The Well (35 page)

There was a sharp
crack!
against her window. Not loud, but clearly audible in the quiet morning. In a moment of déjà vu, Hannah realised that this was the same sound that had woken her moments before. Instantly awake, she swung her legs out of bed, then paused.

What if – what if it’s
him
? Her heart skipped a beat and it felt as though her stomach had turned over.
I’ll scream
, she decided.
There’s a policewoman downstairs. If he’s outside, I’m safe.

Hannah padded slowly to the window. Carefully, she peeked through a crack in the curtains.

Standing on the lawn was a vaguely familiar young girl with blonde hair, dressed ready for school. She had a finger to her lips in a mime gesture:
shush
.

Hannah looked again at the clock, thinking she had misread it – and then her eyes went back to the girl, trying to place from where she knew her. School, maybe – or someone’s sister, although Hannah didn’t think she knew anyone from the primary school – and then another thought bubbled to the surface.
It’s the girl I saw just before falling asleep
, she thought. Bizarrely, as Hannah realised this, the girl put two thumbs up, as though she knew what Hannah was thinking.

Hannah held up one hand: wait. She walked slowly to her bedroom door and then across the landing. She looked down into the living room. The policewoman was fast asleep, slumped on the sofa. The television was still on.
Fat lot of good you are
, thought Hannah. She walked back into her bedroom and gently cracked open her window.

The girl pointed to her. “I need your help,” she said, in a stage whisper, her mouth opening and closing in exaggerated movements.

Hannah furrowed her eyebrows and held up her hands. “Why?” she asked.

The girl looked exasperated. She placed her finger to her lips again. Then she mouthed one word that was unmistakable:
Becca
.

Hannah felt a chill inside her. She looked around. She was still alone.

The girl beckoned her to come closer to the window. Hannah opened it a little wider and put her head outside; the morning air was cool.

“Please,” she said. “Trust me. Becca needs you. We have to help her.”

Hannah didn’t know how to react. She held her hands up again and said, “What?”

The girl looked around. “I know where she is. We have to help her.”

Hannah whispered back, “There is a policewoman here. She can help.” The girl shook her head vigorously and pointed to Hannah. “
You
, me, not them,” she said. “No grown-ups.”

“Why?”

The girl looked frustrated. She didn’t answer the question, but instead pleaded, “
Please.
”

Hannah held both hands up, wide:
what do you want?

The girl looked relieved. “Come down. I’ll tell you then. But no grown-ups – promise?”

Hannah nodded.

“School uniform,” said the girl, pointing to Hannah. Hannah looked puzzled. The girl frowned. “School uniform,” she insisted, mouthing the words as well as whispering them:
school-uni-form
.

Hannah rapidly brushed her hair and then quickly dressed, struggling to make sense of the last few minutes. She thought that the girl was too young to be a friend of Becca’s, but maybe she was. Somehow, despite having never met her, she trusted the girl – at least enough to want to talk to her.

Once she’d dressed she realised that, with the policewoman downstairs, getting out of the house was not going to be easy – whether she was asleep or not.

Hannah crept downstairs, very slowly, the feet within her black school tights tentatively seeking each stair. When she was about a third of the way down, the policewoman stirred and Hannah froze, panic rising within her. The television murmured away in the background. Hannah remained motionless while the policewoman settled again. Then, she slowly carried on down.

In the hall, she decided against wearing her usual school shoes and instead put on her ballet-style flats – mostly because they were quiet. She crept to the back of the house, moving slowly, directly behind the sofa where the policewoman slept, to the kitchen.

Very carefully, she took a set of keys down from the hook. She located the back door key and slipped it quietly into the lock, turning it slowly. The clicks as she turned the key seemed loud in the quiet morning. Once she’d turned the key all of the way, she looked behind her and listened for movement – there was none. She relaxed and gently opened the door just wide enough to slip through it.

The girl was waiting in the garden, the grass still wet from the recent storms. “Hi, Hannah,” said the girl. “I’m Sammy.” She was younger than she’d looked from upstairs, decided Hannah, but her manner was somehow older. She had the confidence of someone perhaps Hannah’s own age.

“Do I know you?” asked Hannah.

“We have to hurry,” said Sammy, turning to go. “We can talk on the way.”

“Hold on a minute,” said Hannah, grabbing Sammy’s arm. “On the way to where?”

Sammy shushed Hannah. “Quiet – you’ll wake the policewoman.”

Hannah was taken aback. “How do you know about the policewoman?”

Sammy rolled her eyes. “Well,
dur
. There’s a police car parked at the front.”

Hannah stood her ground. “And where on the car does it say how many people came in it, and if they were men or women?”

Sammy started to protest, but Hannah cut her short. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me everything. And if you don’t, I’ll shout – loud – and that policewoman will be outside in a second.”

“I doubt it,” said Sammy. “She’s asleep.”

“OK – how do you know that?”

Sammy exhaled, irritated, then coughed. “There isn’t time. I can tell you on the way. Becca’s in a bad way. We have to get to her very soon.
Very soon.
Please?”

“Tell me how you know Becca.”

“I’m her friend. Like you.”

“She never mentioned you.”

“We’re wasting time,” said Sammy, pulling at Hannah. “Please.”

“Look, this is weird. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sammy didn’t quite know what to do. Any lie to explain how she knew Becca’s location would probably have to be more preposterous than the truth – and she’d never told the truth about herself to anyone. Even her mother only knew part of what she could do.

Sammy sighed and took Hannah’s hands, and looked up, into her eyes. Hannah looked uncomfortable, but didn’t pull away. “This is a secret. No one knows. You understand?”

Hannah nodded, uncertainly. “I guess.”

“Promise you won’t laugh. You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“I can see what people – some people, not all people – are thinking.”

Hannah groaned.
What a fucking waste of time.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you.”

“I can prove it,” said Sammy. “Right now. But you won’t like it.”

“Go on then, prove it,” said Hannah, defiantly.

“Come away from the house a bit,” said Sammy, leading her into the garden. “You’re going to be upset. And we have to be fast.”

They walked across the wet lawn and sat on two of the four wooden garden chairs. The chairs were damp but not too uncomfortable.

“You have to promise me,” said Sammy. “Once I tell you, we have to go. There’s no time.”

“Prove it first,” said Hannah.

“Promise me.”

Hannah sighed. “I promise.”

Sammy looked into her eyes. “Your father is in hospital, hurt badly.”

Hannah shrugged. “That’s no secret,” she said. But as she met Sammy’s stare, she felt slightly unnerved: she might have the face of a child, but her eyes looked mature and knowing.

“Part of you is glad,” said Sammy.

“That’s not true,” retorted Hannah.

“It is true. Because he hurts your Mummy when he drinks beer. And he scares you.”

Hannah felt instantly hot. She was certain she was blushing.

“That –” she began.

“He drinks
a lot
,” interrupted Sammy. “He usually calls you Han, not Hannah.” Sammy pressed on. “You’ve only kissed one boy and it scared you because he touched your – your boobs.” Sammy blushed. “It scared you but you liked it. But you fancy a boy called Simon and don’t want to tell anyone because he’s not popular at school.”

“Enough,” whispered Hannah, pulling her hands away from Sammy. “How do you know all this? Who told you?”

“No one. Did you tell anyone? Did you tell anyone about any of this? You only told Becca about the boy who touched you, didn’t you?”

Hannah nodded.

“I
can see
where Becca is. She’s trapped. She’s really hurt. She’s hungry. And very scared.”

“Right now?” said Hannah. “I don’t believe you. It’s not possible.”

Sammy shook her head. “Right now she’s asleep. She’s very tired. But she’s going to do something very dangerous. We have to stop her.”

Hannah was still struggling. “No one can see things with their mind. Not for real.”

“I can. My Mummy can – a little bit. How else could I know all those things?”

“Someone could have told you.”

Sammy frowned. “We have to go. No – hang on.” She took Hannah’s hands again and closed her eyes for a moment. Hannah winced as a small pain flashed briefly in her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” said Sammy, “I don’t like to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pry – deep inside. It can hurt you.”

“Yeah right, so what did you find?”

Sammy smiled. “How many people know where your birthmark is?”

Hannah blushed. “Just Mum and Dad, I think.”

“On your bum, but low down, near your – well, you know,” said Sammy. “It’s small and shaped like a kind of potato. It can’t be seen even when you’re in your underwear. You’d have to know where to look even if you had nothing on. Anyone other than your Mummy or Daddy seen it?”

Hannah shook her head, stunned.

Sammy stood up. “We have to go now.
Now.
You promised. There isn’t much time. I’ll tell you the rest on the way.”

“So – so you can read minds and stuff? For real?”

“Some. Usually only the stuff that’s at the top. Or random stuff. And not everyone. And not all the time.”

“And Becca?”

“Not until she got stuck. But now a lot. I think because she’s so upset.”

“Where is she?” asked Hannah.

“I don’t know the place, because I’ve never been, I’ve only seen it through Becca. But I know where it is.”

“And why the school uniform?” asked Hannah.

“It’s a school day, stupid. Where we’re going is not far from school. In normal clothes we’d stand out.”

“OK, then,” said Hannah. “Let’s go.”

“One more thing,” said Sammy. “Have you got any rope, or washing line?”

Hannah nodded. “In the garage.”

“We’ll need it,” said Sammy.

5

Randle sipped his coffee without taking his eyes off the gap between the wooden boards. He glanced at his watch. It was still too early for the girl to be on her way to school, but several other people had already walked past. He didn’t mind waiting. He had nothing better to do – and didn’t want to miss the girl.

When it became light enough to see, Randle had found an old chair in one of the back offices of the garage. He ached from sleeping on the floor and his leg was complaining terribly. Worse, his eyes were smarting from wearing the contact lenses for too long and it had become harder to see. He had his glasses in his pocket, so he could take the lenses out, but he thought it best to wait until he had the girl.

Randle had spent most of the night playing out fantasies in his mind: what he would do with the girl; how she would react; what she looked like naked; what she would feel like; how long he could get away with it before he was caught. He’d become a being with one goal; one focus.

On balance, Randle had decided that – if he could – he’d let the girl live, that this was far worse for her father than if she were dead. Every time he’d look at her, he’d be reminded of Randle. The thought made him smile. He sipped his coffee again.

Movement at the edge of his vision caught his eye. It looked like the girl, but his sore, watering eyes couldn’t quite focus. He stood, wiping his eyes. He moved to press his face against the gap. It was her, but she wasn’t alone.

Shit
, thought Randle, almost furious. He could probably still grab the girl, but he wouldn’t get far without the other one raising hell.

The more rational part of his mind kicked in.

Where are they going at this time?
he thought.
It’s way too early for school. Paper round? And the second girl
–

The second girl was too young to be a friend. A sister?

They were now almost halfway past the garage. Randle felt his opportunity fading.
I’ll have to follow them,
he thought,
and hope they separate
. They were so tantalisingly close that he almost went ahead with his plan anyway, feeling sure that he could still have the girl before the police arrived, if only once.

Then the older girl did something which made him pause. She was pointing to the path at the side of the garage. The two girls hesitated briefly, appearing to compare routes. It was a brief discussion; after a few seconds, the two girls set off again.

To Randle’s delight, they took the path at the side of the garage. As a route to school, it didn’t really make sense. Yes, they would reach the school, but it was far longer and for most of the way there was no path. Indeed, they would largely be in open country, passing near the old quarry as they worked their way around the outskirts of town before turning back towards the school.

Still puzzled, Randle set out to follow them.

In many ways, he didn’t really care where they were going. This was his opportunity. Far enough away from town, he could easily cope with both of the girls – if he was fast enough, brutal enough or threatened them in the right way.

6

“Sammy!”

Abby’s shout roused Helen from a deep sleep. She felt awful, sluggish and dehydrated – as if she’d been drinking the night before. She rolled over in the bed, onto her arm. A sharp, sudden pain flashed along it. She yelped involuntarily and sat up, cradling it. “Ow!”