The Back Road (3 page)

Her mind drifted.

She stood gazing into the fridge, feeling a cool draught of air on her cheeks and staring blindly at the shelves of food. Nobody could see into the kitchen now, but she could sense
him
, skulking outside in the darkening night. She could feel his eyes penetrating the closed blinds, and was sure that if she drew them back, his face would be pressed hard against the window, his features distorted as they crushed against the glass. She glanced over her shoulder, almost expecting to see him lurking in a dark corner somewhere.

Snap out of it
. Her eyes came back into focus, and she surveyed the contents of the fridge. Cheese. They had a ton of it, bought for the dinner party the following night. They could eat some of that too, and she would get some more tomorrow from the deli in the village.

Uncovering dishes and unwrapping cheese, Ellie thought about her predicament. Why wouldn’t he accept that it was over? She just wanted him out of her life.

She knew Leo would help her if she asked. But for the last twenty odd years Leo had been secure in the knowledge that she could rely on Ellie; the one person she believed was beyond reproach. Ellie couldn’t be responsible for destroying the last of her sister’s illusions.

Putting the final plate of food on a tray, Ellie threw a last nervous glance at the closed blinds as she switched off the lights, painted a smile on her face, and went in search of Leo.

3

It was late by the time they made it to bed, but Leo was glad that she had managed to conquer her anxiety and finally set foot over the threshold. It was so good to see Ellie; she’d stayed away for far too long. It had always seemed better to meet up in Manchester or Chester for the day, or invite the whole family over to her place. But tonight she’d done it. She had fought her demons and won. Now all she had to do was prove that she could sleep here. No doubt the wine would help.

She was sleeping in Ellie’s old bedroom, and the tiny box room that used to be hers was now a perfect en suite. Everything had changed in there; the old door from the landing had been plastered over with a new door opening from the bedroom into the shower room. The modern white fittings looked bright and shiny against the dark grey tiles, and twinkling spotlights reflected off the huge mirror that hung behind the sink. No old memories here.

Leo hadn’t been allowed in Ellie’s room when they were growing up, although both girls had sometimes risked incurring the wrath of Ellie’s mother by disobeying. But Leo had never broken the rules when it really mattered – when Ellie had needed her. From the night Ellie realised that their father had gone for good without a word of goodbye, she had grieved alone in the privacy of this bedroom. Leo had lain in her own bed, listening through the wall to the sounds of her sister crying, knowing that she should try to console her. But she didn’t know how. Ellie couldn’t understand Leo’s indifference to his departure, but Leo truly believed that in the last few years of her life in this house she had become devoid of emotion. She had spent so many lonely nights after her arrival here. She had been the one sobbing herself to sleep then, and her father had done nothing to help her. It was contempt for him that had driven Leo to withdraw from others.

Unfortunately, Ellie had this ludicrous notion that once he realised his wife was dead, he would miraculously reappear like the prodigal father. And now that she lived in this house, Ellie believed he would know exactly where to find her.

Leo had to do something about this. She had to find out what had
really
happened to him.

She thought about her sister. Lovely, bubbly Ellie, she’d heard Max call her - and that was exactly right. There were moments tonight though, when the sparkle had faded slightly, and Leo hoped that her arrival hadn’t somehow put a dampener on anything.

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Ellie?’ she’d asked again. ‘You seem a bit preoccupied.’

Ellie had leaned forward with a frown, while studying the contents of her wine glass and fishing something invisible out with her little finger.

‘Me? I’m fine. Really I am. It’s all been so exciting for the past few months with the renovation and all the changes. Now it’s over, perhaps the adrenalin is fading away. I’m probably just tired, but I’m completely fine. Really.’

That was two ‘reallies’, and two ‘fines’. But it made sense that she was tired. With the work on the house to oversee, five year old twins and still working a few days a week, it was more than enough to wear anybody out.

Unusually for Ellie, though, she hadn’t even given Leo the customary lecture about ‘letting down her barriers’ and finding herself ‘a good man’. Leo knew that her past had left deep scars and some serious issues, but she had long ago come to terms with her own limitations. They were part of her. But neither Ellie nor Max seemed inclined to accept that.

She grabbed her laptop and balanced it against her raised knees. She needed to write today’s blog post before she went to sleep, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come. Since becoming a life coach, Leo had tried to use ideas from her own experiences each day to write a brief post for her clients. She might be inspired by an article on the news, a conversation overheard in the supermarket, or simply by observations of people’s behaviour. But tonight her mind was blank – or rather it was filled with a nagging concern for Ellie. In the end, she gave up and picked up a magazine that Ellie had thoughtfully left by the side of the bed.

Sleep proved elusive, so it was after midnight before she was able to switch off the light. But only moments later the sound of a telephone ringing roused her from the beginnings of sleep. Leo’s room was across the hallway from Ellie’s, and she could hear the quiet murmur of her sister’s voice, and then a clear note of tension. Ellie sounded as if she was saying ‘no’, her voice rising in pitch. That was the only word that Leo was able to make out, but Ellie seemed distressed and she wondered if she should check that everything was okay. She had just resigned herself to getting out of bed when she realised that Ellie had stopped speaking. A couple of minutes later, she heard a creak and knew that it was the second step from the top of the staircase. Clearly they had failed to fix that small detail in the renovations. Ellie must be going downstairs. Then there was the distinct sound of the front door closing very quietly, and moments later the low hum of Ellie’s brand new Mercedes four wheel drive.

What on earth could she be doing going out at that time of night?

Leo felt a momentary disquiet, but brushed it off. That was the house talking to her, casting its evil magic over an event for which there was undoubtedly a perfectly reasonable explanation. Nevertheless, she switched on her lamp and jumped out of bed to open the door slightly. She needed to listen for the twins in her sister’s absence, which made it all the more strange that Ellie had said nothing.

Resigning herself to the fact that there would be no sleep for her that night until Ellie was safely home, Leo returned to bed, picked up her laptop, and started to write.

A Single Step : the blog of Leo Harris

Searching for your rainbow

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain beating relentlessly on my window, and I thought of tears and sadness. A rumble of thunder and my mind turned to anger. A flash of sunlight, and I believed in joy all over again.

But what of the icy winds of winter that chill your flesh through to the bone? The snow that looks so beautiful but hides treacherous paths beneath; the stunning stalactites of ice that hang down from gutters that can pierce your heart without a second thought?

Which of these is a reflection of your relationship?

What is your reaction when your loved one walks through the door? Has the sun come out, or do you hear distant rumbles of thunder? Does cold ice settle around your heart, knowing that the road ahead is going to be fraught with slippery patches, or can you lean back and enjoy the sunshine?

Think of your heart and your soul as the weather, and listen to what they’re telling you. You are entitled to feel the heat of the sun’s rays, but getting to that warm place may mean you have to survive some rainy days first.

“W
hen it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” Gilbert K. Chesterton

4

The sky was pitch black and heavy with storm clouds, and the grass that she was crouching on behind the hedge was wet and cold on her bare feet. But the girl knew she mustn’t move. She was certain that she was being followed, and the slightest movement could give her position away. She tried to control her breathing, and swallowed a sob. She mustn’t make a sound.

Escape had seemed impossible, but she’d done it. With her heart hammering in her chest, she had seized the moment, grabbed the door handle, yanked open the door, and fled into the dark night. All she had to do now was find her way to a road, to a person who could help her. Then everything would be okay. She had to stay strong. If only she could get home, her mum and dad would protect her.

‘We won’t let anybody ever hurt you again, sweetheart. You’re safe with us.’ Her parents had been telling her this all her life, and she was sure that they had believed it. But who would have thought…

She couldn’t think about that now. She needed to concentrate. Which way? She could feel the sweat pouring down her back, and yet her arms and legs were covered in goose bumps. She wrapped her arms around herself for a moment in an attempt to stem the panic that threatened to swamp her. Cowering low behind the hedge and keeping her head down, she looked around. Danger lay back the way she had come, and for now all she could think about was getting as far away as possible. She hadn’t thought about where she was going - she had just run as fast as she could. But only the hedgerows and an occasional tree offered anywhere to hide. The fields were empty, and there weren’t even any cows to provide cover.

The silence was broken by a sound that chilled her to the bone.

‘Abbie, it’s okay.’ The voice was soft - and very close. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. I’m sorry if I surprised you. Abbie - where are you?’

Abbie crept along the spiky hawthorn hedge that separated one field from the next, desperate not to make a sound. Suddenly she felt an excruciating pain in her bare legs and feet, and choked back an instinctive scream of distress. She had walked into a bed of stinging nettles, and the hot throbbing agony was almost unbearable. She could feel her feet and the bottom of her legs swelling up. She had never reacted well to nettles. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if to hold in the cries of fear and misery that were trying to escape her throat.

She risked moving slightly away from the hedge, wincing in pain, so that there was enough light to see the ground she was walking on. But the moon and stars were obliterated by the black clouds scudding across the sky. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, but she daren’t so much as sniff. She wiped her face and nose with the back of her hand. She had no idea where she was heading. These fields in Cheshire all looked the same, and she could be taking herself off into the middle of the county and in totally the wrong direction. Away from help and safety.

Stop, Abbie. Think. With her eyes darting from side to side in fear of seeing a shadowy figure emerge from the gloom and her ears interpreting every rustle of the bushes as danger, she forced herself to focus. It would be so easy to give in. But she couldn’t. She thought about where the house was - the house she had escaped from. But she didn’t really know. She had been blindfolded when she’d arrived.

In the distance she could see street lights. They had to be the lights from the village. But to get there, she would have to go back the way she came. She couldn’t do that. She needed to find a road; find somebody; anybody.

Out of nowhere came a memory, as if her dad were trying to speak to her. The stars. He had told her about Polaris - the North Star, and how to find it. She looked up, and willed the clouds to break for long enough to get her bearings. The moon was still covered, but she could see The Plough - and that was enough. She should be able to work it out, but her brain wouldn’t function. She twisted her body round so that she was facing roughly where she thought the North Star should be, and straightaway she knew where she was. She was to the east of the village.
Thanks, Dad
.

By her reckoning, that must mean that there was a road somewhere to her right. The back road, her dad called it. If she could get to that road, she could find somebody. Somebody who would help her.

Abbie knew that she needed to get across the open fields somehow. But she would immediately be visible because of her white T-shirt. Quickly she whipped it over her head, and rubbed it on the grass - even a cow pat would be helpful. She didn’t care. She pulled the dank clothing back on, and realised with alarm that she must have made a noise. She heard a rush of footsteps coming towards her across the wet grass.

‘Abbie - I know where you are. I’m coming to get you. Stay there. I won’t hurt you. I promise.’

This time the voice was much closer, so Abbie took to her heels and ran as fast as she could across the open grassland. It didn’t matter if she could be seen now. She had to get away and the road was her best chance. She didn’t wait to listen for sounds of pursuit. She was out of options. And she couldn’t scream – no one would hear her.

Her legs were aching from the nettle stings and she was panting for breath when she saw a flash of headlights. The road must only be about two hundred metres ahead. She had been right. She forced herself to keep going, covering the distance in under a minute, but it felt like hours. Then Abbie sobbed in dismay. Between her and the road there was another solid hawthorn hedge, and no way through it.

But surely there must be a gate? There was always a gate. She scanned up and down the field, and was horrified to see that the only gate was back towards the house, and she was certain that way would lead to danger.

Abbie turned round slowly, petrified that she might see the terrifying figure of her pursuer racing across the field towards her, but although it was dark she didn’t think anybody was there. Perhaps she was safe. But she knew too much, and she would never be allowed to escape. Maybe it would be safer just to sit here until morning. Her parents were bound to be worried silly by now.

And then she remembered. She wasn’t supposed to be going home at all tonight. Her parents thought she was staying with Emily. They had been so pleased for her, so they wouldn’t be missing her at all. She had been stupid, and so very naive.

Tears of self-pity and fear were streaming down her face. The road was quiet; absolutely nothing had passed since the headlights about ten minutes ago. Abbie felt a sudden glimmer of hope as she looked back along the way that she had come. So intent had she been on checking whether she was being pursued that she had failed to notice there was a small opening in the hedge. If she could get into the next field, perhaps there would be access to the road.

Checking carefully that there was no movement behind her, she crept towards the gap, expecting any minute to see a figure loom up, out of the darkness. Her heart was thumping so loudly that she was sure it could be heard fifty metres away. Keeping her head below the top of the hedge, she inched forward. Then she was through and running again. With a choked cry of relief, she saw a gate at the far end of the field. Finally she would be able to reach the road.

Breathless and desperate, she climbed over the gate and started to walk up the road away from the village. It seemed safest, somehow. On the other side of the lane were the woods - a place she had visited with her father as a child, to see, but never to pick, the bluebells. It looked so different at night, and she glanced towards it nervously. The relief of hearing a car approaching from the village was enormous, and she turned round and jumped into the middle of the road, waving her arms for it to stop. Only at the very last minute did she recognise it. She had been in that very car only a few hours previously. Her tormentor had gone back for a car - and found her. Screaming at the top of her voice, she leapt out of the way and raced across the lane into the woods. The car screeched to a halt in a narrow lay-by, and a door slammed. She was being chased again - but she knew these woods. Scary as they were, perhaps she had an advantage.

Her energy came from somewhere, and she ran a few metres into the trees. She couldn’t be seen from the road, but she was close enough to jump out if she saw a car coming. There was no footpath, and the twigs and stones that covered the ground were cutting into the tender skin on the soles of her feet, adding to the pain of the nettle stings. What little light there had been in the open fields was gone now, and although her eyes had adjusted, the black silhouettes of trees emerged threateningly from the shadows and she was forced to slow her speed. The unlit lane didn’t help, although an occasional glimpse of moonlight breaking through the brooding clouds and reflecting on the wet tarmac helped her to keep her bearings, and stay as close as she could to the road.

She knew she was running farther and farther away from the village and civilisation, but she didn’t know what else to do. She stopped to catch her breath, and she could hear somebody crashing through the undergrowth behind her. She remembered her dad saying that fear lends you wings, and for the first time she understood what he meant. She needed those wings now. Her breath was coming in deep rasps, so loud that she was unable to hear how close behind her pursuer was.

There was a moment’s silence as she held her breath and listened for sounds of pursuit. Nothing. She knew the instant she moved she would give her position away, so she waited, trying to control her breathing and expecting to hear the eerie sound of a voice, softly calling her name. But the next sound she heard was much sweeter. It was the roar of a powerful engine.

She raced to the edge of the wood, ready to throw herself in front of whoever was coming. She leapt out into the road, but she was moments too late. The driver was going so fast, as if they themselves were being chased. She waved her arms in the air behind the retreating car, but the driver never even noticed her. A howl of anguish escaped from her throat. And now she had given away her position. She scrambled her way back up the bank to the edge of the wood, and without glancing behind her she carried on running.

Then against the dark, stormy sky she saw a strange light coming towards her. In an instant, she realised what it was - it was the headlights of a car lighting up the canopy of branches above the road. Thank God, she thought. But this time, she was going to time it right. She would hide in the trees close to the road until the very last moment, but she’d be ready. She didn’t want to give away her location in case the car didn’t stop.

And then she heard it. ‘Abbie, Abbie. Stop running. I won’t hurt you. Wait for me.’

Her pursuer was right behind her.

She saw the car as it turned the bend. She waited until the last possible moment, and then she jumped.