No Holds Barred

by Lyndon Stacey

  Daniel did indeed recall Dean telling him he was to play in a tournament, but he hadn’t realized the youngster was so serious about the game. Boyd clearly had known. Boyd had a mean streak a mile wide and a gift for homing in on a person’s vulnerability.

  ‘Look, I need you to trust me—’ he began, but Dean interrupted.

  ‘Why should I? I don’t know you. You could be in with them. Why should I listen to you?’

  Why indeed? For a fleeting moment, Daniel toyed with the idea of revealing his past in an attempt to persuade Dean to trust him, but he dismissed the idea. The youngster was too scared and the risk was too great. If Boyd were to find out, the cat would be amongst the proverbial pigeons.

  He decided on one last stab in the dark.

  ‘You overheard Boyd and Dek talking about coming out to the cottage and giving me a working over – is that it?’

  ‘They didn’t do it, though? Did they?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking,’ Daniel said dryly. ‘But I don’t think it went entirely to plan.’

  ‘I wanted to warn you,’ Dean’s face beseeched him to believe it. ‘But they said, if I did …’

  ‘ … they’d smash your knees.’

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’ Dean hung his head miserably, the axe hanging by his side. Behind the closed curtains a whistle blew to signify half-time, and shortly after Stevens senior bellowed out, ‘Dean? Put the kettle on, eh?’

  Dean raised his head.

  ‘My dad,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, we’ve already met. He did his best to get rid of me.’

  ‘He’s all right, my dad,’ Dean stated loyally, then raised his voice and shouted, ‘Just coming.’

  ‘Who does the garden – the veg?’ Daniel asked.

  ‘Me, mostly,’ Dean said, relaxing into justifiable pride.

  ‘It looks great. So, what did they say – Boyd and Dek? What did you overhear?’

  The guarded look returned in a flash and Daniel sighed.

  ‘Come on, Dean. You’ve told me most of it already. Both of them are away for the weekend, so there’s no one to know I’ve been here, and I promise I won’t say a word.’

  Dean groaned. ‘Oh, all right. I was in the back of the van, see, and they were walking past. Boyd says, “We need to get Whelan out of there before much longer, and anyway I think he could be trouble. Far better get shot of him.” Then Dek says, “So, when do we do it?” and Boyd, he says, “No time like the present. We’ll go tonight, late, and give him a night he’ll remember. I’ll give Macca a shout and see if he’s up for it.” Then Dek says, “What about the dog?” I tried to move closer to the side of the van so I could hear what Boyd said next, but I tripped over the pallet and they heard me. I’ll never forget Boyd’s face when he opened that back door. I thought I was dead, there and then!’

  Before Daniel could say anything more, the French windows of the house slid back and Dean’s father appeared in the aperture.

  ‘What the hell? What are you doing here?’ he roared, his face turning red with fury.

  ‘It’s all right, Dad,’ Dean called.

  ‘I told him you weren’t here.’

  ‘And yet here he is,’ Daniel couldn’t resist pointing out, and Stevens senior turned puce.

  ‘You’d better go,’ Dean suggested diplomatically. ‘And please – you won’t tell Boyd? You promised.’

  ‘I won’t tell him,’ Daniel said, and, whistling to Taz, he left the way he had come in, favouring the youngster’s father with a cheery wave.

  With time on his hands before meeting up with Drew again, Daniel called in on Boyd’s Salvage Spares on his way back to the farm. Rather than go straight to the business end of things, he drove slowly round the navigable alleyways, trying to locate the spot where the aerial photos had shown the buildings to be.

  Barely five minutes into his search, however, when he had got out of the car for a closer look, he was confronted by Ricky Boyd on a quad bike, demanding to know what he was up to.

  ‘Promised I’d repair something for Mrs Summers and was just looking for the right bit of metal,’ Daniel lied.

  ‘Well, you need to come to reception and ask,’ Ricky told him. ‘Can’t just go rummaging around on your own; it’s too dangerous. Health and safety and all that. Didn’t you see the notices?’ He gestured at the closest one: crudely fashioned, red painted letters on scraps of hardboard, requesting visitors to stay in their cars and ask for assistance at reception.

  ‘Evidently not,’ Daniel said pleasantly.

  ‘What exactly were you looking for?’

  ‘Ah, well, it’s a bit difficult to explain but I shall know it when I see it.’

  Ricky looked understandably sceptical. It was the first time Daniel had seen him without his shades, and, up close, the weak eyes under their puffy brows were reason enough for his preference for sunglasses.

  ‘What are you trying to repair, then?’

  Daniel walked back to his car and opened the driver’s door.

  ‘It’s something for the stables. Tell you what, I’ll come back when I know more what I’m looking for. Thanks for your help.’

  Ricky scowled and moved his quad bike further into the path of the car, but if he thought this would discommode Daniel, he was to be disappointed. Putting the Mercedes into reverse, he backed at speed down the alleyway between the towering walls of scrap until he could turn, and then, with a wave of his hand, headed for the exit.

  It had been Daniel’s intention to drive straight past Maidstone Farmhouse and on to the stables to meet Drew, but as he drove down the drive, he saw Liam Sellyoak’s black Porsche parked untidily in the yard and the man himself standing by the front door with the air of someone who is waiting for a response.

  As Daniel slowed up, the footballer turned away from the house and came to meet him, sunglasses perched on his shaved head.

  ‘Saw you here before, didn’t I?’ Sellyoak said by way of a greeting.

  ‘Mrs Summers isn’t here. She’s at the hospital with her husband.’

  ‘I thought that might be it. Any news?’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Daniel said. ‘Can I give her a message?’

  ‘No, you’re all right. I’ll call back another time.’ He angled towards his car, but Daniel’s next words turned him.

  ‘You want to buy the farm, I understand.’

  A flicker of annoyance touched Sellyoak’s face. ‘I think that’s between Mrs Summers and me.’

  ‘I’m a friend. She told me. She also said she’s not ready to make a decision just yet, so I think you should lay off the pressure. Especially while her husband is so sick.’

  ‘I’m a busy man, Mr – er, I don’t think I caught your name …’

  ‘Whelan.’

  ‘Well, Mr Whelan, as I said, I’m a busy man. Got the new season coming up. I don’t want to upset her – of course I don’t. I just want to get this sorted. If you was a real friend, you’d tell her to accept my offer. She won’t get a better one, and this place is too much for a woman on her own.’

  ‘I’ll tell her you called,’ Daniel said flatly, and watched while Sellyoak departed with bad grace.

  THIRTEEN

  Contrary to Daniel’s expectations, Drew wasn’t kicking his heels, waiting for his arrival. He was in the feedstore, helping Sue measure coarse mix into buckets for the horses’ teas, a fact that hadn’t escaped the notice of the yard’s occupants who were variously moving about restlessly, whinnying or banging impatiently on their doors.

  ‘Hello, Sprout,’ Daniel said, ruffling the boy’s hair. ‘Had a good day?’

  ‘Brilliant!’ Drew said. ‘Piper was amazing.’

  ‘You weren’t so shabby yourself,’ Sue put in from the other side of the feedstore. ‘You’ve got a natural on your hands, there, Daniel. I reckon he could be a top rider, given the chance.’

  ‘Mum would never let me have a horse,’ Drew said despondently. ‘She thinks they’re dirty and smelly.’

  ‘She mig
ht have a point,’ Daniel said, tugging the hem of Drew’s rather less than pristine T-shirt. ‘But, seriously, we’ll have to put our heads together and see if we can come up with something, if you’re really keen.’

  ‘Really?’ The boy’s shining eyes told their own tale.

  ‘Yep. Now, when you’ve got these hungry critters fed, we’ll go find something ourselves, and then I thought we might go on an owl hunt.’

  ‘Excellent! This holiday is turning out to be hist–oric!’

  It might have been expected that after a day of outdoor activity, a city boy would be out for the count by ten o’clock that night, but when Daniel followed him upstairs to bed at eleven thirty, a glance into his room found him sitting up in bed, wide awake.

  ‘Can’t you sleep?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a mega conversation going on between two tawny owls in the wood,’ Drew replied. ‘Did you know that one owl goes t’wit and another one goes t’woo. It’s not one bird.’

  ‘Actually, I did know that.’

  ‘I suppose we couldn’t go over into the wood with a torch now, could we?’

  ‘No, we couldn’t. Maybe another night.’ Even Daniel, who considered himself a fairly keen nature lover, had about had his fill of owls for one day.

  ‘But they might not be there another night,’ he observed wistfully.

  ‘They nearly always are,’ Daniel told him. ‘Sleep now.’

  Whether Drew did sleep or not, he wasn’t sure, but about an hour later Daniel was woken by the scraping of Taz’s claws on the wooden floor, a noise that he was particularly tuned in to. The dog made his way over to the open bedroom door and on to the landing.

  ‘No, Taz! Go back to Dad! Go on!’ Drew said in a stage whisper.

  An owl hooted loudly in the woods opposite, and Daniel raised his voice to say resignedly, ‘The front door key’s on the hook. You can open it, but don’t go out, OK?’

  ‘Oh, Da–ad.’

  ‘Promise.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘And make sure you lock it again afterwards.’

  ‘OK.’

  Daniel smiled to himself and rolled over, punching the pillow to get comfortable. He was aware that he’d probably taken the edge off the boy’s enjoyment of his midnight escapade, but safety had to come first, especially in the light of recent events.

  In spite of having a number of things on his mind, Daniel slipped back into sleep almost immediately, and when he was woken by the revving of car engines and the squeal of tyres, he had no idea how much time had passed.

  He sat bolt upright, his heart rate accelerating into the hundreds, as his mind tried to surface through the layers of sleep and sort out what was happening. Taz started barking frantically, his claws scrabbling on the boards as he left the room and charged downstairs.

  In a kind of reflex action, Daniel shouted for the dog even as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed a pair of jeans from the chair. Whatever the emergency, he wasn’t prepared to face it wearing only a pair of thin cotton sleeping shorts.

  As he pulled up his zip, he heard two sounds in quick succession that drove all other thoughts from his head: the crunch and tinkle of breaking glass and a terrified shout from Drew.

  ‘Dad!’

  In an instant, Daniel was across the room and out on to the landing.

  ‘Drew!’

  ‘Dad! Quickly!’

  Daniel started down the stairs even as Drew began to race up, leaving Taz barking furiously just inside the front door.

  ‘Go up and lock yourself in,’ Daniel said urgently as he passed his son halfway down, but Drew grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go.

  ‘It’s all right. Go on up.’

  ‘No! Dad! It’s on fire! The house is burning!’ Drew cried, shaking Daniel’s arm, and in the same instant Daniel saw a flickering orange glow in the open doorway of the sitting room.

  ‘Right. Then we get out. Now!’

  He turned Drew round and started down, but before they reached the hall, a river of orange flame seeped under the door and across the tiles, tongues of fire licking up the flowered wallpaper as it reached the edge. With a startled yelp, Taz turned tail and leapt for the stairs just inches ahead of the deadly tide.

  ‘Petrol!’ Daniel gasped. He turned Drew round once more and half threw him back up the stairway. ‘Into your room, quick! Open the window and stand by it.’

  As they reached the tiny landing, Daniel dodged into his own bedroom, pausing just long enough to gather up his jacket, the pockets of which held his wallet, mobile phone and car keys. Already the floor felt hot under the bare soles of his feet, and smoke was beginning to seep insidiously through the old boards. Putting the jacket on as he hurried after Drew, he found the landing smoke-filled and was glad to see the dog had followed the boy into the back bedroom. Quickly, he shut the door, gathered a blanket from the bed and stuffed it as hard as he could into the gap along the bottom.

  ‘They threw them through the windows!’ Drew shouted over the growing roar of the blaze. ‘Bottles that just exploded!’

  Daniel went across to where the boy could be dimly seen, standing obediently by the window.

  ‘We have to get out,’ he said, raising his voice to be heard. ‘No one will come because no one will know. Get the sheets off your bed, quickly!’

  As the boy hurried to do so, Daniel opened the window and leaned out. Fuelled by the petrol, the fire had spread with terrifying speed. Directly below, the window of the kitchen glowed orange, glass as yet intact, but he was grimly aware that it could shatter at any time, sending a whoosh of flame up the side of the building and engulfing anyone who was unlucky enough to be suspended above.

  There were, however, no other options, and speed was of the essence. As Drew reappeared at his side, holding out the sheets with shaking hands, he took them and knotted the two together, tugging them savagely to ensure the join would hold.

  ‘Wrap this round one hand a couple of times and hold it tight with the other hand, too,’ he instructed, coughing a little as the acrid fumes began to filter through from below. He lifted Drew on to the window sill and looked into his face, speaking slowly and clearly. ‘I’m going to have to let you down fast. When you touch down, let go and run right to the end of the garden, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Drew nodded, terror in the tight muscles of his face. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’ll be right behind you. Now hold tight!’

  The floorboards were becoming almost unbearably hot as Daniel lifted his precious cargo over the sill and paid out the length of material as fast and smoothly as was possible. From the rooms below, he could hear the staccato pops and bangs of mini explosions as the fabric of the house succumbed to the blaze.

  Down the boy went, spinning a little and bumping against the brickwork. Daniel stopped. He couldn’t afford for Drew to swing towards the window with the orange squares of glass an incendiary about to go off. Readjusting his position, he leaned out as far as he could, the window catch pressing painfully into his midriff, and let the sheets run through his fingers.

  Moments later, the cotton rope went slack as Drew dropped to the ground, staggered and then, freeing his hand, turned and ran away from the burning building as fast as he could.

  The relief was so great that for a moment Daniel almost forgot that there was still himself and Taz to save, but a sharp crack as the kitchen window succumbed to the heat brought him instantly to his senses, and he reeled back from the upstairs window as the first furious rush of flames surged upwards, engulfing the length of cotton sheet. Hastily unwinding it from about his own hand, Daniel let the burning material fall to the ground, knowing as he did so that he had lost his lifeline.

  Daniel turned round to find Taz beside him, standing up at the window, panting and whining. The rush, roar and popping of the flames tearing through the doomed cottage was deafening and the air was heavy with smoke.

  There could only be seconds to spare. They would have to jump, but he wan
ted something to break their fall.

  Daniel’s fingers found his pocket-sized LED torch in his jacket, switched it on and shone it briefly round the room. Visibility was extremely poor but he could see enough to judge the positions of the twin beds. Mattresses. They might make the difference between bruises and broken bones.

  Flashing the beam in the direction of the door, he saw the cream paint blistering and running, the whole thing blackening around the edges. Praying that the floorboards weren’t about to crumble from under him, he took a lungful of air from the open window and then, in two quick strides, ran to the beds, snatched the mattresses and dragged them back, trailing bedclothes.

  The mattresses were too wide to fit through the tiny cottage windows and resisted his efforts to bend them.

  ‘Come on, for fuck’s sake!’ Daniel groaned, struggling with the unwieldy things. At last he managed to fold them just enough to push them, one after the other, through the frame and drop them to the ground below.

  Telling the frantic dog to wait, he leaned out to see where they had landed. The downstairs window was no longer belching flame, just a billowing plume of black spark-filled smoke, but, with a sinking heart, Daniel saw that one mattress had fallen some feet away from the wall and the other had come to rest on its end, leaning against the brickwork.

  ‘Shit!’

  There was no plan B. Taz was dancing beside him, his feet no doubt as uncomfortably hot as his own were. Daniel folded the bedspread that was trailing over the window sill, looped it under the dog’s belly and chest and lifted him into the opening.

  ‘Sorry mate,’ he gasped, choking in earnest now as the fumes threatened to overwhelm him, and lowered the dog to the full extent of his arms, grateful that the dog’s helicopter winch training was keeping him calm.

  It wasn’t until the moment of release that he realized the two mattresses were now perfectly positioned at the foot of the wall, one atop the other. Sending thanks for a son with courage and initiative, he watched the German shepherd drop the last six feet or so and bounce harmlessly on the improvised landing mat before regaining his feet and jumping to the ground.