Albatross (20 page)

“I have the pleasure now of introducing to you the man who has made all of this possible…” Greg went on, cutting his speech as short as he possibly could. “He is one of our biggest supporters, and rarely do I have the honour of meeting anybody so dedicated to our noble cause…”

Momentary applause sounded again and Greg extended his arm towards Deacon in a slow, exaggerated motion.

“I have the privilege of introducing to you, for those of you who haven’t already had the pleasure: the man of the hour! Mr Deacon Ash!”

Rapturous applause followed as Deacon rose to Greg’s welcome and took the stage front and centre, shaking Greg’s hand firmly as he stepped up.

He turned to face the crowd and raised his hand appreciatively. He was forced immediately to stifle an outrageous laugh, however, for away in the background his all-seeing gaze caught a glimpse of the ravishing Amy Goodwill, delivering a swift and effective slap square across Ben’s cheek.

She stormed off and out of sight, and as the applause gradually died down, Ben just turned to face Deacon and shrugged as if he was surprised, grinning foolishly.

“Thank you…” Deacon began, though he was still struggling to keep from falling about in laughter. “You’re too kind…” He managed, raising his hands again and buying himself a few more moments for self-composure.

He took a deep breath, glancing for a second at Jen and smiling shrewdly.

“As I’m sure you’re aware…” He began, talking with his body just as much as with his words. “The money raised here tonight for Greenway will be pumped straight back into providing renewable energy sources for all of us, and for future generations to come…”

Another applause break ensued and Deacon paused, gathering his thoughts.

He didn’t look nervous in the slightest, Jen noted. She was glad she wasn’t the one up there.

“I would like to say a huge thank you to everybody who has made donations this evening, and of course to those of you who have made purchases. I’m very happy to say that, thanks to your kind generosity, all of the paintings on display here today have now been sold!”

His voice rose and was matched by the applause and cheering of his audience. He beamed out across the crowd and Jen felt something that felt very much like surging pride swell up inside of her, and she realised in that moment just how much Deacon meant to her.

She only hoped that, when the time came that he discovered the truth, and learned in fact that Caroline was right, that he saw just as much as he always seemed to, and looked past the obvious. She hoped he would looked deeper into her heart than anybody else could, and when he did, she hoped that he loved her enough to understand, and to forgive her.

“However!” He cut them off then, glancing into the crowd at Greg as he deviated off script. Jen stole a look across the way at Mr Hughes, and she had to say he looked decidedly nervous at Deacon’s sudden turn.

Clearly he didn’t like undiscussed alterations to the plan.

She had a feeling, however, that he would be rather fond of this one.

“Normally…” He pressed on. “As I’m sure many of you know, a certain percentage of the exhibition donations go directly to Greenway…”

And even as he spoke, a young man in a dark blue suit, one of Greg’s followers, appeared with a large, prewritten cheque, though admittedly he looked a little dubious.

Gregory’s condition seemed to be catching…

Deacon took the huge cheque gratefully, glancing at the amount briefly before spinning it and showing it to the crowd.

Gasps of awe and overjoyed applause immediately broke out.

Jen’s jaw dropped and she saw that her mother’s did the same, as they both at the same time saw the writing and the figure scrawled upon it.

Eight Hundred and Twenty Three Thousand Pounds Only

£823,000.00

              Eventually the applause died off and Deacon drew a very deep breath yet again.

              Gregory looked to be sweating visibly.

              “However…” He began ominously. “That isn’t the amount Greenway will be receiving tonight…”

              Rather symbolically he cast the cheque aside, dropping it behind a chair off to the side of the room, and allowing buzzing murmurs to start as he returned much slower than necessary to centre stage, grinning mischievously at Jen in a way that sent her weak at the knees.

              “No…” Deacon finally continued, halting the chatter and silencing the room in an instant.

The whole building seemed to hold its breath.

“Instead, I’d like to donate an extra ten percent, on top of the fifty already given, to help ensure that we have our most successful green energy year yet!”

Jen had thought the applause before was impressive.

This time, before Deacon had even finished his sentence, the crowds exploded into a frenzy of cheering and whooping and clapping, ecstatic at his announcement.

Gregory too, Jen noticed, was overjoyed, and his panicked sweats had dried up almost instantly.

The speeches continued after that, as they were bound to. Greg joined Deacon once again and delivered an impromptu thank you, drawing heavily on his extensive vocabulary in an attempt to voice Deacon’s overwhelming kindness.

Others came up to speak too, many of whom were among the richest in the room. And it seemed they had all donated vast sums of money to Greenway over the years, and had attended most, if not all, of Deacon’s exhibitions.

After that, once the speeches and the many bottles of champagne had all run their course, the night began to draw gradually to a close.

As the hours pressed on and the guests began to filter out, Jen felt sleep beckoning her ever closer. She was exhausted, as was her mother, but on the contrary, Deacon seemed to be not in the least bit weary, and was as alert as ever.

In the darkness of the car, zipping by streetlights and bright signs as they hurtled home, the quiet music from the radio quickly lulled Jen into an exhausted slumber, all the while her thoughts upon Deacon and his exhibition and indeed how immensely proud she was of him.

Such thoughts to drift off to sleep to, for a change, were a gladly met relief for young Jennifer, and she welcomed them contentedly as the gentle rocking of the car cast her off into her overactive subconscious.

Unforeseen Shadows

             
An abrupt, harsh dip in the road startled Jen awake all of a sudden, and she stirred groggily from her slumber to see trees, fence lines, drystone walls, and the occasional cottage flashing by in the darkness.

              She glanced back briefly and saw that Dyra was still asleep.

              “Where are we?” She whispered, rubbing her aching neck wearily.

              “About ten minutes away…” Deacon replied in an instant, throwing her a quick smile across the car, always so alert.

              “Are you okay?” Jen asked, keeping her voice hushed. “Aren’t you tired?”

              “I’m fine, thank you.” Deacon replied simply, reaching over with his left hand and entwining his fingers with Jen’s in her lap.

              She gripped his hand with both of hers, feeling his warmth radiating out even from that meagre touch.

He never seemed tired. He very rarely rested. Jen didn’t quite understand it. But then, she supposed, it wasn’t really a bad thing.

“I’ve had a lovely time today…” Jen mused aloud then, her words still very quiet and her voice low, as if they were just barely more than a thought.

“I’m glad.” Deacon replied, nodding his head and grinning. “I hope so…”

“It’s really something…” Jen continued to muse, and Deacon glanced across at her briefly through the dim light.

“What’s that?” He questioned.

“You…” Jen responded without hesitation, and she immediately found herself blushing. “Your art…” She quickly corrected, though she hadn’t been lying in the first place. “Your donations, your support for Greenway…I’ve never seen anything like it before…”

“Well, thank you…” Deacon replied, smirking so cheekily that Jen could tell even in the dim light the mischievous look in his eyes.

She couldn’t help but flush hot under the collar, and though there was no way she could be sure whether he’d noticed or not, she had to assume that he had.

Soon enough Deacon slowed his car and they pulled to a steady stop outside Keepers Cottage. Dyra stirred in the seats behind and yawned loudly.

“Are we back…?” She mumbled in a groggy voice.

“Yes, mom.” Jen chuckled in reply, opening the car door and stepping out into the cold air of the night.

It bit at her exposed face hungrily and had the feel of menace about it, even as it swarmed invisibly upon the three of them.

Then Deacon was by her side, holding the door open for Dyra, though he too looked stiff and cautious, and glanced here and there warily at the lurking shadows all around.

Jen’s mother stepped wearily out of the car, grunting slightly as she did so.

“Thank you, Deacon.” She managed, but he only smiled in response and closed the car door slowly behind her, his eyes everywhere all at once.

However, despite his keen gaze, he could see nothing in the darkness all about them, and the only thing that illuminated the deep night was the lantern that hung beside the door of their cottage. Dyra had lit it before they had left that morning, and now, for some reason, Deacon was very glad she had done.

Even a little light was better than none at all.

Nonetheless, he still felt as though there were eyes upon them, and the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, warning him that they weren’t alone.

Jen shuddered and her heart thumped heavily against her chest.

“Deacon…” She whispered, her voice so quiet and terrified that he only just about heard her.

Her hands instinctively reached out and grasped at his arm, but when they found it, she could feel how tense he was, and that only consolidated her fears.

It took him a moment or two to reply.

“Come on…” He whispered in return, placing his arm around Jen and steering her protectively towards the lighted doorway.

Only then, already at the doorstep, did Dyra turn and realise that something was amiss.

“What’s wrong?” She asked them, her voice piercing the cold darkness as if she had yelled her question.

But they didn’t get chance to respond.

Suddenly a black figure lunged forward from the shadows, appearing from nowhere with huge, groping hands reaching out in the darkness.

Before she could get away, or even scream, horrible hands were upon Jen, clutching hungrily at her arm furthest from Deacon.

His grip was slimy and his fingers probing, leeching the very life from her just at the touch.

“It’s been a long time, Jenny…” His disgusting voice slithered through the dark of the night, reaching Jen’s ears and grating on them in a way that made her cringe and recoil from it.

The very sound of it made her physically sick to the stomach.

Time seemed to stand still.

But even as Jen tried to wretch, repulsed horribly, she let out a scream so despairing and desolate that she could have deafened a wailing banshee.

All three of them, Deacon, Dyra, and even the snake of a man clutching at her arm, winced and faltered at the ear-splitting, horrified sound.

Deacon was the first to react.

He had no idea what was going on, or who this man was, but he responded in the only way that seemed appropriate.

He doubled his hand into a fist, solid and unbreakable, and in a split second delivered a shattering blow across the man’s face. He may just have been a silhouette in the pitch black of the night, but it was still more than enough for Deacon to see, and the young man’s blow struck true.

The man in the shadows released his grip in an instant, and was sent reeling back into the gloom with a sharp, pained cry.

Jen’s arm, now freed, found Deacon in an instant, and clung to him desperately, but it wasn’t over, and he knew it.

He had to take control.

“Inside! Now!” He barked.

His voice was rough and his command firm, but it was on point, and the three of them piled immediately into Keepers cottage before the man, whoever he was, had a chance to recover.

Slamming the door behind him, Deacon whipped his gaze to the windows.

Dyra was panicking, darting all over the place.

Jen was terrified, silent and shaking.

“Windows! Back door! Check they’re all locked!” Deacon instructed with no time to waste, as he turned the key in the front door and locked it. “Now!!” He commanded, startling Dyra into action.

“Okay!” She obeyed instinctively, racing immediately around each of the windows and the back door on the ground floor, checking they were all secured.

She soon returned, breathless and flushed.

“All done!” She reported, but Deacon didn’t respond.

He was too focused on Jen.

She was sat on the bottom step of the stairs with her head buried in her hands, muttering continuously to herself, rocking slightly as she mumbled.

“Jen…” Deacon attempted, over and over. “Jen!” He pleaded, trying desperately to get her attention. “Please Jen…” He begged. “Talk to me! What’s going on!? Who is he!?”

But Jen didn’t answer, and she only hid herself deeper in her own hands, trying as best she could to just block it all out.

That’s all she’d been doing so far.

But you can’t escape the past.

“Get him away…” Jen whispered futilely into her own palms. “Get away. Get him away…” She repeated, over and over.

“Jen!” Deacon urged. “Who is he!?”

But then Deacon glanced up at Dyra, his eyes desperate, and he saw that she was ghostly white.

“Dyra?” He breathed then, knowing in an instant that she knew. “Who is he!?” Deacon pressed. “What’s going on!?”

“It can’t be…” She started, faltering almost immediately.

“Dyra!” Deacon snapped again, but it was instead Jen who answered.

She exploded up to her feet in a fit of panic and practically threw herself at Deacon.

“It’s him!!” She cried despairingly, her voice croaking and breaking with fright. “He’s back!! He’s waited all this time!! Now he wants me!!”

Collapsing to the floor in a shuddering, heaving wreck, Jen’s strength drained from her and her legs buckled, unable to hold her through fear alone.

“Who!?” Deacon begged.

“Oh my God…” Dyra whispered then, finally breaking from her trance.

“Dyra!!” Deacon cried, exasperated now. “What is it!?”

But Jen’s mother was immediately on the phone, panicking even more as she called through to the emergency number.

“Hello! Yes! The police! Officer Mahoney!” She answered suddenly, as the responder at the other end answered. “This is Dyra Williams! I’m Jennifer Williams’ mother!”

Deacon could do nothing but wait, holding Jen closely as she shook like a leaf, muttering to herself once again.

“Yes, that’s it!” Dyra suddenly said, her breaths and her words fast and sharp. “We need help! He’s here! He’s right outside! He’s just tried to take my daughter!!”

Suddenly Dyra hung up, as if she had cut the conversation off midway through. But as she rushed over to Jen, throwing her arms around her and sobbing aloud, she tried to talk through her tears.

“They’re coming! They’re coming, sweetheart! Don’t worry! They’re coming!”

But the cold, harsh reality of it all was dawning slowly upon Jen, and even as Deacon wrapped her up, still shaking in his arms, and she felt his strong heartbeat as she laid her head against his chest, she knew this was it.

She folded her arms up so her hands were by her shoulders, and his embrace seemed to envelope her completely, holding her closer than she ever thought was possible.

Her senses were returning to her now, very slowly, as her blind panic slipped away ever so slightly, though it could return at any moment.

She couldn’t believe it had come to this.

Clare had been right.

Even bloody Caroline had been right.

Tonight, whether she survived or not, Deacon would find out the truth.

There was a cruel, ravenous knock at the door, and the sound lingered in the air longingly, reaching out for what it hungered for so dreadfully.