Life at the End of the Road Read online

  ‘I used to find her sneaking around the graveyard at night. Didn’t seem to realise that the torch she was using was a dead giveaway.’

  ‘In the graveyard? What was she doing there? That doesn’t sound… good.’

  ‘Fear not, it was nothing of ill sorts. Young Laura had an affinity for the local foxes, you see. As I say, Laura was a sweet young thing.’

  His wording made my stomach turn. I started my breathing exercises, slow and steady, and I hoped Art couldn’t hear them from where he was sitting.

  ‘Was?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Rey. I didn’t mean it that way, of course. It’s only been a couple of days, after all. I’m sure she’ll be back in your arms before you know it.’ He repeated that reassuring smile, although its impact was beginning to diminish.

  ‘I should tell you, Rey, I did see her.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Could you have offered this information sooner, maybe?’ I snapped. I caught myself. ‘Sorry… I…. didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘It’s quite alright, Rey. Maybe I could have led with it.’ He sipped his tea. ‘I saw her heading off east from here, down the footpath into the woods.’

  My heart dropped. What with the missing boy, the figure dwelling in the forest, and Laura having been seen heading that way, the big picture was starting to come together.

  ‘Are you ok, Rey? You’ve gone a little white, if I may say so. More white than when I found you earlier.’

  ‘Yeah… it’s just…’

  ‘Go on, Rey, whatever it is, you can tell me. It goes with the job, after all.’

  ‘It sounds a bit… silly, but I’m sure I saw something in the trees.’

  ‘What did you see, Rey?’

  ‘It was… a figure. I dunno how to explain it exactly but it just stood there, staring at me. And it had these horrible red eyes that seemed to glow, or something, and… I dunno, I don’t believe in these things but it seemed to me like… like a…’

  Art smiled to himself. ‘It’s a funny thing: people aren’t scared that they’re alone in the dark, they’re scared that they’re not alone.’

  ‘This was in daylight.’

  ‘Ah. Just a minute ago? Is that why I found you tripping over my graves?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I answered. Art stopped playing and shuffled over to sit on the pew at my side.

  ‘Well, Rey… do you agree that you’re under a great deal of stress right now?’

  ‘Yeah… definitely.’

  ‘Then… that’s probably it, isn’t it? The human mind is capable of conjuring up strange ideas, strange images. If you’re going through a period of extreme stress, then it’s very likely that your mind isn’t acting as it typically does. I don’t mean this as an insult, of course. I think it’s perfectly normal for someone in your position.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess, maybe,’ I answered, appearing to entertain this reasoning. Deep down, however, I still preserved the feeling of pure terror that I’d experienced earlier.

  ‘There you go, son.’ He patted me gently on the back, reassuringly. ‘All these things can be explained.’

  ‘Except for miracles, though, right?’ I asked, instinctively sarcastically.

  Fortunately, Art took this in good faith, and smiled. ‘Except for miracles, yes.’

  ‘When did you see her? Laura, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes.’ Art’s smile seemed to falter for a moment, if nothing more. ‘I saw her the first night she arrived here.’

  He paused, as if expecting this to be a back-and-forth type of conversation, but I was happy for him to recount as many pieces of information as possible - and without any interruption.

  ‘Yes, she… She was heading into the woods, but not before she paid a visit to those teenagers that hang around in the graveyard. I know, Rey, I wouldn’t have considered it the most entertaining place to “hang out” either, but kids will be kids, as they say.’

  Already I was breaking my - temporary - vow of silence. ‘Why would she be talking to kids? Does she know ‘em?’

  ‘I think it’s safe to assume not. While this town may seem small to you, we do see plenty of movement of people around here. People come… people go. Maybe you spend ten years in Redbury, but then the next decade you might move on. Not far, of course, often only to a neighbouring town, but the inhabitants of Redbury do have a certain life cycle, you see? And Laura’s been gone, what, seven years now?’

  ‘Eight.’

  ‘Eight, right, yes. With Laura having been out of town for so long, she won’t necessarily know these kids. Maybe they’re from families that lived in town back then, but what eighteen year old hangs around with eight year olds? Not ones like Laura Kamryn, I can tell you.’

  ‘So why’d you think she was talking to them?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure I wouldn’t know.’ He shook his head aggressively - far more than the question warranted.

  ‘You couldn’t even take a guess?’

  ‘Maybe you’d be best asking them.’

  Art checked his cup for any remaining tea. Presumably there wasn’t any, as he put the cup back down without taking a sip.

  ‘There is…,’ Art began, pausing to gather his thoughts, ‘There is another thing I should perhaps mention.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rey, that it had to come from me…’

  If memory of the shadow in the forest made me go pale, hearing this must have made me go completely white. Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…

  ‘Now you really need to tell me,’ I demanded, trying to remain as outwardly calm as possible.

  ‘She wasn’t… alone, Rey. She was with someone else.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sam Ramsey. Works in the Shop.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve met. Briefly. What’s she doing hanging around with him? Why’s that so significant?’ As I asked this, the heavy pit in my stomach suggested that I already knew the answer that was to come.

  Art shook his head once again. ‘I couldn’t speculate as to the details, but you should know… in their former years, those two were something of an item. Now, I’m not saying that it’s necessarily anything to worry about…’

  Breathe… Breathe… Breathe… Breathe….

  ‘…I saw no indication that there was by any means a romantic relationship between them…’

  Breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe…

  ‘…but I feel I would be amiss to not mention this fact, especially if it proves valuable to you later, and- oh Jesus, are you- I mean, oh gosh, are you ok? Breathe, Rey, try to remain calm, it’s all ok. It’s all ok.’

  He repeated this a few more times, and my brain must have registered it as fact, because I was beginning to return to my normal state - or, at least, my current “normal” state.

  ‘It’s ok, I’m ok,’ I insisted.

  ‘Are you sure, Rey?’ he asked, with seemingly genuine concern in his voice. ‘Maybe another cup of tea will help? It always helps me.’

  Without waiting for a reply, he rushed off once again, back through the same door he’d disappeared through earlier. I was alone once again.

  Art’s news still rang in my ears. Many thoughts and theories started to occur to me.

  What if Laura was reconnecting with an old flame? We’d been having our problems, of course, but was it enough to come to this? Weren’t they problems that we could have overcome together? What if Laura was sick of overcoming problems? I could see why it might be tempting to flee to the arms of a previous lover, perhaps one from a simpler time.

  But it was Max’s death that triggered Laura’s return to Redbury. This surely meant that she wasn’t heading here with another goal in mind, didn’t it? But perhaps his being here was an added bonus.

  Assuming Max’s death was in fact the only reason for her return, what might this news mean? Maybe Sam had done something to her? There would be no better place than the thick woods which lay to the east. But t
hen, Art had said he’d seen her on the first night, which means she must have returned from the forest in order to have that run-in with her mother. I struggled to retain all this information in my mind, or at least struggled to form a coherent string of events. I needed to know more.

  In a confused daze, I stood up from the pew and began for the door, having completely forgotten about Art and the promise of more tea. As I took each step, new questions formed in my mind:

  Why would Laura be hanging around her ex-boyfriend?

  Step.

  Was this unrelated to her disappearance?

  Step.

  If it was related, and Sam was involved somehow, how does it related to the missing boy?

  Step.

  Could Sam have done something to him too?

  Step.

  How much did I really know Laura?

  Step.

  And why on Earth would she be talking to teenagers who have nothing better to do than hang out in graveyards?

  6

  Into the Fire

  It was three thirty in the afternoon when the doorbell rang. Joyce and I had been expecting it to be Rey, who had disappeared earlier in the day without being kind enough to give either one of us any indication where he was headed. We could only assume he was out in town looking for Laura, but without any idea what was going on in his head, searching for him would have been a fruitless effort (even if Redbury was a smaller town, there were many places in which someone could be hidden away).

  When I answered the door, preparing myself to instruct Rey to tell us when he was heading out next time, I was presented with a young girl of maybe twelve years. I vaguely recognised the soft green eyes, but I couldn’t quite place the name.

  ‘Mum’s just on her way,’ the girl announced, ‘You know what she’s like. Slow. Very slow.’ The girl stepped passed me, chucked her coat on to the stand, and walked into the kitchen, opening the fridge.

  At this moment, I recognised her. The very self-assured young woman was Sarah Ainsworth, Laura’s young cousin on her mother’s side. I hadn’t seen Sarah for many years, not since she was in her first or second year of school. I remembered this young girl confidently telling me that she’d already learned everything she needed to know, and so there was no point in her going to school any more (and with the confidence with which she had said it, part of me felt like she might have been on to something).

  ‘Yeah, Mum, you were right, there’s no milk!’ Sarah called out from behind the open fridge door. As she did so, an older woman stepped through the entryway. Olive Ainsworth, Joyce’s sister, greeted me, as ever, with an enthusiastic hug that lasted for longer than most would say is the social norm.

  ‘Anna, how are you? It’s been so long! I love what you’ve done with your hair! When did you change it? And how’s Josh? Are you still with him? And work, how’s that going? Oh, there’s so much we need to catch up on!’ Olive gushed, receiving an eye roll from her daughter in response.

  Olive led me, by arm, away from the door and towards the living room, momentarily leaving the front door wide open, before realising and rushing back to close it. She was just about beaten to the door by her daughter, who closed it with a huff.

  ‘So, yes, Anna, how is everything? Let’s start there, how are you generally?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m alright. Same as it ever was, you know how it is.’

  ‘And work? All good? You always were a smart one, I-’

  Joyce appeared at the threshold of the room, the ghost at the feast, and Olive seemed to remember that Laura was… not necessarily missing, but at least nobody knew where she’d got to. Her face turned to that of concern, and she rushed to her sister’s side, comforting her.

  Half an hour later, Joyce seemed a little less melancholy, as if distracted by her sister’s company, and the four of us sat in the warmth of the sun glistening in through the large Georgian windows. We spoke of typical things: how Sarah was getting on in school, how my work was going, how much of a shame it was that I’d broken up with Josh (who they hadn’t even met, and hadn’t been on the scene a particularly long time anyway).

  This tranquil calm was disturbed when Joyce noticed that it was 1.00pm, and she stood up from her chair with purpose, announcing that she needed to feed Max. Olive and I shared a worried look, and both stepped up to again comfort Joyce as she realised that feeding time was no longer an event she needed to watch out for. Sarah remained seated, studying the situation, unsure of how to help.

  ‘Tea? How about some tea?’ Olive asked, rubbing her sister’s back. ‘Let’s go make some tea, yes?’

  Ah, yes. Tea. I had forgotten how everyone in this town thought that every problem could be solved with hot brown plant water.

  Joyce choked back tears. ‘Yes,’ she responded, her voice high in pitch, ‘I’ll make!’

  Before Olive could insist on helping, Sarah piped up. ‘I’ll come with you, Auntie J.’

  Olive looked fondly at her daughter as Sarah continued talking, maintaining the distraction.

  ‘Such as shame about Max, he was such a lovely little thing.’

  I agreed with Olive. It was a shame. He was lovely. However, there was something I was burning to ask. ‘Did you see him? At all? Since he…’ I trailed off, as there was no need to actually say the word.

  ‘No? Why?’ Olive enquired.

  ‘And Joyce didn’t say anything to you about it? Nothing strange?’

  ‘No.’ Olive’s voice faltered. ‘Is there anything I should know?’

  ‘It might seem like nothing but… his eyes were bright red. Like, I just thought that was worth repeating.’

  Olive went unusually silent, so I continued.

  ‘I don’t know if this is something you’ve seen before, but… I have. Years and years back. A dead fox, with the same eyes.’

  ‘I remember,’ Olive answered, eyes darting towards the living room door. ‘I remember Laura showing me those pictures. Around the time of the fire?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I replied, ‘I guess it was.’ It was becoming increasingly hard to disregard this connection as a line of enquiry (even if it may turn out to be nothing more than a coincidence).

  ‘That was a horrible thing. His mother, used to look after Sarah, you know. When she was younger. After that… well, Rebecca had other things to deal with.’ Olive squirmed in her seat, eyes repeatedly darting to the door.

  ‘Whose mother, sorry? Is everything ok, Olive?’

  ‘Of course, of course!’ she replied, instantly acting cheerier, rambling on, ‘Can’t say I like what they’d done with that part of town that burned down though. All these new builds. Not in keeping with the rest of the town at all, they’re not. We had all these beautiful late-Georgian houses up there, and now, gone, replaced by these horrible orange things. Not a fan at all. Have you seen the one on the end of the road by the church? That one’s particularly bad, with those pillars. And it’s the one on the main road! So everyone passing through town is going to be stuck with that image of the town. Awful, absolutely awful.’

  Sarah and Joyce returned, tea tray in (rather shaky) hands. Olive had successfully talked her way away from the Max / fox conversation.

  Sarah began passing the teas out, Joyce directing which one was for who.

  ‘We were just talking about the new builds, Joyce.’

  ‘Oh, yes, awful things, absolutely awful,’ Joyce concurred.

  ‘And the fire, as well.’ I prodded.

  ‘Ah, yes,’ Olive admitted, ‘the fi-’

  Sarah leaned forward. ‘There was a fire? When? What fire?’

  ‘Up by the church. You know all those buildings that don’t look like they fit in with the rest of the town?’ Joyce offered.

  Sarah stared blankly.

  ‘Albany Way?’ Olive helped.

  ‘Ah right, yeah, I know those ones.’

  Joyce continued, ‘Well, they weren’t always there. There was a fire a good few years back, when you were very young. Burned part of the town down.�
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  ‘Do they know how it started?’ I asked. Having been preoccupied with puberty at the time, I only knew half-answers and semi-truths.

  Joyce and Olive shared a look. The former didn’t seem able to continue. Olive helped out.

  ‘There was a boy, slightly older than you were, so I’m not sure if you knew him. They’d only recently moved to the town at the time. They say he started it. He must have been… deeply troubled.’

  ‘Did they arrest him?’ Sarah asked.

  ‘Sadly… no. There wasn’t anyone to arrest.’

  Sarah looked confused for a moment, then read the answer on our sullen faces.

  ‘Who was he?’ Sarah continued.

  ‘William Myerscough.’ Olive answered.

  ‘…The Burning Boy,’ Joyce added, under her breath. She stared into her teacup. Despite wanting more answers, I could see that this topic of conversation was distressing Joyce (possibly due to the obvious parallels between the boy and Laura).

  ‘Great tea, Joyce.’ I complimented.

  ‘It was Sarah.’

  ‘Oh,’ I paused. ‘Great tea, Sarah.’

  She smiled sadly at me. There was a lull in conversation.

  ‘Good of you to come up, Annie.’ Olive added, seemingly more to fill this void than for any other reason.

  I waved a think-nothing-of-it hand her way. ‘Of course. It was Rey, really, who brought me up so quickly.’

  Sarah’s eyes lit up and she sat forward in her seat. ‘Rey’s here? Where is he?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘We couldn’t tell you. He didn’t tell us where he was going.’

  ‘Is he coming back soon?’ she followed up.

  ‘We don’t know. Maybe.’

  Olive stood up, left the room, and could be heard walking towards the bathroom. Sarah and I continued making polite chatter while Joyce piped up occasionally, until I heard the toilet flush. With this signal, I also rose from the settee, intending to take the opportunity to confront Olive alone. As she left the bathroom, I grabbed Olive by the arm and took her aside for a moment, away from prying ears.

  ‘The mother. Of the kid who burned those houses down. Rebecca, I think you said? Is she still around?’ I asked.