Kaleidoscope (11 page)
Langton laughed and pointed to the sofa. Michelle walked over and sat down towards the far end, next to the small table where the telephone was sitting. He watched her carefully as she moved across and sat down. He walked over and pulled the telephone closer.
"You know his number?" Langton asked, moving in closer to the girl.
"Y...yes," Michelle said, frowning again as he leaned over her.
"Don't be nervous Michelle."
As Langton lay in his bed with his eyes closed and thought about that terrible day, he tried to convince himself that he couldn't remember what happened next. But the truth was he could remember it all too well.
There had been glancing contact with the skin on her leg, perfectly innocent, Langton had told himself - a slight brush with the back of his hand - nothing untoward. But the expression on Michelle's face had told him that she thought it had been anything but innocent. She had looked shocked and had stood up, moving away from him. She had said something, but he could only remember one word - 'inappropriate'. He remembered the word well because he hadn't expected a thirteen-year-old to say such a thing. It was a word that had forced old memories to rise inside; regurgitated from a mind that had desperately tried to forget them.
They were memories of his time at the school back in Surrington, when he had been called in for a meeting with the headmaster. The headmaster had said the same word when he told Langton that he was being dismissed. He had said that his behaviour with the students was
inappropriate
and he had no choice. He had said that such behaviour was very embarrassing for the school so he wouldn't put anything specific in the report. That time Langton had got away with it, but as he had looked at Michelle staring back at him with her eyes wide and mouth open, he had realised that this time he wouldn't be so lucky. He had got up and stepped closer to her, she had screamed so he put his hand over her mouth and squeezed tightly. He now told himself that she hadn
’
t given him any other choice; he was only trying to keep her quiet until she
But how could he have explained? He had to keep her silent... he had to stop her from telling her parents. But he had only touched her leg hadn't he? Perhaps there had been more to it than that he conceded, but buried the thoughts, desperately trying to excuse what he had done.
Langton sat up in his bed again. Sleep wouldn't visit him again tonight. He tried to stop his mind going over that day again and again. It was as if his own brain was torturing him for what he had done to that girl; victimising him for what was, after all, an accident.
Was it an accident?
Langton had convinced himself over the years that he was no murderer, he didn't want Michelle to die, but she just wouldn't stop screaming, she wouldn't... she just wouldn't stop. But he had
made
her stop.
After he realised that Michelle Layne was dead, Langton had panicked. He had paced the room, mumbling to himself about how he hadn't meant for it to happen - how he was a good man and that it was her own fault for knocking on his door.
He had glanced out of the window, up and down the street. Had anyone seen her come in? He wasn't sure, but suspected not. It was a quiet street and everyone else would have been at work. He thought about how he should handle the situation. He felt guilt flood his veins and contemplated calling the police to hand himself in. But George Langton, the man he knew only too well, was a coward and realised that confessing to such an act was something he would not be capable of. He had decided it was necessary to get rid of her.
As he fought the memories of that day from his mind, he flicked on the light switch next to his bed again and looked at the clock:
. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He got up, went into the lounge and turned on the TV. He put on a news channel and let the reporter's words flow through him, as he absorbed nothing.
Langton had buried the body in his own garden, and in broad daylight. His garden was protected by large, thick trees and bushes and there were very few houses capable of seeing in. The single house that was visible was at the back and Langton was sure that even if there was a person staring out, they would only be able to see part of the lawn. He could avoid anyone seeing from that house by moving carefully around the perimeter, using the bushes for cover.
He had considered the potentially idiotic act of burying a body in his own garden, but stared up to the far end. He and his wife had already paid for the large area of slabs which would replace the grassy hill at the top of their garden. It was going to be the base for a large shed and the men had been booked to lay the patio the following week.
Langton had carried Michelle, carefully edging around the side of the garden and laid her tiny body underneath a bush while he went to fetch a spade. He had dug deep in the soil beside the bush, which was going to be ripped up before the patio was laid. He had made the hole as deep as he could manage, until he was certain that he had gone far enough down. He had placed her in the hole, never looking directly at her pale skin and, with sweat pouring from his brow, filled it as quickly as he could.
The disappearance of Michelle Layne had been a huge story, making it into the headlines nationwide. A large-scale search had been undertaken by the local police force, with hundreds of volunteers helping in the surrounding areas. George Langton had even been one of the volunteers, along with his wife and the rest of the residents on their street. The police had interviewed him, just as they had everyone else who lived close by. If Langton's previous history at the school in Surrington had been known, then he would have been at the top of the list of suspects, after all he lived next door to the missing girl. But the real reason for his dismissal had never been put in any official reports and his indiscretions had never been reported to the police; they had no reason to suspect the concerned man next door who was volunteering his own time to help find the missing girl.
Langton had rested more easily after the patio had been laid, and relaxed even more as the weeks slowly passed by. Langton's new shed was erected on a Saturday morning, while six-feet below, under slabs and cement, Michelle Layne rested, never to be found.
As the years passed by, the knowledge that the dead girl was buried in his garden had eaten into Langton. Both he and his wife eventually moved back to Surrington and he found employment in a new business, H.K. Communications, owned by a man called Joseph Hellam. A couple of years after that, Langton
’
s wife found out about an affair he was having and had left him.
George Langton sat upright in his lounge and turned off the TV, using the remote control. He placed his face in his hands and rubbed the skin with his fingers, digging his nails in hard. He knew the face of Michelle Layne would never leave him now; he would be forever haunted by her glazed, dead eyes. But he knew he deserved worse than that, much worse. He got up and went back to the bedroom, where he was certain he would lie awake until his alarm buzzed at
.
***
Sarah Price pulled a sweater over her head as the door to her flat was closed. She got up from her bed, taking the money from the bedside table, and walked over to a set of drawers. She plucked a cigarette from a packet that was resting on top and lit it. She ran a hand through her tangled, brown hair as she took a long drag of tobacco and glanced in the mirror - something she hated to do. As the white smoke circled her head, she looked at the blotchy, gaunt face staring back at her. She scrutinised a red spot on her forehead and rubbed a finger over it then used a pad to rub some more foundation on her face in an attempt to conceal the blemish.
The room began to fill with smoke so she went over to the window, opened it wide and stood there, blowing white mist into the breeze. Some clients didn't like the smell of smoke and her next one would be arriving in half-an-hour. He was new and the new ones always made her nervous; she never knew what to expect. Sometimes they would be polite and gentle, occasionally nervous themselves. Other times they treated her like a piece of dirt which they had scraped from underneath their fingernails.
Sarah finished the cigarette and stubbed it out on the windowsill then walked over to the drawers again. She opened the second drawer and slid some clothes sideways, revealing a small steel moneybox. She carefully lifted it out as if it were a delicate flower and rested it silently on the wooden surface. She couldn't stop the smile from making an appearance on her face as she opened it and saw the modest bundle of cash. She placed her latest fee on top, admired it for a moment and then placed it back in the drawer, careful to conceal it underneath her clothes. She knew that anyone interested in robbing her of the money wouldn't have a tough time finding it, but she had been in the business for too long to be worried. She could read people well and was confident at assessing them before inviting them in. Anyone who, in her opinion, didn't look right wouldn't make it through the door.
She was making good money and could afford to turn away the occasional John who seemed a little too odd; at least that had been true for the past few years. Lately however, she had found herself taking silly risks, going against her better judgement just to get the cash. She had a plan and the cash was a vital part of the preparation. She went back to her bed and lay down, resting her eyes as she thought quietly to herself.
Sarah was 34-years-old and had been working the job for almost three years - a long time to be doing what she did, and she knew she wouldn't be able to last much longer. She hated her life at the moment and the only thing that kept her trying to survive to the next day was the knowledge that soon she would be back with her daughter. Cassie had been taken away from her over a year ago by Sarah's own mother after she found out about the circumstances in which her daughter had been living. Truth be told, Sarah didn't fight too hard to keep Cassie; she loved her daughter but knew that her life would be doomed if she remained with her.
Sarah had never been forced to start taking the drugs, much as she tried to convince herself that was the case, but an old boyfriend had first introduced her to the lifestyle. She followed the well worn path that so many in her situation walked. She started smoking marijuana after going out at weekends then, as the months progressed, her boyfriend slowly introduced the harder drugs. Taking pills to make the nights out more fun had been okay, but each step had led her all too easily to the next one. It had been Heroin that had dealt the knockout blow. She had tried it a few times with her friends, but after her boyfriend left her, she found herself relying on it far too much.
She used alone, knocking herself into the melancholy haze it expertly induced while she was by herself in the flat. After she made a stupid mistake one night by having a one night stand, she found out that she was pregnant. She lost her job in a supermarket and resented turning to her family for support. She couldn't bare the self congratulatory looks they would give her as they dished out the desperate variations of the usual line, 'We told you so'.
Money had been tight, but she survived for a while on the benefit payments she received. She had reduced her Heroin intake during her pregnancy, helped in part by the fact that she simply couldn't afford it, and Cassie had been born healthy. But money had been tighter than ever and the cravings didn't seem to wane. Money was so tight it had eventually reached the point where Sarah felt she simply had no choice but to take the final step.
The first time still gave her nightmares. The client had paid up, but Cassie had been screaming from the next room for the whole time. After they were finished and she had shown the customer out of the flat, Sarah began crying too as she comforted her young daughter.
And so the cycle had begun.
Sarah found that she could once again afford the drugs and her life descended into a macabre spiral of self destruction. She tried to do the best for her daughter but didn't fool herself - she wasn't just ruining her own life, she was also tearing apart her daughter's. When Sarah's mother had shown up by surprise one day and discovered what was happening, she didn't hesitate in taking her granddaughter into her own care. Even in her semi drugged-up state, Sarah couldn't bear what was happening, but at the same time welcomed the fact that her daughter would be escaping the car crash her life had become.
That had been fourteen months ago and as Sarah lay on her bed, she glanced down at the healing track marks on her arm and thought about where her life was now. She had called her mother six-months ago and had been allowed to speak to Cassie on the phone. She told her how much she missed her and couldn't wait to see her again. But Sarah's mother made it clear that that wouldn't happen unless she cleaned herself up and got off the drugs.
That had been the incentive that Sarah found she needed. It was difficult, sometimes reaching points where she felt so unbearably low that she had considered ending it all. There had been multiple scenarios running through her mind; how would each method of suicide feel and was there truly a painless death? But as the months passed by and she used less and less, the lethargy and depression had receded.
As she rubbed her arm and waited for her next client to arrive, Sarah glanced at the calendar on her wall. She had been clean for almost three months now and that was an accomplishment that at one point in her life would have seemed impossible. She had been saving money for many months, planning to move back to where she had grown up, close to where her parents still lived and close to Cassie. She had managed to claw her way out of part of the nightmare in which she had been living for the past few years, but she still had to make the final leap. When she had saved enough money to make the move and hopefully find a nice place close to her parents, then she would perhaps be allowed to get Cassie back. She would find another job. Sarah was absolutely determined to sort out her life this time and the only incentive she required was her daughter. She would do it for her.
