The Taken (15 page)

Simon grinned. “Is that the hint of a maternal streak?”

Despite the fact that they were meant as a joke, Alex felt the words like a slap in the face. Maternal streak?

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Ha. What would be the point of that? It was her reproductive system that was killing her, after all.

“No.” Her voice was chilled. “Just practical thinking.”

For a second she enjoyed seeing the wobble on Simon’s smile as he tried to figure out just what he’d said to piss her off, and then the pettiness of it overwhelmed her. Kay was dead. The vicar was dead. And more than that, how the hell was Simon supposed to know about her? She gave him a wan smile. “And men are rubbish when they get a cold.”

The four men were ready to leave with rope and torches when Crouch tentatively suggested that one pair take the shotgun he kept behind the bar, and the other a large knife. Paul and Simon stared at each other for a moment before Paul nodded toward Tom. “You take it. I haven’t shot one of those things since I was a kid.

I’d probably just blow my own foot off.”

Nodding, Tom gripped the gun and held it over his shoulder. “At least you’ll know if we get in trouble. Even in this weather, you’ll hear it if I have to fire this thing.”

Paul looked down at the large kitchen knife in his hand. “Well, I guess if we get into trouble I’ll just have to scream my head off.” He smiled. “Which won’t be a problem.”

Listening to their banter, Alex felt her heart racing. She wasn’t sure that guns and knives would work with whatever they were up against. “Just get out of the village and get some help.” She paused, watching them zip up their coats and get ready to head out into the encroaching dark. “And take care.”

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Simon set a brisk pace along the stretch of pavement, Paul indicating where they should turn to take the shortcut around the back of some of the houses and out into the woods. As soon as they stepped off the concrete and onto the soft earth, Simon felt the ground working against his feet and his heart sank. It was going to be hard work. According to Paul, they had at least three or four miles to go, most of it uphill. Still, he didn’t shorten his stride. The quicker they got through the trees and to the next village the better.

The rain pattered heavily through the leaves above them, running together and falling in weighty drops, and Simon paused to zip his coat right up to his chin.

Paul was a few paces behind and as he came alongside, Simon could hear his friend was already a little out of breath. Behind them he could see the lights glowing from The Rock and for a moment wished that he’d stayed in that warmth.

Whatever was going on in this strange little town was really none of his business.

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And then he thought of Alex. There was something about her that connected with him and he hoped that maybe when all this was over he could persuade her to go out on an old-fashioned date with him. So maybe this shit was his business a little bit, after all.

He looked at Paul, his cheeks puffing as he breathed. They’d only walked about fifteen minutes and still had a long way to go. If he didn’t have Paul with him, Simon figured he’d make the journey in pretty good time, but he knew that his friend wasn’t going to be able to match his own pace for long.

“You okay, mate?”

Paul nodded. “If you mean will I be able to keep up, then yes. I’ll give it my best shot. I don’t want to be in these woods any longer than I have to. Not in this weather.”

They walked side by side in silence, picking their way through the patches of slippery leaves and slimy tree roots, all the time their feet sliding half a pace back with each step. For a while there was just the sound of their own breathing and the weather; the village behind them had totally disappeared.

Simon sniffed and broke the peace. “You know this town, Paul. Who do you think is doing this stuff? You don’t really think kids could have done that to Kay, do you?”

Paul laughed, but it was devoid of warmth. After what had happened to him today, Simon thought it would be long time before he heard Paul’s rich, earthy, devil-may-care laugh again.

“What’s so funny?”

Paul trudged ahead. “Trust me, you really don’t want to know what I think.”

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked.”

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“I should have known the little cow would come back. I should have known it.”

Paul’s voice was weary, and Simon grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop and look at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want to know who I think is doing all this? Melanie Fucking Parr.” Simon shook his head. “That’s crazy. Melanie Parr’s dead.”

“Maybe she is. And that scares the shit out of me, because she was scary enough when she was alive.” Paul’s voice was getting louder, somewhere between a laugh and a shout. “And now she’s leaving messages in windows, scaring old women, leaving her name on the fucking vicar’s dying breath, and if she’s dead then I don’t know how we can stop her, because Melanie never got bored of playing games. Never.” He took a deep breath, calming himself. “And I think she’s going to play with us until we’re all dead, just like her.” He stared at Simon. “Now you can call me crazy if you like. But you didn’t know Melanie Parr. You didn’t know what she was capable of.”

The stillness uncomfortable, Simon started to walk again, his long stride matching his heartbeat. “What did you mean? Last night you said you barely remembered her.”

Paul sighed. “I lied.” Grimacing, he matched Simon’s steps. “Although I wish it were true. She was an evil little bitch. She made my life hell.” He sniffed, the exercise having made his nose run. “Not just mine. Most of us kids. She scared us.”

Despite himself, Simon couldn’t help but feel disappointed in his friend.

Secrets and lies. Everybody had them. “Okay, so tell me about it. Tell me what she was

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like, what she did. I think it’s about fucking time someone started saying something about her.”

For about five minutes, Paul stayed silent, and then, as if having made peace with himself and the memories he was dragging back to the forefront, he began to speak. Despite his city lifestyle having taken its toll on his body, he didn’t get out of breath as he climbed the muddy inclines, reaching for a branch here or there to ease his way, speaking quietly and clearly. It was as if he were so far in the past he’d forgotten how out of shape the Paul of the present was. It was Simon who was sucking oxygen hard into his lungs, keeping alongside, listening to his friend bringing Melanie Parr back to life.

“When Melanie and her mother arrived in the village, it caused quite a stir. Us kids were only seven or eight, but even we could tell. You know, listening to our mothers talking in that really excited, serious way women do when they’re gossiping.” He smiled slightly, immersing himself in the memory.

“Mrs. Parr was very glamorous. There wasn’t really anyone like that in the village or even in Wiwy, not that was part of our day-to-day lives. She dressed like someone out of the movies, or at least it seemed like that to us. I guess looking back, she was just a city girl with a few nice dresses and a couple pairs of high heels, but compared to the sensible shoes of the farmers’ wives and women like my mother, who only really dressed for church on Sunday’s, she may as well have been Marilyn Monroe. Alex’s mum, my aunt Alicia, was beautiful, but in an ethereal way, not red-lipped and nail-varnished like Mrs. Parr.”

“And of course, Mrs. Parr was a divorcee. The rest of 151

the country might have got their heads round that issue, but in this part of the world marriage was still for life. She seemed dangerous and exciting to our mothers, and they decided that the best way to get close to her was to ensure that we all got close to Melanie.” He smiled slightly. “There were a lot of tea and garden parties that summer, and whether we wanted her to or not, Melanie Parr became part of our gang. I guess we didn’t mind at first; I don’t remember minding, I just remember thinking that she wasn’t really like us. Even when she was laughing, it seemed she had a secret, but then I was never sure of kids when I first met them. I’d get all shy and then my stutter would get much worse.” He ignored the water that strayed into his mouth. “God, I was a geek. But me aside, I don’t remember any of us thinking anything very much about her in those first few weeks. Ironic really, considering how she fucked about with our lives so much in the couple of years that came after.”

Simon’s foot sank suddenly, and in danger of sliding downhill with the mud, he grabbed a thin sapling, bending it under his bodyweight, and yanked himself free. “Who was in your gang?”

“Most of the kids from the village. Me, Tom, Kay, her sister, James Rose, a few others. Alex, of course, was a few years from being born at that point. She was lucky enough to miss out on all this. The rest of us all went to the primary school in Wiwy, but before then there’d been a nursery in Watterrow, so we’d played together forever. It was easy. All our families knew each other. We were always in and out of each other’s houses, playing in the farms and the woods. We had so much energy in those days. But our games were pretty 152

simple until Melanie started playing. She liked to play games with your head. I don’t think any of us liked them. Or liked ourselves for playing them.”

“What kind of games?” Simon was relieved to feel the ground level out slightly.

They were definitely making better time than he’d thought they would, Paul not slowing them down. And at least his story was taking both their minds off the growing ache in their legs and the thought that there might be two children lost in the woods somewhere.

Again Paul let out that dead laugh. “What kind of games? Twisted ones. The kind you would never tell anyone about. Like when we built the pirate station out on the river. Kay wasn’t really happy about it. She didn’t mind playing on the bank, but she was scared of water then. Think she always was. We never really talked about it after that. And you know how it is. The older you get the harder you try to cover your weaknesses. And we never really talked about the things that happened back then. When Melanie was gone it was easier to just try and forget them.

“Anyway, Melanie persuaded her to swim over to this raft thing we’d built that was tied to an old oak tree on the other side leading up to the woods. Kay was really scared and shaking, but Melanie was good at making you do stuff.”

Darkness bent his brow. “And then using it against you.”

He paused a moment before going back to his story. “She said it would be good for Kay. Help her get over her fears. Said she’d swim with her. The rest of us waited on the bank.”

“Who else was there?”

“Me, Tom Tucker and Joe. I’ll tell you about Joe in a 153

minute. Anyway, they get to this raft, which was really no more than a few branches and logs inexpertly tied together, and we all start cheering and Kay almost relaxes, when all of a sudden, Melanie lets go of her, dives down and swims back to us, climbing out with this great big grin on her face.

“Kay was yelling for her to come back, clutching at the biggest log, which looked like it might come away from its binding, she was holding onto it so hard. Tom was about to get in the water to go out to her when Melanie spoke in that clear butter-wouldn’t-melt voice that she had. ‘Maybe we’ll leave you there, Kay’ she said. ‘How would you like that? Do you think you could get back here by yourself?’

“I could see Kay looking around her, and for a minute it looked like she was sure she could swim that far, even with her flailing doggy-style strokes, and then Melanie carried on, all smooth and confident, saying stuff like, ‘Did you feel the tug of the current, Kay? I had to fight it helping you over there. It wouldn’t take a second for it to suck you down, pull you under, not with the way you swim. You’re weak, Kay. The river would drag you down. Down to the weeds that’d wrap round your legs and hold you tight. And then none of us would be able to help you, no matter how hard we might want to. All that water going into your lungs as you try to breathe. I wonder what it feels like.’” Paul shook his head, irritated at his own inadequate retelling.

“It’s difficult to explain why she was so effective. It was something in her voice. It made you believe in her, just for a little while. ‘Maybe we’ll just sit here and watch,’ she said, and we did. Me and Tom sat down and 154

enjoyed Kay crying and begging for help. Joe grumbled for a bit and then squatted beside us. After half an hour, even though it was a warm day, Kay was shivering. That river was cold, the summers are never long enough to warm it up properly, and her feet were going numb.

“Joe started cursing under his breath, not fascinated by this, not like the rest of us, not at all, but Melanie just watched Kay, her blond hair tucked carefully behind her ear and her voice normal, as if she were talking about anything, and that made it scarier, and she said, ‘You’ll never make it back now, Kay, will you? You’re too cold. Your muscles just won’t work properly for you. It’s just about time now. Just waiting. Will you let go of the wood now, or in an hour?

How far will you get before you sink? How long can you hold your breath under water? Which of us will try to save you first? All these questions, and the outcome will be just the same. Water in your lungs.’”

He looked up at Simon, searching for some kind of understanding. “I mean, we were eight years old. Have you ever heard a child talk like that? She mesmerized us.”

Simon didn’t know what kind of comfort he could offer his friend except just listening, and Paul looked back down at his feet.

“It was weird. It was like I wasn’t myself and Kay wasn’t Kay. Watching her panic, her fear, and knowing that we had the power to prolong it or stop it, released some kind of primal thing in us. I can’t explain it and part of me hated it, but god, I was eight years old and it was the closest to a hard-on that a kid of that age can get. And it was Melanie that was doing it.”

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Rain ran through Simon’s hair and almost into his eyes, but he didn’t really notice. He was absorbed in the hot sunny day of over thirty years ago. “What happened? I mean Kay didn’t drown, so did she swim?”