Two Years After ; Friends Who Lie ; No More Secrets

by Paul J. Teague

  ‘Not any more,’ Rosie said, re-dialling Mackenzie’s number. ‘James, will you get an Uber to pick us up from the entrance? We’re going back to my house. You can send the costs to me. It’s urgent.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ James asked, a look of concern on his face. ‘I’m confident everything is okay. If we look hard enough, I reckon we’ll soon find some evidence about Edward.’

  ‘No, I need to get back to the house. Mackenzie is not who she appears to be. I think she’s the one who’s been sending all these vile things to me. Get that Uber ordered, then help me tidy up Edward’s office.’

  Rosie was giving James instructions now, not asking him.

  Mackenzie’s phone had gone to voicemail a second time. She fought with the rapidly descending fog in her mind, knowing she had to stay sharp for Sam’s sake. Then, as she picked up Mackenzie’s file to place it back where she’d found it, a shiver ran through her body.

  When Sam had seen Mackenzie back at the house, he’d welcomed her like they were old friends. He was a two-year-old and didn’t care that much who he was playing with, so long as they were friendly with him. But his eyes had lit up when Mackenzie had come in, as if he knew her already. Was Mackenzie the person who’d taken him in the park? Was it Mackenzie who’d hurt her dad?

  ‘Forget the files,’ Rosie said, ‘We’re going. Is that Uber coming?’

  ‘Yes, how soon do you want it?’ James asked.

  ‘Now!’ Rosie shouted at him. ‘Get it now!’

  ‘Hadn’t we better tidy up in here? Edward will know we’ve been in his office?’

  ‘Fuck Edward!’

  Rosie felt the fury rising in her like a burning fireball. She’d had enough. She was going to give Mackenzie a piece of her mind and then she would have a serious word with the strange guy from HR. It was time to take back control. If she could only shake off the terrible feeling of vagueness. It must be a reaction to the extra sleeping pills. She wouldn’t be doing that again, however much she wanted to knock herself out.

  James was acting as if events were running away from him. He fussed about the room, putting the files back in place, picking up the glass of water and checking that everything was where it had been.

  ‘Are you coming with me, James?’ Rosie asked. ‘I could use some moral support. Besides, she’s such a mouthy bitch that I’m expecting her to turn nasty when I confront her.’

  She couldn’t figure this out. Why the hell hadn’t Vera mentioned it?

  Now James had cleared the room, he followed Rosie out, making sure the door was shut behind them.

  ‘I hope we can get back home fast. That little cow is getting a piece of my mind.’

  The Uber was waiting outside for them by the time they’d locked up the office and made their way down to the lobby in the lift.

  The driver said nothing throughout the journey and she was grateful that he wasn’t the chatty type. She didn’t even speak to James. All she could think of was Mackenzie. Why didn’t she know that Vera had a daughter?

  She searched her mind, thinking back to her time in the hospital. It wasn’t the most lucid period of her life. What did she know about Vera? Yes, she was divorced. Yes, she had mentioned that she had a daughter. But she called her Mack! Of course she had a daughter. She’d even been to the hospital. Rosie forced open the compartments of her mind. Mackenzie had long hair then, and it wasn’t pink or shaved at that time. She didn’t have piercings or make-up either. Two years ago, she was just like any other teenager.

  She hadn’t been around in the later stages of Rosie’s recovery, though. Where had she gone? Damn, she’d known the girl all the time but hadn’t realised. A buzz cut, a splash of hair dye, a couple of piercings and a different environment made all the difference. Why hadn’t Mackenzie said something? Vera’s Mack had to be MacKenzie.

  They soon arrived at the house; it was only a ten-minute journey at that time of night. She got out of the vehicle, leaving James to deal with the pleasantries. As she walked around the car, Rosie saw that the hallway light was on and the door was wide open. She knew straight away that something was up. How could she have been so blind to miss that it was Mackenzie who’d been tormenting her all along?

  She rushed up the drive, stumbling as she did so, feeling drunk. Her head was spinning, but her fear for Sam drove her forward. As she ran up to the front door, she saw a body lying on the carpet. Paperwork was strewn across the floor, as if he’d had it in his hand when he’d fallen. There was a bloody patch at the back of his head, suggesting he’d been struck from behind as soon as he’d walked into the house.

  ‘Edward?’ she said, recognising his shoes immediately. He must have come to the house with some administrative work for her to complete. There was a form with the words Sick Leave printed at the top; it now had splashes of blood across it.

  Rosie ran into the house, her heart thudding. It was all falling into place: Mackenzie was the person who was making her life a misery. The sick bitch - if she was Vera’s daughter, she should know the impact her actions would have on a woman in her fragile state. But then maybe that was her game?

  Her only concern was to find Sam. She ran into the kitchen, looking for any sign that they’d been there recently. The toys were left scattered on the floor where they’d been playing.

  Rosie looked in the corner; the pushchair had gone. Mackenzie had taken Sam out – but where? Then she saw it, a picture drawn in crayon of a person standing on a bridge with a road and cars underneath it. It was a simple drawing, of a stick lady. Nobody would think anything of it if they saw it. But Rosie knew what it meant, and she knew where Sam was now.

  ‘Call the Uber back,’ Rosie shouted at James as he joined her in the kitchen.

  ‘Edward’s alive,’ he said. ‘He’s still breathing. But he’s out cold – I’ll call an ambulance. The Uber guy is on his way to his next job.’

  ‘Then we’re going in my car,’ Rosie said, her mind now intent on getting to Mackenzie. When she found that conniving witch, she’d throw her off the flyover herself.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  ‘Should you be driving?’ James asked.

  ‘Fuck you, James!’ Rosie cursed. ‘She’s got my son. She’s trying to torment me. This has to end tonight.’

  ‘Will you please keep the noise down out there?’

  Rosie had taken her car keys from the hook in the kitchen and was now checking Edward for signs of life in the hallway. Her neighbour had heard the fun and games and was now standing in the doorway.

  ‘What have you done?’ she asked.

  Rosie was so out of it, she wasn’t entirely sure what she was imagining and what was real. She couldn’t deal with her neighbour at that moment.

  ‘Screw you!’ she shouted. ‘Get away from my house. This is nothing to do with you.’

  ‘Steady, Rosie,’ James urged.

  ‘I’m calling the police. What have you done to that poor man? He needs help. I told the police you’re insane. You’re not fit to care for that child of yours.’

  ‘Do what you want, but if you don’t get out of my way, I’ll run you down.’

  ‘You’re mad. I always knew you were.’

  Rosie couldn’t care less now; she just wanted to get to Sam. And if it meant driving again, so be it. James was saying something to appease her neighbour, but she didn’t care any more. The ambulance was on its way, Edward was alive, and her only priority now was her child. If her neighbour had called the police, all to the good; they could lock up that cow Mackenzie and throw away the key.

  Rosie removed the cover from her car, tossing it aside like a piece of rubbish. Then she clicked the remote unit on the small vehicle. It released the locks like it hadn’t been sitting tucked on the drive for two years. Maybe if they’d taken her car to the leaving do two years ago – perhaps if she’d done the driving that night – none of this would ever have happened.

  She put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine groaned like it was unwilli
ng to be disturbed from its slumber. She hadn’t even thought about whether there’d be any juice left in the battery. She turned over the engine again, then again. James opened the passenger door and got in beside her. At first, she imagined it was Liam. It was as if they were going out to the shops before the baby – before the babies – were born.

  Rosie wanted to scream and cry. She thought of Phoebe – poor Phoebe, who’d never even got her chance at life.

  ‘You’re playing with fire here, Rosie,’ James said. ‘Where are you going? I’m sure everything is okay. Mackenzie probably just went out for a walk with Sam.’

  ‘Don’t even say that to me!’ Rosie screamed. The engine fired. ‘I know what she’s doing to me. I know what she’s up to.’

  ‘Rosie,’ James urged gently, ‘perhaps you’re still struggling after your illness.’

  ‘Don’t you dare try to suggest this is all in my head!’ Rosie shouted.

  She forced the vehicle into reverse, crunching the gears as she did so. The car lurched backwards, screeching out into the road and smashing against a vehicle that was parked opposite her drive.

  ‘Damn, Rosie, you didn’t even look to see if it was clear. My door isn’t shut properly either.’

  James quickly pulled the door closed. Rosie ignored the collision and forced the gearstick into first, pulling the car round straight.

  ‘Is this thing even taxed and insured?’ James asked.

  ‘It didn’t make any bloody difference when we had our accident, so why should it make any difference now?’ she replied. She knew she was out of control, fuelled by rage and frustration, but she didn’t care. Anger at Liam, despair over Phoebe’s death, fear of losing Sam; it all mixed to create a lethal cocktail of emotions which had been ignited by the sheer unfettered fury of realising Mackenzie was to blame for all those terrible things. She’d thought she was losing her mind.

  The car roared along the road, Rosie not bothering to take it out of third gear.

  ‘Where are we going?’ James asked. ‘You need to stop this, Rosie. You’re going too far.’

  ‘The bridge, we’re going to the bridge. That’s where the little cow has taken him. She’s trying to taunt me. The spiteful bitch – I know what she’s doing.’

  Rosie swerved around the corner, clipping a second car as she focused on trying to remember the route. It seemed much more straightforward on foot. After another right turn, then two lefts, at last she arrived at the motorway flyover.

  This was where she’d once considered killing herself here, in a distant time. She’d even got as far as the other side of the barrier, with Sam in his pram behind her, ready to jump into the traffic below. All she could think of now was Sam’s life – and that meant she had to live, if only for her son.

  Rosie clipped the kerb as she pulled up at the side of the road. She didn’t bother switching off the engine or applying the hand brake – the door was open, and she was out on the path in seconds.

  ‘Where are you, you fucking bitch?’

  Then she saw Mackenzie, holding Sam in her hands. She stared back at Rosie as the motorway traffic thundered below them, busy even at that time of night.

  ‘Stop there!’ Mackenzie shouted.

  Rosie stopped dead. Mackenzie had placed Sam on the top of the metal fencing that ran along the flyover. She balanced him there, holding him firmly with her hands.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ Mackenzie cautioned. ‘Sam and I are playing a game.’

  ‘You’re fucking mad!’ Rosie screamed at her, fighting to be heard over the sound of the traffic below them. Their lights illuminated the bridge as they whizzed by at speed – lorries, cars, vans – each one a random bullet in a game of Russian roulette. If Sam were to fall, one of them could kill him in an instant. James was now standing behind her, at a distance.

  ‘Hey, James!’ Mackenzie shouted, as if she’d been expecting him.

  Then Rosie watched as Mackenzie started to play a sick game with her son, his face turned to her, his back to the deadly motorway.

  ‘Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall…’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ Rosie screamed, considering whether to rush at Mackenzie. Sam was laughing, thinking it was all a game. He hadn’t a clue how much peril he was in.

  ‘Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…’

  Mackenzie released one of her hands. Sam yelped with joy.

  ‘No!’ Rosie called, rushing forward.

  ‘Steady, Rosie,’ Mackenzie warned, moving her free hand to something that was tucked into the back of her trousers. All Rosie could focus on was the single hand that was holding her son, who was still balanced on the railing of the motorway bridge.

  Mackenzie drew a small kitchen knife from behind her back. Rosie recognised it as one of her own. She was also vaguely aware now of police sirens in the distance; had her nosy neighbour finally done something useful?

  Rosie’s legs were weak, her mind a mess of confused thoughts and feelings. She could so easily cry, scream and collapse to the floor, craving the oblivion of her medication, yet she knew Sam needed her more than anybody in the world right now.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Mackenzie? Why do you hate me so much? Vera is my friend. I love her. I owe her everything.’

  ‘Because I can,’ Mackenzie smiled.

  With the knife in her hand, Mackenzie resembled the Chucky doll that had been sent as a gift for Sam’s birthday. She had never seen anybody look so evil in her life.

  ‘And because Mum cares for you loonies more than she ever bothered about me. But mostly because it’s fun. You nutters don’t know what we’re doing to you most of the time.’

  ‘Okay, Mackenzie,’ James said. Rosie had almost forgotten about him standing there, behind her. He was a useless piece of trash. He’d done nothing to help so far.

  ‘All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again…’

  ‘Mackenzie, please, no!’

  The sirens were almost upon them now.

  ‘It’s okay, Rosie, I’m only messing with you,’ Mackenzie said. ‘Here, take him from me.’

  Rosie looked directly into Mackenzie’s eyes and saw a look of evil and hatred that she’d not known before. One hand was clutching Sam’s coat at its front. If she let him go, he’d tumble backwards into the traffic below. In her other hand was the knife. Was this a trick?

  ‘It’s okay Rosie. I won’t hurt you. Come and get him. I was only messing with you. A girl’s gotta have fun somehow. Here, take this knife from me.’

  Rosie edged closer, cautious and fearful. Mackenzie held out the knife. The sirens were just around the corner now. They would be deafening when they got there.

  As Rosie reached for the knife, Mackenzie thrust it at her gently. Sam moved backwards on the railing and Mackenzie steadied him. He laughed, believing the Humpty Dumpty game was continuing.

  ‘It’s alright, I’m joking,’ Mackenzie said. ‘Take it. Then I’ll give you Sam.’

  ‘They’re here now!’ James shouted. Rosie didn’t know who he was talking to, as she focused on taking the knife. Mackenzie moved her hand to Sam, lifted him away from the railing and unceremoniously thrust him at Rosie. The knife dropped to the ground at her feet. She grasped Sam and hugged him close, crying with relief and exhilaration. Her child was finally safe.

  Through her haze, Rose was aware of Mackenzie running up to join James. Police cars screeched to a halt just behind them. As she hugged and kissed Sam, she caught sight of a distinctive pair of boots and heard the reassuring voice of DI Sarah Fletcher, trying to calm her down. Then there were screams. It was Mackenzie.

  ‘She’s going to jump with the baby – she told me. Look, she’s got a knife. She’s going to kill the baby!’

  Rosie’s head was swimming, her senses overloaded by the thundering traffic on the motorway below her, the sudden sound of the sirens and the tense activity from the surrounding police officers. DI Sarah Fletcher was moving slowly towards her, while Mackenzie kep
t on screaming that she was crazy, intent on killing her child.

  The last thing she was aware of was Sarah Fletcher gently taking Sam from her arms, as a sudden panic that she might throw him into the traffic below gave way to an agonising pain in her chest that made her fall to her knees.

  Epilogue

  ‘There you are Rosie, darling. You’re all sorted now.’

  Vera finished wiping her eyes with a damp flannel and kissed her friend on the forehead.

  ‘I never expected to see poor old Rosie here back at Trinity Heights. I thought she was going to sort herself out. She’s lucky to have a friend like you, Mackenzie.’

  Mackenzie smiled.

  ‘I hope it helps when I visit the patients in their rooms, Mum. Some of them are so out of it on their meds. I don’t know if I’m doing any good. If you think it helps, I’ll keep doing it.’

  ‘Rosie’s going to need your friendship more than ever,’ Vera replied, ‘what with her dad in a home now and poor Sam with foster parents. It’s such a terrible state of affairs.’

  Vera moved the sheets back slightly from Rosie’s chest and pulled back her gown a little.

  ‘The marks are healing nicely now. Fancy tasering a woman in her distressed condition. No wonder she was in such a state.’

  Vera covered up Rosie once again and straightened the few objects that had been placed on her bedside table. There was a framed photograph of Sam and one of her dad.

  ‘Here’s your new friend now. Fancy keeping him away from me all this time. He seems like such a nice chap – don’t scare him off like all the others,’ she said.

  ‘Oh no, James is special,’ Mackenzie replied.

  ‘Hi Mrs Philpot,’ James said, walking into the room. ‘How’s Rosie now, any better?’

  ‘She’ll have to stay sedated for some time,’ Vera said. ‘Who would have thought she’d threaten her baby? She told me she was finished with all those dark thoughts.’

  ‘When will she get out of here?’ James asked.