Authors: Ony Bond
The killer stopped his car by the lake. As much as he had tried it was hard to stay away. He needed to know if the police or anyone else had been here. The water looked serene under the trees. There was nobody here. He walked to the edge, looked at the calm water. From where he stood he would not even see the bottom. Four bodies in bags lay in that lake. Nobody but him knew a thing. He smiled as he listened to the chirping of birds in the trees. If anyone arrived, he would just act normally. Like someone out here for a walk on a sunny day. He wanted to shout at the police.
“Come and get me! I’m right here at the place I buried the victims. They’re being kidnapped and killed right under your nose, Chief Detective Martin. And they say you’re clever. I’m much smarter than you.”
He picked a couple of stones and flung them at the water as he thought of Rose, the girl he disliked the moment he saw her. She was too smart, confident and attractive. He might have liked her had she different hair colour. But those green eyes and ash-blonde hair reminded him of a mother he hated. Whom he still dreamt about. He hadn’t managed to lure Rose yet. Patience paid. He would pretend to her friend. Men noticed her beauty like they did his mother.
Memories suffused him.
***
He was seven. His mother was on her knees with her short skirt hiked to her waist. She was with another boyfriend again. The boy watched with anger and disgust. His dad was not home working another graveyard shift as usual. Leaving his mother to party. Everyone called her the street prostitute. Different men visited this place. The boy hated and feared her. Sometimes she sent him to get her cold beer from the fridge for her boyfriends, slapped him and cursed if he didn’t move fast enough. How many times had he wanted to be a large strong boy, kick, chase her from the house onto the streets and lock the door? That spineless man she called a husband couldn’t act. He had heard her mother scream and threaten him.
“Don’t you ever tell me not to go drinking or bringing men home. I’ll do what I want. Shut up, or one of my boyfriends will break your arms. If you ever tell me to stay home, I’ll leave you and your brat. He’s not even yours. Someone else made me pregnant. Fetch me a cold beer, silly man.”
The boy felt chilled. Those horrible words rang in his ears.
“I’ll leave you and your brat. He’s not even yours.”
How could his mother say that? Who was his real father? Someone she had met in a pub, or alley when drunk?
The man he called dad said nothing, shuffled to the fridge and fetched her a beer. The boy cried himself to sleep, hated them both. His dad always worked nights to escape her boyfriends. What a coward! He would rather hide from the world under guise of night shifts. After that night the man he had thought was his father changed. Shrunk further into himself. Became a shell that said nothing to the boy and woman. He still brought his pay home in an envelope and handed it all to his wife.
Then it happened.
One night his mother packed her bags for good.
“I’m leaving you and that spineless man. Got me a rich geezer in London, who’ll buy me things. Tell that man you call dad I’m not ever coming back to this dump. He mustn’t look for me. If he tries I shall send someone to beat him.”
The boy asked, “Who is my real dad?”
“So you heard me speak to that stupid man? I don’t remember the toad that got me pregnant. Can’t even remember him. Just some faceless guy. If I recalled him I’d have slit his throat. I never wanted a child. That’s why I hate you.”
“I hate you too!” the boy yelled. “One day I shall look for you and kill you. You’re nothing but an evil woman! I hate you! Hate you!”
“What did you just call me?” she shrieked, leapt at him in those red high heels, slipped and fell on her back. She staggered to her feet. “Where are you?”
He streaked to his room, closed the door and turned the key in the lock.
“I’m ashamed to call you mother. One day I will find you and slit your throat.”
She banged on the door as she shouted. He yelled back. Finally, she left, her suitcase in her hands and handbag on her arm. Got in a large expensive red car where a fat man waited. All he remembered of her was long ash-blonde hair that reached her waist, a short red skirt, small red blouse with a low neckline that showed her breasts and pierced navel, and the high heeled stilettos she loved. Even her mouth wore a splash of red lipstick. The car disappeared down the road. That was the last he saw of her.
He swore one day she would pay. Imagined meeting her in a pub. She would be drunk. He would get her to the car, drive to a quiet spot and introduce himself. Remind her about his promise. Watch her scream and beg for her life. Zip her dead body in a bag before the final trip to a lake where he would dump her.
One day he would pay her a visit. She loved booze and drink. Wouldn’t be hard to find at all.
Godfree joined the motorway. A speeding car flashed its lights as it shot past him. The long-haired male driver muttered something as he gave him the finger. He kept his speed. Under four miles later he left the motorway, veered to the left and followed the winding road that passed through a village, and countryside dotted with blooming flowers. Summer was in the air. The day was sunny and warm. He emerged from a roundabout and was on a long straight strip when a car emerged. In seconds it zoomed past.
Rose waved. He smiled, waved back, recalled the trip to the sea yesterday.
They had used her car, held hands, walked barefoot on the sand and climbed the cliff. Sat at the summit, counted ships on the sea below them. And then bought food in a restaurant by the seaside. A day to remember.
He reached the factory twenty minutes later, parked in his usual spot. Rose’s car was close. A girl in a red pinafore and blouse alighted from the car, sauntered over, opened the door and slid into the passenger seat.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
“Love your outfit.”
She smiled. “Thought you would.”
“What happened to slacks?”
“My boyfriend likes me better in skirts and dresses. You were doing forty when I overtook you, crawling like a ninety-year old geezer. Guess that’s what you get when you drive junk.”
“You were speeding as usual. If you have an accident and get killed, I’d lose a girlfriend.”
“You can’t get a better car? What happens to your wages? I know, you send it back home to your five wives and thirty children?”
“Yes, my two youngest wives called yesterday. They both gave birth to twins. So it’s no longer thirty children but thirty-four.”
“You sure those kids are yours? Get DNA tests done. You’ll find out it’s the postman. You got my text this morning? I wanted to see you before you met my dad. There’s something on refugees in
The Daily
today, about sending refugees back. My dad might mention it to you. Keep out of his way even when he mentions the boot-fare. It’s meant to rile you.”
“Thanks. Will keep my cool if he does.”
“He has already arrived and in the factory. I’d check your kids’ DNA if I was you. That sleazy-eyed postman’s the culprit.”
“Now that you mention it, I really must get that done. I never did trust that sly-eyed guy much. There was even talk half the kids in the neighbourhood were his.”
“He’s the culprit. Pity to spend the whole day here. Miss the sea. We had a good time. Can’t wait for next time.”
“Miss it too.”
She placed her hand over his and squeezed his fingers. “Time to leave for work. Watch my dad. Be careful.”
“Sure.”
“No fighting.”
“No fighting.”
She formed a fist, punched his shoulder and smiled. And then stepped out, waited for him to join her. They headed for the factory doors. He pushed the doors open, let her get in the building first before walking up the steps to the electrical shop.
Frank was in the workshop seated on his chair,
The Daily
on his lap as he worked on a crossword puzzle. He ignored his greeting, glanced up, scowled, stood, reached him and dumped the paper on the table beside him. Godfree’s chest muscles tightened.
“Seen this?” Frank said.
“No.”
“Read it.”
Godfree glanced at the heading on the front page.
Send These Cheats Back
Godfree read the story, handed the paper back.
“You got nothing to say? It’s damn right. There’s too many of your brothers and sisters cheating our system. Go back home. Do you hear me; you cheat?”
“I’m not a cheat, Frank.”
“You lied to get asylum. You can’t fool me. And I want you to leave my daughter alone. You followed Rose to the boot-fare on Saturday. Get someone else.”
“I couldn’t stand by while she was insulted.”
“She wasn’t home yesterday. Was she with you?”
James strolled in at that moment.
“Hi guys!”
Both men smiled and responded.
Frank spoke, “I showed him today’s paper. There’s a good heading here.”
James patted Frank’s shoulder. “It’s a fine day. Wish I wasn’t at work and relaxing at home.”
Godfree put on his work-suit and dumped his lunchbox in his locker.
“Shouldn’t you be taking a girl on a date? What happened to our plans? Guess all you’re good at is smiling at her and buying coffee. I gave you her number. Got no guts when it comes to dating a girl, huh?”
“I did call her on Saturday after you gave me her number.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, I thought she’s still getting over her ex-boyfriend and needed space. Don’t want to push her. But I will talk to her again, take her to a film and a meal sometime.”
“Come home sometime, visit us for supper. Buy flowers for the ladies. Give a good impression. She was hurt by that boy but she must get over it. It’s time she had someone steady in her life. Go for it.”
“Thanks, Frank. He was just an educated cheat.”
“Do you want her running off with a damn refugee? If that ever happens I will hold you responsible. Maybe I should find someone else.”
Godfree filled the kettle, switched it on. When the water had boiled he brewed tea. He was having a cup when Mark, the maintenance manager came up the steps.
“Hi guys!”
“Morning Mark.”
“Godfree, when you have finished your tea, need a word in my office.”
Frank walked out.
James drew close. His voice was excited. “You heard Frank himself telling me to ask Rose out. Guess he knows what I feel about her. I know her favourite flowers.”
“Tea?”
“Thanks.”
James whistled, started working on an electric motor. They talked a while as he emptied his cup, finished his tea, before walking to Mark’s office. He tapped on the door, entered and closed it. Mark smiled, swung around in his chair.
“Take a seat, mate.”
“Thanks.” He sat.
“How’s the job?”
Godfree nodded. “It’s ok. I like it.”
“Kelly, the new electrician’s starting tomorrow. Our engineering director is retiring in a month. I’m replacing him.”
“Oh, congratulations, Mark!” Godfree held out his hand.
The manager shook it. “Thanks. That will leave my post empty. I’d like you to act in my place.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“What about Jones, the charge-hand?”
“The managing director makes the appointments. From now you work in the office with me. It’s still hush hush, until it’s made official, so keep it to yourself.”
An hour later he walked down to the nearest coffee machine, slotted a coin in and fetched a hot coffee. So he would be the new maintenance manager? This would not go down well with Frank. The sound of machines and smell of oil filled the air. Several elderly Indian women machine operators waved at him. He did the same. As he sipped the drink James arrived.
“Are you working in Mark’s office now?”
Godfree shrugged. “Just helping with a few things. Any breakdowns yet?”
“Two. You heard Frank. He wants me to date Rose. Ah, here she comes.”
Rose joined them. “Hi, boys.”
“Hi,” Godfree said.
“Hello,” James piped his smile wider. “Did I say you look different in that pinafore?”
“Everyone’s saying so.”
“It suits you. Anyone for coffee?”
“Just had one, thanks,” Rose said. “Why not grab one for yourself and Godfree? Run along, James.”
“Don’t be nasty to Godfree. Hope you won’t start again on that refugee stuff today.”
“I won’t for your sake.”
“Sure you don’t need a cup?”
“No. Get one for yourself and your mate here.”
“Cool. Wait for me. I need a word.”
James left. Godfree told her what had transpired between him and Frank, also added her dad and Frank’s talk.
“Your suspicions were spot-on. Dad sent James on Saturday. Doesn’t want me friendly with you. I hate it when he calls you a cheat. Time he knew I don’t want James or anyone else. Found what I want. If he knew we spent the day together yesterday, he would have a heartache. That’s why I sat in your car in the morning, so he would see us. Time he knew the truth. Why can’t I just tell him now? Get this secrecy off my chest.”
“Let’s wait for the right time.”
“Guess you’re right. Don’t think he can take it now. He might even attack you.”
James approached with cups of steaming coffee.
Godfree accepted one. “Thanks.”
“So how was your weekend, Rose?” James asked.
“Ok. Give me that.”
Before Godfree took a sip she took his cup. “I’ll take this one.”
He handed it over.
“That’s Godfree’s cup!” James exclaimed.
“Changed my mind. Want that coffee now. He can get another.”
“Hand it back, Rose. I’ll get him one.”
“Too late. I’ve already taken a sip.”
“It’s alright. She can keep it,” Godfree said. “I’ll get one later.”
“Here, mate,” James interjected. “Take these coins and get a drink.”
“No, James,” she said. “I’ll get you that coffee now. You want it now, Free?”
“You’ll pay me a pound for taking my drink.”
“That’s five coffees! I’ll give this one back.” She held out her cup.
“No. There’s lipstick on that rim. Don’t want that on my mouth. Cash will have to do.”
He held out his hand.
“I don’t use lipstick.” She pulled out her purse, picked a pound, dropped it into his palm. “There, greedy man. That’s worth five coffees. Need my change back.”
“No way. That’s for rudeness. Need another quid. You owe me two for taking my coffee and causing pain.”
She wrinkled her face. “Should have known you’d be ungrateful. Hand back my money.”
“It’s mine now.”
“Rude old man.”
“Nasty old woman.”
James watched puzzled by this new camaraderie. “I’d have given you my drink if you wanted, Rose. Did any shopping during the weekend?”
“Yeah, visited the boot-fare.”
“I went fishing, wished you’d come with me. Lovely day for a picnic.”
“You called me. Who gave you my number? My dad?”
“Yeah.” His eyes slipped away. “I asked him. When’re you free for a meal?”
“I won’t have time.”
“You’re always too busy. I brush my teeth and change my socks. A date will be fine and I’ll drop you back home in time. Frank gave me permission. He’s okay with us together.”
She cocked her eyebrows. “You asked him?”
“Yes. Choose the restaurant. What I’m saying is Frank wouldn’t mind. We get along, Rose. I’d be honoured to take you for a meal.”
“I might have considered it if it wasn’t for this guy I met.”
“You’re dating someone?” James exclaimed.
“You’re too late.”
“But...you said you didn’t want anyone after your experience with the last guy. Now you’re saying you got someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Who’s he? Anyone I know?”
“It’s still new.”
“How recent?”
“Days ago.”
“I don’t believe you. Frank would have told me.”
“He doesn’t know yet.”
“You look serious. So you’ve already gone out with this new guy then?”
“Yes, we got lots in common. Sorry, James. It wasn’t meant to be you. I’ll let dad know it won’t work out between us.”
“What’s your hurry? How much do you know about this guy anyway? I’ll wait because this might not pan out well. I mean you just met this guy. What does he do? Guess it’s another guy with several degrees?”
“Education has nothing to do with it.”
“Think I can walk away after waiting for you to get over Nathan? You got to dump this person.”
“I won’t. Wasn’t even looking for anyone when I met him. It just happened.”
James searched her face. “Your dad likes me. We get along. You haven’t given me a chance. Can’t you see when a man cares about you? You owe me a date.”
Her tone grew firmer. “James, there’s no chance for you. Forget it.”
“You’ll hurt Frank and me.”
Her voice rose. “You need to listen. We don’t even have much in common. I have someone now. How do I spell it so you understand?”
“I suppose he’s tall, blue-eyed and blonde like the other.”
“On the contrary he’s much darker, brown-eyed and slightly taller than me.”
“He has to be educated.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “He has a degree but there’s more to our liking each other.”