The Grave Part 6

Chapter 26.

The Land Rover slipped and slithered over the humps and rocks, even the four wheel drive wasn't enough on this surface to make the ride secure. Sylvie clung to the strap above the door with one hand while the other braced against the dash board. The headlights flared on wet gra.s.s one moment, the tunnel of brightness startling against the dark, and then as the car was launched from a b.u.mp or boulder the beams would swing upward illuminating nothing but a sparkling curtain of slanting rain.

Samuel was tight with tension beside her, his hands locked around the wheel the muscles of his neck and jaw knotted with stress and his eyes peering through the streaming windscreen...

When the willow fell it swept to the surface of the engorged torrent in a graceful swoon. The roots wrenched from the ground flinging mud, pebbles, small boulders and the moss and gra.s.s of the bank skywards. The whipping branches flew across the water to be grabbed and hurled downstream till their anchorage on the great trunk stayed them. They streamed in the flood great ribbons squirming and writhing in the dark water.

The river gushed into the hollow, was.h.i.+ng away loose earth and debris and engulfing the tarpaulin and the body within. The recently loosened soil of the deep pit Samuel had dug swept away into the stream and the package moved and s.h.i.+fted, floating now, knocking against the sides of the grave. This rain had been heavier than for more than a century, ground water from the hills and uplands gushed towards the coast raising the levels to beyond any in living memory. Eventually the ghastly parcel floated free of its berth, turned into the surge and bobbing and weaving on the currents it headed seaward with the rest of the debris...

The car raced over the gra.s.s and gravel until they connected with a narrow dirt road, with his intimate knowledge of the area Samuel was able to drive on sidelights, hurtling through the storm. He glanced into the rear view mirror repeatedly and Sylvie swung round in the seat whenever the lurching ride allowed but neither saw any sign of a following vehicle.

After ten minutes they had reached a smooth metalled road, it was narrow and slippery in the wet but the driving was easier and the fear inside the little cab eased. Sylvie's hands dropped to her lap and she leaned back against the seat. Samuel rotated his neck and shoulders easing his muscles and they glanced at each other and grinned, it was close to hysteria but it felt like a victory.

"We need to get away and I think the best thing would be to go somewhere with plenty of people. I'm heading for Liverpool. It's about two hours we'll use the motorway. The main thing now is to stay in the open."

"But what about the police, I thought we were trying to keep away from public places.?"

"The game changed Sylvie. The police have probably no reason to even be looking for us yet. I had hoped we could get out of the country before Phil was missed but this is a different thing. This is me and what's happened to me."

He turned to look at her; his face was drawn and though the tension of a few minutes ago had eased, his eyes were tortured. She clenched her fists; she would ease this for him, open things up and straighten the tortured pathway.

"While you were out I looked around the house Samuel. I didn't mean to pry but I was bored. Anyway, whatever, I found the room, the nursery and a picture."

He drew in a quick breath, letting it go again as a sharp exhalation, she saw him swallow.

"I found a picture, you and a woman, a lovely woman. Pregnant I think."

"Marie."

The name crept from his lips, like a prayer or an invocation, barely heard above the rumble of the engine and the shush of the tyres on the wet surface. Sylvie reached across and touched his leg. He nodded briefly, just one small incline of his head. The door was open; it was time to examine the truth.

Chapter 27.

Bobbing and rolling the sodden tarpaulin bundle sailed through the night. The cord Samuel had used to secure the ends began to unravel and the plastic sheet flapped against the wavelets.

It was noticed on the journey three times even though the night was black and it rained on, easier now but still torrential.

A farmer driving his beasts from the inundated fields flashed a torch beam over the banks and the running water. He was seeking stranded cattle and the pa.s.sing shadow hardly registered, it wasn't his concern, his threatened herd filled his mind.

A policeman standing watch on an ancient bridge noted the thing as it snagged on the substructure drawing his gaze. At another time he would have climbed down, poked and pulled at the strange flotsam but tonight the pa.s.sing vehicles, driving too fast for the conditions, flinging spray into the air and hurling yet more water at the buildings at risk of flooding were his concern and so he turned away consigning the thing to the storm and the night.

An old tramp down on the harbour side saw it drift through, by now the tarpaulin was mostly unwound. Phil's left arm had emerged to flop and slap, a useless stroke taking him nowhere. One leg gleamed intermittently when the roll turned him in the black water, pitching in the increased flow as the muddied, rubbish strewn river met with the waves cras.h.i.+ng and beating against the sea wall. His brain tried to make sense of the messages his eyes sent but too many years at the end of a bottle and the need to find shelter overwhelmed any interest in the mystery and he turned away and scurried along the flooding streets.

Phil sailed onwards, his corpse bloated with gases of putrefaction, out along the seafront, pushed by the dying force of the river into the cras.h.i.+ng waves. He washed back and forth for a while, hurled against the harbour wall, free now totally of the covering, arms and legs flailing, his head lolling loosely on the ruined neck and so out with the tide, out through the Bristol Channel and further into St George's Channel until, days later, decayed, pecked by sea birds and nudged and nibbled by fish the remains sank to the peace of a watery grave joining the thousands of others, heroes and villains, who slumber forever in the depths.

He was missed briefly by his friends and even more fleetingly by the girls he had run. Benny found the car, parked in the street outside his mother's house, the key hidden under the carpet. He took it for safekeeping; it was after all in better condition than his own. They asked around in the clubs and bars but no-one had seen him. They called on his mum but she had nothing she could tell them, his room was undisturbed, his phone was missing, she didn't know if he was coming back.

Occupied as she was with a new boyfriend and speculation that the shop where she worked was at risk of closure she had no room for concern regarding the eldest of her six children. He had gone bad and she felt his continued presence in her house to be an imposition and a risk. He was always at the edge of the law and she didn't need the police calling or his unpleasant, untrustworthy friends visiting. She told them he had gone, she didn't know where and didn't care.

So, there followed a few weeks of rumours, he had entered the witness protection programme or had moved to the north with Sylvie who was also missing. There was a report saying he had gone to London to join a gang there, had been seen running with a mob in the Capital.

In truth no-one missed him, no-one wanted to speak to the police and so Benny and Jake shared his stash of drugs, divided up the girls, and their dark and dirty world washed its hands of yet another piece of filth.

Ironically the storm had taken away the need to run but, long before Phil settled to the sea bottom, Samuel and Sylvie's life had taken unforeseen roads and unlikely directions.

Chapter 28.

Samuel swung into the car park at the motorway services; he lowered his forehead to rest on his hands where they lay on the steering wheel and let go a huge sigh before turning to her.

"Let's get some coffee."

They climbed down and hurried into the glaring brightness of the cafes and outlet shops, Samuel hauling the heavy holdall in his left hand.

The shock of normality, after the desperation and darkness of just a short while ago left them disoriented and they reached for each other, walking through the bright s.p.a.ces hand in hand.

In the toilets Sylvie stared at her reflection under the unforgiving lights. She looked the same as always, slightly bedraggled from the wind and rain of the car park and she acknowledged the dark smudges under her eyes, but really she appeared unchanged. How could this be, her life had often been a struggle and it was easy to remember times of turmoil, when her dad was in jail and her mother drinking but this now, murder, flight and real panic it seemed impossible these things weren't drawn on her face.

She laid her hands flat on the Formica counter and braced her arms. Closing her eyes she took in some deep breaths.

"Are you alright love?" The gentle hand on her shoulder drew a squeal and jerk of shock.

"Oh sorry, sorry pet, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"No, no it's okay, I'm okay, thanks. Yes, I'm fine thanks."

The short dumpy woman smiled out from her simple, straightforward world as she reached over and patted at Sylvie's arm gently.

"You take care now love. Bye bye."

"Yes, thanks. Bye."

Take care. She had tried, hadn't she? She had broken away from the destruction of her home life, true she had fallen in with Phil but she had tried to make something silk from the sow's ear of her life but maybe, for some people there was no way to take care. In spite of every effort her life was to be cruel and harsh. She was swept with sadness, all she had ever wanted was peace and if possible a little happiness, was it too much to hope for? Eyes smarting with unshed tears, shoulders slumped she drew away from the mirror and made her way back out to the hubbub and Samuel.

He was waiting by a clothes shop, flicking through the fleece tops, idling. She saw though how he had positioned himself to keep a view of the main door reflected in the windows and though his hands rattled the hangers, sliding tops along the rail, his eyes were roaming back and forth around the whole s.p.a.ce and then flicking to the window, monitoring continually. She watched him, how had she become involved with all of this and even more how had she let herself care, because she knew now that she did care and her heart went out to him, sensing Samuel too needed peace and that his soul was tired.

She coughed before reaching out, he was wound tight and she didn't want to startle him, but he'd already seen her and smiled down as he turned and took her hand.

"Come on Sylvie, time for coffee and conversation I think."

The tall cardboard beakers steamed gently on the table and they had both wrapped their fingers around the heat. Neither had raised the cups to drink. She looked into his face, tried to read the expression but the eyes were blank, closed off. It was as if he had gone inside himself searching for the way to begin. She wanted to help him.

"Was she your wife, Marie?"

He shook his head, sharp and dismissive.

"We were going to get married, after the baby. She wanted a nice wedding, a big dress, flowers, so we were waiting. She was my life. All I ever needed was wrapped up in her."

"You were in the army, are you still? Is that what this is about, have you run away?"

He laughed now but reached for her hand, wanting to let her know he wasn't laughing at her.

"No, I came out, they let me go.

"I joined the army from school pretty much, it was all I wanted to do and I loved it. Then I met Marie and I didn't love it quite so much because it took me away from her. She was patient and kind and said she was happy for me to stay and have my career and we'd find a way to make it work. We did, for a while we did.

"I grew up in the house, where we just were. It was Mum and Dad's place, they had it from new and then when they died I took it over. He worked for the National Park and Mum was a receptionist at the doctors, but they died within a couple of years of each other. It was okay really, sad, you know for me, but they were old when I was born and they had good lives. I kept the house on because it had always been a happy place and it was somewhere solid and secure. Marie was a teacher and she got work in the school, just part time but she did other stuff, exam marking, a bit of extra tuition, it all worked well and she loved it there as much as I always had.

"Anyway, I was posted to Afghanistan. The first tour was hard on us but we got through it and then the baby happened, not really planned but we loved the idea."

By now his eyes had filled with tears which he needed to brush from his cheeks with the back of a hand. The other hand was gripping Sylvie's as if it was a life line, the only thing that saved him from being swept away by the grief she saw in every line of his face.

"People here wonder why we're fighting there, well I wondered as well. Most of the time you're with people who either don't want us there or just want whatever they can get from us. They neither know nor care whether we're American or British or any of the others, they just want dollars and favours or they want us gone.

You can't tell who is the enemy, you talk to an old man and his son one day and they smile at you and then the next day the son is shooting at you from behind some c.r.a.ppy half built house. It's hard and uncomfortable and soul destroying. Blokes commit suicide, lose limbs, are blown to smithereens, go mental. So, you ask why are we here and they tell you it's to keep the UK safe. To stop the drugs trade and to fight terrorism. You make yourself believe it because if you don't then all the lads who have died and all the endless hours sitting on some b.l.o.o.d.y sand dune staring into nothing, too hot in the summer, too cold in the winter, all of it is for nothing unless you believe"

He paused, stared around the place as though surprised to find himself there, in a service station in the rain. His eyes swung downwards, to glare into the coffee.

"So, Marie went with her mum to London, to buy some stuff for the baby, just a day out for fun."

He stopped speaking and blinked rapidly, swallowed hard and then tried a couple of times to carry on, his throat working, tension evident in every inch of his body. He coughed "She was. .h.i.t by a car, they both were. They were killed outright. Three generations wiped off the face of the earth in an instant."

Sylvie was crying openly now, her hand covered her mouth but her eyes never left his face.

"The car was driven by a drug dealer, chased by the police and it didn't stop. The police had to because of Marie and her mum and my baby, my poor little baby who didn't even have the chance to be born, and the sc.u.m got away.

So, there I was stuck in the a.r.s.ehole of the world fighting to make the UK safe and the only thing I cared about, the only two things I had to love were wiped out by some sc.u.mbag dealing drugs. Where's the sense in that eh, where's the justice. How did I keep them safe?"

He looked at her now, deep into her eyes, though he must have known she had no answers for him, he had no answers for himself. He shook his head and grabbed the coffee cup and gulped the cooling drink. It was a subterfuge, just to give himself time to carry on. Now he had started he was determined she would know it all.

Chapter 29.

Sylvie could think of nothing to say to him, this raw pain was too much to deal with and so she simply stroked the back of his hand and waited until he was ready.

"The army let me go, on compa.s.sionate grounds. I was no good to them, no good to anyone for a long time and so I drifted. I couldn't go back to the house, I didn't have any other place and so I dossed with some mates here and there, slept at homeless shelters, whatever suited me at the time.

"Slowly I came back, from the worst of it, but the world didn't make sense any more. I didn't know what to do, how to get back on track. Anyway, then one day, down in London, I saw a young lad being beaten up. It was one of those things, three on one, he was on the floor and I just jumped in. I know I was out of control, I was vicious, brutal. I suppose there was some pent-up fury, whatever. I just remember it felt good to be hurting someone, I know that's awful but right then it felt better than anything had for months."

He reached across now with his other hand and took her slim one in both of his.

"I was out of control, totally. In the end they ran off and I helped the kid up. Turns out he was a runner for a drug gang and the sc.u.m I had just beaten up were from another crew, oh s.h.i.+t it was just the same garbage that goes on all over the place. It sickened me, this was the world that had killed Marie and the baby and Marie's mum. It was rotten, stinking and then I saw what I could do.

"The army had taught me a lot of things, most of all they had taught me how to fight."

He paused, raised his head and looked into her eyes. Do you want to know this stuff Sylvie? It's not nice, are you okay with this?"

She nodded and managed to smile at him.

"Okay, well I went on a bit of a vigilante spree. I roamed the streets, I hurt some people. Some of them were injured really badly, I don't know if they all recovered. I didn't care much. I slept at hostels and in squats, I was invisible and at night I went out and hurt people. It was animal, inhuman, I thought I was doing a good thing, revenge, getting even and so on, but really I think I was just living on hate and it was eating me up.

"After a while a mob down there approached me, they knew what I'd been doing; they wanted me to work with them. Can you imagine? After what had happened they actually thought I could become one of them.

"I played along, made the right noises, finessed them, used the skills I had learned courtesy of Her Majesty's armed forces. I got in with the movers and shakers, right up to the top. They were stupid, really just thuggish idiots but I played their game.

"Sylvie, I know you looked in the bag." He raised his hand as she opened her mouth to speak, staying the lie that had leapt to her lips.

"It's okay, really. It's what I would have done. I do understand. It's dirty money Sylvie, it's taken from the people who tried to recruit me. I left them all in a burning building, I don't know how many survived, I honestly don't care. But, they do they care very much and since then I have been moving, running. I thought, in the woods, the shack, I was safe for a while but it couldn't last. They'll get me in the end I know, I've accepted it, but not you, this isn't your world, not your problem, you have to get away. They've found me again, I managed to get away yesterday. Somebody must have seen us at the house, whatever, it doesn't really matter. I know it's only a question of time, they won't give up. Each time I escape it's just avoiding the inevitable.

"I'm tired of it; to be honest I'm not sure I really have the heart to run anymore. Part of me just wants it to be over, I won't give up without a fight but really I just want it done. But you, you have to be safe Sylvie, I don't want what I've done to hurt you."

"Samuel, go to the police. Can't you tell them, give them the money, they have protection things don't they, you could have a new ident.i.ty, go abroad, anything."

"Oh Sylvie you don't know though, you have no idea the things I've done, the people I've hurt, probably killed, no it's all gone too far."

She saw him switch off. He was drained by the confession, by reliving the horrors and the guilt. They sat hand in hand for long minutes as the world swirled around them, together in their loneliness, knowing they were probably lost to each other already.

She whispered now, as her hand curled in his and the tears began to dry on her cheeks.

"What should we do now then, where will we go Samuel? Can I stay with you, for a while at least? I'm not scared you know, I can help you, maybe we can get away, go to America. You have all the money. Don't give up. Samuel, I think I love you. I know you can't feel the same, you have Marie and the baby in your heart and there's no room left for me and I don't expect you to but can we be together, just for a while?"

When he raised his face there was such sadness there that she couldn't bear to look at him. She turned away.