A New Dawn Rising (17 page)

He rang Lucy as soon as he was off the Withdean. Much to his surprise, nobody had chased him off the estate. The Freelander had followed him off the pub car park before taking a different turning. Sam had watched in his mirror, totally baffled, as the rear lights of the four-wheel drive disappeared into the distance. As though its occupants had done what was necessary and saw no point in further contact with Sam.

He didn't go into detail over the phone. All he told Lucy was things were getting too dangerous, he couldn't risk getting her involved and he would sleep in his car for the night. She sounded mortified at the idea and insisted he stay with her. She had a garage for his car. He tried to reassure her his plan would be for the best, but Lucy was adamant. So, with great reluctance, he relented. On one condition.

The drive to her flat would normally take no more than fifteen minutes. Less at this late hour. Sam told her to give him a lot longer than that. He then proceeded to take the most circuitous and lengthy route possible. Sam spent the next hour driving down one-way streets the wrong way, jumping red lights, purposely heading down dead ends, and driving for spells with his lights off. Some of what he did was dangerous. Most of it was illegal. But Sam was an experienced and advanced driver. He only took calculated risks that put no-one but himself in danger. When he finally pulled the car around the back of the low-rise flats where Lucy lived, he was satisfied beyond doubt nobody was following him.

Now, seated in one of Lucy's armchairs, Sam was trying to explain the night's events to her. He didn't know where to start. He didn't even know what to think anymore.

It didn't take long for him to realise he wasn't so much telling Lucy what had happened as trying to fathom it out for himself. She sat silently on the sofa, watching him, listening patiently.

'Why would someone jump in and save my neck like that?' he asked out loud. 'More to the point, who would do such a thing?'

Lucy shook her head but said nothing. She was as mystified as he was.

'And how did they know I was there?'

His voice was full of exasperation. There were too many questions and not enough answers.

'Do you want a drink?' asked Lucy.

Sam stared at her in surprise.

'Well, do you want one?' she asked again.

'Er, yeah. Whisky, if you've got it.'

She got up and went into the kitchen. Sam could hear cupboard doors opening and shutting. He looked around him. Lucy had a cosy one-bedroom flat. Nice and tidy, with a few mod-cons. Nothing extravagant. There was plenty of pink, though. Every second item was pink. A proper girly flat.

She returned with half a bottle of whisky and two tumblers. Sam watched her pour them both a measure. She handed him one.

'Thanks.'

'You sound surprised?' she said, leaning back in the chair and crossing her legs. She was wearing a fluffy bath robe and pink slippers. Her hair was bunched up on the top of her head.

'I just thought...what with your dad...and with me being drunk-'

'Sam, let's get some things straight,' said Lucy with a meaningful tone. 'What my dad does is his business. Just because he can't control the drink doesn't mean I should deny myself the odd one.'

Sam wasn't too sure what to say to that, so he kept quiet, wincing with embarrassment at his comment to her earlier in the day. The crass one about trying to save the world from drink because of her dad.

'And as for you, Sam, you're a big boy.' She hesitated a moment. 'I think you probably do have some issues with drink, but I'm not going to tell you what to do. Especially after the day you've just had.'

She raised her glass to him and took a sip. He reciprocated the gesture. They smiled at each other. Sam felt quite humble. He thought Lucy Pargeter was one very level-headed lady.

'Talking of your dad,' he said. 'You said there was something you wanted to tell me.'

'Oh, yeah,' she said, placing her glass down on the carpet beside her. 'I suppose it's even more relevant now. You remember me telling you my dad grew up on the Withdean with Carl Renshaw?'

Sam nodded.

'Well, he was chuntering on about it again today. Not surprising really, seeing as Carl's death is plastered all over the news right now.'

Sam recalled seeing his own name in the newspaper article earlier today. He wondered if Lucy had seen it.

'What did he say?'

'Oh, how he used to knock around with Carl and a few others on the estate.'

'When did your dad move away from there?'

Lucy looked down at her hands. She had them on her lap with her fingers interlocked.

'I'd never really talked to my dad about his life before,' she said quietly. 'Not until today. I was always too mad at him for being drunk.'

Right then, Sam forgot about everything going on around him. Other people's lives had held no interest for him during the last two years. But now he found himself intrigued by Lucy Pargeter. He wanted to know more about her life.

'What changed today?' he asked.

Lucy looked up at him.

'It's ten years ago to the day that mum walked out,' she said. 'Left us to it without a goodbye. We've never heard from her since.'

'I'm really sorry to hear that, Lucy,' said Sam sympathetically. It dawned on him she would have only been a teenager at the time. That was tough. Losing her mum at that age. 'Is that when your dad started drinking?'

Lucy nodded.

'Yeah. Mum leaving broke his heart. He never knew why she left. He couldn't handle the loss and started drowning his sorrows.'

Sam tried to dismiss the ache he suddenly felt in his own heart. For once, he didn't want this to be about him.

The loss.

The despair.

The injustice of it all.

The need to keep the demons at bay.

Sam noticed a box of tissues on top of the television. He went over, picked the box up and offered it to Lucy.

'No thanks, Sam,' she said, giving him a sad smile. 'I did all my crying years ago. Today was about me and dad. A fresh start. I've had enough of the way things have been the last ten years. I want us to have a normal father and daughter relationship, which means we need to start talking. I need to start listening.'

'And how did it go?'

Lucy beamed at Sam.

'Good,' she replied. 'Really good. Well, it was a start, anyway.'

'That's great,' said Sam, noticing the sparkle had returned to Lucy's eyes. Looking at her, he felt his heart skip a beat. It caught him unaware, surprising and unnerving him at the same time.

'We talked about mum in a way we'd never done before. Honestly. Sensibly. Our feelings about her. The way what happened affected both of us.'

Lucy stopped talking to pour two more drinks. They both sipped gratefully from their glasses. Both of them lost in thought.

Lucy looked at Sam shyly. She was clearly worried about talking too much about herself.

'Go on,' said Sam, giving her an encouraging smile. 'You were saying...'

'Well, then we talked about his drinking. Why he was doing it. How it had affected me. And guess what?'

'What?'

'He told me he's never really enjoyed it and wants to stop. He wants to get his life back before it's too late.'

Lucy's smile broadened even further.

'So, what happens next?' asked Sam.

'We're going to talk some more,' replied Lucy. 'It's early days, but if he wants to do something about it, then talking has got to be a start, hasn't it?'

'Yeah, it's a start,' agreed Sam. He wanted to temper her enthusiasm. Tell her the reality. Explain to her that a drunk is the most deceptive character in the world. He also wanted to give her a hug. Support her. Encourage her. He found himself unable to do any of those things.

'Anyway, I asked dad more about his upbringing, including his time on the Withdean estate. I didn't even know he only lived there until he was fifteen.'

'Did he keep in touch with Carl after he moved away?' asked Sam.

'No,' said Lucy, shaking her head. 'But he kept an eye on how he was doing through the local news. Carl's business got plenty of exposure in these parts over the years.'

A life played out in public. Sam considered it inevitable his death would be the same.

'But it's what dad said about their time together on the Withdean that caught my attention.'

Sam listened carefully, although he failed to see how this was going to be relevant to what was happening now. After all, Carl Renshaw and Lucy's dad would have only been teenagers at the time. It was a long time ago.

'Dad got reminiscing about the other kids they hung around with,' said Lucy. 'He mentioned a few names and one stood out.'

'What was that?'

'Martyn Taylor.'

'Martyn Taylor?' repeated Sam. 'So, what are you saying?'

'What I'm saying is that Carl Renshaw and Martyn Taylor were once the best of friends.'

'Dad says Martyn and Carl were as thick as thieves. Always up to mischief together.'

Sam couldn't believe what Lucy was telling him. Martyn Taylor couldn't have made it any clearer how much he hated Carl. Yet, they had once been good friends? Sam wondered what had happened in the intervening years to change things so drastically.

'What kind of mischief?' he asked.

'Oh, usual teenage stuff by the sound of it.'

Lucy paused to take a drink. She flinched slightly as the alcohol hit the back of her throat, then placed the glass in her lap and ran her fingertips absent-mindedly around its edge.

'Not long before dad's family moved away from the Withdean,' she said, 'Carl, Martyn and a few others started getting into more serious trouble.'

Sam raised his eyebrows. This was getting interesting.

'Dad didn't like what they were getting up to. Robbing shops and stealing cars to order, getting into gang fights, running errands for the older, proper criminals in the area.'

Sam was in mild shock. He would never have had Carl down as an angel, but neither could he imagine him as a minor gangster. Even as a younger man.

'I take it your dad got out at this point?'

'Yeah. He said he didn't mind having a laugh, but this was on another level. The first steps to organised crime. Anyway, he knew he was moving away by then, so he wasn't too bothered to be missing out.'

'It sounds like he moved away at the right time. And he's got no idea what happened between Carl and Martyn to cause such a fall-out?'

Lucy shook her head.

'All he knows is, a few years later, Martyn Taylor and some others went to prison for a spell. Something to do with drugs. It was all over the local news at the time.'

Sam had no doubt it was. A drugs story in a sleepy area like this would have been big news.

'Was Carl involved?' he asked.

'He doesn't seem to have been. Apparently, he moved away and started his business around that time. Dad says the rumours of bad feeling stemmed from that period.'

'Well, it doesn't surprise me Martyn Taylor was involved,' said Sam, recalling his close call outside The Duck this evening. 'The bloke's a right thug. I can imagine him being up to all sorts.'

'His friends don't sound too pleasant, either,' said Lucy, reaching across for her laptop. 'Which gives me an idea...'

Sam excused himself, got up and went to the bathroom. When he returned, Lucy was trawling though the Bursleigh Sentinel's online archive.

'Sam, come and have a look at this,' she said, patting the empty seat next to her on the sofa. He sat down beside her, feeling slightly self-conscious.

'This is the report of the trial verdict,' she told him.

Sam scanned the screen for the date it occurred.

May 23, 1996.

Sixteen years ago.

A decade and a half since Lucy's dad left the Withdean. Plenty of time for Martyn Taylor to ingrain himself in the ways of the underworld. To build up a little criminal empire of his own. Sam wondered what Carl's involvement had been during that time.

Sam reached for his drink as Lucy began reading out the names of those on trial and their subsequent sentences.

'Martyn Taylor...sentenced to ten years for conspiracy to supply class A drugs.'

Sam was almost disappointed. With time off for good behaviour, Taylor would have only been inside for five years. Even less if he had spent time on remand.

'Clive Smith...sentenced to eight years for conspiracy to supply class A drugs.'

Clive Smith?

The name jolted Sam.

Smithy. The driver he had laid out only hours ago. Sam took a look at the screen for himself. There were no photos to accompany the article. No way of telling for sure if it was the same man. But Sam thought it highly likely.

He settled back in the sofa, listening as Lucy reeled off the names of those found guilty in the trial. Suddenly, the laptop made a strange, whirring noise and died. Sam looked at the screen. It was black.

'Oh, this damn thing,' moaned Lucy, pulling a face. 'It was doing this yesterday. I think I need to get a new battery charger.'

She placed the laptop down on the floor and looked at Sam. He started laughing.

'What's so funny?' she asked.

'It's your face. The way you're sulking.'

She narrowed her eyes at him. He thought she was going to pick up a cushion and belt him with it. Instead, she broke into a smile.

'You're right,' she said. 'It's only a charger. We can go and get a new one tomorrow.'

Sam caught what she said.

We can go...

It made them sound like a couple.

It warmed his heart.

And it terrified him.