No Mercy Page 22

  Ellie had to agree. And to tell the truth, as she and Rosie left the house to go in search of Johnny, she felt better already. Anything was better than just waiting. It was too nerve-racking.

  Intent on their purpose, neither Rosie nor Ellie saw the furtive movements behind them. Swiftly, the figure slunk away towards the house. Plucking the key from a pocket, it quickly opened the front door and went stealthily inside, then on into the big room. There, it made straight for the mantelpiece. Long, trembling fingers reached up to grasp the box. Inside lay the rusty old bunch of keys. ‘So! The boy was right.’ The laughter was soft. Insane. Quickly now, the keys were taken, the box replaced. On silent feet, the intruder departed the room. There was nothing else here. Its mission was done. Oh, but wait! Into the kitchen. Always wary, listening for the slightest noise that would betray someone’s approach, the figure remained perfectly still, head cocked towards the main door. Nothing. Safe. There was time enough. Down onto its knees; probing fingers searching beneath the sink. The smell. Awful, deathly smell! Again, the quiet, chilling laughter permeated the air. ‘They don’t know.’ The murmur was pleasant, self-satisfied. ‘Fools!’ Even so. Even so. Beneath the thrusting fingertips, the concrete began to crumble. The stench was thick, suffocating to the senses. Danger. Confusion and panic. Think. Think. The trembling hands rummaged through the sink cupboard, withdrawing the bottle, spreading the liquid like a blanket over the offending ground until the blinding smell of bleach filled the air, disguising the corruption beneath. It was enough. For now. Things were moving swiftly; time running out. And still there were things to do. Dark, satisfying things that could not wait. Grinning with delight, the intruder fled the house; footsteps swift and determined, a black crazy heart bent on destruction.

  One more grisly deed, and then softly to the cottage; with the emaciated bulk cradled gently in strong, loving, loathing arms. The key slid into the ancient lock, the trap door raised. The stench floated up. No matter. Now, it was pleasant. Soothing. All was well. Silently, the footsteps went down, down, down. Into the cloistered bowels of the earth. Reverently, all that was left was laid to rest. Unclean and defiled. Ravaged to the last. One fleeting kiss. Then goodbye. But not forever. Oh no! Not forever. That would be too painful. Too cruel.

  Emerging into the daylight, the figure went on its way, merging into the surroundings with astonishing boldness. It was done. Now there must be no suspicion. Everything must be as it was. Suddenly, it turned, its gaze drawn to the cottage, to the watching face there. Satisfaction. Yes. He was there. Good! Pale, haunted eyes peeped out beneath ragged brows. In the space of the fiercest heartbeat they stared at the figure, now incredulous, now in fear. Suspicion. Disbelief, then realisation. And stark, naked terror. With a gasp of horror, the face withdrew. The figure remained a moment longer, in its tormented heart there was a deeper sense of achievement. Delight. All was well. All was as it should be. But not yet finished. No. Not yet.

  ‘That’s it then!’ Jack Armstrong flung himself into the armchair. ‘We’ve searched high and low… I can’t think where else to look.’ He stared at the ceiling, pushing his long fingers through his hair and sighing noisily. ‘Where the hell is he? What’s his bloody game, eh?’ he demanded, looking at Ellie with hard, bitter eyes.

  Ellie stared back at him, saying nothing, for there was no answer to her father’s question. She felt numb inside. Guilty. It was as though Johnny had disappeared from the face of the earth. Like the others. Just like the others! But then, she had suspected that he had sneaked back when everyone was out searching. At least, neither she nor her father could account for the spill of bleach beneath the sink.

  ‘He can’t just have disappeared.’ Barny swung round from the window, where he had been scanning the area fronting the house, but to no avail. ‘What about friends… from his school?’

  ‘No.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘The constable raised that question, Barny, but… Johnny never made any friends. He was not one for mixing.’ She smiled sadly. It was enough to bring him to her side. ‘Barny… we need to talk,’ she told him, ‘before you go, there are things I need to tell you.’ Her voice fell to a whisper. Afraid to hurt him, she lowered her eyes. There was too much pain in her heart.

  ‘Look… I want to have a word with the constable while he’s still poking about.’ Jack Armstrong clambered to his feet and brushed past Ellie, touching her intimately on the shoulder as he went. He sensed her deep distress, suspecting that she was about to give the young man his marching orders. He was glad. ‘In the outhouse, wasn’t he?… the constable?’

  ‘I reckon so.’ Barny had just seen the uniformed figure making off in that particular direction. He had seen someone else, also – a lone, purposeful figure, standing some way off near the spinney and looking towards the house. He described the same to Jack Armstrong now.

  ‘Sounds like that bastard Harman!’ came the sharp retort. ‘What the hell is he creeping about for?’

  Instinctively, Ellie sprang to Alec’s defence. ‘Perhaps he’s heard that Johnny’s gone missing, and he’s come to help.’

  ‘Be buggered for a tale!’ At once he regretted his temper, adding quickly, ‘Sorry, sweetheart, but you know how I feel about that one… creepy sort if ever I saw one… gives me the shivers!’

  ‘Is he a neighbour?’ Barny was not about to admit it in front of Ellie, but the lurking fellow had given him ‘the shivers’ as well.

  ‘You could say that.’ The other man laughed and glanced sideways at Ellie. ‘Or you could say he was a rival of yours… hankering after our Ellie here.’ One glance at Ellie’s face told him he had gone too far. It was in his mind to apologise, when the front door burst open to admit the constable.

  Looking straight at Ellie’s father, his face stiff and sombre, he said quietly, ‘I think you had better come with me, sir.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jack Armstrong’s face drained white as he stared at the portly, upright figure.

  ‘It’s… your son.’ It was the tone of his voice that told it all. ‘I’m sorry…’ He nodded sadly, standing back and gesturing the other man towards the door. Slowly, Jack Armstrong came forward. The constable looked beyond him to Ellie and Barny. ‘It would be better if you were to stay here… inside,’ he told them.

  Shocked to the core, Ellie remained motionless, all manner of emotions raging through her. In the distance she could hear Barny – strong, reassuring; he was beside her, and yet he seemed a million miles away. The constable’s words echoed like the tick of a clock in her mind. ‘Your son… I’m sorry… I’m sorry.’ She heard the door click shut. It felt like a dam bursting inside her. She darted forward. ‘Johnny!’ She had never been so afraid. Out into the open air she went, running, vaguely conscious of the activity around the bonfire ashes; Constable Rogers, Alec Harman, Rosie… they were all there, the other constable and her father coming into the scene, across the debris of the bonfire. Alec Harman and Rosie were sternly ushered away and kept at a distance. Now, only the portly constable went close enough to examine the spot. He still wasn’t certain. Ellie’s tear-filled eyes searched her father’s face. She saw him peer down, heard him cry out. His anguish tore her in two. Fear pushed up like a huge wave inside her. Afraid to look, yet knowing she must, she lowered her gaze, her vision blurred by the hot stinging tears that spilled down her face. Now, she could see the charred and blackened thing that lay half in, half out of the deep scar in the earth. Her distraught mind saw the remnants of a shoe – a child’s shoe, distorted, pathetic. Horrified, she wanted to look away, but could not. Further down, part of it covered in earth, were the unmistakable head and shoulders of a carcass. Instinctively, Ellie knew beyond a shadow of doubt. It was Johnny! Terror welled up in her, his name falling from her lips even as her senses slipped away and the blackness enfolded her. Then, mercifully, she knew no more.

  If Ellie had only seen the nightmare still to come, she might have prayed never to open her eyes again.

  Part 3

 
If Only…

  9

  It was January. The day was bright and crisp, with little evidence of the recent snowfalls. Above, the sky was a wide, slumbering blanket of puffy, chalk-white clouds, nudging and snuggling together and plumping themselves out, until it seemed as though they might begin dropping to the ground one by one. Two red-chested robins sang to each other, and nearby a hare sat bolt-upright, its ears alert and its glittering eyes darting at every tiny sound. Entranced, Ellie paused a while on her journey across the field.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Alec Harman appeared as if from nowhere, straddling the pathway and looking at Ellie, his voice warm and smiling, his whole countenance betraying his pleasure at seeing her. ‘Out here, everything is so natural, so very peaceful, don’t you think?’ Ellie had been quietly surprised when he had suddenly appeared like that, but she quickly recovered her composure.

  ‘It is lovely,’ she agreed, a pleasing flush of delight creeping into her heart. ‘All the… sad, unhappy things do seem a million miles away from here.’ She glanced at the bunch of white chrysanthemums in her hand, and, suddenly, it all came flooding back. But then, it was never far away. How could it be?

  ‘The flowers?’ Alec’s dark gaze fell to the blooms. ‘You’re going to the churchyard?’ There was sadness in his voice. There was guilt, also.

  Ellie nodded, and began walking on. A short distance away, over the hedges, the tall gothic church spire soared upwards like an accusing finger pointing to heaven.

  ‘Do you mind if I walk with you?’ He took up a place alongside her; soft, sure footsteps, clinging, like a shadow.

  ‘No.’ As always, when he was near, Ellie was uncertain, a little afraid. Somehow she never felt safe in his company. What she felt was nervous and threatened. What she felt was his brooding presence, like dark, simmering secrets. What she felt was a deep, stirring passion that took hold of her, creating turmoil in her heart and suffocating every vestige of reason within her. What she felt above all else was fear. Fear of him, fear of herself, and fear that he might beckon and she could not find the strength to resist. Everything decent in her, everything she had learned over the years, and all of her instincts warned Ellie against this man; this strange, haunting man whose black eyes bewitched and disturbed her. She must not let herself be persuaded by him, nor must she forget that he had lied about the girl by the lake. If he lied about that, he would lie about anything. She must be on her guard against him, against that devastating charm and that slow, easy smile that lit up her world. ‘Be careful, Ellie,’ she told herself, ‘or be lost forever.’

  During the next five minutes or so, while she and Alec trod the same path, Ellie deliberately kept her distance, although she was acutely aware of his closeness. She spoke few words, and when she was obliged to converse, it was with an aloofness that belied the confusion in her heart. They talked of the countryside, of the weather, about the remarkable Rosie and the pathetic hermit George had become. They discussed Thornton Place and the fact that only the other day a representative had come from the solicitors, afterwards leaving more than satisfied with the progress being made on the house. They talked about the withdrawal of Britain and France from the Suez, and lamented the demise of Humphrey Bogart. All Ellie’s personal, secret questions remained locked away, secure, unexposed, simmering beneath the surface of her cool, friendly exterior. More than once, when their glances mingled, Ellie sensed the deep dangerous current of emotion that ran between her and this man.

  ‘I’ll leave you here, then.’ At the entrance to the churchyard he smiled on her, his dark eyes seeming to plead. When she merely nodded, he lingered a moment longer, his gaze intense and searching. Feeling herself responding to him, Ellie quickly turned away. When the sound of his boots, stamping the earth, died away in the distance, she slowed her own pace to risk a glance over her shoulder. At once, she bitterly regretted having done so, because there, some way ahead of Alec Harman’s tall, striding figure, there was another. It was a girl. The same girl Ellie had seen down by the lake. Muffled against the cold, and looking attractive in a long, fur-collared coat, she waited for Alec Harman, smiling radiantly as he approached. In a swift action that took Ellie by surprise, he jerked his head round to glance in her direction. Quickly, she looked away and stumbled on, pretending not to have noticed. A few seconds later, burning with curiosity and partly hidden by the old cedar tree, Ellie looked again. What she saw intrigued her even more. The girl had run to meet Alec Harman. Far from being pleased with her obvious pleasure on seeing him, he seemed angry, nervous that they might be seen. When she raised her face, her lips puckered in a kiss, he grabbed her by the arm and shook her angrily. The girl snatched herself away, the tenderness in her face replaced by indignation. She said something to him, and he at once began striding away. The girl followed. An argument erupted. Exasperated, he raised his hand; Ellie instinctively drew back with a gasp, certain that he was about to strike the girl. Instead, though, he rested his hands on her shoulders and smiled down on her, shaking his head and murmuring. Then he bent to kiss her forehead. She laughed and snuggled into his arm, then the two of them went on their way, adoring in each other’s company.

  Sadly, Ellie resumed her path. And not for the first time since she had sent him away, Ellie’s tortured thoughts turned to Barny. Even though she had severed all ties with him, she still could not help but wonder whether she had done the right thing. She knew in her heart that there could be no future for either of them together. Yet, she also knew that she would always love him, just a little. In her mind’s eye she recalled the terrible trauma of that day in November. ‘Dear God, was it really more than two months ago?’ she asked herself. The shock of it all had never left her. It was as real to her now as it had been on that day. Every moment, every sight, sound and word was magnified in her mind; the constable’s face when he came for her father, the shock of realisation, and the awful implications when she saw the look on her father’s face as he stared down into the ashes, the gasp of horror, the cry that sounded like a muted scream. Rosie and Alec Harman, staring, unbelieving. Her own searing sense of horror, and the unbearable pain, the grief that she carried still; then the dark, silent abyss opening before her, sucking her down, down.

  Falling to her knees before the mound of earth that signified her brother’s grave, Ellie closed her eyes, unaware of the tears that oozed from beneath her eyelids to spill down her face. ‘Johnny… just a boy.’ All the heartbreak was in her voice, quiet agony for his passing; for the awful manner of it. Thoughts of her mother throbbed through her. Memories that brought their own pain and echoed the horror of her brother’s death. Regret tore at her heart. The questions were there, always there. But no answers. No, never the answers.

  After a while, Ellie went into the church to pray, and to kneel before the altar. She yearned for peace. There was none. There were no answers here, either. Disillusioned, she returned once more to her brother, to tell him that, in spite of everything, she had loved him, and loved him still. She wanted him to know that his father would come soon, one day when the pain had subsided, when he was stronger of heart and ready to forgive. But then, there was the awful guilt. That, more than anything else, was the hardest thing of all. She wanted Johnny to know these things, to understand.

  As Ellie drew closer, she was at once aware that someone else had been here. In these last few moments while she was in the church, a visitor to the grave had placed a sprig of dried flowers at its head. Lavender. The scent was everywhere – oil of lavender, sprinkled, still glistening wet in the clear, cold light of day. Quickly, Ellie glanced about. In every direction there was only silence and solitude. No sign of any living soul; only the souls beneath the ground, long ago quiet and peaceful, beyond all earthly pain and fear. Unbeknown to Ellie, there was one, though. One tortured and forlorn being, whose soul was neither dead nor alive, neither quiet nor peaceful. It was driven by revenge, haunted by sadness, and tormented almost beyond endurance by its lonely vigil. Its mission
was to exact a terrible punishment. To watch. To plan. To wait patiently, as it had done over many, long, haunted years. There was no hurry. Everything would come right, in time. All of those who belonged must pay the price. One by one. One by one! Sad, mad eyes peered out from the hiding place. In its black, unhappy heart, the sight of Ellie was like a spear of pain. Yet the watching soul dared not cry out. Not now. Not then. Not ever!

  Strangely disturbed, and touched by the creeping sensation that, even now, someone was quietly observing her, Ellie stood a moment longer, her anxious eyes gazing all about. Only silence. Not even a bird sang. Curious, Ellie glanced down, searching for a sign that might betray the visitor; footsteps, maybe? She was disappointed.

  The snowfall was long gone, so now the ground was hard underfoot, rugged and narrow walk-ways between the rows of graves, interspersed here and there with wild growing tufts of grass and protruding weeds. The churchyard was not always best kept. It was a matter for regret.

  Coming into sight of Thornton Place, Ellie’s quiet mood was lifted by the approach of that familiar, welcoming figure, Rosie. Rosie, always there, always ready to listen, a warm and cheery being who had helped Ellie through her darkest days. Enlightened of heart, she quickened her steps towards the other woman, who stood waiting, a strange yet lovable sight, with her ungainly figure leaning crookedly into the crutches and her peroxide hair hanging in scruffy tangles about her ears. Even from a distance, the two large round smudges that were her eyes were easily distinguishable. Now, as Ellie drew closer, she could hear the plaintive song that Rosie was softly singing. It was a sad, haunting melody that she had never heard before. Intrigued, Ellie had it in mind to question the old woman about the song, but then Rosie looked up and began calling as Ellie came nearer. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded, her voice sailing through the air. ‘I’ve finished my duties long since… thought you might be back to sup a drop o’ tea with me… have a natter and such like.’ Ellie was before her now. ‘You know how I enjoy having a chat with you, Ellie,’ she moaned. ‘There ain’t nobody else I can talk to, is there, eh?’