I gaze around as I take another puff of Vanilla Dreams. This building is so manky, even the kids stopped coming here to party. Besides, the tall barbed wire fence has put them off. Not me – no one ever comes here which is why it is the best place ever. It’s mine, all mine.
Grabbing a couple of batteries, I’m plunged back into darkness as I replace them. I don’t know if I can call what I stand on a floor. Everything is decayed and stinks of mould as the very foundations mourn their glory days. I still remember it after the original renovations, newly decorated, beautiful sanded floors and bursting with life. Not any more. If I hadn’t been driven away, if you hadn’t taken my life from me, things would have been different.
I didn’t want this.
I didn’t ask for this.
Sleeping dogs should be left to lie.
But, when you’ve lost everything and the past comes back to taunt you, there is only one option.
I grab the large kitchen knife from the floor and drive it through the photo, pinning it to the mould-infested plasterboard, knife tip piercing her right eye. ‘I’m coming for you next, darling,’ I say as I grab my vape and suck. ‘You’ll need more than a burglar alarm to keep me away.’
The whimpers are louder. You were meant to enjoy your surprise, Susan, but you were never grateful for anything. Time to sort you out. Everything is merely a problem to be sorted and once all the problems are sorted, the problems will be no more. Simple pimple as we used to say back then.
I grab the torch, lighting the way as I crunch on the debris below. This building, the keeper of secrets, was crumbling around me. It will crumble completely soon but I won’t be here when it does.
Glancing back at the photo, I grin. ‘I bet you’ve missed me Snow White. He’s coming, then all your nightmares will come back to haunt you.’
I grab my phone and send the message. He will do as I say. She is his loose end as much as mine and if I need to remind him, I will. In the meantime, Susan is calling. ‘Coming,’ I yell as I hurry along the corridor. But, I must hurry. There is something more pressing I need to do and it can’t wait.
Forty-Seven
I’ve become good at hiding, so good you can’t see me curled up in the seat the other side of the door. I’m not worried about CCTV either, there’s none in this booth. If I cower, don’t look up, my face cannot be seen. I’m just too good at this. You made me this good, you and the others. I don’t want to hide any more, which means you have to go. I don’t like this pub and I never thought you’d come back after our eyes met at the reunion. At that point I knew, you knew, we all knew the score – all four of us.
The Angel Arms. Angel suggests protection, loving – a guiding light, a comforting hug. There’s nothing protective in this dive. Nothing here can protect you from me.
You open your bag and gaze into the void. The red liquorice stick that I posted through your letterbox pokes out. Does it remind you of something? I hope it does. I hope it reminded you of what you lot took from me. It was your fault, all yours, and I won’t let the three of you bring me down. I want my life back!
Lemonade, that’s a change from all the wine you drink. Do you drink to forget? Do you drink to calm those nerves down? Do you sometimes sleep in your shed to hide from your demons? I’ve seen it all, really I have. You are tetchy, I’ve seen you in action. People you work with think you’re crazy, batshit crazy is what they say. Cruel, I know.
A group of lads cheer as one of the team scores a one eighty on the dartboard and… hello, is the creepy landlord giving you a wink? You don’t like the attention, do you? Pretend to look at your phone, classic avoidance technique. That won’t put him off. I know his type and he’s hard for you.
I like how you look out of the window at the car park, taking in your sad reflection through the leaded windows. Can you see how the roaring fire in the background creates a warm glowing halo around your head? You turn, almost catching me watching you. You won’t see the real me through the glasses and the flat cap. You just see a man, mostly hidden behind a newspaper.
‘I noticed you were on the lemonade, so I got you another.’ The pub landlord makes his move. I know he hasn’t got a hope in hell. You clam up as soon as he sits. You won’t drink that lemonade either. You know better. You’ve learned to mistrust from past mistakes.
You’re hiding your nerves well but he can’t see your toes tapping under the table. He can’t see the piece of skin you’ve just torn from the side of your finger. He can’t see the trickle of blood that snakes down your wrist.
‘I recognise you but I can’t remember where from. Pretty young lady. I’ve never seen hair so long, I would never forget your hair.’ The landlord is trying hard to get your interest. It will take more than a comment about your hair.
You shrug your shoulders and half-turn away. You know where you’ve seen him before, as do I. It will click in a moment, I know that much. No one forgets you, especially when you came with trouble all those months ago.
He shifts in the chair and pulls his shirt over his thin frame. His drainpipe jeans brush his sockless ankles and his look is complete with a pair of loafers. He’s in his fifties, weather worn with a tan that was in no way gained from the British winter sun. He points his finger and winks. ‘I know I’ve seen you before. What brings a beautiful girl like you here, and on your own?’
Wait, I can answer that one, can’t I? You don’t feel safe at home. You know I’m back. You can’t get hold of Susan and Dale has turned up dead but you can’t talk, not without them. You know I have something on you. Did you tell them what it was or have you carried that secret around all this time.
‘I’m Samuel. What’s your name?’
He’s a trier, I’ll give him that.Can’t you see she’s not interested?
‘Steph.’
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you speak. Your voice used to sound so sweet to me but now, hearing it makes me want to wrap a rope around your neck until your eyes bulge. One down, two to go I keep telling myself. Then I get to leave as a winner, with my prize. It won’t be me who brings you in though. I’m working on him at the moment. He will do as I say.
‘Aha! You’re one of the first Stephanie’s to come up on Facebook. Nice pic, Stephanie Baxter. We can be friends now.’
You and Stephanie will never be friends.
