Desire Line, page 7
‘Perhaps I should.’ You’re the girl! You’re the girl/ behind the blinds. Such a facile-seeming song at first… You’re the girl! You’re the girl/ all out of dimes—
Meg swallowed. ‘That meal’s getting cold,’ she said. And then Josh was back.
She was running, past the chalets, then the drawn up caravans, past the shacks around the harbour and onto a road before she allowed herself time to think.
Completely dark now, what illumination there was came from the moon above speeding high cloud, disorientating to focus on for more than a moment. But at her level the breeze was just sufficient to make boats at their moorings restless as chained beasts. Surprisingly she found a trio of names came to her, though obscured: Olivia Jeanne, Merlin and of course, the Sarah II, all previously noticed. Presumably. Extraordinary the snippets the mind remembered and those it chose to forget… A distant blaze of neon denoted Rhyl proper with just a single car coming almost silently away from it. The footsteps suddenly behind her were much more significant. She didn’t turn but speeded up. Even so the man’s breathing became audible and then— ‘Sara!’ Josh’s voice, of course. ‘Sara for God’s sake wait!’
She stopped.
‘Who d’you think it was?’ he demanded.
‘I don’t know,’ she lied. ‘Not you obviously. You and your friend seemed settled for the night.’ She had stolen away on a pretend lavatory trip. ‘Do go back.’
For answer he grasped her arm with a familiar nuance of action, that sliding of his palm over the elbow joint and reaching down and round to clamp onto the inner wrist. His intention was clear: to hustle her in the direction of his house. But first he must phone her. ‘Megs, it’s Josh. Yeah. Sara’s not feeling too good. I’m taking her— Yeah. I will. I’ll do that. Bye.’ (Who is this stagecraft for? she wanted to ask. But speaking to the absent Meg seemed to calm him. Perhaps she was answered.) ‘It’s my fault, this. Let’s get home. I’ll tell you a few things about today.’
‘No.’
‘Oh, for fucksake!’
‘I mean I don’t want to go back to that place. That horrible house,’ she added for good measure.
‘Right! Come on then.’ He swivelled them and halted though they had almost attained Avonside’s entrance. They were opposite the first houses but stalled next to a wooden fence, its purpose apparently to keep back assorted weeds and a bit of Rhyl street art, stark black shapes unrecognisable in the poor illumination; in daylight they were a rotten rowing boat and a pair of oversized rusty metal spheres.
‘I meant to ask you,’ she said, ‘why are these here? What are they exactly? Simply dumped… or emblematic in some way?’
He glanced at them as though installed in his absence. ‘Fine!’ he said and marched her at the bridge, which now had a stream of cars crossing and none of them with drivers who gave a woman being dragged along by a much larger man a second glance. ‘Marine Lake! That’d be nice wouldn’t it?’
Sara found herself hurried over a waste area where she had turned the car, that first day in Rhyl. The only way to combat Josh’s momentum would be to let herself sink to the ground. Undignified, it might also make him… too late! A shaggy hedge loomed up and they were through a gap: immediately the turf fell sharply away and she would have plunged headlong over an invisible impediment if not for his grip.
‘What was that?’
‘Train track.’
‘We’re on the tracks?’
‘Miniature railway. Not in operation now.’
His feet knew the lie of the land. Ahead lay the lake, completely still and burnished pewter, very different from its normal face, nearly lovely in fact as the gloom transformed it into a natural feature. A golden beam leapt across the water from the far bank and was extinguished as quickly: a cry came from the same spot, harsh as a crow’s. The hair on the back of her neck actually stood up. This was an abandoned place. The ‘lake’ she needed no reminding was a twenty-acre concrete construct, with an island bordered by kerbstones. She’d walked past it at noon… observed no one along its perimeter, bar a grotesque red-billed goose which seemed to prefer dry land, while the only floating objects were polystyrene cups. Now Josh almost towed her onto her face, so eager was he to get down to the edge and its well-trodden path. ‘No!’ she said. ‘No. A man in a shop, yesterday… was talking…’ her breath came painfully dry. ‘He said to keep away. Especially at night.’
She may as well not have spoken. ‘Here we are,’ he said. Down by the water now: another brief flaring of light, directly opposite and in the direction Josh proposed, was like a warning.
‘Stop it. I don’t want to walk here. We could be attacked!’
‘Oh Sara! D’you think so?’
They stumbled on. Her open sandals had soles thin enough to feel every sharp pebble of the path as though she had come here barefoot. ‘How far is it around?’
‘Far enough.’
It seemed they were to do the march in silence, all the time his pressure on her arm increasing. But as the lake shore curved away from the river they arrived at the trio of metal seats he had obviously been making for. Josh sat, changing his hold, turning it into an arm around her shoulder as though they were a courting couple, keeping her squeezed up against his furious heat and aware of his rapid respiration and the stored energy in his rigid frame. The gulls were still active… did they never rest? Dozens of them wheeling around the roof of some construct on the far side of the road where there should still be carousels and candyfloss sellers. ‘Eurwen loved the funfair,’ she said. The building blurred against sky dull as a blanket. ‘You brought her here for your mother’s birthday. She talked about the ride on the little train. How old would she have been?’
‘Seventy. It was the year before she died.’
She felt the change in him.
‘Eurwen! Nine… no, ten. Eleven?’
‘You couldn’t have expected me to come.’ She tried to squirm around but he wouldn’t allow it, nor could she free the trapped arm. ‘We were barely speaking. Can you imagine the four of us squeezed into Nora’s house for a whole weekend? Don’t make it my fault. You didn’t want me to come.’
‘No,’ he said and pulled away and leaned forward, his head in his hands, giving her to understand she could get up and leave now and wouldn’t be prevented.
But she didn’t. ‘These girls Meg Upton mentioned, you’ve checked on them?’
‘Don’t take anything from Megs calling them the girls. One’s nearly thirty— she lives with a Neil Rix. He’s older again. An ugly mug. And yes, of course I’ve bloody checked them out. First thing I did. He’s gotta record.’
‘For?’
‘Relax. Criminal damage. Long time, now, student days. He smashed Boots the chemist’s window. That’s it. A protest. He got the conviction because he wouldn’t accept a caution would be my guess. He’s not had a mention since.’
‘And what was this protest against?’
‘Animals. You know, experimenting on animals.’
‘Eurwen. Yes.’ She experienced an overwhelming hatred for these strangers Josh described. They had formed part of Eurwen’s world, might be with her at this moment and as if on cue, a siren sprang to life, on a mission to some typical Rhyl scenario. The official keening grew before being abruptly cut off. That they both connected the sound with their lost child was left unshared, a crime in itself, a father and mother split and Eurwen falling through the crack. So we ache and sit here, specimens of Homo dolens squirming under our separate glass domes. After five minutes or so she whispered, ‘Josh. There’s someone in the bushes.’
‘What?’
That flash of light and the rasping half-word… it had been a human voice. Of course there were other people here. Hadn’t she been warned? She pressed her face close to his. If they were being observed it could pass for a kiss. ‘Someone’s in there.’
Everything next came in double-time. He said nothing but as he jumped up she was almost sure a snatch of speech issued from a black mound of shrub that buttressed the hedge. Josh reached it and without a pause kicked out. His target must have been a couple of feet off the ground. There was a grunt… and then the branches seemed to explode in Josh’s direction and her ability to distinguish his form against the background was gone. Nothing made sense to either vision or hearing; another noise that may have been Josh’s had no words contained until an alien much louder voice shouted, ‘Fucker!’
Even shapes were obscure: it could have been a man (Josh) caught in a tangle of living branches and trying to get loose. But the branches also possessed vocal cords and lungs and muttered, ‘Right! Right you… fucker— you… right!’ The combined creature, half-Josh, half something else lurched first toward the water’s edge and then back from it like one single, huge inebriate.
Incomprehension left her static. What ought she do? Abandoning Josh was not an option and she did want to help, to protect him, she realised… but before anything practical came to mind, a second huge chunk of shade rushed out and launched itself at Josh’s back. It had her screaming, ‘Josh… another one!’ This extra being hesitated between them. For an instant the very air seemed to crackle and then Josh threw the thing he was wrestling with at it and after the impact, he came on instantly, kicking the nearest figure with a connection Sara heard as the sound of a clean-bowling on the University’s Iffley Road ground. Very satisfying. Both fell. There was a howl, a string of obscenities… and the two figures on the floor separated. While one clambered to its feet the other stayed down, rolling and groaning. Now it seemed a real possibility that Josh might attack the standing man again, or be attacked himself. Was she in danger? The blood rushing through her ears and agony in the throat said so. She had never been so close to violence… and yet her fear was already lessening, changing… too quickly, she rationalised later. But then and there it was being overlaid by elation: because Josh will win! This told in the finishing-up, pushing off movement of his upper limbs and his barely-articulated dry uh! captive within the chest but pleasing for the maker. In any case he stepped away from both attackers and toward her. For an instant he actually seemed about to present them his back. She dodged to keep their whereabouts known, to maintain a line of sight for herself.
To the upright body Josh said, ‘Run. Now!’
There was a moment’s pause before it started off at a lopsided trot. From the other prostrate thing was only a low grumbling: ‘You’ll live,’ Josh said. ‘If you can walk, it’s your lucky night. If not—’
The dropped sack heaved itself onto legs and followed the first into the shadows, while Josh stood with fists clenched, breathing hard. The Jacobean dumbshow had concluded.
‘My God Josh!’
Several thumps of her heart passed before he muttered, ‘I know that pair,’ sotto voce. He came over and lowered himself onto the bench. ‘The father’s not even my age. He was the one I didn’t kick, right? The son’s an even more evil little… bastard or will be.’
So very quick… and it was to be wound up, now, just like that? Only Josh’s murderous aura confirmed anything had happened at all. Her head swam as, instinctively, she must have stepped up her respiration rate to match his. ‘You know them? Who are they?’
Legs out in front of him, feet in heavy boots, he stared at the water. ‘They were the Murcotts, father and son. Ike has been a professional nuisance since he got here. Manchester connections but real low rent. These two, they’re the end of the line stuck out in Taffyland as they call it, which says it all. With Ryan it’s knives and drugs mostly. Just pills.’ A massive sigh. ‘Too fucking dense to deal in anything you have to measure out and weigh, we reckon.’
‘He may have had a knife.’
‘Why d’you think I got that first kick in? If it’s any good it tends to make you drop—’
‘We could have walked away.’
‘Yeah. We’d be sitting at home now, wouldn’t we, if it wasn’t for me?’
From the eastern edge of the lake an engine noise started, inadequately suppressed, powerful. Josh didn’t move. ‘Don’t worry. That’ll be the Murcotts found where they left their bike. Took ’em long enough.’
‘A motorbike? They could come back this way.’
‘They won’t.’
The exultant surge of spirits at his victory seeped out of her as quickly as it had arrived. She was trembling, her knees refusing to lock. ‘Please can we go?’
He shrugged and strolled off in the direction of the bridge leaving her to totter after.
These numerous crossings and recrossings were beyond dismal, as was the thought that she would be doing it again tomorrow. Laughter and shouts, a dressing of hot grease to the air, and a diffuse hostility all seemed to combine and come drifting along from West Parade. Josh said, ‘If you want to know about the Murcotts, how’s this? Two old dears last summer, one of them has a little win on the bingo and they’re making their way home into Wood Road,’ he gestured over her head, ‘—made the mistake of stopping by the lake. She’s knocked flat. He’s chopped in the kidneys that hard one nearly ruptures. Everything they have on them’s taken. His winnings. Her wedding ring! Wasn’t worth buttons. They even took her bar of chocolate.’
‘So were they found guilty?’
He laughed. ‘Found guilty? Um— no.’
‘But it was them?’
‘Only they’re stupid enough to take that ring. Probably ended up chucking it. So most likely them.’
‘Only most likely?’
‘What do you want me say, Sara? Yes? No? The prosecution’s got no further evidence to offer in this case, M’lady.’
Eight hours later a sombre Josh drove away without reference to after dark alarums and excursions.
Her apology could not be put off. In the absence of writing paper, two sheets carefully cut from a notebook, a message in themselves, would suffice.
Thursday
Dear Daddy and Fleur
I’m very sorry if, last night, I seemed to be making little sense and, also, that I upset, you, Fleur. Of course I had no idea that you had rung several times already and left messages. I must have convinced myself the call would be some terrible news about Eurwen. That’s why I grabbed the phone from Josh before he could explain. We had just that moment entered the house, having been for a walk and this being an alien place, please put it down to my feeling out of my element. Mea culpa. But I’d be dishonest if I do not say that every call is a disappointment because it isn’t Eurwen, isn’t her voice telling me she is coming home. You and Fleur have only ever loved me so I’ll have to fall back on hoping you understand and aren’t too hurt.
Thank you for trying with the Fortun sisters. As I explained, we’ve had no word. Josh is convinced she is with other people, probably people she’s met whilst here. On occasions there have been phone calls from both a female and a male and Eurwen has been evasive about who these people were. The fact that they were one of each gender seems reassuring although I have no idea why. Josh has promised that he will take me to meet all her contacts that he now knows about. A woman called Megan is one I met within the last twenty-four hours. (Megan Upton is from the stables Eurwen has been haunting. Eurwen sent Fleur a picture postcard of it last month?) A couple who are deeply immersed in animal rights (yes, I know, I see your expression!) have become friendly with her and she may have been drawn in. I’m sure with Josh’s resources they can be found. This couple are not teenagers. Maybe they’re sensible and can talk her into contacting her parents. I hope none of this is wishful thinking on my part. However Josh and I both agree it could be worse.
Another thank you for sorting out home and Mrs Ali. The Peppers next door are very reliable and Hugo works from home remember so there will be someone about during the day. I’m sorry for confusion over the alarm. I must have done something to it as I was leaving. Poor Mrs Ali!
On the subject of clothes, Fleur, I didn’t ‘take nothing’. I will try to keep my phone charged in future and of course I’ll pass on any developments. Really Daddy, sometimes… I can’t know for how long, can I?
With my love to you both,
Sara
PS On the subject of that card, do you still have it? Could you put it into an envelope and send it here? I’m not exactly sure why but Josh thinks maybe something of use in it. Thank you, again.
And I was burning papers, Fleur. That’s all. If Mrs Ali did what she was paid for they should have been cleared away.
Sheer exhaustion after the lake-side fracas had been responsible for what happened the moment she entered the hall and saw Josh pick up the phone. Eurwen! Not Eurwen! News of any denomination? Her parents at the other end became targets. Attempting to phrase an apology now, her face flushed… or was it all Mrs Ali’s fault? Mrs Ali and the remains of that fire left cold and finished and yet still somehow incomplete, spewing from the study grate for Fleur to find.
Chapter 7
Forward Rhyl started life as a single open-plan room at the top of a turn-of-the-century building— with the promise of a move. By Wave Day it hadn’t happened. Street level was unrecognisable on the Monday morning following, but our lookout was reached as usual by a sectional staircase bolted to the rear elevation. Because nobody said not to, we assembled at the bottom to make the climb. Our every recent improvement to Rhylites’ quality of life lay under cubic metres of trash so the atmosphere wasn’t buoyant. Glenn clutched his waterproof to his body to stop it becoming a sail. Omar, only with us a month, a tall good- looking Iranian who opted to be called Persian was already planning his escape, I decided. His normal five o’clock shadow look was a disguise in the making. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Flintshire Foods vehicle buried to its cab in the side wall of the White Rose Shopping Centre on the opposite corner. A few courses of brick were intact above the hole, like an advertising stunt or something made for a film. Everything was unreal if you stopped to consider— but this was up close. And what had happened to the driver? Then someone somewhere decided to start a chain-saw up in the next street. Not reassuring. The noise gave us an extra buzz, an excuse to jump.
