Читать книгу The One Who Got Away - L.A. Detwiler - Страница 10

West Green, Crawley, West Sussex

13 June 1959

‘Adeline Walker, you aren’t going, so I don’t know why you bothered taking all that time to get ready,’ my mother spits. I gawk at her as she twirls the pearl earrings in her lobes. I think about how her red lips and eyeshadow are way too much, even for a woman like her. Hand on her hip, she stands at the other side of our dining room table, her eyes lasering into me as if she can cause me to spontaneously combust.

I stare vehemently back. ‘For Christ’s sake, Mum, I’m nineteen. You can’t keep me hostage forever, especially if you’re so damn worried about me being a spinster.’

‘Adeline Walker, you will not speak to me like that in my house.’

‘Then maybe I’ll scurry on out of Dad’s house,’ I spew back, putting the emphasis on Dad. She hates that I’m a daddy’s girl. I think it makes her jealous that he gives me more attention than her.

‘Enough. Now look. I know you have these lovely plans, but I’m sorry. With no updates from the police on Elizabeth’s killer, it’s not safe.’

I raise an eyebrow. ‘Weren’t you the one who swore up and down that moving to West Green would be just lovely when you pulled me out of school three years ago to come to this beastly town?’

‘That’s enough, Adeline. I hope someday you realise what you have here. Two parents who love you, a father with a good job. Honestly. What more could you want?’

‘To go on my date with Charles and have a little fun.’

‘Fun is what got you into trouble in the last town, if you recall. I won’t have you ruining your reputation again. It’s been three years, Adeline. Three years since we had to move away. You were lucky we could run away from it all last time. I won’t have you ruining yourself now.’

I roll my eyes, anger flaring at the mention of what happened. I was young. I was a little reckless, yes. But I was a girl who followed her heart.

‘You act like I murdered someone,’ I spew.

‘It could’ve been worse. If we’d stayed, you’d have actually ended up pregnant at sixteen. And then what?’

‘We’re not talking about this,’ I argue. I hate when she brings up the past. I shudder at her words, thinking about all that she doesn’t know. All that’s happened since we moved to West Green. All that’s happened in the past few months.

I return my focus to the conversation at hand. ‘Well, you should be chuffed then, Mother, that I’m getting serious. I’m nineteen, and I’m in a serious, steady relationship. After all, isn’t that what you want? You did mention that West Green could provide me with a “suitable man”, didn’t you?’

Mother rolls her eyes, sighing. ‘A factory worker isn’t exactly what I had in mind.’

I sneer at her blatant disdain towards Charles Evans, who hails from Langley Green and not money. This infuriates my mother to no end. When she meant we could find me a “suitable man” here in West Green, I believe she was hoping we’d find one from a wealthy family who was naive about my somewhat lacklustre background. A man like Oliver, whom mother still thinks I have a chance of reconciling with. If only she knew the truth.

Instead, to her dismay, I’d met Charles Evans at the train station in Northgate. I suppose at first she thought he was a phase, a rebound after Oliver. But three months later, I think she knows better. I think she sees what I’ve known since that first night – Charles is the one I love. And she couldn’t be more peeved at the thought of her daughter marrying a working-class man with no social standing. If I’m being honest, this only makes Charles even more appealing to me.

‘All the more reason for me to go out tonight. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen?’ I ask, fiddling with my nails.

‘You could end up dead. Aren’t you a little bit afraid? Elizabeth lived a few streets over. I’m quite alarmed. The killer’s still out there. He’s probably just waiting for his next victim. I won’t have my only daughter be one of his tallies.’ She crosses her arms in a defiant, dramatic gesture. Of course, she would make Elizabeth’s murder about us. It always has to be about us.

‘Better to be murdered than courting some factory boy, huh?’ I ask defiantly, awaiting the tumultuous explosion that is certain to come.

‘Don’t be dim. You barely even know this bloke. With a girl dead in town – murdered –you can’t be too careful.’

‘Mum, are you really suggesting that Charles had something to do with Elizabeth?’ I shake my head, incredulous. This is ridiculous, even by Nora Walker standards.

‘I’m just saying you barely know him.’ She tosses her hands up as if she’s truly innocent.

I roll my eyes. ‘So because you deem him too poor for our standards, you toss murder accusations around? You’re off your trolley.’

‘And you’re making some bloody awful choices,’ she stabs back, her words harsh and angry.

‘I don’t care what you say. I’m going. Charles will be with me. We’re just going for a quick stroll, after all. We won’t be gone long. Besides, with all the roaming patrols around, the killer would be a fool to strike again. And I’m no Elizabeth, anyway. The girl always was a bit of a muggins, if you ask me.’

‘Adeline, how dare you speak of the dead that way. Where are your manners?’ Mum uncrosses her arms, leaning on the chair nearby. I avert my eyes to the ground. I always go too far. I always take it way too far.

‘Sorry, Mum. You’re right,’ I admit, sighing, fiddling with my hands. ‘It’s awful what happened. She didn’t deserve that, no matter what.’ My words are sombre, my guilt real.

Not that I’d ever admit it to my mother, but I do feel a bit anxious about the whole thing. It’s not every day you hear about someone from your town being murdered and chopped up, her body dumped in some skip like a discarded sandwich. I shiver at the thought, imagining Elizabeth’s sweet face, her long brown hair, as she was hacked into pieces and shoved in a trunk. What did she feel in those last moments? When did she know it was all over? Did she suffer? I take a deep breath, disturbed by the thought of it all. In my opinion, she was too goody two-shoes for her own good. But she didn’t deserve to die. Not like that.

I think about what Mum said. She’s probably right. The psycho is probably still out there, lurking in a corner, waiting for someone else to add to his tally. Elizabeth had no enemies. None. Everyone thought of her as sweeter than sweet, and there was no one who would want revenge. Plus, only a true psychopath would do that to a body. Bite marks? That’s bloody terrifying.

For a moment, I think that maybe I should stay home. Maybe I should tell Charles I can’t make it out. Then again, I miss him. I want to spend time with him away from mother’s scowl and her scrutinising gaze. You can’t live your life in fear, I suppose. Besides, with Charles Evans, I know I’m safe. He’ll protect me.

‘Does this mean you’re staying home?’ Mother asks, the I-win look painting itself on her face. Her ruby red lips widen as she prepares for my confession of defeat.

I raise my gaze to meet hers. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I snap.

She groans. ‘Adeline Walker, honestly,’ she bellows, but I march to the front door to grab a light pullover from the hook.

‘Goodnight, Mum. Be sure to lock the door. Wouldn’t want you to go missing, would we?’ I tuck myself into the pullover, yank open the door, and offer her a little wave as she gapes at me.

And before Mum can chase after me, I dash out the door to wait for Charles. He is the escape from my house I desperately need.

***

‘Surprised your mother let you leave the house,’ Charles says a few minutes later when he finds me outside of a house just down the street, near the church. He slides to a stop on his bicycle, propping it against the wall after he dismounts.

I sit on the wall near the hedges, staring up at the sky, my feet kicking against the stones as I wait for him to come over to me. He helps me off the wall, wrapping his arms around me as he kisses me boldly on the lips. I giggle when he pulls away, happy to see him.

‘She’s probably got the whole town out looking for me by now,’ I say as I turn to look at him, his hand in mine as we walk on. His dark hair is slicked back and his steel-blue eyes shimmer in the sunlight.

‘Well, Addy, you can’t blame her, can you? It’s all the town’s been talking about since Elizabeth went missing. All the investigations, all the questions. Just has everyone on edge. And now with the body found and the bloody bastard on the loose, well, I understand why she’s worried, you know? You need to be careful.’

Charles wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for another kiss as we pause in the middle of the walkway. I like how his rough, manly hands wrap around my waist, how his lips feel on mine. I’m consumed by him, by us. He is nothing like Oliver Parsons, the mistake I dated before Charles. No, Charles is different, a working man, a strong man. A kind man. With him, I feel safe, even with a potential homicidal lunatic on the loose.

‘Usual route?’ he asks as we walk down the path, past the rows of houses and the few construction sites around. I shudder when we pass a skip, thinking about Elizabeth.

‘Absolutely,’ I reply, smiling as we walk under the blue sky towards our destination.

We stroll on, gallivanting towards the town centre, neighbours waving as they scatter about. Charles and I are a common sight these days, him calling on me whenever his relief from work at the factory allows it, to my mother’s true agitation.

Charles tells me about his workday as I listen, interested in the other side of his life I can’t begin to understand. Mum thinks it’s improper for a girl like me to work. After all, she reminds me, Dad’s job is good enough that neither of us need even dream of working. She thinks that’s fortunate. A part of me thinks that’s a shame. It would be interesting to get out of the house and to have somewhere to be.

When we reach the town centre, I glance around at the neighbours wandering around, caught up in their own activities. The shops are bustling with activity today. In our travels, though, we see several constables patrolling, reminding us that a lot has changed. I shove aside thoughts of Elizabeth once more as we take a seat on a bench outside of the post office, stopping to people watch and to catch up.

‘Addy, hello,’ a voice says, and I turn to see my best friend, Phyllis Barnes, skipping over. She waves, her mum by her side. Her mum offers a smile, but I notice she studies Charles with interest. Phyllis’ mother and mine are close friends, so I’m sure she’s heard quite a bit about how inappropriate of a match Charles is for me. I brush the thought aside.

‘What are you two doing?’ Phyllis asks, sliding over beside me as I budge up to make room. Charles nods at her politely.

‘Just escaping from the clutches of Mum,’ I reply honestly. Phyllis groans, knowing what my mum is really like. Phyllis knows a lot of things about me, things no one else does. I lean on her shoulder, happy to see her.

‘Lucky you. Wish I could find a bloke of my own. Charles, have any mates in the factory?’ she asks.

‘Got a few looking for someone to be sweet on. I’ll check with them. One commutes to work with me.’

‘You do know there are some jobs opening up in Manor Royal, don’t you?’ she asks. ‘Would be good if you’re thinking of settling down, you know?’ Phyllis winks at me, and I shake my head. She’s been obsessed with asking if Charles is going to propose. I assure her over and over we’re not at that stage yet, but secretly, I can’t help hoping, wondering where it will all go, if we’ll settle in Crawley. Although being close to my mother would be an annoyance at times, it would be enjoyable to perhaps see her discomfort at her precious daughter marrying a ‘commoner’ – although even with Dad’s advertising job, we’re far from the royalty she so believes. You’d think we’re descendants of the Queen herself.

‘So,’ I reply, trying to change the subject.

‘Terrible thing, that story about Elizabeth, huh? Such a sweet girl. Honestly. Who would do something so awful to her? I overheard my dad talking to Mum about it. Said the bite marks were deep and bloody and all over the girl. Even on her unmentionables. Disgraceful, isn’t it? Can you imagine? And to chop her up and put her in the skip like rubbish. I don’t even understand. It all just makes me ill,’ Phyllis says.

My stomach churns at the thought. Phyllis’ dad is one of the constables, so she gets all sorts of inside information. Today’s, though, sends a shiver through me. I find my eyes darting around, as if at any moment, the killer could jump out and strangle me. Suddenly, the town that once felt dull feels lethal.

‘They have any leads? Any motives?’ I prod, squeezing Charles’ hand for comfort. He squeezes it back, a gesture I’ve come to love in our few months together.

Phyllis shakes her head. ‘That’s the truly scary part. They’ve got nothing. Nothing at all. Whoever did it has covered his tracks well. I don’t know if anyone has any idea. But golly, isn’t it just terrifying? The killer out on the loose? Do you think he’ll strike again?’

I touch Phyllis’ hand, mostly to comfort myself. ‘I’m sure it will be okay. There’s no reason to believe it will happen again. Who knows, maybe Elizabeth was mixing in the wrong crowd, you know?’

Phyllis raises an eyebrow. ‘You know you don’t believe that.’

I sigh, admitting she’s right. There’s no one in the world let alone West Green who could believe that saintly girl – too saintly for my liking, sometimes – would have any enemies.

After some small talk about cheerier topics, Phyllis parts ways with us, heading off to catch up to her mother near the front of the market. Charles and I stay put, me leaning on his shoulder, taking in the sights of the town beside him. As always, I search for that disgusting face. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve encountered Oliver’s rage, mercifully, and he’s never been bold enough to harass me in public. For that, at least, I can be thankful. Still, it’s always in the back of my mind that someday, that all might change. It wouldn’t do at all to have him around Charles. It doesn’t do to have him lurking about me, either.

Eventually, we rise from the bench, and I stretch in the rays of the sun. Charles and I pass the hour hand in hand, walking and talking, kissing and revelling in each other. When he drops me off later, tipping his hat to Mum, she simply glares, not even extending a dinner invitation as would be proper. No matter. Charles kisses me on the cheek, promises to call on me again as soon as he can, and heads to the church to retrieve his bicycle and ride home.

Dad returns home well after dark, as usual, and Mum expresses her fears to him about my gallivanting about with a murderer on the loose. As always, Dad manages to calm Mum, winking at me over her head as he hugs her and soothes her. At least one of my parents is somewhat likeable.

Later, when I head to bed, sitting at my desk by the window to peer out onto our street, my mind wanders to what Phyllis told me about the murder. Bite marks in all sorts of places – disturbing. Haunting. Who would do such a thing? To think it happened here, in West Green, this laid-back, lacklustre town.

I lean against the window, staring out into the drizzly night when suddenly, I clutch my chest. Squinting, I lean closer to the murky glass, the hazy rain and darkness making it difficult to see, even with the streetlight. Still, as my heart beats wildly and I peer into the darkness, I’m certain that I’m not mistaken.

Across the street, a shadowy figure stands on the walkway, studying the McConnel house. It’s too dark to make out who it is or what the person is doing, but even from here I’m certain it’s a male figure due to the bulk of his stature. A lump forms in my throat as the figure turns, as if peering up at me. I shudder, trying to make out the face but unable to as suddenly, the person turns and walks casually away.

What was that? Who was it? I wonder, tears forming as panic rises. Is it – no, it can’t be. He must have calmed down by now. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen him. Time has dulled his resolve to get retribution, hasn’t it? But could the figure be someone else with even more sinister intent than Oliver? After all, Oliver’s a monster in his own right. But even he wouldn’t stoop to such horrific levels as the maniac who killed Elizabeth – would he? It’s a terrifying prospect, thinking that anyone in this town would be capable of such an atrocity. I think of Elizabeth’s mangled body tossed in the skip like rubbish, her face contorted. I shudder. I think about waking up my parents, to tell them what I’ve seen. But what have I seen? A person in the street? Nothing criminal, of course. I’m sure it’s just my weary brain panicking due to all the paranoia in town. That’s all. Who wouldn’t be bothered by the thought of Elizabeth in pieces? We’re all on edge. And when one’s on edge, the mind doesn’t hesitate to play warped tricks.

I crawl into bed, talking myself down. I take a deep breath and count, one, two, three, just like Mum always told me to do when I was nervous. As a child, I was often panicky, my heart racing at odd moments. She always taught me to count to three and to let it all go with the exhale of breath.

When I close my eyes, I reassure myself. No sense in getting my parents worked up over nothing. It was just a person in the street. Gosh, it was probably a constable patrolling, after all. Elizabeth was an unfortunate tragedy, but nothing more. It will all be fine. West Green is a safe place to live. But as I drift off to sleep that night thinking about Charles, I know the dreams that come will be more like nightmares as the terror from recent events settles into my chest, my bones, and my heart.