Hide and Seek (11 page)

CHAPTER 23

16:42pm

Peter thought back to Cheryl again. What could he do to make sure she was safe? He wished he could contact Celo, or that Celo would ring again so he could ask him whether Cheryl would be safe. Despite the circumstances, Celo had seemed oddly reasonable and genuine at times, very different to the clichéd cackling, cold-hearted murderers he had seen in so many movies and read in so many novels. How could he get in touch with the hospital? Peter thought again about his current situation and cursed the fact that he had no money. He couldn’t ring from the mobile phone because Celo had blocked it somehow. Peter wondered if he could get through to the hospital via a phone box. He knew calls to 999 were free but could he be connected to a hospital for free? If he managed to get through would they even speak to him or tell him anything about Cheryl? He wondered if the police might have placed a security guard outside her room to protect her in case the murderer came back, or whether that was just something he had seen in the movies. Another dreadful thought entered his mind. This all might be a moot point; she was badly burnt over the majority of her body, she may have died from shock. Maybe the one person he thought he had saved hadn’t been saved at all. He had to find out if Cheryl was okay.

H
e had the notion to knock on one of the doors he passed and ask if he could use the phone. He could partly tell the truth: he really had lost his phone and wallet, and he needed to check if a friend was okay. Maybe he could even convince someone to give him a lift to the high street? He stopped and looked around. Was there anyone who he knew living nearby? A parent, a brother or sister of one of the Excellent Eight? He couldn’t think of anyone close enough, but dismissed the thought anyway. A parent or sibling might be aware of what was going on and give him up to the police.

Peter decided it had to be a stranger.
The more he thought about it, the better the idea seemed. Yet a slight doubt crept into his mind. Would this go against Celo’s ‘rules’? He tried to remember the exact words that Celo had used, but couldn’t. He could only recall that Celo said he wasn’t to involve anyone else in the game or it would be classed as an immediate default. If he didn’t tell the stranger then surely he wasn’t breaking the rules because he wasn’t involving them? Again, Peter felt the need to talk to Celo, to clarify the rules.

Ahead of him, a car pulled into the driveway of a semi detached house painted pristine white. Peter watched as a man and wom
an, who he assumed were husband and wife, got out of the vehicle. The tall slender woman moved towards the front door, opened it and went inside. The short stocky man moved to the back of the car and, opening the boot, started to unload as many bags as possible so he could make the least amount of trips. He managed to grab six heavy looking carrier bags and trotted - hunched over - into the house.

Peter
walked briskly towards the house, going over the story he would tell them in his head. He moved the mobile phone from the outer pocket of his jacket to an inside pocket against his chest and picked up the pace, mimicking the run of someone who is desperate. As he got to the driveway, the man was gathering more carrier bags - leaning into the deep boot of the Volvo like a magician placing his head in a lion’s mouth. The man heard Peter approaching and instinctively withdrew, and straightened up. Peter spoke first and put on his most humble, nervous sounding voice.

‘Hi, I’m really sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could help me.’

The man looked him up and down, surveying him cautiously.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ve just heard that a friend of mine has been taken into hospital.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the man replied courteously.

Peter continued, ‘I’ve lost my phone. I was wondering if you had a phone I could use to ring and see if she is alright.’

The man shuffled on the spot but responded warmly.

‘Sure, just a second.’

He closed the boot and walked towards his house.
He obviously didn’t trust him and maybe thought he was going to run off with his shopping hence why he had closed the boot of the car. But Peter reasoned that was understandable given the situation. The man leaned in through the front door and grabbed his jacket from a peg on the wall. He rummaged through the jacket pockets as he walked back towards Peter and pulled out a mobile phone.

‘Here you go.’

He handed the phone to Peter but stood extremely close. For a second, the idea of making a run for it did cross Peter’s mind - a working mobile phone would be a great help. However, he didn’t want to add petty theft to his list of possible crimes and, exhausted as he was, there was little chance such a manoeuvre would succeed. This guy looked in good shape. His arms looked like bodybuilders and his defined chest muscles could be seen through his tight t-shirt. Peter surmised that this man could easily catch him if he ran, and he would probably give him an extreme beating as well.

Peter smiled, ‘Thank you.’

He was unsure of how to contact the hospital.

‘I’ve never had to ring a hospital before. Do you know if you phone 999 or is there a local number?’

The man took the phone back off him and started tapping on the touch screen. Peter noticed the man’s wife milling around the entrance to the living room and she cautiously peered out and then walked into the hallway to stand at the door. Peter smiled shyly.

‘Hi.’

She smiled back courteously and looked at her husband.

‘Martin, what’s wrong?’

Without looking up from the phone he said, ‘I’m just helping this man.’

He
glanced up at Peter with a prompting expression.

‘
Sorry, Peter, my name’s Peter,’ he dutifully replied.

Martin continued, ‘One of Peter’s friends is in hospital
. He’s lost his phone so I’m trying to find a number to ring them.’

He paused and tilted the phone towards the sky as people do when they think that will help them get a signal.

‘Come on,’ he whispered impatiently. ‘There we go,’ he said as he tapped one last time on the touch screen before handing it back to Peter. ‘It’s ringing.’

Peter waited as the ringtone hummed in his ear before the crackle of someone picking up.
He heard the weary voice of a woman who was obviously near the end of a long shift.

‘Bilton General Hospital. How may I help?’

Peter knew that they wouldn’t give out any information if he said he was a friend so he lied.

‘Hello, I’m trying to find out about my sister, Cheryl Stimson.’

‘Please hold whilst I transfer you.’

Peter held on and looked up at Martin.

‘They’re just transferring me.’

He realised that Martin was looking at him strangely. The difference between Peter saying Cheryl was a friend and then saying she was his sister was obviously going through his mind. Another woman came onto the phone, sounding even wearier than the last.

‘Hello, Burns Department.’

‘Hello, I’m enquiring about a woman that’s just been brought in, Cheryl Stimson.’

‘Are you a relative?’

‘Yes, I’m her brother Peter.’

Peter listened as she explained that Cheryl was brought in about thirty minutes ago and gave him information which he already knew, she had suffered third degree burns to large parts of her body.

‘Is she stable?’ Peter asked.

The nurse replied in a non committal manner.

‘She
’s stable for now but we won’t know how she’s doing until she’s had time to recuperate.’

‘Is there anyone there with her?’

‘As far as I am aware her parents have been contacted and are on their way.’

Peter added, ‘Are the police watching her?’

The nurse hesitated, ‘Yes, there are policemen here.’

Peter felt a sense of relief.

‘Okay, thank you.’

He hung up and handed the phone back to Martin.

‘Thank you.’

Martin just smiled acceptingly. Peter felt he should explain himself.

‘She’s not really my sister. I just said that because I knew they wouldn’t give me any information if I said I was a friend. We’re basically like brother and sister.’

The
lie came surprisingly easily. Martin nodded his head as if he understood. Peter shuffled on the spot trying to think of how to ask Martin for a lift to the high street and more importantly why he would tell him he was going there instead of straight to the hospital. He was surprised when Martin, after giving a glance to his wife for approval, offered first.

‘Do you want a lift to the hospital?’

Peter smiled thankfully.

‘Actually, would you mind taking me to the high street? Her mother lives there
, I want to see if she’s alright. Apparently, her father and brother are on their way to the hospital now.’

Again, he was amazed at the convoluted storytelling
spilling easily from him, but Martin was convinced and nodded.

‘Sure, no problem.’

He put his jacket back on and made his way around the car to the driver’s side. He looked at his wife, who looked a little concerned, and gave her a reassuring smile.

‘I’ll be five minutes love.’

‘Okay,’ she replied simply but her expression said it all, he was to take care of himself with this stranger.

Peter caught the look and offered a smile to the wife as well, humbly bowing his head as he said, ‘Thank you.’

She smiled back with her hands crossed over her chest to protect herself from the encroaching cold. Martin reversed the car out of the drive and drove out of the street towards Hyde Avenue. Peter felt the need to thank him again, especially as he felt guilty for luring Martin into this situation under false pretences.

‘Thanks again for this.’

‘It’s no problem. I hope your friend’s alright. What happened?’ Martin asked and then added, ‘If you don’t mind me asking?’

‘I don’t really know.’

Peter tried to stick closely to the truth but not too much as to raise further questions. ‘She was attacked by a bunch of kids. She’s alright, just shaken up.’

‘Jesus, what is it with kids these days? No respect.’

Peter nodded as if in agreement but the sound of police sirens drew his attention. He glanced in the wing mirror and saw a police car coming up behind them. Martin slowed down, turned on his indicator and pulled into the side of the road almost coming to a stop. Peter cowered in his seat a little, tensed as the police car overtook them and sped off up Hyde Avenue. Martin turned off his indicator and moved back into the road.

‘There
’ve been a lot of sirens today. I heard quite a few earlier coming from over by the school.’

Peter knew where he meant, the flats near the school, after Colin had died.

Martin continued, ‘Is that anything to do with your friend?’

‘I don’t think so. She was attacked over Low Grange way.’

‘Alright, must have been something else. Not much of a lazy Sunday afternoon is it?’

‘No, it’s definitely not,’ Peter replied wistfully.

CHAPTER 24

16:51pm

The rest of the journey was taken in relative silence. As they approached the high street Martin asked where Peter would like dropping off.

‘Just at the bus depot would be fine.’

‘Are you sure? I can drop you off at the door, it’s no problem.’

‘No, the depot will be fine. I best get some money in case I need a taxi later.’

Martin didn’t argue, ‘Okay.’

The bus depot was a cobbled courtyard next to the indoor market just off the entrance to the middle of the high street. Peter knew it was also out of the sight of the police station. He didn’t want to go directly into the high street in case there were police roaming the streets.

Martin pulled up by the bus depot and Peter got out of the car. He leant on the door frame and looked in.

‘Thank you so much Martin,’ he said genuinely.

Martin smiled, ‘No problem, I hope your friend
’s okay.’

Peter smiled back, ‘Thanks,’ and closed the door.

He stood with his hands in his pockets as Martin reversed and gave him a wave as the car turned and headed away. Peter surveyed his surroundings. The bus depot was quiet, just four buses parked diagonally by the side of the building. In a normal town there would be some signs of limited activity on a Sunday afternoon but in the secluded town of Bilton everything closed down completely. He glanced at the mobile, 4:52pm. The toy store was around the corner and several buildings down the high street, roughly at the half way point between his current position and the police station. Peter could walk down Brunswick Street behind the high street and he would come to a small cut through road called Lodge Street which came out next to Chaser’s Toy Store. A brisk wind blew through the courtyard blowing litter and rustling leaves across the shiny pebbles. The orange sun was hanging at the bottom of a dark blue sky, starting its descent behind the horizon. At this time of the year he knew it would be dark in less than half an hour. He started to walk down Brunswick Street remembering the incident in the toy store from their childhood.

Every Saturday the five boys from the Excellent Eight would play five-a-side at the school with their rivals from the year above. The girls would either come along and cheer them on or meet up with them later as they walked into town to browse around the shops. The owner of the store, affectionately known as Old Man Chaser, would promote a different toy each week
in the front window. Occasionally it was something good. Peter remembered buying a walkie-talkie set that had worked surprisingly well between Peter’s and Cas’ houses. They used them to talk to each other at night from their bedrooms even though it was sometimes hard to hear each other as the sets distorted their voices. Peter still had his handset; buried somewhere in a memory box that he kept at home in the attic.

Celo’s clue related to an incident that occurred shortly before Bonfire Night. Old Man Chaser had
put a display of fireworks in the front window. Even though they were on offer the good fireworks were still too expensive for any of the Excellent Eight to afford. They considered pooling their money but that would only have bought them a few fountain candles and a box of fun snaps. So they decided to do what a lot of children do when they really want something they can’t have, steal them. The boys were all wearing T-shirts and shorts as they had come from the game of five-a-side so they had nowhere to hide the fireworks. Cheryl wasn’t wearing a jacket either and Laura had a tight fitting denim jacket with no inside pockets. It was decided between them that Michelle should be the carrier of the stolen goods as she was wearing a duffle coat with plenty of hidden compartments for concealing their bounty. She had been reluctant but with some persuasion from Colin, and additional peer pressure, Michelle agreed.

Peter, Cas, Gavin and Laura kept watch, strategically placing themselves throughout the shop like they were on a military assignment. Colin, Steve and Cheryl squeezed and pushed sky rockets and fountains into every available space within Michelle’s jacket. With hindsight Peter thought
how naïve they were, it couldn’t have been more obvious what they were doing. The awkward shapes of the fountains and the sheer amount they had put into her jacket made Michelle look like a tubby hedgehog. As she waddled down the stairs from the first floor towards the exit, four of the group walked in front and the remaining three followed behind her, all eyes darting to and fro nervously as if they were protecting the president. Old Man Chaser watched them come down the stairs, a stern look on his face, and came from behind the counter and approached the group. They picked up their pace, until one of Old Man Chaser’s assistants appeared from behind a display in front of them, leaping out like a villain in a horror movie, and blocked their passage to freedom.

The group were all hauled back to the counter by the smug assistant and the angry Old Man Chaser. In front of a gathering crowd of adults shaking their heads and a chorus of disapproving tuts Michelle was forced to publicly empty all the fireworks out of her jacket. Michelle and the other two girls started crying. The boys stood, heads held down, with their lips quivering
, fighting back tears. Old Man Chaser was furious, and kept viciously jabbing Michelle in the collar bone with his bony finger as he scolded her and threatened to tell her father what she had done. Michelle flinched and cried louder with every jab and Colin tensed and then flew at Old Man Chaser pushing him away from her.

‘Stop it, you bastard.’

He may have been an old man but he was sturdy and he merely shuffled on the spot as Colin pushed him before the assistant grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him back into Peter and Cas who caught him. Old Man Chaser’s eyes roved over the whole group, like a warden casting his eye over a line up of convicts.

‘Get out of my shop you little shits. And don’t ever come back in here or I will call your parents.’

Laura and Cheryl consoled Michelle as the Excellent Eight, not feeling so excellent, trudged through the middle of the parting crowd of adults and jeering children and left the store, never to return.

As Peter approached the cut through he considered what trap lay ahead for him. Colin had been flung out of a top storey window just like the gobstoppers they fired when they were younger. Cheryl was cooked in the oven like the cakes she’d eaten as a child. Peter dreaded to think what consequence stealing fireworks meant for Michelle.