‘Christ!’
‘I had no idea what he meant by “his last two notes”, so I asked his mother. It turns out she had been trying to calm things down at home. She had stopped his father from hurting Chris more than he already had, she had got Chris to talk to her about how he felt and what had happened. He trusted her. He thought she understood. He gave her the notes to give to me, but she threw them away, instead. She told me she thought if Chris believed that I was getting on with my life and wanted nothing to do with him, then he would get on with his. She wanted me to forgive her.
‘I went home, packed a bag and left. I haven’t been back. God knows what the kids or Sarah think. I let Chris down so badly, then. I loved him. I let myself be brainwashed and manipulated and I became something I’m not.’
‘Jesus, man, that’s fucking awful. But you were just a kid, you were trying to do the right thing. You shouldn’t blame yourself for any of this.’
‘Chris was just a kid, too. All I had to do was remember how much I loved him. He never gave up on me.’
‘Did you forgive her? His mother.’
Monkeyboy shook his head. ‘No. She took it badly, she felt that she’d suffered enough, knowing that she was the cause of her son’s death. She hid the suicide note from everyone. Not even his dad knew about that. She found him, you see. That’s another reason she felt she deserved some form of absolution.’ He sighed. ‘I hate her and I blame her, but I also blame myself. And the voice in my head … you know the one?’
‘The one that tells you you’re worthless and a loser and the world would be better off without you,’ said Indigo. He knew it all too well, and he suspected the others did, too.
‘That one, yeah. It just won’t stop.’
They fell into silence, each lost in his own thoughts.
Chapter 37
‘So, what brings you here, honey?’ BlackWidow said to JacktheRiffer, as he finished playing.
JacktheRiffer sighed. He put down his guitar, then reached for his drink. ‘My own stupidity, mainly,’ he said. ‘Believe it or not, I was once kinda famous. Me and my mate, Davie, put a band together with a couple of guys we went to college with. We caught a wave. We got a record deal and did a UK tour. If it hadn’t been for me, we’d have gone further. I reckon we could have made it.’
‘What happened?’ said BlackWidow. The others were listening, too.
‘Me and Davie were lifelong friends, and we’d always shared everything, you know? Sweets, books, games – everything. Well, when we were grown up, I kept on with that attitude. Firstly, I shared my drug habit with him. Then I shared his girlfriend.’ JacktheRiffer took a drink. ‘What I didn’t know was that he was crazy about her.’ He shrugged. ‘There were so many women around, we just kind of swapped every now and then, you know? But this one was different, at least as far as Davie was concerned. He took it really badly. It didn’t matter what I said or did, he wouldn’t let it go.’ He rubbed his hand over his chin; his fingers rasping against stubble. ‘We were in the middle of a tour and trying to keep it together, but it was too much. One night, in the middle of a gig, Davie tried to brain me with his bass then he stormed off the stage. I was angry. I didn’t go looking for him until the next morning.’
‘What happened?’ asked Indigo.
‘Oh, God, I think I know,’ said Mayfly. Indigo looked at her quizzically. ‘Revelation, right?’ she said to JacktheRiffer.
‘Right.’
‘Davie Scott. Scotty. And you’re Parge, aren’t you? I didn’t twig at first.’
‘Been keeping a low profile these past few years or so.’
‘So, what happened?’ asked Indigo again.
‘We were in some Holiday Inn just outside of Newcastle.’ He paused. ‘I went to Davie’s room to try to talk to him. I couldn’t get an answer, but that was nothing new. He wasn’t speaking to me, remember? But it felt different this time. It felt wrong. I can’t explain how or why, it just did, so I got the manager to come and open the door.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘We got the door open and I went in first. Davie was dead. He had this woman in there, some tart he’d picked up. She must have had some dodgy gear and she’d shared it with Davie. She’d tried the old junkie revival method on him, but it hadn’t worked.’
‘The old junkie revival method? What’s that, honey?’ asked BlackWidow.
‘She shoved ice cubes up his arse.’ JacktheRiffer’s jaw was set in a hard line. ‘It was just awful. So … undignified. Such a horrible way to die, stuck in a hotel room with some useless fucked-up bint who didn’t have the sense to try to get proper help. She was just sitting there when we went in, off her face on pills. Just sitting on the floor in the bathroom, with her back against the bath while he lay dead on the floor in the bedroom.’
‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ said Indigo. ‘That must have been rough, finding your best mate dead, especially when you weren’t on good terms.’
‘I killed him. I got him on drugs then I took his girl. If I hadn’t, he’d still be here and we’d be conquering the universe, laying waste to the shit bands that are out there now taking advantage of the fact that we crashed and burned.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, honey,’ said BlackWidow. ‘People are responsible for their own actions.’
‘I didn’t even like Davie’s girl all that much. She was just there, you know? In my face and on the make. Available. As for drugs, Davie was only really bothered about a pint and a smoke. I pushed him into using hard drugs. He never would have, on his own.’
‘Still his choice,’ said BlackWidow.
‘I can’t help but feel guilty, though. Don’t think I haven’t tried all of those excuses – about it being his choice, his decision – on for size, myself. I have. I’ve excused my behaviour a thousand ways, despite which, every morning when I wake up, he’s still dead, I still miss him, and it’s still my fucking fault.’
‘Does the voice keep on at you?’ said Monkeyboy. ‘Your inner voice.’
‘The voice in my head that never has a good word to say to or about me?’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘Oh, yeah, that fucker never lets up.’
‘JunkieScum knew, didn’t she,’ said Mayfly. It wasn’t a question.
‘Yeah, she recognised me pretty much right off, but she didn’t say anything. Reckoned it was my business, just like her reasons for being here were hers.’ He looked up at Mayfly. ‘And now she’s someone else I’ve lost, someone else I just couldn’t keep safe.’
‘Now that really isn’t your fault!’ said BlackWidow. ‘Who could have expected some mad killer to be on the loose this weekend? And who could have known there’d be secret passages and the like?’
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ said Monkeyboy. ‘When we came here on Friday, we didn’t expect any of us to be leaving alive. Then someone starts to kill us and suddenly we don’t want to die.’
‘It’s all about doing things on your own terms, though, isn’t it?’ said Indigo. ‘I mean, it’s one thing if I pay Reaperman to inject me with drugs because I haven’t got the bottle, or the knowledge, or access to the right sort of drugs to do a thorough job myself. It’s quite another if some fucking maniac decides he’s going to stove my head in and make me part of some sick display.’
‘Or take your eyes out,’ said Monkeyboy, then he shuddered. He remembered the ruined Harley they’d had to abandon that morning. ‘I wonder if SpeedKing’s up there yet?’
‘Don’t think about it,’ advised Indigo. ‘Put it out of your mind. Let’s just focus on tomorrow and help arriving and getting the hell out of here in one piece.’
JacktheRiffer picked up his guitar and started to play again. Mayfly got up and refilled people’s glasses. BlackWidow checked her watch. ‘Quarter past eleven,’ she said. ‘Soon be midnight, and then help will be coming today, not tomorrow.’
‘I’m going to try to get some sleep,’ said Monkeyboy. ‘It makes the time pass, you know?’ He took a pillow and a quilt and lay down on one of the settees, just apart from the main group.
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‘Good luck, man,’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘I like the idea, but I’m not sure I could sleep, to be honest.’ He strummed softly. ‘So, BlackWidow,’ he said eventually. ‘I’ve told you my sorry little story. What’s yours? What brings you to this fun-packed experience?’
BlackWidow sighed. ‘Well, I think I’ve got quite a bit in common with you, honey. Guilt. Death. Responsibility. You know how it is.’ She shifted in her chair and made herself comfortable, then she began.
Chapter 39
‘Four years ago, I met the most wonderful man. Raymond Smith was his name and I just fell for him right away.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘And, as fate would have it, he fell for me, too. So, there you have it. Then, after we had been seeing one another for about six months, his time in the USA was up. He was to come back home to England. I was heartbroken. I was going to miss him so much. I knew we would keep in touch, at first, anyway, but I figured, in time, we would just fizzle out. I didn’t think six months was long enough to be making any kind of a major commitment, you see. I thought if we could only have had another six months, maybe even just another three, then that would have been time enough to decide if we wanted to make a future together.’
Indigo reached for Mayfly’s hand.
‘Raymond thought differently. We went out for dinner and I was expecting to hear “It’s been great, but …”, and instead he asked me to marry him. Got down on one knee, offered me a ring, had a violinist waiting in the wings, the whole shebang.’ She laughed, taking pleasure in the memory. ‘Well, how could you turn down a man like that? So, I resigned from my job, sorted out my affairs and moved to England with him. By the time we had known each other for a year, we were married.’
‘Wow, that’s great,’ said Mayfly. ‘What happened next?’
‘Well, life was good. I didn’t have to work, but I wanted to. I was used to it; I had no intention of becoming a kept woman and rearranging my Tupperware every day. We had good friends, and Raymond’s mother, and his brother and his wife and kids lived nearby. We all got on like a house on fire. Mrs Smith lived on her own. Her husband, Raymond’s father, had died some years prior of a heart attack. She was active, had a good social life, she seemed to be in good shape, then one day, out of the blue, she had a stroke. She was taken to hospital and was in a coma for the best part of two days. Raymond was devastated. He and his mother were very close. She doted on him; he was, without doubt, the favourite of her two sons.
‘She came out of the coma and over the next few weeks she began to improve. There was talk of physiotherapy and speech therapy and goodness knows how many other kinds of therapy, but the prognosis was good and we believed we would have her out of that hospital and back home before too much longer. Raymond was talking with an agency about getting in proper nursing help for her. Then one night we got a call to say that she had begun to deteriorate. They said we should get to the hospital just as soon as we could. Raymond had had a drink, so I drove. Now, I know this may sound bad, but I had practised the drive from home to the hospital a couple times, just to be sure, just in case something like this should happen, so I was very happy to drive him that night. The one thing I didn’t take into account was that, when I was focused solely on getting us there as fast as I could, I should make a stupid mistake and turn out on to the wrong side of the road. Old habits, you know?
‘Well, I put us right in the path of an oncoming vehicle. There was no way we could avoid a collision. Raymond grabbed the steering wheel and spun the car so that his side took all the impact and I was shielded. I survived as, thankfully, did the two people in the other vehicle. Raymond died, and so did his mother, without ever setting eyes on her favourite son again. She was denied her last wish.’
‘Oh, that’s awful. You poor soul.’ Mayfly reached over and took her hand.
‘It is tough,’ said Indigo, ‘but it was an accident. It couldn’t be helped.’
‘I was driving. That puts it on me. If I could only turn back the clock …’
‘You might as well blame Raymond for having had a drink when he knew his mother was in hospital. It doesn’t make sense to blame yourself like that,’ said Indigo. ‘Raymond obviously didn’t. He wouldn’t have turned the car, otherwise.’
JacktheRiffer stopped playing his guitar. ‘Indigo’s right,’ he said. ‘It’s not like you made it happen or you wanted it or anything.’
‘I know, honey, but it was my error that caused it. I’m guilty. And I feel the weight of the guilt of surviving, when Raymond didn’t.’ She smiled, but it was a desperately sad affair. ‘Would you play some more, please? I like it when you do that.’
‘Sure.’ JacktheRiffer bent over his guitar again.
As he played, he thought about what BlackWidow had told them all about her life. It had been an honest mistake. It wasn’t her fault. It was a combination of pressure, habit and a desire to do the right thing. Not quite like his own experience, but he hadn’t deliberately set out to harm anyone. He’d been selfish and thoughtless, but not malicious. Just like BlackWidow, if he could turn back the clock, he would. But he couldn’t. No one could. They just had to carry on and do the best they could from that point on. Not make the same mistakes again.
JunkieScum’s face flashed before his eyes, and he started playing a piece that had been trying to make itself known for a little while. He hadn’t known her for very long, but he felt angry that they had been denied a future. He was sure they would have been together for a long time, had they had the chance. He thought some more. If he had been taken instead of her, he would have wanted her to look for more of the joy that they had found in each other, in friendship and companionship. He would have wanted her to carry on, to go forward with her life and not just give up. Maybe, he wondered, the best way to remember her, to honour her memory, would be to do just that himself. To go on. To maybe meet someone and fall in love. Not go out sharking, nothing like that, just wait and see if someone should cross his path. He also, he thought, should finish the song he was working on, because it was for her. It was the first new thing he had composed since Davie died. He should write a song for Davie, too, he realised. He should work again. Do what he was born to do; write songs and play them to people. Honour his dead by making sure that the living never forgot them. Think of them with love, not with guilt. He finished playing the piece. He felt stronger, as though he had grown. Or perhaps just grown up a little.
‘That was beautiful, honey, thank you,’ BlackWidow said to him.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘It was my pleasure to play for you all.’
‘Mayfly, would you accompany me to the bathroom, dear?’
‘Of course.’ Mayfly stood up and went to help BlackWidow to her feet.
‘You’ll need more help than that,’ Indigo said, seeing BlackWidow wince in pain as she tried to stand. He looked at JacktheRiffer. ‘Mate? You up for an excursion?’
‘Sure.’ He put his guitar down.
‘Will it really take four of us?’ asked Mayfly.
‘Jack and I can help BlackWidow to walk.’
‘What about Monkeyboy?’ asked JacktheRiffer. Monkeyboy was fast asleep on the couch, under a blanket. ‘Should we wake him so he can come along?’
‘Seems a shame,’ said BlackWidow. ‘He was hoping to sleep to make the time pass, remember?’
‘You two help BlackWidow,’ said JacktheRiffer. ‘I’ll stay here with Monkeyboy.’
The others headed off, clutching knives, looking around at every step, and JacktheRiffer stood by the door and watched them, then checked out the staircase and landing. He saw no sign of anyone. He went back to his seat and picked up his guitar again, then started noodling to pass the time. His knife was within easy reach and the chair he sat in faced the hall door – the area of danger. He reckoned he and Monkeyboy would be fine until the others returned.
***
When the others came back five minutes later, they found JacktheRiffer slumped over his guitar.
‘Shit!’ Indi
go hurried over to him.
JacktheRiffer groaned and lifted his head. ‘What happened?’ he said.
‘We just got back and you were conked out,’ said Indigo.
‘Someone … someone hit me.’
BlackWidow looked at his head. ‘Oh, my, that looks nasty. It must have been quite a thump.’
‘Is Monkeyboy okay?’
Indigo looked over to the couch, where a blanket covered a mound. He walked over and turned it back. He was looking at a pile of cushions.
‘Oh, fuck,’ he said. ‘He’s gone.’
Chapter 39
‘How …?’ said Mayfly. ‘We checked in here for passageways and doors and hatches. It came up clean.’
JacktheRiffer looked uncertainly at the others. ‘Could we have missed something? Is there anywhere we didn’t check?’
‘Look,’ said Mayfly. She was pointing at the rug in front of the fireplace, which was rucked up. ‘I’m sure that was lying flat when we went out.’ She moved towards it.
‘Be careful, love,’ said Indigo. He was at her side in a moment. He bent down and pulled back the rug. ‘Ah, damn it!’
Set into the floor beneath the rug was a trapdoor. JacktheRiffer had his back to it – his attention was on the door to the hall. Indigo lifted the trapdoor, and it opened soundlessly. He saw steps leading into a dark void.
The Last Weekend Page 19
