High Moor (27 page)

Billy picked up his beer and took another mouthful. “Is that it? Everybody thought there was something more…interesting going on.”

John smiled. “Sorry to disappoint. The truth hardly ever lives up to the stories, I’m afraid. You see that all the time in my line of work. You spend weeks chasing down a lead, only to find that it’s a lot of bollocks. So, what about you, Malcolm? What happened last month?”

Simon sniggered. “Yeah, Mal. Seeing as we’re on the subject of bollocks.”

Malcolm’s face flushed, but he didn’t rise to the taunt. “Not here. Too many nosey bastards listening in. Come on, we’ll go outside. I need a smoke anyway.”

Malcolm, Billy, Simon and Lawrence downed the remainder of their pints and got to their feet. John put his half full glass down on the table and started to stand.

“You not finishing that?” said Simon. “Fucking waste of a good pint, especially considering how much the bastards in here charge.”

John shrugged and finished the rest of his beer, then stood up. He immediately wished that he hadn’t. The room span for a second, and he had to grab the table to steady himself. He didn’t drink often, and he never did to excess. Two glasses of wine and a pint of lager seemed to be his limit. He took a deep breath, and when he was happy that he retained at least some basic motor function, he followed the others out of the busy pub.

The cold hit him like a hammer, although the others didn’t seem to notice. He'd forgotten how bitter the wind could be in North East England. The climate of his Welsh mountain home seemed mild by comparison. The cold was like a living thing, biting his flesh and penetrating his clothing. He opened his mouth to comment on it, when Billy and Lawrence grabbed his arms, while Simon grabbed him from behind, and forced his arm across his throat in a choke hold.

“What the hell?”

Malcolm stood before him, all pretence at friendship gone from his beady eyes. “Do you have any fucking idea, John, how long we’ve been waiting for you to show your face around here?”

John struggled to catch his breath and cast a beseeching look at the bouncer, standing just inside the doorway. The man smiled and closed the door. Somewhere within his mind, his other half growled as it awoke. He pushed it deep down inside. “What the fuck’s going on? What did I ever do to you?”

Malcolm’s red face turned a deeper shade of scarlet. “What did you do? You hear this, lads? What did he do? I’ll tell you what you did, John.” Malcolm’s fist flashed out and struck John in his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. “You ruined our fucking lives, is what you did. You and that gobshite friend of yours, and his little slag of a sister. You remember now? Setting us up with that school thing? We did five years in Borstal for that, and when we came out, no one would give us any kind of job worth a shit.”

John struggled to breathe. The growl within turned into a snarl as his beast reacted to the assault. He lifted his head to look at Malcolm and for a moment, the feral look on his face caused the other man to take a step backwards. “If I remember right, it was you fucking geniuses that burned the school down. I didn’t give you the matches, or the pot, or the vodka. You fucked up your lives all by yourself.”

Malcolm’s fist lashed out again, and connected with John’s mouth. His upper lip burst under the impact, shredding against his teeth. Malcolm shook his fist and stepped up close. “That’s right, you clever bastard. But you were the ones that lured us there. You were the ones that called the police.” Malcolm’s knee came up and struck John in the stomach. The air was forced from his lungs and he sagged against the grip of Billy, Simon and Lawrence.

John tried to focus, using every scrap of willpower to keep his beast in check. The monster inside him raged against the brick walls in his mind. He could imagine darting forward and clamping his teeth onto Malcolm's throat, feel the hard lump of the other man’s Adam’s apple crunch beneath his teeth. The taste of hot salty blood in his mouth and the satisfaction as the prize was swallowed. He struggled to regain control, knowing that it was all but useless. He was losing it.

Malcolm leaned in close. Close enough for John to smell the foul stench of his halitosis. “You got something to say, fuck-flaps? “

John could feel himself slipping away. The alcohol had been a big mistake. It weakened the walls he'd spent decades constructing, and the beast was throwing itself against them. He imagined cracks starting to appear. In moments it would be free. “For Christ’s sake, Malcolm. We were bloody children and it was almost thirty years ago. What the fuck is your problem?”

“What’s my problem? Right now, my problem is you. I’m going to sort that out right now. You’re going to leave here in an ambulance, you wanker. I’m going to make sure you never walk again.”

A female voice called out from over Malcolm’s shoulder. “Malcolm? Malcolm Harrison?”

Malcolm paused and turned his head. A bright red pointed shoe appeared between his legs, followed by the sickening thwack of leather meeting testicles. His eyes crossed and he slumped to the ground.

A tall woman with light brown hair stood behind him. She spat on his prone form. “Even after all these years, you’re still a fucking twat.”

The beast raged within John, giving him new strength. He flung Billy and Lawrence away as if they were children, and slammed his head back into Simon’s nose, which shattered under the impact.

The woman winked at him and held out her hand. When she spoke, it was with a bad, fake Austrian accent. “Come with me if you want to live.”

John couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The woman standing before him was Marie.

31st October 2008. High Moor Town Centre. 21.55.

John and Marie ran down the alley between the pub and the shopping precinct, out into the car park. Without breaking stride, they reached the edge and leaped over the low brick wall that separated it from the road, then turned the corner onto the high street and left their pursuers far behind. Lawrence and Billy gave chase for a couple of minutes before they gave up and stood yelling breathless threats.

They ran for another two-hundred yards, then stopped to catch their breath. John checked the street, but there was no sign of Lawrence and Billy. Malcolm and Simon were in no state to follow. He turned to look at Marie. When John had last seen her, she’d been an eight-year-old girl, crying at the window. The woman beside him was almost unrecognisable. Only the colour of her hair, the slight tilt of her nose, and the mischievous twinkle in her green eyes remained of the little girl from so many years before. She was tall, maybe five foot ten, slim, and wore a short, black evening dress. Gooseflesh prickled across her arms.

John took his coat off and handed it to her. “Here, you must be freezing.”

Marie shook her head. “No, you’re alright. You know what it’s like around here. People catch you wearing a jacket on a Friday night and they’ll start to think you’re a southerner.”

John laughed. “Marie? It is you, right?”

She smiled. “Got it in one. I recognised you as soon as I saw you. That was Malcolm Harrison and his little friends trying to re-live the good old days wasn’t it? What did you do to piss them off?”

“Seems like they’ve been holding a grudge over that whole burning school thing, back in the day. I could have handled it.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, right. Whatever you say. Are you OK? You’ve got blood all over you.”

John wiped his face. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut, and it’s clotted over now. Anyway, enough of that. I can’t believe it’s you. How the hell are you? It’s been how many years?”

“More than I care to remember. I’m alright, though. Life didn’t turn out quite the way I expected, but it’s all good.”

“How do you mean?”

Marie rubbed her arms. “Listen, John. We could stand here, in the middle of the street, freezing to death, or we could go and grab something to eat, a couple more drinks, and talk in the warm. What do you say? Wanna take a girl out to dinner?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course. Where should we go? Is anywhere around here even going to be serving food at this time of night?”

Marie grinned. “Don’t worry. I know just the place.”

***

The Monsoon Indian restaurant was just around the corner. John opened the door for Marie, and was enveloped in a blanket of warmth laden with the scent of exotic spices. Only one other couple sat in the window, waiting for their empty plates to be taken away. A waiter tried to seat John and Marie next to them, but Marie insisted on a table at the back, well away from the window.

The restaurant was decorated with red flock wallpaper and complex pieces of Indian parchment artwork. An ornamental fish tank, filled with tropical fish stood in the centre of the room. When John walked past it, the fish darted to the other side of the tank and bashed themselves against the glass. John hoped no one had noticed.

The waiter showed them to their table and passed them a menu. “Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

Marie settled into her seat. “Yeah, I’ll have a pint of Kingfisher and a bottle of…what’s your house red like?”

“The house red is very good.” He turned to John. “And for you, sir?”

“Just a glass of water and a black coffee for me, please.”

Marie raised her eyebrow. “You not drinking?”

“No. I think I’ve had enough for tonight. Don’t mind me.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips tightened over her teeth. “You trying to get me drunk?”

John felt his cheeks flush. “Oh, God, no. Nothing like that. I meant…”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, John. I’m just messing about. So, what we having?”

He looked at the menu, perplexed. “I have no idea what any of these things are. This is my first time in one of these places.”

“Seriously? You’ve never had a curry before? Oh, you have no idea what you’ve been missing. How can you get to your age and never have an Indian?”

He shrugged and looked embarrassed. “I suppose I’m not much of a restaurant person.”

“You don’t get out much then? What’s she like?”

John looked confused. “What’s who like?”

“The woman who keeps you locked inside? She must be doing something right.”

He shook his head. “No, there’s no one. I just don’t get out much.”

“Well, this is going to be a new experience for you. Are you a veggie?”

“No, far from it.”

“Good. How hungry are you?”

John hadn't realised before, but he was starving. Their close escape had sent his metabolism into overdrive, and the meal he’d eaten not two hours before was a distant memory. “I could eat a bloody horse.”

She raised her hand. “Alright, mate? We’re ready to order.”

The waiter made his way to the table and took out his pad and pen. “Yes, madam?”

“Two chicken madras, two pilau rice, one sag aloo, one aloo gobi, two keema naan’s, and some poppadoms.”

“Thank you. Is there anything else?”

Marie looked across at John and smiled. “Yeah, better bring a jug of water instead of a glass for my friend.”

The waiter smiled out of the corner of his mouth and took the menus. “Very good. Would you like ice in the water?”

Marie nodded and the waiter disappeared into the kitchen. Then she turned back to John. “So, where the hell did you disappear to all those years ago?”

John looked at the table. “I wasn’t given much choice, Marie. My parents made the decision that we were moving to my grandparents' house and that was it. We packed up and went. I wanted to say goodbye, but they didn’t let me. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“Do you have any idea how I felt back then? I was crushed. I lost the three most important people to me inside of a couple of months. Two of them within twenty-four hours of each other. It tore me apart.”

“I don’t know what to say. I didn’t want to go, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it.”

Marie flicked her hair out from her eyes. “Pff, you could have at least written. Or looked me up on bloody Facebook for that matter.” She looked at John’s guilt-ridden face and chuckled. “Don’t worry about it, John. I’ve wanted to have that rant for more than twenty years. It’s out of my system now, I promise. So, come on then, tell me about what you’ve been up to for the last couple of decades.”

John relaxed a little and took a sip from his water. “There’s not much to tell. I lived at my grandparents' house until I was seventeen, and when my parents died I moved around a lot. Did some travelling in Europe and eventually settled in Wales. I’d invested the life insurance in some properties before I left. When the house prices went crazy I sold them off and had enough to clear my own mortgage and set myself up a small business designing websites. That’s about it. How about you? You still living here then?”

Marie took a sip from her pint and wiped the froth from her lips. “Only for the last few months. My mother’s been in a care home for years, and she got ill a while back, so I took a leave of absence from work and came back to be with her. Dad’s been dead since I was thirteen, and there just wasn’t anyone else.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is she going to be alright?”

Marie shook her head. “She passed away a couple of weeks ago. I’ve just been sorting out her affairs since then. It’s a horrible thing to say, but in some ways it’s a relief. She didn’t really know anyone was there towards the end. Her mind had been gone for a long time. The only thing left of my mother was her shell, carrying on because it didn’t know any better. It’s strange and sad really. I’m the last member of my family, and I’m a girl. The family name dies out with me.” She took a long drink of her beer and looked up at John with an apologetic smile. “God, this is depressing. Can we change the subject?”