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The Face Behind the Mask. Helen Phifer
Читать онлайн.Название The Face Behind the Mask
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008209575
Автор произведения Helen Phifer
Жанр Ужасы и Мистика
Издательство HarperCollins
He had felt no qualms about leaving her lying on the cold ground bleeding and all alone. He’d laughed to himself all the way home that he’d shown her. She wouldn’t be making fun of him in class again. She hadn’t died, but she never came back to school. He’d heard his mother talking about how she was barely able to talk and feed herself any more.
Now he stared at his father. Once more the anger filled his chest. He didn’t care if his mother saw him dressed this way. She knew what the circus was like, but he hadn’t expected his father to be home. He was such a bigot and all he cared about was Gordy having a proper job, with prospects, and being respectable. His job working for his dad at Marshall and Marshall Accountants was about as exciting as watching paint dry and Gordy knew that he couldn’t do it a day longer. The time had come to leave and he wasn’t sorry in the least.
‘I’m leaving to become a clown. I’ve been offered a position in the circus.’
His father’s face turned the colour of beetroot. He spluttered as spittle flew from his mouth while trying to find the right words. ‘You leave this house looking like that and you’re never coming back.’
His mother had begun to cry, and then she let out a high-pitched scream as she ran at him. Her small fists pummelled his chest. He grabbed them in his huge hands to stop her. His dad bellowed at him to let go of her and Gordy lost it. Was he not allowed to defend himself? His father could punch and kick her yet this wasn’t allowed? It was ridiculous!
Shoving his mother to one side he strode across the room, pushing past his father. He needed to get out of this suffocating house of misery. He had a suitcase packed already in the hall cupboard; he was wearing his most precious items of clothing. After running down the stairs he grabbed his case and walked into the kitchen where he had left his wallet.
His mother, who had found her second wind, was now running down the stairs, screaming at him. Without pausing, he picked up the sharp axe off the fire grate his father used to split the wood. Swinging it with full force he watched as, in slow motion, it hit his mother’s neck and a fountain of red sprayed from it. Her eyes began to glaze over as she fell to the floor.
His father came charging at him, screaming Gordy’s mother’s name. Gordy knew he had no other choice now and swung the axe at his father. He watched as the fight left the huge bully of a man and he collapsed to the floor next to his wife. The spreading puddle of thick, red blood began to pool around both of their heads.
Gordy threw the axe into the open fire and the handle began to smoulder and burn. Flames jumped from it as the wooden shaft caught alight. He expected to hear sirens in the distance, but all he heard was silence. For the first time ever the house was truly quiet. After washing his hands in the sink he dried them on the tea towel and picked up his case.
For the first time in his life he felt liberated; he felt free. He turned to take one last look at the crumpled, bleeding, dead humans he’d left behind – humans he had once loved, a very long time ago. He shrugged. He could get changed, but there was no reason why he had to. The circus was only a mile away down the road on the wasteland next to the park; he could walk there as if he belonged. No one would recognise him and he would finally be able to be himself after all this time.
The sea of black and white parted as if by Moses himself at the arrival of the horse-drawn hearse. Two lines of neatly formed police officers stood with their heads bowed, all wearing their number one smart black dress tunics. Black boots polished highly enough to see their own reflections in. Pressed, crisp white shirts and the creases in their dress trousers immaculate.
Annie Ashworth stood at the back of the crowd of mourners; next to her was her friend and retired police sergeant Kav. She was still on maternity leave and thankful that she was, so she hadn’t had to face the indignity of trying to squeeze into her too small uniform. She doubted very much that her tunic would fasten; neither would her trousers.
She hadn’t wanted to come to Stuart’s funeral and had forced herself to leave the house this morning because she felt partly responsible that he was dead. No, that was wrong. She felt wholly responsible that he was dead. If he hadn’t turned up at her house that night, steaming drunk and being aggressive, then none of this would ever have happened. She wouldn’t be here now, standing watching her husband, Will, leading the guard of honour and trying to keep it together while looking distraught.
She’d only ever seen him cry twice: once when he thought she was dead at the hands of serial killer Henry Smith, and then at the birth of their son, Alfie. Think about Alfie and how gorgeous he is. Don’t look at the… It was too late. Her eyes landed on the solid oak coffin with the Union Jack flag draped over it. Stu’s flat cap and a beautiful display of white roses, lilies and gypsophila adorned the top of it. She felt her legs tremble, but Kav’s strong hand gripped her elbow. He bent down and whispered, ‘Don’t even go there; this wasn’t your fault.’
Her eyes filled with tears because, no matter how many times they told her it wasn’t, she would always – every single day for the rest of her life – blame herself. As the officers saluted at the passing of their colleague she blinked and turned away. She’d come here for Will, who had worked with Stu and been his friend for the last five years; he’d supported her through so much and now it was her turn. Annie knew that what Will really needed was to get this over with, then go to the pub and get shit-faced with the rest of his team in CID. He could reminisce about the good old times, try to forget the bad and generally get it all out of his system.
She whispered back, ‘I should never have come.’
Kav shrugged. Annie was aware that he felt just as awkward as she did because it had been him driving Stu home that night. He’d jumped out of Cathy’s car and done a runner into the pitch black along the wintry, desolate coastal road. Kav had set off a panicked search that had ended with Stu throwing himself in front of a fast-moving police car.
Debs, Stu’s estranged wife, walked in between Stu’s parents holding their hands. Annie admired her strength. She didn’t know if she would have been able to do that. It was nice that his parents didn’t blame her or Annie; in fact they hadn’t blamed anyone and had accepted that their only son had made a reckless, drunken decision that had left him unable to feed himself, talk or open his eyes. As cruel as it was, it was kinder that he’d died. That was no way to live your life. Annie thought that Stu would have agreed with her wholeheartedly.
There were so many mourners that Annie was relieved they couldn’t fit inside the small church and happily took her place standing outside. It was a warm summer’s day, the kind of day that made you want to pack up a picnic and go sit on a blanket on the beach. It was far too nice a day for a funeral; the sun was certainly shining down on Stuart today. She just hoped he’d finally found some peace.
He hadn’t been a bad person. He’d just completely fucked up big time and had paid the ultimate price. It could happen to anyone. Throughout the entire service Annie’s attention kept getting drawn to one of the old tombstones in the churchyard. She couldn’t see anyone standing around in that area, but she got the distinct impression someone was hiding and watching.
Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’ began to play and the coffin was carried out of the church. Annie bowed her head, waiting for them all to pass. She wasn’t going to the cremation; she and Kav were going back to Jake’s house. Jake’s husband Alex was babysitting Alfie. Their fifteen-month-old little girl, Alice, was as besotted with her eight-month-old baby, Alfie, as Annie was.
Will passed her by, his eyes puffy and red. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Jake, who was one of the last out, walked straight over to them. Bending down he kissed her on the cheek. He looked at Kav and grinned.
‘I may love you, Sarge, but I’m not kissing you in public;