THE RECKONING

BY

SARAH PINBOROUGH

i $6.99 US $8.99 CAN

ii PRAISE FOR SARAH PINBOROUGH AND THE HIDDEN

an

Quite unique... Ms. Pinborough does an amazing job. ... A great read.?

--The Horror Channel

?Original and gripping.?

--Horror Web iii Other books by Sarah Pinborough:

THE HIDDEN iv TOE

RECKONING

SARAH PINBOROUGH

LEISURE BOOKS

NEW YORK CITY v For Mum, Dad and Laura with much love.

A LEISURE BOOKŽ

October 2005

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

200 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this
book is stolen property. It was reported as ?unsold and destroyed?to the
publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any
payment for this ?stripped book.?

Copyright Š2005 by Sarah Pinborough

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher,
except where permitted by law.

ISBN 0-8439-5550-3

The name ?Leisure Books?and the stylized ?L?with design are trademarks
of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

Visit us on the web at www.dorchesterpub.com. vi Your house is your
larger body.

It grows in the sun and sleeps in the stillness of the night

and it is not dreamless.

--The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran, 1883-1931

vii RECKONING 1 Sarah Pinborough 2 Reckoning 3

Syracousse--Twenty-five years ago

Cooled by a breath of September, the summer sun floods through the large
clear windows from the garden outside and drenches Camilla's face,
replacing the natural color that has drained away with a golden yellow
sheen, giving her an unhealthy jaundiced look. She can't feel its warmth
on her skin. She can feel nothing but the cold that is creeping up her
numbed legs. The old swing outside, her swing from a childhood long gone
by, creaks backward and forward as Gina rides it, screeching out the
passing seconds on rusted hinges as she stands there and stares in
disbelief. Oh God no, Oh God no, what has she done?

The blood moves toward her across the tiled floor, slow and
unreperiting, darker and thicker than she expects; but then this liquid
that seems like crimson mercury sucking at her shoes is not from a
frivolous scratch or graze, pink and light, to be laughed away. No, this
is life's blood, Philip's life blood, and it is leaving him furiously,
escaping in floods, no longer needed.

4 Sarah Pinborough

Her shaking hand releases the carrot that will no longer be eaten for
dinner tonight, the carrot she'd been so angrily chopping, teeth
gritted, wishing he would just SHUT UP, while her husband shouted.
Shouted with all that blood pumping healthily, visible through the
throbbing veins on the side of his head. Shouted the words that seemed
to echo around her head, the words that he never seemed to tire of.

Kneeling by his body, his blissfully quiet body, she reaches for the
knife that has slid several times into his large torso before settling
in its final resting place at the center of his chest. Oh God, it won't
come out, it won't come out. Will this red that is creeping up her
cotton dress ever come out? Leaving the weapon embedded there, she rocks
backwards and forwards on her heels for a few seconds, her hand pressing
against her mouth, unaware of the stain her fingers leave there. Has she
done this? Had she wanted to do this? It has all happened so quickly and
she is sure, she is sure ... She lets out a small hysterical giggle. One
minute in my hand. The next minute it was gone. And for my next trick
ladies and gentlemen ...

Her knees are starting to hurt, and she slowly pulls herself to her
feet. There is nothing to be done. Nothing more can be done. The sound
of her heels clicking on the wooden hallway stabs at her brain, too
real, too loud, and it is a relief when she reaches the phone.

Her voice is even and calm as she speaks, and when it is over she goes
to the large stairway and sits on the second step watching the front
door. Her hands absently caress the wooden banister, seeking comfort in
the familiar carvings, knowing each shape and indent from a lifetime
spent here. Her house. Her home. Letting out a long sigh, she hopes the
policeman will arrive before Gina comes in from the garden. 5

Soho, London--The present

?Congratulations, mate.?The man with the sweaty face slapped him hard,
maybe a little too hard on the back as he passed the bar. ?Great party!?

Rob gave him a perfunctory grin, his cocaine-tightened jaw muscles
aching. The stranger disappeared into the mass of dancing bodies,
praising along with Fat Boy Slim. Who the hell were all these people
anyway? He scanned the crowd for Janine but couldn't make her out
anywhere. She was probably in the toilet topping up her party spirit,
and with the way he was feeling maybe he should join her. He drained his
glass of champagne and shrugged off the idea. Shit, there was enough of
Columbia's favorite export rushing around his system to make an elephant
high, and if it wasn't working by now why keep trying?

He sighed as the pounding bass line invaded his skull. What was the
matter with him? He should be feeling on top of the world. New book,
great reviews. Hadn't that been the story of his life ever since he'd
penned The

6

Pyramid Man more than ten years ago? Life had been easy for Robert
Black, literary genius extraordinaire. Well, maybe not quite a literary
genius, but his books sold, sold a lot, and that's what counted in the
big, bad world. So why the hell did his soul seem to ache so much these
days?

For a moment he wished Michael were still here, but his agent had left
hours ago along with all the journos and reviewers, sensing rightly that
as usual the party was heading off in a new and psychedelic direction.
And Michael hadn't even bothered trying to lecture him this time. Maybe
he was finally giving up on getting his star writer back on the straight
and narrow, who knew? And who the fuck cared, he still got his ten
percent, didn't he? Rob was still producing the goods, ever-increasing
cocaine habit or not, which was something of a mystery to himself as
well as the rest of the world.

Turning around and leaning his torso on the black marble bar, he tried
to get the attention of the girl who was opening yet another bottle of
champagne to fill the empty glasses of all those people who'd turn up to
the opening of a can of baked beans if it meant a free drink. She
finally caught his eye and brought the bottle over, frowning when he
told her in no uncertain terms to leave it with him. Hah. At least he
was the mug paying for it. For a fleeting moment he wondered just how
much this party was going to cost him, and then he caught sight of his
reflection in the wall of mirrored glass that lined the back of the bar.

The sweaty, pale face he barely recognized stared back at him with empty
eyes. He could see his jaw muscles working in his thin face, the face of
someone who was in danger of looking much older than his thirty-seven
years, the hollowed-out cheekbones creating lines where there shouldn't
yet be any. But the face he could live with. It was the eyes that
worried him. They were unhappy eyes that skulked beneath the dark hair,
hopeless, blue in all sense of the word. They weren't his. They belonged
to a stranger. This is no way to live a life, they screamed

7

silently at him from their prison in the glass. This is no way to live
our life. Nothing works anymore.

As he stared at himself, the atmosphere of the club suddenly seemed
oppressive. For a moment Rob felt a rush of nausea. He turned away from
his reflection and back toward the throng of people having a good time.
He ran a hand through his short hair and felt the chill of damp skin as
his fingers brushed his forehead. It was time to get out of here. It was
definitely time to get out of here. But where the hell was Janine?
Cursing under his breath, although he may as well have been shouting for
all his words could be heard over the music, he started to push his way
through the groups of dancing people, eyes scanning in the flashing
lights for her shock of peroxide hair. The heat on the dance floor was
unbearable, and he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin. Finally he
spotted her, her red dress flashing in the lights as she moved her slim
form energetically in the middle of the room. Yeah, that was just like
Janine. Had to be center of everything. He wondered whether she actually
knew him any better than any of the other strangers who surrounded him.
Probably not, he decided as he reached for her shoulder. But then, that
was what you got when you started screwing a model with a coke habit,
ten years younger than you. It was hardly going to be a relationship
based on mutual respect and understanding.

?Robby, honey!?She squealed and threw her hot arms around his neck. Her
mascara had run down her cheeks and her long hair was sticking to her
face. ?Where have you been??Rob noticed the two men she'd been dancing
with throwing him a dirty look, then moving on. He ignored them.

?It's time to go,? he shouted, hoping she would read his lips, as he
took her arm and pulled her through the overfilled club. When they
reached the slightly quieter bar area, he felt a petulant tug on his arm
and turned to face her. She looked sulky.

8

?You're kidding, right? The party's just getting going.?He stared back
at her, not in the mood for an argument.

?You can stay if you want, but I'm going. I'm not in the mood for this
tonight. I've had enough.?And the party was supposed to be about me,
remember? he wanted to add. About me and my book. ?And anyway, it's
three in the fucking morning. We've been here since six.?

Janine was chewing her bottom lip with indecision, but he knew she'd
come with him. After all, most of her modeling career these days was
based on the fact that they were an item. Photos of them together in the
tabloids were invariably accompanied by articles wondering which one of
them would burn out first. She was becoming too unreliable to employ,
even by modeling standards. Hating himself for being so harsh, he kissed
her on the forehead. None of this was her fault. Being a shit was
something he seemed to be getting pretty good at these days. No, it
wasn't Janine's fault and if nothing else, they were at least convenient
for each other. ?Now come on home and make an old man happy.?This time
when he tugged at her arm, he didn't feel any resistance.

Not that many hours later his own desperate voice woke him, the force of
the dream making him call out as he sat bolt upright in bed, panting,
eyes suddenly wide open as consciousness flooded back. The ghost of the
word still hung invisible in the air in front of him. TEACHER. Leaning
back against the headboard, he took a deep breath as his eyes adjusted
to the morning sunshine and his heart slowly calmed down to its normal
steady beat. Jesus, why would he be dreaming about Teacher after all
this time? That shit happened more than twenty years ago, probably as
long ago as he'd last thought about it. What the hell made his brain
bring it up now? He didn't really need anyone to answer that one for
him. All the goddamn fucking drugs and booze, that's what it was. What a
fucking mess. He swung his legs over the side of the untidy, empty bed

9

and got up, pulled apart the curtains and tugged open the sash windows,
needing to feel the morning sun on his face, wanting to rid himself of
the lingering unsettled feeling, the residual sadness of the dream. The
warm breeze caressed him, lifting his hair, the mingling smell of fresh
coffee and sweet pastries floating up from the smart Soho cafes below.
He stood there for a few moments with his eyes closed enjoying the
sensation, until he heard the toilet flushing. Janine. He'd forgotten
she was there.

Sighing, the private moment over, he pulled his head back inside and
took his white dressing gown from the back of the door and put it on.
His head and body ached from the excesses of the night before. Shit, if
he were honest he ached from the night before, and the night before that
and the night before that. Hot coffee and a long shower. That was what
he needed. The clock by the bed read 9:30 am. He probably could have
done with another couple of hours' sleep, but there would be no point in
trying now. He'd never been one of those people. The minute his eyes
opened, that was it. No going back, a new day had begun whether he was
ready for it or not.

Padding out of the bedroom, he yawned as he made his way down the
hardwood hallway and into the large open-plan living room and kitchen.
The sun was bursting through the skylights and reflecting off the pure
white of the walls and furniture, filling the enormous area with
brightness. God, he loved this flat. In the eyes of some it probably
would have been seen as overclinical, but for Rob it was perfect, the
lack of clutter and color soothing his mind, enabling him to work. This
room was where he wrote, ate and sometimes slept. It was his sanctuary
from the darkness inside him.

This morning its tranquillity was somewhat ruined by the sight of Janine
kneeling by the square, glass-topped coffee table, dressed only in a
t-shirt, her hair hanging lank and unbrushed as she concentrated on
chopping herself out a large line of coke. Feeling his disgust at her, at

10

both of them, rising from his stomach, he watched her for a minute. God,
she wasn't looking so good these days. She was getting old before her
time, not a good thing in her profession. Guilt gnawed at his stomach.
What the hell was he letting her do to herself? The guilt made him angry.

?Shit, Janine, at this time in the morning??Ignoring him, she started to
roll up a twenty-pound note, and lower her head over the table. Not
wanting to watch, not wanting to be tempted, Rob went to the kitchen and
turned the coffee machine on, hoping the familiar rumbling would drown
out the sound of her snort. There was nothing sexy about watching
beautiful women take drugs. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a large
white mug. Maybe it was the hangover making him so ratty. He should be
used to Janine's ways by now. Christ, he was hardly that far behind her
himself and not really in any position to throw stones. She wasn't such
a bad kid, just a fuckup like the rest of them.

?Did you have that bad dream again? The one about your teacher??She
giggled behind him, and he turned around to see her wiping the dregs of
powder from her nose and licking her fingers. ?What did that guy do to
you at school anyway??

He ignored her and went to the fridge to get the milk. Janine was not a
person he would ever want to talk to about Teacher. In fact, he hadn't
talked about it since that summer, since there had been the four of
them: him, Jason, Carole-Anne and Gina. Anyway, big deal though it
seemed at the time, it probably had been just their overactive
imaginations. He was about to pour the coffee when something Janine had
said made him stop in his tracks and look at her quizzically. ?What do
you mean, 'again'? Have I had that dream before??

Still kneeling by the table, she nodded. ?Sure. You've woken up shouting
that word at least three or four times in the last fortnight.?She raised
an eyebrow. ?Probably more, but that's the amount of times you've woken me

11

up.?She held up the twenty-pound note. ?Want one??

He looked at her, at the note and at the paper wrap on the table, and
that was when it struck him. It was time to go home. It was time to get
out of all this while he still could. Maybe that's what the dreams were
about. It's time to go home.

An hour later, he was just getting out of the shower. Janine was gone.
He'd sat down, drunk his coffee and gently explained to her that he was
going home to the country to clean up. It was nothing personal, but he
just couldn't do this anymore. He needed to be straight. He needed to
concentrate on his work. All the usual platitudes you come out with when
you want someone out of your life. Quickly. There had been a few tears
but nothing major, and part of him had been slightly disappointed with
how well she'd taken it. But then, the parting gift of his stash of
grade-A party chemicals probably had gone some way in softening the
blow. The glittering London scene was nothing if not shallow, so what
had he really expected? Still, the whole experience left him feeling
hollow, emptier than normal, if that was possible.

He'd made the right decision. He knew that by the sudden keening ache he
felt to be back home. Somewhere that he had roots. Somewhere he could
rediscover himself, the person he should be. Someone happy. Shit, maybe
he'd even write a book, the book, the one all writers want. His magnum opus.

He pulled on his jeans and a white t-shirt, and rubbed the towel
vigorously over his head to dry his hair before going back barefoot into
his blissfully empty lounge. He sat on the sofa and opened his address
book, then punched in a number. It rang for a second before a voice
answered. ?Property-Lettings, can I help you??

?Can I speak to Richard Mills, please??There was a moment of Robbie
Williams singing as his call was transferred.

?Richard Mills speaking.?

Rob had pulled a cigarette from the packet Janine had

12

left behind and lit it. You could only give your vices up one at a time.
?Hi, it's Robert Black here. I just wondered if you'd let my parents
house out yet?? The old tenants had moved out a week ago, and although
there had been a few repairs to do, Rob knew that the agency was good
and invariably had people ready to go straight in. They'd been looking
after the house since his mother died, and that was coming up for five
years now.

?I've got a viewing on it this afternoon, but the decorators are still
in there. I should have it let for you in a couple of days.?

Smiling, he inhaled. It must be destiny. ?Hold that thought. I'm going
to come and live in it myself for a few months. Sorry to give you such
short notice, but I only decided this morning.?

The voice at the other end remained friendly. ?No problem. I can have
the keys ready for you to pick up in a couple of days. That'll give me
time to make sure all the work's been done properly. Are you going to
write a new book while you're up here??

?Something like that. I just need some peace and quiet to get my ideas
in order. I'll see you in a couple of days, then.?

As soon as he'd hung up, Rob started making the next call. He didn't
need his address book for this one. Michael had been his agent for so
long that even if they never spoke again Rob probably would be able to
recite the number on his death bed without any difficulty at all. His
grin stretched as he heard Michael's laconic drawl at the other end. His
agent was just going to love this.

13

Streatford wasn't a town that had much going on for teenagers during the
weekend. Not unless you counted the youth center on London Road, but no
one over the age of ten who didn't want to get beaten up at school would
even think about going there. Not even the nerds, or the posh kids who
lived in the village rather than the estate on the outskirts. Their
parents normally drove them and their friends up to Fat Sam's at the
city center or the big multiplex cinema for their Saturday nights. But
Sharnice wouldn't go there even if her mum offered to take her. Not that
that was very likely.

The evening was chillier than she'd expected, and although the walk down
from Gallows Hill had warmed her up, as she waited for the boys in one
of the alleyways behind the small high street, she shivered, pulling her
denim jacket tighter around her thin mini-dress. What was taking them so
long? It had only just turned six, so the liquor store wouldn't be too
busy, and they hadn't done this for ages so the cashier should be off
his guard. There shouldn't be a problem. Darren and Lee had been experts

14

at nicking since they'd been about eight, around the time the three of
them had started hanging out together. The liquor store jobs always took
two people, and she couldn't do it because her mum went in there too often.

It worked like this. One boy would go in and start to browse the
shelves. A couple of minutes later, the other one would follow. They
would act as if they didn't know each other. The first boy would take a
bottle of something expensive, like champagne, from the shelf and make a
run for it. There was only ever one staff member working at that time of
the evening, and he would invariably give chase. Then the second boy
would take a bottle of something they really wanted, like Thunderbird,
and saunter happily away. The first boy would abandon the champagne
farther down the road to save being chased further, and go and meet the
others where agreed. Job done. It never failed. On the couple of
occasions that the shop assistant had been too fat and lazy to give
chase, it just meant they'd had a huge bottle of champagne to drink. But
nice as it was, the Thunderbird was more in line with their
fifteen-year-old palates. It got you drunk quicker.

Moving from foot to foot in an effort to shake off the cold, Sharnice
smiled as she saw Lee strolling toward her. He unzipped his large Puffer
jacket and tugged out the bottle with the red label. ?Worked like a
fucking dream. Those wankers will never learn.?He pulled a packet of
Marlboros from his pocket, took two out and lit them before handing her
one. They smoked in silence until they heard the pounding of Darren's
sneakers on concrete as he emerged from the increasing gloom. He
stopped, and leaned against the wall, panting as he laughed. ?Christ,
that bastard could run! I thought he was going to fuck the champagne and
come after me.? His acne-ridden face was sweating as he paused and
grinned at the others. ?He was severely pissed off. Next time, you can
do the running.?

Lee laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. ?Only if you think you
can't handle it, you fat bastard.?

15

Sharnice watched them play wrestle each other for a few moments, their
carefully gelled hair glinting along with the gold earrings they each
wore in their right lobe. She ground the finished cigarette out beneath
the sole of her sneaker. ?So where shall we go then??

The boys separated and Darren snorted and then spat the phlegm away onto
the pavement. ?I dunno. The cemetery??He looked at the others for
approval, but they didn't seem too enthusiastic.

Lee shoved his hands into the pockets of his baggy jeans. ?Bored of
that. We always go there. Why don't we go down to the river??

Darren and Sharnice shrugged and without the appearance of a better
idea, it seemed the plan for the evening was fixed. They made their way
through the village toward the lane that led down to the fields and the
water, the crunching of gravel beneath their feet the only sound to
invade the comfortable silence that came with years of unexamined
friendship. Before long, the track meandered past the last of the houses
and down to the small overgrown path along the riverbank. The evening
air was dimmer here away from the streetlights and as Sharnice followed
the boys across the old wooden bridge covering the slow-flowing Ouse
with its wild, living borders, it seemed as if the edges of their bodies
had blurred with the grayness of the fields in front of them. She moved
faster to keep up with them as they strode across the grass to the old
playground where they had played as children. Darren sat on a swing that
came barely up to his knees, and lit a cigarette, before hawking and
spitting; a habit rather than a necessity.

?Give us a drink before I die of old age, mate.?

Lee laughed, and pulled the bottle out of his coat, opening it with a
flourish before taking a long swig and passing it to Darren. He nodded
in Sharnice's direction. ?Ladies first.?

She smiled, and the sweetness of it transformed her plain

16

face into something almost pretty. Darren and Lee were like the brothers
she never had, like the family she never had. Especially Darren, whose
home life was like a reflection of her unhappy own. Things perfectly
understood without ever having been spoken. Lee was slightly different.
His parents were together for a start, they both worked and they never
got drunk and hit their kids. Sure, they may live on the estate and they
might not have much money, but it wasn't the same. It definitely wasn't
the same.

She took the Thunderbird and a satisfying swallow, feeling the liquid
warming her insides. Still she was cold, the wind stronger here on the
edge of the countryside. Flicking her mousy hair out of her face, she
screwed up her nose. ?We're not going to stay here all night, are we? I
hate this fucking place.?Her tone was dull, belying her unease. When she
was seven, she'd almost frightened herself to death here. She had come
down to play alone after school, her mother unable to control her
daughter's unruly behavior or her own. While Sharnice was throwing rocks
into the water with a child's enjoyment found purely in the splashes,
the old man had called out to her with that papery voice, making her
jump and turn to see him shuffling toward her on the bank smiling a
terrible, old wrinkly grin, those old withered hands reaching for her

Oh, how she had run. She had run and run until her breath burned in her
chest, her ankles twisting under her, threatening to give way as her
feet pounded all the way home. She had run from his oldness and his
terrible smile and all his yellow and brown teeth. She had dreamed of
those teeth for months, getting closer and closer to her as if that
awful mouth could swallow her whole. And although real life soon put
that small episode into perspective--the old bastard probably was only
going to ask where her mum was or something--it had left her with a
nervous dislike for these wide-open spaces surrounded by bushes and
trees. Dark areas where anything

17

could be watching and waiting. Old things with yellow teeth.

Lee scuffed at the ground with his sneakers. ?God, this town is shit.
There's nothing to fucking do here. We might as well be fucking dead.?He
took another mouthful from the bottle.

Sharnice wrapped her arms around herself. ?Well, if you two are just
going to hang around here, then I'm going home. It's too fucking cold to
sit around in a pissing field.?

Darren scowled at her. ?Sometimes, Sharny, you sound like all those
other dumb bitches at school. What do ya want to go home for? Your mum's
only going to have some drunk bloke there.? He ignored the sharp look
that came at him through the murky twilight. ?Well, isn't she? At least
we've got booze and fags. So what if it's a bit cold? Get over it.?

?I told you. I hate this shithole.?Leaning on the climbing frame so she
didn't have to look directly at him, she sniffed loudly, her nose
beginning to run. ?Anyway, I don't have to do what you tell me,? she
said to the invisible ground. ?I don't have to do what any wanker tells
me. So go fuck yourself.?Pushing herself away from the metal, she got
ready to head home.

?I know where we can go. Somewhere we haven't been before.?

Sharnice stopped and looked at Lee. Darren was looking, too. ?Oh yeah?
Where's that, then??His curious tone was tainted with annoyance that Lee
had come up with an idea before him. ?It'd better be good.?

Lee stuffed the bottle back inside his jacket and zipped it up. ?It
is.??Come on, then.?Grinning, he started walking down to the towpath.
Sharnice and Darren looked at each other, their disagreement forgotten
while they decided whether to follow their undeclared leader. Lee had
stopped at the bridge. ?Well, come on!?

18

The other two started walking like they'd known they would. ?Aren't you
going to tell us where we're going??The dampness of the grass was
soaking through Sharnice's shoes and she was glad to get back onto a dry
surface, pleased to see the pale yellow of the path reflecting the last
of the dying light.

Lee poked her in the ribs. ?I'll tell you when we get there.?Looking at
his friends' doubtful faces, he held his hands up in supplication.
?You'll like it, I promise! You'll both like it, honest. I just wish
we'd thought of it before. Now get your arses moving!?Laughing, the
three of them started out on the towpath.

They had only been walking for about five minutes or so when the path
came to a T-junction and disappeared into a gravel track just wide
enough for one car to drive down. Darren and Sharnice instinctively
turned left to head up toward the main road, but Lee called them back.
?We're going this way.?

Sharnice giggled. ?But there's nothing down there. Just that old house
on Toombes Meadow. And that's all boarded up.?

Lee was smiling. ?So? You reckon I can't get in if I want to??

Darren was looking doubtful. He'd heard that place was alarmed. They
used to have dogs patrolling it, although he had to admit, that was a
long time ago. To tell the truth, like most of the town, he'd kind of
forgotten that the house was there. ?I dunno, Lee. Maybe it's not such a
good idea.?

Sharnice said nothing, but Lee's enthusiasm was infectious. In the end,
he took the decision out of their hands. ?Don't be a pair of pillocks
all your life.?He started to jog away from them, calling over his
shoulder, ?I'll race you. Last one to the gates has to go to school for
the whole day tomorrow. Now come on!?

Sharnice was laughing as she broke into a sprint. ?Just don't drop that
fucking bottle!?

19

Darren watched her tearing down the lane, kicking dust up in her wake,
before grinding out his cigarette. ?Stupid bastards,?he muttered to the
empty air, before starting to run himself. ?Oy! Wait for me!?It wasn't
long before he caught up.

After easily climbing over the old chin-high wrought-iron gates,
ignoring the tatty ?Keep Out?sign hanging limp from the railings, the
three of them stood panting on the neglected drive gazing at the house.
It wasn't yet dark, although the moon was beginning to show her face,
and the building was like a rebellious shadow reaching up toward the sky
instead of clinging despairingly to the ground.

?Fuck me, it's huge, innit??Lee said.

Darren shrugged and coughed, the run in the cold air hurting his lungs.
?Nah. It's not that big. Just looks it 'cos it's all by itself.?

Sharnice was glancing nervously at the hulking shapes of the sprawling
plants and trees that surrounded them. ?Got a big garden, though. Does
the wall go all the way around??

?Yeah, I think so. I guess they must have wanted their privacy, building
a house out here. Let's see if we can get in.?

They walked three abreast, sniffing in the chill, until they were close
enough to see the huge sheets of stained wood that covered the windows.
Lee took the two stone steps leading up to the chipped front door in one
bound. ?Well, there's no padlock or nothing,?he called to Sharnice and
Darren, who were off to his left trying to find a weakness in the nails
hammered down tight years ago. He gave the heavy wood a shove, then
stood there for a moment. ?Hah! Fuck me! It's fucking open! I don't
fucking believe it!?He laughed, before disappearing inside.

Standing behind Darren, looking at the curving staircase in front of the
open doorway, Sharnice licked her lips apprehensively. ?Don't you think
it's a bit weird??Her voice wasn't much more than a whisper.

The boys were moving away from her, eager to explore

20

their new territory. ?What are you on about??Lee was behind the stairs
and opening a door that may once have led into the kitchen, but was now
just another ripped out room.

Sharnice didn't move. ?Well, don't you think it's a bit weird that the
door was open? I mean, all those windows boarded up, but the door is
fucking open? Maybe there's squatters here or something.?Or maybe just
something old and horrible with yellow rotting teeth. She shivered the
thought away.

Darren had come down the stairs and met Lee at the bottom, the two of
them opening the door to their left. Lee smiled at Sharnice and shook
his head. ?No squatters here. There's no water or electricity or
nothing. It was cut off years ago.? His arm vanished inside the room and
he flicked the switch. Nothing happened. ?See??

She stuck her tongue out at him, then followed them into the room. They
sat down in the middle of the dusty floorboards, the boys cross-legged,
Sharnice with her legs tucked sideways under her. Lighting cigarettes
for all of them, Lee passed around the bottle of Thunderbird.

?It's warm in here. Feels like someone's had a fire going or something,
don't you reckon??Darren was staring up at the high white ceiling. ?This
house must have some kind of insulation to keep it warm when it's empty.?

Sharnice took several gulps from the bottle. She didn't like this house.
She didn't like it one little bit, and she didn't know why. ?It wasn't
warm when we came in. It was freezing. It's only just got warm.?

The two boys looked at her for a second, and then at each other and
laughed. ?Sappy cow. Are you going all psychic on us??Darren said.

She didn't get a chance to answer as the bulb above them flickered for a
few seconds and then came on, bathing them in yellow light. ?I thought
you said this house didn't have no electric??she breathed.

Lee shrugged, looking slightly confused. ?Well, that's

21

what my dad said. He must have got it wrong.?He grinned. ?Lucky for us, eh??

Darren stretched out backwards, resting his elbows behind him. ?How
would your dad know anything about this house anyway??

?He does the cleaning at that law place on the high street, you prat.
They look after this place.?

Darren snorted into his drink. ?I wouldn't exactly call this 'looking
after the place.' It's a fucking abandoned ruin! Why don't they let it
out or sell it??

Lee took the bottle. ?You don't know much about this place, do ya?
Didn't your mum tell you the story when you were a kid? Mine's still got
the old newspaper pages. It was the biggest thing to ever happen in this
shitty town.?

Sharnice frowned at him. ?Our mums never told us stories when we were
kids. And the closest mine gets to a newspaper is when she buys her fags
at the shop.?

Darren laughed. ?You're right there, Sharny. I know exactly where you're
coming from. So come on then, posh boy, what's the story??

?If you want to hear it, then you can cut out the 'posh boy' shit, all
right??

Sharnice edged in closer. ?He didn't mean it. Come on, tell us what
happened.?It was definitely warmer in here now, and she took off her
jacket. Maybe it was just the booze heating her up from the inside.
That's what she liked about Thunderbird. It gave her a comfortable muggy
buzz in her head. She had that now, here with her old friends.

Lee sniffed. ?All right then. Some of this I know from what my mum told
me, and some of it's what my dad said from what he's heard when he's
cleaning.?He paused to make sure he had his audience's full attention.
?This house belonged to some woman who was married with a kid. Her dad
used to own that mill, you know, the one that burnt down a few years
ago, the one at the other end of the towpath??

22

Sharnice and Darren nodded. They knew the one. It had been closed for
years before the fire destroyed it.

?So anyway, he was pretty rich and he bought Toombes Meadow and built
his house here. When the woman grew up, she got married, and when her
parents got too old to manage by themselves she put them in some posh
old folks home and her family moved back in.?

Sharnice raised an eyebrow. ?Charming. She could have at least looked
after them.?Not that she'd do it for her mum, but then her mum was
different. Her mum was a cow. She took another drink from the bottle.
Yeah, drunk was good.

?Yeah, well maybe her husband didn't want two droolers around the place,
who knows??He inhaled hard on his cigarette. ?And it wasn't like they
couldn't afford to pack them off. The husband was pretty wealthy. Worked
in London in stocks and stuff.?

?Lucky old him,?Darren said.

Lee laughed. ?Not so lucky as it turned out. One day, the wife stabbed
him fifteen times in the chest while cutting up the vegetables for
dinner. Their kid was playing outside. My mum says she was still
screaming when the police turned up. Standing in the kitchen over her
dad's dead body, screaming her guts out.?

Sharnice shivered even though she was warm. ?How come the police came??

?The wife rang them. Calm as anything. Told them there'd been 'a
terrible accident.'?He snorted. ?She had a way with fucking words, you
got to give her that. She's just knifed her husband to death and she
wants to call it 'a terrible accident.' I mean, fuck me!?

Darren was smiling. ?So what happened then??

Lee stubbed his butt out on the floor beside him. ?Well, the mother
ended up in some loony bin somewhere, and the little girl went to live
with some relatives. The house is hers now. From what my dad said, when
she was little, the people she was living with wanted to sell it for
her, but

23

she wouldn't let them. I think she's grown up to be a bit of a loony
tune like her mother 'cos even though she doesn't want anything to do
with this place, she won't sell it or let it out. She just wants it to
rot until it falls down or the council knocks it down. She doesn't want
anyone to live in it again. Ever.?He paused. ?Now that's what I call
fucking weird.?

The light above them flickered as Sharnice shook her head. She wished
she hadn't encouraged Lee to tell them the story. She hadn't liked the
place to begin with and now it was starting to make her feel
claustrophobic. ?I don't think it's weird. I mean, who'd want to live
here anyway? It's a horrible creepy old place. If it belonged to me, I
think I'd demolish it. Break it down so there was just dust left. Not
even one fucking brick.?

She got up and started to pace the room, enjoying the light-headedness
while the boys drained the last of the bottle. The bulb above them
started to hiss, but Sharnice's voice drowned it out as she spun around,
an excited smile dancing on her face. ?Or burn it down, like someone did
to that old mill! Yeah, that's what we should do, burn it down.?

Darren laughed, ?Yeah right, Sharnice.?He shook his head at Lee.

?I'm serious. It'd liven this town up a bit for a few days. The best
bonfire they've seen in fucking years. And shit, the owner'd probably
thank us. Why not? No one'd know it was us. Why should they? They never
found the kids who did the mill, did they??Her eyes were sparkling.

Lee lit a cigarette as he thought. ?We'd need a lot of petrol. I bet
this place is really damp.?

Darren stared from one friend to the other as he did up his jacket,
unconsciously aware of the chill seeping back into the room. ?You're not
fucking serious, are you??Neither of the others spoke. ?Shit, I knew it
was a bad idea coming here.?

Lee laughed. ?What's the matter with you? Not going

24

chicken on us, are you? It's not as if anyone fucking lives here, is it?
It's just an empty old unwanted house.?

Sharnice sniggered, unable to understand the intensity of her feelings.
?Yeah, we'd just be putting it out of its misery. And at least it'd be
something to do.?

Darren felt a small smile growing. ?You two are fucking crazy, but if
you want to do it, then I'm in. When??

The idea had made them all excited, and if it were up to Sharnice they'd
do it now. Tonight. Just burn it down and get rid of it. Finish it.

Lee passed his half-smoked cigarette to Darren. ?We'll have to leave it
a couple of weeks. Until it starts getting dark earlier. I know no one
really comes down here, but we don't want to get seen by some pissing
old dog walker as we head this way with a load of petrol. Yeah, a week
or two should do it. Then it should be perfect.?

?So we'll do it then??Sharnice was jumping up and down, her small
breasts jiggling with the movement.

?Yeah, we'll do it.?

Smoking her own Marlboro Light, Sharnice gazed around in silence for a
few minutes, imagining the walls dying with the fire, consumed by
flames. Yeah, it was going to be a good feeling watching that. Standing
outside in the cold, seeing the house destroyed. She'd definitely get
drunk that night.

Lost in her own reverie, she didn't notice that the boys had stood up
until the door slammed shut, making her jump. ?Jesus, what the fuck was
that??

Staring at her, Lee shrugged. ?Must be a draft.? His voice was odd,
quieter than normal. Suddenly, she thought of yellow teeth. An old mouth
filled with yellow teeth. She wanted to get out of here. Now. And
whatever warmth they thought they might have felt was gone now. ?Pass me
my jacket, Darren. I'm fucking freezing. Let's go. I'm bored of this place.?

Neither of the boys moved, and the cold air hung heavily

25

between them. For a moment she felt as if she couldn't breathe. A sly
look passed from one boy to the other.

?Come on, stop fucking around.?Walking toward them, she tried to get to
where her jacket lay abandoned on the ground.

Darren grabbed her firmly by the arm. ?Not yet.?

Trying to pull herself free, she looked over to Lee, not wanting to let
her panic show. ?Sort him out, will you??What the fuck were they playing at?

Lee giggled as he tossed the empty bottle from one hand to the other.
?We're not going anywhere. Not just yet.?He moved in closer as Darren
yanked her to the ground. She was struggling for real now as his stale
breath covered her face. ?We've had an idea for something we can do
right now, you see? And I think you're going to like it. I really do.?

She tried to scream as Lee tugged at her clothes, before the hard punch
on the side of her head left her blinded and gasping for breath. Oh God,
why were they doing this to her? Why were they doing this? Oh God ...

The light bulb, so far above her, went out, leaving them in darkness.

26

It had only been two hours since he'd locked up his flat in London, but
it felt like a lifetime away as Rob stood at the doorstep of his
parents' house on Dulverton Road with his laptop bag hanging over his
shoulder and his one suitcase beside him on the step. Even though he'd
planned all this a few days ago, it still felt surreal to him. Back in
Streatford after all this time. He stared at the door for a few moments,
unsure whether he could bring himself to go in. To commit himself to his
?new life.?

Shaking his head--after all it was a Sunday morning and the cab had
left, so there wasn't really anywhere else to go--he lifted the small
flowerpot to his right and retrieved the Yale key that Richard Mills had
left for him earlier this morning.

Pull yourself together, Black, he thought as he slid it into the lock.
It's not exactly like you're going to be walking into a house full of
memories, is it? It's been decorated and refurnished at least a couple
of times since you last saw it, so get a grip.

Still, as he stepped across the threshold, the smell of

27

fresh paint lingering in the peach hallway, it felt like coming back
home. The color may have been different- peach?--but the structure of
the house remained the same. And peach wasn't that far off his mother's
love of pinks and purples and terrible combinations of the two. The
thought of her awful taste in decor made him smile, although there was a
tinge of sadness there. He should have made more of an effort to visit.
Especially in her later years, once he'd finished boarding school and
university. He'd been a late child, so she'd been in her sixties by
then. He was all she had, and he knew how proud of him she'd been from
all her letters. Why had he always been too damn busy to come?

He slammed the door shut firmly behind him. Cut the self-analytical
crap. The past is dead and buried. It's been dead since you put her in
the ground next to Dad, Dad who'd been waiting patiently for her for
such a long time. It's done. Over. Let it go. Check it in at the door.

Leaving his emotions for another day, he made his way through the large
Edwardian terrace, refamiliarizing himself with it. Even though compared
with his Soho flat it seemed over-furnished, in actual fact, it wasn't
too bad. All the colors were pale and, thank God for small mercies,
there were no floral curtains. The large rooms with high ceilings gave
similar feelings of space, and looking at the old fireplace in the
lounge, he pushed aside the dark thought that threatened to rise, and
instead remembered the joys of sitting in front of a real fire. Yeah,
this is where he'd do his reading, and probably any rewrites, should he
get that far. He probably should pick up a bag of coal this afternoon
from the garage. It was definitely getting colder outside, now that
summer was ending. He'd have to go out for groceries anyway. Making his
domestic plans, he felt his spirits start to lift. A fresh start, that's
what he was giving himself.

At the other end of the long hall was the kitchen, not that different
from how he remembered it. As a child, it

28

had been his favorite room in the house, its largeness broken by the
breakfast bar, with a pine table that could seat eight on one side of
it. He loved the bank of windows down one wall that let in so much
light; even now that winter was coming. This would be where he would
write. At this table, never far from the coffee machine. He could see it
now, padding down here first thing in the morning, getting his ideas
down while they were still fresh, the smell of warm coffee for company.
That was another thing he would have to buy. He'd rented the house out
with all the basic kitchen crockery and utensils, but a coffee machine
wasn't among them. He felt the urge to fetch his laptop and set it up
now all ready for the morning, but he figured that could wait. He had to
sort out the practical things today.

He went to the cupboard under the stairs and took note of the meter
readings to give to the gas and electric people on Monday morning, and
then he dragged his suitcase up the steep flight of stairs. How the hell
did she manage these? he wondered, thinking of his fragile
seventy-something-year-old mother. He had a vague memory of tumbling
down them himself when he was three or four. He'd cracked his skull on
the edge of the radiator at the bottom. Somewhere, under his hair, was
the scar to prove it.

At the top of the stairs, he put the suitcase down on its wheels with a
relieved sigh, and started to pull it down the corridor to the room at
the bottom next to the bathroom. Opening the door and looking in at the
queen size bed and small wardrobe, he stopped and grinned to himself.
Old habits died hard.

This was his childhood bedroom. Tucked away at the back of the house,
far enough away from his folks so that they didn't have to sing along
with every terrible record he'd played. Mum used to joke that she could
put him in a house at the other end of the street and she'd still be
able to hear his music. He'd lived in this room for twelve full

29

years, and then all the school holidays from boarding school until he
turned eighteen. Standing there, he could feel the ghost of the teenager
inside him stirring, and he was tempted to stay where he was and unpack
his suitcase. It was a strong temptation. To go back to a time full of
hopes and dreams. He paused. But time had moved on and you could never
go back, however much you might like to, if even for only a day or two.
And it was easy to forget that they hadn't all been good times in here,
tucked up in that bed. It isn't even that bed. That bed would have been
chucked out years ago. He picked up his suitcase and turned around. This
was about fresh beginnings.

He made his way back to the top of the stairs and turned right, pushing
open the door to what had been his parents' bedroom, their twin beds
pushed together, her side with a thin duvet, his with a thick one. Well,
the twin beds were gone, replaced by a king-size, and although there
were still built in wardrobes along the far wall, they were different
too. What took his breath away was the complete whiteness of the room,
from the carpet to the ceiling. It definitely hadn't been like this when
he'd been a child. If he remembered correctly, there'd been a hideous
lot of tans and beiges, but one of his recent tenants must have partly
shared his love of clinical emptiness. Everything was white, the bedside
table, the phone on the bedside table, the chest of drawers, and the net
that hung around the top of the four thin wooden posts that rose from
the modern bed. Shit, it was perfect. No clutter, no bookcases, no TV.
Just pure relaxing white. Yeah, he could sleep in here. No problem with
that. This was fucking fate.

Having left his suitcase in the hall, not wanting its navy blue to
disturb the pureness of the room, he picked up his keys and headed out
into the street hoping to find somewhere open to buy his basic
necessities for the night. This wasn't central London, and he wasn't
sure when stores opened on Sunday in the village. The big supermarkets

30

out of town would probably be open, but without the advantage of a car,
he wasn't willing to trek that far. There was a lot to get used to,
being back out of the big city, and as he strolled along the quiet road
he found he was looking forward to it.

It was nice to take a walk in peace, a walk for its own sake instead of
being caught up in the bustle of everyone just trying to get somewhere.

He turned away from The Plough, a large pub on the corner that had been
there as long as he could remember (although he had a vague memory of
his mother telling him that it used to be a schoolhouse back at the end
of the last century, maybe there was a story to be found there), and
headed up the narrow high street.

He was pleasantly surprised to see how little had changed. Sure, most of
the businesses had changed hands, but there was still a small
newsagent's on the left, and two family butchers a little farther up on
the right, separated by a couple of craft and gift shops. It still felt
like a small village center, despite the increasing amount of housing
estates being built closer and closer to its borders. It was a tiny
pocket in time, and Rob felt so many hints at memory, many just sensory
glimpses of a past long ago abandoned.

He almost laughed out loud when he saw the familiar green paintwork
outside a double-fronted shop, its window displaying all kinds of
hardware and household goods, from garden furniture to curtain rails,
the big black lettering on the awning proclaiming that you were passing
O'Neale's. So old man O'Neale hadn't been forced out by these changing
times, well there was a lucky surprise. He was glad about that.

O'Neale's had always been there, the kind of shop where you could get
exactly what it was you needed, and the old man always knew exactly
where to locate the tiniest item among the thousands of tiny drawers
behind the counter. An old-fashioned shop. Old man O'Neale would

31

never have a computerized stock system. He'd never need one. Everything
was locked neatly in that brain of his.

Shit, with all the time that had gone by, the old man was probably dead
by now. One of the twins must run it. It was strange to think of those
two little boys, a year or so below him in school, now grown men taking
over the family business, bringing it to a new generation. Strange, but
heart-warming. There was a solidity to life in Streatford that would
never exist in the fast river of London. People knew each other here.
They knew the stories of whole family trees. I always knew she'd be a
problem, didn't you? After all, surely you heard about her great-aunt
Beatrice? Well, you know what trouble she got herself into, and I can
see this one turning out just the same. It runs in the family.

Yeah, this really was the kind of town where old ladies gossiped in the
street or over their fences. Blood was thick here. There was no
anonymity. Maybe that was why he'd stayed away for all this time, he
thought as he pushed open the door to the tiny Spar supermarket, nestled
next to the old church of St. Mary and St. Giles. Maybe somewhere deep
inside he didn't want to face the ghosts.

The middle-aged woman behind the counter gave him a cheerful grin,
pleased to have his custom, no indifferent and exhausted foreign
language student with broken English serving here, and he found himself
smiling back. A genuine smile. Yeah, it was good to be home.

32

When the front door slammed shut, Carole-Anne let out a small breath and
shut her eyes, waiting for the sting in her cheek to fade. Her skin
tingled as the pain was replaced by numbness, and her shoulders sagged
as she leaned her heavy body forward on her forearms, the sturdy kitchen
table used to taking the weight. Some women got a kiss good-bye from
their husbands in the morning, or so the fairy tales always told you,
but not her. Not Carole-Anne Locke. However, there was the small bonus
that this time when he'd told her she'd deserved it, there was some
truth in the statement. There were no tears today, though. She was all
out of tears after all these years.

At least the boys hadn't been there for Daddy's daily outburst. How can
someone be so ugly and so stupid all at the same time? Swallow that
fucking food and answer me that, Carole-Anne. No, Luke and Mark had
already left for school. Not that she really cared anymore. Sometime, a
long time ago, they had been her babies, but now they were their
father's boys. Strangers grown inside her, and although deep down
somewhere she knew she must

33

love them, if she were honest she didn't like them very much. She
tiredly wondered whether her increasing fatness was a reflection of the
growing weight inside her as she pulled the local paper over from
Jimmy's side of the table next to his cooling coffee.

She stared at the front page, needing to think. The headline, in bold
black print read, local teens confess in rape case. But she ignored the
article, having learned all there was to know about that three days ago
in the butcher's. Her eyes were drawn to a smaller column down on the
right-hand side. This was what was unsettling her.

FAMOUS WRITER COMES BACK TO HIS ROOTS. It went on to

say that best-selling novelist Robert Black had returned to his hometown
of Streatford after an absence of almost twenty years. The paper hoped
to interview him in the near future, and ask if he intended to write his
next book here, and would the town feature in it in any way? All the
usual local news crap.

So Rob was back in town. Three of the four of them were here. Her, Rob
and Jason. Only Gina was missing. Not that Carole-Anne saw Jason much
anymore, just the occasional awkward 'hello' if they had to pass each
other in the street. After that summer, even though they stayed--had no
choice but to stay, stuck here in this dead-end town--their friendship
had drifted, oozed quietly away. She'd pretended that it was a natural
thing, just part of becoming a teenager, but she'd known deep inside
that wasn't it. After that summer, she hadn't really wanted to see him,
to see any of them. And she guessed it was the same for him.

By the time she'd met Jimmy two years later--and oh, what a glorious
thing that turned out to be--she and Jason were virtual strangers. New
friends, new lives, as if none of it had ever happened. Unlike Gina and
Rob, she and Jason may not have left Streatford in body, but somewhere
in their spirit they did. And slowly she'd forgotten. Put that summer
away in a box of hazy childhood

34

memories, barely ever revisited. Real life had taken over. The serious
business of growing up and being grown up. Until today. Today, the rusty
hinges of that mental treasure chest were creaking open.

First, that awful rape up at the house. They say she'll never be able to
have children. What did those boys do to her? I hear there was a bottle
involved. Girls these days never seem to learn. ... And then one week
later Rob was back. Could it just be a coincidence? But why the hell
would Rob, the big success, want to come back here?

Not that Rob had done much better than the rest of them. Not really.
She'd read the stories in the papers, sometimes with a touch too much
curiosity for Jimmy's liking. He'd never forgotten that she'd once had
such a crush on Robby; although how anyone who didn't give a shit about
her himself could get jealous over some schoolgirl thing from so long
ago, she'd never understand. But hey, that was her Jimmy, lucky girl
that she was. Yeah, she'd read all the stories, and if even only half of
them were true then despite all his money, Rob Black was in a pretty
sorry state. The drugs, the booze, the girls, all those girls, pretty
and blond, sharing an empty few months before the next one took her
place. She watched his life in pictures as it all took its toll. When
Jimmy had last ripped a tabloid from her hands and seen what she'd been
looking at, he'd snorted in disgust. ?How can someone have all that and
still look so fucking miserable??But then, Jimmy didn't get Rob. Jimmy
would never get Rob because, after all, Jimmy didn't know.

But she knew. She knew, even if he himself didn't, that Rob didn't want
to be happy. He didn't think he deserved to be happy. And she knew that
because she was there that summer, and maybe she knew because she'd
never gone away. She didn't have so many places to hide. Even Jason
eventually had gotten away from time to time, if you can call the odd
stretch in Parkhouse, getting away. Sometimes she wondered whether he
made sure he got caught

35

just so he could go somewhere he could breathe. It was a crazy idea if
he had, because now he'd trapped himself in Streatford. Who would employ
an ex-con these days except someone who knew you, or your mother, or
your auntie? And you had to give that to this town. It definitely knew you.

That summer had tainted them all, and now she had a feeling in her blood
that it was happening all over again. Again, but different. Maybe they
had gotten it wrong back then. Maybe they hadn't understood at all.
Something was starting; she could feel it fizzing in her. She'd felt it
when she poured the boiling water from the kettle over Jimmy's arm only
half an hour ago, and she could feel it in her last night when she took
the kitchen scissors to the boys' clean clothes in the washing basket
waiting for ironing, and then hurriedly hid them away when she realized
what she'd done.

She sighed and pushed the paper away, no answers to be found there.
Because maybe there was nothing but her. Maybe she was just going a
little bit crazy. How had her life come to this? A husband who beat her,
two kids she didn't like, not even a little bit, her looks disappearing
long ago into her saggy waistline. Where was the point of it all?

She remembered a time, back at the beginning of that fateful summer,
when she'd believed that life would hold better things for her. The
future looked exciting, so full of possibilities. She'd wanted a family,
yes, but not one like this. Not like this at all. She'd wanted a happy
family, a man who would work hard, a man who wanted to get off the
estate as much as she did. She'd wanted a life where the sun shone and
she'd been damn sure she was going to get it. When had that carefree
girl died? A long time ago, that's when. She'd died before Carole-Anne
Bradley had even set eyes on Jimmy Locke. Maybe she too hadn't felt she
deserved to be happy. Maybe that's why she'd chosen Jimmy.

36

Pushing the chair away from the table, she hauled herself to her feet
and picked up the cheap plastic handbag that she'd once thought might be
a passable imitation of soft leather. Whatever was or wasn't going on
with that house named Syracousse, she had things to do. The last
installment of the electric had to be paid; they'd had another one of
those nasty letters threatening to cut them off, and so that was going
to be the last of her cleaning money gone. Not that the two hours she
did each night between nine and eleven brought in very much, as Jimmy
was so fond of pointing out. She pushed her bitterness aside as she
pulled up her jacket and opened the front door. Maybe the walk down to
town would help clear her muggy, disturbed thoughts.

The gravel track hadn't changed in twenty years; the only difference she
could see was that it had gotten smaller. But she knew that wasn't
possible. A road was a dead thing; it didn't gain and lose weight,
withering to nothing like those who trod along its way. No, the track
hadn't shrunk; it was that she had grown. The last time she'd come down
here, Carole-Anne Bradley had been just about to turn thirteen. A slim,
shining girl with her whole life ahead of her. Now that girl was dead,
and this enormous husk was all that was left behind. As she walked, the
wind stung her eyes, creating a camouflage for the tears that were
threatening there.

Why she had turned away from the high street and headed for the river
she didn't really know; it was as if she had done it on automatic pilot,
the course change completely out of her control. Maybe a search for
answers had driven her, a need to understand what had happened to them
all that time ago, a need to unlock the secrets in her head, a child's
secrets too complex to understand. To see whether what she suspected was
right. And the only place she could do that was at Syracousse, the house
that was the root of it all.

Her breath was rapid as she saw the walls and gates

37

coming up ahead of her, her pace brisk, unsure of whether her fear would
make her turn back if she slowed her feet down to her normal speed. Why
was her heart pounding? ?It's just a house,?she whispered to the wind.
?It's just a house.?

She passed the main gates without glancing at the solitary building and
followed the curve of the bricks, leaving the gravel that headed up the
drive. She picked her way through the overgrown grass and stinging
nettles. They had never used the front entrance, and that wasn't where
she wanted to do her thinking now. She had to go back, back in her
memory, back to where it had all started. Her heart had slowed down now
that she had finally arrived, and she could almost hear the ghosts of
carefree childhood laughter. The laughter of three ordinary children
coming to play with their extraordinary, beautiful friend.

The old oak tree stood where it always had, and would stand for decades
to come. Just a little to its left, she fought through the long weeds
and brambles until she found the tiny gate, the wood almost black where
the damp had seeped into it time and time again over the abandoned
years. Peering through the mess of the gardens, she could just make out
the top of the old swing they had played on, although it was now listing
dangerously to one side, and somewhere beyond her vision was the large
pond, probably now dried up or covered with algae, something at least
living in this rotting home.

We are both shells, she thought, as she gazed at the walls that rose not
so very far from her. We are both empty shells in which people used to
live. What happened to us? She rested her hand on the gate and felt a
surge of warmth go through her. The wood was feeding the heat to her,
and her body started to tingle with the strength of it.

She wasn't surprised when it swung silently open on hinges that should
have roared with pain, and beckoned her in. The glow had reached her
head now, dulling her senses like a good joint used to back when she
first met

38

Jimmy. But better, better than that, because for the first time in a
very long time, she felt a little of the old Carole Anne stirring,
waking up in her light-headedness. Her feet itched to move forward, to
walk through those gardens she'd tried so hard to forget. Why, why had
she wanted to forget something so beautiful, so peaceful? How silly that
she hadn't come back before. Why hadn't she come back before? She wanted
to find a way in, and sit in the kitchen and dream for a while.
Everything was fading from her, Jimmy, the kids, Rob and Jason. Nothing
was important except to be here. Where she had been happy.

Far below, her feet started to move slowly forward as she gazed through
half-shut lids at the past. Everything would be better now. Everything.
She had come back home. The scented air filled her lungs as her mind
drifted, confused by sensation.

The kestrel dived with an ear-splitting screech toward its small prey,
its wings beating past her cheeks as if she weren't there, so intent was
it on its kill. Gasping with shock, Carole-Anne stumbled backwards, her
senses reeling as the chill flooded through her limbs, numbing her
fingers as if it had never really left. Once again on the other side of
the gate, the safe side, her head felt as if it had just been submerged
in icy water, her thoughts clear again. Her thoughts her own.

What was I doing? What did I think I was doing? Her heart was pounding
again, and her head began to ache, to throb in time with her internal
beat. She looked at the gate, which still stood open and inviting, with
wide eyes as the awful realization dawned inside her.

Oh Jesus, we got it wrong. We got it so wrong all that time ago. She
resisted the impulse to laugh, to laugh or cry, undecided as to which
urge was stronger. We were children, and we didn't understand. But oh
God, I think I understand now.

She had to talk to Jason and Rob. She had to find them and explain.
They'd listen to her. They wouldn't think she

39

was crazy. They were the only ones who could stop it. She'd put an end
to this if she had to drive the bulldozer herself.

She reached for the gate and defiantly grabbed it, pulling it shut.

?Shit!?she yelped as a splinter embedded itself in her finger, pushing
out her blood. She pulled her hand away and sucked it, then peered at
it, trying to squeeze out the wood, but it was lodged deep. God, it
hurt. Why did the little cuts always hurt the worst? Shaking her wrist
to try to alleviate the sting, she glared at the house before turning
away. She'd get the fragment out with tweezers when she got home. Pay
the electric, get rid of the splinter, then ring Jason and Rob. That's
what she had to do today. It was time to end it. To finish what had
started around them, what had never really let them go. Deep in her
pocket, the tip of her finger turned purple as the silent secret
expanded through her capillaries, merging into the warmth.

40

?You ought to put something on that hand. It looks like you might have a
bit of blood poisoning there.?Connor O'Neale's concerned face appeared
beside Carole-Anne as she stared at the row of colorful bottles in front
of her. For a moment she looked down absently at the mottled red that
was spreading up from her wrist and then grunted without concern.

?I have weeds. Weeds that I just can't kill.?Her voice was a monotone
and she didn't look at the man who had once had a soft spot for her when
he was two years behind her in school. Well, a soft spot probably
wouldn't be the right way to put it. A hard spot would be technically
more correct. Carole-Anne Bradley had been his masturbatory fantasy for
six glorious months of his third year. That was the longest he'd stayed
faithful to one girl in all his short, solitary sexual life, and he'd
been vaguely sad when his mind and hand had moved on to Jenna Compton of
the short skirts and too tight shirts.

Carole-Anne sniffed and wiped her nose with the back

41

of her injured hand. She didn't see the man grimace with distaste before
he spoke.

?What kind of weeds??

?Weeds that won't stop growing. I've got to get rid of them. They're
over-running the place, destroying everything.?She seemed to be talking
more to herself than him, but Connor was a professional and continued in
his cheerful, soft lilt.

?We can't have that, can we? You probably need something like this.?He
pulled a blue spray bottle from the shelf that had a big 'Pet Friendly'
label attached to the front. ?It needs about three applications, but it
works rather well and is a good value for the money, especially if your
garden isn't too ...?

?Don't have pets.?She picked up a smaller plastic container and turned
it around carefully in her large hands. Her eyes lingered on the danger
warnings declaring the contents toxic and corrosive. ?What about this??
For the first time she turned to look at Connor with his ruddy face and
green overalls, the small logo over the chest pocket reminding her where
she was shopping.

Connor looked concerned. ?Well, that's not one I normally recommend. It
has to be diluted quite a lot and you have to be careful handling it.
I'd normally only sell it to farmers or agricultural experts.?

Carole-Anne's eyes showed signs of life for the first time in the
increasingly dazed hour since she'd left Syracousse. ?Why is that??

?It contains Paraquat. It's quite a newly developed chemical, and
although it does the job well, it's very poisonous and there's no
antidote. Just a small amount can make all your major organs fail. Not
one to have around kids.?

She chewed her bottom lip before silently mouthing the name on the
label. Clean-Sweep. Yes, that would suit her very well. Clean-Sweep. She
smiled gently. ?My boys aren't babies anymore. I'll take it.?

42

Before Connor had a chance to protest, she pushed him out of the way and
went to the long old-fashioned payment counter behind which there was a
backdrop of a thousand tiny drawers, the contents of which Connor and
his brother knew by heart like their father before them. Connor watched
the fat woman walk away for only a moment before moving to help an
elderly gentleman in search of garden shears. His days of following
Carole Anne around were well and truly over.

?Good morning, Your Honor.?

The old man hadn't been a judge in twenty years, but Connor never forgot
to address him that way, in the shop or in passing, and the old man
appreciated it, especially now that most of his contemporaries were
either dead or had moved into that awful sheltered housing next to the
cricket ground, full of remains of people who no longer seemed to count.
Connor always made him feel as if he still counted. But then Connor had
lived in Streatford all his life.

?Good morning, young man. Good to see you. Now could you tell me which
of these shears has the sharpest and strongest blades??

By the time Jimmy got home, the boys had been upstairs deafening her
with music and television for more than an hour, but today she didn't
mind. She wasn't in much of a mood for conversation. After leaving
O'Neale's she'd gone to the butcher's and then trudged home with her
shopping before sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the bags in
front of her for two hours, maybe three, her head empty, void of
rational thought. Finally, she'd gotten up and started to make the
dinner. Her hand was in a bandage, not that it hurt; in fact, it felt
fine, but she didn't want Jimmy questioning her about what had happened
to it. You could still see the purply blue halfway up her forearm, but
with her sleeves pulled down that would stay invisible. Jimmy stood in
the doorway as she stirred the contents

43

of the pan, the spicy aroma filling the room with warmth. He watched her
warily. Carole-Anne's cooking normally ran to pizza and oven chips.
Anything that just could be thrown in the oven and that went with chips,
that was her forte.

?What are you doing??

She looked up and smiled at him, ignoring the pasty paunch that hung out
of the top of his trousers, ignoring the oil and petrol that covered his
hands and t-shirt from a day tinkering around under cars. He'd been
covered in dirt so long she thought it had probably seeped through to
his soul by now, although maybe that was a place where filth had always
lived. Maybe the dirt was leaking from the inside out.

?I wanted to make it up to you after my accident with the kettle this
morning. I'm cooking your and the boys' favorite. Chicken vindaloo.?

She saw the look of uncertainty on his worn-out face beneath the patches
of thinning hair that he refused to accept could no longer handle the
slightly long style he'd had since school.

?Don't worry. I've followed the recipe very carefully. It'll be
delicious.?She walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek as he took
his seat at the table. She opened a drawer, pulled out some knives and
forks, and then handed him a can of beer from the fridge. He took a long
swig as she arranged the cutlery around him.

?But you don't like Indian.?

Laughing lightly, she shrugged. ?That doesn't mean I can't make it for
you, does it? I've put a lasagne in the oven for me.?

He grunted. ?Well, I hope it's good. I'm fucking starving. Is it ready yet??

Carole-Anne called down the boys.

She didn't have to worry about them not eating it. If the Locke men were
anything, it was greedy. Mark had started

44

developing little love handles when he was ten, and now at nearly
fourteen, they were full-grown rolls of fat. Luke, only one year behind,
was thinner but not by much. By the time she sat down and started
nibbling at her lasagne, the three of them were guzzling the curry. She
felt a wave of disgust behind her numbness. Her ears filled with the
sound of smacking lips and slurped food. Animals. That's what they were.
Fat, slobbering animals, no use to anyone.

Luke grinned at her from behind his fork as he chewed, his blue eyes
sparkling. ?This is great, Mum.?

Mark nodded in agreement. ?Wicked.?

She smiled as she watched them eat.

Ten minutes later the boys didn't think their dinner was quite so
wonderful anymore as the blisters started bursting on their lips and in
their mouths. When Jimmy stood up, clutching at his chest, trying to
wheeze out a scream, staring at her with those angry, terrified eyes,
Carole-Anne decided to go lock herself in the bathroom. She didn't know
how long this would take, and it was better to be safe than sorry. After
all, who knew better than she just how angry Jimmy Locke could get?

She pushed past Mark, who'd slid to the floor and was trying to clutch
at her leg, and went out to the hallway. She pushed down the handle on
the front door, and after turning the key in the lock, pulled it out and
held it tight. Luke had dragged himself into the hallway behind her,
whimpering for her attention just like he had when he'd been a baby,
before he could even crawl properly. His eyes were pleading at her to
help him, to make the pain go away, and for a moment, beneath her haze
of nothingness, she thought she felt something. Love even or maybe just
pity, but whichever it was, in a second it was gone. He wasn't her baby
anymore; she didn't know who this thing was, and she just wanted him
gone the same as the others.

Turning her back on him, she went into the downstairs bathroom and
bolted the door quickly behind her and sat down heavily on the lid. Soon
it would be over; she just

45

had to wait. A little patience was all that was required. She jumped a
little as two walls away the kitchen table toppled over onto its side,
the plates smashing beneath it. That would be Jimmy. So there still was
life in the old dog yet. Never mind, there was nowhere for him to go,
however much he wanted to have his little tantrum. The door was locked
and she had a vague memory of cutting the telephone wire this afternoon.

Luke was scratching weakly at the door in front of her, and she kicked
out at him from the other side. Why couldn't they just damn shitting
well leave her in peace? That was all she wanted. Some peace and quiet.
Some time to herself. Why couldn't they give her that? Why did they have
to be so fucking selfish?

After a few frantic minutes, the scratching stopped. Hallelujah, praise
the Lord. Shutting her eyes, she leaned to one side and rested her head
on the wall. Maybe she should stay in here a little while longer, just
to be sure. It had been such a long day, and she was so tired. Yes,
maybe she should just sit here where it was nice and quiet; sit here
with her eyes shut and rest. That would be nice.

In less than a minute, she was asleep, snoring softly.

It was pitch dark when she awoke with a start, her face still sweating
from the nightmare. The first thing she noticed was the pain that seared
through her arm. What the hell was it? And where was she? Trying to
shake away the fuzz in her head, she reached up for the light switch.
The brightness made her head rage, but ignoring it, she stared at her
hand. There was a vague memory of bandaging it, but she had thought that
was part of her dream. Just what the hell had been going on with her today?

Suddenly she was terrified of opening the door. Why had she fallen
asleep in the downstairs bathroom? She racked her brain for something
that made sense. The last thing she remembered clearly was standing
outside that house, trying to suck the splinter out of her finger. Surely

46

that tiny piece of wood couldn't be causing all this pain? The rest of
the day was a series of fragmented images. She'd been cooking, that much
she did know. She'd been cooking something unusual. What was it? A
curry? Yes, that's what it was. She'd cooked a curry. A curry with a
special ingredient.

Leaning back against the wall, she moaned slightly as a memory engulfed
her. She was in O'Neale's, and Connor, no longer the spotty teenager who
used to moon over her in corridors, was trying to warn her about
something. Something she wanted, something that would ?do the
job,?whatever that meant. Weed killer. Why would she want to buy weed
killer?

She'd needed a special ingredient, that's why.

?Oh dear God,?she whispered softly. ?Oh my dear God, no.? Oblivious to
the pain, she raised her shaking hand and pulled back the bolt. What was
going to be out there? Was her baby lying out there? The tears were
already forming in her eyes when she tentatively opened the door, but
the blurriness of her vision didn't stop her seeing her son far too
clearly, lying in the hallway, one hand still reaching for her. His eyes
were wide open, full of shock and surprise, and oh God, far too much pain.

?Oh Luke, oh my baby boy, what have I done to you, what have I done??
Falling to her knees she took his head and cradled it carefully, keening
through her tears as she rocked backwards and forwards, smothering his
cold face with kisses, calling for him to wake up, wishing for him to
wake up, to wake up from this terrible nightmare that she'd infected
them with. How long she sat there with the light from the open bathroom
doorway shining down on their tragedy, she didn't know and didn't care,
her grief uncontrollable as she whispered to her youngest baby, trying
to comfort him in the dark.

Eventually, when her legs felt as cold and numb as his did, she lifted
her heavy head, and gazed along the corridor to the kitchen doorway.
Gently kissing Luke

47

goodnight, she laid him back on the carpet and hauled herself to her
feet. She could see Mark's arm on the floor before she'd crossed the
threshold. As she forced herself forward, her feet squeaked on the cheap
linoleum. She sunk into a chair, reached down and took her eldest son's
hand, holding it against her cheek, trying to savor its smell, to
remember its living scent. Beneath his gelled dark hair, his eyes were
squeezed shut, as if he couldn't bear the pain. His mouth and tongue,
like Luke's, were a mass of red sores and swollen blisters. ?Oh my
babies,?she said. ?Oh my poor, poor babies.?She was no longer crying,
the sheer desolation of what she felt inside too much for tears to keep
up with.

From behind the tumbled pine table she could see one of Jimmy's work
boots, lolling toward her. He was her husband. There had been some good
times, hadn't there? A long time ago, maybe, and maybe their love had
died along the way, but he had given her beautiful boys, her sons, who
sometimes drove her mad, but they had been all hers, her babies. They
didn't deserve this. None of them did.

Unable to bear the thought of Luke alone in the corridor, she got up and
carefully dragged him into the kitchen, whispering lovingly, laying him
beside his brother. She wanted her family around her. She wanted them
all to be together. One last time.

Taking a black marker from one of the drawers, she went to the large
upright fridge in the corner, pulling away the Post-it reminders from a
life gone by. When it was a clear canvas of white, she lifted her hand
to write. Those who needed to understand it would, as long as they got
to read it. And if they didn't? Well, she was just about past caring.
Her eyes filling at the thought of the sheer ridiculous waste of it all,
she wrote her simple message.

TEACHER

We got it Wrong

48

Her hand didn't seem to write so well anymore, but the words were
legible and that was all that mattered. She'd done her bit. Oh God, had
she done her bit.

She turned away from the fridge, picked her way over Jimmy to the stove
and lifted the pan of congealed leftover curry. Taking a spoon from the
draining board, she sat on the cool tile between Mark and Luke, resting
her back against the uncomfortable cupboards. Placing the pan beside
her, she pulled the boys' bodies closer until their heads were resting
on her lap. She stroked their hair for a while, a small sad smile
dancing across her lips, before picking up the pan; and with a cool,
clear head, she started to eat.

49

Jason's shoulders had started to ache at seven-thirty that morning
regular as clockwork, but he'd stayed silent as the two of them humped
the boxes into the back of the van, the frosty air burning his face. He
knew better than to complain. As Bob had pointed out on his first
morning at Brown's when Jason had mentioned blearily that getting up at
4:30 am to go the farmers' markets was no way for a man to start his
day, he was lucky to have the fucking job at all. He wouldn't have
employed him. The old man must be losing his marbles to want a parolee
on his payroll. But then, Bob was the size of an ox and had been working
for the fruit and veg shop pretty much since he was born. This was his
fucking chosen career.

Jason almost laughed at that thought until the truth of the grunting
giant's words hit home. He was lucky to have this job. And to be lucky
to have a job humping sacks of potatoes and endless crates of apples and
carrots, when you were in your thirties was a pretty shit position to be
in. That was the fucker of it he couldn't deny. So for the past six
weeks, he'd worked silently, doing what he was

50

told, and keeping his endless aches and pains to himself. He didn't want
Bob to tell old Mr. Brown that he wasn't up to the job, even if his
thin, lanky frame was telling him otherwise.

At least today it was Bob's turn to do the van run. Brown's did a good
trade in supplying restaurants, and also delivering to houses in the
small surrounding villages. The last crate stacked, Jason slammed the
van doors shut and slapped the side, letting Bob know it was all his
from here. He watched as it pulled away down the tight alley at the back
of the small warehouse behind the shop, and waited until Bob had turned
the corner before pulling a cigarette out of his overalls pocket and
lighting it, leaning gratefully against the wall. A precious hour to
himself before the shop staff arrived.

The smell of diesel hung in the cold, still air. Yeah, Brown had done
well out of the deliveries, and Jason had a good idea that that was why
the old bugger had given him the job when no one else was exactly eager
to employ him. The deliveries had, after all, been Jason's idea, back
when he was fourteen and the acquisition of a Raleigh Chopper with a
Sturmey Archer three-speed gear selector was his ultimate aim. He had to
have one. He had to have one so badly it hurt. His first sight of one of
those bikes had made him feel alive for the first time since all that
shit at Gina's place. Yeah, the Raleigh Chopper. The king of bikes. His
stomach would churn with envy whenever one sped by. And that was how he
ended up with the summer job at Brown's.

The old man had been taking a chance then, given that Jason's dad was
hardly a pillar of society--like father like son--but Jason hadn't let
him down. He'd worked all hours, sweeping and cleaning, moving sacks
that seemed twice his weight--that still seemed twice his weight--
carrying old ladies' baskets for them, until finally, he had enough
money, with the little bit his mum had thrown in. But during those few
months of what felt like

51

backbreaking labor, carrying the cut-out picture of his prize in the
back pocket of his jeans to keep him going, it was he who had mentioned
to the not yet old Mr. Brown that the business could be expanded by
delivering, and that no shopkeeper could feel secure because 'the age of
the supermarket' was approaching. Brown had laughed him away, but the
idea must have stuck because within a few months, he'd tentatively
bought his first van.

And the rest, as they say, is history. Mr. Brown expanded his business,
and Jason got his chopper with the three-speed gear selector that nearly
castrated him on several occasions.

He stubbed his cigarette out and went back into the small warehouse to
make himself a coffee. He still had plenty of work to do, get the shop
stocked up and the outside display ready, but caffeine was what he
needed first. Nicotine and caffeine. A man's two best friends.

By ten-thirty Bob wasn't yet back, and the shop was open with its usual
steady stream of regular customers. Different day, different regulars.
The people of Streatford were creatures of habit, invariably shopping on
the same day of each week. Jason was pottering about in the warehouse
without much to do, although he was sure that when Bob got back, he'd
find something. Bob always found some unnecessary job for Jason to do.
Any chance to exert his limited authority.

The phone on the wall rang, and he picked it up. It was Jan at the
register. ?Can you bring me out another box of Cox's Pippins? We're
having a bit of a run on them this morning.?

?No problem.?Picking up a small box along the left wall, he walked down
the small corridor and into the warmth of the shop, heading over to the
depleted straw tray of apples, and started refilling it, keeping the
fruit in its purple tissue-paper wrapping. The contrast of color always
made the apples look crisp and fresh, even if they had been out back for
longer than they should. This was

52

one of his ideas that had really gotten Bob's back up, especially as the
old man had gone along with it. He was going to have to learn to keep
his big mouth shut, or else Bob's general dislike would turn to hate,
and he was getting too old for making new enemies.

The box empty, he turned around to head back to the warehouse, and
almost knocked over the man standing behind him. ?I'm sorry, I didn't
see you there. Are you okay??

The man smiled back at him, and Jason's heart sunk. It was Rob. Fucking
Robert Black standing there in a casually expensive cashmere sweater,
head to toe oozing success, staring at him in his too big Brown's
overalls. Jesus. Just what he fucking needed. For a second, he thought
he might be able to slip away, and then Rob's head tilted quizzically.
?Jason??

Well, well. The bigshot recognized him after all these years. Should he
feel flattered? Trying to swallow his bitterness and embarrassment, he
smiled. ?Yeah, it's me. I heard you were back in town. How are you??

Rob shrugged. ?Okay. What about you??

Jason's eyes slipped away a little, focusing on old Judge Matthews
checking the tomatoes just outside the shop, before they came back to
Rob. ?Same as ever. No wiser, just older.?

Rob laughed. ?Yeah, that just about sums me up, too.?

Maybe, except you're a shitload richer with it, Jason thought. But then,
he could hardly blame Rob for the mess he'd made of his own life, no
matter how much he wanted to. There was a moment's awkward silence
before Jason's curiosity got the better of him. ?What made you come back
here, Rob? The rest of us dream of getting away. You could go anywhere
in the world if you've had enough of the big city. Why the fuck come
back to a shithole like Streatford??

This time it was Rob who looked away slightly. ?I don't really know. I
guess it's home, that's all.?

The old man had come in from outside and was reaching

53

for some bananas on a hook above where they were talking.

?Let me get them for you, Judge Matthews. How many would you like? It's
three normally, isn't it??The old man nodded, as Jason put them into a
paper bag.

Putting them into his green plastic basket, he looked up and smiled.
?Thank you, young man.?He looked at Rob for a second and then his smile
froze as he glanced backward and forward between the two men, who were
smiling back at him. He didn't move.

?Are you okay??Jason asked, gently touching the fragile man's arm. The
judge pulled away, muttering under his breath, and started to move to
the register, glancing nervously over his shoulder, barely waiting for
his change before scurrying out of the shop.

The strangeness of it broke the tension between the two men for a
second, as they looked at each other with raised eyebrows. ?He must
finally be going ga-ga.?

?Did you call him Judge Matthews? Is that really him? God, I didn't
recognize him. He's looking so old.?Rob was still staring at the space
the judge had vacated.

?Yeah, well time didn't stop here just because you left, Robster.?The
bitterness in Jason's voice, combined with his involuntary use of the
old childhood nickname, must have hit a nerve, because Rob looked as if
he'd just been slapped.

?You're right. I just didn't expect to see him like that. I guess I just
always thought he'd go on and on exactly as he was. He was one of those
kind of men. Like an invincible army brigadier or something. Stupid, huh??

Jason smiled, wondering where this conversation was going, and not
wanting to rekindle any long-dead friendships. Some things were better
left alone. ?Look, I'd better get back into the warehouse. I've got tons
of stuff to do.??

?Sure, of course.?Rob was rummaging in his back pocket and pulled out a
small notebook and tiny pen. He grinned sheepishly. ?Tools of the trade.
I take them with

54

me everywhere in case any lightning bolts of inspiration strike. That's
the theory anyway.?He scribbled a number down and tore out the sheet.
?I'm at my mum's old house. That's the number. Maybe we could go for a
beer or something one day??

Rob still had the notebook open, and Jason found himself reciting his
cell number. Oh Lord, Robster wants to exorcise his demons. He folded up
the piece of paper and slipped it in his overalls. ?Yeah, maybe.?

Nodding farewell, he went back to his sanctuary of the warehouse and lit
a cigarette before pulling out the scrap of paper and staring at it as
he smoked. There was no way he was ever going to call that number, and
he had a feeling it was the same for Rob. The time to talk was far too
long ago, and now they were too grown up to know where to start. The
past was done. It was best left alone. His face in a frown, he balled up
the paper and tossed it into the bin.

55

When he'd been in London, Rob considered it a good day's work if he'd
gotten a couple of thousand words down by about two. Then he'd normally
call it a day and start planning his evening's entertainment. Although
he was giving up the partying, he'd expected his writing output to have
stayed at about the same level now that he was in Streatford. So he was
somewhat surprised to see that it was four o'clock when the ringing
phone dragged him out of the world in his laptop and that he'd done just
over four thousand words. He had a sneaking suspicion that they were
damn good words, too.

His legs felt stiff when he got up, a testament to the hours he'd spent
sitting at the kitchen table, and his neck was in agony, but he felt
good about himself despite it all. He was working. Working on something
good.

?Hello??

?Rob? It's Michael. How are you getting on??

He smiled to hear the familiar voice. ?Great. Better than great. I'm
working on something new and although it's early days, I think you're
going to like it. I've been

56

writing since eight this morning, and I've only just stopped. I think
this might be my best work since The Pyramid Man, I really do.?

?Good, I'm glad to hear it.?Michael didn't need to mention that the
sales figures for his latest book hadn't been as high as expected. Rob
was painfully aware of that fact. Still, it was hardly losing money,
even if it had just missed the top ten spot in the bestseller lists.
Maybe the paperback would pull it back.

?So how's country life? Bumped into any old flames back there? I hear
Janine is missing you.?Rob didn't miss the hint of sarcasm in his
agent's voice, and he smiled wryly. He'd seen the papers. Janine had
moved on pretty instantaneously to some up-and-coming pop star.

?No, no old flames, thank you very much. I think I've earned a break
from women. Seriously though, I'm just keeping pretty much to myself.?He
didn't mention bumping into Jason yesterday. After all, Jason didn't
really qualify as an old flame. And anyway, weird though it was, he
hadn't expected to bump into him at all, as if he belonged to a
Streatford stuck in another time and shouldn't be in the here and now.
On top of that, it had looked as if Jason hadn't wanted to be bumped
into. Not by him at any rate.

?You should come down and visit for a few days. It'd be great to see
you. Just give me a couple of weeks to sort the place out properly.?

?Yeah, I'd like that. Anyway, I'd better go. Deals to do and all that jazz.?

?Okay, just as long as they're deals for me. I'll call you in a few days.?

After saying good-bye and hanging up, Rob started to make himself a ham
sandwich. Yes, it would be nice to see Michael, but not just yet. That's
why he'd come out with the small white lie about getting the house
ready. The house was fine. He was just enjoying having it to himself for
a little while. He wasn't ready to share his peace and quiet yet. Not
even with Michael, who was probably the

57

best friend he'd had since ... well, since Jason. And after their
awkward meeting yesterday, it was hard to believe that they'd once been
best buddies, their friendship bravely crossing the gulf of the '70s
class divide. Maybe that's why it was doomed not to last. Maybe that's
why Jason had done that shit in class about Rob's dad; maybe he'd been
glad that Rob's world wasn't so perfect after all.

As an adult he could see it clearly, but at the time he hadn't forgiven
Jason, even if he'd said he did. The cracks in their friendship were
pretty huge by the end of that summer, even before all the weird crap
that happened with Gina. Yeah, their friendship was fatally damaged when
it was only the good stuff going on. They just hadn't realized it yet.
But that was all just part of growing up. You make friends. You break
friends.

He turned the radio on for company while he ate his sandwich, and
instantly wished he hadn't. It was the local station and the news had
been dominated by the story of the woman from Gallows Hill who'd
murdered her family and then herself a couple of days ago. The reporter
was saying that it might have been brought on by guilt over an
extra-marital affair.

Turning it off, he went into the lounge to light the fire. It seemed
like there was nowhere in the world safe from these awful tragedies
anymore, and he didn't really want to hear about them if he didn't have
to. He'd set the fire first thing that morning and was glad of it now,
only having to light the scrunched up newspaper at the base to start it
blazing. The work he'd done today was catching up with him. His head was
drained and tired. He thought about sitting in the armchair and having a
snooze for half an hour or so to revitalize him. Then the thump of a
paper hit the carpet in the hall, and he went to see what it was.

Of course, he thought as he picked up the thick tabloid-sized newspaper.
The Citizen's Companion. How could he have forgotten? Delivered every
Thursday afternoon. Always had been and always would be, he suspected.
Still, it

58

was a lot thicker now than he remembered it. No doubt full of motor or
property supplements, the scourge of the modern newspaper world. He took
it back into the warming lounge and sat in his armchair, laughing a
little, because he suddenly felt like an old man. All he needed to
complete the picture were some tatty slippers and a pipe. If only Janine
could see him now.

The main part of the front page was taken up with a photo of a woman
with a fat, sad face and greasy hair. He didn't recognize her, and even
when he'd read and reread the name written in bold underneath, he still
didn't recognize her. Despite the fire, a chill had settled on him, a
chill that started deep inside him and worked its way out, and it took a
few seconds before he could bring himself to accept the words that his
eyes were reading. He looked at the picture again. Could that really be
Carole Anne? Could it? Not their Carole-Anne. Surely not. The picture
swam a little before him. But there was something in those eyes that was
familiar, and maybe the shape of the mouth. He looked at the name again.
Carole-Anne Locke. So she'd really gone and married that arsehole Jimmy.
Why the hell had she done that?

He took a cigarette from the packet on the mantelpiece, lit it with
shaky hands and inhaled deeply before starting to read the article.
?Jesus, Carrie,?he muttered to himself. ?What the hell have you done??

He read the words without really accepting what they were telling him.
It couldn't be true. It couldn't. She would never have done anything
like this. She didn't even swat flies, for Christ's sake.

Apparently, she killed her husband and two sons by poisoning their
dinner with a highly toxic weed killer, before poisoning herself. She
left a cryptic note that led police to believe that she may have been
having an affair with one of the teachers at her boys' school. However,
all staff vehemently denied the allegation, and there was now suspicion
that Mrs. Locke was suffering from some kind of

59

delusional fantasy that got out of control. Sources reveal that the
message, which was believed to have been written on the family fridge,
read, ?TEACHER. WE GOT IT WRONG.?

As he stared at those words, Rob felt as if his sandwich was about to
come up. He read it over and over again, feeling twelve once more,
feeling helpless in the presence of the words. Carole-Anne had left the
message for them, she had to have. No one else knew about Teacher. No
one. But Jesus, what had driven her to this? How could something from so
long ago have made her do this?

The butt of his cigarette burned his fingers for a second or two before
he realized and threw it into the fire, shaking away the pain. What the
hell was going on here? He'd dreamed of Teacher. That was what made him
think of coming home, and now this. Could it just be a coincidence? God,
he needed to talk to someone. But who?

Before the answer had consciously come to him, he'd gone to the kitchen
and picked up his notebook. There was only one person who would get
this, and he needed to talk to him whether he liked it or not. He dialed
the number, and it rang twice before someone answered.

?Hallo??

?Jason? It's Rob. Have you seen the paper??

Jason sighed wearily at the other end. ?What? About Carrie??His voice
was slightly slurred, and Rob got the distinct feeling that wherever
Jason was, he was drinking.

?Yes, about Carole-Anne. Did you see the message she left? She was
talking about Teacher.?

?I'm not really interested, Robster. It's all a long time ago. I haven't
really seen her since, well, since school. Since you and Gina left. She
may as well be a stranger now. Just like she is to you. I didn't notice
you going to any great lengths to keep in touch over the years.?

Rob let the slurred knock go unnoticed. ?Yeah, well I guess I just
thought you two would end up together.?

Jason laughed, although there was no humor in it.

60

?Well, I'm fucking glad we didn't! Didn't you see that photo? She's
looked like that for years. It was all downhill for her as soon as she
started shagging that wanker Jimmy Locke. So, no. We were never going to
get together.?He paused for a second before he added softly, ?Anyway, we
were both in love with Gina, weren't we? Carrie never really got a look in.?

Rob wondered whether it was as hard for Jason to mention Gina's name as
it was for him to hear it. He let out a sigh of his own. ?Look, you know
when you asked me yesterday why I'd come back to town? Well, there was
more to it than just coming home.?He waited for a second, but Jason said
nothing. ?I'd been dreaming of Teacher. Bad dreams. I didn't think
anything of it, but now with this ...? His voice trailed off. ?Maybe we
should get together and talk about it.?

Jason's laugh was a bark. ?Why? So you can write another book about the
shit that happens to people around you? Like you did with The Pyramid
Man? I don't think so, mate.?So he'd read that book, even if he hadn't
gotten the point of it. Maybe he had. Maybe he just had his own guilt on
that score. There was a tired exhale on the other end of the line.
?Look, I'll see you at the funeral. When they issue a date that is. And
that's if I go. I'm not sure I will yet, but if I do, then we can talk
there. Will that do you??

Rob muttered a yes.

?Good. 'Cos that's all you're going to get.?The phone clicked off. Still
cradling the receiver to his cheek, Rob chewed the inside of his mouth.
Why the hell did Jason sound so scared? And if he thought he could fool
Rob with all that crap about not giving a shit, then he was wrong. Rob
knew him too well, even after all these years. He'd been in love with
Carrie in his schoolboy way long before Gina came along. And Gina, well
it was never quite real love, was it? She was too ethereal, too strange,
too beautiful to really love. And too goddamn weird.

61

It seemed like the floodgates of his memory were about to open, and he
locked them shut. Not today. He didn't want to remember all of that
today. Yes, Jason would be at the funeral. He wouldn't be able to stop
himself from saying good-bye. Couldn't if he wanted to.

He went back into the sitting room, and threw the newspaper onto the
fire. Watching it burn, he thought for a moment, that he was going to cry.

62

The new shears he'd bought a few days ago from the young O'Neale boy
sliced easily through the overgrowing greenery at the bottom of his
rambling garden. It was the joints in Judge Matthews's hands that were
struggling, the pain causing him to occasionally grunt quietly to
himself as he worked, a constant reminder that the best of his days were
over, and now he was left playing the waiting game with God. Not that he
believed much in all that heaven and hell preaching; although sometimes,
as the nights silently ticked sleeplessly by, he wished he did. There
seemed to be little comfort in old age.

A satisfyingly large piece of blackberry bush fell by his feet, and
admiring his handiwork, he decided that within another forty minutes or
so he'd be able to see the river from his conservatory as he liked to,
all through the approaching winter. He rolled his creaking shoulders,
feeling the twinges there. It didn't seem so long ago that he'd have had
this job done in twenty minutes, and something in that thought made his
heart ache, but only for a moment. He wasn't a man who liked to dwell
too much on

63

things that he couldn't do anything about. It was hard to stay down with
fresh air in his lungs and the sweet mingling smells of the countryside
dancing in his nostrils. On the other side of the water, a herd of cows
was grazing in the fields, their quiet sounds keeping him company, and
there was something about it that made old age seem the most natural
thing in the world, which, he guessed on reflection, it was. The last of
the summer midges darted about his head, and he blew them away.

There were plenty of people who would think him a fool for being out
here working at his age, for not hiring someone, but he didn't care. As
long as he could do for himself, he'd be damned if he'd let anyone look
after him. And anyway, that young doctor down at the surgery had told
him the best thing for his rheumatism was to try to keep himself active.
Some gentle walking. Keep himself as flexible as possible. He snorted
out loud as he snipped away at the brambles. Not that that young tyke
could know anything about the soul-destroying pain of rheumatoid
arthritis. But then, Ernest Matthews consoled himself, should the young
GP reach his ripe old age, then more than likely he'll have first-hand
experience.

He smiled, peering over the section of trimmed bushes at the river
beyond. The young always looked at the old as if they were from a
different species. Aliens; tolerated, but not really understood. They
never seemed to realize that the walking stick and reading glasses were
really only a blink of an eye away. Still smiling, he shook his head.
Still, that was the way it always had been, and always would be. It was
how it should be. If you couldn't believe in eternity when you were
young, then what was the point of it all? What would be the point of
your hopes, your dreams? They would all grow up in time, and sooner than
they expected. Just look at those two boys he saw in Brown's this
morning ... He pushed that thought away, working vigorously with his shears.

Seeing those two had unsettled him, brought him out

64

into the garden to work away his unease, although why they should have
bothered him he didn't know. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen Jason
Milburn plenty since the Grace case, mainly in the dock just like his
father before him. It must have been seeing him with the writer that had
brought back the old memories. Seeing the two of them all grown up, men
now, no more carefree days racing around town on bikes for them. It was
like seeing them, but not them. The children he'd known briefly all
those years ago, the ones he had talked to, in his own way tried to
reassure, were long gone. Strangers with only shadows left behind. In
the case of poor Carole-Anne Bradley, she was gone forever.

His work was almost done, and something in his newly clear view
distracted him from his immediate thoughts and took them down a new
road. Looking to his left, he heard himself take a sharp breath. Surely
that couldn't be right. He'd have noticed it before. Why hadn't he
noticed it before? He'd lived here thirty years and more; he knew every
inch of the view across the river. So why was he only seeing it now?
Putting the unwanted shears down on the lawn, he stretched his back and
stared, puzzled.

The top of the house on Toombes Meadow was clearly visible, even the
chimney stack, unused for so many winters now. He blinked a few times,
to clear his mind as well as his vision, but every time he opened them,
it was still there, clear as day. ?Well, I'll be,?he whispered, not sure
what to make of it. Maybe it had always been there and he just hadn't
noticed it. That had to be the case; there was no other alternative.
Maybe it was seeing those boys today that made him spot it. After all,
it wasn't exactly right in front of him or anything. It was possible he
could have missed it for all these years, if he wasn't looking for it.
Or maybe he was just a useless old man with rheumy eyes and couldn't
trust his sight anymore. He wasn't convincing himself very well.

He was sure he never used to be able to see the house

65

from here. He'd have remembered a thing like that, forgetful though he
may be these days. As he stood there, his brain worked overtime to find
a logical reason for this new information, and when it came up with one,
he grabbed it and clung on.

Someone must have cut a few trees down over there. Or maybe they had
come down in those gales a few weeks ago. Yes, that must have been it.
That was why he could see the house now. Feeling a rush of relief,
liking his explanation, he let the world settle back to normal around
him. His mind was still his own; he wasn't joining the drooling brigade
just yet.

Calmer now, he squinted at the house for a few moments longer, cursing
whoever had cleared the view. He'd never understood why old man Cowley
had wanted to build on that land in the first place. He'd even asked
him, to which Cowley, canny businessman that he was, had laughed and
given him that big, open smile of his, and told him, ?Because it's
cheap, Ernie, because it's cheap.? He was a good man, Cowley, and God
knew he himself had never been prone to superstition, it wasn't a good
quality in a judge, but that meadow had been unused common land for so
many centuries, there was almost something sacred about it. Still,
Cowley was right. He'd gotten himself a big, private house for his
family for half the money he'd have paid anywhere else. Not that Cowley
couldn't afford it, but he always was a man who liked a bargain. At
least he'd never let his wealth give him airs and graces, like that
son-in-law of his, who'd turned out to be not quite so well off as he
liked people to believe. People were strange; his life on the bench had
taught him that, if nothing else. There was no accounting for folk, as
the old saying went.

Feeling his melancholy settling back in, he bent down?slowly to pick up
his shears and put them in the shed, not wanting to dwell on events so
long past. He'd liked Camilla. She'd been a lovely girl, and it had hurt
his heart

66

when she came up in court before him, but there was no doubt about it:
She'd killed Philip Grace--no matter what she said--and he'd had to
judge her for it.

Locking the shed, he sighed. Still, that place out by Ashburtle probably
hadn't treated her too badly over the years. They'd be giving her the
care she needed, and mainstream prison hadn't been the place for a
fragile woman like her. By the time the trial was over, and he'd made it
as swift as possible, all Camilla would do was giggle into her hands and
rock backward and forward. Backward and forward for hours and hours.
Lost in her own world. She was probably still lost there now. It had
been the little girl that he'd most felt sorry for. Her guilty eyes, as
if the whole sorry tragic episode were her fault, trying to take the
blame herself. Kids were strange creatures. As strange as the adults
they would one day become, that much was for sure.

Eager to leave his thoughts in the garden, he leaned on the open patio
door handle to pull off his muddy shoes before going back into the
house. His gloved hand stopped as he grabbed the leather of his heel.
What was going on out here tonight? Leaning down closer to the pale
paving stones to get a better look, he scanned along the wall to see
where the little devils were coming from. His eyes came to rest at the
fence that separated his house from Daisy's. There was a tiny stream of
black ants marching from her side of the brown wood to his, running all
the way to his patio door, where they seemed to be just milling about,
as if waiting for further instruction. He shook his head, not sure
whether to trust his vision for the second time this evening. Ants this
late in the summer?

Keeping his shoes on, he went inside and locked the sliding door firmly
behind him, peering at the growing multitude through the glass. Ants.
Well, it must just be the evening for unusual things, and it wasn't as
if the summer were quite over yet. Maybe this was their last supper
before the hard frosts came.

67

He pulled his shoes off on the mat, and replaced them with his loafers,
ignoring the scream in his back as he straightened up. Maybe he'd
overdone the recommended gentle exercise slightly, but at least the pain
let him know that he was still very much with the living. Checking the
carpet, he saw with relief that none of his six-legged friends had made
it in with him, but he liked to open the door in the mornings and let
some air in, so something was going to have to be done about his new
garden inhabitants. He wouldn't normally bother, but there just seemed
to be so damn many of them.

The only thing for it was to pop next door and see where they were
coming from. Daisy would want to know if she's gotten a bit of an
infestation anyway. A damn fine woman, Daisy Roper. She'd run the
haberdashery in Market Square for years back when she'd been a real
person, just like he'd been; and just like he, she was damned if she was
joining the retirement home brigade, mid-eighties or not. That
haberdashery had been a feature of the town for two decades, back in the
days when haberdashery shops were a lady's must, before a new generation
came and took over, quietly pushing the old ways out, usurping from the
inside.

Unfortunately, the only thing that knocking at Daisy's door revealed was
that she wasn't at home, and back in his own kitchen Ernest Matthews
boiled a full kettle of water, starting to feel irritated at this
interruption to his evening. He just wanted to sit in front of his fire,
(gas these days, although still coal effect; the body wasn't up to the
rigors of maintaining a real fire anymore), and do the crossword while
listening to the radio 4 play on the wireless.

Trying to shake off his internal grumbles, he tugged the lead away from
the steaming kettle and headed toward the patio. He'd treat himself to a
nice whisky when he'd finished. That would ease his aches and pains,
physical and otherwise. Unlocking the door, he slid it open, and

68

noticed with amazement that the mass of black insects was making its way
onto the wooden lintel of the doorframe. They were persistent little
buggers, he had to give them that. Tipping his wrist, he started to
pour, and wondered momentarily, how much pain they'd feel.

69

Kelly was glad she didn't have her high heels on today as she almost
jogged out of the school gates before anyone could grab her. A free
period at the end of the day was a rarity and with her year ten English
group away on a trip, she intended to make the most of the extra hour.
Once a safe hundred yards away, she slowed her trot down to a brisk
walk, pushing her blond hair away from her face so she could see where
she was going, her breath quick in her chest.

Time to start going back to those aerobics classes before your body
completely goes to pot on you, she chastised herself. Slim didn't always
mean fit, and the busyness of home and work that made her forget to eat
was the same one that left her too tired to exercise. It was a lose-lose
situation. Next week, I'll sign up again, she thought with a wry
internal smile. And pigs might fly. Do white lies count when you only
tell them to yourself?

Her brown eyes, unusual for a natural blonde, were sparkling as she
strode down the long road that separated Dulverton from Streatford. It
was about four miles

70

between the two villages and the school was somewhere about halfway, but
she figured if she kept up her pace she'd make it in time to get to the
nursery, where her father would be waiting. She got to pick up Tabitha
so rarely these days that every opportunity was precious. It sometimes
seemed it was only yesterday when she was a tiny wrinkled bundle
smelling of talcum powder and baby formula; but her baby days were over
and she was four and growing up fast.

Thinking of her daughter, Kelly's delicate cheekbones were highlighted
with a smile. Yes, Tabby was great, but with the way her mother's love
life was going--not going would be closer to the truth--there weren't
going to be any baby brothers or sisters coming along to keep her
company. At thirty-five, Kelly could feel her body clock ticking away,
like some internal countdown to barrenness, and there was no hint of Mr.
Right grinning at her from the horizon.

Passing under the bridge, what she considered her halfway mark on her
daily walk to school, she checked her watch. Good, she was in plenty of
time to meet Tabby and the only man in her life she'd ever been able to
rely on, her father. Under his and her mother's gentle insistence, she'd
tried dating most of the single men in town, none of whom really caught
her eye apart from the occasional short-lived exception, and most of
those relationships had been driven by the dawning realization that she
was being considered by the chattering masses of Streatford to be an
ideal candidate for the position of village spinster. Well, she managed
to avoid that title quite dramatically when Tabitha came along. Village
spinsters did not generally have children out of wedlock. That had
caused a little stir amongst her parents' generation, of which there
were plenty. Did you hear about Kelly Hollingsworth? At her age you'd
think she'd know better, her a policeman's daughter, too. They say the
father's a married man. Her poor mother must be devastated.

71

It had been a long few months, but she'd kept her head held high and
rode the wave until some juicier gossip had come along, which of course
always happens. And yes, they'd been right. The father was a married
man, and a lying shit to boot even if he had given her a beautiful
daughter. At least once she'd told him in no uncertain terms that she
wasn't going to have an abortion, no matter how much he pleaded with
her, he'd had the decency to pack up his house and his wife and move out
of town. Far out of town. Every cloud had a silver lining if you looked
hard enough.

She'd reached the top of Dulverton Road and started following the long
stretch of pretty Edwardian terraces down toward the high street, her
spirits high. It wasn't as if she needed a man, anyway. Her life was
pretty good, all things considered. She had her wonderful child, a job
she loved, and she had her father, who was finally starting to get over
her mother's death two years ago. They were both getting over it,
comforted by Tabitha and her startling resemblance to the woman who had
been the heart of their lives for so long, before having to leave them
to face the world on their own. No, they were doing pretty well. Her mum
would be proud of them, and looking after Tabby with her was good for
Dad, keeping him busy. And it was great for Kelly. She didn't know what
she'd do without him.

Turning down a side street before the crossroads at the bottom, she
joined a gaggle of mothers heading toward the small primary school to
pick up their kids. Tabby only went for the afternoons, but was loving
it already. She was a clever little girl and had already decided she was
going to be a ?pleaseman? like Granddad when she grew up. Kelly had a
sneaking suspicion that the little girl knew how to pronounce the word
perfectly well, but kept up her baby word to make an old man happy. It
never failed to make retired Detective Sergeant Jack Hollingsworth laugh
when he heard her say it, and anything that did

72

that was fine with his ladies, as they called themselves. Especially
over the past couple of weeks, since that terrible rape at Syracousse.

Neither of them had been laughing much since then. Kelly had taught
those kids, and unruly as they were she couldn't imagine what could have
made them do something like that, especially not to Sharnice. Those
three had been close. They had been friends. It was such a terrible,
terrible business, and she only wished she could understand it.

Spotting her father's gray hair above the crowd of young mothers, she
waved to get his attention. His face creased into a smile when he saw
her and looking at him leaning on his walking stick, she felt a soft
stabbing pain inside. When did you get so old, Dad? When did it happen,
and why didn't I notice? Was I too busy growing up myself?

Pushing through the throng, she made her way, breathless, to his side.
?Hello, Pops.?She squeezed his arm and planted a kiss on his cheek,
before she heard the familiar squeal.

?Mummy!?The small girl threw herself at them, and Kelly bent over to hug
her, kissing the top of the dark head.

?I thought I'd come down and surprise you. I finished work early.
Pleased to see me??

Tabby squeezed the lower half of her mother's body in response as the
three generations of Hollingsworths made their way out of the crush and
headed home to Horsefair Green. ?Look what I made! Look what I made!?
Skipping slightly ahead of the two adults, she turned around and held up
a piece of green sugar paper, daubed with colorful paint, depicting a
large house and garden full of trees and plants. Kelly exchanged a smile
with her father. Children's imaginations were really something else. If
that's what Tabby thought their little terraced cottage was like, then
they had it made.

She ruffled the child's wild dark curls, a legacy from her grandmother,
that had escaped from her ribboned ponytail. ?Is that our house, honey??

73

Tabitha looked at her mother as if she were mad, a small furrow of
impatience forming in her soft, smooth brow. ?'Course not!?She glanced
at the painting again as if to make sure, before smiling. ?It's the
house I'm gonna live in. It's my house. I dreamed it.?

With the amused love only a mother could feel, Kelly laughed. ?Well, if
you want a house like that, young lady, my only advice to you is don't
become a teacher.?

?Or a policeman,?added Jack, sharing the fun. ?But it's good to have
someone with ambition in the family. You'll be able to keep us in our
old age.?

Tabby was still holding the picture out in front of her, looking at it
almost wistfully while she walked. ?My house.?

Taking it from her, Kelly held it carefully as she took her daughter's
hand to cross the road. ?Tell you what. We'll put it on the wall when we
get home, and then when you get bigger and you don't want to do your
homework, you can look at it to remind you what you want in life. Deal??

Tabby giggled and led the way home.

The little girl was happily ensconced in front of CBBC, surrounded by
toys, when Kelly came down the narrow staircase changed into her jeans
and sweater. Time for half an hour relaxing with a cup of tea before the
usual evening round of dinner, baths and then when Tabby was asleep,
marking. Well, at least she'd gained an extra hour today, although that
would fly by quickly enough. She saw with a smile that her father had
already pinned up the picture in the kitchen by the door and was pouring
out the tea. ?Thanks, Dad,? she said, gratefully taking the mug and
sitting at the tiny table. ?So what did you get up to today? No wild
house parties I hope.?

Jack Hollingsworth didn't smile, but pulled out the chair opposite her
and sat down carefully, wary of the pain that tended to flare in his
right hip. ?I went up to the station. Thought I might talk to someone
about those boys.?

74

About to take a sip of her drink, Kelly paused, and put the mug down,
untouched. She looked intently at the old man. ?Darren and Lee??Her
tiredness was forgotten now.

Her father nodded. ?I've still got some clout up there. Some of those
high-flyers trained under me.?He rubbed his hands over his eyes and sighed.

Kelly's eyes were alert. ?Did they tell you anything? Did you get to
speak to them? Was it drugs that made them do it??The anxiety in her
voice was plain as she leaned forward.

She cared about all the students in her school, but these three had been
in her tutor group, and she hated that she hadn't noticed that anything
was wrong outside of their normal erratic behavior. She should have
sensed there was a problem. That was her job. Three young lives were
ruined, and maybe if she'd been paying attention, she could have done
something to prevent it. Ever since the awful news had broken, she'd
been eating herself up with guilt.

Her father let out a long sigh. ?No, I didn't speak to them. They're on
suicide watch at the moment. DS Keery says they'll be transferring them
up to the young offenders unit soon, and then you can probably get a
visit, if they want to see you. I don't think they're in a good way.?

Kelly's heart ached. ?So what happened??

Her father shrugged, meeting her gaze with a frank stare, reminding her
that although his body was letting him down, he was still a policeman
through and through. ?It's hard to say. When they turned themselves in,
they were taken separately for interview. They both came out with the
same story, which isn't much of a surprise since they'd been hiding out
in the allotments overnight. Plenty of time to come up with something.?
He grimaced as he flexed his leg. ?The thing was, they didn't. Not
really, although their story is pretty strange.?

He paused to sip his tea, thoughtfully, and Kelly had to restrain
herself from screaming at him to hurry up. But

75

she knew her father. His speech was always ponderous when his brain was
working fast.

?Keery says that they both admitted to stealing a bottle of something
from the liquor store on the high street, which has been confirmed by
the manager, and then meeting up with Sharnice and going down by the
river. Apparently, Sharnice didn't want to stay there and so they went
up to the Grace house, Syracousse. They'd never been up there before,
and they claim that the front door was open. One of the boys knew a
little bit about the history of the place because his dad works cleaning
the offices at Greenslade's, the solicitors that manage the property.?

He paused to sip his tea. ?Anyway, they went inside, switched a light on
in the front room and started drinking. Sharnice decided that maybe they
should burn the house down for bonfire night. She was really adamant,
and the boys went along. It was at about this time that the lights went
out, and the boys can't explain what happened next.?

Kelly was' puzzled. ?They can't explain it? Are they claiming that
they're innocent??

Jack shook his head. ?No. They were both very calm. They admitted they
did it, but neither of them could explain why. They said something made
them do it. Made them want to do it. Just before the lights went out.
Something they couldn't control. When it was over, they carried her out
onto the front door step and then went to call an ambulance. They said
they hadn't wanted to move her at all because she was so badly hurt, but
at the same time they didn't want to leave her in the house.?

Kelly didn't know what to make of it. Why had they been so worried about
her after they'd hurt her so badly that she was still in intensive care?
After what they'd done with that bottle when they'd finished raping her,
stamping on her abdomen, smashing it inside her. She shivered at the
thought of the girl's pain and terror. ?That is strange.?

Jack Hollingsworth shook his head. ?That isn't the

76

strange part. You see, there is no electricity at Syracousse. Keery was
adamant about that. It was cut off years ago. There's no way they could
have turned on a light. What's even stranger is that there is no way
they could have gotten into the house by the front door either. It takes
three keys to open, and they're all housed at Greenslade's.?

Kelly frowned slightly. ?Well, maybe the last time someone went to look
it over they forgot to lock up behind them.?

Her father shook his head. ?No. No one's been up there in ages anyway,
and if that were the case, then why was the door fully locked and
untampered with when the ambulance found Sharnice? It just doesn't make
sense. Also, there were fresh cigarette butts on the floor in the old
living room to corroborate their story?

Kelly sighed, and leaned back in her creaking chair. ?They must have
been taking something. Maybe they were high. Maybe Lee got his dad to
steal the keys or something.?

Jack raised an eyebrow. ?You're a policeman's daughter all right. That's
the theory Keery's working on, although the father is adamant he didn't
have anything to do with it. But the drug thing is a definite no.?

?Why? Did they test them??

Jack looked weary as he spoke. ?Well, it turned out that the reason they
were both so calm was that they'd downed a load of any pills they could
get their hands on before going into the station. That's why they were
so eager to make their statements quickly. They both collapsed within a
few minutes of each other and had to be rushed to the hospital for
stomach pumps. They were tested for illegal substances then, and there
was no trace.?

He stood up to pour himself another cup of tea from the pot. ?So I can't
see why they would have any reason to lie about anything, if they were
planning to kill themselves. It wouldn't fit with the stereotype.?

Kelly sat thoughtfully for a few moments, not knowing

77

what to say. It was a terrible, terrible thing to happen, and she still
felt none the wiser, but she was grateful to her father for getting the
information.

?Thanks for finding out for me. I know you're retired and probably had
enough of all this kind of stuff years ago. I'm really grateful that you
put yourself out.? She stood and rinsed her mug out in the sink, wanting
to go and spend some time playing with Tabby. That always helped to
raise her spirits.

Jack smiled at her. ?I knew it meant a lot to you. I'll just have to
have my wild party tomorrow.?

He watched his little girl disappear into the lounge and then turned to
gaze out the small kitchen window, looking at nothing in particular,
sipping his cooling tea. He hadn't been entirely honest with Kelly. If
it had been only she who had been so unsettled about the rape, then he
would have probably told her to let the police get on with their jobs in
peace, and she would have to wait until it came to trial to get her
information, like everyone else. He was retired. He'd done his time. It
was nothing to do with him anymore.

But it wasn't only she who needed to know what had gone on. The irony
was that he was probably more disturbed than she was by the recent
events. Ridiculous as it sounded, he'd kind of forgotten that the house
was there, as if the years that had passed had erased it, made it
invisible to the mind. But of course it hadn't gone anywhere, the bricks
and mortar standing the test of time far better than his flesh and blood
had done, and when he'd seen the name there in the newspaper, heard it
whispered in the streets, it was like cold water hitting his face, the
spell broken. In his head, he could hear the words as easily as if
they'd been spoken yesterday by that cool, composed voice.

?You'd better come quickly. There's been a terrible accident. I don't
understand how it happened. One minute in my hand. The next it was gone.?

78

He hadn't understood what Camilla Grace nee Cowley had been talking
about until he'd gotten there. And then, with the sound of that little
girl's awful screams coming from the kitchen, as her mother calmly
opened the front door and invited him in, it had all become crystal clear.

But even that memory probably wouldn't have been enough to make him go
up to the station today. If anything, it would have kept him away. It
was something Kelly had said yesterday that made him get his old suit on
and shake off the cobwebs in his brain. She'd been reading the weekly
rag and pointed out in passing that the woman up at Gallows Hill who
killed her family and herself had been one of Gina Grace's circle of
friends at school. Just like that writer who'd come back to town last week.

Something was disturbing his sleep, and it was nothing he could put his
finger on, ghosts of the past whispering in his head. All he knew was
that Streatford didn't have crimes like this, not one on top of the
other. People in this town did not go around hurting each other and
themselves. At best, murder happened once in every couple of
generations; everyone knew each other too well here. Murder and suicide
tended to happen in communities of strangers.

He chewed his bottom lip. He may not understand it, but something was
happening in Streatford. Something bad, and it started with that rape.

That rape broke the spell.

The thought made no sense to him, but it felt right. A flash of pain
surged up his lower spine from his hip, making him catch his breath. He
waited for it to pass before attempting to move. Maybe something is
happening here, he thought as he trod carefully toward the door. And
maybe it isn't. Maybe it's just your old man's imagination. But one
thing's for sure: you're too damn old to do anything about it, so just
let it go. It's not your business. Not anymore.

For the first time in the years of his retirement, that thought brought
him some comfort as he settled into the armchair to watch the news.

79

In the four days since he'd read about Carole-Anne in the paper, Rob's
work had slowed down. The book that he'd thought was so fantastic now
just looked like words on a page, thin and lifeless. His characters
seemed two-dimensional as they wallowed aimlessly in his stagnant plot.
Staring at the screen, he decided enough was enough. Without bothering
to save his new pages, he switched the laptop off and refilled his mug
from the carafe of his new coffee machine sitting on the breakfast bar.
No milk this time, black moods called for black coffee. He smiled to
himself. Shit, he was even thinking in clichés.

Rolling his head, he felt the tense muscles stretching in his neck, and
sighed. There was nothing wrong with the book. It was a good piece of
work. The problem was with him. Since his conversation with Jason, he
hadn't been able to concentrate, Carrie's final message playing over?and
over in the back of his mind. Teacher. We got it wrong. Jason might have
been able to drink it away, but he couldn't. Not now he knew about that
rape case as well.

80

That one local paper had a lot to answer for. With his hermit lifestyle
these days, there was a good chance he never would have found out about
that if Carrie hadn't been blazed across the front page in all her
destroyed glory. Local papers had never been his idea of reading; he'd
probably just have used it for starting the fire, and he wasn't a TV
man. He'd learned everything he needed to know about the world from The
Sunday Times, and local rapes, no matter how horrific, weren't going to
make a mention there, even if Carrie had got herself an obituary.

He wondered briefly whether Gina had seen it, wherever she was these
days. Did she sit there in a daze and think of her childhood friend, or
did she blithely move on, cold and uncaring, to the financial section?
Probably the latter. Gina, for all her terrible and wonderful
strangeness, had always been untouchable. Well, that was how it had
seemed to an infatuated twelve-year-old, anyhow.

He yawned and then downed the rest of his coffee in an effort to quash
his tiredness, ignoring the heat that seared his insides. His sleep
hadn't been good either, his nightmares a mish-mash of Teacher, his
father and Syracousse, none of it pleasant. He seemed to be spending an
awful lot of his nights running from something, trying to escape, and
often woke up more exhausted than he'd been when he'd turned out the light.

Maybe it's the lack of Grade-As in your system, he mused while lighting
a cigarette. Maybe your body's just readjusting. God knows all this
clean living's got to be a shock to the synapses. The combination of
smoke and coffee was drying his mouth, but he didn't care, as he went to
the hall and gazed thoughtfully up to the landing. He'd given up kidding
himself a long time ago, and he knew his unsettled feelings had nothing
to do with the coke and the booze, and everything to do with the past.
His past.

?Maybe it's time to start a little self-help therapy,?he muttered,
climbing the stairs, his eyes fixed on the large

81

wooden loft door in the ceiling above. Maybe it's time to face down the
memories. And here's a really good place to start. Let's start with Dad.
You and Jason and Dad. Thirtieth May, 1976. You can face this one
without even leaving the house, Robster. So let's give it a go, shall
we? How hard can it be?

Chewing his bottom lip, Rob studied the attic hatch. This was the one
part of the house he hadn't explored since his return. Shit, he hadn't
been up there since that afternoon, and he'd made sure he was at
Syracousse when his mother's friends came to clear it out, his father
sitting like a zombie in front of the test card on the TV. That was
before the doctors came and took him away. His father had known what
executive burnout was long before those boys in the city gave it a name.

Not wanting to delay, to lose his nerve, Rob opened the laundry cupboard
by the small boxy room and found what he was looking for inside the
lintel of the doorframe, what he'd known would be there, forgotten but
waiting. Wrapping his hand around the old wooden pole, he felt the
memories flooding back.

?Are you sure this is okay? What if your mum comes back and catches us?
She'll go mad.?Jason's eyes were shining with excitement as Rob pulled
the long pole out of the cupboard, its length almost twice his height,
unwieldy in his small hands.

?She's not going to catch us. I told you, she's walking up to Dulverton
to see a friend. She'll be gone for hours. Anyway, I've just got to see
what he does up there all night.?

His dad had started using the attic as a study weeks ago and spent all
his time at home locked away in it, and Rob's curiosity was starting to
drive him crazy, like the itch under his plaster cast had when he broke
his ankle the summer before. No one was allowed up there, not even Mum.
Not that she'd go up there anyway. She never went up ladders, not beyond
the second step anyway. She

82

said that it wasn't dignified for ladies, what with their dresses and
everything, but he was pretty sure she was just plain scared. Girls were
like that. Even Carrie got funny sometimes, like when she wouldn't go up
to the highest branch in a tree just 'cos it was getting a bit thin.
Gina probably wouldn't do it either, but then Gina was different. She
wouldn't be scared of it, though. Not with the kind of things she could
do. No way.

Jason gripped the other end of the pole as they maneuvered it into
position under the latch, ready to slide it back. He was an inch shorter
than Rob, but his thin, pale frame was wiry, and he managed to steady
the wobble. ?Do you really think he's working on something top secret up
there??

Rob grinned as the hatch moved back, leaving a gaping square of
blackness above them. ?Gotta be. I reckon he's got a prototype of a new
kind of gun or something up there. Maybe even a nuke.?

Jason snorted. ?Sure thing, Robster. I bet they all get to take the
nukes home.?He paused. ?A gun'd be cool, though.?

Rob was pleased that Jase was as excited as he was. He was proud of his
dad, who worked in London for the Ministry of Defense. He loved the
sound of the words when he said them. They sounded special; important,
and he knew that Jason was pretty impressed, too. But then Jason was
pretty impressed with most of Rob's life, had been since they were kids
in preschool. Jason's dad worked part time in one of the new factories
that were springing up around the town, and he lived on the Hill like
Carrie, not here in Streatford where it was nicer. They didn't go up
there much.

Maybe Jason was more impressed with Gina's life right now, but they
hadn't been friends with Gina that long, only since Carrie had
introduced them after deciding she needed another girl in their gang.
And anyway, Gina may

83

have been rich and able to do weird stuff, but she didn't have the
Ministry of Defense.

They waved the pole around the edge of the square until they felt it
connect with the ladder. ?You'd better stand back, this ladder kind of
comes down fast.? There was a loud clattering of metal as the ladder
crashed down, its joints crunching as they slotted into place, and Jason
dived for cover into Rob's parents' bedroom doorway.

?Shit, that's loud.?He laughed, as he straightened up and stared at the
metal stairway that now rested on the carpet.

Rob too was looking, wondering for a second just how the hell they were
going to negotiate it back up again, not knowing that in about one and a
half minutes that was going to be the least of his worries. Oh well, the
ladder was down, and they might as well use it. His stomach contracted,
knowing his questions of the past weeks were about to be answered.

?Come on, then,?he whispered over his shoulder as he gripped the cold
rough steel and started to climb.

No further. Not yet, Rob told himself, firmly pushing the memories away.
The rest could wait a few minutes longer. The pole was light in his
hand, and he slid the cover away with ease. No need for two this time,
Jason old buddy. The hook edged under the bottom step of the ladder and
he eased it down slowly, letting it drop by itself for only the last few
inches. His heart beating in his chest, he stared at the rungs in front
of him for a few moments before glancing up into the darkness and
reaching for the first step. ?Come on, then,?he whispered to the
emptiness as he headed into the past.

He could feel Jason close behind him as he stepped over the final rung
and into the attic room. They stood silently side by side, for a moment,
their breath sounding harsh in the quiet as they enjoyed the final
moments of unsatiated curiosity, the anticipation like Christmas morning,

84

knowing you can finally rip all that pretty paper up and get to the
gloriously unknown present inside. ?It smells sort of funny in here.?Rob
couldn't see Jason's face in the gloom, but he knew he'd be crinkling
his nose in the same way he did when he smelled cabbage as he waited
hungrily in the queue for school lunch. Jase was right; it did smell
strange, something strong and sweet had invaded the musty wooden scent
that lived in all lofts, something sickly and new challenging the rights
of the old, traditional comforting odor. And then there was the buzzing,
the discordant hum coming from somewhere in front of him. In that
second, Rob didn't want to turn the light on, didn't want to be here at
all, and if he'd been on his own he'd probably have just turned right
back around. He was starting to think there were some things best left
unexplored. Things that smelled like this. Things that smelled wrong. He
swatted something, maybe a cobweb, away from his face.

?Well, turn the light on then, slowcoach.?Jason elbowed him. ?I want to
see this gun.?Rob wondered momentarily why they were talking in whispers
alone at the top of an empty house as his hand moved involuntarily up to
the light switch above his shoulder. Flicking it down, he squeezed his
eyes shut against the glare of the light. No turning back now, he
thought to himself. For a long second he heard nothing, except that
awful buzzing that sounded like a live electric cable hissing at them,
and then Jason, whose breath had caught in his throat, finally let out a
long whistle that was more like a sigh. ?Holy moley. Holy, holy
moley.?He giggled slightly, a jagged sound from a boy whose only
response to something he didn't understand, couldn't understand was to
laugh instead of show fear.

Rob slowly opened his eyes and looked at the scene that presented itself
to him, looked into his father's office, into his father's mind.
Something secret had definitely

85

been going on here, something top secret, something the Ministry of
Defense would surely love to know about.

The desk that David Black had built himself was pushed against one wall,
the chair neatly tucked beneath it, to make room for the pyramids that
covered the ground, covered its surface. The triangular piles were
everywhere, in all sizes, the walls covered with newspaper, official
documents all made into the required shape. Rob's eyes moved around the
room in disbelief. This couldn't be right, this couldn't be right at
all. In one corner there was a pyramid of neatly folded towels and
dishcloths, and it looked from here as if the base was made from his
mother's guest valance she kept clean in the spare bedroom for visitors
who were never invited. How could she not know it was missing? What did
she think had happened to it? Maybe she didn't want to know. He could
feel his whole body shaking, but still he stared, couldn't help but
stare at all his father's hard work.

Down to the left by his feet was a carefully constructed pyramid of
playing cards whose point came above his knees, and he thought he saw
traces of glue holding it together; his father had glued it together,
determined it should not collapse, it was important that it stood
impervious to movement. Rob's stomach turned and he was unaware of the
bubbling sound his breath was making as it escaped between his clenched
teeth. His head was filled with the image of his father, huddled over
the pile of cards, carefully, painstakingly gluing them all into place.
Hours and hours of concentrated effort. How many hours, Dad?

Finally, unable to resist any longer, he turned to face the piece de
resistance, his father's masterpiece that took up most of the space in
the center of the room. The other pyramids were inconsequential next to
this, like artist's sketches made before undertaking a work of
magnificence. From the corner of his eye, Rob could see Jason staring at
him, staring at him as if his father's madness

86

were catching. With a small moan, he stepped forward, gazing at the
three-foot-high mountain--not mountain, it was a pyramid fit for the
pharaoh of rats, not a mountain at all, built entirely from rotting
food, the flies, black and angry, swarming madly around it protecting
their domain. There were remains of every evening meal his mother had
carefully prepared for weeks, his father smiling and telling her he'd
eat it in his office, ?So much work, so little time. Got a country to
protect from the Commies, you know.?An hour later he'd reappear with the
tray telling her how delicious it had been. There were sandwiches in
there, his father's packed lunches brought carefully home, and Rob
noticed as his insides freewheeled that there were things there, other
things, like used tea bags, half-eaten items no longer recognizable,
moving with the maggots that squirmed inside, blending into the green
that was overtaking them, turning them into something else, something
new and not yet formed. Things that his dad could only have got from the
rubbish. ?What did you do, Dad??He whispered to the monstrosity in front
of him, as if its decaying form could give him an answer. ?What did you
do? Did you sneak out in the middle of the night to see what you could
find??

He felt Jason shaking his arm, and looked numbly into those wide, scared
eyes. ?I think we should get out of here, Robster. I think you should go
find your mum. I don't think this is right.?

It was then that Rob began to laugh, laugh louder and louder until he
thought his deadened heart would burst with the sound of it, his
eardrums aching with the unwelcome noise. He felt like he would laugh
forever, laugh at the ridiculousness of it, at the ridiculousness of him
and Jason and no, he didn't think it was right either, definitely not
right at all. He stepped backwards on unstable legs, sliding down the
back wall, wanting the wood to absorb him into its solid stability.
Somewhere in the movement, and for the life of him he didn't notice
when, it seemed

87

that the laughter had turned to tears, tears that wouldn't stop, tears
that threatened to choke him, and he felt Jason slowly sitting down next
to him, uncertain of what to do, clumsy with the emotion. Eventually,
Rob felt Jase's slight arm around his hunched, hot shoulders, the gentle
pressure slowly calming his emotions, slowing the flood to a stream. And
there they stayed, sitting like lords of the flies amidst the ruins of
Rob's perfect life, until his mother got home.

Crouching against the wall in the empty room, the musty scent, lonely
after all these years making way for its one-time visitor, Rob cried for
the second time that week, cried for the boy he had been, for his father
who died of shame, misunderstood in an unforgiving era, abandoned and
alone in the company of strangers. A man whose heart attack had been a
relief to his family. Had been a relief to his son. Jesus, Dad, I'm
sorry. I'm so sorry. The thought felt useless, the sentiment too late.
He wiped his eyes. He'd gone twenty years or more without shedding a
single tear and now that he was home, it seemed they wouldn't stop.
Christ, you were a shit as a child, and you're sure as hell a bigger
shit now. Some things just don't change, do they? You're not such a
bigshot now, are you, Robster?

He could hear Jason in his head voicing his internal thoughts, not the
stranger that he'd met the other day, the Jason-in-disguise, but the
Jason from that day, from this room, the Jason who'd been his best
buddy, the best buddy a boy could ask for. The Jason who would never,
ever have done that terrible thing on the hot last day of term in the
classroom, if Rob hadn't driven him to it. The Jason who had tried to
help Teacher when he and Carrie had just looked on in horror. The Jason
who was special and funny. The Jason he'd thrown away out of shame by
closing himself off, by put-downs and barbed remarks. By the kind of
cruelty that only kids are capable of.

Yeah, that Jason in his head was right; the twelve-year-old Jason who
never minced his words. He was a shit. A

88

Grade-A shit, through and through. What the hell had he been thinking,
coming home? Facing his demons? What the hell good was that now?
Couldn't help him or Carrie or his dad or even goddamn poor Teacher.

Suddenly he was laughing, the tears evaporating, welcomed by the musty
air. And he'd thought coming up here might make him feel better? The
irony was a little too much and he snorted into his hands, emotionally
exhausted. Kill the self-pity, he told himself, his own voice this time.
A bastard you may be, but hell, you're a rich one. Life could have
turned out worse for you.

He hauled himself to his feet, and switched the light off, eager to get
down to the present. He'd had enough of the past for one day, and as he
slid the lid over the attic a few minutes later, he got the sneaking
suspicion that the past had had enough of him, too.

89

Judge Matthews had quite forgotten his arthritis as he leapt his
skeletal, pajama-clad body out of the bed and stood barefoot on the cold
carpet. He smiled and twitched nervously as he chewed his fingernails,
staring at the exposed sheets that glowed white in the moonlight
filtering in through the gap in the curtains. He knew he should turn the
light on just to confirm it, but he also knew what he'd find. Ants. Ants
everywhere. He absently scratched himself. Ants in his pants. The
thought made him giggle slightly, although the feel of his sharp hipbone
under the thin cotton gave a small part of his mind, a part that wasn't
quite yet bug obsessed, a moment of concern. He really should try to
force himself to eat something tomorrow. He'd go out and eat something.
That would probably be safest. Yes, that's what he'd do.

He couldn't bear to eat anything at home, not after the ?day before
yesterday, when he'd found they'd invaded every cereal box in his
cupboards, and the milk bottle, although securely fastened with the
new-fangled plastic lid, had been lined with hundreds of tiny, black drowned

90

corpses, as it stood cold in the fridge. He had a vague memory of
throwing up after that, and somehow from then until now, food hadn't
been high on his list of priorities.

Staring down in the darkness, he was sure he could see them scurrying
around his mattress, taunting him, daring him to take action. He licked
his lips as his eyes darted quickly, trying to keep up with them. Well,
take action he would. He was a judge, had been a judge, and no
infestation was going to get the better of him, no matter where it came
from. Feeling for his slippers, neatly placed beside his bed, he left
the light off--no warnings would be given in this war--and felt his way,
stumbling slightly into the hallway. He pulled the door shut firmly
behind him and then flicked the switch, muttering to himself as the
stairway illuminated. There was no trace of them here, but then how
they'd gotten into his shower yesterday, he still couldn't understand.
He shivered with the memory of standing beneath that stream of clear
water, of tilting his head back in the spray, and then gagging as the
water turned into a black stream. A black stream that wanted to get
inside him, inside his mouth. A black stream of madness.

He grunted as he turned on the kitchen light and switched on the kettle
that he'd taken to keeping full, and boiling every half an hour or so in
case of emergencies. Madness. Yes, that's what Daisy would call it. He'd
seen it in the unhappy expression in her eyes yesterday. She thought his
mind had finally caught up with his degenerating body, and maybe it had,
maybe it had. In many ways he hoped she was right, madness he could live
with, but the ants--the source of the ants--he couldn't.

He'd gone next door the morning after he'd first noticed his visitors,
when things were still normal, to see where they were coming from. That
was when the world first started to slip off-kilter, not in any
noticeable way, just the tiniest slide to the left or right. There were
no ants in Daisy's garden, you see. No ants at all. They searched

91

and searched but found nothing, Daisy regarding him thoughtfully with
those sharp blue eyes, the intelligence there so often missed by those
who only saw her wizened face. So if there were no ants in Daisy's
garden, how were they still coming through the fence to his? Where were
they coming from? Slightly embarrassed, he'd left her and gone home,
confused, to stare at the inhabitants of his patio through the
protection of the glass.

The kettle was starting to throw out steam, and too impatient to let it
switch itself off, Ernest unplugged it and headed back to the stairs.

After the incident with the milk, something had cracked. He had still
been in his slippers when he headed out, this time going around the side
of Daisy's house to where her fence ran alongside the path leading down
to the river, the outside fence that was guaranteed to get vandalized
and daubed on at least once every summer. He'd seen his breath misting
in front of him as he watched the procession coming up the path with
mildly hysterical disbelief. They were coming up the path like a tiny
army, trudging relentlessly forward. As they reached his feet, they made
a sharp right and went under Daisy's fence. They're tunneling, he'd
thought in numb amazement, stifling the first of the unconscious fits of
giggles that were to become such a part of his life. They're tunneling
under her lawn to get to mine. He stared at the thin procession until
his toes became numb, and then slowly turned and walked against the
tide, his head down, studying his silent adversaries. Where were they
coming from? Where were the little bastards coming from?

It was when he'd crossed the river--how far were they traveling?--that
he'd first felt the shiver of terrified anticipation, and then, when his
freezing form finally came to a stop outside those old, forgotten iron
gates, he realized?that he'd known; it was crazy, but he'd known all
along that the trail would lead here, to this house, to Syracousse.

He'd met Daisy on his way home, while he was still

92

somewhere between laughing and crying. She'd taken the scenic walk back
from the shops, and she looked at him, that sadness in her eyes, in her
whole face, as she took in his slippers, and his laughing and his lack
of a coat, and had asked him if everything was okay. That had made him
laugh even harder, envious of Daisy looking so right with her Budgen's
shopping and her red, sensible coat and matching gloves, when everything
was so completely not okay, his world fracturing around him. ?I've been
on an ant hunt,?he told her as they walked, she solemn and he wiping
tears away from his cheeks with crippled hands. ?They're coming from
Toombes Meadow. They're coming all the way from Syracousse to see me.
Should I feel flattered??

Daisy had said nothing as he entertained himself with thoughts of
insanity. ?I'll pop in tomorrow. Have a cup of tea.? He had nodded and
waved in agreement before shutting his door on her. And true to her
word, she had called around, he thought as he progressed back up toward
the bedroom. He hadn't let her in, of course. He had been far too busy
at work in the bathroom for any socializing, but she had rung the bell
several times. Daisy always had been a woman of her word. A fine woman.

Opening the bedroom door, this time he did reach for the light switch,
flooding the room with the yellow glare. He wasn't surprised to see the
mass of black that covered his mattress, frozen in the shock of the
brightness. Tutting to himself, he approached and started to pour, the
satisfaction of genocide somewhat tainted by an itch that started in his
ear. He couldn't quite reach it with the little finger of his spare hand.

His bed soaked, he turned to fetch a blanket from the airing cupboard,
before heading back downstairs to sleep the rest of the night on the
sofa. He dug his finger deeper and scratched.

93

It had taken Jason all of ten minutes during his lunch break to empty
his meager savings account and spend it. He'd parted with most of what
was left of his wages, too, leaving himself twenty quid to get through
the four days until payday. No more living the high life for me then, he
thought as he turned onto the lane that led to the rear entrance of
Brown's, The Family Greengrocer. Thirty-seven years old and twenty
pounds to my name. Maybe it's time to sign up for Who Wants to Be a
Millionaire? But then again, maybe not. No amount of money could be
worth letting that smug bastard patronize you on national television. He
picked up his overalls from the shelf where he'd dumped them on his way
out, and started tugging them over his boots and jeans.

Bob was leaning his heavy frame on a stack of crates by the far wall,
slurping up Chunky soup; one with bits of pasta in it. He didn't wait
until he'd swallowed before?speaking, eyeing Jason with curious
suspicion. ?What did you take your overalls off for to go and get your
lunch? You've only been gone quarter of an hour at most.?

94

Jason looked at the other man for a second, and silently wondered what
it was that he'd done with his life that warranted having to work with
Bob. His merciless brain fired several answers back at him, none of
which he could deny. Looking down, he zipped up the green canvas material.

?I had things to do.?He hoped his curt, soft tone would shut Bob up, but
then his colleague had never been one to understand the nuances of
language, or even take a hint for that matter. Bob snorted as if Jason
had said the most ridiculous thing in the world, shaking his head
slightly as he scooped another spoon load into his still full mouth.

Jason's anger was beginning to rise. This wasn't the day to start
pissing him off. He really, really wasn't in the mood. And who the hell
did this ignorant oaf think he was, looking down on him? How could
someone be that stupid and so far up their own arse all at the same
time? His smile was thin and tight, his eyes colder than they'd been in
a long time, probably since the days when he'd fight anyone who was
willing to throw some hard punches back.

His insides had been screwed up tight since he'd first heard about
Carrie, screwed up with grief and not a little fear. It seemed that the
scars on his hands and arms had been itching ever since he'd read her
damned suicide message in the paper, itching just enough to keep him
remembering, to keep him looking at that piece of notebook he'd pulled
out of the bin, the one with Robster's phone number on it, the writing
blurred by thrown-away coffee. And then there was the business he'd just
taken care of. That awful bleak business. Yep, all in all, his mind had
been pretty fried by the events of this month, scrambled enough for him
to throw his carefully applied diplomacy of the past few weeks out of
the window. He paused for a second, enjoying what he was about to do,
before he spoke.

His voice was soft and lilting, as if he were talking to a slow child.
?It may surprise you to learn that overalls

95

aren't always the most appropriate things to be seen in. Unlike you, I
am not an ignorant fuck, and I happen to be aware of certain social
protocols. Unlike you, I don't get so excited over the prospect of
spending the rest of my life lugging cabbages around that I have to go
home and wank over my uniform.?He raised one eyebrow at Bob, whose mouth
was wide open, the half-chewed pasta on display, mangled pieces
threatening to fall out of the yawning hole. Jason's smile widened. ?I
take it that is what those stains are? I've often wondered but never
wanted to ask. It all comes back to social protocols, you see.?

Bob's jaw seemed to be moving, not chewing, but a jerky up-and-down
action, as if it were begging his brain to give it something to say.
Something, anything. Jason noticed that the big man's grip had tightened
around the mug so hard that his knuckles were white. Any moment now it's
going to implode with the pressure. He's going to crush it like a tin
can and then he's going to crush me. Oh boy, you really picked a good
one this time. This has got to be up there in the top ten of fights with
no chance of winning.

It seemed to Jason in those few tense moments as he held the big man's
stare that the walls of the warehouse were breathing with him, panting
in anticipation of the blood to come. Ready for it. Tired of its
vegetarian diet. Any moment now, any moment now he's going to come at
me. He knew the signs; he knew how long the insult would take to filter
into that dull brain of Bob's. His body crackled, tensing as his mind
raced, mentally running through what was in the room, what he could get
to, that would help him against the Goliath he'd pissed off. He really
didn't think cabbages were going to do the trick.

The buzzer rang loudly three times, and both men jumped, the tension
fracturing, sucked away for a second by their sharp intakes of breath.
Bob dropped the mug, his brain unable to deal with the two pressing
issues-- wanting to kill Jason so badly and the buzzer. Three times
means trouble.

96

?Shit!?The china smashed at his feet, the glutinous contents splattering
all over the lower half of the overalls that started this crap in the
first place. ?Fucking shit!?

Jason slowly strolled past him, his heart still pounding with
adrenaline. ?I'll go deal with it. You stay here and clear up your
mess.?Going into the shop, he let out a long sigh. Okay, so he was still
going to have to face up to the confrontation, but at least he had a
reprieve. And from what he knew of men like Bob, once the moment was
gone, they weren't that likely to use their fists. Nope, he'll just
settle for getting you fired instead. This is really turning out to be
something of a day. And it was just about to get worse.

Coming through the side doorway, he saw Mary's wide eyes beckoning him
from behind the register, before flicking away to her left and then back
again. The only person near her was one of the old biddies from the
sheltered housing community, so at least she wasn't getting robbed. One
close brush with physical violence was enough for one day. He wasn't as
young and feisty as he used to be. So what the hell had spooked her
enough to buzz the alarm?

Walking past the register to be able to see whatever it was Mary and the
old woman were staring at, his brow furrowed as he turned around the
L-shaped wall. Three customers passed him as they scurried out,
abandoning their groceries, unpurchased, at the open doorway. He barely
noticed them. Was that Judge Matthews? Could that really be the judge?

The man, the tramp, at the far end of the shop was eagerly devouring a
peach, tossing the stone to the ground as he reached for another, pieces
of the fleshy meat clinging to his chin as the juices ran down his
scrawny neck. There were already four pits abandoned by his slippered
feet. He's wearing slippers. And are those pyjamas peering out from
under the tan overcoat? Old man Madness has finally got him. Jason
watched in silence for a few minutes before he cautiously moved forward.

97

He noticed that the judge was muttering to himself as he ate, spraying a
fine mist of fruit with every word, and his eyes darted feverishly
around him, wide and bloodshot. I hope I go before this gets me, Jason
thought as he brought himself within two feet of the tragic old man. I
wouldn't want anyone to see me like this. To remember me like this. But
then, he considered, it wasn't really likely anyone would remember him
anyway, not like they would the judge. The judge was part of Streatford.
He'd been there forever.

Jason's nose crinkled as he came face to face with the grunting,
slurping man. Jesus, he stank. A mixture of stale sweat, bad breath, pee
and God only knew what else radiated from him in a warm, nauseating
glow. How long has he been without a bath? And just how long has he been
wearing those fucking pyjamas? Although they were face to face, the
judge seemed to be staring right through him, and Jason gently touched
his arm.

?You'll make yourself ill if you eat too many of those, Your Honor. Why
don't you come around to the back and I'll make you a nice cup of tea?
Warm you up a bit. It's my lunch break, and I could use the company.?
His voice was so different to the one of only moments ago when speaking
to Bob. There was no latent aggression here, no sarcasm, just gentle
compassion. This voice belonged to a different Jason; a Jason who'd
almost forgotten he'd once existed, so much so that the present Jason
didn't even notice he was there.

The judge didn't move, and his eyes didn't meet the younger man's, but
when he spoke he seemed to be addressing him, addressing someone. His
tongue darted out and moistened the thin lips of his decaying face. ?I
can't eat at home you see. Nothing's safe there. They get in everything,
everything! Everywhere I look. If I eat at home, they'll get in me. In
me, imagine that.? He paused and scratched at his ear. When he pulled
his finger out, it was pink with blood, and he examined it momentarily,

98

seeming pleased with the results. ?I can't eat. Can't sleep. Have to
stay vigilant. Have to stay alert. I won't let them win. I won't!?He
turned away and reached for a new piece of fruit.

Jason firmly held his arm back, careful not to hurt him, but wanting to
keep his attention. ?Won't let who win? Who's bothering you??

The old man twitched. ?Ants, of course. Ants everywhere.?He giggled as
though it should have been obvious.

Jason knew it was going to take more than ant powder to solve the
judge's problems, but he figured it would be a good way to get in the
house with a social worker. ?Maybe I can help. I could come around with
a friend and some ant powder, and give the house a good going over to
get rid of them. I could come this afternoon if you like.?

The old man nodded to himself, his eyes drifting off. ?Ant powder. Yes,
yes, that's what I need, ant powder.? His voice drifted off to a mutter,
and Jason thought he was losing him again. He wished Mary would stop
gawking and ring social services. Out of the corner of his eye, he could
see a large black shadow near the register, and he knew Bob had emerged
to watch the show. He brought his focus back. He could ring social
services later himself.

?Do you know where they're coming from, these ants? Maybe if we can find
their nest, we can get rid of them completely. It shouldn't be hard.
Nothing to worry about.?

Judge Matthews started to shake as he laughed, a hard, cold, mad sound.
Snot escaped his nose, and he didn't wipe it away. This time his eyes
met Jason's as he lowered his voice to a whisper and drew in closer.
Jason tried to ignore the stench, to not let his repulsion show on his
face. ?Oh yes, I know where they're coming from. Oh yes, I know. I told
Daisy, but she didn't believe me, oh no, I could see it on her face. She
thought I was mad.?His words were clipped, hurried. ?I used to be a
judge, you know. I can tell a lot about people from their faces. I can
see who you are in your face.?He stopped and drew a

99

sharp breath, as the shock of recognition widened his eyes. ?You!?

Jason frowned, confused. ?You know me, Judge Matthews. Jason. Jason
Milburn. I've known you since I was a kid.?Always in trouble, he almost
added.

The judge nodded, hatred glowing in his twisted face. ?Yesss,?he hissed.
?I know you, you and your friends. You and that writer and the two
little sluts. I remember, you see. I remember everything. So many
secrets, haven't you? So much guilt. So much dirty guilt eating at you.
So much blame.?

Jason could hear his heart in his ears, trying to pound away the sounds
of the man's accusing words. It's just mad ramblings, just the insane
talk of an old man. He'd say the same to anyone. He knows everyone. It
doesn't mean a thing. He felt his stomach lurch as the man gripped his
arm tight and pulled him in closer. Secrets. Guilt. Blame.

?So why are they coming for me? Why are those little black monsters
coming all the way from there, just for me? Can you tell me? You and
your friends??

Jason felt liquid on his face as the judge spat the words out at him and
this time he cringed with the sensation. He no longer wanted to help. He
was getting more than he bargained for. Now all he wanted was to get the
fuck away from this ranting madman, and he wanted it more than anything
in the whole world. ?Where are they coming from??he whispered, trying to
pull his arm away, not liking the feel of that cool, leathery skin
against his.

A slow, sly smile crept across Ernest Matthew's face. ?Do you really
want an answer, young man? Do you need one? Can't you feel it? I bet fat
Carole-Anne could. Yes, I believe that under all that blubber her
deadened soul could feel it.?He paused and Jason felt those fevered eyes
crawling all over his face. ?Syracousse. They're coming from Syracousse.?

Jason felt his skin go numb as the words echoed in his

100

head. Syracousse. They're coming from Syracousse. No, that couldn't be.
That just couldn't be. His head was swimming and he badly needed to sit
down. Sit down before he fell down.

He realized after a moment that the pressure on his arm had gone. The
judge had let go. He stared at the old man, his whole body shaking.
?What do you mean they're coming from there? Tell me what you mean, you
crazy bastard!? His voice was loud and harsh, too loud, but he didn't
care what Mary and Bob made of it, not caring about anything, resisting
the urge to grab the man in front of him and rattle what was left of his
pathetic life right out of him. ?What do you mean??

The judge's eyes had glazed over, and he was muttering to himself again
as he wandered away, Jason forgotten as if he weren't even there. ?Ant
powder. That's what I need. Ant powder.? He shuffled, lost once again in
his strange world, out of the shop and across the road to O'Neale's
without even glancing for oncoming traffic. Jason stared at the
retreating figure, wishing that he'd just stayed out back and let Bob
beat the living shit out of him. A cool sweat had formed on his face and
he felt as if his insides were trembling. Secrets. Guilt. Blame. Syracousse.

?What did he say to you? You're as white as a sheet.?

Jason hadn't noticed Mary approaching him, and he jumped. ?What??

Mary's plump face searched his. ?I said you're as white as a sheet. Are
you okay??

Jason nodded, and tried to control his breathing, steadying himself,
just the rantings of a sad old man. That's all it was. He doesn't know
anything. He can't know anything. He wasn't there.

?Yeah, sorry. I guess it just shook me up seeing the old boy like that.
Never expected it of him.?

Mary nodded. ?He'd gone downhill quick, too. He was in last week, and he
seemed fine. But then you never can tell, can you??

101

?No,?Jason whispered, still staring out at the street, staring but not
seeing, his mind being dragged to a past he'd long ago fought to forget.
?No you never can, can you??

Mary touched his arm. ?Tell you what, you go and have a cup of tea. It's
still your lunch break anyway. I'll send Bob down to the health center.
See if he can get someone to go give Mr. Matthews a visit.? Her voice
was gentle, and for a moment Jason thought the kindness in it would make
him cry. He squeezed his eyes shut and kissed her on the forehead.

?Thanks. You're an angel.?

The stout woman blushed slightly. ?Get on with you, you'll have people
talking! You know what this town's like. Doesn't take much to get a
rumor started.? She ushered him maternally past Bob and back toward the
side door. Bob started to follow, but she stopped him with a glare. ?Not
you. I need you to go down to the doctor's.?

Jason didn't wait for the end of the conversation, but headed gratefully
into the gloomy solitude of the corridor and the cool of the warehouse.
With shaking hands, he pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket, and
went outside, where, despite his nausea, he lit one and inhaled hard.

The nicotine felt good as it flooded his system, and he slid down the
rough bricks until he was crouching, his knees tight against his chest,
his back supported by the wall behind him. Just a crazy old man, he told
himself. Just a crazy old man who didn't know what he was saying. It
sounded good in his head, but hard as he tried, he didn't believe
himself. He didn't believe himself one little bit as he rested his tired
head against the cement and shut his eyes and remembered. Remembered the
beginning. When three became four.

?You'll really like her. And her house is just too cool, so get a move
on! I don't want to be late.? Carole-Anne said, her hands on her small
hips as she turned to glare at the two of them, her forehead wrinkling
under her bangs as she squinted in the late-April sun.

102

?We're coming, we're coming. Keep your hair on.? Rob looked at Jason and
the two exchanged a conspiratorial look. Sometimes Carrie could be such
a girl, and today was one of those occasions. Jason looked down at his
tatty sneakers, the cloth more gray than white and stretched where his
toes were getting too big for them, and watched them scuffling along
next to Rob's bigger, cleaner, newer shoes.

Carrie had insisted they dress up in their best jeans and t-shirts to
officially meet her new friend, but unlike Rob, he only had jeans. Old,
worn-out and in need of replacing. He'd seen the embarrassed look on
Robster's face when they'd picked him up in his smart new Wranglers and
stain-free shirt. It was a look that kicked its owner. A look that said,
I should have thought. If Rob could have gone upstairs and changed back
into his scruffy clothes without making it obvious, then he would have.

Jason sighed, blowing his hair out of his face. Life was shit when you
were poor. It didn't help that this Gina girl seemed pretty loaded,
either. A big house by the river all on its own and a dad who worked in
London like Rob's did. Yeah, he could just imagine what she was going to
make of him. But then, she wanted to be friends with Carrie, and Carrie
lived on the estate just like he did. Still, he wasn't looking forward
to the pitying sideways looks, however well-intentioned, that was for sure.

He kicked a stone from the gravel track as they turned away from the
towpath. ?I don't see why we have to meet this girl. I bet she's really
wet and going to want to play with dolls or something.?

Rob laughed, and Jason looked up to the taller, broader boy whose smile
was always wide and open, and felt a twinge of envy. Everything always
seemed so easy for Rob. Great family, great house, great shitting life
for that matter. How come he got to be the tallest, too? Sometimes as
much as he loved Rob, it was hard not to hate him. But those moments
always passed in a blink of an eye, and

103

then they were just best buddies again. Jase and the Robster. Sounded
like a good name for a film. A film about a pair of outlawed cowboys,
always on the run.

?I wasn't being funny. Why do we need to hang around with a girl??

Rob shrugged. ?Carrie's a girl.?

?Yeah, but Carrie's different. She's cool. Most of the time I don't even
notice she's a girl.?That wasn't exactly true. Over the past year or so,
he'd begun to think about Carrie being a girl more and more. It was
difficult not to, not now that she was beginning to look like one.
Sometimes, he'd be looking at her and she'd catch his eye and smile and
he'd feel himself tingling all over. He ignored it, though. He didn't
want them to grow up. He didn't want them to change. He wanted them to
be best friends forever. And now there was this Gina from Carrie's
library club, and it felt like change to him. He glowered at his canvas
shoes. ?I don't see why Carrie needs this new friend anyway. She's got
us. We don't need anyone else.?

Rob elbowed him in the ribs, grinning. ?Now you sound like a whining
girl. You know what Carrie's like. She's probably going through one of
those weird spells she has when she wants to be all feminine. You know,
just like the nail polish.?

Jason started to smile. Yeah, the nail polish. How could he forget? For
a whole month she'd insisted on wearing that awful pink stuff; a cheap
bottle off the market, just 'cos she'd seen some woman wearing something
like it in a film. The problem was, she wasn't any good at putting it on
and it was always all over her fingers. And she never let it dry
properly so whatever she'd managed to get on her nails was always
smudged into clumps.

A cool breeze brushed by them, temporarily invading the early summer
warmth, and he stuffed his hands into the baggy pockets of his jeans.
?You reckon??

Rob nodded as they caught up to Carrie, who was waiting by the front
gates. ?Yup. By this time next week this

104

Gina girl will be forgotten. So let's just grin and bear it, okay??

Jason nodded and then took a deep breath as he took in the house.
?Wow,?he breathed. ?That's beautiful.? The house looked like something
out of a book or magazine, its outside painted pale yellow with perfect
white window frames, and plants and flowers with a thousand colors
lining the short driveway up to the front door.

Carrie slid her arm through his, and her eyes were shining. ?Wait 'til
you see the inside and the back garden. Come on, let's go 'round to the
side gate. Gina said she'd be in the garden.?

The two boys followed her as she led the way, and Jason noticed that
Rob's face had grown quiet. Maybe he didn't like the fact that Carrie's
new friend was better off than he was. He shook the thought away. Nah.
Robster was better than that. Carrie brought them to a halt by a large
tree, behind which was a small metal gate built into the wall. She swung
it open and led the way. Jason felt butterflies starting up in his
stomach. He hated meeting new people, and now that he was here, now that
he'd seen the house, he felt like he was about to meet the shitting queen.

His feet led him behind the others, past the large pond that was more
like a small lake, fish busy making their homes in it, their darting
fins covering the water with ripples, and around to the garden.

A rug was laid out on the lawn and a girl in a pale blue summer dress
lay on it, belly down, reading a book, her long chestnut hair held back
by a yellow ribbon, the same color as the house.

?Gina!?Carrie's shout was loud, and the girl looked up, shocked for a
second, and then she smiled. Watching as she stood up and brushed
herself down, Jason felt his insides go all funny, the way they did
sometimes with Carrie. How come he'd never noticed this girl at school?

Finally, they came to a stop in front of her. Carrie was almost bouncing
with pleasure. ?Gina, this is Rob and

105

Jason, the boys I was telling you about. Guys, this is Gina.?

?Pleased to meet you.?The girl held her hand out and Rob blushed and
muttered something as he shook it. Jason wondered if his insides were
going weird as well. Probably, by the looks of it. When it was his turn,
he took her tiny hand, enjoyed feeling her soft skin, and smiled.
Shaking hands was one of those things he'd normally laugh at; it was one
of those things posh grown-ups like Rob's parents did, but with Gina it
didn't seem weird at all. Her face was even prettier close up, her eyes
a glorious blue, and her tiny nose made Carrie's look like a clumsy
afterthought.

?Your house is great.?How come he found the words so clumsy? What was
the matter with his mouth? Gina didn't seem to notice, and she smiled,
showing two rows of perfect tiny white teeth.

?Thanks. My grandfather built it.?Jason was trying to think of something
to say next when they were interrupted by a woman's voice.

?Gina!?Standing at the back door was a slim blond woman dressed in
cream, with high-heeled shoes on. She was the most glamorous woman Jason
thought he'd ever seen outside of a film. His mum wore stilettos
sometimes, awful cheap white things, but she never looked like this.
?I've made some lemonade! Why don't you and your friends come in and get
some? You can take it outside with you. There's biscuits, too.?

The woman disappeared inside, and as the four children stepped through
the back door, Jason could smell the lingering scent of vanilla. He
stared at the jug on the side. ?Your mum makes lemonade??He couldn't
keep the surprise out of his voice. ?Not even Rob's mum does that.?Rob
sent him a scowl, and Jason shrugged in apology.

Gina was opening a cupboard and pulling out some tall tumblers, her bare
feet balancing on tiptoes. She was shorter than Jason, and he liked
that. Carrie was just about as tall as he was these days. Gina smiled
over her shoulder. ?She likes cooking. My parents do a lot of entertaining.?

106

Rob stepped out in front of Jason. ?Do you want me to get those down? I
can probably reach them easiest.?Jason resisted the urge to dig his
friend in the ribs. He didn't need any reminding that he was never going
to be the first choice for a basketball team.

Gina shook her head. ?I can manage. I don't know why they're on the top
shelf; they're normally kept on the bottom. Mum must have been tidying
out the cupboards again.? As she spoke, one of the glasses slipped
through her fingers, smashing into a thousand tiny shards on the floor.
The shock sent her off balance and she stepped backward.

The next moment seemed to play in slow motion in Jason's head. The glass
tumbling to the floor, exploding, covering the ground around Gina with
its splintered form; and then her foot, the smooth bare sole of her
small foot stepping backward as she wobbled, and he thought, She's going
to land right on all that glass; she's going to cut her foot to ribbons.
And he wondered whether there was time to reach forward and grab her,
but everything was going too shitting fast, and then he felt his heart
stop beating for a second as IT HAPPENED.

The glass shot away from under her foot. Every last tiny piece. It moved
away from under her approaching skin; just like that experiment they did
at school with two magnets, it moved as if it were repelled by
something. But it wasn't just the glass she was about to cut herself on.
In that split second all the glass on the floor swept itself into a neat
pile by the cooker away from them all. Just like that. One minute it was
everywhere, and then it was sucked away.

Gina's foot came down on the harmless tiles. No one looked at her. They
were all staring at the floor. There was a moment's silence before
Carrie spoke. ?Did anyone else see that, or am I going crazy??

?I think we're all going crazy.?That was Rob, his voice barely audible.

There was the sound of ice cubes tinkling in a glass, and Jason looked
up to see Gina pouring out the

107

lemonade. ?I seem to do that kind of thing quite a lot. Don't worry
about it.?She smiled at them, something close to pride in her face.

A long time after that day, when things had started going bad, Jason
wondered whether maybe she'd broken that glass on purpose. To show off
to her new friends. To make sure they'd come back. But on that April
afternoon, it was just the coolest thing he'd ever seen anyone do.

?You did that??

She nodded and handed him a glass. ?I'm not sure how. Just sometimes it
happens. It's like I can get myself out of trouble.?

Rob was laughing. ?That is just so far out!?

Carrie had found a dustpan and brush and was sweeping up the glass. ?I
told you she wasn't like other girls. So are we all going to be friends
or what??

And that was how the summer started. How three became four.

Jason opened his eyes and stared at the wall opposite him. His legs were
starting to cramp with the cold, but he ignored them. He could still
hear that smashing glass in his head. His soul ached with emptiness. How
different would it have all been if Carrie had never joined that
ridiculous library club? Where would they all be now? Would Carrie still
be here, instead of cold and sad down at that hospital morgue? Would she
have married Jimmy Locke? Or would Jason have got his wish, all he'd
ever really wanted? Would they all have been best buddies forever?

The cold was making his nose run. Guilt. Secrets. Syracousse. Well, if
the old man had been rambling, then he'd got very lucky with his
guesses. His legs twinging beneath him, he dragged himself upright.
Yeah, he'd talk to Rob after the funeral. He wanted to talk. Needed to
talk, and the sad thing was that the rich bastard was the only person he
had left whom he could talk to. His heart heavy, feeling like he
desperately needed a drink, he went back inside.

108

Standing on the doorstep of the terraced, Edwardian house, Kelly was
beginning to feel ridiculous. Why had she agreed to do this for her dad?
Rob would no doubt already know about the funeral; after all, he and
CaroleAnne had been good friends, even if it was a long time ago. But
then, she knew her father well enough to know that this was more about
matchmaking than about passing on information. Yeah, she figured she'd
read her father's mind pretty well. And maybe he'd read hers with the
ease at which she agreed to this visit she was now regretting. Surely
he'd never noticed the crush she had on Rob when they were at school?
She groaned inside. Of course he had. He was a policeman at the end of
the day, and perhaps, after all the stuff with his dad and then Gina,
her concern for the boy who hadn't even known she'd existed was a little
obvious.

Still, she thought, drawing herself up. School was a long time ago for
all of them and there had been a whole lot of bigger crushes from the
time Rob disappeared off to

109

boarding school and the day her love life died with the internal
admission that all men were bastards or not worth the effort. Smoothing
out her jeans, she rang the doorbell. Here goes, then. She tried to
ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach. God, this was going to be
so embarrassing; standing on a virtual stranger's doorstep, looking like
the village gossip. She saw a shadow approaching through the glass panel
and resisted the urge to run away. Five minutes and it would all be
over. Job done. She took a deep breath as the door opened.

The first thing she noticed was that he was still gorgeous in the flesh.
A little thin, a little tired-looking, but gorgeous all the same. The
second thing she noticed was that he looked confused.

?Can I help you??The voice seemed disinterested, and she wondered
whether she'd woken him. The more she looked, the more tired he seemed,
dark circles eating at those eyes that were still as blue as the ocean.

Oh, get a grip, girl, she chastised herself. The sight of a new man in
town and you've come over all Mills and Boon. She smiled and felt a
blush of embarrassment flushing her skin.

?Um, you probably don't remember me, but I'm Kelly Hollingsworth. I was
in your class at school? My dad was a policeman??She knew the words were
coming out too quickly, but she just wanted to get the job done and get
out of here. ?He asked me if I'd pop by, I don't want to disturb you or
anything ...?

Rob interrupted her, his face stretching into a grin of recognition.
?Kelly Hollingsworth! Yeah, I remember you! You were the really clever
kid who should have been in the nursery or something but instead had
been moved up about a million classes!??

Kelly shrugged, not sure what to make of his memory. ?Well, only two to
be precise. The reason I've called 'round is ...?

110

Rob had pulled the door wide. ?Come in, come in. God, you've changed a
bit, haven't you??Kelly presumed he was referring to her train-track
braces and puppy fat.

?Yes, well that's what happens when you grow up. Everything changes.?

Rob led her down the hallway, and he cast a searching glance back at
her. ?You think so? These days I'm not so sure. You'll have to excuse
the kitchen; it's a bit of a mess. I've been writing.? He laughed
slightly as if at a private joke. ?Well, thinking about writing.?

Now she was inside, Kelly was starting to feel awkward. Why hadn't she
just said what she had to say and gone? She felt trapped and didn't like it.

Holding the coffeepot in one hand, Rob turned to face her, leaning
against the sink, and she felt his eyes thoughtfully appraising her.
?Kelly Hollingsworth. God, time just disappears, doesn't it? How did we
get to be so old??

She smiled, and nodded at the offer of a coffee. ?Well, I hate to remind
you, but you've got two years on me. I'm still only thirty-five years
young.?

He raised an eyebrow as he emptied the jug of water into the top and
turned the machine on. ?Thank you so much for reminding me. So what
brought you around here??

Her eyes slid to the floor for a moment, having until then been doing
some appraising of her own, wondering what his body looked like under
that black long-sleeve t-shirt. God, she must be getting desperate. Or
maybe it was just that seeing him had allowed her a small trip down
memory lane to a time when she'd been all hormones with a head full of
unrealistic dreams. But whatever it was, all thoughts of sex were
dispelled when he asked the question.

She ran her hand through her hair, something she always did when trying
to broach an unpleasant subject, and then brought her eyes back to his.
?It's about CaroleAnne.?He looked as if he'd just been doused in cold

111

water, the skin on his face almost goose-pimpling with the shock.

?I know this whole thing must have been awful for you, but my father
thought you'd like to know that the police are releasing her body on
Monday morning. The funeral's been arranged for Tuesday afternoon.?

?Right. Right.?His voice was soft as he turned away and started filling
the mugs with steaming coffee. ?Thanks for telling me. I thought it
might be announced in the paper or something.? He moved to the fridge
for the milk and kept his eyes averted. He must be more upset than she'd
first thought.

?No. I don't think anyone wants too much publicity. You know. Press and
things like that.?God, this was hard. She shuffled slightly from foot to
foot, trying to ease away the tension in her body and the room.

?Of course. I wasn't thinking.?He looked up at her, and she wondered
what was going on behind those eyes. ?Do you take sugar??

She shook her head. ?Look, I can just go if you want. I know this is
awkward. You probably want to be on your own.?

There was a moment's pause before he spoke. ?No. I'd like you to stay. I
could use the conversation.?He was chewing his bottom lip, just like he
used to when they'd had tests at school. It made her smile. So he still
chewed his lip when he was thinking, just like she still flicked her
hair when she had to do something unappealing. She wondered whether he
even knew he did it. Probably not. Maybe they didn't change that much
when they grew up after all.

She took the mug. ?Well, if you're sure.?

He clinked his mug against hers. ?Yes, I'm sure, Kelly Hollingsworth.
Cheers.?He let out a long sigh, and then looked at her sideways. ?Is it
still Hollingsworth? Or has some lucky man dragged you down the aisle??

She laughed aloud. ?No, it's still Hollingsworth.

112

Although I do have a daughter. Tabitha. She's four. Four and
fantastic.?The coffee burned as she swallowed, and she wondered why
she'd brought Tabby up so quickly. Was she trying to put him off? As if
he were even interested.

He wasn't fazed though, just curious. ?So what happened with her dad?
Divorce??

The frankness of his question made her answer more honestly than she
normally would. ?Well, since you ask, he'd already dragged another girl
down the aisle long before I met him. Stupid, huh??

This time it was his turn to look embarrassed. ?Sorry, I shouldn't have
asked. It's the writer in me. Makes me too damned nosy for my own good.?

Kelly shook her head. ?It's okay. It doesn't matter.?And for the first
time in a long time, she realized she meant it. ?What about you??

He threw his head back and laughed, whatever weight he seemed to be
carrying momentarily forgotten. When he looked at her, his eyes were
full of soft humor. ?Don't you read the gossip columns??

She shook her head.

?Well, you've got a long way to go if you want to start competing with
me in the 'stupid relationship' stakes. I'm the king of the meaningless
fling.?

She smiled, despite the alarm that rang in her head with those two
words. At least he was honest, and that made a change. ?That bad, huh??

He shrugged, his face a little more serious. ?Yeah, I think I am, or
was. Too much success can do that to a person. Too much success, too
much cocaine and not enough people prepared to put you in your place can
turn you into an arsehole in no time at all, you can trust me on that
one. And the London scene isn't exactly the place to go looking for a
meaningful relationship.?

?Especially if you're not looking for one.?Her smile was wry and Rob lit
a cigarette.

113

?Ooh, that hurt. I'd forgotten about that-brain of yours. What are you
doing with it these days anyway? Running Microsoft or something??

That was the strange thing about intelligence. People always expected
you to do something grand with it. All the careers advisers at her
university had thought so anyway. It was as if what she wanted or cared
about didn't matter. Her brain was everything.

?I'm a teacher. Back at Roecliffe.?She shrugged apologetically and hated
herself for it.

He was looking at her with that assessing gaze again, and she found that
she quite liked it.

After a couple of moments, he nodded slowly. ?I bet you're a great
teacher.?Her face clouded over as she thought of Darren and Lee and poor
damaged Sharnice.

?Well. Maybe not as great as I thought. Those kids involved in the rape
case were in my class. I should have noticed something was up with them,
but I didn't. I keep thinking I could have stopped that if I'd just paid
more attention.? She sighed. ?So a teacher I may be, but I wouldn't go
as far as to say a great one. Not by a long shot.?Somehow it felt easier
talking to him about this than it had to her father.

Rob was chewing his lip again, and his expression darkened momentarily.
?You know, there are some things that are just beyond our control,
however much we wish otherwise. You couldn't have helped those kids. I
don't think anyone could.?

For a few seconds he seemed to drift off into his own thoughts, before
he brought his attention back to her, the darkness around him lifting
again. Just what was bothering him? She wished she knew him well enough
to ask. Maybe she would, but not today. Not now.

Putting her cup down on the breakfast bar, she straightened up, pushing
herself away from the tall built-in cupboard she'd been leaning on. It
was time to get back to

114

her weekend. Tabby had gone swimming with one of the girls from nursery,
but she'd be home soon and probably starving. ?I'd better get going,
I've got some shopping to do. Thanks for the coffee. It was nice seeing
you.?

He nodded. ?Likewise. And thanks for the news on the funeral. I really
appreciate it.?

He led her to the front door, but paused as he reached for the knob. His
voice was hesitant. ?Look, this is probably a crap idea, but I was
wondering if maybe you'd like to go out for a drink or something??He
seemed to be struggling for the right words. ?I'd like to see you again.?

Trying to stop her heart from thumping, she met his eyes warily. ?I'd
like that. But just as friends. I'm not in the market for a meaningless
fling. Okay??The words sounded harder than she'd meant them to, and it
was his turn to look flushed and embarrassed. She thought she could see
hurt in there, too. Maybe she had been a little harsh. Pulling the door
open herself, she reached up and pecked him on the cheek. ?You can pick
me up at seven tomorrow if you like. Number seven, Horsefair Green. It's
been nice seeing you again, Robert Black.? Not waiting for his response,
she shut the door behind her, a smile on her face. Not bad for a girl so
out of practice, she thought as she headed home. Not bad at all.

115

115 116

116 117

117 118

118 119

By midnight most evenings, Streatford is a desolate place; last orders
been and gone, all those late-night drinkers whiling away their
loneliness, having meandered their way through the chill to the comfort
of their own homes, hurried out by weary publicans eager for their beds.
Silence rules the darkness, smothering it into submission; the last car
having made its way along the winding, narrow streets like a predatory
shark patrolling the almost black of the ocean bed, disappearing into
the night half an hour past.

The tarmac and the pavements relax, no weight of passengers left for
them to bear, apart from perhaps solitary foxes and not-so-domestic cats
seeking adventure in the world that has been abandoned for a while. By
midnight in Streatford, everyone has gotten where they're going; there
will be no more traveling of the human kind until the sun rises and
brings a new day masked in the safety of the light.

It seems that the houses lining the centuries-trodden roads, those
buildings both old and new, loved and

120

unloved, slump forward and doze like dogs sleeping with one eye open,
careful not to disturb their occupants, as they lean on each other for
support, surrendering themselves to the memory of so many times gone by.

The trees whisper in sympathy, their branches aching for children long
since grown up, their former presence marked only by words carved in the
bark with giggles and penknives. The childish laughter aches in the sap
of the oak and the apple and with each bellow of wind, they call out the
names they bear on their ageless bodies, silently appealing to be
remembered, but knowing that none will return. No memories will be relived.

In the stillness of the night, they take comfort from the knowledge that
new children will come, new families to be loved. People come and people
go, time different for them than for the bricks and the wood. But people
there always will be, there always have been. And they will care for
them. All of them.

By one o'clock, the town has settled into its slumber, content with its
lot, a happy community, secure in its place.

Just one house, a forgotten place aching with need, dreams loudly in the
night. It wants to be remembered, needs to be remembered. Its hurt makes
it angry, and its dreams will be heard.

121

By three o'clock in the morning, Judge Matthews's house looked as if
winter were arriving from the inside out, the white powder having
settled like a dusting of snow resting comfortably as it covered the
carpets and furniture, creating a strange, white landscape, foreign and
unnatural. Empty tubular cartons carrying various brand names were
tossed carelessly about the living room, their loads dispatched, the
thick cardboard shells no longer required.

In the kitchen, the fridge door stood open, no cargo left to chill, the
cupboards also bare save for the powder that covered every corner of the
house like overgrowing moss.

Ernest Matthews stood by the patio door in his gray underpants, whose
baggy form clung precariously to hip bones that threatened to tear
through the thin layer of tired skin. Staring out through the glass, his
bloodshot eyes didn't waver as he scratched furiously at the red,
irritated blotches that covered his body. There were lights blazing at
Syracousse. Not that it was possible of course, but there they were, and
he had a feeling they were shining out just for him. Just so he'd get
the message. His skin

122

burned from where he'd rubbed the ant powder in, but that couldn't be
helped, precautions had to be taken. His mouth moved constantly,
unconsciously, words forming silently, unheard.

He hadn't bought the ant powder at O'Neale's. He'd tried of course, but
he'd read the young man's thoughts straight from his face, the minute
he'd asked. CaroleAnne Bradley, that's what had run through his mind.
Carole-Anne Bradley. So instead of waiting for a reply, Ernest had just
scurried out of the shop. Young O'Neale hadn't called him Your Honor
either as he'd stared, uncertain of quite what to do. In fact, he hadn't
called him anything at all. Ernest Matthews's life was slipping away
from him--being torn away from him--in more ways than one.

In the end he'd walked to Dulverton, to less cautious shopkeepers, to
fetch his necessary supplies. His slippers had been worn through when
he'd got back, his soles bleeding into the pavement beneath him, as he
slammed the door shut behind him, wary of Daisy's concerned observation
from behind her spotless lace curtains. He had begun to hate Daisy. Hate
her for the proximity of her normalness. Everything on her side of the
wall was just fine. Syracousse had no business with her.

From the corner of his eye, he saw something black running down the
curtain. He remained still, his mouth moving, twitching into an echo of
a smile. His mind was suffering a moment of clarity. So the ants were
still here, nestling in the nooks and crannies above him, safe from the
deadliness below. He wasn't really surprised. Nothing surprised him
anymore, and his tired, crazed body was unaware of the tear that
trickled down his cheek, free to run the length of his emaciated body
before its own life wore out, vanishing to nothing at the end of its
tiny trail, somewhere midway down his chest.

The single black insect he had glimpsed had disappeared to the floor and
was now followed by a steady

123

stream, heading back to the carpet, no longer afraid of the poison he'd
laid there. Deep inside, he felt no shock. He hadn't really expected it
to kill them. After all, it was just the last effort of a desperate man.
This morning, as he'd stood in his garden relieving himself, he could
have sworn he saw flecks of black in his urine. Flecks of wriggling
black that scurried away when they hit the grass. Scurried back to the
house. Was it his house or their house? It was so hard to tell, but he
had a sneaking suspicion that they knew the answer.

The lights were flashing on and off at the house farther down by the
river, and he wondered whether anyone else could see them. Probably not.
It looked like someone was having a party in there, but he knew better.
The old Judge Matthews, the one from a week ago, would have been
indignantly dialing the local police. Trespassing was against the law,
whether the house was occupied or not. The law was his special subject;
it was what he'd lived his life by, proud of it, secure because of his
knowledge of it. But this Judge Matthews was different. This Judge
Matthews knew that should the police arrive at Syracousse, they would
find it locked up and silent, mocking him with its darkness. And he
didn't know quite what to make of that. He thought maybe he was being
judged by a new law, a law he didn't understand for an unknown crime
committed in a life gone by.

He chuckled as he stared, drool escaping his mouth, his false teeth long
since abandoned--who knew what was nesting in the gums?--appearances no
longer an issue. ?The lights are on but there's nobody home,?isn't that
what the youngsters say these days?

He was aware of a tickling sensation as his housemates ran across his
feet, reclaiming their territory. He didn't look down, couldn't bear to
look down. His chuckle turned to a sob. What had he done to deserve
this? What? Behind him, the ants were moving madly across the carpet and
furniture, some in a mass, some as individuals,

124

stirring up the powder, lifting it into the air with their tiny, frantic
motions. Ernest Matthews didn't notice, his mind elsewhere, drifting
into the past, into the courtroom, searching for answers.

?Camilla Grace, this court finds you not guilty of the murder of your
husband, Philip Grace, on the grounds of diminished responsibility.
However, in view of the evaluation report presented to me, you are to be
committed to a secure psychiatric hospital until such time as you are
deemed fit for release.?

As the dust rose higher and higher, a cough started in his chest and his
nose tickled, while in his mind the image of the woman, rocking
backwards and forwards, eyes glazed from drugs or madness, he didn't
know which, blurred and was replaced with a younger face, eyes wide with
guilt, and he could almost feel the young hand on his arm, as she
pleaded with him, the small voice calm and low. It was the day after,
when her uncle and aunt had arrived to take her away. They had been in
his office, finalizing arrangements for her, and he was standing at the
oak door, its weight indicative of his importance, giving his
condolences, when she clutched at him, tiny and almost forgotten in the
midst of all this mess.

?It wasn't her, Your Honor, it wasn't her. It was me. I did it. I did it
from the garden.?

He had stroked her head and told her not to blame herself. The police
knew what had happened. There was nothing she could have done. Her
mother was sick. The doctors would look after her until the trial. The
little girl's eyes had burned into him.

?But it was me,?she whispered, and the three adults exchanged a look of
sympathy. What a terrible ordeal. This kind of thing just didn't happen
in a town like Streatford.

A cough exploded from inside him, and the shock of it brought him back
to the insanity of the present, his eyes widening as he looked with
shock at the powdery fog that

125

surrounded him. What had they done? What were they doing? For the first
time since they'd started, he noticed the manic activity of the ants,
whirling up a dust storm in his living room. He squinted to try and stop
his eyes stinging as the tiny grains attacked him. The cough wouldn't
stop, and with each sucked in breath, his throat became more irritated.

Hunched over, his hand over his mouth,, he staggered, choking, to the
kitchen sink. Water, that's what he needed. Water. A glass of water and
he'd be fine. He turned the tap, but nothing came out, no water, no
ants, no nothing. The muscles in his stomach were straining, and his
tongue ached as his coughing became more desperate. Stumbling toward the
patio doors, he ignored the tears that streamed down his cheeks as the
small blood vessels in his eyeballs burst with effort.

It was getting more difficult to catch his breath between the coughs,
and he could feel his panic rising as he clutched at the small lever
that locked the patio door. A small part of his mind tried to stay calm
as his fingers trembled, his body shaking as he tried in vain to stop
the convulsions of choking. Push it down, that's all you have to do and
you'll be out in the clear, fresh air. Just push it down.

But the lever wouldn't go down. He could feel it pushing upward against
him, and every time he pressed harder, the resistance got stronger. His
tears were real now as his energy drained from him and he sank to the
carpet. The world was starting to go black, and there was an awful pain
starting in the side of his head. He banged weakly on the glass,
terrified and frustrated.

At least let me understand! At least give me that! he pleaded inside, to
himself, to the ants, to Syracousse as he gazed out at the unforgiving
night. I don't understand. I can't die without knowing why, tell me why,
damn you to hell, tell me why!

For a blissful moment, the coughing stopped, his chest suddenly soothed,
and he closed his eyes, sobbing with

126

relief, the tears and snot mixing in the wrinkled contours of his
skeletal face. Oh thank God, Oh thank God, Oh thank Go ...

The blood vessel that had served its master silent and faithful for so
many years burst more dramatically than its tiny size would lead anyone
to expect, flooding his brain with the blood it carried. For the split
second it lasted, the pain was more than anything Judge Matthews had
believed was possible. By the time his eyelids had flown open with the
shock, the life had left his eyes. He was dead in an instant.

127

1

Tabby had been in bed half an hour by the time her mum came to kiss her
goodnight. Her perfume smelled warm and sweet as she sat on the bed and
leaned forward. Her voice was soft. ?I know you're awake. I can see your
eyelids fluttering.?

Giggling, Tabby opened her eyes. Her mum looked different than normal,
even in the pale glow of the nightlight. She wasn't wearing her jeans
and t-shirt for one thing, nor her teacher clothes. Instead, she had on
a black top and trousers Tabby hadn't seen before. She'd done something
funny with her hair, too. She pondered on it for a moment before
speaking. ?You look really pretty, Mummy.?Her mum smiled back, and Tabby
realized she looked more than pretty, she looked beautiful.

?Thank you. Not as pretty as you, princess, but I try my best.?She
stroked Tabby's hair, and the little girl sighed.

?Who are you going out with??She liked the feel of the hand running
gently over her head.

?Just a friend.?

?A man friend or a woman friend??

128

Her mother laughed as if she'd said something funny. ?A man friend. But
just a friend, okay??

The pillow rustling in her ears like crunching snow, she nodded, not
really sure what she was agreeing with, but wanting to please her mum.
Her mummy just didn't go out with male friends and something about it
made her feel funny inside. And she wasn't sure if it was a good funny
or a bad funny. It was a weird funny. Her mother leaned forward and they
exchanged kisses as Tabby breathed in that comforting smell, a mixture
of mother and perfume and makeup, the smell that let her know everything
was well in the world, and that nothing bad could happen no matter how
many shadows she saw in her room at night.

The bed creaked as the weight of its extra occupant lifted. ?I'll look
in on you when I get back. I won't be late.?

?Not on a school night!?Tabby chirped from behind her duvet. Her mother
laughed a little at their old joke.

?Nope. No parties for us girls on a school night!?She pulled the door so
that it was almost shut, before peering her head through the gap. ?I
love you, princess.?

?I love you too, Mummy.?And then she was gone.

Tabby yawned, and snuggled down in her bed, feeling sleep calling for
her. She wondered whether she'd dream of her special house again
tonight, feeling a shiver of childish anticipation. She was glad she'd
left her painting of it downstairs, even though at first she'd wanted to
put it on the wall in her room where she could look at it on her own.
Savor it. She hadn't painted it well enough, though, not by a long shot,
and now when she looked at it she just felt frustrated with herself. It
did look kind of like the house, but not like it was in her dreams, just
a clumsy copy. She couldn't have painted it like it really was, no one
could. Even the best painter in the world would fail at that. She let
out a long sleepy yawn of contentment and allowed herself to drift off
into the unchartered sea of

129

sleep. It wasn't long before the dream called for her. It called, and
she happily answered.

She was lying on a rug in the garden, the wool tickling her belly where
her t-shirt had ridden up, her legs enjoying the warm breeze as she
wiggled them to and fro behind her. Up on her elbows, she was still
close enough to the grass to see a ladybug that perched at the tip of a
blade, its red and black wings standing out against the deep green. She
watched it, fascinated, wondering how something could be so light, or
maybe it was the grass that was strong. So much to learn, so much to
know. She took a long sip from the cool glass of lemonade beside her. It
wasn't like the lemonade her mummy got from Budgen's. This one was all
musty-colored and sharper, making her teeth feel strange with the mix of
bitter and sweet. She liked it. She liked everything here.

She looked at the ladybug again, and as if it sensed her curiosity, it
opened up its wings and disappeared from sight. Maybe when she was a
grownup she'd understand about bugs and grass and wings. The voice that
wasn't a voice, her invisible house friend, as she thought of it, smiled
in her head. She liked the feel of it tingling in her skull. It made her
feel safe and warm. ?When I grow up I'm going to be a pleaseman 'cos
they know all kinds of stuff. I'm going to be a pleaseman like my
granddad.?She thought her friend would like that, but a shiver danced
over her. She shook her head, trying to rattle the feeling away.
Confused, she sat up in the sunshine and tilted her head. ?What's the
matter??

For a few seconds there was nothing, and she thought for a horrible
moment that she'd said something terrible and her friend had gone away
forever, and then the glow within her started again. The dreamy music
that played inside somehow made perfect sense. Perfect word sense.

Your granddad is a bad man.

Her hand unconsciously went up to her hair, twirling a strand of her
sleep-disturbed curls between her fingers. In

130

a few moments she'd probably be sucking it. ?No, not my granddad. He was
a pleaseman. He's brave and kind,? she said, adamantly, as if correcting
a stupid mistake. She felt the voice caressing her, comforting her, and
she released the hair.

He has a secret. A guilty, shameful secret. A secret from you and your
mummy. He has created a house of lies. You live in a house of lies.
Remember that.

Tabby shook her head, not liking this disturbed feeling that invaded her
special place. Nothing should feel bad here. Nothing.

Ask him.

The little girl stood up and dusted down her clothes, brushing away the
bad thoughts until later, as children so often did. ?Will you push the
swing for me now??

The tune lilted behind her eyes, and she knew that everything was okay
again; everything was back to normal. She held on to the chains on each
side of the wooden seat, no rust there to stain her hands, and waited
for the air to lift her to the sky.

Normally, when she played at school, she didn't like to swing too high,
because even though Miss Parkinson said it was special soft ground, it
still looked pretty hard to her. But here it was different. Here she
swung so high she thought she was flying, just like that ladybug had.
But then, here she knew she was safe. Nothing bad could ever happen
here. Her friend had told her that. It was a promise.

?I wish I could find it here when I'm awake.?Her laughter spoke for her,
and the voice understood.

Soon.

131

Rob crossed the road to the small side street leading to Horsefair
green, enjoying the cool, crisp air that circulated in his lungs. He
wasn't sure he should be doing this, and despite the thousands of dates
he'd been on over the past few years, his stomach twitched with nerves.
He tried to ignore it. It wasn't a date anyway, not really.

His tan suede jacket wasn't doing much to keep out the chill--if it
isn't a date, then why the hell didn't you put on something warmer?--and
he pushed his hands further into the pockets of his soft, brown Calvin
Klein jeans. Well, whatever it was, it would be nice to spend the
evening with an intelligent woman for a change, and he could sure as
hell use the company. The house, which at first had seemed like a
sanctuary, had become unsettling, memories threatening him from the
corner of his eye and when he turned to face them, they'd gone,
disappearing like shy ghosts that know they have no right to be there
anymore. He sighed. Wasn't that what he'd come home for anyway? To
exorcise some ghosts? Hah. Maybe he was getting more than he'd bargained
for.

132 This afternoon he'd dozed off and dreamed of Gina. Dreamed of the
time she'd kissed him--his first kiss, and boy what a place to
start--and Jason had seen them and not talked to him all the way home.
Another crack in the fragile walls of childhood friendship. But this
time, in the dream, it was different. It was as if he was really seeing
what had happened for the first time, watching from the outside, looking
at the clumsy almost teenager, so smitten with this fascinating girl who
was pressing her soft lips onto his and not believing he could be so
lucky. Oblivious to the world outside, the world away from his lips and
tongue, from her lips and tongue, which were sending shivers all over
his body. This time he could see the way her eyes darted quickly to the
kitchen window--checking to see whether Jason was there, whether Jason
was watching--before she reached up for his face.

He'd woken up with a bitter taste in his mouth, for a moment no longer
sure where he was in space and time. Was it real or wasn't it? And did
it really matter now?

Squinting a little in the gloom, he checked the numbers on the wooden
front doors that opened straight onto the uneven pavement. Still a few
more to go before he got to Kelly's. It was emotional overload that was
making him feel so edgy. That's all it was. Nothing weird was going on
in Streatford; he'd convinced himself of that over the past couple of
days. The past was done and dusted. So what about that terrible rape up
at the house? And what about Carrie's message? Maybe she'd just gone
crazy at the end. Shit, she'd have to have been crazy to do what she
did. Sure, this stuff was unsettling, but only because of the memories
it dredged up. Nothing more. And memory was a fickle friend. Maybe
nothing strange had ever happened here at all. Children had vivid
imaginations.

Finally, he found himself standing at the right house, soft light
escaping from the closed curtains. He rang the bell, suddenly looking
forward to getting the evening underway. He needed a distraction,
contact with reality, and

133

there was something about Kelly's serious, calm intelligence that
attracted him. And she hadn't grown up to be bad-looking either.

She'd looked pretty good in the dim streetlights, but it wasn't until
they stepped into the warm yellow glow of The Plough that he realized
just how attractive she really was. Like him, she'd gone for the
not-quite-date look, but the top and trousers fitted her perfectly,
outlining her natural curves, and their blackness only enhanced the
luminescence of her pale skin. She'd piled her hair up on her head, so
loose strands were falling down the side of her face. Watching her as
she took her seat at the table by the fire, carefully putting her gin
and tonic down on a bar mat, he realized what was so refreshing about
her. She was the first woman he'd met in a long time who was totally
unaware of how stunning she actually was. He sat down opposite her and
took a sip of his beer before speaking. ?So who's babysitting that
little girl of yours tonight??

She smiled. ?My dad. He's lived with us since my mum died two years ago.
It's a perfect arrangement. Tabby's enough to keep us both busy and the
extra pair of hands is a godsend.?Her eyes softened. ?I think looking
after us stops him from missing my mother so much. It must be strange to
have someone around you for so many years and suddenly they're not there
anymore. I think he's a bit lost without her. I know I was for a while,
and I still miss her.?She raised an eyebrow at him, as if waiting for
him to make a joke. ?I know it must sound funny coming from someone my
age, but I guess there's never enough time to say everything you want
to, is there??

Rob smiled, his heart tugging at him with memories of his own parents.
He was speaking before he realized it. ?I understand you perfectly. I
wish now that I'd seen my mum more before she died, and I'm still not
sure why I didn't. I think that after all that stuff with my dad and
then going to boarding school we just drifted apart. It

134

seems stupid now.?He'd told her more of the truth than he'd ever told
any other girl, but even that wasn't the whole story. How could he
explain his need to stay away from Streatford? He couldn't even explain
it to himself.

There was a moment of strangely comfortable silence before his eyes met
Kelly's thoughtful gaze as she spoke. ?It must have been tough on you
when your father got ill. Especially in those days when people didn't
understand.?

He almost laughed out loud at the words. Your father got ill. That was
an understated way of putting it if ever there was one. For a moment his
head was filled with the sight and smell of that mountain of food,
maggots and flies.

?Yeah, it was.?He pushed the image away and concentrated on the far more
attractive one in front of him. ?So what about you? Do you enjoy
teaching? Most people would say it was a vocation rather than a job. Do
you feel that way about it??

She grinned. The first real one he'd seen all evening, and he was glad
she was relaxing despite the seriousness of their conversation so far.
Somehow, he wasn't surprised by that. He had a feeling that with Kelly,
what you saw was what you got. She wasn't the type of woman for playing
games. So just don't fuck it up, Black, he told himself. If you know
what's good for you, you won't piss this one up the wall.

She rolled the tall glass around between her hands, wiping away the
condensation. ?Yeah, I guess I do. The workload can be a pain, but every
day brings something new. You couldn't describe it as a dull job. And a
school is somewhere that you can really make a difference to people.
Corny, huh??

He held his hands up as if in surrender. ?Hey, I think it sounds great.
I'd love to be able to make someone's life better with what I do. It's a
great gift you've got.?

She shook her head, her face serious again. ?Writers do make people's
lives better. A good book can change the

135

way people think about the world and themselves. At least being a
writer, you don't have to face your failures close up. That's the tough
bit about teaching. The holidays are great, but when stuff like this
rape comes up, terrible things involving kids you know, then you wonder
if you're letting down more than you're lifting up.?

Rob reached across the table and took her hand. ?That wasn't your fault,
you know. That was just one of those awful things that happen.?

Chewing the inside of her lip, Kelly nodded. ?Yeah, I know that now.
Apparently the kids didn't even know they were going to do it until it
happened. They tried to kill themselves afterwards. God, what had they
been thinking?? Her voice had lowered in the relative quiet of the bar,
and she left her hand in his as she talked. ?The whole thing has
something weird about it.?

She looked at him as if deciding whether he could be trusted or not.
This time her voice was almost a whisper. ?The boys told the police that
the house was unlocked, but it couldn't have been. The keys were with
the solicitors, and when the police went to check the scene out, all the
doors were locked. How strange is that??

Rob felt his heartbeat quickening, and wondered whether his palm was
sweating into hers. Curious things happening at Syracousse. ?Pretty
strange, but I bet there's a logical explanation for it. There always
is.?His voice sounded calm and reassuring, as inside, his mind turned
somersaults. He didn't need to be hearing this, he really didn't.

Kelly blushed slightly. ?Yeah, I'm sure you're right. There's probably a
good explanation for the lights, too.?

Not wanting to know the answer, Rob heard himself asking, ?What happened
with the lights??

?Well, this is going to sound really silly, but the kids said they'd
turned one of the lights on in the house. But they couldn't have. The
electricity was cut off ages ago. Freaky, huh??

136

His head was starting to hurt, but he forced a smile after taking
several long gulps of the beer. ?Like I said, they'll find an
explanation. Just remember crop circles. There's always a rational
explanation for everything.? Dear God, let them change the conversation now.

It seemed that Kelly felt the same way, as she almost visibly shook away
her mood. ?Yes. I'm sure you're right, although I'm a bit disappointed
in your lack of imagination. Are you sure you wrote your books??

He pulled his hand away and pretended to cuff her around the head with
horror. ?My dear, you go too far.?His voice was pure Basil Rathbone, and
she giggled happily.

They were on their third drink, deep in a comfortable conversation about
a mutual love for fiction, when Jason came in. Finally relaxed and at
ease, all thoughts of Syracousse pushed to the furthest corner of his
mind, Rob didn't see him until the shadow falling across their table
made them both look up. The woman standing behind Jason's slim frame had
probably once been very pretty underneath all that over-bleached hair
and lipstick. Jason didn't introduce her as Rob and Kelly politely
nodded hello. He didn't acknowledge Kelly either, but instead leaned
down on the table, blocking Rob's view of his date.

?I agree.?His voice was clipped and curt, not inviting conversation. ?We
need to talk. I'll see you on Tuesday. We can talk after.?Barely waiting
for Rob's agreement, he left them and went to the bar to order a drink.

Watching him walk away, the unnamed woman behind him, Rob couldn't help
wondering whether they were both seeking distractions. Both out, both
with women. Maybe they were still more similar than they were willing to
admit. Jason finally ordered his date a drink almost as an afterthought.
She didn't seem to mind, though, as she stood there staring at him
adoringly. She looked like someone who for years had admired from afar
and then finally got her chance and couldn't believe it. He wondered
whether Jason even noticed the way she was looking at

137

him. Probably not. But then, Jason was another person who had never
realized how good-looking he was. Jase had never really known his own
goodness. Rob's heart ached for his long ago friend.

This time it was Kelly's hand that reached for his. ?What happened to
you guys? You two used to be so tight.?

For a moment Rob was shaken, forgetting that Kelly had been there, an
observer on the sidelines of his childhood. It felt strange. With
everything that had gone on all that time ago, it had been easy to
believe that no one else really existed. They'd been so caught up with
what was happening around the four of them, the rest of the world had
just been a gray, unimportant fog.

He frowned into his beer. ?Just grew up I guess.?

Kelly was gazing thoughtfully at the figure at the bar, shaking her head
slightly. ?It was weird. I wasn't the only one who noticed. You three
were so close, and then Gina came along and by the start of the next
school year, none of you wanted anything to do with each other.?

Rob's blood rushed defensively to his face. ?Yeah, well. That was a hell
of a way to end a summer.?His features drew in on themselves, and he
tried to relax them as he shrugged. Don't take it out on her, Black, he
counseled himself, but still the words came out barbed with sarcasm.
?Then I went off to boarding school, and Gina left town never to be
heard of again. I guess when your friend's mum stabs her dad to death it
can change things. Life's funny like that.?Especially when you were
there, especially after Teacher, he wanted to add, but bit hard on his
tongue to stop himself. Some secrets shouldn't be shared. Not after so
much time.

His harsh tone seemed to run off Kelly, or perhaps she, was too busy
thinking to notice it. ?I guess I just thought that something like that
would have made your friendship stronger. Not with Gina; she wasn't like
you three were, you three had been close forever. No one ever saw you

138

when you came home on school holidays. The boys all thought you'd turned
into a bit of a snob or something. I didn't, though. I'd seen how Jason
and Carrie ignored each other and figured you'd all had some kind of
huge row.?

Rob raised an eyebrow. ?I guess you could call it that.?He drained his
pint. ?Anyway, to be honest I don't really remember, so can we change
the subject now??

Kelly smiled, and the innocence in her gentle face almost made him weep.

By the time they left at quarter to ten it was obvious that Jason was
drunk, leaning precariously on the bar, laughing with the woman whose
happy glow had revitalized a little of what beauty she must once have
had. As Rob held the door open for Kelly, he wondered whether anyone
else could hear the desperation in that over-loud sound. He pulled the
door closed, embracing the cold air. He could think about Jason later.
Jason was for Tuesday, not for now.

Kelly slid her arm through his, an action that surprised him, but caused
a warm glow to run through his body, as they crossed the road for the
short walk back to her house. It was only minutes before they were
standing on her doorstep. They grinned at each other like a pair of
teenagers. It was Kelly who broke the silence. ?Thank you for a lovely
evening. I really enjoyed it.?

Rob gave a small bow. ?I aim to please. Anyway, it was great having
someone intelligent to talk to. Intelligent and beautiful isn't a
combination I've come across much recently.? He watched her face for a
moment before speaking, softly this time. ?So are you going to say
goodnight and get into the warm, or am I allowed to kiss you first??

Her small smile gave him his answer, and he moved forward, taking her
face in his hands, kissing her gently and slowly, enjoying the feel of
her warm body so close to his. He could feel himself becoming aroused,
and no doubt she could too, but he resisted the urge to kiss her harder

139

and pull her closer, instead, gently breaking away. This wasn't a
situation he wanted to rush, and he had a feeling that if he pushed too
hard, she'd run away and that was something he definitely didn't want.
From what little he knew of her, he'd bet that Kelly Hollingsworth had
had her fair share of shit from men.

Looking at her standing there on the doorstep, flushed and uncertain, he
suddenly felt as if maybe spending the whole of your life with just one
woman could be a pleasant possibility. The thought terrified and excited
him. Not wanting to spoil the magical moment with unnecessary words or
bad timing, he took a step backwards. ?You get back in the warm. Will I
see you on Tuesday? Are you going to the funeral??

Kelly nodded. ?I'll be there. It'll be the most original second date
I've ever had.?

Rob laughed and started walking away. ?Well, you can't say I don't know
how to show a girl a good time!?He heard her laugh just before the door
shutting silenced the sound. He was still smiling as he strolled up
Dulverton Road toward his own house. She'd said second date. And that
couldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something good was going to emerge out of
coming home, after all.

Kelly left her shoes downstairs and padded upstairs in her bare feet,
not wanting to wake her father. It was only just gone ten so he probably
wasn't quite asleep yet, but she didn't want to take any chances. Tabby
got them up early in the mornings and after a whole weekend of her, Jack
was normally pretty exhausted. She'd be tired herself if her mind wasn't
racing with the memory of that kiss. It had been quite a while since her
last one, but if memory served her correctly, Rob Black's effort had to
be pretty high on the list of best kisses ever. Still, she warned her
racing heart, he's had enough practice.

Quietly pushing open Tabby's door, she stepped into the pale, almost
green glow of the small nightlight and sat

140

down on her daughter's bed. ?Goodnight, baby,?she whispered, not
expecting a reply.

Tabby's eyes blearily opened, still half asleep. ?What's Granddad's
secret??she mumbled. ?Why does he have a secret from us??Her serious,
sleep-scrunched face looked at Kelly for a moment before her eyes closed
again, sinking her back to oblivion with a tiny sigh.

Kelly watched her daughter for a few seconds, making sure she'd drifted
off again, before standing up. What a curious thing to have said. Maybe
she'd been having a bad dream or something. Children's minds were such
funny things. Carefully closing the door behind her, Kelly made her way
to her own room and peeled off her clothes in the dark, before tumbling
into bed.

141

By Monday morning, the chill in the previous night's dark air had
settled on the ground as a hard frost, and by eight forty-five it still
wasn't showing any signs of melting away into the bright sunlight.

Standing outside Judge Matthews's house, watching the locksmith work,
Jason stamped his feet a little to ward away numbness as the cold worked
its way through the canvas of his sneakers. He sniffed and watched his
breath vanish in front of him. Christ, it was cold. Okay, so it was
nearly November, but this kind of freezing weather was normally reserved
for mid-January. The tops of his ears ached, which at least distracted
him from the pain of his hangover, although the drilling wasn't helping.

After setting the shop up, he'd taken five minutes to go up to the
Health Center and see what Social Services was going to do about the
judge. The memory of their encounter had unsettled him for the whole
weekend, and he wasn't sure whether he was checking for his own peace of
mind or out of concern for the crazy old guy, but

142

whichever it was, he needed to know if the situation had been resolved.

Well, surprise, surprise, it turned out that Bob hadn't bothered going
there at all. He must have just gone off to vent his steam somewhere,
probably over a pint of cider. Standing in the surgery, telling the
overworked doctor that he'd go and check on Mr. Matthews himself and
then call the authorities, Jason had cursed his ape of a workmate for
being the selfish, ignorant fuck that he was, before realizing, with a
sense of relief, that at least they were even now. Old man Green
wouldn't like to hear about this. He was old enough to have plenty of
respect for the elderly, especially a man like the judge. He'd kick
Bob's fat arse from here to Old Streatford if he got wind of this fuckup.

The door of the adjacent house swung open, and Daisy emerged with two
steaming mugs of tea. Jason took one gratefully, his red hands for a
moment in pain with the shock of sudden contact with heat, before the
warmth started to seep through. He saw Daisy glance at his scars, but it
didn't bother him. They didn't seem to bother her either as she turned
her gaze to the locksmith, her gloved hands clutching her drink, her
body wrapped up warm in a red, padded jacket.

?How much longer??Jason asked, as the man rifled through his tools.

?Nearly done now.?The man didn't look up, probably eager to finish up
and get back to the warmth of his van. Jason couldn't blame him.

Feeling Daisy's arm brush against his, he looked down and gave her a
small smile. She returned it, but Jason knew they weren't fooling each
other. Neither of them was keen to find out what had happened on the
other side of the lock. Daisy had come outside when she'd heard Jason
banging furiously on the door next to hers, and her face had been sad
then. She said that she hadn't seen Ernest-- it felt weird to hear
someone call the judge by his first

143

name--for days and had been thinking about calling Social Services
today. He hadn't been himself, she said, a phrase that endeared the old
lady to Jason instantly. He hadn't been himself. Oh no, he definitely
hadn't been himself. Jason had nodded and said that he'd seen Mr.
Matthews last week and was worried. They had looked at each other and
had a moment of complete understanding, before Daisy carried on.

He'd stopped answering the door to her, she had said, her eyes averted
so Jason couldn't see the hurt there. But she hadn't been too worried
because she'd heard him pottering around on the other side of the walls,
all hours of the day and night. But the past day or so, she'd heard
nothing, no matter how hard she tried. She was silent for a moment,
before shaking herself and declaring that they both needed a nice, sweet
cup of tea. Jason had just nodded, pleased that the tough old lady
hadn't sought any reassurances. He didn't have any to give.

He had just taken the last swallow from his mug when the locksmith
tapped the door open. ?There you go. It's all yours. That'll be thirty
quid please.?He looked at the two of them, and Jason realized with
rising embarrassment that he didn't have any money.

?Thank you.?Looking down at Daisy, he saw she'd pulled her purse from
her pocket and taken out three crisp ten-pound notes for the man who was
now stuffing them into his back pocket and gathering his tools.

Jason fought hard to swallow his shame. ?Look, I'll drop that money to
you this afternoon.?he started, before she shook her head firmly, her
face adamant. ?Ernest Matthews is my friend. You've done enough by
showing your concern. You're a very good young man, and I thank you for
that.? The sincerity and strength in her voice took Jason by surprise.
It had been a long time since someone had anything that nice to say
about him, and it choked him for a second. A very good young man.

144

He squeezed her arm. ?Some people may not agree with you on that one,
but thank you anyway.?

They both stared at the door that now stood ajar, waiting for someone to
enter, and Jason knew who that person should be. ?You stay here.?His own
voice was firm, and when he moved away, she didn't follow. Well, here
goes, he thought, as he gently pushed the door wide, his stomach filled
with trepidation, and for a moment, as he stepped into the glare of the
hallway, the lights bright above him, what he expected to see was an
enormous, stinking pyramid of food, life oozing from its edges.

But of course, that day was long past, and the first thing he noticed in
the judge's house, was the fine layer of dust that seemed to cover the
carpet and stairs in front of him. He frowned a little with distaste.
Jesus, how long would you have to leave your house for this much dirt to
accumulate?

Tilting his head up the stairway, he saw that all the lights were
blazing on the landing there, too. ?Judge Matthews??he called, his voice
sounding strange in the quiet. Maybe he'd slipped in the shower or
something. Unsure of whether to go up and look, he decided to check down
here first. There was something too personal about the upstairs of
strangers' houses. Even when he'd taken up burglary for that short
spell--Old Daisy wouldn't think you were such a good young man if she
knew about that, would she?--he'd always stayed downstairs. He guessed
it didn't feel so much like someone else's house and possessions that
way. Standing here now he wondered who he'd been trying to kid.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door to his left and went into the
long lounge. It obviously went around into an L-shape, no doubt there
was a kitchen there, hidden from view, but Jason figured he wasn't going
to have to look in there. He'd found what he was looking for. Oh boy,
had he found it. His legs carried him forward--just where the fuck had
all this dust come from--across the

145

full length of the sitting room, until he was standing a few feet away
from the patio doors. Outside, the perfectly manicured lawn waited for
its owner to come outside and tend to its needs. It was going to be
waiting an awfully long time, Jason thought absently, as his shocked
eyes drifted downwards to the figure at his feet. He shouldn't have died
like this. Not a man like he was. Jesus.

The emaciated body was curled up under the patio door, its knees pulled
up to the chin, the pale, stick-thin legs emerging from a pair of baggy
underpants. The face--he couldn't think of it as Judge Matthews's face--
was turned upwards, its grimace frozen forever in time, the eyes
completely red, like some kind of monster's eyes would be in a kid's
story. He must have burst every blood vessel in his eyeballs. Every
single last one. One thin arm was slumped over the head as if he'd been
reaching for the door when it happened. Jason took the handle and slid
the glass open a little. It was unlocked. So what had the old man been
trying to do? Though eager to be out in that cold, fresh, untainted air,
Jason reluctantly pulled the door shut again. His hands were shaking,
the numbness of his initial shock slowly wearing off. Looking down at
the body again, he saw that some of the grayness was caused by the dust,
which looked as if it had been rubbed into the skin. Underneath it,
Jason could see raw patches of irritation. Just why the hell would he
have rubbed dust into himself? What would make him do that?

With widening eyes, he looked at the house around him, at the dust that
covered every surface. This was too organized to be abandoned dirt. So
what the hell was it?

His own words flashed into his head, and his legs started to twitch
beneath him as he gazed around in disbelief.

Maybe I can help. I can come round with a friend and some ant powder and
give the house a good going over.

This wasn't dust. It was ant powder, and Jesus, he'd given the old man
the idea.

Syracousse. They're coming from Syracousse.

146

Fear and bile were rising in equal measure as Jason took a step
backwards, his eyes beginning to water. Syracousse. Guilt. Blame.
Secrets. Just what the fuck was going on here? A low, moan started deep
inside him.

?Oh, Christ.?

The clear, crisp voice behind him made Jason stumble backwards, banging
his hip painfully into the breakfast bar. The pain rattled exquisitely
through him, but he was glad of it. The relief of seeing Daisy there
behind him was enough to make him almost giggle. ?Jesus, you scared the
shit out of me!?

She glanced up at him, and then went back to staring at her dead friend.
?Sorry. I just couldn't wait out there any longer.? She let out a long
sigh, a sigh that told of the sadness behind that practical exterior,
and Jason wished he could have her grief, any amount of grief, if only
it meant a release from the terrible fear that was eating at him.

Daisy pushed her hands into her coat pocket. ?I'll go and phone an
ambulance. Will you wait with me??Jason nodded.

?Then come on then. This is no place for the living.?He followed her
out, glad to get away from the madness. He had someone he needed to
phone, too.

147

By the time he'd had a quick shower, it was ten o'clock. Rob turned on
his laptop and clicked the Word icon, before going to make himself a pot
of coffee. The kitchen was warm, and as he waited for the black liquid
to filter into the coffee pot, he stared through the window at the
frosty land outside. He smiled. There was something comforting about
winter weather, especially when you were on the inside looking out. He'd
slept in longer than usual, but his rest had been dreamless, and judging
by how refreshed he felt this morning, he must have needed it.

Something else was having a pretty major contribution to his upbeat
mood, and that was the kiss he'd shared with Kelly the night before. He
was feeling pretty good about that. Who was he kidding? She was the last
thing he'd thought about before he'd drifted off and the first thing
he'd thought about as he opened his eyes to the tranquillity of all that
whiteness upstairs. Even with all that shit she said about the rape; the
lights, the locked doors, all the stuff that had gotten hold of a quiet
place in

148

his mind and wasn't letting go, he still felt pretty damned great about
the evening.

Pouring himself a mug of Columbia's second favorite export, he was
grinning like a love-struck teenager, just enjoy it, Black. Enjoy it
while it lasts, because no doubt it won't be long before you fuck it up.
Anyway, I thought you weren't really in a position for any new
relationships. Raising an eyebrow at himself, knowing there was probably
truth in the thought, he moved back to the wooden table and sat down.
The book was slowly taking shape, and it was time to get down to some
serious graft. Anyway, switching off from the real world and getting
lost in one of his own making, was good for the soul. It was like
therapy without the bill.

Putting his coffee down, he brought his attention to the screen. Weird.
It was still blank, with only the small white cursor flashing in the top
left-hand corner awaiting instructions. Muttering in frustration, he
tried the Enter key, and then pressed the On button again. It shouldn't
have crashed; the sleek model was supposed to be top of the line. Well,
top of the line for six months ago anyway, which, he figured, meant by a
technofreak's standards it was now a granddaddy.

Staring in mounting annoyance at that tiny white flashing line, he got
up and shimmied along the wall to the outlet, where he flicked off the
switch. Still leaning over he waited for the sound of the machine
switching itself off, but the hum continued. Swearing, he yanked the
plug out completely. That should fucking do it. He hated any delay to
his work, and always feared that the pages he would have written without
any distraction would be so much better than the ones he finally got
down on the screen. Maybe Michael was right when he'd jokingly called
him anal.

Standing up straight he noticed that the hum was still there, and his
anger faded into confusion as he saw the white line still flashing
rebelliously against the black. Just

149

what the fuck was going on here? Glancing down by his feet, he checked
that he pulled out the right plug, and followed the disconnected cable
with his eyes until it vanished into the back of the IBM. Just what the
fuck was this? How could it still be on?

Sitting back down, he wondered whether there was a faulty connection and
somehow the computer had switched to battery. But if so, then where the
hell was the Windows screen? It didn't make sense.

Suddenly, the hum mounted into a high-pitched squeal, and just before
Rob expected to see smoke rising from the back, the screen burst into
action, the words appearing from nowhere as if someone were typing on
his keyboard faster than he could see.

MAKE HER COME HOME MAKE HER COME HOME MAKE HER COME HOME HOME HOME HOME
HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME HOME

The word was filling up the screen, getting faster and faster, too rapid
for his eyes to keep up with, and it was as if he could hear it
screaming in his head as each word appeared, defying the thought that
this was not real, this was not real, and then just before he thought it
was going to consume him, the coffee pot on the breakfast bar exploded,
sending the hot liquid and glass everywhere, splattering the table in
front of him, sending him backwards in his chair, banging his head hard
on the wall behind. And then there was silence.

Slowly sitting upright, his skull throbbing from the impact, he felt the
breath trapped in his chest and forced it out. Jesus Christ. Jesus
fucking Christ. Looking at the brown liquid that trickled between the
keys of the laptop, he noticed with dazed recognition that the computer
had finally turned itself off. He slammed the lid down with disgust,
before turning to gaze at the mess that was his kitchen. Coffee had hit
just about every cupboard and surface in the room, trickling down the
side of the fridge and

150

the stove. The floor glittered with tiny shards of glass. He laughed
slightly, a hollow sound. Just what the fuck was going on? What the fuck
was going on?

His heart pounded heavily in his chest as he stood up and went to the
coffee machine, his shoes crunching on the broken glass beneath them.
He'd just reached it when the phone began to ring, making him whirl
round, dangerously close to slipping on the wet floor. He stared at it
for a few seconds before carefully picking up the receiver. What now?
What the hell now? He didn't think he could take any more surreal
messages. Not now, not ever.

His voice was slow and cautious. ?Hello??

?Rob? Jason.?Exhilaration flooded through his body. Jason. It was Jason.
A real, live breathing person. Thank Christ. Thank Christ for that. His
relief was only momentary.

?It's Judge Matthews. He's dead. I found him this morning.?He paused,
maybe waiting for a response, but Rob wasn't capable of giving one and
Jason continued, ?I saw him last week, and he said some stuff to me.
Stuff about the house, about the four of us. Stuff he couldn't know.?He
let out a sigh, a sigh that echoed Rob's own fear. ?I think we need to
talk. We need to talk about Teacher, and I don't think I can wait until
tomorrow.?

Gazing at the wreck of his kitchen, Rob fought the urge to giggle. He
bit it back before speaking. ?Yeah, you're right. I think we seriously
need to talk. Something just happened here that you wouldn't believe.?

Jason didn't ask what and Rob figured they both had their own fears to
fight today. Whatever had happened to the judge, Jason obviously wasn't
ready for any more weird stuff on his plate. Rob knew how he felt.
Suddenly, the idea of talking to Jason was very appealing. He didn't
think it was possible for two people to go mad together, and his sanity
was something he needed to feel secure in. ?Do you want to come over now??

?I can't. The ambulance has just left with the body, and

151

I've got some more stuff to do.?This time his pause was awkward, and
when he spoke, Rob knew why.

?Can you see if you can get hold of Gina somehow? I think you've got a
better chance with those solicitors than I do. I'm not sure that we can
get to the bottom of this shit without her.?

Rob's stomach sank, but in his gut he knew Jase was right. ?I can try.?

Now that they were in agreement, Jason sounded more confident. Fear was
obviously better shared than kept to oneself.

?Okay, you do that, and I'll come over this evening.?

It was only when he'd put the phone down, that the words flashed in
Rob's head again. MAKE HER COME HOME.

Pulling a dustpan and brush out from under the sink, suddenly exhausted
as his body calmed down, he decided that if that's what it would take to
get this shit to stop, then that's what he'd do. Make them come home. As
he started to clear up the mess, he wondered how much his coming home
actually had been his decision. Who or what had made him come home?

152

Shaking off the cold in the tiny hallway, Jack Hollingsworth hung up his
granddaughter's tiny coat and then swallowed it up with his own, before
ushering her into the kitchen for orange juice and cookies. As he got
their drinks ready, he whistled happily. He loved this time he had alone
with Tabby before Kelly got home. He knew that his daughter--and it
didn't seem so long ago that she'd been Tabby's age--worried that it was
too much of a burden on him, and no matter how much he tried to convince
her otherwise, any fool could see the concern on her face that maybe he
was overdoing things. He'd been sorely tempted on several occasions to
tell her exactly the same thing, but it seemed that those kind of wise
comments were the preserve of the young. He smiled wryly. And so the
parent becomes the child. Well, there was still plenty of parent left in
this old dog, and the truth of the matter was that he loved looking
after Tabitha. Being around her kept him young, and anything that did
that with so much charm was all right by him. They sat at the kitchen
table, and he watched as the

153 child in question drank her juice and nibbled on a chocolate
digestive. Kelly would kill him if she ever knew how many he let Tabby
have, but hey, wasn't that the kind of thing foolish old granddads were
supposed to do?

He sipped his tea. ?Remember that tomorrow afternoon you're going to
Emma's house to play after school.?Tabby insisted on calling her nursery
?school.??Your mummy and I have to go somewhere, but we'll be back as
soon as we can.?They'd decided against telling Tabby about the funeral.
There were some things that children should only be introduced to when
it was relevant to them, and until it was someone she knew, neither
Kelly nor himself thought it was necessary to talk to her about death.
Children were curious, and Kelly wasn't happy about the possibility of
her baby asking about how Carole-Anne had died. Jack could understand
why. If he were honest, he hadn't wanted to go at all, but Kelly had
been adamant. They'd been at school together and no matter what
Carole-Anne had done, it would be awful to be buried with no one there
to show respect. It had all sounded plausible enough, but Jack figured
that Kelly's insistence had more to do with that other old school friend
of hers, the writer.

Staring at Tabby, he realized that given their tiny family, the first
funeral she attended would probably be his. It gave him a vaguely
unsettled feeling for a moment, before he brushed it away. It would be
the natural course of things, and he had no plans for popping his clogs
just yet, no matter how much his hip ached, reminding him that the
bottom of his personal hourglass was much fuller than the top.

Tabby was still nibbling absently at her cookie, and Jack wondered
whether maybe she was coming down with something. She'd been very quiet
since he'd picked her up. Normally, she'd be chirping away about what
she'd done or whom she'd played with, but today she'd barely said a
word. It was strange, not like her at all.

154

?Are you okay, sweetheart??

She nodded, but as he refilled his teacup he could see her out of the
corner of his eye, staring at him warily.

?Do you have a secret, Granddad??Her voice was calm and low, and Jack's
hand froze for a second before he carefully put the teapot down.

He tried to smile a little. ?Everyone has secrets, Tabby. You've
probably got a couple. Private thoughts you want to keep all to yourself.?

Shaking her head impatiently, she kept her eyes firmly fixed on his.
?Not that kind of secret. A guilty secret. A shameful secret.?

Staring at Tabby, Jack felt his throat go dry. The words didn't sound
like hers, they were too old for her, and he wondered angrily who'd
given them to her, who'd been speaking to her. Nobody. Nobody knows.
Nobody could have told her.

Lifting his mug to his face to hide his fear, he was unsure of what to
say. ?Why do you ask, sweetheart??Under the strength of her gaze, he
felt as if he were caught in a game of cat and mouse. It was ridiculous,
but that's how he felt. A game of cat and mouse, and he wasn't the cat.

She put the half-eaten cookie down on her plate. ?Have you? Have you got
a secret from Mummy and me??

Jack felt his stomach twist and lurch. It was nothing, just the
curiosity of a child hitting a raw nerve, reopening scars, making them
bleed a little. It was nothing. She couldn't know. It wasn't possible.
And it was all so long ago. A lifetime ago. An old secret, a secret dead
a long time. There had been a time when it had eaten him up, but not
anymore. Now, there was just the ghost of shame that sometimes visited
him in the long, sleepless nights of the old.

He shook his head. ?No, darling. I would never keep a secret from you or
your mother. Never.?From behind the steam that rose from his tea, he
thought for a moment

155 that he saw a dark cloud pass in her eyes, a cloud too knowing for
such a little girl. He shook off the feeling. That's your own guilt
talking, old man. She couldn't know. Neither of them could know. And
that's the way he intended it to stay.

155 156

The inside of the solicitor's office overlooking Market Square was as
bland as the face of the overweight man on the other side of the modern
gray desk. Rob had been waiting in reception for twenty minutes by the
time the man actually called him in and his already frayed mood wasn't
tempered by the knowledge that he'd been kept waiting for no good
reason. No one left the office before he entered, and he severely
doubted that this little place had a back entrance to stop important
clients from being noticed by the proletariat. No, he knew what game the
little man was playing, and he also knew that there were better and more
effective ways of letting someone know that they were not impressed by
money and celebrity.

He gritted his teeth and smiled as he held his hand out. ?Mr.
Greenslade??The solicitor stood up, revealing that a surprisingly large
expanse of stomach lurked beneath that thin, pasty face.

?Mr. Black. Pleased to meet you. Sorry to keep you waiting.?He indicated
a chair and sat down again before Rob did. This guy would never survive
in the big city, and

157

Rob wondered why Gina would have left the management of her affairs in
his hands. ?What can I do for you today??His attitude so far may not
have been, but his smile was most certainly obsequious. He should be a
maitre d' in a second-rate Italian restaurant, Rob mused, before leaning
forward in his chair, eager to get on.

?I'd like you to pass a message on to Gina Grace for me.?

He shook his bald head, his smile adapting itself to suit a small child,
as he played with the gold signet ring on one of his interlocked
fingers. ?I'm afraid that Miss Grace has no desire to have any contact
with her past. I'm sure you understand.?

Rob resisted the urge to thump the squashy face. ?Well, that may be so,
but I need to discuss an urgent matter with her. Can't you just call her
and give her my phone number? I think she's old enough to make the
decision to speak to me or not all by herself.?

Mr. Greenslade coughed quietly. ?Actually, Mr. Black, Miss Grace
converses with me through a London solicitor. Any contact has to be made
through him.?Rob's smile grew. That made sense. This guy was actually
the bottom of the food chain, and the blush running through his face
said that he knew he'd been found out.

Rob tried to keep his voice civil. ?So call him. Tell him to call her.
It's important that I speak to her. Tell her it's about Teacher. She'll
understand.? Taking a piece of paper and a pen from the box of Post-its
by the phone, he scribbled his number down, and handed it to Greenslade.
?Call him.?

?I'm afraid I couldn't possibly do it now, I'm expecting a client. I'll
try this afternoon, but I wouldn't expect a response. Miss Grace has
always been very adamant on this subject.?

His patience wearing thin, Rob stood up. ?Well, maybe you could give me
his number. I can try him. Save you the time.?

On the other side of the desk, Greenslade also stood, drawing himself up
to his full rotund five-foot-something

158

height. Rob glowered down at him, knowing what he was about to say.

?I'm afraid I'm unable to give out that information. Like I said, I'll
try to contact them this afternoon.?Pulling up his cuffs, he examined
his watch. ?Now I'm afraid I'm really going to have to ask you to leave.
Time is marching on.?

Rob was already pulling open the door and looking out into the empty
reception area. ?Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Greenslade. Much
appreciated.? He already closed the door behind him by the time the
solicitor told him it had been a pleasure.

Standing outside on the cobbles, under the watchful gaze of a bronze
John Wesley, Rob swore aloud. Jesus, why did the world have to be full
of so many pricks? Maybe he should have been more honest with the
pompous arse. He could just imagine it.

?Hi, Mr. Fat Fuck Greenslade, I wonder if you can help me get in touch
with Gina Grace. You see, people are dying in horrible ways and my
computer's talking to me and I think wherever she is, she's doing it.
Why do I think that? Oh, of course, you weren't there, were you? You
weren't there when it all happened before. How silly of me.?

Yeah, he could just imagine what the solicitor would have made of that
little tirade. That would have gone down well. Jesus, what a mess. He
wasn't even sure he wanted Gina to get in touch, although he was pretty
sure Greenslade would pass on the message. That was his job, after all.
Message boy and maintenance man. Rob took a long, deep breath as he
started his walk home. Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. Part of
him was excited at the thought of Gina all grown up. Another part of him
was apprehensive. Well, it was out of his hands now. He'd done his bit.
From here on in, they'd just have to wait and see.

Jason pressed Play on the CD system and waited for the mellow, chill-out
album to seep into the room before

159

pouring himself a drink, sitting on the tatty brown and black sofa and
rubbing his eyes with a weary hand. Even in daylight, the tiny flat
retained a gloomy air. He put his glass on the side table and flicked
the switch on the lamp, hoping it would help dispel those shadows in his
mind as much as the ones in the corners of the room.

Holy fuck, what a day. Every time he shut his eyes all he could see was
that old man, curled up so pathetically in his goddamn underpants,
covered in ant powder. His body had been cold, too fucking cold to want
to touch, like old bread dough or something. And those awful, red open
eyes. At least the ambulance guys had closed them before they'd taken
the judge--had that really been the judge?--away. But they weren't
closed in his head. In his head he had a feeling that they'd be open
forever.

Leaning back in his seat, no energy left to keep himself upright, he
stared idly around at the shithole he called home. Yeah, it was clean,
he was pretty fastidious about that--hey, he'd been in that attic, he'd
seen what rotten food could turn into--and he'd done his best to
decorate within his limited means, but however hard he tried, it was
always going to be a shitty little flat in Gallows Hill.

Was this where he would have ended up, regardless of that summer? Had
his dreams of better things been only that, wasted dreams? Probably.
Carrie didn't exactly make good on hers either. Maybe they'd always been
meant to remain scum. Maybe that's just what happened to people like
them. He lit a cigarette and watched its smoke trails in the air before
taking a long sip of his whiskey and water.

Well, at least he'd had those dreams once, tenuous or not. Had they died
with Philip Grace? No, not then. Philip Grace had just been a grownup, a
person they passed sometimes on the way out Gina's door, or as his car
drove past them on the lane, they returning to their lives, he returning
to his. No, his dreams were dead before Philip Grace. His dreams died
when the magic went sour, two

160

long weeks or more before the summer ended with blood on the kitchen
floor. His dreams had died with Teacher.

Sighing, the pain as fresh as if it had happened yesterday, he pulled
out his wallet and carefully took out the battered and faded photo. It
shook in his hands as he stared. Philip Grace had taken it; he'd taken
one for each of them. A picture of the four of them and Teacher, early
in that summer when everything was good, before the scars that showed on
his hands and hurt in his heart.

His breath caught in his chest, as he sunk into the image, and despite
the ache inside that made him want to put it right away again in the
back of his wallet from where he never took it out, never looked at it,
hiding the too-painful memory away, he blinked back the emotion and
remembered.

They'd been hanging out with Gina for maybe three weeks when Teacher
arrived. During that time the three of them had decided Gina was pretty
cool, even if she was a bit unreadable and aloof. She'd changed them
too, or maybe it was just time that had changed them, setting their
hormones racing, growing them up against their will. Carrie had turned
into something of a wanna-be girl and they didn't seem to get so dirty
anymore, probably because Gina never wanted to climb trees or have play
fights or stuff like that, and because she didn't, neither did Carrie,
and so neither did he or Rob, because they didn't exactly want her to
see them as a pair of kids. Nope, if Gina didn't want to do it, whatever
it was, then it just didn't happen. And nobody minded.

But then, Gina was beautiful and clever, probably cleverer even than Rob
and that was saying something. More than that, she was special. After
the thing with the glass, they hadn't been able to stay away.

Yeah, magic like that had lured them back, and it wasn't just the glass.
As the weeks passed, other weird shit happened, and they had the feeling
that whatever

161

power Gina had, it was beginning to rub off on them. Like the time Jason
had been sliding helplessly down the muddy bank to the pond, his foot
tangled up with aggressive weeds, his body tumbling forward to the murky
water, all balance lost, and then suddenly he was free, his feet resting
on a newly dry patch of ground, the weeds dead and shriveled up, lying
harmlessly by his sneakers.

And then there was the hot sunny afternoon that Rob wound Carrie up
about some boy at school to the point when her fiery temper was boiling
over and she was cursing loudly at him to shut up. He didn't, of course,
and she went to smack him hard in the mouth, her hand too quick for him
even to think about ducking away. Carrie never missed a shot like that,
tomboy that she was she'd had plenty of practice, but she just couldn't
connect, her arm changing direction at the last minute, sending her
reeling around in a circle, her face a picture of dumbfounded confusion.
She tried again and the same thing happened, by which time they were all
laughing so hard, that her anger had evaporated into tears of mirth.

It seemed there'd been a lot of laughter in the early days of that long
summer. Easy smiles stretched out in the warm grass, the sun on their
backs. They never went to Rob's place anymore apart from maybe to pick
up a record or a football or something while the girls were at the
library; it just didn't have the same comforting feeling that whiling
away the time at Syracousse did. In fact, they never really went
anywhere else, the rest of the world had faded to a pale shimmer, and
even if they'd planned to go to the Rec or to the river, it never seemed
to happen. They'd find themselves heading down that dusty track to the
small side gate by the tree as if they were drawn there, and maybe they
were. They felt happy within the walled confines of the house and even
Rob, after all the shit that had happened in the attic, seemed to find
peace and the tattered remnants of his childhood at Syracousse.

One afternoon, they'd been up at the top of the house

162

in Gina's bedroom listening to the new Bay City Rollers album, the girls
lounging on her double bed, he and Rob leaning up against the long walls
of the room that was bigger than his mum's lounge up at Gallows Hill,
when Mr. Grace got home. His deep voice calling Gina's name drifted up
the elegant stairway. He was early. Normally he would just pass the
three of them on their way out the door saying farewell with a smile and
a nod, and that was only on the occasions that they didn't use the side
gate in the garden. And they never usually left until about seven, just
before Mrs. Grace got dinner out of the oven in perfect timing with her
husband's arrival home from London, so something had to be up for him to
be back before five.

Turning the record player off, Gina opened the door and ran down the
stairs, leaving them to follow her, unsure of what else to do. It
wouldn't be polite to stay in her room without her, and anyway, Philip
Grace sounded pretty excited about something and Jason knew that the
others were just as keen as he was to find out why. With a quick glance
of agreement, they shut the door behind them and ran. Catching up with
Gina at the bottom of the stairs, they stared at the tall, handsome
figure holding a large cardboard box, which seemed to wobble in his
arms; whatever was inside shifting from end to end. Gina was clapping
her hands excitedly. ?Is it a kitten, Daddy? Have you gotten me a
kitten??Her voice was almost a squeal, and Jason realized he'd never
seen her so unreserved, so childlike.

Her father smiled, enjoying her reaction. ?Well, let's all go into the
kitchen and see, shall we??Walking just behind them, Jason felt his
heart pounding. What was it? What had he brought home?

Placing the box carefully on the kitchen table, Philip ignored the glare
that flashed from his wife, and slowly lifted the flaps. Reaching in, he
pulled out a tiny golden ball of fur, long ears flopping over the deep
brown eyes, a tiny pink tongue hanging from its mouth, as the bundle of

163 paws and tail let out a small squeak that might one day be a bark.
?So what do you think? You'll have to be careful with him, he's only
about six weeks old.?

The light in Gina's eyes faded a little, and the disappointment was
clear in her voice. ?I thought it was going to be a kitten.?

Camilla, leaning her elegant frame against the counter let out a long,
tired sigh. ?You should have talked to me about this first, Philip.?

Still holding the small animal, Mr. Grace looked from his daughter to
his wife, mild hurt and annoyance in his face. ?But I wanted it to be a
surprise. Most children would give their right arm for a puppy, isn't
that right boys??Jason couldn't take his eyes off the small animal, but
he nodded slowly. A puppy. It was all he'd ever wanted, but there was no
chance in hell he'd ever get one from his mother. Philip Grace had
brought home a puppy. He could see Rob beaming from the corner of his
eye. Yeah, Rob obviously thought it was pretty cool too, but nothing
like he did. Taking a hesitant step forward, he reached out and stroked
the cotton wool fur, feeling the warm breath on his hand. Philip Grace
lowered the dog to the floor and Jason bent down with him, fussing the
tiny creature, almost oblivious to the heated conversation above him.

Camilla's voice was sharp. ?That doesn't change the fact that you should
have talked to me about it. We agreed on a kitten. That is what she
wanted after all. But you had to go and get a dog. I hope to hell it's
house-trained.?

?Of course it's not bloody housetrained, it's six weeks old. Anyway, it
can spend most of the day in the garden while the weather's good. I
don't see what your problem is.?

The harsh sounds were making the little dog nervous and Jason softly
soothed it. He loved the dog from that moment, watching it sitting there
unsure on the kitchen floor, the floor that would soon be covered with
its owner's blood, unsure and wanting only to be loved. The row raged
above them in soft controlled voices leaking bitterness.

164

?They're so damned messy! It's going to be dragging in dirt from the
garden all day and I'm going to end up spending my life mopping up after
it. We agreed on a cat, Philip. I don't even like dogs, but of course
you didn't take that into consideration, did you? And judging by Gina's
face, I don't think she's particularly keen either. Why couldn't you
just think about somebody else for a change??

Jason could see Carrie's feet shuffling awkwardly in the tense
atmosphere, and he scooped the puppy up in his arms. ?Shall we take him
outside, Mr. Grace??

The man nodded, his eyes fixed angrily on his wife. Rob had swiftly
opened the back door and stepped outside with Carrie, Gina close behind
them. None of them were used to any kind of disharmony here and wanted
to get away from it quickly, so they could pretend the argument had
never happened. Jason paused in the doorway. ?Don't worry, Mrs. Grace.
I'll house-train him. I'll try to make sure he doesn't bring any mud
into your kitchen either.?

Her beautiful face gave him a wan smile. ?Thank you, Jason. That's very
kind. Now run along outside, I'll bring you some drinks out soon.?Jason
nodded, and then stepped into the warm breeze.

Joining the others on the rug, happy to be away from the awful tension
inside, he put the puppy down. Carrie and Rob laughed and fussed him
with Jason, the dog slowly relaxing and starting to play, nipping them
with tiny sharp hot teeth. Gina petted it a little, but wouldn't let it
clamber on her, not wanting to get puppy drool on her dress.

Gently pushing the excited face away from where it was trying to chew
his ear, Jason smiled at Gina. ?What do you want to call him??

The pretty girl shrugged. ?I don't know. You decide.?

Carrie was giggling as paws scrabbled at her back to reach her hair. ?I
think we should call him Teacher.?

165

Rob snorted. ?What kind of a name is that for a dog? We can't call him
that, it's stupid!?

?I like it. I think it's pretty cool.?Jason was rubbing the small round
upturned belly and his words were soft. ?I think he deserves an unusual
name.?

Tucking her thick hair behind her ear, Gina raised an eyebrow. ?Okay.
We'll call him Teacher.?The little puppy yapped, almost in approval, and
even Gina laughed.

Over the next few weeks, Gina and her mother got used to having Teacher
around, but they never really took to him as the others did, and even
Rob and Carrie, who loved the little dog as if it were their own, didn't
love him as much as Jason. Nobody could. Even Philip Grace, whose life
barely touched those of the visiting children, grudgingly admitted that
if the daft ball of fur belonged to anyone, that person was Jason. The
dog loved him as much as he loved it. But then, it was Jason who spent
every possible moment there playing with him, trying to house-train him
so Camilla Grace wouldn't hit Teacher with a broom, and on those
occasions when he had an over-excited accident, it would be Jason who
quickly cleaned it up so that no one would notice.

As Teacher got bigger and clumsier, his fur losing its baby coat,
growing instead in long waves of silky gold, Jason loved him more and
more. He would get out of bed an hour early on school days so he could
take the dog down to the river, as neither Gina nor her mother had shown
any interest in taking him for a walk, and Philip Grace had to leave
early to get to work. Sometimes Rob would get his lazy arse out of bed
and join them, but mainly it was just him and Teach, and although he'd
never tell Rob, that was the way he liked it best. Just the two of them
and the smell of fresh warm summer's air, the smell that only, the very
beginning of a day can have, untainted by events, new to the world.

When they got back to the house, Jason would carefully

166

rub Teacher down with a towel, making sure he was dried off from any
dips in the river, and then saying good-bye to him in the garden, he'd
leave through the side gate and head off to pick up Rob on the way to
school. Sometimes, he wouldn't see Gina at all during those morning
visits, and although he still thought she was the most beautiful thing
he'd ever seen and was completely in love with her in an awestruck kind
of way, he was sad that she didn't love Teacher like he did. And the
bigger he got, the more Teacher seemed to annoy her. She couldn't stand
it when he jumped up at her, or shook his glorious wet, musty fur,
splashing her, and Jason wondered how much of that came from Mrs. Grace.

Although the woman was never cruel to the dog, Jason knew she didn't
particularly like him, and she'd even asked him once if he'd like to
take Teacher home and keep him. Oh, that had hurt his heart. There was
nothing in the world Jason would have liked more, but there was no way
his mother would allow it. Sometimes, he would lie awake in his tiny
shoebox bedroom and hug his pillow to him imagining that it was thick,
warm fur he was burying his face into. The thought would help him sleep
over the sound of his mother and whoever was in the room next door.

It was after a Sunday afternoon walk down by the river, when Carrie had
to leave early to help her mum with something or other, that he'd dried
Teacher off and then gone into the kitchen to get himself and the dog a
drink, and seen Rob kissing Gina through the kitchen window. Staring at
them, the tap still running, his heart had twisted in his chest. What
did Rob want? Everything? You didn't have to be blind to see that Carrie
had a crush on him, which didn't bother Jason too much anymore, but he'd
told Rob what he felt about Gina, and Rob had promised, promised, that
he didn't feel the same.

Standing there, he felt alone, truly alone for the first time in his
life. Robster had broken his promise, and

167

something in their friendship snapped inside him. It couldn't be relied
on anymore. It couldn't be trusted. He still loved Rob, and the next
week when they made their awful discovery in the attic, Jason's heart
would break for his friend; but the seeds of destruction were sown that
afternoon. Feeling a wet nose on his hand, he'd looked down at Teacher,
and with eyes brimming with tears, realized that he and the dog had
something in common. Neither of them were really wanted. Rubbing the
head under his fingers, he took comfort in the fact that at least they
had each other. At least they had that.

Looking back through the wasted years, Jason wondered whether Gina had
been jealous of Teacher, jealous of the way they all fussed over him and
loved him, and jealous of how he was the focus of Jason's visits now and
not her. Not even the weird things she did held the allure for him that
the dog did. Those he was used to, the novelty gone. Yeah, maybe she was
jealous. Jealous and spiteful. He sure as hell never saw Rob and Gina
kissing again after that afternoon. Well, jealous or not, it didn't
justify what happened. Nothing could justify what happened.

It was a cool afternoon when the magic turned sour. They'd been out in
the garden for an hour or so, the girls messing around on the swing
talking girl stuff like they did sometimes while Rob and he tried to
catch frogs by the huge pond, Teacher sticking his huge nose in their
faces and in the jam jars, trying to figure out what they were doing,
eager to be part of it. It was four weeks since the kiss and three weeks
since the madness in the attic, and the atmosphere between the two boys
was quiet and reflective.

It would be another four long days before Jason drove the final nail
into the coffin of their friendship, his bandaged arms behind his back,
standing at the front of the classroom not giving a shit about anything
anymore, except trying to make someone else hurt as much as he did, as
if that might somehow lessen the isolating pain that

168

was ripping his insides apart. By then the world would have changed, but
all that was in the future. At that moment, standing side, by side next
to the pond, there was just an awkwardness they didn't know how to deal
with. Their friendship had shifted slightly, and neither of them knew
how to handle it.

Silently unscrewing the lid of his jar and releasing the small frog that
had been jumping at the transparent walls, Jason watched Rob's impassive
face from behind his scruffy bangs. The overcast sky seemed to be
reflected in the tanned boy's expression, and Jason wondered what was
going on in his mind as he sifted through the mud searching for life.
The more he studied his friend, the more it seemed that he was looking
at a stranger, the features familiar but no longer recognizable. The
ease that he had always felt in Rob's company was gone, and he didn't
know how to get it back. He didn't even know whether he wanted to get it
back.

The small frog bounded away, chirruping with joy, and Jason followed its
progress with his eyes, one hand locked in Teacher's fur as the dog
panted beside him. Why did life have to be so complicated? He was
feeling things he didn't like, had been for weeks and he hated himself
for the new darkness he'd discovered growing inside him, wishing it
could just stop, stop right here and now, but it wouldn't. It couldn't.
And it had all started with that kiss. That stupid kiss.

He picked up a pebble and skimmed it across the water. He shouldn't
resent Rob for that, not anymore, not with everything that had happened
since, but the memory of it had somehow soured the sympathy he felt for
his friend. That small black area inside him that he so desperately
wanted to squash was pleased that things were far from rosy in the
perfect life of Robert Black. That part of him was laughing hard. Maybe
now Rob would have an idea of what it was like for the rest of them.
Maybe now he'd

169

realize that for most people life was pretty shit. Maybe now he'd
realize that he wasn't so fucking special after all.

Teacher licked his face, and Jason locked his arm around the dog's body.
Even here at Syracousse with Teach, he couldn't shake off the heaviness
of his soul. His feelings were too mixed up for that. He was angry at
Rob too, angry at him for unwillingly unsettling the stability of the
world. If shit like that could happen in his life, then what hope was
there for the rest of them? Rob was the golden boy, everybody's favorite
guy; crap like this wasn't supposed to happen in his world. His world
was what everyone else was supposed to dream about. The afternoon in the
attic had changed all that. Suddenly, nothing was certain anymore, and
that frightened him. He shivered in the cool breeze.

Carrie was waving at them from the other side of the garden by the
swing. ?We're going inside! It's too cold out here.?

Jason nodded back and stood up, pleased with the suggestion. The girls
were right, the air was too thin to really enjoy being outside, and
maybe the change of situation would help lift his mood.

?You coming in??He touched Rob's shoulder, the other boy still crouched
by the water.

Rob looked up and smiled. ?Yeah, my feet are frozen to shit.? He held
his hand out for Jason to help pull him up the bank, and with the
physical contact it seemed that for a moment the events of the past
month were forgotten, the two boys grinning together as they collected
their motley equipment and, followed by Teacher, headed inside.

Jason hadn't realized just how chilly it had been outside until they
were all gathered in the warmth of the Graces' kitchen. Camilla had just
finished peeling and chopping a pile of potatoes, and a large pan of
water was boiling on the stove, the steam hovering above like mist in
the mountains. She smiled cheerfully at them as Teacher beat her legs
with his wagging tail.

170

?Look at you lot! You've got goose bumps. I can't believe you went out
there without any sweaters on.?She glanced through the window at the
trees that swayed in the strong wind. ?It seems like the summer's
abandoned us for today, I'm afraid. It looks like October out
there.?Drying her hands on a tea towel, she headed toward the door to
the hallway. ?I'll go and light a fire in the lounge, so you can warm up
in there. Get yourselves some drinks and I'll be back in a minute.?

Carrie plugged in the kettle and opened the cupboard above it. ?Well, I
don't know about you lot, but I really fancy a hot chocolate.?

?Yeah, me too.?Rob was rubbing warmth back into his arms, his t-shirt
still damp from mucking around by the pond. Jason handed Carrie four
mugs from the tree next to him and she started to spoon the powder in.

Standing by the stove, Gina had opened a box of cookies and left it
close to the edge of the counter, as she nibbled on a slice of
shortbread. Teacher, perennially hungry, whined and slavered by her
knees, gazing up at her imploringly. She ignored him. On the other side
of the room, Jason cringed, hoping the dog would stop begging. It was
the one thing that really made Camilla Grace angry, and Jason knew that
it was his fault Teacher did it at all. The Graces never ever fed him
tidbits, but Jason just couldn't help himself and always snuck his
canine friend small pieces of whatever he was eating. Every time, he
promised himself that he wouldn't do it anymore, but he couldn't resist
those big soppy brown eyes. Yeah, if it wasn't for him, daft as he was,
Teach would have learned the no-begging rule by now. Avoiding the dog's
confused glances, he started adding sugar to the mugs, ready and waiting
for the kettle to boil.

Gina took another biscuit, and Teacher pawed at her legs, his mouth
starting to drool. ?Jesus, Teacher, sod off!?Gina pushed him away and
moved to the other side of the stove, mild irritation marring her
beauty. Watching from

171

the far counter, Jason saw the dog eyeing the box so temptingly close to
the edge of the counter, and realized with horror what he was going to
do. ?Teacher, no!?

It was too late. The dog's clumsy front paws had left the ground by the
time Jason got the words out, and as he scrabbled for the counter, all
Jason and the others could do was watch with sickening horror as the
golden pad hit the black handle of the pan, sending the boiling water up
into the air, bringing it down in a waterfall directly over Gina's head.
The girl flinched by instinct, but not a drop touched her as Rob--always
Rob the hero--grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Instead the water
squirted outwards, as if trapped in an invisible hose that someone had
squeezed a finger over, spraying everything but Gina. Teacher yelped and
bounded towards Jason, who hugged the dog to him, crouching on the
floor. Still holding the kettle, Carrie let out a small shout as some of
the scalding liquid landed on her arm. Sometime in all this, the pan
clattered emptily to the floor, the noise harsh and unforgiving.

For a moment there was silence as the four children stared at each
other, and then Teacher whimpered, his dog sense telling him that this
was all his fault. Jason patted him gently as the water gathered in a
steaming pool in the middle of the floor.

Gina's face was red with anger. ?That stupid dog is always in the way.
Look what it's done now!?

Camilla Grace appeared in the doorway, and took in the scene, her face
confused. ?What happened??

Gina's face was as surly as her voice, and Jason felt himself falling
out of love with her. ?Teacher jumped up to get the biscuits and knocked
the pan over. I hate that stupid dog! Why didn't Daddy just get me a
kitten like I wanted??

Camilla rushed to her daughter to check her for burns, taking no notice
of Carrie who held her scalded wrist under the cold tap. ?Are you okay,
darling? Oh God, you could have been seriously hurt.?

172

Jason stood up, aware of the dog crouched low and fearful behind his
legs. ?No one was hurt, Mrs. Grace. It was just an accident.?His heart
squeezed tight as he saw Carrie out of the corner of his eye turning the
tap quickly off, and hiding her burn in support. She wouldn't want
Teacher to get into trouble any more than he did. Suddenly Carrie's
inner beauty shone for him far brighter than Gina's physical presence
ever could. Somewhere in this strange summer that had gotten lost. So
many things had gotten lost, and he wondered how much of it was down to
Gina's strange power and the hold she seemed to have over them.

Camilla Grace's eyes were cold as she stared at Teacher. ?That bloody
dog's been a nuisance ever since it arrived.?She pointed at the blanket
in the corner of the room. ?Get on your bed!? The overgrown puppy
shifted forward a couple of steps, and braved a half-wag with its tail.
?I said get on your bed!?Her shrill words conveyed their meaning well,
and almost on his belly, Teacher skulked over to the blanket and lay
down, his brown eyes gazing up at each of them mournfully.

Jason moved toward him, his heart aching, knowing this was partially his
fault. If he hadn't encouraged Teach to beg then none of this would have
happened, and he just wanted to stroke him and let him know everything
was okay.

This time Camilla's anger was directed at him, her voice calm and quiet.
?Jason, if you go and pet that dog, then it's the last time you'll step
foot in this house. Do you understand me? The animal has to learn.?
Jason froze on the spot and nodded, unable to contemplate never
returning here, to the comfort of the house, to Teacher.

?Now go into the sitting room. All of you. I've got to mop up this mess.?

Subdued, Jason followed the others out, and into the lounge at the front
of the house. The fire was blazing and he sat silently on the sofa next
to Rob, just wanting to go 173

home, but unable to leave until he knew that Teacher was going to be all
right. Carrie took one of the deep armchairs and stared with disgust at
Gina, who was sitting in the other. Her voice was low. ?Why did you have
to tell your mum about Teacher? That was mean. You could have just said
it was an accident.?

Rob slowly nodded. ?Yeah, Carrie's right, you didn't have to get him in
trouble. He's only a puppy. And it's not as if you were in any danger,
is it? That water wouldn't have hit you if I'd poured it over your head.?

Gina shrugged. ?I don't know what you're getting so wound up about. It's
only a dog.? She sounded disgruntled, and Jason felt warmth flooding
through his body, warmth and love for Carrie and Rob. Carrie, Rob and
Teacher, his forever friends.

Gina got up and turned the TV on, and the four of them watched it
silently, enjoying the blaze that warmed their bones from the hearth,
despite the atmosphere that hung over them, the feeling unnatural to
this place where they all normally felt so at ease. Jason was surprised
that neither Carrie nor Rob had decided to leave yet, and realized that
maybe they like him, wanted to check on their four-legged friend before
heading back into their other, less consuming lives. Something in the
thought calmed him. Everything was going to be okay. The poor mutt had
just been given a telling off, that's all, nothing worth going ape for.

After maybe half an hour or so, Jason heard the kitchen door opening and
the sound of paws scratching on the wooden floor of the hall. He doubted
Teacher was out of the doghouse, but as Camilla Grace never allowed him
in the kitchen when she was preparing food, then he reckoned the puppy
had a temporary reprieve. It seemed he was right, because a few seconds
later, the familiar panting snout came into view, poking itself around
the doorway, before hesitantly edging into the room.

Jason and Carrie exchanged grins as the ungainly dog

174

tried to move unnoticed toward the carpet in front of the fire, his tail
still hung low with shame although the tip was wagging in anticipation
of forgiveness. Carrie gave him a surreptitious pat as he passed, and
even Rob giggled at the sight of Teacher trying to control his
happiness, while still glancing warily at Gina. Eventually, his
confidence a little restored, he sat down a few feet away from the fire,
pleased to be back in their company. He looked over at Jason for
reassurance, but not wanting to excite Teach and make Gina, who so far
had ignored his entrance by concentrating on the TV, shout at him again,
he only smiled quickly and then looked away.

Teacher took a step toward Jason, wanting to curl up by his feet, and
then froze and started to whine.

?What's the matter with him??Rob had leaned forward on the sofa, and
Jason had to stretch around him to see. Teacher's body looked strange,
twisted slightly, as if he was wanting to go in one direction, and
someone was pulling in the other. His heart started to pound. ?What's
the matter, boy? Come here.?

The dog whined again, his eyes moving from one person to the next in
confusion and rising panic. Even Gina was watching him, her face pale,
as Teacher seemed to slide slightly on the carpet. Carrie's voice came
in a whisper, sending a chill through Jason's body. ?It looks like
someone's trying to drag him by his collar.?She was right. Teacher was
now sitting much closer to the fire than he had been moments ago. Or was
it just his imagination? How could he have been pulled by nothing?

There was a moment's pause, and then the dog stood up, his tail wagging
slightly, still a little unsure, but back in control of his body. Rob
looked at Gina. ?What the hell was that all about??

Before she had a chance to answer, if she could answer at all, the puppy
howled, a sound too high and too loud and too afraid to come from a dog.
His big brown eyes met Jason's for a brief second before something
twisted 175

the dog around and sucked it forward, plunging that beautiful golden
head into the flames. The room was suddenly filled with screams, but the
only ones Jason could hear were Teacher's and his own as he leapt from
the sofa where Rob sat frozen, and threw himself across the room,
clutching at the body of the squealing struggling dog, trying to pull
him out, trying with all his might, but something stronger was holding
him in there.

Screaming in frustration, ignoring the smell of burning fur and cooking
meat, and ignoring the tears that were pouring down his face, Jason
thrust his hands into the fire, the pain unbearable as it raced up his
arms, but that didn't matter, nothing mattered, and the melting skin on
his fingers made contact with the melting flesh of Teacher's head as the
dog flung itself from side to side in agony, trapped in the fire. Their
screams mingled as Jason tugged and tugged, the dampness on his cheeks
evaporating in the searing wall of heat, and then there was only his own
scream of pain and anguish abandoned by the other, as the struggling
stopped and the dog went limp in his arms, the sudden weight making
Jason fall backwards as the fire released its cargo.

As he knelt on the carpet, somewhere behind him he could hear Carrie's
hitching breath as she whispered from behind her hands, ?Oh my God, oh
my God, oh my God, oh my God,? to no one and everyone, but the words
seemed to be traveling from another world, as was the keening, quiet
wail coming from him, from deep inside him, getting louder every second
as he cradled the mutilated, unrecognizable head, in his burnt hands.
From the neck up Teacher had no skin, no skin at all, just something
pink stretched over his bones and teeth, pulled back in agony, and those
floppy, silky ears were vanished forever. Jason was rocking backwards
and forwards now, as his whole being started to break, not just his
heart, this was too much for just his heart, and he felt as if every
organ inside was shattering, smashing themselves into

176

nothing, leaving him hollow. Leaning over, unaware of the stench, he
kissed the hot meat, held it close to him as if somehow, maybe if he
wished hard enough, he could bring Teacher back, but he's got no eyes,
no big, brown soft eyes, and maybe if I'd moved quicker, and maybe if
I'd never given him a treat, and maybe it's all my fault.

The scream ripped through his thoughts, and this time he was sure it
wasn't his own, he had no energy left for screaming, and then there were
Camilla Grace's hands trying to pull him away, and then Rob's were there
too, and then there were too many hands and he couldn't hold on against
them, however much he tried, and then they separated them. They took
Teacher from him. After that, it was his own howl of grief that filled
his ears.

The rest of the day passed in a haze, it probably did for all of them,
but Jason was beyond noticing the others. He was barely aware of
himself. Camilla Grace put Teacher in a black garbage bag, he was sure
of that, he could remember Rob's silent tears as he helped her, and all
the while she talked about what a terrible accident it was, and how
they'd bury him properly in the garden with a cross and everything, and
as Jason listened numbly to the words all he could see was that black
plastic bag, knowing Teacher was in it like some kind of used-up rubbish
that nobody wanted, nobody had ever wanted, and he deserved better than
that.

He didn't know where she put Teacher's remains, and he didn't really
want to know, but after they'd ?cleared up,? as Camilla Grace called it,
she bundled Jason and Rob into the car and took them to the hospital,
her face looking old and drawn as she clutched the wheel. Carrie stayed
behind with Gina, who didn't want to come, wasn't able to come, instead
sitting in the armchair, her back stiff and upright, clutching at her
hands as she stared at the singed area in the middle of the rug.

The doctor covered his arms and hands with lotions that felt like acid
on his flesh and then bandaged him up

177

and told him he'd have to come back and get the dressings changed in a
couple of days. The words washed over him as did Camilla Grace's tears
and soothing whispers. Rob sat on the chair opposite and their eyes met,
both gazes now old before their time, and Jason knew that the other boy
was thinking the same thing he was. Teacher nearly burned Gina in the
kitchen and then this happened. Her magic had gone sour. Everything had
gone sour.

The next day, he didn't go to Syracousse. None of them did. Nor the day
after that. Two days later, so full of anger at the world--maybe if Rob
had got up off the sofa and helped, we could have saved Teacher--he did
the terrible thing on the last day of school, and then he didn't really
see anyone for a while, except Carrie who valiantly kept trying to get
the two boys to speak. But she didn't go to Syracousse either, and
neither did Rob. They'd had their fill of Gina. It was two weeks before
they'd go back again, sneaking in through the side gate late in the
evening, not wanting to see either Camilla or Philip Grace, and only
then after Carrie had insisted. It was she who had made the three of
them meet up at Rob's for two long hours of discussion, trying to
analyze what had really happened, each word like a knife in the aching
hollow of his insides. But they'd done what she said and had gone to
Syracousse, because they needed to know, maybe they needed to go back
and give Gina, who had become drawn and quiet, a chance to answer for
herself. That's what Carrie had said anyway, and maybe she was right.
They sure as hell got more of an answer than they bargained for.

The small drop of liquid fell directly from his eye to the tatty image,
and Jason carefully wiped it off before putting the photo away. Sniffing
hard, he drained his glass, angry with himself. Crying at something that
happened more than twenty years ago. Jesus, he didn't cry when he heard
about Carrie, but he could still cry over Teacher? How fucking pathetic
was that? Standing up, the walls of the

178

tiny flat suddenly claustrophobic; he grabbed his jacket from the back
of the door, and headed outside. He didn't know quite how he felt about
spending time with Rob again, but at least at the moment, Robster'd be
the one person who didn't think he was going mad, and even if he was,
then they were going mad together. He smiled wryly as the cold wind hit
his cheeks. And going mad with someone else in tow didn't seem quite as
frightening as doing it on your own.

178 179

Rob had cleaned up the kitchen and the house was looking pretty normal
by the time Jason arrived at six-thirty. Standing in the kitchen, like
they had so many times, so many years ago, the awkwardness between them
was almost visible, and under the bright lights Jason looked tired and pale.

?Are you okay, mate??Rob grabbed the bottle of wine he'd just opened and
two glasses as Jason laughed slightly.

?Yeah, but it's been one fucker of a day.?

Glancing around at the cupboards that so recently had been covered with
coffee, he knew what Jase meant. Boy, did he understand. ?Come on. Let's
go into the lounge.?He didn't plan to spend any more time than he had to
in this room, and he certainly didn't have any intention of turning on
his laptop again. Nope, if there was any writing to be done--and he had
serious doubts about that happening in the near future--then it was back
to the good old paper-and-pen method.

Jason sat on the sofa and sipped his wine, his body stiff and
uncomfortable as he leaned forward, resting his

180 *l

forearms on his legs. ?Any luck with getting hold of Gina??His blue eyes
shone in the reflective glow of the fire, but their seriousness dulled
them dark.

Rob shook his head. ?I don't know yet. The solicitor says he'll pass the
message on, but we'll see. Maybe we'll hear from her, but probably
not.?He sipped his own drink. ?What happened with Judge Matthews??

Jason took three or four long gulps of wine before he started his story,
and Rob listened quietly without interruption, as his childhood friend
spoke calmly, starting with the fight with Bob and moving to the judge's
madness, and as he listened his heart chilled. So many secrets. You and
your friends. So much dirty guilt eating at you. So much blame. How
could the judge have known? How? Well, if you're going to start thinking
things like that, then how the hell did your computer blow up your
coffee machine this morning? Haven't quite figured out an answer for
that yet, have we?

Pulling his attention back, realizing that the story was moving on
without him, he focused again on Jason's words, swallowing his fear for
a moment. Studying the other man's face as he spoke, seeing the
self-loathing that hovered so close to its surface, he wondered whether
Jason had any idea of how few people in the world, in this untrusting
world, would have checked on the old man like he did? Jason had always
been such a conflict of so many things, and it seemed as if nothing
there had changed. He could have been anything he wanted, despite
Gallows Hill, despite everything that happened to them; Gina, Teacher
and Philip Grace, but there was too much anger inside him that he'd
never been able to let go. Maybe it was staying in Streatford that had
kept it there, locked up tight inside. Maybe Jason had thought that
without his anger there would be nothing of him left. And it wasn't just
Jase. Were he and Carrie so different? Carrie was dead, and he, well,
the success of his books was certainly balanced by the failures in his
personal life. No question

181

about that. God, did what happened that summer really leave them all as
fuckups, or should they take a little more of the blame for that themselves?

Jason poured himself another glass of wine, and topped off Rob's, his
story over. ?I don't know, maybe it means something, or maybe I'm just
going fucking crazy. Either way, all I know is that old man put the fear
of God into me with what he said. And then finding him dead like that
... I mean, shit!?

Rob lit two cigarettes and passed one to Jason, who held it with finger
and thumb, instead of the normal way between index and middle fingers,
just as he had on their first nauseating encounters with nicotine down
at the Rec when they were nine or ten. There was something comforting in
that.

?I don't think you're crazy. I don't think you're crazy at all.? Pulling
deep on his cigarette, he recounted the weird things Kelly had told him
about the rape at the house and then the events of his kitchen, the
madness of the words that appeared impossibly on the unplugged screen,
MAKE HER COME HOME HOME HOME, and the explosion of his coffee pot.
Hearing the words aloud, his own speech more faltering than Jason's had
been, it was hard to believe that it had only happened this morning; the
fear seemed to have been with him far longer than that. When he'd
finished, he looked up at Jason, who seemed to accept his story without
questions as if he'd been expecting it, or something like it. ?Do you
think Gina could be doing all this stuff without realizing it??

Jason shrugged. ?Your guess is as good as mine. It's possible. I mean,
she never really had control over the stuff that happened back then, did
she? Whatever power she had, it was subconscious. Maybe wherever she is,
she's going through some kind of trauma and this is how it's coming
out.?He paused. ?It's hard to say. I never really felt I knew her. She
was always a bit elusive, wasn't she??A grim smile threatened to break
on his face.

182 <

?Beautiful and terrible. But I guess you probably knew her better than
me, so what do you think??

Rob shook his head, not knowing if Jason had meant

the comment to be barbed or not, and not really caring. ?I didn't know
her any better than anyone, although after Teacher came along, I guess
Carrie and I spent more time with her than you did. I think Carrie knew
her best, but she's not here to help us.?

Jason stared into the fire. ?I think Gina was jealous of Teacher.?

Rob thought of the dream he'd had while dozing on the afternoon before
his date with Kelly, the way he'd seen it all from the outside, Gina's
eyes flicking to the kitchen window, checking to see that Jason was
there before she kissed him. ?I think Gina was jealous of a lot of
things.?His eyes lingered on the flames as the two of them sat in
silence for a few moments. Despite the reason for their reunion, it felt
good to see Jason again, to talk about all this stuff with someone who
could understand. He pulled his eyes away from the streaks of hot blue
and orange and was startled to find Jason watching him intently. The
other man's eyes slipped away, looking into the red in his glass while
he spoke.

?I've been thinking about Carrie's message. About Teacher. What do you
think she meant by 'we got it wrong'? Do you think maybe she thought
that Gina wasn't responsible??

?I've wondered about that, too.?His voice was firmer, quicker. This was
no time to meander into memories. ?But then I think about that last day
at the house. About what Gina said and then what happened. I can't see
how it couldn't be her. I mean, who else could it be? Also, this weird
shit is only happening to people involved with her. The judge locked her
mum away in the nuthouse, and us ... well, we were there, we knew more
than anyone what was going on at Syracousse. Shit, we loved it up there.
We couldn't stay away.? 183

Jason smiled. ?It felt good up there for a while, didn't it? It was the
first place that I'd really felt safe, where the world was my oyster. I
was happy there.?He let out a short laugh. ?Sounds crazy given
everything that happened.?

?I think crazy is the word of the day, so I wouldn't worry too much
about it if I were you.?Their eyes met and it was good to see no tension
there. Jason lit another cigarette.

?So if this stuff is only happening to the people who know Gina, then
how do you explain the rape up at the house? Those kids wouldn't know Gina.?

Rob sighed. ?I can't answer that. All I know is that my gut tells me
that the rape was the start of it all. It's like it flicked a switch or
something, turning this madness on.?

?It'd be a bit of a relief if we were just going mad, wouldn't it? We
could just go and check ourselves into the funny farm and that'd be
that.? Jason seemed to find the thought amusing for a moment, before a
dark shadow settled on his face. He glanced around the room, and Rob
knew before Jason started speaking that his mind had wandered to that
afternoon in the attic.

?This house brings back the memories, too. Are you sure you're okay
staying here??

Rob's insides clammed up. He wasn't ready to talk about his dad with
Jason yet. ?It was a long time ago. I don't really think about it
much.?His voice was sharp and Jason didn't look convinced.

?If you say so.?

?I say so.?

Suddenly the strained atmosphere between them had returned, the room
filled with tension just as it had been on the afternoon that Carrie had
called the powwow to talk about Teacher, and the two of them had sat
just like this, not looking at each other, not even wanting to speak to
each other. All that was missing was the pain of that afternoon. Time
had taken care of that, but the tension had survived and seemed just as
strong as ever.

184

Rob stood up, too drained to feel anything but tired. Maybe some things
were broken forever, however much you wished you could mend them. Like a
carefully repaired broken vase. It may look exactly the same afterwards,
but the damage had been done, its perfection ruined. You may as well
just have thrown it away.

?Look, we'll see if we hear from Gina over the next couple of days. Then
we'll decide what to do, if in fact there is anything we can do without
getting ourselves certified. Anyway, I'll see you at the funeral tomorrow.?

Jason had stood up, and they walked into the hallway to the front door.
?I'll be there.?

Rob pulled the door open, the cold wind bursting in. ?It's been good
talking to you, Jase. It really has.?He cursed himself inside for how
false the words sounded, despite the fact that he meant them. Probably
because of the fact that he meant them. Well, that was him, great on
paper, pretty crap in reality.

Jason didn't look back as he stepped outside, but his voice was heavy
and sad. ?You too, Robster. You too.? 185

Rob's umbrella gave him some protection from the rain as he walked up to
the town's graveyard on Dulverton Road, but by the time he stepped
through the small black gates under the moss-covered stone arch, his
legs were feeling damp beneath the trousers of his suit, and his nose
was running slightly. The rain had started in the night, its constant
beating at the window keeping him company through the long night as he
lay awake, his small spells of sleep interrupted by dreams of Carrie as
she had been and the fat, unhappy woman she became. In the end he'd
gotten up at four and made himself coffee and a fire, trying to lose
himself in a book until the rest of the world woke up. It didn't really
work, the combination of tiredness and emotional upset, destroying his
concentration.

Michael had rung at eight, and he'd mustered enough energy to lie about
the progress of the book, and put the agent off the idea of coming down
for a few days--?don't want to spoil the momentum?--before trying to
wash away his exhaustion under the shower.

Now, as he strode through the rows of abandoned

186

gravestones toward the mound of dug-out earth at the back, he was glad
of the rain. It made him feel alive, attacking the numbness inside him
from the outside. Stepping onto the wet grass, he made his way to where
the vicar was standing patiently at the head of the grave. As he got
closer, the coffin came into view, next to the hole it would soon
disappear into, losing the light forever. Carrie's coffin. Laughing,
lively, tomboy Carrie. Gone forever. Not even a church service to say
farewell, just a quick embarrassed burial, tucked away in a far corner
where no one could see.

Jason was already there, standing next to the casket, his head bowed in
thought. Rob nodded to the vicar, then went and stood next to his
childhood friend. Close up the casket seemed thin, as if the water
dripping on it from above would soon seep through, and where there
should have been ornate brass fittings, there were only standard clasps,
holding it shut. His heart was heavy as he stared. ?God, not much of a
way to go, is it? She deserved better than this.?

Jason's eyes burned when they met his, his tone sarcastic. ?Sorry, mate,
it may not be up to your standards, but it was all I could afford.?

Rob could have kicked himself for being so stupid. Of course, someone
had to pay for the funeral, but it just hadn't crossed his mind, not
with everything else that had been going on. He watched Jason, whose
gaze had returned to Carrie's coffin, filled with anger and resentment,
and felt the guilt wash over him. Jase hadn't forgotten. Jason had taken
care of it, just like he had the judge, and just like he'd taken care of
him on the afternoon in the attic, despite everything that happened
afterwards. Jason always had been the strong one, even if he didn't give
himself credit for it. Jason had always been good at looking out for
everyone. Rob searched his mind for the best thing to say, but his mouth
opened before he'd found the words.

187

?Do you want me to chip in? I should. She was my friend, too.?

Jason spat out his laugh. ?No thanks. There are some things I can afford
to do by myself, even if they don't quite meet with your approval.?He
paused, and his voice softened. ?Anyway, Carrie was never really a
diamonds-and-flowers kind of girl, was she??

?No. She wasn't.?

Looking up, some of the anger had gone from Jason's face. ?I take it you
haven't had a call from Gina then??Rob shook his head, and Jason
sniffed. ?Yeah, well, I didn't expect her to give a shit, so I'm not
really surprised.?

A flash of light caught Rob in the corner of his eye, and following it
he spotted a small group of journalists outside the gates. ?Those guys
really have no respect, do they??

Jason smiled. ?What, worried about your reputation? You didn't have to
come, you know.?

Tired of feeling like scum, Rob's anger flared. ?Tell me, just when did
you turn into such an arsehole, Jason??

The other man turned, his face only inches away from Rob's. ?I don't
know. Not long after you, I should imagine, Mr. Bigshot.?

Rob couldn't believe they were acting like such a pair of kids. ?Oh,
lose the chip on your shoulder, Jase.?He could see Kelly and her father
walking toward them, two solemn figures in black. He didn't have the
energy to argue with Jason. And he didn't want to either. You've missed
him, haven't you? Even if you don't want to admit it.

?Look, you're right. I probably am an arsehole. In fact, I'm pretty sure
I am. I didn't even think about the cost of the funeral. I don't want to
fight with you. Not here. Not while we're saying good-bye to Carrie. Truce??

Jason gave him a reluctant smile. ?Deal.?He looked up at Kelly, who was
only a few feet away now. ?Here comes your girlfriend.?

Moving away slightly as Kelly linked her arm in his, Rob watched as Jack
and Jason nodded at each other, and

188

he got the feeling that their paths had probably crossed several times
over the years. He wondered momentarily why Jack Hollingsworth was even
here. What interest could he have in Carrie? But then, he'd been a
policeman in town for a lot of years, and maybe the station had asked
him to come as their representative. Maybe he'd just come along with
Kelly, but there must be pleasanter ways of passing the time than
spending it at a murderess's funeral.

The vicar had started his short service, his voice deadened by the
weather, and it seemed that all too soon the coffin was lowered into the
ground. Could it really be Carrie in there? It shouldn't have ended like
this, not for her. Following Kelly, he scooped up a handful of earth and
dropped it into the dark hole, hating the finality of its sound hitting
the wood. He felt a squeeze on his arm, and looked down at the blond
head, hair getting wavy in the damp, despite huddling close to him under
his umbrella.

?Are you okay?'

He nodded, taking in the sight of her flawless skin, perfect even
without makeup, like a canvas as yet untouched. ?Do you want to come
over for dinner later??

She smiled in agreement, and it was like a small, bright light in the
darkness that seemed to surround him. God, he needed her. He needed her
calmness, her stability.

Glancing over at Jason, he saw that he was still standing by the grave,
staring into it thoughtfully. As if sensing Rob watching him, he looked
up and signaled him over.

?Wait here for me. I won't be a minute.?Leaving Kelly with the umbrella,
he joined Jason, who didn't look up, his voice quiet.

?I think we should go up to the house and take a look around.?

?Well, we can try, but I don't think that solicitor's going to be very
willing to give us the keys.?

Jason laughed and this time there was genuine humor in it. Rob had
forgotten how good a sound it was. ?My, my,

189

Robster, haven't you grown up all prim and proper? Who said anything
about getting the keys??

Rob stared at him. ?You want to break in??

?I can't think of any other way to get a private viewing. Don't look so
shocked. It's not like anyone lives there or anything.?He paused for a
moment. ?Anyway, we owe it to Carrie. What happened to her, the judge,
the rape, your crazy computer--whatever Gina's doing, it's all linked to
Syracousse. We might as well take a look.?He looked straight into Rob's
eyes, and Rob suddenly remembered how intense that blue could be when
Jason was set on something. ?I know Carrie would have done it for you.
No hesitation.?

Rob sighed and knew Jason was right. ?Okay, we'll do it. When were you
thinking??

?Tonight.?

Shaking his head, Rob glanced at Kelly. ?Can't do it tonight. I've got
plans.?

Jason had followed his eyes. ?She grew up to be a looker, didn't she??He
nudged Rob in the ribs. ?But I'd have thought she'd be a bit bright for
you. A bit old too, from what the papers tell me.?

Rob knew Jason was only joking, but he couldn't help the surge of
embarrassment that came with the feeling that the whole world knew his
life story. The worst parts, anyway. He glanced at the journalists
getting ready to snap him leaving. No, it seemed that there was rarely
any time for reporting the good bits in people's lives. He looked back
at Jason. ?If we haven't heard from Gina by tomorrow night, we'll go
then, okay??

Leaving Jason at the graveside, he walked back to Kelly and her father,
taking the woman's hand, before heading out of the cemetery and back to
life, the echoes of the dead following them.

190

The candles on the pine table had burned halfway to the bottom by the
time Kelly put down her knife and fork and leaned back in the chair. She
wasn't sure whether it was the warm glow of the flickering light, the
half bottle of red wine she'd managed to drink or just the company that
was making her so relaxed, but whichever it was, sitting here in Rob's
house she felt totally at ease. She grinned at her host. ?That was the
best spaghetti I've had in ages. I don't seem to have time to cook
properly these days, and Tabby's more of a fish finger and peas girl,
but then I guess they all are at that age.?

?Have you had enough? I've made enough to feed an army, so there's
plenty more if you want some. It's the only thing I know how to cook, so
I tend to get a bit ambitious with my quantities.?

She sighed and patted her stomach. ?I'm absolutely full up, thank you.
But if the food's this good, I might eat here more often.? She said it
as a joke, but as Rob stood up and gathered their plates, his eyes were
soft when they met hers.

191

?I hope you will.?He smiled, and she felt a quiver in her belly. ?Do you
fancy an Irish coffee to finish? I'm pretty good with those, too.?

Nodding, she watched him as he moved behind the breakfast bar and
abandoned the plates to fill up the kettle, liking the way his body
moved. She could imagine there were a few things Rob Black was pretty
good at, and where her mind was at, most of them were in the bedroom. He
was too damned good-looking, that was for sure. But the looks were
resistible. There'd been plenty of handsome men in her life, and most of
them had been disappointing, vain and dull. But Rob, well, what
frightened her about Rob was that she found she liked him more and more
each time she saw him, and he was so easy to talk to. He was interested
in her. You want him. You want him for keeps, and that's a dangerous way
to feel. Just remember what he called himself--the king of the
meaningless fling. If that doesn't tell you the way it is, then you're
dumber than you thought. She pushed the internal reprimand away, her
head warm and woozy, in no mood for caution. Something about this felt
right, and so what if the childhood crush she'd had was now close to
becoming something so much more? Life was for living, and she was tired
of being on her own.

As the kettle clicked itself off, she tilted her head. ?Where's your
coffee machine??

Rob froze for a moment as he took the cream out of the fridge. ?I broke
the pot.?Kelly wasn't sure whether it was her imagination, but his words
seemed a little sharp. Was he thinking about Carrie?

?Are you okay about today? You haven't talked about it at all.?

He looked up at her as he poured the topping on the coffees, and even in
the dim light, she could see so much sadness in his eyes. It looked like
it had been there forever. How does he hide it so well? How does he live
with

192

it? She had a feeling that there was so much more to Rob than met the
eye, and she wanted to reach those parts, to understand him. He didn't
speak, and she felt slightly uncomfortable.

?I'm sorry. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I
should learn to keep my big mouth shut. I think it's the teacher in me,
always checking if everyone's okay.?

He shook his head. ?No. I think I do want to talk about it.?He paused,
seeking out the right words. ?I've thought about Carrie a lot over the
past couple of weeks. More than since I left town. Well, since I grew
up, anyway.? The vulnerability in his soft voice made her ache inside.
?And it's going to sound weird, but it doesn't feel like we buried her
today. Not the Carrie I remember. I guess I'm grieving for the girl I
knew, and just wishing I'd taken the time to find out about the woman
she became. I felt like I was at a stranger's funeral today. It was the
funeral of an adult I didn't know, and maybe if I had known her, then
she wouldn't have ended up like this.?

It was good to hear him opening up, and Kelly smiled gently. ?Do you
remember what you told me about the boys in my class and what they did
to Sharnice? There are some things you just can't control, no matter how
much you wish you could. I think Carole-Anne was a very unhappy woman. I
don't think you could have helped her solve her problems. Sometimes,
terrible things just happen.?

She stood and took the coffee cups from him. ?Come on. Let's go sit in
front of the fire.?

She led the way into the lounge, put their drinks on the small table in
the center of the room and sat down close to the hearth, tucking her
knee-length skirt carefully under her. Still standing, Rob's face
clouded over, his eyes fixed on her with concern.

She touched his leg. ?Are you okay??

He sat down on the rug, about a foot behind her. ?Um,

193

this might sound silly, but could you move back a bit, away from the fire??

?Sure.?She wriggled backwards until she was level with him, and picked
her coffee up to take a sip. Rob stared into the fire and she didn't
intrude on his silence.

Finally, when he spoke, he kept his gaze on the flames and his voice was
barely above a whisper. ?Jason got his scars from an open fire. They go
all the way up to his elbows, you know. His hands got burned the worst,
but the scars go right up his arms.?He paused and Kelly watched his jaw
muscles clenching and unclenching in the side of his face. She resisted
the urge to touch him, to try to soothe him back to calmness.

?Gina used to have a dog. A golden retriever. A big, soppy clumsy thing.
Jason loved that dog. Carrie and I did too, but not like Jason. One
afternoon, near the end of that summer, it stumbled into the fire.? He
smiled bitterly, as if at a private joke. ?I sat there on the sofa and
watched as it burned, too shocked to move, unable to believe an animal
could scream like that, knowing I should do something, should try to
help it. But it was like I froze, like my mind couldn't accept what was
happening. Not Jason, though. He just leapt forward and stuck his arms
into the flames, trying to pull the poor mutt out. He didn't hesitate.?

Kelly gazed at the glowing reds and oranges, so beautiful and deadly.
The air between her and Rob seemed heavy, almost oppressive, and she had
the feeling this was something he hadn't talked about in a long time, if
ever.

Her question came out in a whisper. ?Was the dog okay??

?No. No, it died.?He let out an almost wistful breath. ?I seem to have
been thinking about that dog a lot recently.?

Kelly watched him, not really sure she understood what he was saying,
wondering what was the cause of the weight he seemed to carry. He seemed
to have scars of his own, deep inside, not visible like Jason's, but
real all the

194

same. She gently reached out her hand and turned his face toward hers,
stroking his cheek. ?I think you need to take your mind off things.?
Leaning forward, she kissed him, softly at first, her tongue hesitantly
meeting his, savoring the warmth of his mouth, and then becoming more
urgent as she heard his breath quickening.

One hand came up to her face, his fingers caressing down to her neck as
he moved forward, taking control, pushing her backwards until she was
stretched out on the rug, him lying next to her. She moaned slightly as
his mouth moved down her body, his saliva leaving a cool sensation in
his wake as his fingers deftly undid the buttons of her blouse. She
could hear his heavy breaths mingling with her own, and she reached down
and felt for him through his trousers, enjoying the solidness there and
the groan that came up to her from his mouth as he teased her nipple,
letting her know that his arousal was as great as hers. His touch was
getting rougher as his need increased, and pushing her skirt up around
her waist, he slid one hand into her panties. Her head almost exploded
as he came into contact with the wetness there. Oh God, it felt good, so
good, and pushing against his fingers, eager to have him, any part of
him, inside her, she felt his body shuddering as he slid farther down
the rug, one hand squeezing her buttock, the other pushing the thin lace
aside to make way for the heat of his mouth.

As much as her body ached to feel his tongue and lips on that part of
her, that wasn't what she wanted, not this time, so she reached down and
pulled him up, until his beautiful face was above hers, his eyes glazed
with lust, confused to have been stopped.

?What's the matter??

She reached down and pulled at his belt buckle, her insides contracting
at being delayed. ?I want you inside me. I want to come with you inside
me.?Tugging at his zipper, releasing him, she ran her hand down his full
length, and he needed no more encouragement. Pulling her pants

195

away, she guided him inside, arching her back and feeling the beginning
of her orgasm as she rose to meet him, wanting him deep inside, not
wanting him to be gentle, just wanting them both to let go and lose
themselves. There would be time for gentle lovemaking later. But not now.

?Fuck me, Rob.?She whispered into his ear, before biting down on the
skin of his shoulder. ?Fuck me till I come.?

Moaning above her, Rob tangled his hands up with her hair as he
surrendered, thrusting himself into her hard and fast, all control gone,
until she screamed as the orgasm ripped through her, her muscles
throbbing around him, not wanting to let him go, keeping him inside. A
few moments later, his body stiffened as he pushed further inside her,
all his muscles clenched as his body caught up with hers, releasing
himself, his fluids mixing with hers before he collapsed on her, all
energy spent.

They lay there in silence for a while, before their bodies stirred
again. And this time, it was slow and gentle.

196

The bad man's asleep. Time to go, Tabby.

Her eyes opened reluctantly, dazed and confused in the darkness, but the
words, clear and musical in her head made her pull herself upright,
pushing the covers away. She sat there for a second, mouth moving
silently, before she managed to mumble, ?I'm tired,? unsure whom she was
talking to, if anyone at all. Pushing her wild hair out of her face, all
she wanted to do was lie back down and curl up under the duvet with her
teddy bear. It was all dark now, and she didn't like it. The dream must
have woken her up, and now she was sad, wanting to be back there.

This is your only chance. Don't you want to find me?

Her bleary eyes widened, and she shivered sleepiness away as the voice
tickled inside her. Yes, yes, she wanted to find the house and play
there in the sunshine. Oh yes, she wanted it more than anything.
Wondering whether she was still asleep, still dreaming, she pulled a
sweater awkwardly over her nightie, her hair rising with static, and
then sat on the bed to tug on yesterday's socks, which

197

had been abandoned on the floor. Her excitement was starting to grow.
Maybe it wasn't a dream; maybe it was really happening. She was going to
find the house, her house, just as the invisible friend had always said
she would. As the seconds ticked by, she felt more and more awake, not
like in a dream awake, but proper awake, like in the mornings. Pulling
on her leggings, not able to cope with the buttons on her jeans by
herself, she smiled in the darkness that didn't seem so scary anymore.
She was awake, and her invisible house friend was here!

Scrabbling under the bed quickly, still not quite convinced that
something didn't live there, she dragged out her slippers, and then
paused, her small brow furrowing in the gloom.

?What about Mummy??she whispered to the emptiness. There was a resonance
inside her.

Mummy's not here, is she? She's found someone else to love. Someone her
own age. Someone who won't tie her down. She's left you with the bad
man. The bad man with secrets. I think she's forgetting you already.

Tabby paused, one slipper on, one still in her small hand. Mummy
wouldn't do that. She wouldn't forget her; she couldn't. Her body ached
with hurt and confusion. But her friend had been right about granddad,
she'd seen it in his face, and there was something different about Mummy
now. She'd seen her smiling all on her own for no reason, and she didn't
want to play as much anymore, and when she did it was like she wasn't
really there at all, but off in a place of her own. A place without her.
Her bottom lip started to wobble, and then the soft tune played in her
head, soothing her.

I won't ever forget you, Tabby. Come with me to the house. We'll have so
much fun. We'll have an adventure. We'll never be lonely again.

The music was too lovely to resist, too beautiful to be wrong, and she
picked up Mr. Pickles--she couldn't have an adventure without
him--before carefully pulling open

198

her bedroom door and creeping down the stairs, clinging on to the
railings, afraid to slip and fall.

Not letting go of her bear, she took her red padded coat from the hook
and pushed her arms through the sleeves, wrapping it around her instead
of trying to do up the zipper. Reaching up on tip-toes for the knob, she
puffed for a few seconds as her clumsy fingers slid over it, before
turning the catch and pulling the front door open.

The cold, damp air swirled invisibly around her legs, and staring out
into the night, she felt hesitation working its way through her. It was
so dark out there; too dark for her even to see, and fear flickered in
her eyes. ?Is it far?? Her voice was small, and as much as she wanted to
find her house, she couldn't imagine getting there. Not alone. Not in
this blackness.

Not very far at all. And you won't be alone. Me and Mr. Pickles will be
with you. And we won't let anything bad happen.

Hugging her bear close and feeling for the notes playing inside her,
Tabby took a deep breath and stepped through the doorway, turning and
pushing her fingers through the letter box to close it behind her. There
was a finality to the sound of the latch clicking, separating her from
her world, and she stood and stared at the door for a few moments,
before her feet started to follow the music. There was no going back now.

199

The wind played merrily on the long stretch of London Road that led from
Gallows Hill to Streatford, snapping and snarling at Jason as he strode
head down, his fists balled up in the pockets of his worn leather
jacket. Maybe he should have taken the back way, through the houses and
coming out on Dulverton Road, but this was the better-lit route and the
last thing he needed was some neighborhood watch fanatic reporting him
for suspicious behavior. Even going this way, if he got stopped by a
police car cruising on its rounds, he'd have a hard time explaining what
he was doing heading into the village at eleven-thirty on a weekday
night. But then, they probably wouldn't bother stopping anyone but the
likes of him. Even though he hadn't been in trouble with the law for at
least a couple of years now, memories died hard in Streatford. He knew
that better than most.

His breath hung in the air before him for a few moments before dancing
off into the night, and his nose ached a little, letting him know that
it was turning red. The rain of earlier had faded into a bitter chill,
and the

200

idea that had been so great when it came to him an hour ago, now just
seemed foolish. Just what the hell did he think he was doing anyway?
He'd agreed with Rob that they'd leave it till tomorrow before they went
to the house, so why had he decided to go down and take a look tonight?
Suddenly, out in the cold, it didn't make much sense.

His lungs felt raw as he panted, and he quickened his pace in an attempt
to warm up. As much as the cold made him question having left his flat,
he knew that if he turned around and went back he'd remember well enough
why he'd gone out in the first place. He was sick of sitting in that
flat with nothing but booze for company, sick of thinking about the
past. In fact, he was pretty much sick of thinking. It seemed that his
brain had done nothing but turn over and over during the past couple of
weeks. And anyway, he wasn't intending to break into Syracousse or
anything, he'd do that with Robster tomorrow night--hey, hey, it might
even feel like old times--no, all he wanted to do now was take a look
from the outside. Watch it for a while. What he expected to see, he
didn't know, but it had to be better than staying inside and going
crazy. And he had a theory to check out.

Sometime this afternoon, somewhere between his second Jack Daniels and
his fifth, a thought had taken seed in his mind, and it had been growing
there ever since. What if someone was in the house? Maybe Gina had come
back. No one had been up there since the rape, so she easily could be
there without anyone knowing. That solicitor bloke wouldn't tell anyone,
and if Gina were there, then maybe that would explain the shit that was
happening. If she were this close, then maybe she could be doing it.
Maybe she'd learned to control that weird power she had, maybe it had
gotten stronger. So many maybes. And why the hell would Gina hole
herself up in a house she'd abandoned for so many years? Even if she had
come back to

201

her family home, why all the secrecy? It didn't make sense, but then
none of this craziness made sense.

He reached the dark hulk of The Plough and noticed the welcoming bright
lights were switched off, no after-hours drinking happening tonight;
Jason crossed the deserted street and headed down the narrow alley
leading to Horsefair Green. Within a few minutes he'd crossed the wet
grass and took the leafy far turn onto Ousebank Way; Retirement Row, as
it was known to those locals under forty. The streetlights were few and
dim this far away from the village center, and they cast long, distorted
shadows across the pavement of the wide street.

By the time he reached the towpath across the tiny bridge, the darkness
had swallowed him whole and he could barely see his feet as they moved
beneath him. The walk having warmed him slightly, he unclenched his
fists and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one, the
burning end giving off no light, saving its brightness for itself. Not
that the dark bothered Jason. It never had. The dark always hid the
things you should be afraid of, and anything that did that was all right
by him.

As he turned into the track leading down to the house, his stomach
fluttered a little with excitement, and with the familiar crunch of
gravel under his feet, for a few moments it seemed as if he was twelve
again, heading down with his friends to the comfort at Syracousse. Why
hadn't he been down here in all these years? Why hadn't he even come
down to take a look?

Throwing his cigarette butt down and grinding it out with his next step,
he sniffed hard, listening to the deafening sound of his own breath,
rough in his ears. This was no time to get sentimental. He hadn't come
down here because he couldn't face the memories, didn't want to face the
memories. It was better to put them away and try to forget. And in the
main he'd done that quite successfully,

202

despite the way they'd itched at the back of his mind, eager for
attention. Yeah, he'd locked it all up: Syracousse, Rob, Carrie, Gina
and even poor Teacher. He'd put them somewhere out of easy reach. Until
the rape. Until Carrie. Until Robster came back.

This was no time to get maudlin. He'd spend half an hour or so looking
around, and then he'd head home. The adventure could wait till tomorrow
night. Stupid though it sounded, he suddenly felt as if coming down here
alone hadn't been the best idea in the world; whoever had said there was
safety in numbers had a point, and the idea of having Robster with him
was a comforting thought. But then, he'd always felt good around Rob; he
could admit that to himself out here in the open air with no one to hear it.

Looking down in the gloom, he paused for a second, not sure whether to
trust his eyes. It was pitch black under the overcast sky, but he could
see his feet clearly. More than that, they seemed to be glowing,
reflecting a blue-white light. Weird, too weird. Laughing slightly he
looked up, puzzled as to where the light could be coming from. His
breath caught in his throat as he stared, unable to take in what he was
seeing. What could do that? What the fuck could do that?

The house was in view up ahead of him and it seemed to be shimmering,
radiating light like a beacon, as if it had swallowed the moon, and its
brightness was seeping out through the tiny gaps in the brickwork and
window frames. What the hell was going on? There was nothing natural
about it, nothing at all, and he felt a chill run through him that had
nothing at all to do with the cold air surrounding him.

Standing there, his breath coming fast now, he knew it was time to go
home, or better still, straight to Rob's. They needed to talk about
this, oh boy did they. Things were getting seriously freaky, but he had
the feeling that at the same time they were getting clearer. Veils were
lifting

203

in his mind. Carrie was right. They had gotten it wrong. His mind
sparkled as if he'd been hit by a high-voltage shot of electricity. I've
been asleep for such a long time. Thinking in a daze. Did it make me
that way?

?You came down here, didn't you, Carrie??he whispered aloud, still
staring at his childhood refuge. ?You came down here just to make sure.
I think you suspected all along.? He paused, a wave of grief flooding
his system. ?Clever, clever girl.?

He was about to turn, to turn and get the hell out of there, when
something up ahead caught his eye. The small shape was visible by its
absence, a patch of moving blackness surrounded by a halo of light, and
he squinted, taking a few steps forward, his curiosity overcoming his
eagerness to get away. It was too big to be a fox or a stray sheep and
anyway, it was moving all wrong for an animal. It's moving like a child.
His feet started to walk faster, his synapses sending panic signals of
realization to them before the thought found its way into words,
flashing in his mind. It is a child. What the hell is a child doing out
here in the middle of the night? The bobbing figure disappeared into an
enormous shadow thrown down across the track like a huge black cape, and
Jason broke into a sprint, all thoughts of home or Rob vanished in a
second. It's the old oak tree, that's where she is. The old oak tree by
the gate. Oh shit, she's going into the house, please God don't let her
go into the house ...

?Wait!?he shouted, as his sneakers threw gravel up behind him. ?Wait!
Don't go in there! It's not safe! It's not safe!?

Clutching Mr. Pickles so tightly to her chest that she was sure he would
be squashed forever, Tabby kept her eyes fixed on the brightness ahead
of her. The coldness had seeped up through her slippers from the ground,
her socks damp and icy next to her soles, and the big toe of her left
foot throbbed painfully from where she had

204

stumbled a hundred yards or so back. She didn't look down though, afraid
that if she did, the light would leave her, and that thought terrified
her more than the threat of a broken ankle or a bruised toe.

She'd been so scared walking down here in the night, so scared she could
barely breathe. She'd never walked anywhere on her own before, and even
with her bear and the music inside her that's how she'd felt, all alone
in the terrible blackness that was eating her body up like it had the
trees and the pretty fields and the river, replacing them with something
else she couldn't see, something horrible that lived in the darkness,
stretching out for ever and ever, licking its lips and watching.

Despite the reassurance of her invisible friend, when she'd been halfway
down the gravel track she'd almost turned and fled, back to her house if
she could find it, or back to anyplace where there was light to scare
away the monsters. Then all of a sudden, when the panic was about to
explode inside her, there it was, right there ahead of her. The house.
Her house; all lit up to show her the way, waiting for her to get there.
Oh, it was so beautiful, glittering and sparkling as she got closer and
closer--so much prettier than in the dreams--but although the sight of
it had calmed her down a little, she still wished it were daytime,
bright and sunny and friendly. But at last she was nearly there, just a
few more yards to go and then she'd be safe. Safe from everything.

Hearing the man shouting behind her, Tabby let out a short yelp and
whirled round, her heart bursting through her ribcage with fright. Not
so far away someone was running at her, running quickly, screaming at
her, a huge moving shape, lunging forward. It's the monster. It's
escaped from the dark. The monster's hungry, and he's coming for me.
Turning back, scared to take her eyes from the thing following her, but
wanting to get to the house--get to the gate, that's what the tune was
playing, get to the

205

gate--she hurried onward, wishing her numbed feet could go faster,
small, terrified tears forming in the corners of her eyes, blurring her
limited vision.

Brushing through the thin branches that felt like old ladies' arms
clutching at her, tugging at her hair, she reached for the wood of the
gate and grabbed it with one tiny hand, the other holding Mr. Pickles
secure. She pushed the gate forward and it swung open, as the sound of
footsteps hammered the gravel so much nearer now. A silvery haze hung
over the step across, separating her from the house, as if a barrier of
water was reaching up from the ground, fluid and bright, not quite
allowing a view through it. Tabby stared, unsure, not knowing whether to
step through, but the monster was almost on her. She sobbed aloud, her
fear confusing her.

Don't be afraid, Tabby. Come on in. I'm waiting for you.

And the monster's nearly here.

The tree behind her rustled, and she could hear the raw breathing behind
her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she jumped forward, passing through the
warm, tickling air of the wall and into the glorious sunshine beyond,
safe from the grasping touch she'd felt on the back of her jacket.

Can't let her go into the house, can't let her get there ... The little
girl was so close that he could make out the yellow ears of the bear she
was clinging to and the long curls that hung loose from her head. She
pushed open the gate and seemed to hesitate there for a moment. That's
it, baby, stay there, please stay there. His breath ripped his lungs as
he pushed himself, no energy left for yelling, through the old oak tree
that seemed eager to hold him back. She was so close, so close, and he
could almost feel her lifting one tiny foot, a toddler's innocent foot,
as she moved toward the insane light. Lunging forward, his jump
simultaneous with hers, he reached out to grab her,

206

feeling the soft material of her jacket slipping past his treacherous
fingers, and then she was gone, vanished into the garden, through the
liquid air protecting it.

Alone and exhausted in the gateway, sweat freezing against him beneath
his clothes, Jason let out a wail of frustration as the blue-white light
sucked itself back into the house again, taking the child with it.

For a moment there was only the blinding darkness again as he stood, his
soul empty, on the threshold of the gate he'd crossed so many times as a
child, the wonder he had felt then replaced now with vehement hatred, as
he stared at the building, the bricks and mortar as much a part of his
life as his own flesh and blood. As he raged inside, at himself, at
Syracousse, at all the memories, the air around him changed, charging
itself up with electricity, crackling with it.

The wind howled around him, whipping him painfully. What now? What the
fuck now? Not sure how much more he could take, Jason watched with
disbelief as the image of the house began to distort. It's like a
trapped bubble of air under the water. The blue light's going to bubble
outward. That's what it's doing. It's getting ready to attack.

The words were clear in his head, but he stood there frozen, unable to
tear himself away. There was a rumbling deep in the ground as the bubble
exploded, the energy surging outward like the Shockwave of a nuclear
blast; powerful, angry and full of vengeance.

He managed a weak ?Oh shit?before the power wave hit him, lifting him
roughly from his feet, sending him tumbling through the air, and away
from the house. I should have waited. I should have waited for Robster
... He hit the gravel with a sickening crunch and pain exploded all over
his body for a brief glorious moment of life, before the world went
black from the inside. The only thing he was grateful for, in those last
agonizing

207

seconds, was that he was facing away from Syracousse. He didn't want to
die with it in his eyes. But then, he thought as the darkness took over,
he didn't really want to die at all.

207 208

It was nearly nine when Rob reached for the phone to call Michael. He'd
been up about an hour, clearing away from the night before, playing the
evening's events over in his head like a lovesick kid. At least thinking
about making love with Kelly was a lot more pleasant than trying to make
sense of the madness that was going on around him, but he had the rest
of the day to ponder over that, and at the moment he was just enjoying
the memory of soft skin and a passion that had surprised him. Yeah, she
was special; there was no doubt about that. And what's she going to
think of you if you get caught breaking and entering tonight? How are
you going to explain that? He shrugged the thought off like an itchy
sweater, irritating to the touch.

In the broad light of day, after such a fantastic night, he was in half
a mind to cancel with Jason. It was a crazy idea, and he was getting too
old for that kind of shit; they both were. All he wanted to do tonight
was meet up with Kelly again, and he couldn't see what could be gained
by traipsing around that abandoned house, freezing their

209

arses off, when he could be curled up with a beautiful, fascinating woman.

He'd dialed his agent's number before he realized the line was empty of
sound, and after a brief moment of confusion, remembered that he hadn't
plugged the phone back in before going to bed last night. He smiled,
laughing slightly. What would Kelly have made of that? No doubt she'd
have figured it was some kind of slimy ?not wanting to be disturbed
while getting my action? move common amongst the male of the species,
and he'd been guilty of using that one on occasions in the past. But not
this time. This time, he just hadn't wanted Jason throwing a spanner in
the works by calling him with more tales of the unexpected.

Sliding the connector into the socket in the hallway, the immediate
ringing made him jump. Maybe Michael was getting telepathic. His heart
beat quicker. Or maybe it was Gina. Hurrying back to the kitchen, he
reached across the breakfast bar for the receiver.

?Hello??

?Thank God you're there, I've been ringing all night. I even came around
and knocked on the door, but I didn't get an answer. I need to know if
you saw anything strange on your way home last night, anything at all.
Maybe just someone looking suspicious. Tabby's gone missing, and we
don't know where she is or if anyone's taken her.?

It took him a couple of seconds before he realized the rambling,
disjointed voice on the other end belonged to Jack Hollingsworth. He
sounded exhausted and he wasn't making much sense, but alarm bells
started ringing in Rob's head with the mention of the little girl he had
yet to meet.

?Slow down, Jack.?He kept his own voice as calm as possible. ?Did you
say Tabby's gone missing??

?Yes.?The old man's voice seemed anchored to the weight of that word of
acceptance, as if it were dragging him down with it.

210

?I'll be there in five minutes.?Slamming the phone into

its holder, he grabbed his jacket from the kitchen door, shoved his
cigarettes and keys into his pockets, and was

out of the house before he'd gotten his arms through the sleeves.

The cold air conflicted with the heat inside him as he ran down
Dulverton Road toward the crossroads, the muscles in his legs aching as
they warmed up, but he ignored them. He had a crazy feeling inside
telling him that somehow all this was his fault, that he was
contaminated with something bad, and now it was taking its revenge on
him for having the gall to think that he could be happy. Not stopping to
check for traffic, he darted across London Road and headed into
Horsefair Green, ignoring the swearing and strange looks from passers-by
as he barged through them. His run eased up to a walk as the police car
came into view, making Jack's message a reality. Oh Christ, Tabby really
had gone missing.

Panting from his sprint, he pushed past the policeman who opened the
door and found Kelly in the small kitchen, seated at a tiny pine table.
Jack had been sitting with her, but he got up and moved to the hallway
to quietly speak to the officer who had followed Rob in, after briefly
introducing them. Rob sat in the vacant chair and took Kelly's hand and
gently rubbed it, his insides aching at the sight of the tracks of spent
tears down her skin, and the hollow emptiness of her eyes. She glanced
almost through Rob as she spoke.

?The first thing they did was search the house. Can you believe that? As
if I hadn't done that before I called them. As if I didn't know all her
hiding places. She could be anywhere out there, and they want to search
the house.?

Rob followed her gaze to a crude, childish painting of a house pinned up
on the wall. Tabby must have done it. ?What happened? When did she go
missing??

?She was gone when I got home.?She swallowed a small sob. ?I should
never have stayed out so late. Maybe

211

she wanted to know where I was and went looking for me. I should never
have gone out. Never.?

A small fresh tear trickled away from her eye and Rob carefully wiped it
away. ?It's not your fault, Kelly. The police will find her. She won't
have gone far.?He hoped his voice sounded more confident than he felt.
It seemed that the news was filled with stories about missing children
these days, and not many of them had a happy ending. This will be
different, he thought firmly as his eyes wandered over the painting.
Things like that don't happen in places like Streatford. Still holding
Kelly's hand, he looked at the picture quizzically. Something about it
was vaguely unsettling him, and he couldn't figure out exactly what.

Kelly rested her head on her spare hand, her voice low and dead as she
spoke to nobody in particular. ?She took her coat. She took her red
coat. Why would she have taken her coat??

Rob got up and went to Jack, who was leaning against the doorframe. He
spoke quietly, even though he doubted Kelly would be listening. She was
lost in a private world of fear and grief that no one could penetrate.
Not yet, anyway. But when she was ready, he'd be there. ?Was there any
sign of a break-in??

The older man shook his head. ?No. Wherever she's gone, it looks like
she went there on her own. There's no sign of forced entry, and I'm sure
no one came in the house. I would have heard them. It would have woken
me up.? His eyes bore into Rob's, the honesty of the pain and guilt in
them, hitting the writer hard. Jack squeezed his lips tight, his gaze
slipping away. ?It would have woken me up.?

Rob nodded, awkward in the other man's emotion, and patted him on the
shoulder. He didn't think Jack Hollingsworth was a man who gave way to
his emotions very often, but he seemed pretty close now. He wished there
was something he could say, but he knew better than most that there were
no words that could give someone

212

peace from their internal guilt, whether they deserved to be carrying it
with them or not.

His eyes were drawn to the painting again and his brain tingled. There
was something familiar about it, something real in the design that the
young hand had tried to recreate. Instead of trying to focus on it,
bringing the image into sharpness, he let his eyes blur, seeing only the
whole and none of the splotches of detail. Suddenly, he seemed unable to
see anything else, nothing in the room around him was clear as the
crinkled poster paint house on the wall. Of course. It had to be. Could
there ever have been a different answer? With the knowledge came a
moment of calm, followed by a surge of anger.

?Did Tabby paint that??

Something like ice in his voice made Kelly look up. She smiled sadly.
?She said it was her house. Where she was going to live one day.?Her
face twisted slightly and she bit down on her lip, forcing herself to
breathe. ?What does it matter? She's gone.?

Rob stared at her. ?I think I know where she is.?His voice was getting
louder as his excitement rose. ?That house is Syracousse. Maybe she's
gone there.?

Kelly's eyes glowed life again as she pushed her chair away, hope oozing
from her pores. Rob pulled on his jacket, ready to move. Jack
Hollingsworth was still staring at the painting, his lip shaking as he
muttered. ?It can't be. It can't be. But she couldn't know. Nobody knows.?

Kelly had barged past them and was tugging at Officer Keery's sleeve,
dragging him to the door, and Rob shook Jack, bringing him around. He
didn't like losing patience with the emotionally drained pensioner, but
they needed to move and they needed to do it straight away. The old man
looked as if he'd been slapped in the face.

?You go in the car with Kelly. I'll run down the back way, it's probably
quicker.?He looked thoughtfully at the other man for a moment, at the
way his eyes trembled slightly at the edges. ?Are you okay, Jack??

213

The gray irises came back sharply into focus, their strength a reminder
of the formidable man who lived inside the weakening body. ?Yes, sorry.
I'm fine. It's just been a long night, and I'm not as young as I used to
be.?This time it was he who firmly gripped Rob and pushed him toward the
door. ?You get running. We'll see you up there, and let's just hope to
God we find her.?

213 214

Rob turned his back on the figures clambering into the Panda car and
headed over the back of the Green and onto Ousebank Way, sending a
small, silent prayer to a God he didn't believe in that everything was
going to be okay. That Tabby would be fine. That all this would be
finished once and for all.

His legs were burning as he turned off the towpath, his feet pounding
the slippery gravel with an almost steady rhythm, lungs tearing at his
breath for more oxygen as he sucked desperately at the air. Jesus, it
seemed like all he'd done today was run, but there was no stopping now,
no matter how much he might want to. Tabby was at the house. Tabby was
at Syracousse.

The thought was a cold certainty in his mind, and he knew it was right.
He knew it the same way he'd known there was no way to save Teacher back
on that summer's afternoon when the dog had slid on the carpet against
his will in front of the four pairs of frightened eyes, making the world
tilt forever.

215

Passing the old iron gates without glancing at them, without even
thinking to pause there, Rob followed the wall as it curved away,
chasing the ghosts of his childhood footprints to the wooden back gate,
the secret entrance to the house of secrets; a child-sized doorway
hiding and waiting beneath the protective gaze of the old oak tree,
waiting for the touch of a tiny hand.

As he rounded the bend, his feet slowed to a stumble and then came to a
halt, eyes squinting to make sense of what they could see. What was
that? A body? Yes, that was it. A body too big to be a child's lying
across the track from the back gate. Hands on his hips he panted
heavily, a sweaty stitch starting in his side, as he became vaguely
aware of the sound of the police car coming up the drive behind him,
stopping on the other side of the bend at the adult entrance to Syracousse.

The air roared in his ears as he tried to control his breath. If the
body wasn't Tabby, then who else could it be? Who else would have come
to the tiny secret gate leading to the back garden? He stared at the
collapsed heap dressed in black, and his pupils widened. ?Oh Christ,?he
muttered, as his feet once more moved forward, slowly at first and then
gaining speed. ?Oh Christ, no.?

His legs unable to move fast enough, he sprinted the twenty meters or so
as if forcing himself through glue, until at last he fell to his knees
next to the twisted body of his childhood friend. Oh God, this wasn't a
normal way for a person to be lying. What could have made his legs stick
out like that?

?Oh, Jason. Oh no, Jase.?Shaking, trying to ignore the lips that were
too blue to be healthy, he carefully pulled a sleeve of the leather
jacket up on one outstretched arm to check for a pulse. The skin felt
cold and doughy. ?Come on, Jase, come on, please ...?

For a moment his fingers felt nothing except their own blood pumping
frantically through them as he cursed

216

under his breath, cursed Jason for coming on his own--for not fucking
waiting--and cursed him again for the grief that was now exploding inside.

?Damn you, Jason, you shit!?he screamed, barely aware of the policeman's
shadow falling across him, and then his whole body froze as he felt a
slow, desperately weak beat under his clenched fingers. He was alive, oh
Jesus, he was alive.

Tugging his own light jacket off, he covered Jason's awkward torso with
it as best he could. I think he's broken his back, I really think he's
broken his back, how can he have broken his back? He looked up at Keery.
?Call an ambulance. He's alive, but only just.?The policeman was ahead
of him, dialing already, and Rob wanted to punch the lack of hope from
the man's face and scream at him that he didn't know Jason, and Jason
was capable of surviving things that other people couldn't because Jason
was special, and Jason just couldn't go and die like other people did,
because there was so much left unsaid and undone and unadventured.

He was unaware of his own silent tears, until Kelly's shouts cut through
his panicked thoughts. Reluctantly looking up, he saw her on the other
side of the lane, holding up something small and muddy, with patches of
bright blue showing through. ?It's Tabby's slipper. My baby's
slipper!?Without waiting for anyone to answer, she disappeared through
the gate, screaming the little girl's name. Rob knew he should go with
her, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his friend so close to
death's door; he'd turned his back on Jason too many times in the past
to let him down now. His place was here, and anyway, Keery was already
darting after her, his mobile phone pressed to his ear as he shouted
instructions at someone on the other end, no doubt demanding the keys to
the house.

Looking around in a daze as he waited impatiently for the ambulance,
time seeming to have distorted on this crazy morning, Rob thought he was
alone and was

217

startled to see Jack Hollingsworth twenty or so yards behind him. In all
the madness, he'd forgotten the old man was with them, and it seemed as
if Jack had forgotten the rest of them were there too, so intently was
he staring at the house. Why hasn't he gone after Kelly? Why is he just
gazing at the house like that? What is he seeing?

Focusing on Jack, he was stunned to see the anguished look on the old
man's weathered face. Whatever memory he was reliving, it wasn't a
pleasant one. He looked as if he were in a turmoil of emotion, and Rob
wondered whether he would see tears making their way down the craggy
crevices of those cheeks if he were a little closer. Something tapped at
the back of his brain. What was it Jack had been muttering when Rob
realized that the painting was of Syracousse? What had he said? She
couldn't know. That was it. She couldn't know. What couldn't she know?
Surely no one else was consumed by crazy secrets untold outside this
house? Not an old guy like Jack.

The ambulance let out a small whoop as it came down the track, breaking
both men's reveries. Jack's face instantly masked over, becoming calm
and normal again, only the strain of the present situation tearing at
his features. Rob finally got to his feet, stepping backwards to let the
medics do their jobs, feeling his stomach churn as they slowly began to
fit neck and back braces to the unconscious Jason, their faces serious
and concentrated as they spoke loudly to the man who was in no position
to answer them.

Keery came back out through the side gate with one arm around Kelly,
leading her out and guiding her forward as she repeatedly glanced over
her shoulder. There was no sign of Tabby, and both Rob and Jack looked
questioningly at the policeman.

Keery shook his head. ?We can't find her as yet in the garden, but if
her slipper's here, then it's likely we'll find her asleep somewhere.
One of my men will be here in a

218

minute with the keys to the house, and then we'll have a thorough
search. She might have gotten in somehow.?He glanced over at Jason, who
was being maneuvered onto a stretcher and then looked at Rob. ?Are you
going with him??

Rob nodded. ?Yeah. He's a good friend of mine.?Taking hold of Kelly's
hand, he realized what it was that kept drawing her attention, causing
her to nervously gaze over her shoulder. Pushing her hair out of her
face, he kissed her on the forehead and then tilted her face up to his
so that she could see the sincerity there. ?Tabby wouldn't have fallen
in the pond, Kelly. She'd have to climb over the little fence that
surrounds it first, and that would be too high for her. Believe me, I
know. I? climbed over it hundreds of times when I was a kid, and it was
designed to keep curious toddlers like her out. Okay??

Letting out a little sniff, Kelly nodded; grateful, if not convinced.
The ambulance men were loading Jason into the back now, and Kelly kissed
Rob gently on the lips. ?Will you call me later??

Rob squeezed her tight. ?Of course. And you can reach me at the hospital
if you have any news or if you need me for anything. I wish I could
stay, but I can't send Jase off on his own. I need to know that he's
going to be okay.?

Kelly smiled gently. ?Don't worry. I've got plenty of people here.?Her
brow furrowed a bit as Rob stepped up to sit down next to the stretcher.
?What do you think Jason was doing here anyway??She didn't look
suspicious, just confused.

Rob looked away. ?I don't know. I really don't know.?

Keery's look was hard. ?Well, I'd be interested in finding that out when
he comes 'round. Call me if there's any change.?

Glaring at him, Rob slammed the door. 219

About five minutes after the ambulance had left, four policemen arrived
with the keys to Syracousse, shortly followed by a van carrying more
constables to help search the house and grounds. Keery had tried to keep
Kelly to one side while he swiftly separated his men into parties,
sending some along the lane to the river and the fields and spreading
the rest evenly around the property, but she refused to remain with the
young woman police constable allocated to her, insisting in no uncertain
terms that she was damn well going into the house. If anyone was capable
of finding Tabby, it was her. Keery had stared into her resolute,
exhausted face for only a fraction of a second before admitting defeat.

?Okay, you can go in. But if anyone tells you to stop or come out, then
you do as you're told. Agreed??

?Agreed.?

It took all of her restraint not to grab the keys and race ahead of the
detective who seemed to be moving too slowly toward the heavy front door.

?Come on, come on,?she muttered under her breath as

220

he worked his way around the locks. Her eyes seemed to be aching
constantly, and if she looked down at the hands that held on so
desperately to the dirty blue slipper, she'd have seen the cuts and
scratches that were oozing and scabbing from her frantic attack on the
overgrown thorny bushes that had tried to keep the precious prize from
her. They were there but she couldn't feel them. She was vaguely aware
of mud and blood, but there was no sensation of pain. She hadn't felt
anything except an awful, hollow emptiness all day. All day and what
felt like forever.

Time had passed like a hazy nightmare ever since she'd put her head
around Tabby's door, still fuzzy and romantic from making love with Rob,
and realized with horror that the room was empty. She had a vague memory
of moving in slow motion across the landing, screaming for her father to
wake up, to tell her that Tabby was sleeping somewhere else and not to
be so bloody hysterical. To tell her anything except that the little
girl wasn't in bed and nobody knew where she'd gone. But it didn't
happen like that. It didn't happen like that at all, and now here she
was, trapped in these events that didn't belong to her, as lost as her
baby. Oh Jesus, please let my baby be okay. Please let her come home.
For both our sakes.

The door was finally pushed open, and with an unconscious cry of relief
she barged past the uniformed men and ran up the abandoned staircase,
which seemed to eat up the large, empty hallway big enough to be
considered a room in its own right. Her body surged forward on pure
adrenaline and instinct.

When she came to the shabby landing that had once been cool and elegant,
but which now shed its skin in patches like the dry, rotting flesh of
the aged, dropping forgotten flakes of paint on the stained floorboards
beneath, she stopped, her breathing heavy, eyes darting to the doors on
each side, gaze stretching along the full length of the narrow walkway
to the tatty, rotting window frame at the far end. She's here; I know
it. She's some-

221

somewhere here. She turned around, hesitating with this sudden, new
certainty. Oh Tabby, I can almost smell you. Where are you? Somewhere
outside of the calm island in her mind, she could hear her own straining
voice screaming her daughter's name, screaming for an answer, willing it
to come.

The sun was flooding warmly through the clean glass of the window behind
her as Tabby giggled on the carpet with Mr. Pickles. The smell of the
flowers in the garden seemed to have followed them inside, and the fresh
sweetness danced along the corridor and around her, teasing her hair.
She smiled happily and leaned against the golden yellow walls, the music
tinkling inside her like it had constantly since she'd arrived. How long
ago was that? Her young mind twisted at the puzzle, but couldn't find an
answer. Sometimes she felt like she'd been here forever, and other times
it seemed like only minutes. Whichever it was, the monster man who had
chased her in that terrible dark seemed like a long time ago now, and
that was all that mattered. She was safe here. She was safe and bright
and loved.

Let's play hide and seek again, Tabby. I'll hide; you and Mr. Pickles
come and find me. Let's play.

Hauling herself to her feet, she was about to cover her eyes and start
counting, when something seemed to invade the tranquillity, something
that she could hear above the music, unsettling her. Tilting her head,
she fiddled absently with Mr. Pickle's ears, trying to tune out the
lilting notes and focus on the other sound, the new and familiar one.
She stood silent and still, her breath shallow as she concentrated on
listening to the sound that seemed to be coming from just outside her range.

Finally she seemed to locate the right internal frequency and her deep
eyes widened. Mummy. It was Mummy calling her name. Oh, she sounded
upset, so upset, not like Mummy at all. Her brow furrowed, and she glanced

222

around as if expecting her mother to appear from one of the doors on
each side of her. Expecting and wanting her to appear. Her mummy sounded
so sad, and it was all her fault. Her mummy missed her. She missed her.

The music inside started to play louder and louder, and Tabby frowned,
pushing the sound away.

Come on, Tabby. Let's play. Let's play hide and seek, and she'll go
away. Just ignore it and it'll go away. Let's play Tabby, let's play.

Her face furrowed in annoyance as she pushed the notes away. Why would
she want to ignore Mummy? She looked at the doors, which came off from
each side of the corridor that seemed to go on forever, trying to figure
out where the sound was coming from. Could Mummy be in one of those
rooms? How could she have gotten there? They'd played in and out of them
all afternoon. Surely she'd have seen Mummy if she'd been in them. She'd
explored every inch of their fairy-tale contents. Those rooms were the
most beautiful and magical places she'd ever been, full of toys and
sweets and princesses' beds and clothes, each unique but equally
wonderful. She couldn't ever imagine being afraid of the night if she
had to sleep in those rooms. Anyway, that didn't really matter, because
it never seemed to get dark here. It was always daytime, and it was
always sunny.

Her mother's voice cut through her thoughts, and something in it made
her insides feel funny. The music was getting louder and more insistent
inside her, and she screamed at it to SHUT UP. Suddenly she wanted her
mummy more than anything. More than the sunshine, more even than Mr.
Pickles. She didn't like hearing her screaming like that as if she were
crying, when everyone knew that mummies didn't cry. Mummies made
everything better.

This time when Tabby heard the echo of her name, she shouted back,
shouted back with all the strength her small lungs could manage. She
shouted so loudly that her throat

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ached with the effort. The music inside was discordant and angry,
sending sharp pains across her forehead, but she ignored it. Her mummy
was in the room just up a bit from her, she was sure of it. Why hadn't
she answered? Grabbing the handle with both hands, she twisted it and
pushed the door open. She'd been expecting to see the cool blue of the
walls and the enormous toy chest open by the four-poster bed, and the
shock of the change left her staring in silence for a moment at the
terrible blackness across the threshold. The air that hit her was cold
and stale, but it was only when she heard the wet sound of something big
slithering toward her across the floor that she screamed and screamed,
pulling the door towards her, desperate to shut it before whatever thing
was in there reached her and sucked her in. Her eyes squeezed shut, and
she held the door shut tight, tugging against the handle for a few
moments until she was convinced that nothing was trying to open it from
the other side.

Small tears were running down her face--her mummy had been in there, her
mummy had been in there, she'd been sure of it--and she stood frozen
with fear until somewhere under the awful noise inside her, she heard
the faint sound of her mother's cries. Opening her eyes, she turned
around, screaming in frustration.

What she saw made her yell cut off midway. Things in the house had
changed, just like the music that was hurting her head. The corridor was
crumbling now in the new gloom, its walls and ceiling covered with
cobwebs, their silky threads thick and weighed down with dead insects.
It hadn't been like this a minute ago; it hadn't been like this at all.
Her body shook as she cried, confused and terrified and just wanting to
go home--please Mummy, please take me home, I'll be good I promise--and
she shrieked as a large black spider scuttled across her bare feet,
pausing for a moment, its front legs waving in the air as it sensed her
presence, sniffing her out.

She pushed the wisps dangling from above that

224

threatened to trap her, out of her face, and she ran to the window that
was now covered in grime, shouting and screaming for her mummy, for
anyone, to see that she was in here. The garden was a dull haze, but if
she looked hard enough she was sure she could see ghost-like figures
moving out there. Banging on the window, jumping up and down in anxiety,
she shouted again and again, her words nonsense, her small vocabulary
unable to convey what she felt, just wanting someone to hear her, to
look up and see her. Behind her, she was sure she could hear the spider
coming back. Not just one, lots of them, and they were coming for her.

Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet, eating her curds and whey. Along
came a spider and GOBBLED HER UP!

We can play hide and seek like this if you like, Tabby. You'd be amazed
at what can live behind some of those doors. I can make it like this
forever, you know. Now be a good girl and behave. I love you. You're
home now.

Trying to shut the voice out, Tabby banged on the window frantically,
and something fell from the ceiling into her hair. Hysterical now, she
beat it out and glanced upwards. The ceiling was covered in slugs and
they were dripping onto her, their small thick bodies, heavy and damp as
they landed on her head, arms and shoulders. It was too much for her
system to take and she slid down beneath the window frame curling into a
tiny ball, her hands over her hair. Make it stop now make it stop now I
want to go home I want to go home I want to go home. And she did. More
than anything.

The music was gentler now.

You are home, Tabby. Look. You're in your beautiful house. The one you
wanted so badly.

Tabby slowly opened her eyes, her nightdress sticking to her with sweat
despite the chill. For a moment she seemed unable to breathe. The
corridor was back to the golden yellow, no spiders now, no cobwebs, no
slithering creatures coming to catch her. Pulling herself up on her

225

knees, she peered through the clear glass of the window. The sun was
shining on the perfect lawn, and the surface of the pond twinkled back
up at her. She stared for a few moments, and for a second she almost
believed it, but if she stared hard enough, she could almost see the
blackness under there. The blackness and the bugs. ?It's not real,?she
whispered, the loneliness eating her up from the inside. ?It's not
real.?A small mewl seeped out of her. ?I want my mummy.?A pane of glass
cracked in front of her, but she didn't flinch, just kept on staring out
at the garden now empty of moving shadows. ?I want my mummy.?

Go to sleep.

The tiredness washed outward from somewhere deep inside her, her muscles
aching as they relaxed. The tears were still silently flowing as she
buried her face in Mr. Pickles's familiar, homely smell, and waited for
her eyes to start to drift shut.

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It had been two hours since Jack had finally persuaded Kelly to leave
Syracousse, and the bath and brandy he'd poured her had done little to
calm her. He hadn't really expected them to. Nothing would calm her
apart from the return of her little girl. And despite his own veneer of
calm and strength, it was only Kelly's need for him that was stopping
him falling apart. It seemed as if even the house ached with the lack of
Tabitha. Nothing seemed right without her. Nothing.

Kelly was staring into the flames, one hand playing with a loose strand
of hair, twisting it into knots. Her voice was quiet. ?She was crying.
It's crazy, but I was sure I could hear her. So sure. I thought I could
hear her really faintly calling for me, answering me. She sounded
terrified.? She paused, lost in the memory, and Jack knew that even in
the midst of this terrible loss, her clever mind would be analyzing it,
needing to know whether it was truth or whether her own brain was
deceiving her, answering her need.

?How could I have heard her if she wasn't there? And what about her
slipper? She's there, I know it.?She

227

paused. ?I know it, but I just don't understand it.?For the first time,
she turned to gaze at Jack. ?Why did they make me leave? Why??

?They're ripping the house apart up there. If they find anything,
they'll call. It's better that we're here. They need space to get on
with their jobs. You know that better than most, love. Trust them.?
Looking down into the golden pool of brandy, Jack's stomach turned a
little knowing that what he was saying was only a half-truth. Keery had
asked him to take Kelly home because they needed the daylight to dredge
the large pond, and that was something neither of them wanted Kelly
knowing. If he were honest, it was something he could have done without
knowing himself. The thought of those men looking for Tabby in all that
murky water would keep him awake tonight. That thought, and so many others.

He finished his drink and poured himself another from the bottle on the
floor by his chair. One more wouldn't hurt him. Kelly hadn't really
touched hers, and that was probably a good thing. He'd try to get her to
take one of his sleeping pills later, and too much alcohol beforehand
wouldn't be too clever. But he'd resigned himself to a sleepless night,
and he needed the calming warmth to help him think properly. To think
without guilt and confusion and fear.

Why the hell hadn't he recognized the house in Tabby's painting? He
should have; God knows, he knew it well enough. And today, going up
there, seeing it standing so defiantly after everything that had
happened, had brought all the memories flooding back. There were some
good ones, yes, and some great ones; there was no point in trying to
deny that. But some were painful, too painful to want to revisit. And
then there were the ones that were ... well, were downright strange.
God, he was too old for this, too old to have to go traipsing around in
the past again. It was done. Done and dusted, damned or otherwise. He
let out a long sigh, but Kelly didn't notice.

228

What would she think of him if she knew? What would she and Tabby do if
the whole mess were opened up?

Do you have a secret, Granddad? A guilty secret.

The confusion inside was making him want to scream, and he got up and
went into the dark kitchen, gazing out the small window without turning
the light on. The dark was the place for thinking about secrets. It was
a great leveler, making distractions invisible, objects old and new,
loved and unloved reduced to shadows unintrusive and unimportant. In the
dark, he could forget about age and aching hips and just exist for the
moment as if nothing before or after was of any consequence. When he'd
been on the force, he'd done some of his best thinking late in the
evening when everyone else had gone home. He'd turn the lights in his
office out, put his feet up on his desk--back in the days when he could
do that without thinking something was going to snap at the base of his
spine--and let his brain take over. Staring out at the night sky it felt
a little like that now, and the chill away from the fire seemed to make
his mind sharper, more focused.

How could Tabby have known? How could she have even known what the house
looked like? Kelly and he had never taken her down there. No one ever
went down there. It was a forgotten place. No one even thought about it,
mentioned it. It was like a dirty secret that the town was no longer
interested in. Not until that rape. What would have made Tabby go there?
What would have made her paint Syracousse? It didn't make sense.

The only link between Tabby and Syracousse was himself. Whatever was
going on, it had to be down to him in some way, and it wasn't only Tabby
who was affected. What about Jason Milburn? Someone or something had
hurt him pretty badly last night, and he didn't hold with Keery's theory
that Jason had anything to do with Tabby's disappearance. Jason may have
strayed off the straight and narrow in the past, but he'd never been
like that,

229

never bad. But just what the hell had he been doing down there?

The dark provided no answers. He turned and stared through the doorway
at Kelly, and his heart felt heavy and for the first time in his life,
old. Its beat was tired, an unwilling accomplice in his life. She was
his baby girl. His daughter. His youngest daughter.

Standing there watching her, seeing her so pale and upset, he felt a
sudden overwhelming urge to sit down and tell Kelly everything. To bare
his soul and be damned. He'd lose her; he'd lose her for good, of that
he was sure. But maybe if he told her, then Tabby would come back. Crazy
as it sounded, he believed that more than he believed in anything. If he
told Kelly, if he sacrificed himself on the altar of the truth, then
Tabby would come back. All this would stop. It would be worth it. Losing
that love to see her joy when her baby came back. And in his heart he'd
know that his punishment would be deserved. Would that knowledge make
the loss easier?

He felt like a man standing on the edge of a precipice, giddy eyes drawn
to the tiny reflections of rocks below, wondering how large they would
grow, what sharp shape they would become were he to take just one tiny
forward step more, leaving land behind him and heading into the abyss.
Mentally moving in a dream, he raised a foot. ?Kelly, there's something
I need to tell you.? His words sounded as if they were coming from
somewhere else, somewhere outside himself, and as his daughter slowly
turned her head to face him, it almost felt like he was leaving the
safety of firm ground and heading into the freefall that beckoned so
invitingly.

The doorbell rang like an alarm clock going off in the middle of a deep
sleep, and Kelly's head swung round away from him, breaking the moment.

?That'll be Rob.?Scrambling to her feet, she was blind to the reeling
step backwards Jack took, his hand reaching

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for the doorframe, clutching at something to steady himself mentally and
physically. What was I thinking? What was I thinking to tell her today?
Today of all days? Despite the heat from the fire, his hands felt cold
and he poured himself another large brandy under the guise of fetching
one for Rob.

Coming into the small lounge, the writer looked tired. There were large,
dark circles clinging to his eyes, and his clothes hung lethargically
from his frame, disheveled and forgotten. Kelly ushered Rob to the sofa,
where she sat down close to him, her face full of concern. ?How is he??

Jack passed the young man a glass, and Rob took a long sip before
answering. ?Not good.?His voice was hollow, another reminder to Jack of
how the world had changed for them all with only the passing of one day.
Each with their own burden of grief locked away inside.

He slowly eased his aching, treacherous body into the chair by the fire
to hear what Rob was quietly telling them.

?They say he's lucky to be alive. I don't think I'd call it lucky. He's
broken his back and fractured his skull.?He took in a long, shaky
breath. ?He's in a coma in intensive care. If he does make it, and it
seems like a big if, then he's never going to walk again.?

Jack's trained eye noted the tortured way Rob's jaw twitched, and the
anger hiding just below the surface of his handsome, sad face. The
policeman inside, the one his body had forced into retirement, stirred.
?Do they know how it happened??

Rob's face twisted into a smile before his muscles lost their energy and
his expression slackened into nothingness. ?The doctors said that if
they didn't know better, they'd say he'd fallen or jumped out of a
third-floor window. They haven't got a clue how it happened. I'm going
back up there tomorrow morning, so maybe they'll know a bit more then.?

?I'll come with you.?Kelly's face was determined. ?Just

231

in case he comes around. He might know something about Tabby. Maybe he
saw something.?

Rob stroked her hand. ?Don't expect too much. Like I said, he's in a coma.?

?Anything's better than just sitting here going crazy. I've got to do
something.?

Jack took his moment. Kelly needed to rest, and this seemed like a good
opportunity to get her to bed. ?I think you'd better go upstairs and
take one of my sleeping pills. I'm not letting you go anywhere tomorrow
unless you get some sleep tonight. You need it. You need to be fit and
well for both yourself and Tabby.?

Kelly frowned. ?I hate pills, and the last thing I feel like doing now
is going to bed. What if someone rings??

?If someone rings, I'll wake you up. They're not going to knock you out;
they'll just help you drift off. Trust me.?

Kelly looked at Rob, who stroked her hair. ?Your dad's right. You need
to rest if you're going to be fit for anything tomorrow. Now go and do
as you're told, young lady.?

Kelly didn't smile, but acquiesced, pulling herself to her feet.

Kelly leaned down and kissed Rob before going and kissing Jack.
?Goodnight, Dad.?

?Goodnight, sweetheart. Let's hope this whole nightmare is over
tomorrow. Keery will find her. I'm sure of that.?

Kelly didn't reply, but headed slowly up the stairs, leaving both men
staring into space as if hypnotized by the fire. Neither spoke until
they heard the dull sound of Kelly's bedroom door shutting. Jack waited
a few moments before sipping his brandy and leaning back in his chair.
He spoke quietly, the age in his voice like gravel.

?So what do you think Jason was doing up at the house last night??Rob
sent him a sharp, suspicious look from the sofa, and Jack shook his head
quickly, a sad smile on his face.

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?You're getting me wrong. I don't think he had anything to do with Tabby
going missing, don't you worry about that. I had plenty of dealings with
him back before I retired, but it was never anything serious. He did
himself more damage than he ever did anyone else. I think he is just a
very angry young man, not a bad man. He's been out of trouble for a
while now.?He watched Rob carefully as the writer rolled his glass in
his hands, avoiding eye contact.

?I just wondered if you knew what he'd be doing up there. You boys were
pretty friendly when you were kids, and you chatted for a while at the
funeral. Did he say anything??

Rob chewed his bottom lip, and Jack waited patiently for the man to find
the words he was mulling over. He'd learned over the years never to
push. If you pressed people too hard for an answer, they'd clam up. Let
them talk in their own time. In their own words. Eventually their story
would come out, whether now or in fifty years' time, it didn't really
matter. You couldn't fight the truth, no matter how hard you tried. He
was learning that lesson fast.

Rob sighed and ran one hand through his short hair. ?When we were kids,
we used to play up there. Me, Jase and Carrie.? The memory of his
friends seemed to stab at the skin on his face, but he carried on, his
voice stilted as if uncertain of how to continue. ?Only for one summer.
But it seemed to last a lifetime, that summer. Carrie had made friends
with Gina Grace.?He laughed a little, lost in time. ?I guess she was
getting to that age when she wanted to have girlfriends as well as us.
Anyway, things happened during those months that drew us together and
then blew us apart.?

Jack's eyes narrowed. ?What kind of things??

Rob shook his head. ?You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Strange
things. Gina things, we called them. I suppose, over the years, I
convinced myself that they never happened at all. But now, after all
this, I don't think I can

233

hide from it anymore, and without Jason, I don't think I know what to do
about it.?He smiled bitterly up at Jack. ?I sound crazy, don't I? Are
you sure you want me around Kelly??

Jack didn't smile back. Strange things. Gina things. Why had Rob called
them Gina things? Gina didn't have anything to do with any of it. She
couldn't have. Because strange things happened before Gina, he was sure
of it, even if it was such a long time ago. He shook his head at Rob. ?I
don't think you're crazy. I don't think you're crazy at all.?

The younger man was staring at him so intently, Jack was suddenly afraid
of taking this conversation further, afraid of what he might say and
what he might hear. He changed tack. ?I know about crazy. I went up to
Syracousse that day. I answered Camilla Grace's call at the station.?He
hated the way the words came out so clinically. So professionally. Of
course you answered. It came through on your direct line. She wasn't
calling the police, she was calling Jack Hollingsworth. She was calling
for help.

?I was the one who found Philip Grace in the kitchen.?

Rob had frozen, his glass half way to his lips. ?That was you? You were
the policeman who came??

Jack nodded. ?That was me. A long time ago.?

Silence fell between them again, but this time there was an edge to it,
and Rob finished his drink and stood up. ?Thanks for the brandy, Jack.
I'll see you in the morning.?He paused in the doorway. ?Maybe you should
try and get some sleep yourself.?

?Yes, maybe I will. I think I'll have a nightcap first, though.?He
raised a hand to say goodnight and Rob pulled the door to behind him.

234

Rob got undressed in the dark and slid into the double bed next to
Kelly. The pill must have sent her off to sleep, but her body was
sweating and she tossed and turned, murmuring to herself, lost in a
dreaming search for her baby. Putting one arm gently over her, Rob
stroked her damp hair. Where was she? Still up at Syracousse hunting
through those abandoned rooms?

Although he'd come up to bed, he wasn't tired. Exhausted and aching,
yes. But not tired. His mind was still racing, and always, always,
flashing up behind his eyes like a Screensaver on a computer, there was
the image of Jason hooked up to all those machines, his face barely
visible behind the ventilating equipment strapped to him. Was the past
ever going to let them go?

The old man's words were still ringing in his ears. I know about crazy.
I went up to Syracousse that day. So many doors opening into the past,
and so many truths when you get there. Jack Hollingsworth had been
there. Rob had been surprised for a second, and then it all made

235

a weird kind of sense as if strands of thread were being carefully woven
back together.

It was another refracted ray of someone's life slipping past the shadows
of his own. Another door opened at a different angle creating a
different view of the same truth. Jack Hollingsworth's truth was that
he'd found Philip Grace bleeding his life away on the kitchen floor that
hot afternoon, Gina probably still crying beside him. But what if he'd
come five or ten minutes earlier? What would his truth have been then?
His truth and theirs would have collided, and there'd have been one less
secret to carry through the years.

Stroking Kelly's hair had calmed her a bit, her movements less frantic.
His eyes still wide open, Rob curled in behind her, wanting the comfort
of her warmth as he strolled through the past. Yes, there'd have been
one less secret for all of them to carry because Jack Hollingsworth
didn't find Philip Grace first. They did. The four of them.

Rob didn't know what he was doing, coming up the gravel track that
afternoon. He didn't know why he'd agreed to Carrie's meeting at his
house. He didn't want to hear about Gina, didn't want to see her, but
he'd known the minute they'd all met up that they'd end up back here.
His eyes burned into Jason's back as his ex-best friend, his now biggest
betrayer, strode along ahead of him, arms and hands still lightly
bandaged even though it had been two long weeks since ... well, since
Teacher. Teacher and Jason's talk at school. Rob's stomach twisted with
the memory. Maybe that's why he'd agreed to Carrie's incessant demands
for a powwow, not just to shut her up, but to see Jason. To see if he
was sorry.

He blew his bangs out of his face, and out of the corner of his angry
eye saw Carrie waiting for them up by the tree. He wasn't stupid. He
knew she'd gone on ahead to leave him and Jase together. What did she
think they

236

were going to do, talk or something? Fat chance. He was never ever going
to forgive Jase, even if he were sorry and there was no sign of that.
Jase hadn't even looked at him when he and Carrie had turned up at Rob's
mum's house. Yeah, Jase looked tired and had those big dark rings under
his eyes, just like Mum had since the stuff with Dad, but he sure as
shit didn't look sorry. He hadn't even really spoken, just nodding and
grunting in agreement when Carrie said they should go up and see Gina.
See what she had to say.

When would Carrie see that talking was worth shit? Whatever Gina had to
say it wouldn't bring Teacher back. It wouldn't turn the clock back to
the beginning of the summer when everything was fine, and he could
believe that whatever was wrong in the world, a hot summer's day could
put it right. Jason wasn't the only one who hadn't been sleeping. If he
thought he was the only one who had nightmares about Teach, then he was
more of a selfish shit than Rob thought. Shit. It was such a good word.
It really summed up the way the world made him feel and the way he felt
about the world. At least he knew that he didn't have long to go here.
He was off to boarding school and for the first time in his life
September couldn't come soon enough. He stared at the strangers ahead of
him who used to be friends. Soon enough he'd be away from them, from all
this and then maybe the nightmares of fire and burning fur would stop.
Yeah, boarding school was his lifeline, his secret. And he wasn't
sharing it with anyone. It was his. It was private.

He reached the shade of the heavy branches and joined the other two.
Carrie glanced from one boy to the other with total despair and Rob slid
his eyes away.

?Well, let's go see what she wants to say. I don't want to be here any
longer than I have to.?Jason's voice was hollow and for a moment Rob
almost felt for him. Almost.

Carrie pushed the gate open and once again, for the last time that
summer, they crossed the threshold of

237

Syracousse. Walking past the pond, Rob pointed out Gina on the old swing
in the far corner, and the three of them headed toward her. As she stood
up to meet them, he saw how the past two weeks had taken their toll on
her, too. Her hair had lost its sheen and her slim frame was now thin,
her face gaunt. The beauty was still there, but there was nothing
glowing anymore. She picked at her fingers, ripping the skin from beside
her chewed-down nails.

?It wasn't me. I didn't do that to Teacher. I wouldn't do something like
that. You have to believe me.?Her voice was barely a whisper, and she
looked close to tears.

Awkward and uncomfortable, Rob took the swing and pushed the empty seat
backwards and forwards, listening to its familiar creak. He didn't know
what to think. Maybe Gina didn't do it. Or maybe she just thought she
didn't do it. Jason was staring at her with hate, and something inside
Rob was pleased he was looking at her like that and not at him. But then
he remembered that he didn't care. He and Jase were finished. There was
no going back.

Gina was crying properly now, the blotchy red beneath her eyes the only
color on her cheeks. ?I promise. I wouldn't do something like that. I
couldn't. I don't know how it happened, but it wasn't me. It couldn't
have been me. Please believe me.?

Carrie took a tentative step forward and turned to face the others from
Gina's side. ?I believe her. No one would do something like that. Not to
Teacher. Not to anyone. Look at her. She's as upset about this as we are.?

The open goodness in Carrie's face would have made Rob smile in any
other situation. Carrie always believed the best of everyone. Jason
looked at Carrie, the hate in his face overwhelmed by tiredness, and
shrugged. ?I don't really care anymore. Nothing can bring Teacher back.
Nothing.?

Rob said nothing, his brain aching from thinking, and

238

just pushed the swing again and again. The back door was open and the
sound of shouting and recrimination invaded their silence. Gina flinched.

?They always argue now. Ever since you all left. They think I can't hear
them from my bedroom.?

For a moment, the purpose of the visit was forgotten. Rob could almost
see Carrie's vision of the perfect family crumbling. That's how she saw
the Graces. The same way Jase used to see the Blacks. Perfect. When
would she learn that nothing was perfect?

Carrie's voice was incredulous. ?What are they arguing about??

?Dad's business isn't working. Hasn't been for a while apparently, he
just didn't tell us. He wants to sell the house, move somewhere smaller
and use the rest of the money to pay off some of his debts.?

She was speaking in barely a whisper, and Rob noticed that even Jase was
fascinated. If he were honest, he was fascinated himself. The mask of
the summer was crumbling further.

?Why don't they? Sell the house I mean, if it'll solve your
problems.?Carrie made it sound so matter of fact, but then, Rob thought,
a little ashamed of himself, Carrie lived on Gallows Hill. Nobody would
care if they had to move out of there.

Gina was staring at the back door. ?Mum won't let him. She loves this
house. She's lived here all her life. She says it's her house, not his.?

Philip Grace's hard, accusing words filled the garden with their sound,
and Gina's face clouded over. ?He never shuts up. Never. I wish he'd
just die.? She almost spat the last words out, and Rob wondered just
what had been going on here since the awful day that Teacher had died.

A couple of seconds later and the shouting stopped abruptly. Carrie
raised an eyebrow. ?Maybe they heard you.?

239

Gina shook her head. ?More likely he's just stormed out again. That's
what he does. Comes in, shouts and then leaves.?

The sun was beating down aggressively and a few moments later when Gina
suggested a drink, none of them said no, although Jason swore he was
leaving straight after.

Rob was the last one into the shade of the kitchen, and Gina was already
staring at the body on the floor, the body bleeding on the floor, her
breath coming in sharp, fast sounds. Out of the corner of his eye, Rob
could see the orange of the pile of chopped carrots, the orange that
seemed to clash so badly with the red that was covering the tiles
beneath them. Jason was staring into the surprised eyes of Philip Grace,
his young body visibly trembling. ?Jesus shit, Gina, what did you do?
What did you do??

For a brief moment, Gina looked up at Jason in horror. ?No,?she
whispered, ?No, no.?Then her voice began to rise until she was screaming
the word, her hands reaching up and pulling at her long, dark hair, her
long hair that had lost it's luster, pulling out clumps as she tore at
it. ?NO NO NO NO NO NO NO...?

Unable to take any more, Rob reached forward and grabbed Carrie and
Jason, tugging them out of the kitchen. Without pausing to speak, the
three of them ran through the garden, fighting for first place out of
the gate, not stopping then but running all the way down the lane as
fast as they could go. Rob's ankle twisted on the gravel, the pain
shooting up his leg, but still he pushed himself forward, no amount of
agony enough to make him rest this close to that awful place. His arms
pumped as if trying to move through hot honey, and he wanted to run and
run forever. To never have to stop. To never have to think. But once
he'd reached the wall of the house that led from Ousebank Way down to
the river, his blood vessels felt like they were exploding all over his
body, and his legs were like jelly above his throbbing foot.

240

Sliding down the rough brick, Rob sat on the cool ground, drops of sweat
running down his face, and shut his eyes, waiting until the pounding
feet of Carrie and Jason behind him fell silent, before he opened them
again.

Jason doubled over, barely able to breathe. ?Holy shit. Holy, holy shit
She did it, just like she did it to Teacher.?He glanced up from his
crouched position, eyes full of disgust. ?Why did you take us there
again, Carrie? Why? How fucking dumb are you??Pulling himself upright,
the stitch that was obviously in his side making him stand funny, he
spat at the ground and then started wandering slowly away up the narrow
lane toward the other houses, his shoulders hunched and tired, a small
patch of sweat showing through his t-shirt. Rob watched him go, no
energy or compulsion to call him back.

Carrie was crying, but he ignored that too, pulling his knees up and
lowering his head into his forearms. When he raised his face again, she
had gone, vanished quietly as if she'd never been there.

His breath still raw in his lungs, he wondered momentarily where there
was left to go. Home? What home? What did it mean, that word? At his,
his mother would be hunched over the phone, whispering in a guilty voice
to some doctor or nurse up at that home or hospital or wherever they'd
taken his dad, whispering as if the neighbors could hear the family
shame through the walls. At Gina's home, home no more, she was probably
still screaming over Philip Grace's bleeding pale body, waiting for
someone or something to take it back, what she did. Jason would be
wandering back to his careless mother with his bandaged arms and empty
eyes, and Carrie, poor crying Carrie, bereft without her friends, her
hope, now full of the fear that came with knowledge. Knowledge that
nothing was safe, and that nothing would ever be the same again.

No more friends, Rob thought, his sweat now cold

241

against his skin. No more friends like this. He didn't have it in him.
If he could stay sane till boarding school, then everything would be
okay. It would be a new start away from Streatford. A new start.

241 242

242

243

Part III

253 244

244 245

The walls are aching from the inside out, frustrated by the child's
tears. It isn't working; it isn't working at all, not like the other
little girl, the only little girl. Everything is black now, black and
damp, the air rancid as the anger takes over, the inner bricks oozing
slime as the constant crying whine fuels the rage.

Why can't this one love? Doesn't she understand that they can be
together forever, never alone? Doesn't she understand how safe it is
here, how nothing can ever harm her as long as she only behaves? Why
can't she understand and be grateful, instead of this reluctance and
resistance? Why can't she just be happy?

The incomprehension seethes, pulling it into itself. There is only one
who would truly understand. It knows that now. It has forgotten so much
during the too many years of waiting, but now it knows she cannot be
replaced so easily. She was special. She is special. Together they belong.

There had been others it had loved all those seasons ago, but they had
betrayed it. All of them. They wanted it

246

destroyed. They wanted it to be alone forever. They had taken her away
and now she was lost. Lost and alone. The strangers had told it that.
They had made it understand.

Oh, how it had ached, hearing those words after all the patient empty
days with only echoes for company, but it had taken its revenge. It had
made the strangers pay. It had infused them with its anger; it had
suffocated them with its pain. And it would deal with the rest until she
came back. Until they made her come back.

The constant sobbing makes it wail, drowning the smaller human sounds
with waves of its own discordant emotion until the child screams and
falls silent. There is a victory in the peace. The girl will learn to
behave. She will learn to be grateful, to understand. The fear will
teach her. The fear and the darkness. It will be for the best. She will
learn to do as she's told like a good little girl. She will behave while
she is under this roof. It settles back, feeling the old earth secure
around its foundations and relaxes. Maybe in a little while it will let
in some light. Maybe. But not yet.

247

Rob could feel the nervous energy emanating from Kelly as they walked
down the whispering corridors of the hospital in search of Jason's room.
She had awoken almost as exhausted as she'd been before they went to
bed, but still she'd insisted on coming. And Rob had to agree with her;
what else was she to do? There was no sign of Tabby at the house and now
the police were stretching their search farther, into the fields and
back into the village. If she stayed at home, she'd go crazy with worry.
He gave her hand a squeeze and she gripped hard in reply.

The private wing of the hospital was a far cry from the lime green walls
and frantic activity of the floors below, and there was silence around
them as they approached the nurse seated behind the curving wooden
counter that also served as her desk. She smiled professionally from
behind a vase overflowing with scented lilies, no disinfectant invasion
here, and Rob's heart twisted. He'd paid for Jason to be here, but as
usual, it felt like he'd done too little too late.

248

His voice echoed around him. ?We're here to see Jason Milburn.?

?Of course.?She picked up a file and came around to their side of the
smoothly varnished wood, her uniform white and perfectly pressed.

?How is he??

?I'm afraid there hasn't been any change as yet. The doctor was with him
about an hour ago. We're just going to have to be patient.? She seemed
unaware of her pun, and checked her watch as her soft shoes ushered them
toward a door on the left of the corridor.

?He already has a visitor. She arrived about half an hour ago, but it
should be all right for you all to be in there. Sometimes, in these
kinds of cases, familiar voices can help bring the patient out of his
coma.? She smiled again as she reached for the handle. ?Can I get either
of you a cup of tea or coffee??

Rob shook his head as did Kelly, and he wondered who would be up here
visiting Jason this early in the morning. Maybe it was his girlfriend
from the pub the other night. Nodding a thank-you at the nurse--Barbara,
her name tag informed him--he stepped inside, still holding Kelly's hand.

The first thing Rob noticed was the perfectly French-manicured
fingernails of the hand holding Jason's, and he knew he'd gotten his
original guess wrong. This woman's slim build had none of the ageing
tiredness of the woman he'd seen in The Plough, and although dressed in
jeans and a blouse, these were not the kind of casual items you'd pick
up anywhere near Streatford. This woman was designer labeled from head
to foot, and as he studied the glorious dark hair that was pulled into a
loose ponytail, his heart missed a beat, forgetting itself in the shock
of recognition.

The face that turned toward him was as beautiful as it had ever been;
its lines and curves of bone more defined now that the fullness of youth
had dissipated. It was the

249

eyes that finally confirmed it for him though, that wonderful blue so
bright that if he hadn't known better he'd have thought she was wearing
contact lenses. So blue and full of pain, just like they'd been the last
time he saw them.

?It wasn't me, Rob. I had nothing to do with this. What's happening??

Her terrified words echoed through the past, and Rob stood frozen in the
doorway. Gina. Gina was back. For a moment the world spun, and then a
quiet shuffle beside him prompted him back to the present, to the
strange formality of adulthood.

?Kelly, this is Gina Grace. Gina, Kelly Hollingsworth. You may remember
her from school.?

Gina's eyes barely glanced at Kelly, and Rob too, found himself
forgetting she was there. ?How did you know? How did you know to come
here??His hand slipped away from Kelly's as he stepped forward.

Gina's voice was like tremulous velvet. ?I got your message and came
back. I didn't want to, but I knew I couldn't stay away. I knew it had
to be something serious for you to call.?Her eyes slipped to Jason for a
second. ?But not this, I didn't expect this.?

Rob watched as her brow furrowed and she swallowed hard, allowing her to
gather herself before she continued. Maybe she had cared about the three
of them, after all. Maybe she had cared about him. She came when he
called. Something in the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

When she turned back to face him, he noticed that her eyes glistened,
but no tears fell. She always had been such a contained little girl, so
wary of showing emotion. Apart from that last day. That last awful day.

?I got here early this morning and met my solicitor to pick up the keys.
He told me about poor Carrie and then that Jason had been found at the
house where the police were searching for a little girl that had gone
missing. What's going on, Rob? What's happening? I don't understand it.
Any of it.?

250

?It's my little girl that's gone. Tabitha.?Kelly had stepped up beside
Rob and taken his arm. Gina said nothing in response, and Rob suddenly
felt awkward standing between the two women. There were things he needed
to say that only Gina would understand, but he didn't want to hurt
Kelly. It seemed that she felt the change in atmosphere, because
suddenly his arm was alone and she took a step away from him.

?Look, you two obviously have some catching up to do. I know Sharnice is
in this hospital somewhere, so I think I'll go find her. I'll come back
in about half an hour.?Looking into her hurt face, Rob felt a pang
inside him. Don't be a bastard again, Black, he told himself. She
doesn't deserve it. Leaning forward, he kissed her on the cheek, but her
response was cool, and he let her leave without saying a word.

Waiting for her to close the door, he knew the ache he was feeling. He'd
felt it so many times before. Guilt. Guilt at wanting her to leave so he
could spend some time with Gina. Beautiful, elusive Gina. Guilt at
wanting her out of the way just for a little while.

Kelly found Sharnice two floors down in the women's ward. There was no
private room for her, but the weary nurses had made sure she had a bed
by the window, so that when she had the curtain pulled round her tiny
space in this enormous hospital, she could look out at the sky and have
natural light.

The ward nurse told Kelly that since coming out of intensive care
Sharnice had kept the thick blue drapes closed as much as possible. She
was pleased the girl had a new visitor but told Kelly not to expect too
much. The physical scars may be healing, but the emotional ones were
going to take a lot longer. What those boys had done to her was
terrible. Kelly nodded impatiently, and then pulled back the curtain and
stepped inside.

?Hi.?

251

Looking at the girl sitting up in the bed looking so young and fragile,
no makeup masking the child, Kelly was almost glad that Rob had been
such an arsehole upstairs. If he hadn't frozen her out, then she'd have
never come down here. She sat on the edge of the bed. ?I thought I'd
come and see how you were doing. You're looking good.?She kept her voice
as soft as possible, and eventually Sharnice brought her hollow eyes
round to meet Kelly's.

?I'm okay. It's nice to see you, Miss Hollingsworth.?There was no
hardness in the girl's voice, none of the cheeky arrogance Kelly was
used to seeing in the classroom where Sharnice had a reputation to live
up to. But then, Sharnice's world had changed all too dramatically over
the last few weeks. Despite the way she looked younger here than Kelly
had ever seen her, Sharnice's childhood days were gone forever.

?I think you can probably call me Kelly now, if you'd like.?

Sharnice didn't say anything for a moment, but just studied her
teacher's face. ?You look tired, Kelly.? Her voice kept the same low
tone, and Kelly wondered if maybe part of this calm exterior was due to
painkillers. The girl seemed a little bit spaced out. Not too spaced out
to see how tired you look. Not too spaced to notice that.

?I am tired. You know my little girl, Tabitha? She went missing the
night before last.?

She hadn't come down here to talk about this, she'd just wanted to get
away from Gina Grace and the way Rob was looking at her, but now that
she'd found Sharnice, it seemed to make sense to tell her about Tabby.
To talk about the house.

Sharnice nodded, her face betraying no surprise, but Kelly was sure that
she saw those pale eyelids open wider for a moment.

?Where did she go missing??

Kelly's heart started pumping up into her throat, and

252

ridiculous as it sounded, she felt suddenly as if she were in the
presence of an old wise woman.

?The police have been searching up at Syracousse,?she whispered. ?I
found her slipper there, and a man with a broken back. He's here in the
hospital in a coma.?

Sharnice nodded, gazing somewhere past Kelly.

?It's a bad place. I could feel it, but Lee and Darren couldn't. We
should never have gone there. Never.?

Kelly reached for Sharnice's hand, bringing her attention back. ?What do
you mean, 'it's a bad place'? Tell me, Sharnice. I need to know.?

A lank strand of hair fell into the girl's face, and she left it there
as a disguise for the tear that fell from her eye. She couldn't keep her
gaze on Kelly, but instead looked blankly out of the window as she spoke.

?You know, when I got out of intensive care, a policeman came and told
me that the boys had tried to kill themselves after they'd given
themselves up. I think he thought it would make me feel better, you
know, to know that they felt that bad about what they'd done.?She
paused, chewing her bottom lip, worrying at the skin there. ?But it
didn't. It didn't make me feel better at all.?She looked back at Kelly.
?'Cos I knew something that policeman didn't. That it wasn't their
fault. None of this was their fault. They were my best friends.?

Kelly gently pushed the hair out of Sharnice's face. ?What happened at
the house? What made them do that to you??

?I'll tell you, but only if you promise to do one thing for me.?

?What??

Sharnice pulled herself up on her pillows a little further, wincing
slightly.

?When you've got your little girl back, I want you to try to see Lee and
Darren. Tell them that it's okay. I know it wasn't their fault. I've had
lots of time to think about it, and I know they didn't mean it. I'd
write and tell them

253

myself, but no one will let me. They don't think it's healthy.?She
smiled a small, cynical, adult smile. ?Will you do that for me??

Kelly nodded. ?Of course I will.?

Sharnice nodded, as if happy with the agreement.

?I've told some of this to the police. Probably all of it at the
beginning, but I think they thought what happened had made me fucking
crazy. Anyway, they didn't believe me. The house made the boys do what
they did. I didn't want to go in there in the first place, but I'd made
them leave the Rec, so I figured I'd better go along with it.

?It's weird that we'd never thought of going there before, but I'd
forgotten the place was there, and I reckon if it wasn't for Lee's dad
working at that solicitor's office, then he'd have forgotten it, too.
Anyway, when we got there the door was open, and the electric was
suddenly working. It was warm, too, like someone had had a fire in
there, not like a house that had been empty for ages. The boys loved it,
but I didn't. There was something weird about it, something not right,
and then Lee told us what had happened there, with that murder and
everything, and how the daughter wanted it left empty forever.?

She looked up to check that Kelly was following, and Kelly nodded at her
to continue, eager to hear what she had to say. Eager to hear anything
that might help her find Tabby.

?I was a bit pissed by then, and I started saying how we should burn it
down on bonfire night, you know, do the owner a favor? The boys thought
I was joking, but I wasn't. If I could've, I'd have done it right there
and then. I didn't like it in there. There was something about it that
made me feel trapped. The kind of place that I wouldn't spend the night
on my own if someone offered me a million quid. Worse than that, though.
It felt like somewhere that had gone bad. I can't describe it properly.

?Anyway, I got them going on the idea and we started to plan it, you
know, how to get the petrol and everything,

254

and it was then that things started to go funny. The room went cold to
start with. Really cold. Like one minute it was all warm, and the next I
wanted to put my coat on. But the boys wouldn't give it to me. They were
looking at me funny. And then the light went out.?

Kelly stroked her hand. ?It's all right, Sharnice. You don't have to say
any more.?

The girl continued, as if she hadn't heard. ?Afterwards ... afterwards I
can remember them crying. Really crying. I hurt so much I thought I was
dying, and every time they tried to move me, I just screamed for them to
let me go, to leave me on the floor to die. But they wouldn't.?Her
forehead furrowed with the memory, and her voice fell to just more than
a whisper. ?They wouldn't leave me there. They were scared to leave me
in that house alone. They knew. They knew it had made them do it. They
carried me so gently, you know? Carried me out into the lane. Into safety.?

Kelly's own tears were falling now, listening to the girl's broken
voice. Sharnice sniffed hard.

?That's why I say it's a bad place. Because it is. Something's wrong up
there. I hope you find your daughter all right, Miss Hollingsworth. I
hope it hasn't done anything bad to her.?

Behind them, the curtain rustled and the ward nurse appeared carrying a
small tray, a vision of normality.

?That's enough for one day, I think. You've still got a lot of
recovering to do. I've brought you a cup of tea and your medication.?She
looked at Kelly. ?You can always come back another time.?

Kelly nodded, still unsure of what to make of Sharnice's story, and
stood up to leave. ?I will. Thank you.?She looked at Sharnice. ?Thank
you, too. You're very brave, you know. Very brave and very special. Is
it okay if I visit again??

The girl in the bed nodded, but her face was serious. ?You won't forget
what you promised me??

Kelly shook her head. ?I won't forget. You can trust me.?

255

* * *

She went back to meet Rob and Gina, and the three of them walked out of
the hospital together, Rob immediately taking her arm. Somewhere inside,
she felt better for that. The fresh air raised her spirits, and she
leaned her body toward his, forgiving him for his coolness earlier. He
responded by squeezing hard against her elbow.

?How was Sharnice??

She shrugged. ?It's difficult to say. She's not the same girl anymore.
Nobody would be after that.?She paused. ?It's strange how people find
ways of healing. She says she doesn't blame the boys. She seems to have
gotten it into her head that the house made them do it. She called it 'a
bad place.' Weird, huh??

Rob's body stiffened, and she looked up to see him exchange a look with
Gina. A secretive, worried look. What was going on with these two?
Something Gina had said when they first met her in Jason's room flashed
into her mind, and she felt the urge to question her on it.

?Gina, what did you mean when you said, 'it was nothing to do with me'?
How could what happened to Jason be anything to do with you??

Gina's beautiful, pale face flinched, again her eyes darting to Rob, and
Kelly felt her frustration rising. ?Look, will someone just tell me
what's going on? What is it that you don't want to tell me??

She may as well not have been there as Gina and Rob stood silently
looking at each other as if they could hear each other's thoughts
without speaking. It was Rob who broke the moment.

?I think we need to go back up to the house, Gina.?

She nodded, as if having expected his words. ?I've got a set of keys. If
the police aren't there anymore we should be able to get in without too
much of a problem.?

Kelly tugged at Rob's arm. ?Are you going to let me in on this? Why do
we need to go back up to the house? The police have searched it and they
can't find Tabby

256

anywhere. Why are you so concerned about that fucking house?? The pain
and anger of the week was welling up inside her, and she could feel it
all about to explode inside her. All she wanted was her baby back. Screw
Rob and Gina. Screw all of this. All she wanted was Tabby.

Rob pulled her close, and gazed intently at her. ?Just bear with me on
this, Kelly. Let's go back up to the house and find out if there's
anything to be worried about. If there is, I'll tell you the whole
fucking story, okay? I promise.?

Gina stepped up almost between them. ?No Rob, you can't...?

He cut her off. ?I'll do what I fucking want, Gina. I'm tired of
carrying it all around inside me. I'm tired of secrets. Anyway, Tabby's
missing. I think she has a right to know, don't you? She's part of all
this now.?

Part of all what? Kelly felt Gina's blue eyes reappraising her,
reassessing her importance to Rob, before the elegant woman shrugged.
?Okay. She'll think we're crazy, but okay.?

257

Stepping onto the gravel outside the main gates to Syracousse, Kelly
felt relieved to get away from the icy atmosphere within the car. The
tension had radiated from Rob all the way through their silent journey,
and from her position in the backseat she'd noticed again and again the
looks that flitted between Rob and Gina. Her twinges of jealousy were
getting stronger, and she couldn't help thinking that her pale blond
looks were dull and ordinary next to Gina's striking beauty. It was also
obvious that these two seemed to have some kind of history. What was it
he'd called himself? The king of the meaningless fling. Maybe she was
about to find out the truth about that firsthand. She tried to squash
this new pain inside her. Well, at least he'd warned her. But why the
hell had she let herself get so involved?

Waiting for Gina to finish struggling with the padlock on the main
gates, Kelly took in the view of the house from this new angle. At
first, she'd thought that coming back up here was going to be a waste of
time, but now that they'd arrived, now that she was looking up at the

258

building, all she could think about was how sure she'd been that she'd
heard Tabby calling for her in there. It had been her baby's voice,
somewhere just out of reach.

Finally, Gina got the padlock off and pushed the reluctant gates open.
The hinges groaned, and the metal seemed to resist Kelly as she helped
wedge the left one back against the hedges. Not that there was much
chance of it swinging shut. Obviously, not many people came in this way
anymore, if at all, but she thought that with all the activity
yesterday, the hinges would have loosened up a little. Apparently not.

Following the other two up the drive, their footsteps seemed too loud in
the silence. There wasn't even a breeze to make the trees rustle, and
Kelly found herself holding her breath. Letting the air out, she glanced
around, half expecting to see shadows moving between the bushes,
watching them. It was too quiet out here, and it felt eerie. It's a bad
place. Shamice's words didn't seem too strange now that she was here.

Don't be stupid, she told herself, bringing her attention back to Gina
whose hands seemed to be shaking as she fiddled with a key in the lock.
It's just your imagination. Nothing's wrong. But still, a shiver ran
down her spine, and she stopped where she was, a few paces away from the
front door.

?That's weird. It seems to be stuck.?Gina was bent over the door, now
trying to pull the key out. Rob moved closer.

?Is it the right key??

She paused and looked up at him. ?I think I know the keys to my own
house. Of course it's the right one.?

Her voice was irritated and snappy, but Kelly could understand why
coming back here would make Gina anxious. Her mother murdered her father
here, and that memory must be awful to relive. What she couldn't
understand was why Rob was so uptight about it.

259

Feeling completely left out, Kelly took another step backwards and
almost tripped over a stiff weed growing up through the driveway.
Looking behind her, she saw several more running all the way back to the
gates, the green shoots distinctive against the gray. How odd. She
couldn't remember seeing them on the way in. Could she have walked
through them without noticing? Puzzled, she turned back to Rob and Gina,
who were concentrating on trying to get the door open. She was about to
speak when movement above distracted her. She gazed upwards and her eyes
widened. The weeds didn't seem so important anymore.

She could hear Gina cursing under her breath, muttering quietly, and she
knew she should say something, warn them, but her vocal cords seemed
frozen as her brain tried to work out what it was seeing, because she
knew it had to be impossible. Had to be.

It must have started at the back of the house, because the ivy that was
growing so rapidly, reaching round and sucking at the walls, must have
come from the neglected vine near the back door of the house that she'd
seen yesterday. She almost giggled as she saw the thick green fingers
sliding across the roof. This stuff doesn't need any plant food, it's
doing just fine by itself.

Her breath was coming in shallow waves, and she gasped as the edges of
the front of the house turned green, the plant life covering it whole,
no bricks visible, as one by one they succumbed to the hungry onslaught
of the snake-like vines. What was going on? Just what the fuck was going
on? This couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Her eyes following one thick strand as it slid unnoticed across the
bottom of the house, Kelly finally found her voice. ?Rob. Gina. I think
we should go now. Something's happening. Look at the house.? Neither of
them moved, and her serene calm of disbelief broke as the ivy sped its
way to the front door.

260

?LOOK AT THE FUCKING HOUSE!?

Rob started, and looked at Kelly before following her eyes upwards.
?Jesus Christ.?

Gina screamed and kicked out with one foot. The tendril Kelly had been
watching had reached its destination and was now trying to slip its
flexible form around Gina's ankle. Watching as the woman turned this way
and that trying to avoid its clutches, still screaming for help, Kelly
had the horrible feeling that if the plant gripped her, it would never
let go. Never. More ivy was slithering in to join the first shoot, and
as if finding confidence in the approach of its allies, the green rope
finally made contact with Gina's jeans.

Standing on the sidelines, unable to move, Kelly watched as Rob grabbed
Gina's arm, pulling her roughly back, freeing her from the plant that
hadn't quite secured its hold. The house was almost totally green now,
as if it were being devoured, absorbed by the ivy, and Kelly was certain
she heard a wail of disappointment emanating from the abnormal growth.
She probably would have stayed there forever, if Rob hadn't pulled at
her arm.

?Come on, Kelly. Run!?

Turning round, she faltered for a second at the sight ahead of them.
Weeds like the one she'd tripped over were springing up everywhere
around them and they were growing and growing, some almost knee high.
Rob shoved her forward and she began to sprint, trying not to notice the
insanely twisted bushes and trees that seemed to reach for her, and the
sharp tickling of the weeds nearly strong enough to pull her down.

Gina was next to her, matching her pace for pace, with Rob urging them
on from behind. Twice Kelly thought she would fall as her feet caught on
sharp stalks and slippery roots, but her fear kept her upright. They
were going to make it. They were going to make it. The gates couldn't be
too far now.

261

?Run faster! They're shutting!?

Bringing her eyes up from the dangerous terrain, Kelly's stomach went to
water. Oh shit. Oh bloody, bloody shit. The weeds and plants had wound
their shoots through the railings of the gates and were pulling them
shut, and close as they were Kelly thought they should be able to hear
that awful rusty creak of the hinges, but this time there was nothing.
This time they seemed to be moving all too easily, all too willingly.

With a grunt of exertion, her legs feeling like lead on fire, she threw
herself forward, running at an almost impossible angle. She couldn't see
Gina beside her anymore so she fell through the gap in the gates,
turning as she did so to reach for the other woman's arm, dragging her
over the threshold to safety. Her legs kept moving until she hit the
hedges lining the other side of the lane. The leaves rustled as Gina and
then Rob slammed into it next to her, sending the vibration through her
shaking body.

Shutting her eyes, feeling her internal heat burning her face, she
leaned backwards into the bush, unable to think about anything other
than the exhaustion that was flooding through her.

?I think I need to start going to the gym.?The words came in panting
gasps, and she heard Gina attempt a light laugh beside her.

?You're not the only one.?

When her breath returned to somewhere near normal, Kelly opened her eyes
and sought out Rob. He was standing a little in front of her, staring
back through the gates. The gates empty of plant life. The gates with
the padlock securely relocked between them. Rob forgotten, she stepped
forward, ignoring the ache in her cooling limbs, and stared at the house
on the other side of the lane. The drive was free of weeds and the pale
yellow of the bricks showed no trace of the ivy that had crawled all
over it, suffocating it, only moments ago. This was crazy. Totally

262

crazy. How could the house look as if none of the madness she'd just
been through had ever happened? She spoke without looking at either of
the people beside her.

?I think someone should tell me what's going on here. This isn't right.
This isn't normal.?For a moment she thought she would cry, the mixture
of overwhelming emotions rising inside her, but she swallowed it down,
forcing the feelings away against her own will. She had to be strong for
Tabby. Tabby was all that mattered. As she stared at Syracousse in front
of her, a chill settled in her stomach. She'd heard Tabby calling for
her in that house. She was sure she had. What if Tabby was in there
somewhere, lost and alone? After what she'd just seen anything was
possible. Anything.

Rob turned his back almost defiantly on the house. He looked tired and
sad, as he took Kelly's hand.

?Let's get out of here. We can go to my house. I think I need a drink
before I share this story. At least after what you've just seen it's
going to be easier to believe.?

Kelly made sure she took the front seat on the drive back to town. This
time it was her turn, and there were some things worth fighting for.

263

It had been dark for such a long time that when the bright sunshine hit
his eyes, Jason squinted and flinched, as if someone had shone a
flashlight in his eyes in the middle of the night. He felt a wave of
nausea as he adjusted to the light, and it took him a couple of minutes
before he realized where he was. He was back at school, standing in
front of the class in Miss Jones's room, listening to a voice whose
words he couldn't yet make out. The wooden, ink-stained desks in front
of him looked small and different, as did the classroom, and he looked
down at himself, mild surprise working its way through his system as he
saw himself all grown up. All grown up but back in school. How peculiar.

Examining his tatty leather jacket with the crumpled pack of cigarettes
hanging out of the pocket, he had a vague memory of being outside in the
cold, his fingers numb. He'd been outside in the dark and he'd been
afraid. He frowned a little. That couldn't be right, because he wasn't
afraid of the dark, and anyway it was summer outside.

264

His mind still dulled with the feeling of having just woken up, he
glanced over the kids before him, spotting Carrie's pretty face looking
all pinched and tight, and then settling on Rob, old Rob, Robster, his
face pale under the summer tan. For a moment Jason almost smiled, but
the way the boy was looking stopped him. Robster was staring at him in
horror, his mouth moving slightly, involuntarily.

He'd seen that look before, once, a very long time ago, and suddenly
Jason realized exactly where he was. He wasn't just back in school. He
was back in school on that day. That last day of term in that last happy
summer. The voice he could hear was his own, and it continued, almost
independently of him, as he glanced at the teacher leaning against the
far wall to confirm his thought. It was Mr. Fricker, the P.E. teacher,
his eyes shut in the warmth, not really listening to the boy at the
front. Miss Jones was off school that day, gone on holiday early. She
would have been listening. She would never have let Jason tell his tale.
But Miss Jones wasn't there the first time round, and she wasn't here
now, and Jason stood and spoke uninterrupted, betraying his friend all
over again.

He could hear the words clearly now, like needles stabbing at him, but
he seemed unable to stop them. He was supposed to be giving a talk on
the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him, a holiday or
the birth of a sibling, and that would have been easy. He could have
made something up. But that's not what he did, that's not what he was
doing. He was telling the story of the day in the attic, about The
Ministry of Defense, about how he'd found all those crazy pyramids, and
about how his friend--no names mentioned, but the sniggering faces
around the room showed that they knew exactly whom Jason was talking
about--had cried and cried.

He could hear the venom in his voice and wished he could just shut it
up, shut it up once and for all. He didn't want to relive this day all
over again, he'd done that

265

enough times in his dreams, and anyway, what was the point? What was
done couldn't be undone, and he had a niggling feeling that he had
bigger problems to be dealing with before it was too late. The strength
of the thought made him pause, and he wished he could think straight.
What did he mean, 'too late'? Too late for what? Concentrating hard, he
heard another sound beneath that of his treacherous voice. It was like
the sound of bellows pumping, regularly sucking in and pushing out air,
its beat too even to be anything but mechanical.

That's when it'll be too late. When that sound stops.

His brain was feeling clearer, and with relief, he managed to stop
himself talking long enough to hear the noise outside the classroom. It
was a dog barking. He stared at the classroom door for a few seconds,
and then everything began to make sense.

?I'll be back in a minute.?He spoke without facing the children, his
voice suddenly grown up like the rest of him, and he wondered why he'd
said it at all, because he knew he wouldn't be back. He'd never come
back here. This was just a clever distraction. You couldn't mend the
past from the past.

He pulled open the door, already knowing what he'd see, and a warm smile
spread all over him, tingling down into his toes. Teacher was sitting
there in the corridor in front of him, whole and healthy, that glorious
golden coat glossy and full, his brown eyes shining. Whining eagerly as
Jason approached, moving his weight from one front paw to the other,
Teacher's tail thumped at the floor. Crouching down beside him, pulling
the dog close, Jason was unable to speak, almost unable to feel, the
sensations flooding through him, completely overwhelming him. He buried
his face in the fur, relishing the musty smell. It was exactly the same.
Exactly the same. Teacher was back. And he was perfect.

?It's good to see you, boy. I've missed you.?The dog licked his face in
reply, and Jason laughed, wiping the

266

wetness away. His hand froze halfway back to stroking the dog, and he
stared at it, numbness tickling at him.

His scars were gone. How could that be? How could his scars be gone?
Holding both hands in front of him, he turned them this way and that,
examining the perfect skin. His eyes shifted from his hands, to Teacher,
who sat panting patiently, and then back again.

Of course the scars are gone. Teacher's here and he's just fine. And if
he's fine, then you never saved him from the fire, did you? Ergo, no scars.

He shook his head as he played with the dog's silky ears, ears that had
burned to nothing last time he saw them. He looked into the brown eyes
that stared solemnly back, and the strangeness of it all washed away
from him. They were here for a reason. There was something they had to
do, and he had a feeling they were the only ones that could do it.

?So, we have to go back then??

Teacher barked once, loud and confident, and Jason stood.

?Well, come on then. Let's get it done.?

The house wasn't happy to know they were back, and it raged to itself,
not knowing how they got in. No one could get this far in. They were
beyond the rooms, the bricks and mortar, the surface interior. They were
far inside, as if in the guts or heart of it.

Jason kept his hand locked in Teacher's warm fur. Despite the madness
that he could see around him, he knew where they were. They were in
Syracousse. He could feel it.

?It doesn't like us being here.?

Teacher whined as if whispering in agreement, and Jason had never felt
happier for having the dog close. Taking a step forward in the gloom, a
pain shot through his neck and back like a bolt of lightning, and for a
moment he stumbled, his head filling with the image of a white

266

*&ť&ť..-. 267

room and the machine that made the sound inside him, but he pushed it
away. Those things were far away and unimportant, not real to him now.
Steadying himself, he felt Teacher's tongue on his fingers and the cold
nose against the palm of his hand. ?It's okay, boy. I'm not going
anywhere.?I hope, he added silently.

The air around them was dark and cold, with corridors spreading out far
into the distance on all sides. Jason peered to his left and right,
unsure of which way to go. Strange, unrecognizable sounds echoed out
from the distant blackness, some like inhuman wailing and shrieks;
others more subtle, occasional scuttling, scurrying sounds made by
creatures with too many legs as they whispered by. None of them were
pleasant.

Jason shivered as he stood and thought, the damp breeze that teased him
easily working its way through his clothes. He looked down at the dog
that was sniffing the ground intently, working around each of the
corridor entrances.

?I think we need to find Rob. Can you take me to Robster, Teach??His own
voice echoed loudly back at him from a dozen directions, making him
jump. Shit, this place was freaky. Freakier than he'd ever imagined.

The dog sat down and let out a short, adamant bark. Jason knew that
bark. It was the same one Teacher used to give whenever a bath was
mentioned when he was a puppy. It was a definite 'no.'

He sighed, puzzled. He'd been sure they'd been here to help Rob. Looking
around again, he felt lost. Lost and confused. Well, maybe they were
here to help Robster, but just not directly.

?Is there something we need to do here? Something important??

This time the dog stood up, his tail wagging.

Jason shook his head and smiled. It seemed that Teacher knew more than
he did about whatever the hell was going on, so he may as well just go
with the flow.

268

?Okay, I'll take your word for it, but you're going to have to lead the
way. Whatever the hell it is you're looking for, I don't think this
house wants us to find it.?

Teacher carried on sniffing the ground for several minutes before his
ears pricked up at the mouth of one corridor. Turning to Jason, he whined.

?So, it's down that way??

The dog barked impatiently, and trotted forward, leaving Jason to follow.

As the darkness swallowed them up, Jason kept his feet in time with the
gentle padding of the paws beside him, trying to ignore the sounds
reaching his ears from the depths of the house. ?Well, I hope to shit
you're right, Teach,? he muttered under his breath, ?because the sooner
we can get out of here, the better I think I'll feel.?

Despite the haziness of time inside his head, it seemed to Jason that
they'd been walking for hours, Teacher relentlessly seeking out a scent
and then following it, only pausing when unsure of which way to turn.
The air had grown colder as they ventured farther and farther inside the
house, and Jason's fingers stung inside his jacket pockets, his eyes
aching from trying to make out shapes in the total blackness around
them. He was no longer really afraid of the sounds around them, no
monsters having yet attacked them, and Teacher seemed completely unaware
of them, which reassured him. But then Teacher seemed different, too. He
seemed as if he'd grown up while he'd been away, just like Jason had,
and he sniffed and searched with a serious intentness that he'd never
had as a bumbling puppy.

Taking one of his frozen hands back out into the cold he patted the
dog's head. ?Good boy, Teach. Good dog.?Briefly, the dog brought his
nose up to lick Jason's fingers, and then got back to his task. Jason's
skin burned where the cold saliva had touched, but he didn't care. For
the first time in a long time he felt whole again, and he even managed
an uneasy smile, as the constant rattling of the

269

machine far away inside told him he was probably physically a fucking
long way further away from being whole than he'd ever been in his so-far
sorry life.

Realizing Teacher had stopped, Jason halted alongside his four-legged
friend. ?What's the matter, Teach? Are we lost??

Stroking the dog, he realized that Teacher's head was tilted, all his
muscles stiff and taut with concentration. What was he listening to?
Straining hard, trying to shut out the noises both inside and out, Jason
sought for the sound that had grabbed the dog's attention, but to no avail.

?What can you hear, boy??His whisper was more to himself than the dog,
but the words broke Teacher's freeze, and the dog started trotting
forward, making Jason jog alongside him in the dark to keep up.

The wind picked up, whistling around them, an invisible, bitter
assailant trying to push them backwards, forcing Jason to lower his head
to protect his stinging eyes, but as the two of them kept moving, the
air feeling as if it was shredding his skin, Jason felt his adrenaline
rising. He could hear it. Only just, but he could hear the sound that
had attracted Teach. It was the sound of quiet crying, but unlike all
the other noises that surrounded them, this one seemed real. He pushed
on faster, putting blind faith in his feet not to stumble in the
blackness, and Teacher easily matched him.

Behind them, a deep rumble started, probably way back where all the
corridors met, where Teacher had brought them in, and as the mass of
resonance grew, the ground beneath them started to vibrate, gently at
first, but growing rapidly more violent, shaking Jason's whole body,
making him weave unsteadily as he ran. What the fuck was going on? It
felt as if they were in the middle of an earthquake.

Stumbling sideways, he fell into the wall, his hand slipping into a wide
crack. A wide crack that was getting

270

wider. Earthquake. He paused momentarily, letting the information sink
in, before a belch of dust hit him from the bowels behind them.

The corridor is collapsing. That's what is happening. The corridor is
collapsing and it's rapidly catching them up.

?Go, Teach, go!?he yelled as he burst into a sprint, his panic
overcoming the unsteadiness beneath him, ducking instinctively as the
bricks began to crash down a few paces behind them. Feeling his muscles
stretch as he ran, and knowing that this wasn't funny, this wasn't funny
at all, he couldn't help the wild laughter that rose from his throat.
What was the house trying to do? Didn't it understand? It couldn't hurt
them, no matter how much it might want to. Because we aren't really
here. Not real flesh and blood here. He was strapped up to some
god-awful machine in a hospital somewhere, and Teach? Well, Teacher was
dead. We're here but not here. Figure that one out, Robster, you're the
brains. But Rob wasn't here with any answers, and Jason's legs pumped
quickly toward the small glimmer of light that appeared as the corridor
veered round to the right. This was no time to take chances, because
here or not, all this shit was feeling pretty real to him.

Following Teacher into the golden glow, he brought himself to a halt as
the ground spread out into a place he vaguely recognized. The awful
noise of destruction that had been chasing them stopped abruptly, and
glancing behind him, Jason saw the space they had come through knitting
itself into a solid wall, within seconds no longer any evidence
remaining that a corridor had ever existed. He didn't feel any surprise.
He didn't think there was anything this house could do that would
surprise him.

But he did feel a vague sense of disquiet. Something was niggling him.
How would they get out if they couldn't get back to the core of the
house? That was the way they came in. Somehow, he didn't think that the
front door was

271

going to work for him and Teach. They were operating on a different level.

The dog whined, and he turned away from the wall, leaving the thought
with it. They could worry about getting out later. Anyway, he smiled to
himself, maybe Teacher had a plan. He'd had most things sussed so far.
Pulling a cigarette from the battered packet in his top pocket, Jason
found his lighter and lit it, inhaling hard before looking around at
their surroundings.

They were on the wide landing at the top of the beautiful, curved
staircase that Gina's grandfather had built with such care for his
family. It was just as Jason remembered it, except that its beauty was
now destroyed by the spider webs and dust that hung languidly from the
ceiling and covered the banisters. There were patches of damp on the
walls, and an unpleasant smell rose from the rotting carpet. He looked
around with disgust. Had time done this? He didn't think so. Gina had
people to look in on it. They wouldn't let it get into this state. The
house had done this to itself. But why? Why? Or maybe Gina had done it
from wherever she was.

A glow of light touched the landing from downstairs, and through the
gloom he picked out the figure of a tiny girl, hugging her knees tight
to her chest and peering through the banisters. Something about her was
familiar, and a vague memory tickled at the back of his mind, but when
he pushed to recall it, all he could think of was pain. Shooting,
agonizing pain eating at his back and neck.

The little girl, her long hair hanging down in untidy curls, whimpered,
a small mewling sound she seemed unaware of, and Teacher whined in
response, nudging Jason's leg gently with his damp nose.

?Okay, okay.?

He walked over to her and she looked up at them silently, her face
impassive apart from a slight flickering in her eyes as she glanced at
Teacher who sat beside her,

272

panting his hot breath into her face. Cautiously, she raised a small
hand and stroked him, as if to confirm that he was really there.

Jason crouched down leaving Teacher between him and the child, so as not
to frighten her.

?This is Teacher. I think he likes you. I'm Jason. What's your name??

She kept her eyes on Teacher. ?Tabitha. But my mummy calls me Tabby.?Her
voice sounded dry from crying and Jason had to strain to hear it as she
continued. ?Are you the reason the voice is so angry??

Jason lowered himself down so that he was sitting cross-legged.

?What voice, Tabby??

She shrugged, her face tilting up to meet his. ?It lives here. It made
me come here and now it won't let me go. I thought it was nice, but now
it frightens me. It won't let me go.?She leaned forward slightly. ?It
says it doesn't want to be alone anymore. It says it wants her to come
back.?Her voice trembled. ?I think the loneliness has driven it mad.
That's what I think.?

Tabby's talking about Syracousse. The voice is Syracousse.

Jason's head swum as he listened, the memories closing in around him.
Carrie had been right. They had gotten it wrong. So wrong. It had never
been Gina at all, not Teacher, not Philip Grace, not even the broken
glass on the kitchen floor. None of it. None of this. Wherever Gina was,
she was innocent. Lost in the awful realization of it all, of the hate
he had wasted, he felt bile rising, burning his chest.

It was only when Tabby tugged at his sleeve that he realized she'd asked
him a question.

?What did you say, honey??

?Can you take me home. Can you??

Jason glanced at Teacher who slid downwards until he was lying with his
nose between his front paws. The dog

273

didn't look up. He looked back at the pleading little girl and smiled
gently, pushing a curl out of her face.

?No. No, we can't.?

Her face crumpled, small tears glinting in the half light, and Jason
realized suddenly why he and Teacher were there.

?No, we can't take you home, but someone's coming soon who can. We'll
keep you company until they get here, and then we'll make sure you get
home.?He patted the head of the toy she clutched under one arm. ?You and
your teddy bear.?

?You won't leave me??

He shook his head. ?No. We won't leave you.?

Tabitha looked back between the banisters. ?It keeps showing me the same
thing over and over like a film that's gone funny. It shows me again and
again, but I don't understand it.? Her head tilted slightly, confused
little furrows forming at the top of her nose. ?I think the man's my
granddad. He sounds like my granddad, but he looks different.?

Jason peered between the carved wooden poles to see, and the full canvas
opened up below him.

The glow that was filtering its way up the stairs was sunlight, and
Jason could see the Graces' mahogany sideboard with the old-fashioned
rotary phone sitting on its neatly polished surface, as it had done all
those years ago. His eyes rested there for only a second before being
drawn in wonder to the delicate figure sitting on the second to bottom
stair.

Camilla Grace's blond hair was piled up in a loose bun at the back of
her head, and she looked as beautiful as she ever had to Jason, despite
the red that was smeared across her face, and the deep crimson that
stained the bottom of her shoestring cotton summer dress. Her hands
clung to the ornate, thick banister below and she rested her elegant
head against it, like a child seeking comfort.

Lost in shock, she didn't flinch when the air was filled

274

with Gina's voice shouting, 'NO, NO, NO' over and over again, and
watching the past being played out before him, Jason knew that somewhere
off-stage, a younger version of himself, and Carrie and Rob were running
as fast as they could as far as they could, away from Gina, away from
the leaking body on the kitchen floor, away from each other.

After a few moments, Gina's screams turned to wails, long soulless
sounds that were a thousand times worse than her shouts of denial,
ripping at Jason's insides. He reached for Teacher and found a tiny hand
clinging to the shaggy fur. Covering it with his larger palm, he heard
the large brass knocker on the front door calling out three times. This,
and not the sound of her daughter's agonized voice tearing through the
house, roused Camilla from her seat, and she stared at the door for a
few moments, with what looked to Jason like hope in her eyes, before
hurriedly rushing to open it.

275

Jack Hollingsworth pressed the Play button on the answering machine for
the second time, listening as Kelly's tired voice repeated itself.

?Dad, I'm at Rob's. Gina Grace is here, too.?She paused, and Jack could
almost see her fiddling nervously with her hair at the other end.
?Something really strange happened up at Syracousse and Gina seems to
think she's got something to do with it, that it's got something to do
with Tabby going missing.?Another pause. ?I don't know. I think I'm
going crazy. Anyway, I'll be back a bit later, but I'm here if you hear
anything. Anything at all.?

The long beep started and Jack turned off the machine. Staring into
space, he couldn't bring himself to move, his insides hollowing out with
so many mixed emotions. Gina was back. Gina and Kelly were together at
Rob's. It was so hard to believe, but deep down he knew he'd always
expected this day to come. He'd only hoped it would be later. Always later.

His heart ached in ways it hadn't for years, the old memories coming
back as if they'd never been away. It seemed

276

that the truth was determined to come out; it had always been determined
to come out. Anger at the stranger he was all those years ago bubbled up
inside him. He should have let the truth come out when it was meant to,
on that awful afternoon. He should have faced up to it then. He should
have done what Camilla wanted. He should have listened to his heart.
Leaning back against the wall, ignoring the pain in his hip, he shut his
eyes and let the memory loose, let his guilt play with him one more time.

Camilla had said there'd been an accident, and the alarm bells should
have started ringing then, but his heart was too busy thumping in his
chest, reminding him that some things were never over, no matter how
much you pretended they were.

He glanced backwards, a force of habit from times gone by, before
rapping the knocker three times. It was a few moments before she pulled
the door open, and then the bells kicked in hard. He stood frozen,
staring at the blood that laid trails across her cheek, at the way her
whole body trembled, and then into her eyes that seemed open far too wide.

?Oh sweet Jesus, Camilla.?

She tried to smile, her mouth twitching terribly. ?You'd better come
inside.?

Moving past her, and shutting the door behind them, he paced into the
hall, his guts churning. He tried to keep his voice calm. ?Tell me
what's happened. Whose blood is that on you? Whose?? Coming from the
kitchen behind him, he could hear someone sobbing, a girl crying, and
relief flooded through him. It wasn't Gina's. Thank the Lord for that.
It wasn't Gina's.

Camilla tugged at her hands as she sat on the stairs, and Jack noticed
the streaks of blood that were drying on the banister. Oh Christ, what
the hell had happened now?

Her voice was as soft as a child's. ?It wasn't me. I swear it wasn't me.
He was shouting at me again, calling me

277

selfish for not wanting to sell the house, and I was just wishing that
he'd shut up, thinking how much easier life would be if he'd just die,
and then ... and then it was like the knife was tugged out of my hand
and all I could see was it stabbing him. Stabbing him over and over.?She
gazed up at him, pleading with those beautiful eyes that were almost purple.

?You know it wasn't me, don't you, Jack? You believe me, don't you? It
was just one of those things. Those things that happen. You remember
them, don't you, Jack??

He sighed and rubbed his face, fighting the urge to throw up, fighting
the pain of hearing Gina sobbing over the body of the man she thought
was her father. Yes, he remembered those things. Those strange events.
He looked at Camilla and shook his head slightly. ?I heard about the
dog, Camilla.?The flinch in her face told him everything he needed to
know. ?I think these things are getting out of hand, don't you??

She said nothing, and Jack felt his duty like lead inside him. ?Is he in
the kitchen? I'd better go take a look. We've got to get Gina out of there.?

Leaping from the stairs as he tried to pass her, Camilla grabbed his
arm. ?Not yet, Jack. I need your help.?

Stroking her hair, trying to calm her down, Jack felt his heart breaking
inside. ?I can't help you, Camilla. No one's going to believe any of
your strange stories, true or not. No one's going to believe you didn't
do it.?

She shook her head impatiently. ?No, no. I don't want your help for me.
Not for me. I want it for Gina. Take her home with you. Tell the truth
about her. I don't want her to go to Philip's family. If she goes there,
she'll hate me for the rest of her life. Please, Jack. Please.?

Jack felt numb, listening to her words but not really hearing them.
There'd been a time when he could have done what she wanted, but not
now. Not now.

?I can't. You know I can't. I've got my own wife and daughter to think
of. I can't do it. It's better this way.?

278

Tears shimmered angrily in Camilla's eyes. ?Gina's your daughter, too.?

?I would have left my wife for you.?He took her by the shoulders so that
they were face to face. ?When you were pregnant, I gave you the
opportunity. We were both going to leave and have our own family. Do you
remember? Do you remember how happy I was? But you couldn't do it,
Camilla. You were too afraid. And now things are different. I've got
Kelly.?He pulled her gently to him and kissed her on the forehead. ?I
would have done anything for you, Camilla, and I still would. But I
won't hurt Kelly. The moment for the truth has passed, you know it as
well as I. I have to think of my family now. Gina doesn't even know who
I am. I'm a stranger to her. To tell her the truth now wouldn't be fair
to her.?

He stepped backwards, letting Camilla go. She didn't resist, but stared
blankly at him. ?And now I'm going to get your daughter out of the
kitchen, and then I'm going to call the police. Okay?? Hearing his own
confident, even footsteps ringing out beneath him, Jack was amazed at
his exterior calm. Inside he was numb and twisting in the throes of
dawning comprehension. Philip Grace was dead, and Camilla was going to
go to prison. There was no get-out clause, no happily ever after.

?I love you,?Camilla whispered as he walked away, and Jack paused for a
second, unable to turn back, feeling in that instant as if it were he
who had been stabbed in the heart.

?I love you, too.?He wondered whether she noticed how his voice cracked
with the words.

When he came back out of the kitchen, leaving the awful scene behind
him--although never to be left behind in his mind, it would live there
forever--Camilla was sitting back down on the stairs, humming to
herself, and nothing he said could rouse her. Gina was still crying, and
getting no response from her mother. Jack pulled her close and

279

rocked her gently as they hugged. It was the first and last time he'd
cuddled his eldest daughter.

The memory tasting bitter in his mouth, Jack opened his eyes and felt
the time that had passed from then till now settling in his joints.
Robert Black's words from the night before echoed in his head. Strange
things at Syracousse. What had he called them? Gina things. He stood
thinking for a few moments more, before turning the answering machine
back on and picking up his car keys and coat. He knew where he needed to
go. Somewhere he should have been before, but he'd been too busy running
away. Well, he was too old for running now, and if the truth was on its
way, then it was time to stand and face it.

280

The three of them had drunk their steaming coffee laced with brandy
while Rob slowly retold the story of Teacher to Kelly--the real version
this time--and then found the rest all coming out in the same dull
monotone: Carrie, the judge, the computer, the last day of that summer,
the Gina things. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd spoken, but the sip
of coffee he took when he finished was cold and greasy.

Kelly kept her head down as she listened, her tense, pale face obscured
by wisps of that baby blond hair. Afraid of what he'd see in Kelly's
eyes, Rob found it easier just to look at Gina. Gina, who knew all of
this all too well already. Gina, who was already contaminated by their
history. Gina, who beautiful as she was, Rob suddenly realized was no
way as special or important to him as the fragile blonde sitting beside
him. Gina was a childhood fantasy; Kelly was an adult reality. The fear
of losing her so soon after finding her punched him in the guts, and he
reached for her hand. She squeezed his fingers, and looked up. But not
at him, at Gina.

281

?Okay, let's say that all this stuff is true, that it really happened,
and after what we saw this morning I'm not really in any position to
argue, but there's one thing I want to know. Have you been able to do
any of this stuff since you were a child??

Watching her, Rob was once again amazed at Kelly's strength. Her child
was missing, she'd witnessed something this morning that was like a bad
acid trip, he'd just told her a story that would make most people think
he was a loon, and she absorbed it all and came out with a question he
hadn't even thought of asking. A question that was central to everything.

Gina shook her head. ?No.?Her voice was soft, but still so much in
control. ?No, nothing like that ever happened again. Every day I dreaded
it would. I couldn't relax. Not for one second. I used to have what I
called my thought police, a small part of my brain, monitoring my
thoughts for anything dangerous. After a while, I found it easier just
to keep myself apart from other people. Friends were too much of a
worry. What if someone made me angry? Or hurt me by accident? What would
happen then?? She smiled slightly. ?Of course, as time passed and
nothing strange happened it became easier to let people in, but even
then, I tended to choose people I would never really truly care about to
share my life. Just in case. I've been doing it so long now, I guess
it's hard to break the habit.?

Her words made Rob's heart ache and those blue eyes looked into his with
such honesty that he couldn't help wondering where they would be if the
past had been different. They would have been together, of that he was
certain. Would they have been happy? Had kids? He watched her, a little
sad for what could have been, and was struck by the intensity with which
she returned his gaze.

Was that hope in her eyes? Did she think that if they could sort out
this mess, then the past would be erased and Kelly would disappear? He
broke her stare, not wanting to think about how time played tricks on
people, not

282

offering what was wanted until it was too late. Lighting a cigarette, he
brought himself back to the problem at hand. Everything else was
inconsequential.

?Carrie's message said that we'd got it wrong. Wrong about Teacher. What
if you weren't doing any of it? What if it was the house itself? My
computer said, 'make her come home.' Maybe the house wants you back.?

Kelly was nodding. ?That would tie in with what Sharnice said. They were
talking about how Gina was never coming back and then the lights went out.?

Gina sighed and took one of Rob's cigarettes. ?Well, if that's the case,
then why wouldn't it let me inside today? Why scare me half to death? It
doesn't make sense.?

Rob said nothing. Gina had a point, but still his gut was telling him
that he was on the right track. God, it was frustrating, all this
craziness, and somewhere a little girl was lost. The smoke rose like a
haze in front of him.

?I don't have the answers, Gina. All I know, all I think I know, is that
Tabby is in that house somewhere, and it doesn't want to let her go.?

Kelly's eyes glistened with fresh tears, although none broke over the
brimming edge. ?But why Tabby? Why her? I've got nothing to do with all
this. This is your shit, not mine!? Her face twisted with anger and
fear, and Rob knew the aggression wasn't meant personally. God knows,
she was dealing better with all this than anyone else he could imagine.
His own voice stayed gentle.

?Your dad went to Syracousse on the day Philip Grace died. He answered
Camilla's call. Maybe that's the connection.?

Behind her cigarette, Gina's body stiffened. ?Of course! I remember him
now! My mother was sitting on the stairs oblivious to me, and he hugged
me and hugged me for ages, telling me everything was going to be okay.
He was a very kind man. He hugged me until I'd stopped screaming, and
then he rang the police.?

283

Rob was aware of Kelly speaking as ideas pulled reluctantly together in
his head.

?I don't get this, any of it, but I do agree with Rob. I think Tabby's
in that house. I can feel it. I could hear her calling for me. It was
horrible. She sounded so close and so afraid, but I couldn't find her.?

The room was silent and Rob couldn't bring himself to fill the void.
Staring at his watch he saw that it was only just coming up to two in
the afternoon. It was hard to believe, with everything that had already
happened today, but Rob was starting to realize that there was more to
come before the day was over. Far more.

He got suddenly to his feet, and the women looked up at him, startled.

?I'm going out for a couple of hours. There's something I need to find
out, and I think I need to do it on my own. There's wine in the
cupboard. Help yourselves, but don't have too much. We need clear
heads.? Leaning forward, he kissed Kelly on her forehead, which was
furrowed with confusion.

?I love you.?

The words were whispered out, and Rob knew that if they had any power at
all, then it would be needed when he got home. Glancing at Gina, the
other lady in his life, he left the room and was gone before either
woman had time to speak.

284

The Hurstone Hospital in Ashburtle had once been hidden away, lost in
the countryside surrounding it. Now, although still set in its own vast
acreage behind the high electric gates, it was only a mile or so from
the nearest new housing development. Rob idly wondered how long it would
be before the old manor house was sold off and turned into luxury
apartments; the residents pushed on to strange and new places or
becoming victims of that wonderful invention, 'Care in the Community.'
Still, that was a worry for another person on another day.

The middle-aged nurse at the reception desk smiled as she finished
processing the information card she'd handed him on arrival and pressed
the buzzer to the side of her neatly organized desk.

?Someone will be along to take you to Mrs. Grace shortly.?

Rob nodded in acknowledgment. ?Thank you for letting me see her at such
short notice. How is she??

?The same as she's been since she arrived as far as I know. I've been
here ten years, and there hasn't been any

285

change in that time. She's very fragile. Most of her time is spent in a
world of her own. She has responsive spells, but they don't last long. I
think she's happier shut off from the rest of us. Still,? she smiled
thinly with a hint of reproach, ?maybe having visitors will do her some
good.?

Rob said nothing, and within seconds a young male nurse was walking
toward him, smiling.

?It's good to meet you, Mr. Black. I'm a great fan of your work.?He
shook Rob's hand eagerly as he spoke. ?Especially The Pyramid Man.
Wonderful insight into an unhinged mind. So sympathetically dealt with.
You really are a very talented writer.?

Always uncomfortable with praise, Rob shrugged. ?Thanks. It's nice of
you to say so.?Leaving the older woman behind, he followed the young man
down a silent corridor toward the back of the building. The nurse pushed
open two large glass doors.

?Mrs. Grace is in the garden. I think she likes it out here. Anyway,
it's more relaxing for visitors.?He smiled. ?Isn't it strange. She
doesn't have any visitors for years, and now two in one afternoon.?

Rob was barely listening as he scoured the vast green area in front of
him. Finally, his eyes found the figure he was looking for.

?It's okay. You can leave me here if you want. I can see her.?He pointed
in the direction of the wheelchair-bound patient and the figure sitting
on the bench beside it.

Leaving the nurse at the doors, he walked slowly across the forty yards
or so of grass until he was standing beside the bench. The woman in the
wheelchair still had the ghost of beauty in her delicate features, but
her eyes were dead as she stared into nothing, and her lips sagged as
they hung slack in her face. Rob searched for the Camilla Grace of his
childhood, willowy and elegant, but this tragic old woman had swallowed
her up for good, the blond hair now gray and untidy, the ageing face
free of powder and paint.

286

Jack Hollingsworth held one of her limp hands in his, and he looked up
at Rob, no surprise in his eyes. After a few seconds, he turned his
attention back to Camilla. Rob sat beside him on the bench.

Rob spoke softly. ?You were having an affair with Camilla, weren't you??

Jack didn't look at him, but shook his head slowly. ?Not when Philip
died. It had been over for a few years by then.?He sighed and stretched
one leg out in front of him, grimacing slightly. ?But I still loved her.
I still do, I guess.? He paused for a second before looking at Rob. ?How
did you know??

?It was something Gina said when talking about that day. She said you
hugged her and then called the police. It made me wonder why you'd gone
up there on your own. It was just a hunch. I wasn't sure until I saw you
sitting here.?

Jack smiled, his face wrinkling into a thousand folds of life. ?You
could have been a policeman with thinking like that. You've got the ear
for it.?

Rob shrugged. ?I think of it as a writer's ear. Same kind of thing, I
guess.?

Jack nodded. ?How's Gina??

?As elusive as ever. I've left her at my place with Kelly. We've had a
strange morning.?

Looking at the older man's eyes, at the way they seemed to be looking at
the past and the present at the same time, Rob knew they had
prevaricated long enough. ?Are you ready to tell me about it, Jack??

The ex-policeman nodded, turning his gaze back to the woman in the
wheelchair. ?I think I am. I think I've been ready for a long time,
waiting for this day. I always knew it would come out, you see. Secrets
in small towns are like corpses in water. They stay hidden for a while,
rotting and bloating beneath the surface until you almost believe they
were never there at all. But just when you start to relax, all that
awful gas makes them float to the surface, as if they

287

want to be part of the world for one last time. One last grand,
grotesque entrance.?He let out a short, humorless laugh. ?But I guess
this one's been rotting and bloating inside me for long enough. It's
time to let it float.?His tone was conversational and Rob listened,
absorbed, drifting into the story.

?Camilla and Philip's marriage went sour after he put her parents in the
old folks' home. She never wanted that, and I don't think she ever
forgave him for it. For my part, even though I'd married Jane, I'd
always had feelings for Camilla. When I was a young man, I'd thought she
was out of my league. She was so beautiful she could break your heart
with a glance.?He paused and smiled at the memory. ?And she knew it,
too. Anyway, that's no excuse for what we did, but one day it just
started. I couldn't have stopped it if I wanted to, and the truth of it
is, I didn't. I wanted it to go on forever. Philip was always in London
until late, so I spent as much time as I could up at that house with
her. I'd tell Jane I was working late and she, God rest her soul, always
believed me.

?I should have felt bad, I know I should, but I didn't. Not when I was
up at Syracousse anyway. Afterwards, when I was home, the guilt would
eat away at me, but never when I was there. When I was there, everything
seemed perfect.?

He looked over at Rob, his eyes back in the present. ?Do you remember
what you said the other evening about weird things happening? 'Gina
things,' you called them.?

Rob nodded, not wanting to say a word and interrupt Jack's flow.

?Well, those weren't Gina things, no matter what you think. Those things
were happening long before Gina came along. They happened all the time
around Camilla. She could move things on the other side of the room. No,
I'm telling it wrong. She couldn't move them; she was adamant about
that. But things moved if she wanted them to. Or if she was likely to
hurt herself. The first time I saw

288

it I thought I was going crazy, but she just laughed. She said it had
been happening since she was a child. She decided that her father had
put so much love into building the house for her that some of it had
lingered behind to look after her when he was gone. I don't know how
true it was, but it was a nice story. I'd have loved her without all
that stuff, but with it, I just couldn't fight it off. Jane seemed so
ordinary next to her.

?The relationship lasted about two years, until she got pregnant with
Gina. The baby was mine and we both knew it. She and Philip had been
going through one of their bad spells, and he was sleeping in one of the
other bedrooms. I guess as soon as she suspected she was carrying she
rectified that situation, because as far as I'm aware he never
questioned that he was Gina's father. Up until then we'd been planning
to come clean and start a new life together. I was going to tell Jane,
she was going to tell Philip, and then we were going to live happily
ever after at Syracousse. I wanted us to have a clean break, to move
away, but she'd never leave that house.?He glanced sorrowfully at the
old woman in the wheelchair. ?Not of her own free will at any rate.

?Somehow the pregnancy brought the reality of the situation home to her,
and she changed her mind about divorcing Philip. She was frightened of
what people would say. How we would be ostracized. It wasn't really done
in those days. Not around here. Streatford's always been about twenty
years behind the rest of the world. In some ways I was relieved when she
told me. Underneath everything, I was as afraid as she was. Probably
more.? He looked up and smiled. ?Men have never been too brave in
matters of the heart, have they? Still,?he nodded to himself, as he
stared back into the distance, as if the past were playing itself out on
the horizon, ?I would have done it, even though it would have broken
Jane's heart and been the end of my career. I would have given it all up
for Camilla if she'd wanted me to. But she didn't, and there

289

was no way I could carry on with things the way they had been. Not now
that I knew that it would remain an affair forever. It was as if it
suddenly had become sordid. Something to be ashamed of.

?The first year after the baby came was the worst. Every time I saw
Camilla out with that pram, and then the pushchair, I felt as if someone
were pulling my guts out with a hook. My little baby girl who didn't
even know I existed. My life was on autopilot. Everywhere I went I
seemed to see their faces. I thought it would be the death of me, I
really did. All that pain was eating me up from the inside and I
couldn't see an end to it.

And then something happened to end all that. Jane got pregnant, and
Kelly came along. After that, the pain just seemed to die away. Not all
at once, and not completely, but I had my own family to think about
then. Kelly changed the world for me. Everything she did fascinated and
amazed me. It still does. I still thought about Camilla and Gina, but I
could never imagine hurting Kelly. Not even Camilla was worth that to
me.? He squeezed the small, withered hand of the woman beside him as if
in apology.

?There was still something between us and always would be, so when
Philip ...?He stumbled, trying to find the right words. ?When Philip
happened it was me she called. My direct line, not the switchboard. She
wanted me to take Gina. To tell the truth, she didn't want Philip's
family to have her.?His voice dropped to a painful whisper. ?But I
couldn't. I wouldn't.?

Listening to Jack's story, Rob found himself dragged back into his own
memories. Standing in the kitchen at Syracousse looking at that awful,
bleeding body, the knife planted in its chest.

?What did she say happened that day??

?That the knife just flew out of her hand. They'd been having an
argument, and she was thinking how much easier life would be if he was
dead, and then bang. The knife

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was gone.?His breath hitched for a second. ?And so was Philip.?

In Rob's mind, the memory was reliving itself in splitscreen. Gina
outside. He never shuts up. Never. I wish he'd just die. Camilla Grace
inside, wishing her husband dead as vehemently as her daughter, probably
more so, that sharp knife chopping up and down in her hand. Why had they
never thought of her? Why? Because we were kids, that's why. Because
when you're kids, adults don't really exist, do they? Not for stuff like
this, not for magic.

Rob leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees; his fingers
interlocked to stop their shaking from seeming so visible. ?Did you
believe her??

Jack sighed and frowned slightly. ?Yes, I guess I did in the main. I
believed that she hadn't wanted to kill Philip, and I believed that the
knife did just shoot through the air like she said it did. But I didn't
believe it was nothing to do with her. I figured she had subconscious
telekinetic powers or something, and her hate for him was that strong at
that moment that her subconscious just took over.? He took a sideways
glance at Rob, as if to see whether the younger man was laughing, before
he continued.

?If anyone had asked me even a few months before if she was capable of
it, I would have said no without hesitation, but until then, I'd only
seen good things come out of that strange power. You know, protective
things.? He let out a long sigh.

?I guess that somewhere in the back of my mind, I'd been worrying about
something like this happening ever since I heard about that dog falling
into the fire. A dog falling into a fire and not able to get itself out?
I'd have a hard time believing that story from anyone, let alone someone
as high-strung as Camilla. No, it didn't make any sense. And my daughter
lived in that house. Yes, after hearing about the puppy I think I was
always worried that this strange stuff was getting out of control, and I
was right. All I can be grateful for, sick as it sounds, is that it

291

was Philip Grace and not Gina who ended up on that kitchen floor.?

Rob felt like the world had tilted all over again, and his stomach
flipped. Teacher. He was talking about Teacher.

?Are you saying that you think what happened to the dog was Camilla's
fault, not Gina's??

Jack shook his head impatiently. ?Why should it have had anything to do
with Gina? I told you, this stuff was going on before Gina was born, and
anyway, Camilla never liked dogs. She thought they were dirty and
clumsy. They made her nervous. I can imagine how angry she was when
Philip brought that puppy back to the house. She would have been
livid.?He paused for a moment, and looked at Rob.

?Are you saying you kids all thought it was Gina? You thought she did
it? You thought she made that dog go into the fire??

Rob nodded slowly. ?Yeah, we thought she did it. We thought she killed
Philip Grace, too.?He flinched, thinking back to that day in the
kitchen, the three of them running and running, leaving Gina standing
and staring in horror. His voice fell to a whisper. ?Worse than that,
she believed she'd done it, too. She's believed it all these years.?

The two men sat in silence for a moment, awed by the awfulness of it
all, before Rob spoke. ?But you know what's worse? I think we were all
wrong. In fact, I'd bet every penny I've got in the bank that we were
all wrong, all of us except Carrie-Anne. I think she was closer to the
truth than anyone.?He looked at Jack. ?I'll tell you on the way home.
I'll tell you about that day, and then I'll tell you about all the shit
that's been happening since I got back, finishing with what happened up
at the house this morning. And then we'll go and explain to the girls
how we're going to get Tabby back and end this.?

Jack pulled himself to his feet and picked up the walking cane that was
resting on the back of the bench. He

292

leaned heavily on it as Rob carefully turned Camilla's wheelchair around
to push her indoors.

?Rob.?The older man's hand was on his arm. ?Am I going to have to tell
them??

Rob didn't have to ask who. Gina and Kelly. He nodded, wondering how his
heart could get any heavier.

?Yeah, I think you are. I think the time for secrets is over, don't you??

Jack nodded, the answer expected. ?Well, let's go and get it done then.?

293

Chapter-Thirty-nine

Rob noticed the two women had opened a bottle of wine, and were both
nursing half-full glasses, as he opened the door to the sitting room.
Even so, he could feel the cool air of tension between Gina and Kelly.

?Dad, what are you doing here??

Jack had come in behind Rob, leaning heavily on his cane, probably more
from the weight he was carrying inside him than any pressure on his hip.
When she saw him, Kelly leapt to her feet.

?Is there any news? Have the police found something??

Jack touched her on the arm and shook his head, keeping his gaze low.
Rob wondered how the old man could bear the strain as he watched Jack's
eyes flick between his two daughters, one blonde, one brunette, as
different as yin and yang.

Nodding Jack toward the armchair under the bay window, Rob sat on the sofa.

?I think we've figured out where we've been going wrong. Carrie was
halfway there. She realized that Gina didn't have anything to do with
Teacher's death or

294

Philip's. She figured out that Gina had never had any kind of power at
all. It was the house that had the power. Syracousse did those terrible
things, and I think Carrie thought it had done them for Gina. Because
that was what she wanted. To protect her.?

He looked up at Gina, whose perfectly made-up blue eyes were wide and
watery. Her hand trembled around the forgotten wine glass she held.

?You mean I didn't do any of it? Not the broken glass, not anything??She
paused for a second, almost unable to get her breath to speak. ?I didn't
do it. I didn't do any of it.?She moaned slightly. ?But it's still my
fault. The house did those terrible things because of me, because I
thought them.?

?No, no, no.?Rob shook his head. ?This is where Carrie's theory, if it
was what she was thinking and trying to get us to realize, is only
partway right. After all the things Sharnice said, and the message on my
computer, we automatically thought it was Gina the house wanted back,
but we've been thinking of the wrong girl.?He leaned forward in his
chair, his voice soft.

?It's not you the house wants, Gina, It's your mother. Camilla. The
little girl it was built for. The little girl who lived there all her
life. It wasn't your thoughts Syracousse was tuned into all those years
ago. You just happened to have some of the same angry thoughts at the
same time.?

Gina was shaking her head, gazing at some spot on the carpet. ?But that
can't be right, it can't be right. What about all the things that
happened when there was only me there? What about the things that
happened around you? She wasn't even there for most of them.?

Rob shrugged. ?You were the most important thing in her life. Syracousse
would have known that. If Camilla wanted you safe and happy, then I
should imagine the house would do its best to make that happen.? His
voice rose slightly, forcing Gina to meet his gaze. ?Don't you see what
this means? You can let it all go now. It was nothing

295

to do with you. You're as much a victim of all this as Teacher and Philip.?

Tears were streaming down Gina's cheeks, her lifetime of composure
ebbing away with them. ?But you all thought it was me. I thought it was
me. How could a house do anything? How? And even if it could, why start
again now? It's crazy. The whole thing is crazy.?

?I agree. It's crazy, but I think it's true. I think after Camilla and
you left, it just waited for her to come back, like a dog waiting for
its owner. Just waited for all those years. It probably would have
waited forever if those school kids hadn't broken in and talked about
you wanting the house to crumble, and how your mother was locked up and
never coming out.?Gina flinched at the mention of her mother, and Rob
wished they had time to let her take all this in slowly, especially as
the worst was yet to come. Jack still had to tell his part in
everything, and the clock was ticking around to that.

?It's taking its revenge on us. Maybe it loved us a little as well, and
what did we do? We all abandoned it and separated it from the one person
it loved the best. The one person it had done everything to make happy.?

Gina's head was shaking. ?But what can we do? Is it going to try to kill
us all??

Rob's voice was firm, and this time he looked at Kelly as well. ?No. No,
it's not, because we're going to give it what it wants. We're going to
take your mother up there. Jack spoke to Keery on our way back here, and
said that he wants to take her out for the day tomorrow with you, under
the guise of seeking out any little hidey-holes at Syracousse you might
know about that the police might have missed. Maybe if we take Camilla
there, the house will give us Tabby back. Maybe it'll finish all this.?

Her face full of fear, Gina met his eyes. ?Yes, but how? How will all
this end??

Rob didn't have an answer.

?But why the hell did it take Tabby in the first place?

296

And where have you been with my father? What does he have to do with all
this??Kelly's voice was sharp, and Rob could hear the panic and
confusion rising in it. He looked up at Jack, who let out a long, heavy
sigh.

?Why don't you go and put a pot of coffee on or something, Rob??

?Are you sure??He studied the wrinkled, worn face and saw that the older
man's eyes, although tired and bloodshot, held an expression of steel.

?Yes, I'm sure. This is something I need to do on my own.?

Nodding, Rob got to his feet and headed out to the corridor, giving the
other man's shoulder a squeeze as he passed, then shutting the door and
heading into the kitchen where he stood leaning against the breakfast
bar, his arms folded, waiting for the fallout. He didn't bother filling
the kettle. Coffee wasn't going to cure this. He didn't really think
anything could cure this.

297

The scorpion scuttled by, six legs tapping loudly against the dusty
wooden floor, its enormous stinger waving in their direction as it
paused before running toward them, stopping angrily when it reached the
barrier of Jason's coat and sneakers, which made a semi-circle from the
wall, he, Tabby and Teacher were sitting against. Somehow it seemed
these creatures of the house's imagination couldn't cross the barrier of
his clothing. Two unreals don't make a real, Jason had supposed. Maybe
his lack of substance and theirs just couldn't connect, like something
in an old Star Trek episode. Or maybe the creatures couldn't get near
them because Tabby, the only flesh-and-blood entity present, believed
they were safe behind their wall of fabric. The old trick of mind over
matter.

Whatever the reason, the huge, shining bug with the judge's old and
wizened face grotesquely stretched across it, sneered from the other
side of the black leather jacket but approached no closer. The blood-red
eyes burned madly as its pincers clicked and clacked like the clenching
and unclenching of a fist.

298

?Look where you've brought us,?it hissed, the open mouth revealing
nothing but darkness. ?Look what you did to me! LOOK WHAT YOU DID TO ME!?

It paced up and down in front of them, making quick, precise turns from
right to left, the hellish version of a mythical centaur, cursing and
swearing under whatever repulsive breath it had.

Tabby trembled, and snuggled in tighter between the man and the dog,
tucking her face away. ?I don't like it,?she whispered. ?Make it go
away, please, make it go away.?

Jason squeezed her tight. Disturbing as the sight of the creature was,
Jason felt no fear of it, aware that it was a trick, a game, and that
the judge wherever he was, was not part of this beast in front of him.
Tabby, however, brave as she was, was only four, and there was only so
much she could take.

?Oh, you don't want to be scared of a silly thing like that. Look at it.
It looks ridiculous.?He kept his voice light and cheerful. ?It's like
those boys at school who think saying rude words is really big and
clever. Do you know boys like that??

He felt the small head, hidden by curls nodding against his chest.

?And what do you do when those boys bore you by being silly??

This time there was a pause and then a shrug.

?Oh come on, you must do something. What do you do??

?I stick my tongue out at them.?Her voice was quiet, but he could feel
the small body relaxing slightly, and he laughed softly.

?Oh you do, do you? Right. Then that's what we'll do.?

Leaning forward slightly, he stuck his tongue right out at the
abomination that was calling his mother a whore in that unnatural
sibilant voice. ?Na, na, na, naaa, na, you can't get to us!?

Tabby's head tentatively turned to see what he was

299

doing, so he repeated the action. She glanced at Teacher, who let out a
playful bark.

?Come on! I feel silly doing this all on my own.?Grinning at Tabby, he
nudged her in the ribs, egging her on. Make it a game, Jase. Make it fun.

This time he put two fingers in his mouth and stretched it out sideways,
wiggling his tongue. There was a giggle beside him, and then Tabby did
the same.

Within five minutes, they were laughing so hard that the scorpion hissed
and spat before wandering off.

Jason kissed her on the forehead, still laughing. ?See. It's only scary
if you make it that way.?

Tabby nodded, and he could see that, for the moment at least, she was
convinced.

The unexpected pain threw him back against the wall, his head hitting it
hard as he felt himself sucked away, nausea flooding his system as a
weight landed on his chest, bright light filling his vision--there was
something on his face, something covering his mouth and why couldn't he
move, why couldn't he move?--and then a face loomed over him, a face he
didn't recognize, its mouth shouting instructions to someone, one of the
people whose shadows flitted across the whiteness, and beyond it all he
could hear an awful long tone, like the tuneless note you hear when
someone's hung up the phone and left you unwanted on the other end, and
then the white was turning to gray. ...

Something tugged hard at his sleeve, pulling him, dragging him back to
consciousness, and he tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't let go,
whining and yanking, and it sounded just like a dog, just like a dog. ...

?Teacher??His voice sounded raw, and he opened his eyes to see the bleak
darkness of Syracousse spread out before him. His head hurt where he'd
banged it. Figure that out. His heart pounded rapidly, and as he glanced
around, he

300

listened for that rhythmic bellows sound deep inside him. It was still
there. Still definitely there.

Tabby stared at him, trembling with more fear than he'd seen since his
part in this madness had begun.

?Are you okay, sweetheart??

She gazed at him, almost distrusting. ?Why did you go thin like that? I
almost couldn't see you. Where were you going? Were you leaving me
here??The panic was rising, her voice thinning out as it rose in pitch.
?Don't leave me here, please don't leave me here.?

?Hey, hey. . .?Trying to stop the tears that brimmed in her eyes, he
tilted her chin so that she was looking up into his face. ?I promised
you I wouldn't leave until you were safely out of here, and I'm not
going anywhere until then. Me and Teacher are staying right here. Isn't
that right, Teach??He looked over to the dog, who barked in agreement
and then laid his head in the little girl's lap, covering it completely.

?You promise??

?I promise. Now you curl up with Teacher and Mr. Pickles and try to get
some sleep. Okay??

?You won't go anywhere??

Jason shook his head firmly. ?I won't move an inch.?

When she had finally settled and was dozing, mumbling quietly in her
peaceless sleep, Jason let out a long sigh and shut his own eyes. Come
on, Robster, come on. I don't think we've got much more time. He paused
in the thought, a wave of sadness flowing over him. / don't think I've
got much more time. 301

The sound of sobbing escaped the sitting room as the door was flung open
and Kelly ran down the corridor into the kitchen. She faced Rob, her
chest heaving with emotion, her pale skin deathly. He stepped toward her.

?Kelly ...?

?Don't.?Her voice was like ice, and she held up one hand to stop him
from coming closer. ?Don't. Whatever you've got to say, I don't want to
hear it.?The hate in her eyes stabbed at the very core of him.

?Kelly, I'm so sorry, but this isn't my fault.?

?Isn't your fault??she sneered as her voice rose, her mouth quivering.
?If you hadn't come back, then none of this would have happened. None of
it.?

?But it already has happened. It happened a long time ago.?He reached
for her, wanting to comfort her, but she pushed him away.

?But I wouldn't have known about it! It wouldn't have happened for me!
And what about Tabby? Would she still be here if you hadn't come back?
Can you answer me honestly that all this would still have gone on??She ran a

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hand through her hair, pacing sideways and up and down, as if the
strength of what she was feeling inside made it impossible for her to
stand still. ?None of this has anything to do with me and Tabby.? She
paused for a moment to point an accusing finger at Rob. ?We don't have
any sordid little secrets that need digging up. We've just been sucked
into your mess.? She spat the words at him, tears now rolling down her
cheeks as Rob stood helpless, no words coming to him.

?I wish I'd never laid eyes on you. I hate you for what you've done to
me.?Jack had followed Kelly out of the lounge and now stood behind her.
She ignored him, her eyes burning into Rob's.

?I hate you, Robert Black. And I never want to see you again.?She
paused, sucking in a deep breath, trying to control herself. ?I just
wanted you to know that.?

Turning on her heel, she shoved Jack into the wall and stormed down the
corridor and out the front door, slamming it hard behind her. Rob felt
his heart break with the sound. Standing in the doorway, Jack seemed to
have shrunk, his body hollowed out somehow, his shoulders slumped. His
eyes met Rob's and for a few seconds they said nothing, but stared at
each other in the company of Gina's distant crying. Eventually, Jack
broke the gaze.

?I'd better go after her. Will you look after Gina??

Rob nodded. ?You know we still have to do this thing tomorrow, Jack. If
we want to get Tabby back.?

Jack paused and looked back over his shoulder. Rob didn't like what he
saw in the man's eyes. The way he was looking at him with a mixture of
dislike and disgust. He thinks this is all my fault, too. He wishes I'd
stayed away. He thinks I have no heart.

?Yes, Rob, I know we do, and I'll be there. Just let me get through
tonight first, all right? I've just wrecked my little girl's memories,
and God knows what that other woman in your lounge is feeling. I think
we should worry about them tonight. The rest can wait till tomorrow.?

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He turned away without saying another word and limped slowly to the
door. It shut more quietly this time, and then it was just Gina and him.
Last two of the four. Pushing himself away from the breakfast bar, Rob
walked on heavy legs back to the sitting room where he stood for a
moment in the doorway watching Gina crying into her hands, her hair
loose from her ponytail covering her face.

?Can I come in??

She looked up and nodded, her face destroyed with emotion but still
achingly beautiful through the red blotches and the makeup that had
abandoned the carefully applied areas of the morning.

Rob refilled her glass from the red wine bottle on the table, and took
Kelly's glass for himself before sitting on the floor in front of Gina.
?I think you should drink some of that. You need it. It'll calm you down.?

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their drinks, Rob watching Gina
as she stared out through the bay window at nothing and everything.
Eventually, she brought her liquid eyes to his, a half smile wistful on
her lips.

?I knew today wasn't going to be a normal day, but this ... God, I
wasn't expecting this.?She shrugged helplessly, biting back a sob. ?How
am I supposed to deal with this?? She slid off the armchair, and sat on
the floor by Rob, her knees drawn up under her chin. ?I don't know what
to feel. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. What a mess. What an
awful, awful mess.?

The weight of it all seemed to be making Rob's muscles ache as he
struggled, as ever, to find the right words.

?There are positive things that have come out of all this, too. Try to
think about those.?

?Like what??

Rob put his arm around her, letting her head fall against his shoulder
and feeling like a coward. He didn't want to look into her eyes. He'd
had enough of studying other people's suffering close up. It seemed that
some things hadn't changed in all this. He was still a selfish bastard.

304

The memory of the hate in Kelly's eyes made him flinch. Yeah, there
weren't many people left who had a high opinion of him, and he couldn't
blame them. He didn't have too high an opinion of Rob Black himself. He
let out a long breath before speaking.

?Well, at least you know now that none of the strangeness was due to
you. You don't have any uncontrollable powers to be afraid of. No more
guilt. You didn't kill poor Teacher, and you didn't kill your father.?

She stiffened against him, her words bitter.

?No. No, I didn't kill him, but even if I had, I wouldn't have killed my
father, would I? Philip Grace was never my father. My father's that
stranger who just walked out the door.?

Rob mentally cursed himself. How could he be so good at words on paper,
and so shit when it came to the words that counted? He rested his head
gently on her hair, feeling the heat coming through her skin.

?Don't think like that. Philip was your father. In all the ways that
count, anyway. He brought you up. He loved you. And you loved him. Those
are the things you have to remember.?

?I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember anything. I feel
like the person I always thought I was has just been wiped away as if I
never existed. Worse than that, all the people I thought I knew, it
turns out I didn't. I don't know who to be. I don't know who I am.?She
sniffed loudly, the sound making Rob smile. It was an un-Gina sound, and
yet was so natural.

?You can be whoever you want to be now. No guilt. No fear. Just
beautiful Gina. You can be the person you were meant to be.?

?You make it sound so easy.?

?It's as easy as you want it to be.?

She looked up at him and smiled, strands of hair tugging across her face
where they had become trapped in his shoulder. ?I feel like you're the
only person in the world I

305

know, Robert Black. I think I know you better than I know myself. I
recognize you. Inside and out.?Her finger reached up and traced his
mouth. ?That same smile you had all those years ago. I always had faith
in that smile.?

As she stared into him with those gorgeous eyes that used to keep him
awake as a boy, he felt his stomach flipping slightly. Oh Christ no,
don't even think about it. Not now. Not ever. It's Kelly you love,
however mad and hurt she is now. Don't even think about doing this. It's
not fair. It's not fair on anyone.

His mouth felt dry, and he didn't trust himself to speak, suddenly aware
with every inch of his body of how close Gina was to him. Her voice was
soft and sweet.

?I've often thought about you, you know. I guess it was hard to forget
you, seeing your picture in the papers and in all those bookshop windows
over the years. I'd buy your books just so I could hear your voice in my
head. Stupid, huh??

Rob shifted slightly, feeling awkward. God, it seemed like her body was
giving out so much heat. Was it her or was it him? Who the hell knew;
the only thing he was sure of was that he shouldn't be feeling like
this. He shouldn't be wanting like this.

?Look, Gina ...?

Her finger came up and pressed itself to his lips, sending Shockwaves
exploding through him.

?Let me speak, okay??She pulled herself upright, keeping her face close
to his. Rob groaned internally. Oh shit, this was hard. This was very
hard. Worse than that, he was hard. Was she doing this to him
deliberately? Was she still a manipulative little girl underneath all
this emotion, toying with him like she did when they were kids? Her
words dripped like liquid into his ears, tempting him, teasing him.

?Have you ever wondered how things would have been between us if that
summer had never happened??

Her face held all the vulnerability that it had hidden

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during her childhood, and Rob glanced away in an effort to keep his
resolve. Yeah, you're tempted, Black. You're more than tempted. But
don't blame her for it; you've always been a grade-A shit to the ladies.
His voice shook slightly.

?But that summer did happen. You can't just wipe it away.?

Leaning forward, Gina's breath whispered past his face. ?You're not
answering my question, Rob. Did you ever wonder? Or was it only me??

A vein started to throb in his head. ?Yeah. Yeah, I wondered. Sometimes.?

She watched him for a few seconds, before she spoke, tears reforming in
the corners of her eyes. ?It's been a long and terrible day, Rob. I lost
my identity today, and now I want to stop thinking for a few hours. I
want to stop thinking with you.?Her lips brushed his, and the moan
escaped Rob before he could bite it back, just as it had all those
summers ago.

?Help me, Rob. Help me be whole again. You're the only one who can.?Her
tongue slipped into his mouth, and hating himself, his resolve, his
thoughts of Kelly melted away.

?It was meant to be,?she whispered, before their mouths were unable to
speak any more.

307

It was half past three in the morning, but the moon was high beneath the
clear sky, and as Rob looked out the window over the garden from the
darkness of the bedroom, he could see all the way down the length of the
lawn to the shadows of the garage a hundred yards away. He had just come
back from a quick trip downstairs. He'd put on jeans and without a
t-shirt on, goose pimples covered his arms and chest, but he didn't
mind. In some ways the cold felt good. He sucked hard on his cigarette,
cancer the least of his worries, as Gina stirred in the bed behind him.

?Where did you go??

Her voice sounded drowsy, as if she'd been on the verge of sleep. He
envied her that. Sleep wasn't something he could imagine for himself
tonight.

?I phoned the hospital to check on Jason.?He didn't turn around, but
heard the rustle of sheets as she pulled herself upright.

?Has there been any change??

?No. He's still in a coma and needing the ventilator.?And they almost
lost him a couple of hours ago. He didn't

308

need to tell her that. That was something he wanted to carry on his own.
His own private guilt.

?Why don't you come back to bed??

Glancing over his shoulder, Rob looked at Gina, who was naked from the
waist up, leaning on one arm, hair tumbling free over her shoulder, and
he felt nothing except the urge for her to be gone. Out of his bed, out
of his house and out of his life. Oh yes, he'd really fucked up this time.

?I don't think so. I'm going to get dressed and make some coffee. You
stay here.?

Even through the gloom, he could see her face clouding over.

?Are you feeling guilty about Kelly? I know she'll be upset, but she'll
get over it. It's not as if you've known her that long. Once this is all
over then we can go anywhere we want. Get away from this town for good,
and just be you and me. Imagine that, Rob. Just you and me.?

Rob sighed and paused on his way to the door. There was no easy way to
do this. His voice sounded cold in his head, devoid of emotion, detached
from the situation.

?Look, Gina, there is no you and me. Maybe once there could have been,
but not anymore. All we've done tonight is find that out. It was a
mistake, and if I could undo it, I would. I love Kelly, and I can't
change that, not even for you.?He paused before adding, ?I'm sorry. I
really am, but there's nothing I can do about it.?

She looked like she'd been slapped in the face, an expression he'd seen
on so many women's faces over the years when he'd destroyed their
illusions of love. He'd never expected to see it on Gina's, though.
Strange how life worked out.

As he picked his t-shirt up from the floor where he'd abandoned it after
ripping it off so eagerly only hours before--Oh yes, you're a shit all
right--he could hear Gina's breath coming rapidly from the bed.

?I don't believe you.?

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?Believe me, Gina. Please.?There was a hint of the spoiled child he'd
known all those years ago in her voice, and Rob wondered whether a man
had ever done anything other than proclaim undying love for Gina in all
her adult life. Probably not. And a month or so ago, he'd have been one
of them.

?Well, maybe I'll tell your precious Kelly all about tonight. Tell her
how you needed no encouragement. She won't ever want you back then, will
she? Not perfect Kelly who everyone cares so much about.?

She sounded bitter and harsh, and Rob couldn't blame her for that, but
he didn't have the energy for rows and recriminations. He tugged his
t-shirt over his head and as he walked to the door, he said, ?Do
whatever you have to, Gina. This is my fault, not yours. I'll always
care about you, but I can't make myself be in love with you.?His
weariness echoed in his voice. ?If you want to tell Kelly, then go
ahead. I can't stop you.?

He pulled the door closed behind him and padded down the stairs. It
wasn't until he was in the kitchen that he turned a light on, as if he
could somehow find solace in the gloom. Gina didn't follow him down, and
for that he was grateful.

310

?He's here.?

Rob had been watching for Jack's blue Escort from the front room window,
and it pulled up outside the house at exactly nine o'clock. What kind of
night had Jack and Kelly had? As sleepless as his own? He pushed the
memory of his own night's activities aside as he felt his stomach twist
with his old friend guilt. What was done couldn't be undone, they'd all
learned that, and he'd done enough dwelling on the past to last a
lifetime. What would be would be.

He grabbed his keys, eager to get out of the house, and was pleased to
see Gina waiting by the door. She'd eventually gotten up at five-thirty,
and there'd been no more mention of Kelly and love. Instead, she cooked
them both a breakfast neither of them really wanted to eat, and drank
endless cups of coffee with him, talking in that soft, sweet voice of
times gone by, of Jason and Carrie, reminding him of the good times so
easily hidden by the bad.

Her pleasantness at first had surprised Rob, and then

311

made him uneasy. She was being a little too nice, like someone who knew
she was going to get her own way in the end. He didn't trust her, and
that wasn't her fault, but common sense told him you couldn't trust
someone who'd lost everything. They had nothing left to lose.

?Come on. Let's go.?

He pulled the door shut behind him and trotted down the path to the car,
taking the front passenger seat. Glancing over his shoulder, seeing only
Gina getting in, Jack pre-empted his question.

?Kelly's going to meet us up at Syracousse in an hour.?

Swallowing his disappointment, Rob nodded. So she hadn't wanted to come.
God, all he wanted to do was see her, make sure she was all right. He
had to make sure they put everything right. For all their sakes.

They drove out to Hurstone in silence, the bright eyes in Jack's craggy,
time-weary face occasionally darting to the rear-view mirror, not to
check on traffic, but to peek at his other daughter, who sat so still
and quiet in the backseat. Rob stared out at the passing visions of
normality, people emerging from their houses to go about their daily
business, and wondered if they were the only ones whose lives had been
tinged with madness, or whether each street had its dark and unnatural
secrets, the inhabitants of which were too scared to share.

Jack pulled up on the gravel in front of the imposing building instead
of using the visitors' parking lot to the rear and turned off the
engine, before glancing over to Rob.

?Are you going to wait here??

Rob nodded. ?Yeah. I think just you and Gina should go in.?He looked
behind him at the woman whose face had grown pale. ?Are you okay? It's
been a long time.?

She nodded, regaining her composure. ?I'll be fine.?

Sliding out of her seat, she slammed the door and waited for Jack. He
took a deep breath before joining her in the fresh air, leaving Rob
alone with his thoughts.

312

Gina was going up the stairs ahead of him, and Jack took two painful
steps at a time to catch up. He needed to talk to her before the day's
events swallowed them up. Touching her gently, he stopped her before she
buzzed for reception to let them in.

?Gina, I just wanted to say ... I'm sorry about running off like that
after Kelly last night. I knew you'd be safe with Rob, and she's very
fragile at the moment, with Tabby missing. I didn't want to leave her on
her own. It doesn't mean I don't care about you. I care about you very
much. I always have, and I regret not being braver and bringing you back
into our house, our family, all those years ago.?

Gina stared at him, her face noncommittal. If only he knew her better,
then maybe he'd be able to read that expression, to guess what she was
thinking, to find the best way to help her. So many ifs, and only
himself to blame for not knowing the answers. Well, maybe it wasn't too
late to try to build some of those bridges. He glanced down at his
knotted hand that touched her arm. He didn't have enough time left to
waste with wishful thinking and regrets. It was time to start taking
action and trying to put things right.

?You know, I was thinking that maybe after all this is over we could get
to know each other a bit better. I'd like the opportunity if you'd let me.?

Her eyes flitted away toward the heavy door, and Jack sighed. ?Well,
think about it anyway.?

The nurses had Camilla dressed in a cream linen trouser suit and ready
for them in the reception hall. Jack noticed they'd even tried to put a
little makeup on her and done her hair. He watched as, trembling, Gina
stepped forward and kneeled by her mother's chair. It felt surreal to be
reunited with his first family like this. At times in his life, he'd
wondered if the three of them would ever meet with the truth out in the
open, but he'd never imagined it

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would be like this, in these terrible circumstances.

The nurse pulled him gently to one side.

?I just thought I'd let you know that Mrs. Grace is capable of walking
with some assistance. We normally walk her around for half an hour or so
each day to stop her from getting sores and to keep her muscles active.
There's no physical reason for her not to walk on her own, but she just
doesn't ever do it.?

Jack nodded. ?We'll have her back by this evening.?I hope. ?Thank you
for everything you've done to make her look special. It's nice for her
daughter to see her looking so pretty.?

Smiling gently, the nurse shook her head. ?That's no problem. Maybe
seeing her daughter again and getting out of here for a few hours will
do her some good. She's no threat to anyone, just a poor, lost old lady.
All I ask is that you take good care of her.?

?We will. Thank you.?

Looking into the kindly face to say good-bye, Jack felt like a Judas all
over again. First, he'd betrayed Camilla by not taking responsibility
for their daughter, and now he was promising to look after her when who
knew what the day would bring. What was going to happen when they got up
to the house? None of them could answer that, not even the poor, crazed
woman he was pushing down the wheelchair slope next to the stairs, and
she knew Syracousse better than anyone.

The wheels bounced loudly on the gravel as they headed to the car, and
Rob got out to help him ease Camilla into the backseat and do up her
belt. God, she was as light as a feather, and holding her in his arms
again, Jack couldn't help remembering with pain how he had carried her
so many times before, up those beautiful stairs to the bedroom, her head
thrown back and laughing. Yes, he'd been her lover and her betrayer.
Maybe if he'd done what she asked of him her sanity would have survived
that awful afternoon.

314

After stowing away the chair in the trunk he got in the front seat and
shut the door, Gina having already scrambled into the back to take her
absent mother's hand again. Jack could hear her low, painful whisper,
begging for recognition.

?It's me. It's Gina. Can you hear me, Mum? Don't you recognize me? It's
your little girl. I'm so sorry for leaving you, I'm so sorry. I won't do
it again, I promise. I won't ever leave you again. Cross my heart, Mum,
cross my heart and hope to die.?

Jack looked over at Rob, whose jaw clenched and unclenched, almost in
time with Gina's tired, quiet, shameful sobs.

?Are you ready??

Rob nodded, starting the engine.

?Let's go then.?

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Hearing the sound of tires crunching along the stones of the lane, Kelly
smiled a little with relief. Not that she would be pleased to see them,
not Rob, not her father. It was way too early for that yet, and she had
a suspicion that she would never be ready to forgive them. But standing
up here alone, even keeping her distance from the house, filled her with
an unsettling fear, like that of something you just can't quite see but
are sure is out there somewhere waiting for you. The kind of fear she
hadn't felt since she was a child not much older than Tabby. The kind of
fear that sent your imagination running wild, and was now filling her
head with images of Jason lying cold on the track. Jason who'd come up
here on his own and now lay broken and ruined in that hospital just one
breath away from death.

She shivered slightly although the breeze was mild, and walked forward
to greet the car. Yes, sometimes any kind of company was preferable to
only your own. Even that of those whose deception had stolen your
daughter and broken your heart. She'd never really understood that

316

expression before, a broken heart, but she did now, and the shards of
her splintered emotions stabbed her somewhere deep inside as Rob stepped
out of the car and walked toward her, his eyes a reflection of her own
sad weariness; For a moment, Kelly's heart squeezed a little with
remorse. But not enough. Seeing he was about to speak, she cut him off.

?I'm here to get my daughter back. Everything else can wait.?

Kelly watched him flinch as though her words were acid before she pushed
Rob aside to see the others getting out of the car. Her eyes fell to the
frail woman her father was easing into the wheelchair, and she could
almost taste the bitterness in her mouth.

?So this is what you were screwing while my mother sat at home waiting
for you.?

Jack's face spun around, so much guilt there that it seemed he was a
stranger.

?Kelly, please. Not now.?

?No accounting for taste, is there??Her pale face was flushed with
anger, and she sneered at Gina, who held the old woman's hand, tears
still wet on her cheeks. Gina's expression hardened.

?Well, that's men for you.?She smiled. ?You never can rely on them to
keep their dicks in their pants.?

The knowledge in that controlled voice shook Kelly, and she glanced over
at Rob, who had walked to the gates farther up the lane and was staring
at the house. What did Gina mean by that? He couldn't have. He wouldn't
have. The king of the meaningless fling, remember? Of course he fucked
her. You saw the way he was looking at her yesterday even when he was
telling you he loved you. Just words. Just words. You're nothing. You're
an outsider in all this. Oh, but it hurt to think of them together, one
more hurt to add to her new and painful collection. She followed the
others to join him at the gate, fighting back the tears.

317

Rob didn't look at them, but carried on gazing at Syracousse, his voice
calm.

?I think Kelly and Gina should wait out here. Jack, you and I can take
Camilla in. I think the fewer people going inside the better.?

?My mother's not going in there without me.?Gina's voice was sharp. ?We
don't know what's going to happen. Anything could happen to her.?

Jack sighed. ?The house loves Camilla. She's safe enough, but I think
Rob's right. We need you girls to be out here in case ... in case
someone has to go get help. I'd be happier if neither of you were inside.?

Kelly couldn't even bring herself to look at him. Oh, Dad, suddenly
showing so much fatherly concern for both your daughters. You're the
only one who's benefited from all this shit, aren't you? You've got
yourself a whole new pride and joy. Lucky, lucky you.

Gina refused to let go of the wheelchair, unaware of her mother's quiet,
happy humming beneath her.

?You are not going in there without me. Not with my mother. I go, or no
one goes. As the owner I can refuse to let you in and call the police if
you try. It's our house. If anyone belongs in there, we do.?

Kelly held up her hands in frustration, eager for the stalemate to be
over. Just wanting Tabby back. Tabby's pure love, unencumbered by secrets.

?I'll stay out here. Just leave me the car keys. I don't want to go in
there anyway. All of this is your mess, not mine. You lot sort it out.?

She held out her hand and Jack gave her the leather fob with the key on
it. Taking the key, she grabbed his wrist with her other hand, gripping
it tight, feeling the bones through his skin. Her voice was low and cold
as she met his gaze.

?Just get my daughter back. I don't care how you do it. Just get Tabby
back to me. You owe me and her that.?Behind her, she could hear Gina
pushing the wheelchair over

318

the gravel toward the gates where Rob was waiting. She released Jack's
wrist, but he stayed where he was, staring at her for a second.

?I love you, Kelly. More than anyone in the world. Try to remember that.
There were never any lies about that.?

?Not now, Dad. This isn't the time.?She turned away from him, and didn't
look around until she heard him moving forward, one footstep heavier
than the other as he limped to the gates.

Tears threatened her again as she watched them leaving her behind, Rob
and her father pushing open the gates, little resistance this time, Gina
resolutely pushing Camilla into the drive. Her father didn't look back,
but Rob hung behind the others and just before stepping across the
threshold of Syracousse, he looked over his shoulder, a half smile,
almost wistful, on his face, his eyes seeking hers, and in that moment
she knew that no matter what did or didn't happen with Gina last night,
he loved her, wholly and completely.

But was it enough? Would it ever be enough to make up for all this?
Kelly couldn't give him the response he wanted, no nod, or smile, or
wave of good luck. She wasn't ready to let go of her anger yet. If she
gave that up, she was terrified there would be nothing left but despair
and she would crumble. No, the anger had to stay until she had Tabby
back. Until she knew her little girl was safe. After that ... well ...
after that she'd take it one day at a time.

From behind her frozen mask of indifference, she watched the
disappointment on Rob's face before, like the others, he turned his back
on her and stepped onto the drive. Her heart froze for a moment as the
four of them moved farther away from her--farther away from safety--not
sure what she expected to happen, maybe more weeds clutching at them
crazily from the ground, but there was nothing except the sound of the
footsteps getting fainter and fainter as they walked toward the house.

319

By the time they reached the front door, all she could hear were the
birds that fluttered and flew in the trees around her, and like
characters in a silent film, she watched the others disappear inside the
house, the door left open behind them, a grinning mouth taunting her for
not venturing in.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she checked her watch. Twenty minutes
she'd give them, and if they weren't out by then, she'd call Keery, and
damn the explanation. Getting in the car, glad to be in a familiar
environment of her own, she kept her eyes firmly on the house. Twenty
minutes was going to seem like an eternity when there was nothing to do
but wait. Wait and pray.

320

The silence hung like dust in the air around the four of them as they
waited in the desolate hallway. What exactly they were waiting for, Rob
wasn't sure. Tabby to come running down the stairs? No, he couldn't see
it being quite that easy. And they hadn't considered how they were going
to get Camilla out of the house again once they'd gotten Tabby back.
What if Syracousse didn't want to let her go? What then?

?What now??Jack was so close to Rob that the feel of breath in his ear
as the policeman spoke almost made the younger man jump.

The sound of humming made them both turn around, the question forgotten.
Camilla was squirming slightly in her chair, her eyes still glazed but
with more life, more excitement, in them than they'd held for probably
years, her lips pressed together pushing out the notes of the uncomposed
music.

?Mum??Gina crouched down beside her, but the old woman ignored her, if
she was aware that Gina was there at all. Camilla's head rocked from
side to side and her

321

withered hands clenched and unclenched the padded arms of the wheelchair.

Rob looked warily around them. ?Something's happening.?Invisible
pressure was building up, he could feel it almost weighing his body
down, and a buzz, like a distant swarm of bees filled his ears. Was it
coming from inside him or out? He glanced at Jack.

?Can you hear that??

The old man nodded slowly, and Jack reached out and touched the wall at
the bottom of the curved staircase. His fingers pulled back instantly
with surprise, and he pushed them back to the smooth surface.

?The walls are vibrating.?

Camilla laughed behind them, a thin sound from a voice rusty from lack
of use. ?Oh yes!?Her voice was full of joy. ?Oh yes!?She continued her
humming, but louder this time.

Rob took hold of Jack's arm, his ears aching with the pressure. ?It's
starting,?As they stared at each other, Rob could see his own thoughts
reflected in the other man's eyes, hidden behind the determination and
strength on the glassy, gray surface. What the hell are we doing? What
the hell have we got ourselves into? How the hell is this going to end?

Rob stumbled backwards as two things happened at once. Camilla pushed
herself out of her chair and the building pressure exploded into music
around them, unbearably loud, its strength pulsing up through his body
from his feet, a symphony of sound, the instruments unrecognizable,
accompanying and overwhelming the old woman's solo humming. Jack
clutched at his ears, and Gina cringed as she grasped for her mother.

Rob watched them as if behind an invisible partition. Camilla's arms
stretched out wide, her head thrown back as she laughed and spun around
and around, pushing Gina away. Bright sunlight flashed in his eyes like
a glitterball gone mad, sunlight that couldn't be that bright,

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that couldn't be in the house, so bright that he flinched each time it
hit his eyes, squeezing them shut.

The real and the unreal were merging around him, and although he could
hear Gina calling for her mother, screaming for her above the awful
off-key music, when he opened his eyes, he caught glimpses of things
that couldn't be there, vases of flowers on sideboards that hadn't been
in place for a quarter of a century, pictures on walls, there one minute
gone the next, the images changing so quickly that he leaned back
against the vibrating wall in an effort to steady himself.

For a moment, the present came back into view, and Rob watched as
Camilla danced past him, twirling into the lounge out of sight, her
steps as light as a woman thirty years younger. Gina followed her,
screaming for her, leaving Jack and Rob alone in the hall.

?We brought her back!?Rob screamed at the walls and the ceiling. ?We
brought her back for you. To show you she's okay. She's being looked
after! Now give us Tabby! Give the little girl back. She doesn't belong
here!?

The anger in the increased volume threw Rob back against the wall, and
Jack fell into the banisters, holding on to them, his face tight with
pain. Rob's own anger rose inside, protecting him from his fear.

?Give her back! We've done what you wanted!?

The music screeched high, no tune there now, and Rob screamed in pain,
stuffing his hands into his ears, trying in vain to block it out as
sunlight blinded him once again. Forcing his eyes open, for a moment he
forgot the whistling agony in his eardrums, as he gazed at the wall
opposite to him. The Graces' hallway mirror was back and in it he could
see his reflection, but not his reflection from now, the reflection of
the little boy he had been all those years ago. But that wasn't what
made his breath catch. Not the image of him, he barely glanced at that.
It was the figures standing behind his reflection that made him stare.
The little boy with the dark hair hanging over

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his eyes, one hand, one unscarred hand holding the fur of the golden
retriever that sat, panting, next to him. Jason? Was that Jason and Teacher?

Jason's reflection smiled at him, a cheeky grin Rob had never forgotten,
and pointed one finger sideways. ?Upstairs, Rob.?Rob tilted his head.
The voice that came from the mirror was Jason's, but not his childhood
voice. This one was deeper. This was the one he had listened to only
days ago. ?We're upstairs, Robster. We can't get down.?Teacher barked,
and the sound of that more than anything else, brought tears to Rob's
eyes. The young Jason's smile fell. ?But hurry. We haven't got much time.?

With a blast of music, the mirror exploded, sending glass everywhere,
the shards cutting the back of Rob's hands and arms as he lifted them to
protect himself. How can glass that doesn't exist cut me? How can that
be? He pushed the questions aside and stumbled toward where Jack was
curled around the banisters. Jason was helping him, God only knew how,
but he was sure of it. The message in the mirror came despite the house,
not because of it. Jason and Teacher were helping him, and crazy as that
sounded, even amongst all this madness, he held on to the thought, it
refilling his muscles and tired spirit with energy.

He tugged at Jack's sleeve, making the old man look up at him. Blood was
trickling down one side of his face and into the rivulets of his sagging
neck, and Rob knew without the help of any doctors that one of Jack's
eardrums had burst. He would have liked to spend a few minutes checking
that Jack was going to be okay, but that was going to have to wait.

?I think Tabby's upstairs!?Rob shouted over the music whose volume
seemed to have lessened a little, knowing that Jack would only have
roaring deafness on one side. ?You go out to Kelly! I'll get Tabby and
then bring the others out. Go!?

He turned to take the stairs and felt a hand clutching at

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his leg. Using Rob's body as a post, Jack dragged himself to his feet,
one hand gripping Rob's shoulder.

?She's my granddaughter!?he yelled back into Rob's face. ?I'm coming
with you!?

Looking at Jack's exhausted determination, Rob nodded. They didn't have
time to argue, and he guessed Jack had his own guilt to work off in
here. ?Come on then!?

Trying to keep a firm hold of the banister, Rob made his way up the
stairs that were moving under him, sliding this way and that, teasing
and taunting his feet, which were desperate to find some kind of secure
purchase. Glancing backwards, he could see Jack several steps behind,
both hands on the rail, feet tentatively moving forward. Rob felt the
urgency eating away inside him. What was it Jason had said? We don't
have much time. He gazed up at the stairway that twisted and turned like
a snake before him.

?Oh bollocks,?he muttered under his breath before closing his eyes and
launching himself upwards, taking the stairs two at a time. His feet hit
their targets, slipping at the last two, but only enough to make him
stumble, not lose his balance completely.

When he opened his eyes, relieved to have what felt like stable ground
beneath him, the first thing he noticed was the darkness. He could still
see the sunlight from below, but there was no light at all on this upper
level of the house, and it took him a few moments to adjust to the
gloom. Peering over the banister, he saw Jack, still climbing, halfway
down. The old man looked up, and waved Rob on with one arm. ?I'll catch
up! Find Tabby!?

Turning his back on the brightness, Rob stared at the dark ahead of him.
This wasn't the house as he remembered it. This had a feel of vastness
that Syracousse never had. Looking into the blackness, Rob had a feeling
that if he walked into that corridor, he'd be walking forever. Fear
chewed at his stomach again, and he could almost feel the house mocking
him. Come and play, Robster. Step inside. Knowing that the words came
from his own head, his own

325

imagination, didn't stop the shiver running down his spine. He had a
feeling that if this mad place could speak, then that's exactly what it
would be saying.

After the wildness downstairs, this sudden quiet stillness unsettled Rob
and he felt as if he were walking into the dragon's lair, only in this
case, unlike all the fairy stories, the dragon wasn't sleeping; it was
very much awake. Awake and angry. Knowing there was nowhere else to go,
he edged tentatively forward, his feet shuffling along the floorboards,
fear gnawing at his stomach at the thought of chasms that dropped
forever and ever opening up beneath him, hidden by the blackness.
Ignoring the pain that burst into life from his bleeding cuts, he held
his arms out in front of him, feeling the warm liquid running into his
sleeves cooling against his skin, and stretched out his fingers,
desperate to find a wall to guide himself along, not wanting to play
this insane game of blind man's bluff where the rules could change at
any minute.

?Where is she, Jase? Where the fuck is she?? he muttered under his
breath, immediately regretting it, the words deadened and lifeless in
the heart of the house, eaten up by the dark. With every step, the dim
glow from the stairs behind him faded, and he fought the urge to turn
and run. There was a little girl in here somewhere, and if she was
having to cope with her fear, then he was going to have to do the same.
The thought didn't give him any more courage, but his feet continued
their hesitant moves forward despite himself.

Feeling something soft make contact with his left shoe, Rob let out a
gasp of air that in his head was a skull-splitting scream too terrifying
to be released without making him flee as far from this place as he
could get. Oh Jesus Oh Jesus Oh Jesus ... Freezing on the spot, he
waited to feel it, whatever it was, slither and slide against his leg,
or like the ivy, squeeze around him. His heart hammered so hard in his
chest he couldn't distinguish between the beats. Where the hell was
Jack? How far behind could he be?

326

Rob waited, counting to sixty in his head, but the thing beside his foot
didn't move, and holding his breath, he crouched down, one invisible,
shaking hand reaching for it, ready to recoil in an instant. He senses
recognized the feel immediately. Soft, worn leather. Picking the item
up, Rob held it to his face, the smell confirming what touch had already
told him. Running his hands over it, feeling the cigarettes and lighter
in the top pocket, his fear was for a moment overrun by his confusion.
This was Jason's jacket. He was sure of it. When they'd found him in the
lane, he'd seen the pack of Marlboros resting in it. But how could that
be? How could Jason's jacket be here? And while you're on the subject,
how could Jason talk to you in mirrors? Answer me that one, hotshot.

A glint of light caught the corner of Rob's eye and he looked up, the
jacket dangling from one hand. A small patch of darkness beside him was
filled with crackling sparks of electricity, and it was getting bigger.
Taking a step sideways into what he hoped was safety, Rob found the wall
he'd been looking for and leaned against it, his eyes absorbed in the
glitter of light in front of him, spreading outwards into an oval shape,
the surface bubbling as if something was pressing outward from the other
side. The flickering whiteness made him flinch and turn into the wall,
pressing his face into his hand, his slashed forearm squashed against
the cool plaster. Sounds were coming from the light now, voices,
indistinct but recognizable, a man and a child chattering to each other
excitedly. Jason and Tabby. Jason and Tabby were coming through the light.

Turning his face back to see, hope rising in his stomach, Rob tried to
pull his arm away from the wall, and yelped as it was tugged back. In
front of his eyes, the figures were taking shape, bright and light and
beautiful; Tabby whole and undamaged, Jason glowing and sparkling with
Teacher beside him, their bodies fuzzy at the edges, as if they weren't
really there at all, but--Oh God what was

327

happening to his arm, and why couldn't he get it off the fucking wall,
and why did it feel as if there were mouths sucking at him, what were
they sucking, oh Jesus not my blood, not my BLOOD

?Rob! Tabby!?

Jack's voice stabbed through Rob's panic, and he looked up to see the
outline of Jack stumbling toward them.

?Over here!?he screamed, giving his panic some free rein in his voice.
?Over here!?

?Granddad!?

Looking beside him, Rob saw Tabby, clutching her teddy bear, smiling in
delight as Jack fell to his knees in front of her, pulling her into a
hug, her arms tight around his neck. ?Oh thank God, Oh thank God you're
okay.? Picking the little girl up, he reached for Rob. ?Come on. We'll
get the others and get out of here while we still can.?

Jack ignored the glowing figures of Jason and Teacher as he spoke, and
Rob realized that he couldn't see them. As far as the policeman was
concerned they just weren't there. Tabby could see them, though. Rob
could see her smiling and waving over her grandfather's shoulder.

His arm felt numb and tingly with the pressure of that awful sucking,
but still he tried to tug himself free, knowing deep down that it was
useless. He shook his head at Jack.

?My arm's stuck in the wall! You're going to have to go without me. Get
Tabby and the others out and then send help back!?

Jack stared at him silently, and in that moment Rob was glad for the
gloom. He didn't want to see the hopelessness in the other man's eyes.

?Go! Get out of here!?His anger shone from his voice. ?Get Tabby back to
Kelly! We owe her that!?He paused, and with his free hand squeezed the
old man's arm. His voice was quieter this time. ?I'll be okay. Whatever
happens, I'm okay.?

Jack didn't move for a few seconds and then took a step away. ?Hang on.
I'll send help. Just hang on.?

328

Rob raised a smile that he hoped wasn't wasted in the dark. ?I'm not
going anywhere.?

He waited until Jack and Tabby had disappeared down the distant
staircase before turning to speak to Jason. Tiredness was washing over
him, and he wondered just how much of his blood the house had consumed
by now.

?Help's not going to get here in time, is it??

Jason shook his head.

Rob let out a sigh. ?I didn't think so.? Sadness filled him as he
thought of Kelly outside hating him, unfinished books never written, all
those years that would never be lived. He bit it back, trying to crush
it, almost succeeding, but not quite. Christ, he'd known life was shit,
but he'd never thought he'd end his days back here. Although, on
reflection, maybe there was some kind of mad logic to it after all.
Syracousse had been a shadow over his life; it made sense that it would
have some part to play in his death. Death. It was hard to associate
that word with himself, even now when it was imminent. He wanted to lash
out with frustration, but tiredness was eating at him, winning the
battle against anger.

?So what now??The world seemed to be getting black at the edges, and the
numbness had spread all down his left side.

Jason grinned at him, that old cheeky grin he'd had when they were kids.
?I'm going to wait for you, and then whatever's out there, we'll go
together.?

?You're going to wait for me??Rob's heart squeezed. I won't die alone.
Not alone at all.

?I don't think it'll be long. I can hang on a few minutes longer.?

Tears stung the back of Rob's eyes, his voice slurring as
unconsciousness started to claim him.

?Where are we going, Jase??

He was sure that he felt his friend take his hand as he drifted off.

329

?I don't know, Robster. But Teach'll lead the way. He'll look after us.?

Rob murmured a contented sound, the world slipping away from him. Maybe
everything is going to be okay, after all. Maybe we'll hook up with
Carrie ... an adventure, just like the old days ... maybe. And then he
was gone.

330

Jack ran down the stairs, which were stable this time, ignoring the
agony in his hip and busted ear, the pain and anger in his heart far
outweighing them. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. Rob shouldn't be
trapped and waiting to die upstairs in the dark. It should be him. The
guilt was his. He didn't deserve to be lucky. Oh God, what mess had he
made all those years ago? How many people were going to have to pay for it?

The only thing keeping him going was knowing he had to get the others
out of here to safety. He had a feeling the house wasn't finished with
them yet. As if in agreement with him, Syracousse let out a rumble,
flakes of dust falling from the high ceilings as the foundations shook.

Reaching the hallway, he headed for the lounge door, banging his head on
the frame as he passed through it. Reeling with the agony that ran down
one side of his head, white pain making him deaf, he stood confused for
a moment. He'd never had to duck to come through. Never. Staring at the
doorway, realization dawned on him. The door was shrinking. And it was
shrinking fast.

331

Moving awkwardly, his balance gone with his eardrum, Jack ran toward
Gina, who was frantically trying to grab her mother as she danced by,
her hands deflected inches away from Camilla's body by something unseen.

Tears were pouring down Gina's face, her beautiful pale cheeks now red
and blotchy. ?I can't catch her! It won't let me touch her! It won't let
me touch her!?

Still holding Tabby on one hip, Jack grabbed Gina's arm, spinning her
around to face him. ?Take Tabby and go. I'll try and bring your mother out.?

Gina shook her head wildly. ?No! It won't let her leave! I won't leave
without her. I won't!?

Jack pulled Gina toward the door, the door that was now only up to his
waist, and shoved Tabby into her arms, before taking her shoulders.
?There isn't time! I may not have been a father to you before, but I'm
damn well going to be now.?Beyond the lounge, somewhere farther into the
house, upstairs maybe, the house roared as ceilings collapsed. Gina's
eyes widened with fear as Tabby buried her head into her shoulder.
Instinctively, she covered the little girl's head with one hand and
glanced toward her mother.

?I can't leave her.?Gina wasn't screaming this time, and Jack had to
read her lips to understand.

He nodded. ?Yes, you can. She'd want you to.?From the corner of his eye,
it seemed as if the exit had gotten smaller still. Gina was going to
have to crawl. ?I'll try to get your mother and me out the window.
You've got a niece and little sister to look after. Think about them.
They need you. Now get out!? Briefly kissing them both on the forehead,
not having time for everything he wanted to do and say to try and make
things better--why was there never enough time?--he pushed Gina to her
knees, forcing her through the small space, their hands touching briefly
for the last time as she reached back to pull Tabby through.

?Run!?Jack shouted as the hole closed up in front of him. ?Run!?

332

His energy spent, he rolled himself sideways and leaned against the
wall, tired eyes watching Camilla spinning and turning, dancing and
singing along with her precious house. He wished he could hear her
voice. It might make all this seem a little better. But even the sight
of her made his fear lessen a little. This was how it should be, and now
that it was so close, death didn't really seem like much of a price to
pay, after all.

If he'd been able to hear, maybe he would have had some warning and been
able to move out of the way as the large chunk of plaster fell. The
first he knew about it was when it landed on him, crushing his hips and
legs in front of him. He screamed and screeched, the sound loud and real
in his head, just like the pain, Oh God the pain, as Camilla danced and
danced in front of him, oblivious. Jack's upper torso writhed, desperate
to be free of the crushing weight, to be free of consciousness, his mind
cleared of everything but the exquisite agony that filled him. But he
didn't pass out, his every nerve alive with tortures beyond his
imagination as he screamed and screamed until the small capillaries at
the back of his throat burst with the strain. Oh God, just let me die,
just let me die, please, just let me die. The thought pleaded in vain
inside his skull, but oblivion stubbornly refused to come. Maybe there
was a price to pay after all. Camilla danced past him, her delicate feet
brushing past his useless ones, sending tidal waves of throbbing,
unbelievable pain through his soul, making him scream all over again.

333

Kelly ran one hand through her hair while the other tapped absently on
the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the silent building that rose up a
hundred yards away on the other side of the gate. They'd been gone more
than twenty minutes now, each of those minutes seeming like an eternity,
and she would have called Keery, but her damned mobile couldn't get a
signal. Ten more minutes, that's what she'd give them. Ten minutes, and
then she'd drive and get help.

Unable to sit still any longer, she got out of the car, needing the cool
air to help calm her rising panic, and walked toward the gate. The lane
seemed unnaturally quiet, as if even the birds had deserted her. Just
where the hell were they? She stared at the house and it glowered
silently back at her. Once the others had disappeared inside, her anger
had vanished, and now all she wanted was for them to come back safely.
Tabby, Rob, her dad, and even Gina and Camilla. Nervousness eating at
her stomach, she pushed away a wave of nausea and rubbed her damp palms
on her jeans. Oh God, just let them be okay.

334

Please just let them be okay. She'd never ask for anything for the rest
of her life, but please just grant this one prayer. Please.

Her heart leapt into her mouth, as in the distance she saw a figure
emerge running from the house. Fear forgotten, she grabbed the gate and
started yanking one side open fighting the resistance she felt, ignoring
the squeals of the hinges. Leaning back, using all her weight, Kelly
pulled it open far enough for someone to get through and still straining
and tugging, looked up to see who had come out of Syracousse. It was
Gina who staggered towards her. It was Gina, and she was carrying
someone in her arms. Tabby. She was carrying Tabby.

Oh thank God, Tabby was safe. Tabby was safe. But what were they running
from, and where were Rob and her father? Where was Camilla? Gina was
halfway up the drive now, and Kelly called out to her.

?It's okay, Gina! You're nearly there! Come on!?

Hearing her voice, Tabby looked around, and Kelly's heart leapt. Her
baby. Her baby was back. Everything was going to be fine. Rob and Jack
must be following with Camilla, that's where they were. They'd be out in
a minute. Any minute now.

Gina stumbled through the gap in the gate, and Kelly grabbed Tabby out
of her arms, needing to hold her and hug her forever, burying her face
in that soft, warm tangle of curls, desperate to feel those chubby hands
wrapped around her neck.

?Oh baby, you're safe now. You're safe. Oh, I love you, Tabby. I missed
you so much.?

The little girl pressed her face into Kelly's neck. ?I missed you too,
Mummy. I'm sorry.?

Kelly stood and held her daughter for a few moments, unable to speak or
move, just reveling in the relief, until a sob from beside her made her
look up at Gina, and then the house. Nobody else had come out; there
were no figures running up the drive as she'd expected.

335

Her stomach felt cold as she looked with dread into Gina's anguished face.

?Where are they, Gina? Where's Rob and my father? Where's your mother??

Gina said nothing, but stood weeping and shaking her head.

Beneath them the ground trembled unnaturally, but Kelly ignored it,
pushing Tabby back into Gina's arms. They couldn't leave them in there.
They couldn't. Oh no, not her dad, not Rob. They had to get out somehow.
They just had to.

?I'm going back in to get them! We've got to get them out of there!?

Gina grabbed her and pulled her backwards. ?You don't understand, Kelly!?

Kelly looked at the older woman, this stranger who was her sister, not
wanting to know what was obvious from the pain in her face.

?What don't I understand??

Gina's voice was soft, her breath hitching with tears. ?It's too late.
It's too late for them. We can't help them. They're gone.?

Kelly looked from Gina to the house and back again, her whole body numb.
Gone. They couldn't be. Not her dad. Not Rob. They were here twenty
minutes ago. They couldn't be gone. Just couldn't be.

?No. I don't believe you.?

The grumbling beneath them became louder and the trembling more violent,
as a deep moan seemed to come from the house like the dying wails of a
ship going down in the ocean.

Gina dragged Kelly back behind the car and pulled her in close, so the
three of them were hugging tight, the two women forming a protective
circle around the little girl.

?What's happening??Kelly whispered.

Gina stared sadly at the house. ?I think it's ending.?

The noise was getting louder, and Kelly's ears filled with

336

mounting pressure as the image of the house ahead of them seemed to
shake in a haze. Tabby was crying, softly and fearfully, the wind
whipping up into a sudden frenzy around them. Gina didn't seem to notice
the pressure or the breeze that lashed her hair around her face.

?Yes. I think it's ending now,?she whispered.

A few seconds later, the house imploded.

337

The two women and the little girl were already there and waiting when
Kieran pulled up at the site, even though he was right on time. Waving
hello, he pulled the lorry into the drive. Why two beautiful young women
were setting up home together, he didn't want to know, although the boys
who had done the work pulling down the old farmhouse had come up with
some pretty lurid ideas. Still, if you were that way inclined, then
moving out of Streatford to the tiny hamlet of Nash might give you the
privacy you wanted. Not that either of the women had said that's where
they came from, but Buckinghamshire wasn't that big a place, and he'd
recognized the faces from those newspaper stories a few months back when
that writer died, even if they had changed their names.

Stepping down from the cab, he walked over to them, smiling.

The dark-haired one, who called herself Georgina, shook his hand.

?So are you all ready to start building??

338

Kieran nodded. ?Yep. The foundations are all laid, so today we start on
the bits you can see.?

The women shared a smile and squeezed the hands they were holding of the
little girl between them. The blonde, Karen, let out a small squeal.

?I'm so excited! A new beginning starts today!?

The builder gave them a moment to calm down before speaking.

?The boys are right behind me, so you three better go and get yourselves
somewhere safe, away from the dirt and noise. You can come and see how
we're getting on tomorrow.?

He waited until they'd gotten in their car and driven away before he
pulled back the tarpaulin from the back of the truck. It was silly
really. Not as if they were going to recognize the bricks or anything.
And it wasn't as if he were ripping them off. He'd bought them as a job
lot months ago; they had been too cheap to pass by, and this was the
first job big enough to use them on. There was no way the women could
ever know the bricks came from that house that collapsed, and what did
it matter anyway? Bricks were just bricks. What harm could it do?

339 SARAH PINBOROUGH was born in 1972 and lives in Milton Keynes,
England, with her cats Mr. Fing and Peter. When she is not writing, she
teaches English at Lea Manor High School in Luton, where she is a home
tutor to the rather remarkable 101. They threatened her lovingly with
many unspeakable actions if they didn't get a mention here. This makes
her very proud and they are a constant inspiration for her writing. You
can visit Sarah online at www.sarahpinborough.com.