Authors: Helen Phifer
Martha wondered if she should tell her father about it, but he had only just stopped turning the house upside down in his hunt to find Joe. It would only set him off again. Things were no longer the same now that Joe wasn’t here. Her mother was always so sad. She spent a lot of time in her bedroom, locked away from them all, and it hurt Martha that she didn’t want to spend time with them. Her father still played with her and read her bedtime stories, but he always seemed as if he wasn’t quite there.
She was lonely and none of her friends ever came to play because their parents wouldn’t let them. She had overheard Lucy and Mary gossiping in the kitchen about how the house would have a reputation now. No parent would let their child come here when Joe had disappeared and never been found, and as sad as it was, Martha could understand why her friends weren’t allowed here. Their parents wouldn’t want the same thing happening to them.
The more she thought about it the angrier she would get. What if the monster came back for her? It must like children and she was the only one left. She had asked her mother if they could live somewhere else and for the first time in her life she had screamed at her. ‘No, we cannot because what if Joe comes home? He won’t know where to find us, you silly girl.’
The words had stung so much that her heart had actually ached for her brother and she had wanted to scream back, ‘But what about me, Mother? What if it decides it liked how good Joe tasted and wants to come back to eat me up?’ But she hadn’t. She’d run upstairs and thrown herself onto her bed, crying with anger, fear and pent-up frustration at Joe for being stupid and getting himself eaten. She had begged him not to go into the cellar and he had anyway. Sometimes she would think that he had got what he deserved for trying to scare her, but then she would feel even worse and hate herself for even thinking such bad thoughts. What she wanted was for him to come home, then they could all move as far away as possible from this house and the monster that lived in the cellar.
Today it wasn’t the thing that looked like a giant human monster that she saw, but the figure of a little boy standing by the boathouse. Martha had jumped from the chair and felt her heart miss a beat at the sight of him. She wanted it to be Joe but whoever it was was too far away for her to get a clear view and the rain that had been running down the window all day made it harder to see. She pushed her face against the glass. It looked like her brother but she could be forcing herself to believe it when a new family might have moved in somewhere along this stretch of the lakeside. But he had the same sandy-coloured hair that stuck up on the crown, much to Joe’s annoyance. Joe would spend ages trying to get it to stay down, only for it to stick right up again not long after.
Martha wanted to shout to him as loudly as she could, but she was scared in case her mother heard her. She would be in trouble for being in here and for calling Joe’s name if it wasn’t him. She banged on the glass, hoping to catch his attention, but he never heard. How could he? The boathouse was at the end of the garden. Martha turned and ran out of his room and down the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. Not caring that she wasn’t wearing any shoes she burst through the front door and down the steps to the gravel path that led to the boathouse, pumping her arms to make her run faster. Looking up she could still see the boy and she shouted at the top of her voice, ‘Joe Beckett, don’t you move an inch or you’ll be for it. Wait for me; I’m coming.’
Finally the boy began to move. Ever so slowly he began to turn around to face her and that was when she let out the loudest scream anyone in the house had ever heard. It was Joe, but he had no face apart from one blue eye that stared back at her. She fell to her knees, the fear paralysing her. He shook his head at her, opening his lips. ‘Don’t go into the cellar, Martha. It’s waiting for you. It’s waiting for all of you. Soon it will go to sleep and you will be safe until it wakes up again, but I don’t know when that will be.’
Then he was gone. He didn’t fade away but disappeared completely as if he had never been there in the first place. He left her screaming at the top of her voice, on her knees on the gravel. It was Davey and her father who came running to find her. Her father scooped her up into his strong arms and ran back to the house with her where Mary and Lucy were fussing by the door. He carried her into the lounge and laid her on one of the huge blood-red sofas. ‘Get me some brandy now. She’s in shock,’ he barked at Lucy who began to pour some from the crystal decanter into a small glass. She passed it to him and he lifted it to Martha’s lips. She was shaking so much her teeth were chattering.
‘You must take a small sip, darling. It will make you feel better and warm you up. You’re frozen. What were you doing out there in this weather with no shoes and coat on?’
Martha wanted to please him so she did as he asked, trying not to inhale the awful smell that was coming from the glass. She took a sip and swallowed as if it was some of the bad medicine Lucy would give her if she was poorly. Immediately she began to cough and splutter and she heard Mary gasp, ‘Bloody hell, you’ve killed her, sir.’
After what felt like for ever she stopped coughing and her eyes stopped streaming. Her chest felt all warm inside and her father nodded at her. ‘Is that better?’
She nodded back and then looked at Mary, Lucy and Davey. Her father seemed to read her mind and told them all to clear off and leave them alone.
‘Sir, do you want me to get Mrs Beckett to come down?’
‘No, thank you, Mary. I can handle this. I don’t want you to disturb her. She didn’t sleep well last night.’
They left them alone, shutting the door behind them. He sat down next to Martha and pulled her close, stroking her hair and rocking her back and forth. She shut her eyes. The feeling of being safe was nice and she wished they could stay like this for ever, just the two of them, but she knew that any minute he was going to ask her what had happened. She wanted to tell him, but she didn’t want to make him any more upset than what he already was.
‘Martha, do you think you can tell me what happened? Why were you outside screaming? I’m not going to shout at you, but I need to know what that was all about.’
‘I saw a boy who looked like Joe. He was standing by the boathouse but when he turned to talk to me he had no face. Father, I’m terribly sorry but Joe is dead.’
She watched the pain as it manifested across her father’s face. She expected him to tell her off, but he didn’t. He pulled her closer and whispered, ‘I know he is, sweetheart. I knew from the minute he disappeared. But how could you know this?’
‘That boy was Joe. He told me that the monster took him and that I mustn’t go down into the cellar. I believe him. He said that we mustn’t ever go back down there. Promise me we won’t. Joe wants us to be safe and we won’t be if we go down there.’
‘I promise you, Martha, that not one of us will ever go down into that cellar. If you see Joe again tell him that we love him and miss him very much.’
‘I will, but he already knows that. He looked so very sad, even though he didn’t have a face any more.’
James Beckett began to cry as he rocked his daughter. He had failed to do the one thing every parent must. He had let some monster kill his son and rip his family apart. He didn’t know how, but he knew that one day he would meet it face to face and kill it with his bare hands for what it had done. But for now he needed to listen to his daughter. He would keep his family safe until the day came that he could take matters into his own hands.
How on earth had the monster come to life and how could it be living in the sewers under his house? He didn’t believe anything like that could exist, yet his wife had seen it with her own two eyes and so had his son. He wanted to see it more than anyone, but it must have been able to sense that, if it came into close proximity with him, it wouldn’t end well for either of them. He would do some research, speak to his friend who was the curator at the Natural History Museum. Maybe he would know what he could do to keep his family safe from this Windigo. No wonder that horrible, strange man had been so eager to sell the damn thing to him all those years ago. It must have been hibernating all that time.
Martha began to murmur in her sleep and, instead of laying her down on the sofa, he held her closer and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t ever let her be on her own again when she needed him. ‘I’ll always be here for you, Martha, I promise,’ he whispered in her ear, then closed his eyes. He was tired, so tired after the months of sleepless nights.
Before long the caravan park was sealed off and surrounded with armed police. The manager had been shocked when Will had asked about the young woman and older man who always wore a cap.
‘Yes, well, of course I noticed them, but they were just doing their own thing. They didn’t bother anyone or cause any trouble so I left them to it.’
‘But you didn’t think to speak to them or ask them where they had come from or how they had access to the caravan they were stopping in.’
She shook her head at him.
‘No, because it was none of my business.’
Will felt his fingers curl into tight, white fists. He wanted to slap the woman who had no concept of what they were dealing with. She had a stack of women’s magazines and a half-eaten box of chocolates next to her on the desk.
‘How did they pay for it?’
‘Ah well, you see that caravan was bought for cash three years ago and five years’ worth of ground rent was paid up front, so there was no need to bother, whoever they were. You don’t go bothering customers like that who pay up well in advance. Why would you want to upset them?’
Stu pushed Will to one side before he leant over and shook the woman until her head fell off.
‘Look, it’s a very serious matter. We need to locate the couple who were stopping in that caravan before something happens that we might be able to stop. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’
‘I’m not stupid. Of course I do, but I can’t help you. They sold it back to us for a very good price last month on the provision we paid them cash. Which we wouldn’t strictly do, but it was too good an offer to refuse.’
‘How much cash?’
‘Ten thousand pounds. They said they were going back home. It was too quiet here for them.’
‘For fuck’s sake, I don’t believe this.’
Will stormed out, about to explode, and the woman looked after him, shaking her head once more.
‘Is he normally so angry? You know, I do a very good job of running this place. I keep an eye on the people I think need looking out for, but those two didn’t. I thought they were father and daughter. There was never any intimacy between them. I assumed that something had happened and they’d come here for a break. How was I supposed to know he was that serial killer guy? They didn’t exactly wear T-shirts stating the fact. You just don’t expect people like that to come to Barrow of all the places. I mean, come on, it’s the biggest cul-de-sac in England.’
Stu had to agree with her. If they had kept a low profile, why would she be bothered about them? But it was so fucking unbelievable that they had lived here and gone about their daily business without anyone so much as raising an eyebrow. She pointed to a large map on the wall. ‘They lived in that van there, near to the shore. Number 189. But it’s empty now. They took everything with them. Left it clean as a button. I didn’t need to send in our cleaner. They even emptied the bins.’
That was something. At least it hadn’t been professionally cleaned. If they could get a print to prove it was them that would be good, but he doubted they would. Henry knew what he was doing. He’d had a long time in his padded cell to think it all through.
‘Have they been back since the day they left?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. Why would they?’
‘Could they still have a key? They might be hiding in there.’
Her face paled at the thought of them still being here. ‘I guess they could. I don’t know how many keys there were. I haven’t seen them around or that silver van they used, but you never know.’
Stu went outside to speak to Will who was pacing up and down, his hands still clenched into tight fists.
‘Look, she wasn’t to know, was she? You need to calm down, boss.’
‘I know that. I’m just so angry that he snuck back here. Right under our bloody noses and we didn’t have a clue. He must have been laughing his socks off at us. We give the Keystone Cops a good name. It’s shocking, Stu. Why did we not know or realise? I’ll tell you why – because we buried our bastard heads in the sand hoping he’d go somewhere else and be some other poor bugger’s nightmare, because we certainly didn’t want him back. I let him in, Stu. I should have kept a closer eye on things and now, because of my stupidity, I don’t know where he is. But I do know one thing. The clever bastard knows we’re running around like headless chickens. He’s probably watching us right now. If he gets hold of Annie…’
He couldn’t finish his sentence because the words wouldn’t come out. Stu, who didn’t know what to do and was still in shock after his outburst, grabbed hold of his arm.
‘Look, he might have got one over on us for now, but we’ll find him – and before he has a chance to even think about hurting any of us. Don’t crack up on me, boss. I need you to tell me what to do because you know I can’t think shit-all for myself.’
Will looked at Stu and nodded his head.
‘Come on, Will, you figured it out the first time around. You were the one to realise that Sean Black, one of us, was a killer, and you will be the one to find Henry fucking Smith and finish it before he does something we’ll all regret. And I swear to God I’ll be with you all the way. I’ll hold him while you kick the bastard to death if I have to, and I promise I won’t let go.’
Will inhaled. ‘Thank you, Stu. I don’t know what to say.’
‘Say that you’re all over it, that now you’ve had that little outburst you’ve cleared your mind and we’re ready to rock and roll, because I want to find him, and the sooner we do it the better for everyone who ever had the misfortune to cross Henry Smith’s path.’