d get tearful again, as she usually did when she saw the grave.

  ‘It’s the blue one. Look. It keeps passing us, pulling over, and then moving ahead of us again. I’m sure it’s following us.’

  ‘You’ve been watching too much X-Files,’ Hannah teased. ‘You’re convinced everything’s a conspiracy since they started showing it on the telly.’

  ‘No, I’m serious,’ Meg replied, in no mood to be mocked. Sure, the X-Files was like nothing she’d seen on TV before. It had captured her imagination alright. But she was certain the car was tailing them. Most like
ly it would be some creepy guys from school, nothing more.

  ‘Don’t look,’ Meg said as they walked past the car, which was parked on the other side of the street. ‘But you watch. It’ll start again and then move further up the road. Sometimes it pulls round a corner, but they’ve been with us since we left the house.’

  ‘Okay, okay, I’ll watch,’ Hannah replied, humouring Meg. She tried to get a good look at who was in the car without turning her head. It was two men, as far as she could see. Well-dressed. Nice coats.

  The girls walked by and as they neared the end of the street the car began to drive on, passing them, and then pulling up towards the end of the next road. It was far enough to be out of the way, but not so far that they couldn’t be viewed in the car’s mirrors.

  ‘You might be right,’ Hannah conceded.

  ‘Let’s take this side street up ahead and loop back to the main road. See what they do.’

  The girls walked on, as if they were going to walk straight ahead, and then took a sudden turning into a side street. They made a few turns, using their sense of direction to guide them, and came out on the road that they’d been heading for in the first place. Parked opposite the junction was the Vauxhall Cavalier. Meg tried to clock the registration number. It was K-registration, she saw that much.

  ‘You see! They’re following us, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Meg. Should we find a phone box and ring Mum? Maybe they’re police or something. It might be to do with the inquiry.’

  Meg wasn’t so sure. They’d already had some preliminary chats. They’d always been handled in open environments with a trusted adult in attendance. This was something different.

  ‘There’s a phone box near the cemetery. Let’s see if they go first. Mum will do her nut if she thinks we’re in trouble. She might stop us coming on our own. We won’t be alone in the cemetery, there are always people up there. Let’s wait a bit.’