The Back Road
Authors: Rachel Abbott
| The Back Road |
| Laura Fletcher [2] |
| Abbott, Rachel |
| Black Dot Publishing Ltd (2013) |
One girl is fighting for her life in hospital… One village is struggling to hold tight to its secrets.
When
a young girl is knocked over and left for dead at the side of the road,
the small community of Little Melham goes into shock. Why was Abbie out
so late at night, and why wasn’t she missed?
For Ellie
Saunders, the truth about that night could put her marriage and even the
safety of her children in jeopardy. She has to protect her family, no
matter what the consequences.
Former DCI Tom Douglas thought
that Little Melham would offer a peaceful retreat from the daily trauma
of his work for the Met. But as he is drawn into the web of deceit, his
every instinct tells him that what happened to Abbie was more than a
tragic accident…
Only one person knows the whole story – why
Abbie was out that night, and who was driving the car. For that person,
the accident spells disaster, and somebody has to pay.
THE BACK ROAD
Rachel Abbott
The Back Road
Copyright © Rachel Abbott 2013
Rachel Abbott has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
I DON’T WANT TO MISS A THING
Words and Music by DIANE WARREN
© 1998 REALSONGS
All Rights Reserved
Used by Permission of ALFRED MUSIC PUBLISHING CO., INC
All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the author.
Published by Black Dot Publishing Limited
Find out more about the author and her other books at
From the moment the cupboard door was slammed shut trapping them both inside, she knew something was different. It should have seemed just like every other day, but somehow it didn’t. She felt the familiar pain and discomfort - the same as always. So what was it?
The girl soundlessly inched her feet across the confined space searching for her sister’s toes with her own, both to seek and to give comfort. She had to try to make her sister feel safe. It would soon be over. But the fingers of an undefined dread were crawling up her spine.
Then her sister made a strange gurgling sound. She’d never made that sound before. It was as if something was stuck deep in her throat and she was trying to force it out. The girl silently willed her sister to stop.
Shh. Be still. Be quiet.
She rested her chin on her bony raised knees, and repeated the words over and over in her head, praying that her little sister would hear her thoughts and understand. If either of them made a noise, The Mother would be angry, and it would all be so much worse. Worse than suffering in silence.
She had tried to say that they would be good. They didn’t need to be put in here. But The Mother always said the same thing.
‘I am The Mother. You are The Daughter. You do what I say.
Don’t
argue. I’ve told you what happens to bad children. The Bogeyman gets them, and eats them for his dinner.’ And then she laughed. The girl was scared of The Bogeyman. Perhaps he would be even worse than The Mother.
She lifted her head slightly. A narrow crack in the wooden door let in a dusty sliver of light, illuminating a slender fragment of her sister’s face. It was white and shiny - a bit like a boiled egg when the shell was peeled away. She had never seen a face look like that before. Her sister lurched forward and bent over. Her hair was sticking to her forehead in damp curls, and she was making a noise in her throat. An awful noise. And there was a horrid smell too.
They had to be as silent as baby mice or they would get a beating. Luckily at that moment the strange sounds coming from her sister wouldn’t be heard. It sounded like The Grunter was here today. He made noises all the time - like a pig she’d once seen on the television. She hated the noise, but it was better than The Shouter. He always cried out, using words that sounded mean. She didn’t know what they meant, but he sounded nasty when he shouted them. Then there was The Moaner. She had once tried to peep through the crack in the door because The Moaner sounded as if he was in pain, but she didn’t like what she saw, so she never looked again. It didn’t stop her mind from working though, and every time she heard The Moaner, all she could see in her head was an ugly white bottom, rising and falling.
The Grunter never lasted long. Her sister was going to have to stop making that sound very soon.
The pig noises from the room outside the cupboard were much stronger and coming closer together now, and that meant The Grunter had nearly finished - he always got very loud just before the end. She didn’t have much time. She needed to soothe her sister before it was too late. She hated to see her punished. The girl tried to shuffle across the confined space, but the bindings on her wrists and ankles were rubbing on the bruises and sores and she had to stifle a gasp of pain. As she got closer, her sister looked at her through eyes that had the bright shine of unshed tears, and then her little body shook with a huge force.
The girl realised with horror that her sister was being sick - but the wide brown parcel tape across her mouth was preventing the vomit from escaping. Then she watched as the little girl’s eyes rolled upwards and out of sight leaving only the glossy white showing, and she slumped over against a pile of old, dirty shoes.
Somebody had to help her sister. The girl knew she was going to be in trouble and that her punishment would hurt, but she didn’t care. She threw herself sideways and rolled onto her back with her legs in the air, kicking out with her bound bare feet against the wooden cupboard door. And she kept kicking. She heard a shout of surprise and a growl of anger from the room beyond, and the door was wrenched open. A man with a huge red face and a fat blue nose leered down into the small opening of the cupboard, his trousers and a pair of dirty white underpants round his ankles.
Finally, she had met The Grunter.
Day One: Friday
Ellie Saunders took a couple of onions out of the vegetable rack, and started to peel them. Cooking always soothed her, and tonight she needed to do something to stop her mind from wandering. Not that chicken liver paté required much concentration; she could probably make it in her sleep. But it was better than staring at the walls and wondering what was happening elsewhere.
‘Stop it Ellie,’ she muttered out loud. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’ She chopped the onions with more force than was entirely necessary, and ripped off a piece of kitchen roll to wipe her streaming eyes.
Transferring the chicken livers from their plastic bag to a plate, Ellie jumped as her mobile started to vibrate on the worktop next to her.
Her breath caught, and her arm froze in mid-air. She knew without looking who it would be. Should she answer? Would it be worse to speak to him, or to ignore him? She didn’t want to speak to him ever again, but couldn’t predict what he would do if she started to avoid him altogether.
Snapping out of her momentary paralysis, she wiped her hands nervously on a tea towel and picked up the phone.
‘Hello,’ she said softly.
‘Why are you crying, Ellie?’
He was here
. Ellie nearly dropped the phone as her eyes flew in panic to the huge bi-folding glass doors that lined one wall of the kitchen, leading out to the side of the house. But the combination of the stormy skies and the brightly lit room made it impossible to see into the murky depths of the garden beyond.
The voice continued.
‘I’m watching you. I love watching you cook. But don’t be sad. It’s going to be okay, I promise you.’
Ellie’s heart pounded but she tried not to let her voice waver. ‘I’m
not
crying, and I’m
not
sad. Where are you? Please - you shouldn’t
be
here. There’s nothing more to say. I’ve said it all before.’
There was a sigh of exasperation from the other end of the phone.
‘Why don’t you let me in, and we can talk? I’m right here.’
The voice was quiet and persuasive, but Ellie shivered in fear. She turned her back on the window so that her expression would be hidden from the watcher in the grounds. He mustn’t see that he was getting to her.
‘Of course I can’t let you in. Max will be home any minute now. Please don’t do this. Please.’
A quiet tutting sound told her everything she needed to know, even without him speaking.
‘You know he’s not going to be home for a long time yet. He’s at the party - and he’s with
her
. We both know that. I’ve
seen
him with her, Ellie. It’s obvious to a blind man how close they are. But I’m here for you, darling. I would never hurt you like he’s doing. So let me in. I just want to touch you and hold you.’ He laughed gently and his voice dropped an octave. ‘What I’d really like to do is lick your silky skin and cover every inch of your body with my lips. You taste delicious, do you know that? The velvety smooth texture of your flesh reminds me of Italian ice-cream. Hazelnut, I think. Cool on the lips, a dark creamy colour, and a slight nutty flavour. Let me in so I can taste you again.’
‘
No!’
Ellie slammed the phone down on the worktop, and leaned against her hands, which were the only things stopping her from collapsing. What would she give to be able to crumple to the floor and lie there until this was all over? But he was watching, and she had to stop showing weakness.
She could hear the tinny echo of his voice through the phone, but couldn’t make out the words. She had to end this, once and for all.
She picked up the phone again.
‘Listen,’ she said, in what she hoped was a firm and decisive tone. ‘I love my husband. What happened between us was nothing - just a mistake. Please,
please
leave me alone.’
She was hoping for anger or hurt, but all she got back was more of the soothing tones.
‘Come on, Ellie. You know it wasn’t like that. You were so sad, and I made you feel better. I know I did. And I can make you feel better again. Remember what it was like? Remember the burning feeling of our flesh as our bodies touched? What are you scared of? Nobody will know - just you and me.’
Ellie’s forced calm had dissolved, and terror ripped through her.
What if Max finds out? He will never, ever forgive me
. But she couldn’t say that, because then she knew she would have lost. She took a breath, and forced her voice into an even tone.
‘I’m not scared. I just want this to stop. I’m going to hang up now, and turn my phone off. Then I’m going to close all the blinds so you can’t watch me. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or lead you on. But don’t call again.’
Ellie disconnected, and very deliberately held her phone up so that if he was watching he would see that she was switching it off. With her head down so she didn’t risk making eye contact with him wherever he was hiding in the dark garden, she strode briskly towards the windows and closed the blinds.
Immediately, the house phone began to ring. She marched across the kitchen and switched it off. She could still hear it ringing upstairs, so picked up her iPod remote, selected a Coldplay album and set the volume so it was loud enough to be heard in the back garden.
Her display of bravado was short-lived though, and tears of despair were seeping from the corners of her eyes as she grabbed a handful of garlic and crushed the life out of it with the side of a very sharp knife.