The Deviants (29 page)

‘Yeah, we need to go,' said Corey, but he didn't move either.

I knelt down beside Pete and began freeing his hands. Max didn't try to stop me. He was still looking down at the water. The book, lying open, fluttered on a breeze I hadn't felt until that moment.

This was my eruption, and there was no way of stopping it. I told him everything I'd told Zane hours before. About the touching, how it had started,
when
it had started. About his mum's 50th. About the island. About Neil blaming me and calling me a deviant because I'd led him on, wearing dresses and swimming costumes. And about the miscarriage. Every word that came out of my mouth was a relief, an ache that didn't ache any more.

But now the ache was where I always feared it would go – it was all on Max.

He sat down on the bridge, holding the post close to his face like a teddy bear. ‘He called her a deviant too,' he said. ‘She wrote it about a thousand times on one of the pages in that book. All over it – Deviant Deviant Deviant.'

Without any warning, he got to his feet and ran down the other side of the bridge, pelting over to a thicket of trees where he threw up.

I left Pete untying his ankles and ran after Max. He was bent over, cowering in the long grass, retching and spitting.

‘I didn't lead him on, Max. I promise you.'

‘You didn't need to,' he said, spitting. ‘He worships you. Why didn't I see it?'

‘Because you didn't want to see it. And I didn't want you to, either.'

‘I always thought he wanted you, like, as a
daughter
.' He threw up again, then again, letting out a long groan afterwards like it was a relief. When he was done, his whole body hardened and he stood up but his knees buckled and he went down hard onto them, holding his head in his hands.

He wiped his mouth. ‘Did he… to Fallon?'

‘No.'

He looked as though he was going to hit me for a moment. As though he was seeing everything I'd told him, replaying in his mind like it had played again and again in mine for so long now. The rooms in his house where Neil had touched me or kissed me, for ever infected. In a way, I wanted him to hit me. He needed to take it out on someone. All my own lava-hot anger had left me now. I was hollow. There were only all the little fires to put out.

Or so I thought.

‘Fearless Five screwed this one right up, didn't they?' I said, attempting a laugh.

He shook his head. He looked like a little boy again in the early evening light. The boy who didn't want to leave Disneyland. The boy who ate too many sweets and threw up over the edge of the Pier. The little boy forced to sit at the dinner table until he'd eaten all his runner beans. I didn't know how to pull him back from this.

‘All this time… you've sat there, Sunday after Sunday, eating lunch at the same table. Sitting next to him. Christmas dinners. Parties. Barbecues. I made you go to… everything. I guilt-tripped you.'

‘I wanted to protect you from it. But I can't any more. Come on, Max. Let's go back to the farm. Let's go and talk it all through. Please.'

‘What are we gonna do, sit around and drink tea? I nearly killed a man tonight.'

‘Ssh, you didn't.'

He stopped. He seemed to be choking on his words. He just kept saying again and again, ‘Not my Ella. Not my Ella.'

‘Max, don't. It's OK, I'm here, I'm here now, it's over.'

‘No, it's not! I wanna kill him! Look what he did to you. He's my
dad
. Oh-fuuuuuuck!' He slammed his head into his palms again and again.

‘Come on,' I said, reaching for his hand. And eventually, in his own time, when his breathing was under control, he took it, and we got up and started to walk.

*

Corey drove Max's car back to the farmhouse – he'd parked it at an angle in the old dumping ground through the trees
that had once been for tourist parking. None of us said one word the whole journey – even the baby was quiet.

The farmhouse had changed since we were last there. It was much tidier – a few of the animal cages had been cleared out so there was a clear run to the lean-to door now. All the old broken buckets and watering cans and empty paint tins had gone and, in the kitchen, the corners were cobweb free and all the cupboards had been scrubbed clean. Where the stacks of old newspapers used to be were now clear stacking boxes of baby equipment and drawers labelled ‘Sterilising Fluid', ‘Dummies' and ‘Muslin Cloths'. There were a couple of new rugs on the living room carpet and a clean white throw on the back of the sofa. There was even a vase of fresh flowers on the end of the kitchen counter.

As we sat in the farmhouse living room, waiting for the new kettle to boil, an image of meek little Jo Rittman flashed into my mind. How quiet she was when Neil was around. How she always looked as though she was on the verge of tears whenever she said anything. Max always said the permanent shadow in her eyes was grief. Now we knew it was guilt.

‘God, what a night,' said Pete, shoving a tabby out of the armchair so he could sit down.

‘Are you OK?' I asked him, shivering. I'd given Pete my hoody to warm him up. It turned out Max had pounced on him while he was out jogging, bundling him into the back of his car before driving him to the Witch's Pond. It had been a warm day, but it was turning into a cool and blustery night.

‘Who wants coffee, who wants tea?' Corey called out from the kitchenette.

‘Just do four mugs of hot and sweet,' said Pete, getting
up and going to the sideboard. ‘I need something stronger.' He pulled out a bottle of Acid Rain and undid the cap, knocking it back. His face was a picture.

I asked him again. ‘Are you sure you're all right though?'

He looked across at Max. ‘I have no idea, Ella. I don't know whether to punch him or hug him. Apart from that, tickety-boo.'

Max was sitting on the sofa, looking into nothing. He has tears in his eyes but he wasn't speaking, his mind obviously playing a rerun of the evening's events. I wanted to hold him but I thought he wouldn't want me to, so I stayed where I was on the footstool.

Upstairs with Fallon, the baby was still crying too. We heard the baby Nirvana CD go on in the distance, and eventually she stopped.

‘She knows something's wrong,' said Corey, sitting on a space beside the fireplace. ‘She knows we're not happy.' The kettle started boiling then clicked off.

‘She's probably hungry, isn't she?' I said.

‘Oh yeah, that too,' he said, his face reddening. He got up to finish the tea.

I couldn't even guess at what was going through Pete's head.

‘You can go Pete, if you want,' I said to him, quietly, like I was in a library. ‘We can call you a taxi or something.'

Pete laughed, although his face didn't join in. ‘Grand. I can be home just in time for the
EastEnders
repeat.'

‘Are you going to go to the police?' asked Fallon, appearing in the doorway.

‘God knows.' He looked across at Max again. ‘I don't
think
he's psychopathic, but I dread to think how tonight could have ended up.' He looked across at me. ‘Secrets, Ella. This is what secrets do.'

Corey brought over the teas on a tin tray, which turned out to be an upturned hubcap. He settled it down on the hearth and offered us one each.

‘I'm sorry,' said Max, his whole body trembling.

‘Sorry?' Pete laughed. ‘You knock me out, tie me up, lock me in the boot of a car, drag me to a remote lake and tell me you're going to drown me and you're
sorry
?'

‘I don't know what else to say.'

Fallon had found Pete a checked shirt from the clothes horse in the outhouse. She gave it to him, and Pete put it on over his T-shirt.

‘I'll start a fire,' said Corey, reaching for one of the brass pokers and the box of matches, and started stoking it up. ‘Warm us all up a bit.'

‘Good idea,' said Fallon, spooning sugars into each mug. ‘The wood's in the basket there, and you can shred some of that newspaper.'

The whole atmosphere of the room felt like we'd all just watched someone die. No one knew what to say next. It was all mugs of tea and uneasy glances. Apart from the crackling fire, the only other sound in the room was Max's occasional sobs or Pete's lips smacking against the lip of his bottle.

We heard the heavy grinding sound of a truck in the lane outside the window.

‘That'll be Mum,' said Fallon.

The cut on Pete's eyebrow was bleeding again where Max had whacked him. He dabbed at it with the sleeve of the shirt. ‘I don't suppose you have a first aid kit, do you?'

She pointed towards the door. ‘Downstairs cloakroom. Straight across the yard, green door. There's plasters and cotton wool in the cabinet.'

Max looked up at Pete as he crossed the room in front of
him. ‘If you wanna go to the police, I'll take whatever you wanna throw at me. I don't care.'

Pete turned to him. ‘I think you've got enough to deal with at the moment, don't you?' And he left.

‘I'll just go and see Mum and check on the baby,' said Fallon. She left too, leaving just the three of us.

‘So what are we going to do now?' asked Corey.

My tea was too hot and kept burning my mouth. ‘What do you want to do, Max?'

He shook his head.

‘I think we should just go straight to the police,' said Corey. ‘Tell them everything we know about Neil. We'll all back each other up, won't we? I mean, we've got evidence now. They're not going to be able to ignore that, are they?'

‘It's not that easy,' I said. ‘This is going to change everything. Especially for Max.'

‘Don't worry about me,' said Max. ‘This isn't about me, it's about you. And Jess.'

‘It's your name though, Max. Everything that happens to him will ricochet back at you. I don't want that to happen.'

‘Can't see how you're gonna stop it,' he mumbled. ‘I can't handle this.' He got up from the sofa and started walking out of the room, just as Fallon returned, yawning.

‘Where are you going?' she asked.

‘A smoke,' he snapped. ‘Don't follow me.' He vanished through the wooden door, slamming it behind him and making the menagerie out in the lean-to squawk and flutter.

Fallon sat down gingerly on the sofa next to Corey. ‘He's not doing very well, is he?'

Pete returned from the cloakroom, a small wodge of tissue clumped against his eyebrow. He picked up a brass poker and started stoking the fire. ‘Where's he gone?'

‘For a cigarette,' said Corey. ‘I think he just needed to get out of here for a bit.'

‘He's seriously lost it. What the hell is that kid on?'

‘Skunk,' said Corey. ‘He never used to get this angry about anything.'

‘What did you expect?' I said bitterly. ‘How did you expect him to be? This is why I've kept it in for so long – I knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. He
worships
that man.'

‘He worships you too,' said Corey. He blinked across at Pete. ‘How would
you
feel?'

Pete drained the dregs of the Acid Rain bottle without answering. Fallon got up to get him another one, but he shook his head.

‘How's the baby?' Corey asked.

‘She's fine. Mum's doing “Lithium” with her,' said Fallon.

‘What?' said Pete.

‘It's a song,' I said quietly. Pete rolled his eyes and shook his head, like he was hoping to wake up at any second.

Max was gone ages. It didn't occur to me until Corey had poured us all out another mug of tea, and I noticed Max hadn't touched his original mug.

‘He said he's going to kill his dad,' I said. ‘His eyes were all dark.'

‘That's just something people say though, isn't it?' said Corey.

‘Usually,' said Fallon, holding my stare.

‘I'm going to see where he is,' I announced, getting up and making for the door. ‘Max?' I nudged the front door slightly and opened it. The security light
ping
ed on.

‘Max?' I called out again. Nothing, and no one in either direction.

I ran back into the lounge.

‘Did he come back in?' I said, breathlessly. ‘Did Max come back in?'

‘No,' said Pete, getting up. ‘Why?'

‘He's not outside. And his car's gone.'

‘How did you get back to the house with Max's car gone?'

25

Several Things Happen

R
osie had a Jeep in the garage next door, caked in mud and badly rusted up all over – but, by some miracle, it still went. Pete drove. I told Fallon and Corey to wait at the farm, but neither of them would listen. Fallon had expressed milk earlier so the baby would be all right without her for an hour or so and Rosie was staying with her, so they were coming with us – end of story.

I don't remember much about the journey, other than the fact that the floor of the Jeep was thick with hay and clumps of dry mud, and every so often it buckarooed for no apparent reason. I was terrified the Jeep would break down. That was my biggest fear – that we wouldn't get there in time. That we wouldn't reach Max, and he'd lose the last rag of control and do to his dad what he would have done to Pete. It was unthinkable.

As we turned into Upper Dunes Close, I could see the lights were on in JoNeille, and that the gates were open. Pete parked up outside, and I jumped out and ran to the front door. A warm, sandy wind blew against my face as I looked for signs of movement behind the kitchen blind.

‘I can't see anyone moving about,' I called back.

‘Maybe he's done it?' said Corey. ‘Maybe it's already happened?'

‘Corey, for God's sake!'

‘That's not helping, OK?' said Pete, shoving the keys to the Jeep in his pocket. ‘Why don't you two go back and wait in the car? We'll go and see what's happening.'