The Taken (2 page)

Alex felt awkward talking about this in front of a stranger, but glancing at the tall man next to her cousin, it seemed as if Simon’s concerned expression 9

was pretty genuine. And this couldn’t be too comfortable for him, either.

Paul sat down on the sofa by the unlit fireplace and stared into its lifeless heart. “Did you call the police?”

“And say what? No. It would have to be a local girl to play a trick like that, and nearly all the kids around here are either teenagers or toddlers. It’s not as if the village has got the largest population in the country. We’re not exactly on the beaten track out here. I don’t think Watterrow is even featured on maps outside of Somerset.”

She perched on the wing of the armchair and nodded at Simon to take the other sofa seat. Noticing how blue his direct gaze was behind his glasses, Alex thought that in another lifetime she might have been tempted to pay him a little more attention. Handsome, but not too handsome. Charming in an unaffected way.

Despite his almost boyish face, she figured he was maybe only a couple of years younger than Paul. Thirty-six, thirty-seven? Yeah, who am I trying to kid? she thought. In another lifetime, she’d have been upstairs in the bathroom frantically reaching for her lipstick. The wistful thought was bittersweet and she pushed it away, suddenly rebelliously pleased that she hadn’t had time to change into her party dress and do her hair. The romance days were over; she couldn’t escape that and it was easier for her just not to be noticed. She didn’t want his attention.

“Anyway, it was weirder than that. I mean, she was hysterical, but I think she knew the girl. She was screaming a name. I couldn’t catch it because she was pretty incoherent, but I’m sure she was trying to tell me a name.” She paused and shrugged. “I just wish I

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could understand why it upset her so much. A shoe and a girl, and that’s if there was anything out there at all. I don’t get it. I just don’t get it.”

A shadow passed across Paul’s face. “How’s she been? Has she been all right otherwise?”

Alex could see the fear in her cousin—the fear people carry with them for their elderly loved ones. Although the way she figured it, the fear was more for themselves than for any mother or father—fear of dealing with the loss, of having to watch the suffering, of being forced to face the inevitable future that comes cold, bleak, and inconsequential, stealing away our tomorrows with the blink of a random eye, with no “get out of jail free” card, no matter how special you think you are. Seeing all that in Paul’s expression, Paul, who had lost his painful childhood shyness to become a chubby, confident, successful newsman with the world at his feet, made Alex’s insides ache. She had a feeling she’d somehow got older than Paul in the last few months.

“She’s been fine. Look, let’s not blow this out of all proportion. Sometimes people just think they see things that aren’t there. She’d been out in this sticky heat all afternoon gardening and she was really excited about you coming home. On top of that, she didn’t have her glasses on. Your eyes and brain can play funny tricks on you from time to time. There doesn’t always have to be a reason.”

“She’s right, mate.”

Alex looked up and felt a vague disappointment that Simon didn’t glance at her while he spoke, his slight London accent dancing in step with the depth of his tone.

“I know what it’s like when I don’t wear mine.” He 11

nodded out the window. “Especially in this kind of weather. The whole world is different. Everything looks strange.” He smiled a cheeky, innocent grin. “You’d laugh at some of the things I’ve thought I’d seen, only to find out the monster is just a sweater I’d chucked behind the sofa or something.”

Paul stared at his friend for a second, his serious expression unreadable. He shook his head before he spoke, almost with disappointment. “Let me get this straight. You’re a hard-hitting foreign correspondent, and you still believe in monsters behind the sofa? And you’re trying to make me feel better? Now I’ve got two people to worry about. Fantastic.”

Simon threw his head back and laughed, a throaty open sound, and Alex found herself joining in, not able to do anything but, and within seconds the three of them were giggling like kids, maybe more than the joke deserved, but enjoying the breaking of the somber tension. Her own breath hitching as she laughed, she watched Paul snorting into his brandy and felt so happy to see him again, the warmth bubbling up inside her. It was good to see him, despite the afternoon’s events, despite everything, and it was good to feel good.

A big part of her had been dreading the weekend, the energy of it all, the pretending to be fine, but now that it had arrived, now that Paul was there, she was glad she hadn’t taken the decorations down. Glad she’d made the effort. Paul was the closest thing to a big brother that she had, and she loved him and Mary more than anyone in the world. Pushing herself off the armchair, she grabbed him around the neck and kissed him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears finding life in her eyes.

“Happy fortieth, Paul. Happy birthday.”

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The ravenous thunder prophesied the damage seconds before lightning flashed bright and ripped through the dark countryside sky. Alex hastily swallowed a couple of large pills with a gulp of red wine and pushed the packet back into the depths of her jeans pocket before leaving the kitchen and joining the two men gazing out of the patio doors at Mother Nature’s fireworks. Mary was still sleeping, but the three of them had fried themselves steaks and eaten them with mushrooms and heaps of salad, before slicing open Paul’s chocolate cake. Alex had sent the other two away to the lounge while she loaded the dishwasher, and it was seconds afterward that the storm had arrived over the village, the men turning out the lights to fully see the dazzling show above their heads.

Despite the exhaustion that filled her thin frame and the pain that was creeping back, niggling at her insides, the pills a reminder of its unwanted presence, 14

she stood breathless for a second, her eyes no doubt glowing in wonder like those of Paul and Simon beside her. For a few moments they had been transported back to their childhoods, a time when pleasure and fascination could be found in the simplest things. Light exploded ahead of her, stabbing downward into the dark fields that surrounded them, and she hoped that old Tucker had brought his animals in. Nothing should have to face such angry beauty, no sheep or cow, however doomed to slaughter, should be out there on a night like this, shivering and helpless and full of fear. Not on a night like this. This was a night when anything could happen. Anything at all. The world was off-kilter, this time not just for her, but for everyone. She could feel it crawling on her skin.

Behind the noise of the battle that raged above them was the steady thrum of the rain hitting the glass and the ground outside, a noise more like that of the harsh hammering of hailstones than the normal gentle patter. Despite the warmth inside the old house, Alex shivered. The world had gone wild outside, unrecognizable from the sedate, gentle and ordered country of yesterday. For some reason, when she spoke, her words came out in a whisper.

“I can’t remember ever seeing it like this. If it goes on too long, the river will flood like it did in ‘89.” She smiled up at her cousin. “Do you remember, Paul? Everyone the other side of The Rock was trapped. The road was completely submerged. You piggybacked me through the water. I thought it was wonderful.”

Paul’s teeth shone in the gloom as he grinned. “Yes, I remember. You were only about ten. Skinny little thing with that awful fringe. I think I’d just finished University.

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Must have been when I’d got that job on the terrible local rag.”

“Does the river flood often?” The ice tinkled in the glass as Simon sipped his whisky, and feeling him looking at her rather than her cousin, Alex fought the pleasant tingle that threatened to overrun her body. She shook her head.

“No, not really. A little bit most years, but not like that. I don’t think it ever broke its banks like that before or since.” She smiled up at him. “Until tonight, maybe.”

“There was one other time.”

The papery voice behind them was so unexpected that Alex almost dropped her wine.

“When Paul was ten. The day before his birthday, in fact. Thirty years ago. The river came alive that time. Nothing could stop it. Nothing. The whole village was cut off for days.”

“Jesus shit, Mum.”

Almost giggling at the childlike tone in Paul’s voice, Alex turned. The sight of her aunt stopped the laughter dead, aborted it in her throat. Mary had aged twenty years or more since going outside to mow the lawns that afternoon. That energetic, smiling woman, defiant of the restrictions of age, had gone, and Alex felt with a cold certainty that sent a wave of nausea through her that she was gone for good. In her place stood a stranger: a fragile, elderly woman clad only in a sleeveless cotton nightie, the flesh of her upper arms hanging loosely from her bones, the skin on her face sagging downward as if having given up the fight to stay lifted and young. Her eyes seemed too wide as she gazed out past the living and into the night.

“Are you okay, Mary?”

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Not getting any reply, Alex glanced up at Paul, but he didn’t move, so she reached for his hand, as much for her own comfort as for his. Simon had gone to the other side of the room to where the light switches were, but as he reached for them Mary’s shrill voice stopped his hand.

“No! No lights!”

Simon looked over at Paul and then Alex, who shrugged at him. If Mary didn’t want light, then that was fine. No lights. Looking at her barely recognizable aunt she ached inside—a long, tired, cold ache that filled the hollow inside her. There wasn’t much more she could take. There wasn’t much more left in her to give herself, let alone Mary. It made her feel bad, but it was the truth and there was nothing she could do about it. What the hell had happened today? What had Mary seen out there?

At least she was calm and coherent, something Alex hadn’t really expected.

Taking a seat on the sofa, she pulled Paul down beside her and glanced around for Simon, who had vanished. Where had he gone? She smiled humorlessly inside.

Probably got back in that flash little car and shot off at a hundred miles an hour, storm or no storm, and she wouldn’t blame him for it. They probably seemed like a bunch of crazies to him. And he didn’t even know the half of it. Yeah, that was it. He’d gone back to London. Back to sanity.

When he came back into the room carrying a tray with a mug and a plate on it a tear pricked the back of her eye and she rubbed at it angrily. There were too many tears these days and no point in them.

“There you go.” Simon’s voice was gentle as he set the tea and sandwich down on the small table next to

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Mary’s chair before withdrawing quietly back to his seat a little away from Alex and Paul, as if aware of his intrusion in this mad family reunion.

Watching his broad frame sinking into the shadows, a dark outline in the gray, Alex found herself wondering about this quiet man whom Paul obviously held in high enough regard to bring home. Her cousin never brought colleagues back to the farm; it was his sanctuary against London and all its harshness, and Alex sometimes thought that as much as he obviously loved journalism, Paul had no love for journalists and their inherent ruthless arrogance. Yes, there must be something about this man, something special, for Paul to have felt okay about inviting him along for his birthday. She let out a short sigh. He wouldn’t be so eager to do that again. Not after today.

Mary shifted slightly in the armchair, one hand rising slowly to her hair, absently fiddling with a loose strand, ignoring’ the food and drink beside her.

“Yes,” she said calmly, her head tilting slightly as her soft words cracked through the silence. “Yes, thirty years ago the river rose and burst its banks, washing them away to nothing, just like it’s probably doing tonight out there in the dark.” She seemed to be speaking more to herself than anyone else. “Funny how I could have forgotten the weather that day. I should have thought of it. I should have felt it this morning.” Pausing, she let out a small unsettling sound, somewhere between a sigh and a giggle that sent a shiver down Alex’s spine. “Today had the same smell as that day. Sweet and heavy. How did I forget?” Her hand had left her hair, but still hovered, forgotten. “The little girl in the garden was Melanie Parr.”

The change in direction confused Alex slightly, but 18

Paul’s hand twitched violently in hers before he withdrew it, making her look up at him. The name meant nothing to her, but it obviously did to Paul. He drained his glass before speaking, spitting the words out like chunks of ice.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It couldn’t have been.” Although her son was glaring at her, Mary was oblivious, gazing out into the night, a small, scared smile on her face. “Melanie Parr… That child could have been anyone, if there was a girl there at all.” Paul’s voice lowered to a mutter. “You’re sounding like a crazy person.”

Alex looked from cousin to aunt, her curiosity rising despite herself, hating the feeling that she was suddenly as much an outsider as Simon. What had got into Paul, anyway? He never spoke to Mary like that, never. Why do it now when she’d had such a terrible day? She reached for his arm. “Who’s Melanie Parr?”

“She was in my class at school.” He wasn’t looking at her, and Alex frowned slightly as she heard a hint of his long forgotten stutter behind his words. How could the mention of one name shake his confidence like that?

“It was a long time ago. I barely remember what she looked like. I’d forgotten about her.”

Watching him gazing into the bottom of his glass, Alex rejected his words. She didn’t believe him, and that realization felt as if the breath had been punched from her lungs. Her cousin had never lied to her, but she knew with the insight granted to those with nowhere left to hide that he was lying to her now. Paul closed her off; her gaze was drawn back to her aunt. Mary was nodding at nothing in particular, as if someplace where only she was, everything was making sense.