Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (42 page)

He thundered into the attic to see Stel on her knees dabbing at the carpet.

‘Where’s that smell coming from?’

‘Viv’s case,’ said Stel, shoulders hunched, arms tucked in, making herself small.

Ian started to plunder through it.

‘Don’t, that’s Viv’s stuff,’ yelled Stel, making a grab for his arm. Then she grunted as the backhander sent her flying.

He was pulling stoppers out, sniffing, throwing phials and bottles everywhere.

‘Which fucking one is it?’ He was snarling like a dog.

‘It’s the one with “Geraldine” written on it. There,’ Stel pointed, hoping to stop him damaging Viv’s precious things. ‘I’ve spilled most of it.’ She touched her face and there was blood on her fingers but adrenalin was numbing any pain.

Ian picked it up and inhaled. Then his head made a sudden sinister twist to Stel. She lay hunched like a kicked dog on the floor, but her eyes were defiantly wishing him dead.

‘Where was she staying?’

‘Who?’

‘Who do you think, you fucking moron.’

Stel’s mind fell blank with panic. ‘I can’t . . . I can’t –’

A punch. She grunted. A kick. His hand clamped onto her throat and she was lifted to her feet that way.

‘It was called Ironmist,’ gurgled Stel. ‘Wildflower Cott . . .’ She couldn’t breathe and her heart was thumping so hard that she could hear it in her ears. Her last thought before she passed out was that he was going to kill her.

Chapter 97

Viv stared down at the Stripe, following the passage of a leaf as it bumped against the bank and waited for the spit of water to dislodge it so it could resume travelling to wherever it was going, when she heard an alerting cough behind her.

‘Didn’t think anyone knew about this place.’

Viv twisted round to see a girl, younger than her – about eighteen, she guessed. She was wisp-thin and pale-skinned with grey eyes and long white-blonde hair and carrying a dog lead.

‘I’ve been coming here since I was a child,’ said Viv.

‘Have you?’ said the girl. She plonked herself down on the bench and Viv shuftied up, because she was taking up most of the middle.

‘Where’s your dog?’ asked Viv.

‘Haven’t got one,’ said the girl. ‘I just carry this with me in case I bump into any undesirables up here. Not that I ever have, but there’s always a first. If I did, the plan would be to whistle “Come on, boy”.’

‘And pretend you’ve got a Rottweiler?’ suggested Viv.

‘Got it in one,’ said the girl.

Viv lifted her face to the bars of sun straining through the leaves and for a moment imagined she was sitting outside the kitchen door of Wildflower Cottage and in the distance were the moors and Ironmist Castle.

‘Can’t handle the sun, me,’ the girl said. ‘I prefer the shade. It’s my colouring.’ There was a pause then she asked, ‘You smell nice. What’s your perfume?’

‘I can’t remember putting any on,’ Viv answered.

‘Well it must be you, it’s not me.’ The girl leaned over and sniffed at Viv as if she were a pig searching for a truffle. ‘It’s on your clothes. Is it a fabric conditioner? Which one?’

Viv lifted the neckline of her top up to her nose. She still couldn’t smell anything – and if she couldn’t, she doubted anyone else could.

‘Smells a bit like the seaside,’ said the girl. ‘Have you just come back from your holidays?’

‘I’ve been staying on the moors,’ replied Viv.

‘Near Haworth? That’s the only place I know on the moors.’

‘No. It’s a place called Ironmist. I doubt you’ll have heard of it,’ said Viv.

The girl tilted her head one way then the other as if the name were a ball and she were trying to place it in a relevant hole in her head.

‘Nope, I haven’t heard of it. Was it nice?’

‘Yes. Very.’
The loveliest place you could imagine
, Viv added to herself.

The girl rocked to her feet and coiled the lead around her hand.

‘I’d better get back,’ she said, heading off towards the path. ‘Been nice talking to you. See you again, sometime.’

‘Bye,’ smiled Viv. ‘Was nice talking to you too.’

She thought the girl had gone so she didn’t expect to hear her voice again.

‘If it was that lovely, you should go back. Really you should. Now.’

‘Sorry?’

Viv turned round but all that was there was the faintest trail of mist that dissolved as soon as her glance touched it.

Chapter 98

Viv left the clearing, walking quickly down the path to catch up with the girl, but she reached the long straight main road without seeing anyone. There were no other cars on it but her own, nor any walkers or cyclists. That was odd, she thought. As was the feeling that she should get straight back to Stel’s. She was gripped by an inexplicable sense of urgency and she knew she’d been right to rush when she opened the door to her mum’s house and found it weirdly flooded with Geraldine’s perfume.

‘Mum?’ she called, her scalp prickling with anxiety.

She edged into the lounge, hearing voices, but it was only a football match on the TV turned down low. No one was in the kitchen either.

‘Mum?’

Viv ventured upstairs into her mum’s bedroom but it too was empty, as was the bathroom and her old room, now completely taken over by Ian’s belongings.

Something shifted above her head.

‘Mum, are you all right?’ she called again.

The aroma of Geraldine’s perfume was becoming more overpowering with every step towards the attic bedroom. As she opened the door, she found Stel on the floor, back propped against the wall, blouse stained with oil, in a sea of smashed test-tubes. Her hands were trembling and covering her throat protectively. Her breathing was laboured as if her windpipe was barely open and her usual smiling grey-blue eyes were a mass of exploded blood vessels.

Viv dropped to the floor and threw her arms around her mother. ‘Mum, what’s happened? Did Ian do this?’

‘Oh Viv,’ said Stel, clinging to her darling girl. ‘He wanted the name of the place where you’d been living.’ Her voice was a terrified, damaged rasp. ‘He kept asking me who Geraldine was.’

Then Viv knew.

Chapter 99

Viv closed her eyes and willed herself to concentrate.
Focus, Viv.
She needed to decide what to do first.

Stel was her priority. She flew down the stairs, leaped over the communal fence and rapped on Al’s front door urgently, and again. He opened it within the half-minute though it felt like much longer.

‘Viv, love, you all right? I’ve just come out of the shower. What’s on fire?’

‘It’s Mum, Al. Can you come? That Ian has beaten her up.’

Al didn’t say a word. He was straight out of the door and into Stel’s house. He took the stairs like a Olympian and his face creased up when he saw her.

‘Aw Stel,’ he sighed. ‘Viv, I think we should get her to hospital. I’ll take her in the car, it’ll be quicker.’ He looked at Stel’s face and he could only recognise one side of it as being hers. It was as if the other had been pumped up with air. He helped Stel to her feet but her legs were crumbling. ‘Sod this for a lark,’ he said and lifted her up. He took her down the stairs carefully and it was a testament to what a state Stel was in that she didn’t protest.

Behind him Viv was ringing Wildflower Cottage on her mobile. No one answered, but then Geraldine avoided answering the phone like the plague unless she recognised the name on the display. Heath had programmed some in for her, but not Viv’s. Then the answer-machine responded and she heard Heath’s voice.
This is Wildflower Cottage Animal Sanctuary. Please leave a message after the tone and we will get back to you. Thank you.
But this was no time for sentiment.

‘Please pick up if you’re there, it’s Viv, it’s urgent.’ She waited a few beats before continuing, but no one picked up. ‘Geraldine, if you’re listening, please lock all the doors and phone the police immediately or get out of the way. Ian Robson is on his way over to you. He’s been seeing my mum. He’s in a red car. Heath, if you’re there, please keep Geraldine safe. He’s dangerous. You must ring the police. Please ring me back to let me know you’ve got my message. This is urgent. I have to know you’re safe.’ And she left her number slowly and clearly, unlike the garbled, hurried message which preceded it.

Viv had no idea if Heath knew anything about Geraldine’s past and hoped, if he found the message first, that he would take it seriously enough. Then she remembered that the answerphone never flashed an alert. She needed to speak to a person, not a machine; and as Geraldine didn’t have a mobile, she would have to call Heath.

She scrolled down in her address book. She had meant to delete his number but thank goodness she hadn’t yet. She pressed the phone symbol next to his name. Frustratingly it went to voicemail.
Shit
. As she was leaving a message, the incoming call alert sounded. She accepted it. His voice.

‘Viv. Where are you? I’ve been look—’

‘Where are you?’ she gabbled.

‘I’m in Sheffield trying to find you. Viv, I have to talk to you—’

‘Heath, listen,’ Viv cut him off again. ‘I think Geraldine’s in trouble. I might be overreacting, I really hope I’ve got this totally wrong, but you need to get back to Ironmist because she’s not picking up the phone. I think her ex knows where she is. He’s dangerous, Heath. I’ve rung the pol—’

‘Viv, I’m . . . the . . . other side . . . take me . . . hour at . . .’ The line went dead at his end.

As soon as they were outside, Al set Stel onto her feet whilst he ran back into his house for the keys. Viv held onto her, not wanting to let her go, but she was safe – and it was Geraldine who was in danger now. She had to drive to Ironmist. The words of the strange girl with the dog lead were going round and round in her head:
You should go back, really you should. Now.

‘Mum, I’m going to have to get hold of Geraldine. I think Ian knows her and he’s on his way over to her. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.’

Stel nodded and squeezed her daughter’s hand.

‘I wish I could split myself in two.’ Viv’s eyes pricked with tears but she blinked them away because this was no time to be overtaken by emotion; she needed to be sharp and clear and focused.

‘I’ll sort your mum,’ said Al, appearing behind her. He looked down at the old hockey stick in her hand that she’d taken from the umbrella stand. ‘You’d better not be going after him, Viv. You ring the police and let them deal with it.’

‘He’s dangerous, Al. I have to make sure my friend is safe.’ Viv gave her mum a tight hug.

‘Ring the police, Viv,’ Al insisted. ‘Though God knows I wish I’d known sooner because there wouldn’t be enough of that bastard left to arrest.’

*

Viv rang the police whilst she was driving. Frustratingly, the emergency call centre operator kept cutting off what she was trying to say and the situation wasn’t helped by the intermittent mobile signal on the remote Woodhead Pass which traversed the Pennines. Viv kept having to repeat herself and shout to be heard, and the operator seemed more intent on rebuking her for raising her voice than recording details. Eventually the operator said that a squad car would be on its way as soon as possible and Viv had to hope that was true because the call had drained the battery on her mobile to four per cent and she was presently in the middle of nowhere.

Chapter 100

After Geraldine had finished mopping the kitchen floor, she put the kettle on the Aga to boil. She’d overfilled it, as was her habit, but that was all right, because it would just be whistling by the time she’d finished cleaning out Jason Statham’s hutch. Steadily, she got down on her knees and transferred the rabbit to Bub’s old wicker cat basket then she set to with the dustpan and brush. She had meant to clean him out yesterday but what with Heath being away trying to locate Viv, she’d had too much to do and something had to give. She wished he would find her and bring her back. Viv meant a lot to him, to them all. Wildflower Cottage was missing something whilst she wasn’t there; it felt incomplete. There hadn’t even been a wisp of mist for two days.

Pilot suddenly jumped up and gave a woof at the door.

‘Shh, Pilot. There’s nobody there,’ Geraldine threw over her shoulder.

Then she went rigid because behind her, she heard the voice from her nightmares say:

‘But there is, Vonny.
I’m
here.’

*

There was a bottle-neck of traffic at Tintwistle and Viv noticed her petrol gauge had nudged into red which meant she had about thirty miles-worth of petrol left, unless she had to use it all idling here, sandwiched between a bus and a Transit van. She considered turning off the engine then had a sudden vision of trying to restart it and hearing only a laboured turning, or worse a solitary click, as happened in horror movies. It took ten minutes for the traffic to start nudging forwards, but it felt like hours.

*

‘I see you’re down on your knees, Vonny. Just where I like you best,’
he
said.

In her head, Geraldine was screaming, but her mouth wasn’t moving. She was trapped again inside her own body. Running around inside it, trying to find the way out.

Ian stroked Pilot’s head. The gentle old dog let him. It trusted everyone to be nice to it. It had never learned. Geraldine’s eyes were glued on his fingers.
Please don’t hurt Pilot.

‘Nice dog. Does he bite?’

Her voice was a frightened mouse-whisper. ‘No.’

‘I do. Do you remember, Vonny? Or am I supposed to call you Geraldine now?’

Chapter 101

Viv spotted a petrol station coming up on the left-hand side. She daren’t risk running out of fuel so pulled in. Luck was on her side as there was a vacant pump. A tenner’s-worth of unleaded later, she was back on the road.

*

Ian Robson gave a dry, nasty chuckle. ‘Who would have ever thought I’d find you again because of your perfume. Isn’t life funny? Aren’t some things just meant to be?’

Geraldine’s whole body felt heavy, limp, as if she were a puppet being controlled by someone else. Which she was at this moment and had been for many years by the puppet-master standing in front of her. He hadn’t changed at all since she last saw him. Not one bit; he was his same vile, smirking self with those small horrible eyes. But she was changing by the second: from content, free Geraldine Hartley back to crushed, frightened Yvonne Taylor.