The Drowners (30 page)

‘If that goes,’ he panted, ‘we’ll never get you out. Hold on – nearly there …’

Choking and spitting, Dave pulled his face free and sat back, the muddy end of the rope in his hands. Swiftly
knotting
it into a loop he passed it along the line of followers.

‘Don’t just drop the belt,’ he yelled as Lily grabbed for the rope. ‘Hang on – Ada, you and me, we’ll take the strain on the rope first, then the rest of you let go of the belt and get the rope. Can you move back a bit – space yourselves out so you can get a good pull going?’

For a long, back-breaking time nothing happened. Like the world’s most unlikely tug-of-war team, the mismatched little group set their heels into the mound and hauled as hard as they could. At the end of the line Simon wrapped the end of the rope around his body and leaned backwards, using his bodyweight to steady them. Then, so slowly they barely noticed, Tom began to move through the mud towards the safety of the hillock. There was a judder as his shoulders were pulled clear and he wrestled to free his other arm, before reaching out to touch the mound with his fingertips. The feel of solid ground filled him with hope and he felt his energy returning, despite the bitter cold and the tearing pains in his head and shoulder. Forcing himself to stretch his arms further than he thought possible, he grabbed on to the nearest clump of reeds, hauling himself a further few inches before they came away in his hand. Dave dropped to his knees again and reached out, catching hold of Tom’s wrists. Suddenly it was all over. With a drawn-out sucking noise, Tom’s upper body popped clear of the mud and he slid along the mat to land on the mound. Wriggling and kicking he freed his legs before collapsing exhausted, soaked and barely conscious, all his energy burnt away in the last desperate few minutes.

Dave sat down heavily, drawing a deep breath before feeling around for the torch he had abandoned in the reeds, and was nearly pushed into the water himself as Ada shoved him out of the way to kneel beside Tom, lifting his head and checking his breathing.

‘Tom? TOM! You alright then?’ She shook the
semi-conscious
man by both shoulders until he coughed, took a great breath and let it out in a groan.

‘Let me be, woman,’ he said, ‘you’re killing me. Let go my shoulder will you?’ He rolled over and tried to get to his knees, flopping back on to the ground with a cry as he put his weight on his damaged arm, his ankle turning over beneath him.

‘Think maybe it’s broken,’ he said, clutching his right leg.

Dave scrambled to his feet and took control, ushering Sue, Lily and Simon off the marsh and wrapping the blanket around Tom.

‘Can you stay with him?’ he asked Ada. ‘I’ve got a police radio in my car – I’ll call for an ambulance.’

‘Don’t you leave me alone with her,’ grumbled Tom. ‘She’s a mad woman. Nearly killed me, she did.’

‘Oh stop yer grumbling,’ said Ada fondly. ‘Was your stupid idea in the first place, remember? And you said you didn’t care – said was better than drowning.’

‘That,’ said Tom, ‘was before I knew how bloody much it would hurt.’

On the bank beside the hedge Dave found Sue and Simon in animated conversation.

‘I’m going to take him off to find Alex,’ said Sue. ‘He knows where she is – says there’s something wrong with her car so I need to go and get her …’

‘Before them men find her,’ added Simon. ‘Is from Bristol, most of ’em and I know they’s up to no good.’ A faint smile flitted over his face and he added, ‘When I was hiding, this Tom, he seen us but he never let on. Told us to wait until him an’ the other lad was past. Was then I saw Derek Johns and I figured I’d better be getting off the Levels myself.’

Dave grabbed Simon’s shoulder and pulled him round.

‘You say you’ve seen Derek Johns? You’re sure it was him?’

Simon tried to wriggle free, frowning at the young
policeman
.

‘I know what I seen and I knows Derek Johns. Went over that way.’ He pointed across the fields towards Glastonbury and Lily drew her breath in sharply.

‘What?’ Dave demanded, turning on his heel.

‘Middlezoy is over that way,’ Lily replied. ‘There’s this footpath, see. Cuts out a whole mess of roads so is an easy distance.’ Dave looked at her, waiting for some information that made sense of her concern. ‘Lawks, boy, Iris lives there!’

Dave found himself in a situation with three emergencies all needing urgent action but he was stuck out on the Levels
on his own. To make matters worse, he didn’t know where Alex was so he couldn’t send a car to her aid, even if he could get the radio working. Reception all the way out here was patchy, to say the least. Tom was the most urgent case, he decided. He needed to get to hospital as soon as possible. Apart from his shoulder injury and broken ankle, he was almost certainly suffering from hypothermia and shock.

‘I’m going to call for an ambulance for Mr – Tom. You wait here until it arrives and make sure he gets to hospital. Then you, Simon, are coming with me. I need you to show me where Alex is hidden. No,’ he cut off Sue’s protest, ‘I’m a police officer and if she’s in any kind of trouble then I need to handle it. I’ll try to get some back-up sent to Iris Johns’ place just in case Derek turns up.’

‘What do we do after the ambulance arrives?’ demanded Sue.

‘You go home,’ said Dave firmly. ‘You go home and wait until I bring Alex back. Make tea or hot water bottles or – well, you know.’

Sue glared at his retreating back. ‘Of all the insufferable, patronizing, sexist little shits …’ she muttered.

Lily watched her anxiously. ‘I really does think we should be warning Iris,’ she said touching Sue’s arm. ‘Maybe we could go when Tom’s in the ambulance. Take that nice car of your’n and just check all’s fine.’

Sue’s eyes followed Dave as he pulled open the door to his car and tried to raise the control room on his radio.

‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking too,’ she said softly.

Derek could not believe how hot it was. Despite the drizzle that fell and soaked his worn clothes, he was wet through from the inside out. A pulse beat in time through his hand and arm up to his head and his vision was blurring as he scrambled and slid his way across the fields and ditches towards the house in Middlezoy that had until recently been his home. Despite his discomfort, Derek was feeling
optimistic
, buoyed by the success of his recent plans. Tom Monarch
was out of the picture – right out by now, probably. The Great Marsh was unforgiving and few men fell foul of that bleak landscape and survived. That left the way clear for his lad, Newt, to take over when he was released from Dartmoor because there was little chance the rest of the gang would hold together without Tom’s guiding hand.

Derek was tired – tired from running, tired from hiding and tired from worrying about the constant danger of being seen, recognized and captured by the police. By his own standards he’d worked long and hard for his position and the money he had squirreled away in a couple of places and he reckoned he’d earned a decent rest. His idea was to escape abroad, somewhere there was no extradition and with a
half-way
decent climate. He wasn’t worried about getting out of the country. Derek had ‘friends’, and more importantly he had people who owed him a favour or two. They might think they had escaped their obligations but for the unlucky few there was a nasty surprise coming.

He rounded the last bend in the footpath and trotted along the hedge that bordered the road heading into the village. Most houses had their curtains closed against the cold night, he noted. A few street lamps cast a feeble trickle of yellow light but apart from the village pub, a beacon of warmth at the end of the main street, all was still. Derek crept out from behind the hedge and made his way to the footpath running down through the allotments. This had often been his escape route in a tight situation and tonight it was the key to the back of his house. Stealthily he edged past the garden gate and moved slowly up the path.

A harsh, white light came on, blinding him with its intensity and he stumbled, knocking over the rubbish bin and setting a dog several doors up barking frantically. Damn the woman, he thought savagely. What the hell was she playing at, setting traps like this? He grabbed the door handle and pushed but it refused to budge, either locked or bolted. Furious at this thwarting of his plans he wrenched the worn bag off his shoulder, buried his uninjured hand in it and
punched out the glass. The pieces had scarcely hit the floor before he had his arm through and the latch undone. The door flew back, hitting the wall with a resounding thud and he stepped into the familiar kitchen, coming face to face with Iris.

There was a moment’s stillness as she stared at him before opening her mouth to scream.

‘Now then,’ Derek said in what he hoped was a calm voice, ‘no need for that. ’Tis only I.’ He smiled, oblivious to the hideous gargoyle features he presented to the woman before him.

Iris stepped away from him, feeling behind her for the knife drawer. She managed to get it open and grabbed the handle of one before Derek seized her arms, causing the make-shift weapon to clatter on to the counter.

‘What kind of a welcome d’yer call this?’ he said. ‘You was waiting for this, weren’t yer? Else why not have no funeral, nor nothing – reckon you knew I was still around. Never said nothing, neither. Good girl.’

He tried to pull her close but Iris wrenched herself free and stood a few feet away, shaking from the shock of his appearance.

‘I need to get a message to Newt,’ said Derek. ‘Is all clear on the Levels again, I seen to that so he can pick up again when he’s out. Just, I need ’um to pull a few decent deals a bit sharpish. I’ll be needing some money where I’m going and a boy should look after his father.’

Something snapped inside Iris. All her caution, all the little tricks she had employed over the years to help her survive a marriage to this man deserted her. Her one instinct was to protect her remaining son from this man and his evil influence.

‘I told you before,’ she said. ‘You ’ent having nothing to do with Billy. Inside or when he’s out, makes no difference. He’s no son of your’n. You’m not even his father so you just get out of here and leave us alone.’

At last it was said, out in the open and to hell with the consequences. A fierce joy filled Iris as she watched Derek’s face, what there was of it, crumple as the meaning of her words struck him.

‘What d’you mean, I’m not his father?’ he asked finally.

Iris watched him, poised like an animal ready to flee.

‘I asked you – what do you mean?’ Derek yelled, lunging towards her.

Iris made a dash for the kitchen door, slamming it in his face and leaning her full weight on it before he could react. Derek swayed back and forth, blinking his eyes to clear his sight. Damn lights, he was getting black spots what with the light bulbs flashing at him and him being so tired. Hungry too. He’d better get his wife to make him something and then they could sit down while he sorted all this out. He reached for the door handle, grasping it with his injured hand. A fierce pain burned through his arm and he let out a cry, almost falling as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

Behind the door Iris bit her lip, shaking in terror and close to fainting herself. The shock of seeing her dead husband was matched by the horror of his appearance. That once
handsome
face was torn and ragged with the great scar across one cheek. His eye, clawed by Andrew Cairns as he fought for his life, was bloodshot and swollen and there was that awful dip in his skull, evidence of the collision with the lock-gate last November. He was ragged, filthy and he stank of the marsh, of sweat and a sickly overlay of infected flesh.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear the smell from her nostrils, and cast around the room for something to jam the door shut whilst she called for help. Perhaps she should just run, she thought. Get out of there, appeal to a neighbour for help. No, she could not bring that horror to anyone else’s door. Still shaking she risked leaving the door for an instant, seizing an armchair and pushing it across the doorframe. There was silence from the kitchen and she wondered if he’d gone, but she knew Derek too well. He wasn’t going anywhere before he got what he wanted, whatever that was.
Her suspicions were confirmed by a knocking on the door, quiet at first but accompanied by the rattling of the door handle as he tried to force his way through. The phone, she thought. Call for help, get the police. As she scuttled across the room there came a hammering on the front door and her knees buckled in terror. What if Derek was not alone? What was she going to do now?

‘They’re on their way,’ Dave said. ‘As soon as he’s been picked up I want you all to go home, understand?’

Ada stared at him sullenly and then turned back to Tom who was laid out on the mound, still swathed in Dave’s car blanket. Sue shrugged and muttered something.

‘I guess,’ she said.

Simon was frantic, hopping from one foot to another in desperation. In his head he could see Alex as he had left her, small and helpless, her large eyes watching him as he
disappeared
, leaving her alone with only his promise to sustain her. Simon was an excellent runner but not much of a judge of character. In his imagination he was supposed to return like an avenging knight of old, saving her from an unspecified but deeply unpleasant fate and she would smile at him, thank him and tell her colleagues how brave he was. He was so busy with this wonderful outcome he didn’t hear Dave’s voice.

‘Come on Simon, stop dreaming will you? Get in the car – you know where Alex is so we don’t need to be driving around the rest of the night looking for her.’ Glancing over his shoulder at Ada and Tom, Simon trotted off and settled himself in the front seat of the car.

‘Buckle up,’ said Dave turning the key. Simon blinked at him uncomprehending.

‘Seat belt,’ said Dave, ‘Put the damn belt on!’

When the young man started pulling at his waistband, Dave leaned over and tugged the seatbelt around him, fastening him in safely. Simon squeaked and pulled at the fabric and Dave realized he’d probably never ridden in a modern car before.