Читать книгу No Turning Back: The can’t-put-it-down thriller of the year - Tracy Buchanan, Tracy Buchanan - Страница 11

‘Get back inside,’ Anna’s gran called over her shoulder. ‘Lock the door, call the police.’

‘No,’ Anna said, striding down the path towards Florence as the angry-looking crowd throbbed in front of them.

‘You’re Anna Graves?’ Elliot’s father shouted at her, his red hair like blood under the moonlight.

‘No, she isn’t,’ Florence said, shaking her head. ‘You’ve got the wrong person.’

‘Liar,’ Elliot’s father hissed at her.

He strode towards Anna. Florence tried to get in the way but he pushed her aside.

‘Gran!’ Anna went to help her but Elliot’s father grabbed her with one hand, using his free one to look at his phone as Anna struggled against him.

She caught sight of the screen. It was a tweet featuring the publicity shot the station always used of her – one eyebrow wryly raised, arms crossed, long brown hair smooth and shiny. Below it were the words: ‘BREAKING NEWS: Mother who killed Elliot Nunn is named as local radio presenter, Anna Graves.’

She looked out at the crowd. There were about twenty people on the beach, jeering at her, glaring at her, hatred in their eyes.

She saw her gran try to pull herself up, wincing slightly.

Anna fumbled in the pocket of her cardigan, finding the door keys. She pulled them out, jutting one between her two fingers and pointing it at Elliot’s father’s face.

‘Let go of me,’ she hissed.

‘What you going to do, knife me?’ the man spat. ‘Not young enough though, am I? You only kill innocent school kids, right?’ He dragged her towards the crowd, her bare feet scraping against the pebbles. ‘Elliot’s murdering bitch is here!’ he shouted to everyone.

More people started jogging over from the direction of The Docks. Anna stumbled backwards but the man grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully. ‘You’re not going anywhere, child killer.’

‘Please, I didn’t mean it, please,’ she said, the reality dawning on her that she might get hurt, that her gran already was.

People drew closer, gathering around her. Someone flicked her face, another kicking the back of her legs and making her buckle. One man with tattoos on his folded arms watched with hatred in his eyes.

She heard Florence cry out her name and Anna struggled desperately to get to her but couldn’t match Elliot’s father’s strength.

‘Wait!’ a woman shouted. Anna looked up to see a woman walking through the crowds towards her.

Elliot’s mother.

Part of Anna felt relief. Was his mother going to stop them? But then Anna saw the look in her eyes.

‘Is it true?’ Elliot’s mother said, grabbing Anna’s chin and looking her in the eye, her breath stinking of cigarettes.

‘He tried to kill my baby,’ Anna said. ‘I had no choice.’

‘You killed my baby,’ she said. ‘So now I don’t have any choice, do I?’

People laughed, even cheered. The man with the tattoos just continued glaring at her. It was even more chilling than the laughter.

The two mothers stared at each other. Beneath the rage, Anna saw the gaping hole of loss and desperation in the woman’s eyes. She wanted to hold her, so foolish, she knew. But maybe, more than anyone here, Anna had got the closest to experiencing how she felt, the hint of that acidic loss she’d have felt if Joni had been killed. It occurred to her in that moment how ironic that was, to be the one who might understand…and yet to also be the one to have taken her son from her.

‘Please,’ Anna pleaded. ‘You must understand why I had to try to protect myself.’

His mother’s face softened for a moment. Then her husband whispered something in her ear. She looked down and Anna followed her gaze.

Elliot’s father had slipped a small knife into his wife’s hand.

Anna closed her eyes, thought of Joni. If this was the sacrifice she needed to make to have saved Joni, so be it.

‘Open your eyes,’ Elliot’s father shouted in her face.

But Anna kept her eyes squeezed shut, felt the crowd close in. Someone yanked off the gauze on her cheek and she felt the cool breeze slice over her wound.

Then her foot was swiped from beneath her and she fell to the ground, darkness descending.

A man pulled her up, the man with tattooed arms. He was in his late twenties, fair hair, stubbled cheeks, fierce blue eyes blinking down at her in the semi-darkness. His fingers sank painfully into her arm.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ she whispered.

His eyes ran over her scar, brow creasing.

‘Go!’ he suddenly hissed, shoving her away. ‘Get inside, lock the doors, both of you.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Elliot’s father shouted at him. ‘The child killer’s staying and she’s getting what she deserves.’

Elliot’s father tried to shove Anna’s rescuer out of the way but the young man stayed rock still. ‘Just. Fucking. Go. Run!’ he shouted into Anna’s face.

Anna looked into his blue eyes for a moment then she grabbed her gran and stumbled into the house.

Anna sat in the kitchen nursing a cup of tea as Florence talked to a police officer. Her gran was fine, just a bruised leg. She’d been more intent on tending to Anna’s wounded cheek when they got in, placing a new gauze over it.

Anna’s phone rang and rang, no doubt friends and colleagues discovering she was the mother who killed Elliot Nunn. But she ignored it, instead focusing on the sound of the waves sloshing against the pebbles outside, her eyes straying towards the lighthouse in the distance and the pile of rocks…the same rocks her father had died on.

She thought of the rage in Elliot’s father’s eyes, the grief in his mother’s. She thought of the man who’d helped her, felt his fingertips on her wrists still. He’d been among the crowd. Why had he decided to help her? What would have happened if he hadn’t?

She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

‘Right, I think that’s everything,’ the police officer said, closing his notepad. ‘Can you stay anywhere else, Mrs Graves? Maybe somewhere a bit more out of the way? What about your mother’s house, isn’t that on the edge of town?’

Anna exchanged a look with Florence.

‘I can’t,’ Anna said.

‘Maybe you should?’ Florence said. ‘I know it’s not ideal. But your safety is important.’

Anna looked into her gran’s eyes. She felt as though she were going back in time, being forced to live at that bungalow after a terrible tragedy. But what choice did she have?

‘What about you?’ she asked Florence. ‘Will you be safe here?’

‘They’re not interested in your grandmother,’ the police officer said.

‘Fine,’ Anna said with a sigh. ‘Any idea how they knew I was here?’ she asked the police officer.

‘No, ’fraid not.’

After he left, Florence helped her pack. ‘Do you think Ben Miller said something? He could have easily seen you walk to the house from the newsagents.’

Anna shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t, he’s a good kid.’

Her gran shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Anna sighed. ‘Maybe you’re right, maybe Ben did tell people. And if so, it’s all my fault everyone found me here. I shouldn’t have talked to him. I put myself in danger, I put Joni in danger. Jesus.’ Anna slumped down on the bed. ‘Is this what it’s going to be like from now on, baying crowds on my doorstep?’

Florence sat next to her, placing her plump arm around her shoulders. ‘The police won’t let it get to that.’

‘I hope not. I really do.’

They both sat quietly for a few moments then Florence clapped her hands. ‘Right, let’s get this finished then get you to your mother’s. Who knows, maybe it will be good for you both to live together for a few days?’

Anna raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’

Florence sighed. ‘I can but dream.’

When Anna got to the bungalow half an hour later, her mother disappeared into the kitchen mumbling something about the washing up. So Anna took her bags to her old room. The light from the hallway streamed into the gloom, picking out the shiny red radio taking pride of place on a shelf filled with books and collected shells; the tape recorder still home to the mock news reports she used to make; the photo of her dad taken at the beach, caught by surprise, a smile on his face, his dark hair lifting in the wind. All those smiles disappeared when he was investigating the Ophelia Killer. He’d been so caught up in it all, he hadn’t seen the depression sneaking up on him. It was like Anna earlier, questioning Ben Miller, putting everything at risk to get a few pointless answers. All she’d done was put her and Joni in danger. Her gran too.

‘I made you tea.’

She turned to see her mother standing in the hallway, a flowery cracked mug in her hand.

She walked over and took it. ‘Thanks, Mum. And thanks for letting me stay.’

‘Why wouldn’t I? You’re my daughter.’ Beatrice peered towards the window. ‘There’s a woman hanging around outside, that little blonde friend you used to have at school.’

Anna frowned. ‘You mean Yvonne Fry?’ Her mother nodded. ‘Great, the press are already on to me. Don’t answer if she knocks.’

‘I won’t.’

Anna looked around her. ‘I thought you would have cleared all this out by now.’

‘I keep meaning to.’

Anna passed her fingers over the tape recorder. ‘I used to love this thing.’

‘Your father made me buy it for your birthday. I didn’t like it.’

‘Why not?’

‘I knew what it would start.’

‘Start what?’

‘You following him into journalism.’

Her mother had never been keen about Anna following in her father’s footsteps considering what it had done to his stress levels.

‘I’ve been proved right,’ her mother continued.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Your name all over the papers, people targeting you, like earlier.’

‘That has nothing to do with what I do. Even if I wasn’t a radio presenter, I’d still be targeted for what I did.’

‘To this extent? I think not, Anna. It gives you a sense of godliness, doesn’t it?’

Anna shook her head in confusion. ‘Excuse me?’

Her mother clenched and unclenched her fists. ‘I’m not sure you would have killed the boy if it weren’t for the confidence your job and status gives you. The knowledge that every decision you make is the right one.’

‘I had no choice! I didn’t decide to kill him. The only decision I made was to protect my child.’

‘Do you really believe that, Anna? I can see the doubt in your eyes, the guilt. Was it really a natural instinct to protect?’

Anna grabbed her bags. ‘It was a mistake coming here.’

Beatrice strode towards her, putting her hand on her arm, her eyes pleading with hers. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t go.’

Anna looked into her mother’s eyes. Why couldn’t they just have a normal relationship?

‘Please, Anna.’ Beatrice’s hand slipped away from Anna’s and she twisted her fingers around each other, biting her lip as she looked outside. ‘You know how I get, the stress, it makes me – me—’ She shook her head. ‘It’s very difficult for me, Anna, very difficult.’

Then she left the room.

Anna sank down onto her bed. How long would she be able to stand staying here with her mother?

Anna peered down at Joni as she strode along one of Ridgmont Waters’ cobbled back streets. Joni was sitting in her new pushchair, the seat now angled so she was facing Anna. Joni smiled up at her and Anna felt herself relax. People she knew greeted her, some stopping her to praise her for how she’d protected herself. It was over two weeks since her name had got out, and the reaction from the public and the press had been overwhelmingly positive. Newspaper columnists were talking about Anna’s ‘bravery and compassion’, the Daily Mail even calling her ‘lioness mother protecting her cub’. Her old school friend Yvonne had tried to grab her for an interview one day when she walked out of her mother’s house to put some rubbish out. But she’d made it clear she wouldn’t be giving interviews. Yvonne had surprised her by being quite aggressive about it, following her up the path. In the end, she’d written a positive story too, if a little more lukewarm than the others.

Twitter notifications had been filled with messages of support as well, mainly people praising her for ‘taking a stand against the scum’. And all her friends and colleagues had emailed or texted with praise and admiration.

Anna sighed. Was Elliot Nunn really ‘scum’? Even if he had tried to kill Joni, he was still a kid himself. What exactly had driven him to that point, what sort of life must he have led? The more Anna found out about his family, the more she despaired. His father clearly had anger issues, and his mother seemed very fragile.

She’d been too scared to leave the bungalow until now, remembering the look of rage on Elliot’s father’s face. But it wasn’t fair on Joni to stay cooped up inside. More importantly, she had to get away from her mother. Two weeks inside the bungalow brought back too many memories, memories now turned into her day-to-day reality as she struggled to cope with her mother’s up and down moods, one minute distant and brooding, the next non-stop chatter about pointless things like the birds in the trees and the colour of the sky, anything but what Anna was going through.

And anyway, people from The Docks didn’t tend to venture into the village due to the huge shopping centre on their doorstep catering to their needs. This more upmarket part of Ridgmont Waters was quiet, people letting others get on with their lives. They were used to seeing the occasional famous face here, the large holiday homes overlooking the beach nearby attracting the rich and famous over the summer holidays.

Anna walked into a small seaside cafe. It had recently attracted new owners, the once dry sandwiches and warm lemonades replaced by sharing platters and unusually flavoured ice creams.

She walked through towards the small veranda at the back which overlooked the beach. Nathan was already out there on one of the white iron tables, signing a woman’s napkin. Anna frowned. So much for villagers not intruding.

Nathan noticed Anna walk outside and jumped up, manoeuvring a chair so Anna could get the pushchair in. People glanced up as she passed, recognition flickering in their eyes. But they quickly returned to their Sunday papers and Anna took a breath of relief.

‘Look at you,’ Nathan said, taking his sunglasses off and smiling at Joni. She giggled and grabbed his hand. ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’

‘She is,’ Anna said, finding a highchair in the corner and lifting Joni into it, safe and snug. ‘My gorgeous perfect little girl, aren’t you?’

‘Mama!’ Joni exclaimed.

Nathan laughed. ‘She seems well. How did the visit from social services go last week?’

‘Short and sweet. It was clear they were just there to tick some boxes.’

‘Good,’ he said. ‘And how are you? You look tired.’

Anna thought of the restless nights, dreams filled with blood and Elliot’s dying blue eyes.

‘Not sleeping great, as you’d expect,’ she said as she sat down. ‘But things are starting to feel a bit more normal.’

‘Good. We’re still getting lots of emails in to the show.’

‘I’ve been listening. Georgia’s doing a great job,’ Anna said, referring to the news anchor who’d temporarily taken over from her.

‘Yes, she’s great, I’ve always liked Georgia.’ Nathan raised an eyebrow. ‘But she’s not you, Anna.’

‘You’re too kind.’ The waitress came up and Anna ordered an iced coffee and lemon drizzle cake as she pulled some snacks out for Joni. In the distance, the sea was calm, the skies bright blue. The heatwave hadn’t really let up, but it was more bearable than previous days. People sat in the village’s distinctive fuchsia pink deckchairs that dotted the seafront. A child ran along it with a red flag in the air, his father laughing as he followed him. A golden retriever jumped in and out of the waves, yapping at them. Beyond, the lighthouse watched over them all, its windows twinkling in the sun.

It almost felt like a normal day.

‘There’s an article about Elliot Nunn’s brother in the Sun today,’ Nathan said, quirking an eyebrow as he jutted his chin towards a newspaper being read by an elderly couple on the beach. ‘Bit of a local criminal, apparently.’

Anna followed his gaze to see the newspaper he was referring to, a large photo of a man staring out from it. Anna let out a gasp. It was the same man who’d helped her when Elliot’s parents had confronted her a couple of weeks before.

‘What’s wrong?’ Nathan asked.

‘That’s not Elliot Nunn’s brother, is it?’ Nathan nodded. Anna frowned. Elliot’s brother had helped her? But why?

‘What’s wrong, Anna?’ Nathan asked.

Anna shook her head. ‘Nothing. Let’s change the subject, shall we?’

Nathan smiled. ‘Of course. So what are your thoughts about coming back to work?’

Anna looked at him, alarmed. ‘Now?’

‘Maybe in a month or so, whenever suits you.’

‘It’s not ideal, is it, the person reading the news being the news?’

‘Exactly what we discussed yesterday. But we have a solution! You could work behind the scenes, you’ve done it before when you had laryngitis and couldn’t talk, remember?’

Anna gave Joni her sippy cup and fanned her hot cheeks with the menu. ‘Aren’t there rules about employees who’ve been involved in an incident like this?’

He shrugged. ‘You were released with no charge. It’ll be good for you, Anna. You can get some semblance of a normal life back. You’ll miss Joni, I’m sure, but I’m only suggesting part-time to start with, maybe a couple of days a week. Plus there’s the money too.’

Anna sighed. He was right. Guy paid maintenance for Joni but it was now up to her to cover the mortgage on a house she wasn’t even able to live in and everything else.

Joni threw a handful of mashed banana onto the floor. Anna thought about Nathan’s offer as she leaned down to wipe the banana up. Regardless of the money, could she really leave Joni to go to work, even if it was for a few hours and even if she’d be left with family, either Florence or the nursery her mother-in-law owned? It was already so difficult when Guy had her. But Nathan was right, she needed the money…and she needed a semblance of normality.

‘There’s a lot to think about. Can I let you know in a few days?’ she asked.

‘Of course.’ Nathan took a sip of his latte and leaned back in his chair. ‘Did I tell you about what Heather said to me the other day?’

As they gossiped about work, Anna felt herself relax. Maybe life could begin to feel normal?

In fact, Anna felt so relaxed after her coffee with Nathan that she decided to stay out a little longer, strolling down the beach front under the sun, popping into the boutique shops to browse. It almost felt like she was back to her old life, before the terrible day Elliot Nunn had died. Anna batted that thought away and headed to her favourite second-hand bookshop, flicking through the books that were laid out on the long tables outside, the sea breeze providing some respite from the growing heat.