Midnight (22 page)

Libby’s voice cut the silence. ‘You’re very welcome to stay and have a drink with us, if you like?’

Thomas graciously refused, ‘I’ll no doubt see you tomorrow, eh?’

As Thomas said his goodbyes, he glanced back as Eileen turned her head to look at him. Her expression was one of gratitude, love and absolute trust.

He thought of the wonderful kiss they had shared and couldn’t help feeling deeply guilty about it.

It was almost midnight when Libby awoke. Something had disturbed her. She got out of bed and went to the window, to look out at the darkness. It was a strange night, she thought. Nothing moved. Everything was too still, too silent. The sky was magnificent – dark and ominous – a night you would not want to be out in. Through the branches of the trees, she could see the moon, hanging like a huge lantern, sending shivers of light across the darkness.

Entranced, Libby was loath to tear herself away, but then she heard the same sound that had awoke her before – a kind of muffled whimper, as though someone was crying. Immediately, she ran out of the room and along the landing. At her mother’s door, she stopped to listen, and she heard the crying. ‘Mum?’ She tapped her knuckles against the wood. ‘Mum, are you all right?’

There was another, different sound, like a chair being moved. ‘Yes, thank you.’

Libby was not convinced. ‘May I come in for a minute?’

‘Why?’

‘Just to see if you’re OK.’

‘All right.’

Libby went inside and found the room in total darkness but for the shaft of moonlight that filtered in through the window. ‘Whatever are you doing there, Mother?’

Eileen was in her nightie, standing by the open window; the curtains, too, were wide open. The room was bitterly cold.

‘Come away from there, Mother!’

Libby hurried across the room. ‘It’s freezing in here. You’ll catch your death!’

As though she hadn’t heard, Eileen remained where she was. ‘Look at that.’ Pointing to the trees, she told Libby, ‘Did you know that trees have arms under the ground?’

Libby closed the window. ‘Trees don’t have arms,’ she answered thoughtfully. ‘They have roots – but I suppose you could say they might look a bit like arms, all long and skinny . . . alive and moving about.’

‘That’s right.’ What Libby had said had reinforced the image in her mother’s mind.

Libby sighed. She was tired after her stint at the supermarket, and aching to get back to her warm bed. ‘It’s late, Mum. Why are we talking about trees, especially at this hour?’ She was so tired she could hardly think straight.

Eileen was gazing out of the window. ‘I like the trees,’ she murmured, as though talking to herself. ‘We need them, don’t we? We’ll have to get some and put them in the garden. Get Thomas some as well, and then we’ll be all right, won’t we?’

‘Mum, can we talk about all this tomorrow?’

Eileen went on, ‘If we have trees, and they have arms that go out looking for food, they’ll gobble up all the good things, and the bad things too. And then the bad things are gone forever, aren’t they?’

Libby drew the curtains. ‘If you say so, Mum.’ She was used to her mother’s strange ideas when her mind wandered.

‘That would be good, because then all the bad things could never come back. Nothing could hurt us any more, so we wouldn’t be afraid then, would we?’

Libby led her back to bed. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of,’ she said comfortingly. ‘At least not in here’ – she glanced at the window – ‘and not out there either.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m positive. Now then, it’s obvious you’ve had some kind of bad dream, but you should not be out of bed, especially with the window and the curtains wide open.’

She needed to know her mother was safe. ‘Look, Mum, it might be best if you come and sleep with me tonight.’

Eileen was adamant. ‘Certainly not! I have my own bed. I’m not a baby.’

‘All right, but if you need me, just call and I’ll be here straight away. OK?’ Libby kissed her goodnight for the second time. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed yourselves today.’

‘Thomas kissed me.’

Libby smiled at that, ‘He thinks a lot of you.’

‘And I think a lot of him.’

‘Good. Now, please – can we both get some sleep?’

Back in her own bed, Libby lay awake for an age, listening and wondering, and smiling at the thought of Thomas giving her Mum a kiss, ‘Thomas kisses everybody,’ she told George, her teddy bear. ‘I bet he was a real ladies’ man in his time.’

After a few minutes of blessed silence, with no sounds emanating from her mother’s room, she fell into a deep sleep.

Next door though, Eileen could not sleep. She got quietly out of bed again and, tiptoeing over to the window, she opened the curtains and looked out.

It was past midnight, but the scene had not changed. The skies were pitch-black, save for hazy shafts of moonlight. The emptiness beneath was interspersed with all manner of eerie things: crooked tree-branches and other, ominous shapes. Each one different, and so incredibly still.

Eileen’s curious gaze fixed on them one after the other, looking, imagining, until the fear took hold again.

It was the same. Always the same.

Quickly now, she closed the curtains and climbed back into bed. She remembered what Libby had said, that they would talk about it tomorrow, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Not any more. Not ever! Because if she didn’t talk about it, maybe it would all go away, and she wouldn’t be afraid ever again.

She searched her mind for the pictures, but she couldn’t find them. They’d gone away. But they would be back.

They always came back
.

Chapter Thirteen

S
IX WEEKS HAD
passed since he and Molly had split up for good. And now, midway through August, Jack was ready to leave Bedfordshire for ever. Tess at Johnson & Everett had found a buyer for his house. Everything had gone smoothly and there was nothing to keep Jack there. It was time to take one last look around.

With bittersweet feelings, he wandered from room to room. It was strange that everything looked the same: the chairs stood where they had always stood, the red patterned rug lay in front of the fireplace, and even the walls were still adorned with framed pictures of vintage cars – though these were about to be taken to storage in Lytham, along with the furniture, until he found a place to buy. For the time being, he was renting a furnished house in Lytham.

He cast his gaze across the sitting-room, content that all of his precious books and photographs were now carefully packed into the large boxes which stood in the centre of the floor. His clothes, his laptop and most of his personal possessions had already been ferried up to Lytham.

He had spent four good years in this house, and there was no denying that he would miss it, just as he would miss his work colleagues in Bletchley. He had no doubt, however, that they would still meet up at various conferences and the like. For now, he had already said his goodbyes to them, and as far as he was concerned, that particular door was shut. It was now time to look forward.

Shrugging off the creeping sense of regret, he went into the hallway and ran up the stairs two at a time. His first stop was the main bedroom – his retreat, overlooking the back garden. He had found much-needed solace here, particularly when his childhood heartache played heavily on his mind.

He had slept here, and when times were good with Molly, they had made love in this very room.

Thinking back on it now, he knew he must shoulder some of the blame for the way things had turned out. He had given in to her until she became selfish and demanding – and he hoped she would not take advantage of Mal, as he was a good and generous man who doted on her. For that very reason, Mal might have to pay a hard price.

Jack had loved Molly, but he was not sorry to have left her behind. They each had a new life, a new beginning. And yet his was not really a beginning; it was more like a going back. After all these years, he was headed home, back to his roots.

Without him consciously trying to recall her, Libby came into his mind. Her name sat well on his lips: ‘My dear friend, Libby.’ He could see her now in his mind’s eye – her small, pretty face and those lovely, honest eyes. And the way her nose wrinkled when she giggled, as she so often did. The thought of Libby was like a ray of sunshine to brighten this lonely day.

Libby had been someone he could talk to. She was thoughtful and generous. A loyal and caring friend, come rain or shine. Even now, with other matters on his mind, Libby was paramount in his thoughts. ‘I expect, after all this time, she’s forgotten all about me,’ he murmured. ‘I expect Libby’s married now with a husband and children.’ He found himself envying that man, whoever he might be.

Molly too had once been caring and loving. Recently though, he had seen a different side to her. When he had stopped dancing to her tune, she had revealed her true nature, and it was not pleasant.

Molly had proven to be a fair-weather friend. Like a child, she stamped her foot if she didn’t get her own way, and that did not bode well for a life together; especially when she knew, more than anyone, how badly the nightmares affected him. Thankfully, for some reason he had not suffered a really bad one of late. Perhaps because there was too much to think about, too much to plan for.

When the loud rat-a-tat came at the front door, it startled him.
‘Hold on!’
Springing up, he ran down the stairs at the double.
‘I’m on my way!’

Flinging open the door, Jack was pleased to see the small removal van at the kerbside. ‘Are you Mr Redmond?’ The man who spoke was of burly build, with a tuft of grey hair sticking out each side of his cap.

‘I am, yes,’ Jack confirmed. He led the man and his skinny mate along the passageway to the front room. ‘A lot of the big stuff has been sold off or given away,’ he explained. ‘I thought I’d make a clean sweep. Everything is packed, apart from half a dozen small boxes.

Taking down the paintngs, the burly fellow carefully began bundling them up in bubble-wrap. ‘Hey, look at that!’ He pointed to the painting of a vintage car. ‘My dad had one o’ them! It was his very first car.’

When the packing and loading were done, and the form duly signed, the two men stopped on the path to light a cigarette. Jack overheard the big fellow going into raptures about the paintings. ‘I can’t believe he’s got a painting of a Hillman Minx! I should’ve asked if he wanted to sell it.’

‘Shouldn’t think he’d sell it,’ came the gruff reply. ‘Class bit of engineering, that car was.’

‘It’s not the some these days though, is it? No quality. Same as today’s music. Oh, but we used to have some great bands.’

The skinny man took a long drag on his roll-up. ‘I always used to like the Beatles as a band,’ he said, picking a shred of tobacco off his top lip. ‘But I never could stand that Paul McCartney. He allus looked like a cocky little bugger to me.’

‘Well, maybe that’s because he’s talented an’ you never will be.’

‘Huh! I’d like to see ’im shift a six-foot bed with iron legs on his own.’

The big man’s laughter echoed down the street. ‘Never mind
’im!
I’d like to see
you
do that on yer own. Even
I’d
’ave to struggle. I might be built like a tank, but I’m only human. Yer daft sod! What are yer like? You’d be lost without me!’

As always, the foreman had the last word.

Jack took one last look around, then he left the house and went to sit on the front doorstep.

‘You’re leaving then, young man?’ It was Miss Parrot from two doors down. Nobody knew her real name, but they nicknamed her Miss Parrot, because she had a habit of repeating everything anyone said to her.

‘Yes.’ Jack came to the gate. ‘I’m off to pastures new.’

‘Oh, “Off to pastures new,” eh?’

‘That’s right. And I’d best be on my way.’ He stood up. ‘Bye, then. Take care of yourself.’

She gave a nod of her silvery head. ‘Goodbye, then, and good luck.’

Somehow, the sight of her ambling off down the street made him feel sad. Now, with his worldly possessions gone and the house empty, he thought it best to get away, as fast and as far as he could. Putting his suitcase into the boot, he drove to the estate agency, where he handed in his keys.

‘I’m sorry, but Tess has just left for an early lunch. Can I help? I’m up to speed with your case.’ This was Tina Argent, the young woman who had tittle-tattled about him selling his house through this agency, instead of taking it to Molly’s. Jack knew she had leaked the information. He gave her a searching look. ‘I’ve sent everything else to the solicitor. Here are the keys.’ He singled out each one. ‘They all have a label. Back door. Front door. Then these others are for the little green shed out back, and the side gate.’ He signed the necessary form, then turned to leave. At the door he was stopped by her quiet remark: ‘Did you know that Molly and Mal got engaged?’

He nodded. ‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’

‘Ah! But did you know after they got engaged, they had a shocking bust-up and Mal threatened to call off the wedding?’

Jack was saddened by that, but not altogether surprised, knowing Molly. He was also angry that the information should be bandied about like this. ‘I don’t believe that’s any of my business – or yours.’ he told her coolly. ‘And no, I would not have known if you hadn’t told me.’

Leaning over the desk, he gave her a warning. ‘But did
you
know that spreading idle gossip concerning other people’s private lives, can get you into a whole heap of trouble?’ He paused to let that snippet of information sink in. ‘You could even lose your job. Is that what you want?’

Blushing bright pink with embarrassment, she said, ‘I didn’t mean anything by it – only I thought you should know, as you and Molly had planned to get married.’ She saw his expression and stuttered, ‘Sorry.’

‘So you should be. So now let that be an end to it, eh?’

Her attitude became instantly sharp and professional. ‘Er, thank you, Mr Redmond. I’ll make sure these keys get to the new owner.’ Swinging about in her swivel-chair, she pretended to be busy.