Vengeance Child (8 page)

‘Let me go,' Archer pleaded.

‘First, I've got to show you something.'

‘I don't want to see it.'

‘Archer.'

‘Don't say my name. Please, Jay, I haven't hurt you. Don't do anything bad to me, Jay!' The eight-year-old was close to tears. A breeze stirred the leaves into a chuckle. As if the forest would take pleasure in witnessing whatever fate befell Archer. ‘Please, Jay. It isn't fair . . .'

‘Archer.'

‘No, please don't.'

‘I'm going to take you to see your dad.'

This shook Archer. ‘You can't; he's dead. I saw him open the door; then they shot him.'

Jay murmured, ‘Keep next to me. Don't stop walking.'

Archer looked down at his feet – they were traitors. He hadn't even realized he'd stood up, let alone started walking. Jay led him through the undergrowth.

‘You can see yourself, can't you, Archer?' The voice could have been a whisper of cold air coming from a cave.

Close to panic, Archer snapped, ‘I don't know what you mean!'

‘You can see yourself coming down the stairs at your house.'

‘Course I can't. You're being stupid.'

‘You can see yourself walking down the steps. You're wearing a green T-shirt.'

‘You're making it up.'

‘Your mother bought you that T-shirt earlier that morning.'

‘You witch. You're trying to scare me.'

Jay continued in the monotone as they walked down a soil bank. ‘You're on the stairs and you're looking down at your father. He's standing in the hallway. Someone's banging on the front door.'

‘Liar.'

Archer ran down the banking. He'd had enough of this. What mattered now was to get back to the farm. Only the soft dirt under his feet became hard steps. When he reached the bottom he saw the bushes had gone. He couldn't see Jay. There was no smell of dirt. Instead he could smell the bacon his father had fried.

Archer blinked. Somehow – and he didn't know how it had happened – he was standing in the hallway at the foot of a staircase. He was back in his old home again. He knew his mother was upstairs. Now it was
that
day again. The one when his father's friends came to call after they'd discovered the money had vanished. His father had shiny black hair, brushed back from his face. His face was always tanned and he wore a thick gold chain round his neck. ‘My freedom ticket' was how he described it as he fingered the heavy links. Always he looked pleased with himself. Even cocky.

Except today. His face had gone ugly with fear. The knock on the door grew louder.

‘Archer, come here, son,' he said. ‘That's it. Don't be scared. There's a good lad.' He tried to smile but his lips curled oddly as if he might start crying. ‘Go to the door, Archer. Don't open it.
Whatever you do, don't unlock it.
Just shout through that you're home with your mother but your dad's out of town.'

‘I want to get Mum the facecloth.'

‘Later.'

‘Her nose is bleeding.'

‘Archer, you little runt, do as I tell you.' Even as he spoke he rubbed his hand against his trouser leg to wipe away the red smear. ‘Tell them, I'll be back tonight. I'll phone them then.' Then he said to himself, ‘Some chance. I'll be long gone.'

‘Dad—'

‘Just fucking well do it. OK?'

Archer nodded.

‘You see you do it right. If you screw up, I'll rip your face off and stuff it down your throat.' With that threat he backed through the basement door, and Archer heard soft footsteps descending.

Archer noticed drops of his mother's blood on the floor tiles. These days when she cried she made it silent. Dad didn't like weeping noises.

The thuds on the panel grew impatient.

Archer went to the door. He remembered what his father had instructed. ‘
Go to the door, Archer. Don't open it. Whatever you do, don't unlock it. Just shout through that you're home with your mother but your dad's out of town.
'

The thud of fist against wood got louder.

Archer took a deep breath. Then he unlocked the door and opened it to three men in leather jackets, they had gold rings on every finger. He always remembered those huge gold rings.

One of the men started to speak. Archer interrupted, ‘He's down in the cellar. You'll find him hiding behind the washing machine.' When they looked at him blankly he added, ‘He made a secret space in the wall behind the washer.'

For a moment Archer thought he was waking up in bed. He realized he stood in the forest with Jay. He gasped as if in pain.

Jay's face held no emotion. ‘You saw your father.'

‘It wasn't like that,' Archer protested. ‘I didn't tell them where he was! He opened the front door and they shot him. I didn't tell. I didn't!' A muscle seemed to tear inside Archer's chest. The pain freed him from standing there. He fled through the trees. Rabbits scattered in panic. His breathing came in hard, moaning sounds. Something between weeping and angry shouting. All his feelings were mixed up inside. For years he'd genuinely believed he'd seen his father shot on the doorstep of the family home. Now, it had changed. The truth had been revealed to him by Jay. Now he remembered what really happened. His mother had laid on the bed with a bloody nose. The words he'd uttered to the men in their heavy gold rings came back so powerfully they roared inside his head. ‘
He's down in the cellar. You'll find him hiding behind the washing machine.
' What if the men hadn't shot his father? What would his father have done to him if he had found out that Archer had betrayed him?

Sunlight falling through the branches dappled the ground. Where now? He was lost in the wood. A breeze moaned through the trees. Timbers creaked. A sound like a coffin lid opening. Oh, how he'd dreamed about that happening. How his father would escape from the cemetery to find him. To get his own back. Archer knew all about his father's anger. Death wouldn't be enough to stop it.

Archer circled a clump of brambles. Then he stopped running. His father stood in the shadows. Archer saw where the bullet had smashed through his cheekbone. The force of the impact had thrust the left eye from the socket so that it hung out to gravely regard the ground. The right eye, however, glared with hatred at Archer.

His father snarled, ‘You told on me, Archer. I'm going to rip your face off and stuff it down your throat.'

Then a strange thing happened to the boy. He could still move. Yet his limbs seemed to turn stiff as wood. Although he couldn't run he turned away from the man with the bullet hole in his face, then he started walking. His rigid legs carried him back into the trees. At that moment he couldn't shout, or even turn his head to see the monster.

‘Archer . . . stay there . . .'

Instinct told Archer to keep walking. Even his mind had jammed up now. No thoughts went through his head. Just walk. Maybe everything will turn out well. Footsteps sounded behind him. They grew louder. He reached open ground. A shadow fell on him, a big black stain that spread out on the grass in front of him. His father always cast a huge shadow. Now it engulfed the child as the man got closer.

‘Archer. Don't run away from me.'

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. It stopped him from moving. He found himself being turned round to look into the face from the grave.

‘Archer . . .'

The boy's knees gave way. Everything had gone faint.

‘Archer, what's wrong?'

He looked up into the man's face.

‘Victor?'

Then the world went away.

Ten

Victor had been surprised by his effect on Archer. The child's entire body had seized up tight. Then he'd slowly walked away through the trees. Victor would have needed all the sensitivity of a concrete block to miss the fact that something had gone badly wrong with him. He'd gone after the boy, calling his name. When he touched one of Archer's narrow shoulders the boy had dropped down in a faint. As Victor picked up the boy, marvelling at how light he was, he noticed the dead stare of the eyes. Immediately, he returned to his sister's farm at a run. At that moment he believed the boy would die in his arms. Yet the jog of being carried revived him.

‘Put me down,' Archer insisted.

‘Don't worry. I'll get you indoors, then we can get someone to look at you.'

‘Put me down.' The voice rose. ‘Let me walk.'

Victor gently set him down. ‘What happened back there?'

‘Nothing.'

‘You might be coming down with a bug.'

‘I'm not. I'm fine.'

Before Victor could say anything else the boy raced across the field to join the other children at the barn, where they still tucked into snacks. What now? Report Archer's fainting spell to Laura? Had the shock of seeing Victor in the woods caused some kind of blip that made him keel over? Of course, he knew what he had to do. He decided to find Laura.

Laura was busy in the farmhouse kitchen with a teenage girl who complained loudly that she had a headache. When Victor signalled he needed to speak to her she mouthed, just give me a minute. Then she broke a couple of tablets out of a blister pack. The girl kicked up a fuss. ‘Is this all? My head's splitting. It's my period!'

Victor returned to the yard. There Archer held a juice box in his hand as if it had just dropped down from another planet. He stared at the carton, eyes glassy.

He doesn't know what to do with it, Victor told himself, the kid must have had one hell of a shock. From twenty paces away, Victor checked the boy over the best he could. His clothes weren't dishevelled, no sign of physical injury. Maybe he'd got himself lost in the woods and given himself a scare. Victor knew he'd be overstepping the mark if he interrogated the boy so he decided to stay put until Laura emerged.

There were around twenty children standing outside the barn. Most were dropping their empty cartons into a box that had been provided for refuse. Often school parties would squirt what remained of the juice on to other kids, however the children from Badsworth Lodge were not only well behaved but there was a sense of stillness about them. They could be so uncannily quiet at times. Maybe it was just because Badsworth Lodge was a specialist centre for troubled youngsters. These kids today were unusually subdued. It didn't take long to recognize the source of their unease. Jay stood near the barn. Although the kids didn't make a fuss about it they quietly gravitated to the other end of the yard to keep their distance. Jay, meanwhile, did nothing but watch them with those large eyes of his.

‘Victor? Did you need me?'

He turned to see Laura. The breeze toyed with her hair. ‘Can we speak?'

‘Weren't we due to meet up at eight? It's just we've got to get the children back to the lodging houses by three.' She shrugged. ‘I don't know what it is . . . some are out of sorts today.'

‘We don't have much in the way of transport on the island, but I can borrow a tractor and trailer.' He smiled. ‘That passes for a limo service round here.'

‘The walk back might be just what they need, so I'll pass on your limo service this time. Thanks though, I appreciate it.'

‘No problem.'

‘Sorry if I sound like a clock-watcher but I can only spare you five minutes.'

‘Can we go into the field? We best chat out of earshot.'

‘What's wrong?' Concern appeared on her face.

‘It might be something and nothing . . .' He opened the gate to the field. Lou noticed where they were going and pointed to her watch.

‘We run a tight ship.' Laura sounded apologetic. ‘We try to get them into a routine.' She gave one of those little shrugs again that Victor found heart-warming. ‘You see, at Badsworth Lodge spontaneity is too close to chaos for the children's liking. Generally, they've led unstable home lives so routine, such as meals at set times, is comforting.' When they'd put distance between them and the children she said in a businesslike way, ‘So, what have you got?'

‘About twenty minutes ago, I saw Jay go off into the woods alone. He doesn't know the area so I decided to bring him back to the yard.' This time it was Victor who shrugged. ‘I didn't find Jay, but I found Archer. When he saw me he reacted like he'd seen a . . . I don't know . . . a monster. He just froze in shock. It was as if he was so scared he could hardly move his legs. When I caught up with him he just fell in a heap. Out cold. Like a lump of dead meat. He came round a few minutes later, even so, I have to admit to being worried about him.'

‘I'll check him over. Thanks for telling me.'

Victor reacted with surprise. ‘You aren't going to ask him what happened?'

‘Not yet.'

‘But—'

‘Victor, children at Badsworth Lodge aren't like the ones you normally meet. You've heard of planets out there in the solar system, where gravity's so powerful a bird would weigh the same as a cow. Or it's so cold that the atmosphere has turned to ice. Well, Badsworth Lodge is another world. Normal rules of human behaviour don't apply there.'

‘It wouldn't hurt to ask Archer what—'

‘But it might cause more damage than you can imagine. I have to tread carefully. We are a specialist unit, just like some hospitals specialize in cardiac care. We treat some of the most troubled individuals in the country. Listen, when something unpleasant happens to one of those children –' she nodded at the group – ‘they invariably clam up. They repress emotional hurt. It's second nature. Because being emotional is seen as weakness, which invites bullying. It's not pleasant, Victor, but those children learnt that one way to survive abuse is to lock away the truth.'