Mesmeris (20 page)

‘Luke!’ Mum called from downstairs.

Dad jumped to his feet and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He opened the door and stuck his head out. ‘Two minutes, darling.’ He shut the door, leaned back against it and closed his eyes for a moment. I watched him breathe, watched his muscles relax. ‘If it’s true,’ he said, at last, ‘this story he’s told you – and it almost certainly isn’t. They’re consummate liars . . .’

‘It
is
true.’

Dad held his hand up to stop me. ‘I’ll check his story and then we’ll see. Until then, you’re not to see him. Is that understood?’

Not see him? Impossible
. ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But his real name’s John – John Armytage Cooper.’

‘Even if his story
is
true and I agree to help him, he has to want to do it –
Does
he want to?’

I nodded.

‘And he knows the possible consequences?’

I stared at him. Andrew hadn’t mentioned any consequences.

‘The exorcism – he knows he’ll have to relive everything?’ he said. ‘It’s pretty traumatic.’

Jack’s horror as he remembered his abduction came back to me. The exorcism would be more of that. Would he be able to take it?

‘Call him.’ Dad said. ‘And you’d better tell him I’ve never performed an exorcism before. I only know the theory.’

‘Dad,’ my eyes welled up with tears, ‘what if he loses his mind? I couldn’t . . .’ My voice broke.

‘I’ll do my best,’ he said. ‘Someone’s coming to help with Jim’s inquiry. A young priest. Maybe he can help us – I don’t know. We’ll have to move quickly. Jim’s onto him and once the police have him, we won’t get a chance.’

‘I know, Dad.’

‘Even if we succeed,’ Dad said. ‘He’ll still have to answer for his crimes. Don’t think there’s any easy way out of this.’

‘I don’t, but I’m scared.’

He sat next to me, hugged me and I wept on his shoulder just as Jack had done on mine. The rough wool of his cassock against my cheek, the familiar smell of soap and candles and incense, reminded me of when I was a child. But not even Dad could make this better. No one could.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I slept, drifted in and out of consciousness with only one thing on my mind, the dreaded conversation with Jack. Whatever happened, whatever he decided, I was going to lose him – for months, for years, maybe forever.

As soon as the sky began to lighten, I slid out of bed, crept through the silent house and out into the back garden. Heavy dew covered the lawn like frost, silver in the grey dawn light. It soaked through my slippers, seeped into the hem of my dressing gown.

I pressed Jack’s number into my phone. One ring and he answered. ‘What’s up?’

‘I need to see you.’

A pause. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Just get here.’

I heard him move against the phone, imagined him getting out of bed, naked.

‘I’ll be ten minutes,’ he said.

‘Okay.’ I fell to my knees on the sodden grass and rocked back and forth and howled, silently, at the sky. Then, I wiped my tears and went back inside. Five minutes later, dressed, teeth cleaned, hair brushed, I was pacing up and down outside the house.

A different car this time – dirty white, tatty, fitting. Inside smelled of damp and fags.

‘It’s not six o’clock yet,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong?’

I shook my head. I couldn’t speak so turned away and looked out of the window. He drove. I didn’t ask where, didn’t care. We parked in a clearing in a forest and got out of the car. Empty picnic tables stood, soaked with dew. Birds sang out a deafening dawn chorus as wisps of cloud drifted through the trees. He lit a cigarette.

‘You don’t smoke,’ I said.

‘I know.’

In silence we watched a watery sun break through, watched the blackbirds tug worms out of the ground as he dragged on the cigarette, took huge lungfuls, the noxious fumes drifting away to join the mist.

‘So?’ He stubbed the butt out with his shoe.

‘My dad knows.’

He nodded. ‘Right.’ He lit another cigarette, pulled deeply on it, examined it. ‘Hate these fucking things.’

‘You don’t swear either,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Well, everything’s changed now, hasn’t it?’ He flung the cigarette away. It hissed as it hit the wet grass. He leaned back on the car and looked at the sky. ‘So, what do we do?’

‘He says Jim’s close to getting you.’

‘Pretty much worked that out.’

‘Dad says he can help you.’

A bitter, short laugh. ‘Yeah, right.’

‘He can get them out of your head.’

He watched me - wary, narrowed eyes.

‘He can free you – get you away from them, from Papa.’

His mouth hacked a cynical laugh, and yet his eyes held something, a flicker of hope.

It was the faltering hope that did it, that started my tears. The corners of my mouth dragged down. ‘It’s dangerous – traumatic.’

‘What is - exactly?’

‘The exorcism.’

A short bark of a laugh and then, for an instant, his face crumpled and I saw him, the real him. A fleeting glimpse and he regained control, forced a smile. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s go for it.’

‘I’m scared.’

‘Me too,’ he said, ‘but if we don’t, I’ll still keep doing - stuff that would make you throw up, make you pass out.’ His face looked grey in the dawn light, pinched from the cold, as bleak and lifeless as a corpse.

‘We’ve had no time,’ I said. ‘No time together. It’s so unfair.’

‘We could always run away.’

Run away? Why hadn’t I thought of that?
‘Yes – yes, let’s run away.’

A flicker of a smile came and went. ‘I don’t know. They’re inside my head, inside my scar. Every night, they . . .’

How could I have forgotten about the fever, the agony? Mind control, Andrew said, nothing more
. ‘If it’s too bad, we’ll come back.’

He half-smiled. ‘I guess. We can try. But we can’t delay it for long – the exorcism - not with your uncle after me.’

‘Just a little while then,’ I said, ‘like a . . .’ I was going to say honeymoon but stopped myself in time.

‘Holiday?’ he said.

‘Yes – yes, holiday.’

His smile made me smile.

‘I’ll talk to your dad tomorrow,’ he said, ‘say we just need a couple of days. By the time he realises, we’ll be out of the country.’

A picture of Dad’s face appeared in front of me, of those tears falling down his face, hanging on his black cassock. I pushed it away. He’d understand when we explained.

‘I’d better get back,’ I said, ‘before they notice I’m missing.’

As we got back in the car, the pale sun disappeared behind a bank of grey cloud but I felt elated. It wasn’t the end, after all, not yet anyway. We could have weeks together – months, years even, if the fevers eased off. Once we were far away, maybe it would stop happening altogether. We could go somewhere warm and sunny, go anywhere that didn’t have an extradition treaty with Britain.

‘You know,’ he said, ‘even when it comes to it, I may be okay with the exorcism. It may not be that bad.’

‘It’ll be fine,’ I said, and smiled because I wanted to believe it, because I wanted him to believe it. And I didn’t want to think about what would come afterwards – a trial, prison.

‘You’ll still come over tonight?’ he said.

Dad’s words popped into my head -
You’re not to see him. Is that understood
?

‘Try stopping me,’ I said.

We were back home before half seven. I heard the shower going and the radio on in the kitchen but made it to my room without seeing anyone. I waited until Dad left the house before going downstairs. I didn’t want to see his face, knowing he’d look tired and old, knowing he hadn’t slept.

As soon as Lydia dashed into school to see her mates, I doubled back and caught a bus to the shopping centre. I withdrew all the money I had left over from my birthday and headed for the biggest department store in town. Every time a frightening thought entered my head, I pushed it away. We were starting a new life. We were going to be together. I wanted something fabulous, something that would make me feel better, make me forget everything except the night to come - a whole night with Jack. When he saw me, I wanted him to feel how I felt every single time I saw his face. I headed for the lingerie department,
for the expensive section. And there I found it – just what I was looking for - a flimsy, delicate, blue silk slip, dusty indigo with a darker lace trim. I checked the price. Just about all the money I had. I checked the label – 100% pure silk. I took it into the changing room.

It was so lovely. It even smelled expensive. I pulled it over my head and it fell like a waterfall over me. I half-hoped it would look awful. It didn’t. It fitted perfectly. It made my eyes bluer than usual, my pale skin healthier, even made me look as if I had some curves.

I didn’t hesitate. Five minutes later, it was safely hidden in my bag, carefully wrapped in tissue paper inside a little cardboard box tied with blue ribbon.

As I left the till, I saw a girl reflected in the full-length mirror. She was looking through a rail of nightdresses behind me. There was something familiar about her short, spiky black hair, her tiny waist, the way she moved. She had her back to me but I knew. Lill. I slid around the mirror and forced myself to breathe. I took my phone out of my bag. A gaggle of thirty-something overweight women cackled as they admired the stand of red and black, tacky sleazewear. I moved around them, tried to keep them between Lill and me. I rang Jack.

‘Lill’s here,’ I said, as soon as he answered.

‘What? Where?’

‘Pope’s – in the lingerie section.’

‘Has she seen you?’

‘Don’t think so.’ My voice went up an octave. ‘What shall I do?’

‘Don’t panic. You’ll be fine. I’ll be there in five minutes, okay? Just stay where there are people.’

‘Okay.’ I shut my phone.

‘Pearl?’

‘Mum!’

She stared at me. ‘What’re you doing here? Why aren’t you in school?’

‘I . . .’

Mum moved into my eye line. ‘What’re you looking at?’

‘Nothing.’ I tried to see around her. The gaggle of middle-aged women blocked my view.

‘What’s the matter with you?’ Mum said.

‘I . . .’ I looked back at the rail of nightdresses. Lill had gone. I looked all around but couldn’t see her. ‘Shit!’

‘Pardon?’ Mum said.

‘Sorry, Mum – sorry. Um . . .’ I couldn’t think of anything at all to say because my brain was fully occupied looking for Lill. Then I saw her. She stood by the window and smiled at me with those toxic eyes. Jack’s face appeared behind her, just for a moment. Then her head smacked into the window and she dropped to the floor with a thud. Someone screamed.

‘What on earth? Oh my!’ Mum rushed over to help. ‘Get an ambulance,’ she shouted back at me.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Jack said, in my ear.

I went to run. He stopped me. ‘Walk, okay? Look at the clothes.’ He took a pair of red and black frilly knickers from the rail and tilted his head.

‘No,’ I said, looking around for security guards, terrified someone would stop us.

Jack grinned and put the knickers back. Grinned, like he was having fun. If it was an act, it was a damned good one. My nerves were jangling. Every now and then, on the way to the escalator, Jack would hold out the most disgusting underwear possible and smile at me,
eyebrows raised. I stared back at him, not understanding. He laughed, then leaned towards me and whispered in my ear. ‘You want to get out of here, right?’

I nodded.

‘Then make an effort.’

‘Sorry.’ I licked my lips, tried a wobbly smile, pretended to look at the stuff he held up.

Two paramedics rushed past us. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t have looked to my right. And if I hadn’t looked to my right, I wouldn’t have seen through the open door to the store room and I would never have seen Dan – dangling from the ventilation shaft, eyes staring, mouth open in a silent scream, as blood dripped onto the floor beneath.

‘Don’t look.’ Jack took my arm, a fixed smile on his face. ‘And don’t scream. Please don’t scream.’

We made it out of the shop somehow, stood in the street and waited. Then we heard the screams. And we walked away, arm in arm, as though everything was fine.

‘Papa must have put an order out,’ Jack said. ‘That means we have to leave tonight, before the others come looking.’

I nodded.

‘Go home. Pack a bag, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘The lads are going out about six. Come to the flat then. Don’t say anything – to anyone.’ He kissed me. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find somewhere safe.’

Somewhere safe – as if there was any such place.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The house was empty when I got back, eerily quiet. I paused inside the door – blessed silence. Fear left me incapable of functioning properly. I packed, unpacked, re-packed my bag at least ten times before I was satisfied it contained everything I’d need. What if they knew where I lived? I peered out at the street – no one. Jack said it would take them days to find us, by which time we’d be gone – and he should know.

Ten times, I unzipped the side pocket to check it still held my passport. More than ten times, I went to the loo. In between, I paced back and forth in my room. Each time I reached the mirror, I stared at my reflection and asked if it was really going to do this. It said yes. It smiled, the sort of smile that made my jaw ache, that reached my ears. Each time I came to the window, I checked there was no one lurking in the garden. Everything would be all right soon. Jack said so. It would be just me and him and we’d forget all the bad stuff and be happy.

Four hours left. How to fill them. I turned the radio on and sat on the bed. I tapped my feet to the music, bit my nails, and turned the radio off. I found a photo of me, Lydia, Mum and Dad on holiday in Cornwall - my favourite because we were all happy, all laughing at something Lydia said. I tucked it into my bag, next to the passport.

I went downstairs and made a cup of tea, spilt the milk all over the worktop. Two sugars – for energy – in a crisis – like this one. Three and a half hours to go.

I poked my head out of the bedroom door. Still no sign of anybody. I ran a bath, washed my hair, somehow managed to get shampoo in my eye. It stung like bloody hell. I dried my hair, straightened it, burned my hand, the top of my ear, dropped the straighteners and burned my leg.