Woodhill Wood (15 page)

"When?" Ben asked.

"Soon."

Ben was quiet for a few seconds. "So, why is Mum always sitting by herself now?"

"She's working."

"Yes, I know that." He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and sniffed. "But she never does things now."

"What things?"

"She never... she never... she never watches telly now."

"She's working."

"But she used to watch telly."

It was so simple for the brother. He spent the evenings with his friends with his thoughts full of footballs and playing cards and cartoons. Even if Gurde explained, Ben would not understand.

"Go back to bed," Gurde said. "It'll be alright. Things will happen soon and everything will be different."

"Why?"

"I know," Gurde said. "You'll see."

"Yes, but... can I talk to you sometimes now?"

"If you want to."

Ben slid off the bed and stood up. "You want to play football?"

"Now?"

Ben shook his head. "No. Tomorrow. Do you want to play football tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Will Mum be angry if you play football?"

"I couldn't give a toss," Gurde replied.

"But will she get angry?"

"We won't tell her."

"OK." Ben liked secrets. He liked to be trusted. "Can I have one of your sweets now?" he asked.

"What sweets?"

"Mum took all mine. She did. You've still got yours. Can I have one?"

"That was ages ago. Mum took them," Gurde said.

"No she never. She never took yours. I had loads and she took them. It's not fair you've still got some."

Gurde shrugged. "I haven't got any, alright?"

"You have so," Ben whined. "I'll tell Mum."

"If you tell her, I won't play football," Gurde said.

Ben looked away. "I couldn't toss," he said.

Gurde laughed.

"What?" Ben said. "What?"

"Nothing. Go to bed. The sweets are all gone. Honest. None left."

Ben walked towards the door. As he opened it, he turned back. "So I can talk to you now? No more patches?"

Gurde smiled back. "No more patches."

There was another random killing that night but it wasn’t in Kent. Gurde was almost asleep when the news came on the radio.

"An Edinburgh University student has been found murdered tonight on waste ground on the outskirts of the city. Police say it may be the work of a serial killer who has already attacked two school boys in the south of England. The killer has also been linked with the death of a baby taken from a hospital in the same area. Over to Jack Sutherland in Edinburgh."

"The body was found this afternoon by a man walking his dog on waste ground in the south of the city. Although the victim has not yet been officially identified, he is thought to be a twenty year old Law student from the University here in Edinburgh. The Inspector in charge is believed to be traveling up from Kent this evening."

"Any link between this and the Kent murders would be a worrying development for the police. It had previously been believed that the killer was active only in the south of England and all investigations had been focused in that area."

"The police have not ruled out the possibility of a copycat attack, but certain aspects of murder known only to the police apparently suggest it is the work of the same person. I understand that the murdered man was a member of the University rugby team. It is even less clear tonight what the motive for these crimes might be and police are again appealing...."

Gurde turned the radio off and lay still, turning the silver nugget around in his fingers, feeling the weight of his own body against the bed. Even though the parents were downstairs, the house was silent and he felt cold.

The father had done his Law degree at Edinburgh University.

Gurde crossed to the bedroom door and locked it. Ben had already been through once. The packet of cigarettes was still where he had hidden it behind the dictionary on the shelf. He pulled out the last stick and put it to his lips. It didn't matter that the smoke tasted foul: smoking a cigarette seemed to help his parents think. A long suck sent a throatful of smoke into his chest. Gurde held his breath and kept it there, feeling a tickling sensation grow somewhere in the back of his head; then he blew out, and was surprised when almost none of the smoke reappeared.

He gathered the newspapers from behind the chest of drawers, laid them out side by side on the bedroom floor and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the headlines. Now there would be another one to add to them in the morning. He wondered what the News of the World headline would be.

The smoke gradually filled the room, rising straight up from the glow between his fingers, before twisting and spreading away towards the window. Gurde watched in fascination at the spot where the column of smoke started to dance, wondering why it happened there and nowhere else on its journey. He blew a breath towards the rising lines and waited the few seconds for the moving air to strike the column and send it into chaos.

He was so intent on watching the smoke rise that he forgot that he was supposed to put the cigarette to his lips. He lifted his hand for a second time, watching the patterns change again, and drew in a fresh throatful of smoke. The grey ash that had built up on the tip dropped off and scattered on to the carpet. He rubbed at the powder with his foot.

Gurde took three or four more mouthfuls before he dunked the end into the remains of a cup of coffee on the bedside table. Then he opened the window and dropped the butt out on to the wet balcony.

As soon as his fingers were empty his thoughts returned to the news from the radio. The father had done Law at Edinburgh. It didn't seem real, it couldn't be real, but now Gurde knew of three links in the chain. He was quite calm and shook off the thought that the man was coming. There had to be another explanation. The man could not know where the father had been to school; it was so long ago that even the father had almost forgotten, and it wasn't written down anywhere. There had to be another reason.

He couldn't believe that Mr Gunn was right, that it was being done just to get a name into the newspapers. Now everyone in the country knew, every mother was warning her children about strangers, but was Gurde the only one who could see a pattern? The only person who should see the pattern was the father. Only the father had been to all those places, only he could recognise them all as scenes from his past. No. Gurde smiled at his own paranoia.

But what if it were true? Who would he tell? There was no way that the father would listen to him. The father would never believe it because there was no proof and no motive and Gurde knew the father dealt only in those two sacred things. The father probably didn't even know where the first boy had died. That killing had happened on the weekend that the parents had gone to argue in the cottage on the coast. Gurde could take the copy of the News of the World and push Green Valley Primary under his nose and he still wouldn't believe it had any connection with him. He would think his son was mad. Gurde was not mad, it was just that Matt had gone away for a while. The parents would have no time for such silly games; they both had too many other things on their minds.

Gurde shook it out of his head. It was ridiculous; there had to be another reason. The father wasn't that important. It had to be coincidence. He stared out of the window into the thick darkness. Before it had only been bad dreams about far off events. But Edinburgh was only thirty miles away. It seemed so close. You could almost see it from the Woodhill. The killer had been there only hours before. He could have driven those few miles and be out there in the garden, watching at that very moment. Gurde closed the curtains and held them shut.

Gurde couldn't bear it standing alone. He needed to talk to somebody, not about anything in particular, but just to hear the sound of his own voice, to drive his paranoia away. He unlocked the bedroom door and went downstairs.

The mother was sitting by herself, curled up on the sofa, reading a thick brown book. Although the door was open, Gurde knocked to see if she would allow him to enter. She looked up and smiled.

"Hello, Mum. You busy?"

"Come in."

She shifted her legs from the cushions and swung them back on to the floor. Gurde walked across and sat down beside her.

"How are you?" she said. "Sorry I've been so busy recently. You look worried. Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Good. Well, how are things?"

"OK."

"Have you been smoking!"

"Eh?"

"You've been smoking! I can smell it!"

"Just one."

"Did your father give you that?"

"No."

"Well, where did you get it from."

"I found it."

"You found it? Where?"

"In the kitchen."

"God! What is happening to this family?"

"It was my first one."

"And your last, young man. It's bad for you. Smoking killed your grandfather. It's all right to try it once, I suppose, but if I ever catch you smoking again, there'll be trouble. Is that clear?"

Gurde nodded.

"Did you like it?"

"No. It made me feel sick and it tasted horrible."

She took a deep breath. "I know that a lot of children at school smoke, but that's no excuse for you to start. It doesn't make you look big. It just makes you look stupid. And, you mark my words, they'll all regret it in the end when they can't stop. I spend half my lunch hours turfing them out of the toilets and flushing away the cigarettes that I find. If the school catches you doing it, there'll be even more trouble. Can you smell your breath now? It smells awful. Go on, smell it."

"You smoke. And Dad."

"That's different.”

"Mum?"

"Yes. What is it?"

"Why are you and Dad not speaking?"

"I..."

She fell silent and looked away. All her aggression vanished as her thoughts switched away. It was so easy to make her feel guilty.

"Mum? You don't seem to love us any more," he said.

"No... I do love you, of course I do."

"Why don't you speak to Dad, then. You haven't said a word to him for a week."

"Haven't I? I don't know." Her eyes were already beginning to redden again. "I don't know. Your father and I...."

"What?"

"Your father and I..." She bowed her head and moved the book from her lap to the arm of the sofa. "He's... He's being so difficult."

"What do you mean?"

"He wants.."

"What? What does he want?"

"I don't know. I really don't know." Her head rocked from side to side. "I wish I knew."

"Why don't you talk to him?"

"I try. God knows, I try. It's just..."

"I'm sure there's a reason. Perhaps you should try harder to...."

"God! You're just like your father."

He snapped back, "is that why you won't speak to me either?"

"Oh, Matty." She took her son's hand in her cool fingers and squeezed it. "I'm sorry. This is all getting too much."

"Leave then."

"I can't. No."

"Why?"

"Things will be all right. It's just a bad time. Things will be all right."

Gurde put his free hand over hers and returned the squeeze. As the tears dripped from her cheeks he thought of the radio again. The mother wouldn't know anything about the events of the last seven days, or if she had heard she wouldn't have paid them any attention, so he felt he could ask her the one question that she might be able to answer.

"Mum?"

She sniffed and looked into his eyes, as if expecting him to pour some more pain upon her.

"Mum? Which school did Dad go to?"

She raised her eyebrows, surprised at the question. "I.. I can't remember." She sniffed again. "It was in Kent somewhere."

"How would I find out?"

"Ask your father."

"No. It's for a surprise."

"What sort of surprise?"

"Well, not really a surprise. Is it in any book, or anything?"

"I don't know. It'll probably all be in the Who's Who."

Gurde's eyes widened. "Dad's in the Who's Who?"

"No, not the real one. He's in the local one, you know, the Chronicle Yearbook."

"What's that?"

"That thing the local paper puts out every year about people in the area." Changing the subject was doing her good. She wiped away the last tear with the back of her hand. "It's the same as the big Who's Who, you know, the same entries and things, but for local business people and professionals. Your father's been in it for a couple of years now. God knows why!"

"Why? Aren't lawyers normally in it?"

"Oh yes, most of them are. Your father's partners are all in there."

"Why shouldn't Dad be in it?"

"He should. I was only joking."

"Have we got a copy?"

"Yes. I think there's one in the study somewhere. Why do you want to know which school he went to?"

"I was just wondering."

"You planning something?"

"No. Not really. I was just curious... um... somebody at school... their... their Dad went to school in Kent. They asked me where mine went and I didn't know, that's all. I was going to find out if they knew each other, you know... for a sort of surprise."

She smiled. "Oh, well. The book will probably be in the study somewhere. Try the bookshelf over the fireplace. I wouldn't go in just now, though. Your father's still working."

Gurde squeezed her hand and released it. "Yes, I know. I'll leave you to your work."

"I'm not really working."

"Don't be sad, Mum."

"No. No, I feel a bit better. I'm sorry if I've not been a very good mother recently. Things have been getting on top of me a little. Do you understand?"

"Well... sort of. You won't leave?"

"No. I'm not leaving."

"Good."

Gurde ran back into the hall and knocked on the study door. He couldn't wait until the father had finished working. He had to see the book straight away.

"Yes?" came the voice from inside.

Gurde pushed the door open. "Sorry to disturb you, Dad. Can I just get a book? Won't be a second."

The father was leaning over his desk. He peered over his glasses, gave a little nod and watched as Gurde hurried over to the fireplace and scanned along the shelf. "What are you looking for?" he asked.

"The Chronicle Yearbook," Gurde replied.

"On the far left, second from the end. Under C."

Gurde slipped the volume out from the ordered line, put it under his arm and left the room. He clicked the door behind him before he sprinted upstairs with his new source.

The excitement tripped him up the last few steps. It sent him staggering along the landing. Gurde caught his balance and dived into the bedroom, locked the door, rushed to the bed, propped up a pillow and threw himself against it.