Black Rabbit Summer

  ‘You don’t need to know,’ Barry said before Kesey could answer.

  As Kesey shrugged, half-smiling at Dad, I saw Barry glance at me.

  ‘What’s he doing here?’ he asked Dad.

  ‘Nothing,’ Dad sighed. ‘He was just trying to get back home.’

  ‘Well, get him out of here, for Christ’s sake.’ Barry shook his head. ‘Come on, Jeff, you know we can’t afford to mess this up. Go on home… now. Both of you.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Dad.

  He nodded at Kesey, and I saw a quick look pass between them, then he put his hand on my shoulder and led me away. As we ducked under the crime-tape and started edging our way through the crowd, I could see cameras flashing from across the street. I could see people watching us too. Neighbours, strangers, TV reporters. But I didn’t really take any notice of them. I was too busy staring at the police car parked outside Raymond’s house.

  As soon as we got back home, Dad made a quick call on his mobile, then he told me to go and wait in the living room.

  ‘Why?’ I asked him. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Just do it, will you?’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  As I went into the living room, I heard him go into the kitchen and start talking to Mum, and then I heard his mobile ring. I listened for a while, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying, so I crossed over to the window and tried to see what was going on at Raymond’s instead. I couldn’t see all of his house from here, and most of the curtains were closed anyway, but I could see that the police car was still there.

  I didn’t know what that meant. Were the police just talking to his parents? Were they questioning them? Or were they giving them the bad news about what they’d just found at the river?

  I didn’t want to believe that.

  I couldn’t.

  Christ, I couldn’t even think about it.

  I took a deep breath and rubbed the moisture from my eyes.

  God…

  I breathed in again, trying to steady myself… and suddenly something came to me. A smell… something in the air… something that reminded me of something. I sniffed again. Flowers. There was a vase of flowers on the window sill. I leaned down and breathed in their scent. No, that wasn’t it… it wasn’t the smell of the flowers that reminded me of something, it was just the memory of smelling… smelling something else.

  Smelling darkness.

  That was it.

  That darkly sweet scent that I’d smelled on Wes Campbell…

  That was it.

  I’d just remembered where I’d smelled it before.

  The living-room door opened then, and I turned to see Dad and John Kesey coming in. I quickly wiped my eyes again and moved away from the window.

  ‘It’s all right, Pete,’ Dad said, noticing the look in my eyes. ‘It’s not Raymond. John’s just filled me in on what they’ve found at the river, and at the moment it doesn’t look as if it’s got anything to do with Raymond.’

  I breathed out a sigh of relief.

  It’s not Raymond.

  But the relief didn’t last very long.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked Dad.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You said that at the moment it doesn’t look as if what they’ve found has got anything to do with Raymond.’ I looked at him. ‘What have they found?’

  Dad hesitated, glancing at Kesey.

  ‘You might as well tell him,’ Kesey said. ‘It’ll be all over the news soon anyway.’

  Dad thought about it for a moment, then nodded. ‘All right,’ he said wearily. ‘But you have to realize that this is all unofficial, Pete. John shouldn’t be here, and neither of us should be telling you anything. So, if anyone asks…’

  ‘Yeah, I know. This never happened.’

  ‘Right.’

  We all sat down then – me and John Kesey on the settee, and Dad in the armchair.

  ‘A couple of hours ago,’ Dad said to me, ‘the police got a call from an old man about something he’d found by the river. He was walking his dog, apparently, and the dog went after a rabbit, and when it came out of the bushes it had a bloodstained shirt in its mouth.’

  ‘Shit,’ I breathed.

  ‘Anyway,’ Dad went on, ‘this old chap called the police, and they sent some officers round to take a look… and they found some other things.’

  ‘What kind of things?’

  Dad looked at Kesey.

  ‘Clothing,’ Kesey said. ‘A pair of denim shorts, some underwear, a pair of black boots –’

  ‘That’s what Stella was wearing.’

  ‘Yeah, we know,’ Kesey told me. ‘Her parents have already identified the clothing as hers.’

  ‘What about Stella?’ I said. ‘I mean, is she –?’

  ‘There’s no sign of her, so far,’ Kesey said. ‘We’ve got dozens of people down there now. They’re scouring the whole area inch by inch. If she’s down there, we’ll find her.’

  I looked at Dad for a moment, then turned back to Kesey, and for the first time I wondered what he was doing here. If he wasn’t supposed to be here, and he wasn’t supposed to be telling us stuff that we weren’t meant to know… then why was he here?

  ‘Listen, Pete,’ he said sombrely, shifting in his seat to face me. ‘I know this is all a bit confusing for you at the moment, but if there’s anything you haven’t told us yet, and I mean anything at all… well, now’s the time to get it off your chest. Before things get too serious.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘No one knows I’m here, OK? No one knows I’m talking to you. So anything you tell me now is strictly off the record. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  ‘Not really, no.’

  He sighed. ‘All I’m trying to say is – if you know something, anything, that can help me find out what happened, I can use it now without making it official. As long as we get the right result, no one’s going to care where I got the information from.’ He looked at me. ‘I can keep you out of it, Pete. But you have to help me, and you have to do it now. We’re not investigating a murder yet, but things aren’t looking too good. And once it all starts kicking off… well, there won’t be much I can do for you then.’

  ‘Why do you want to keep me out of it?’

  ‘Why?’ he said, frowning at me. ‘Why do you think? I’ve known your dad for years, that’s why. We’re friends, we look after each other. That’s what friends do.’ He stared at me, narrowing his eyes. ‘And you’re not guilty of anything, are you, Pete? I think you probably know something, but the only thing you’re guilty of is keeping it quiet.’

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘You tell me.’ He looked at me. ‘Are you scared of something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Is someone threatening you?’

  ‘No one’s threatening me.’

  ‘So why won’t you talk to us?’

  ‘I am talking to you –’

  ‘Are you trying to protect someone?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about Raymond?’

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Look, I know he’s your friend, and I know you want to look after him –’

  ‘That’s what friends do, isn’t it?’

  Kesey smiled. ‘The best thing you can do for Raymond right now is tell us everything you know. If he’s got anything to do with Stella –’

  ‘He hasn’t.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Raymond wouldn’t hurt anyone.’

  ‘People do strange things, Pete. Especially if they’re –’

  ‘If they’re what?’ I said angrily. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Raymond –’

  ‘I didn’t say there was –’

  ‘He’s not fucking abnormal –’

  ‘Pete!’ Dad snapped.

  I ignored him, glaring at Kesey. ‘That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? All this concern for me, everybody wanting to help me… it’s all bollocks. You’re just tryi
ng to get to Raymond through me.’

  ‘That’s not true –’

  ‘Yeah, it is. You’ve already made up your mind about him, haven’t you? He’s a bit of a weirdo, he’s gone missing at the same time as Stella, so he must have done something to her. That’s it, isn’t it? Simple as that.’

  ‘Nothing’s simple –’

  ‘Fucking right,’ I said.

  Dad jumped out of his seat and came marching over to me then, and I knew that I’d gone too far, and that he was going to start yelling at me… but when I looked up at him, I was surprised to see that he didn’t look angry at all. He just looked really worried, and a little bit scared. And then I realized that I was crying. And I started feeling pretty frightened myself, because I’d never cried like this before. I wasn’t shaking or trembling or anything, I was just sitting there, perfectly still, and the tears were literally pouring down my face…

  And I couldn’t work out if the tears felt hot or cold.

  Like blood or sweat.

  And I didn’t understand why it mattered.

  But it did.

  And that scared the hell out of me.

  Dad decided not to go into work that night. I told him that I was OK, that he didn’t have to stay at home for my sake, but he said that he wasn’t just doing it for me, that he had a few things to talk over with Mum anyway… which might have been true, or it might not. But it wasn’t worth arguing about.

  Anyway, he called the station and told them he wasn’t coming in, and he spent most of the rest of that night in the living room with Mum. I sat with them for a while, drinking tea and half-heartedly nibbling at a sandwich, then I made my excuses and went upstairs to my room.

  I turned on the TV, lay down on my bed, and watched Sky News.

  The only fresh information they had about Stella was that she’d been due to fly out to Barbados with her parents on the Sunday morning to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary, which was why her parents had reported her missing so quickly. They’d been booked on a nine o’clock flight, and they’d been planning to leave home at six in the morning. So when Stella still hadn’t returned by five, her parents had tried calling her mobile, only to find that it was dead – no answer, no dialling tone, no voicemail, no nothing. They’d started ringing around then, calling everyone they could think of who might have known where Stella was, and after a while it became apparent that she hadn’t been seen since the early hours of the morning. And that’s when they’d called the police.

  Apart from that, and the fact that several items of clothing had been found by a river in St Leonard’s, and that the police were still searching the area, the rest of the news was just a rehash of the same old stuff. There was no confirmation that the clothing was Stella’s, and no mention of any blood, so I guessed the police were keeping as much information to themselves as possible. Not that the news reporters didn’t keep speculating, of course. There was speculation about this, speculation about that… expert opinions, unconfirmed reports, discussions, views, theories, ideas, and lots and lots of film footage showing Stella’s home, the fairground, the recreation ground, the scene at the end of Hythe Street…

  There was no mention of Raymond.

  Nothing about a missing teenage boy.

  And I wondered if that was another thing the police were trying to keep quiet. Or maybe, as Dad had admitted, Raymond just wasn’t news. But I guessed it wouldn’t be long before he was.

  It was around nine o’clock when my mobile rang. I was still lying on my bed, staring at the TV, still trying to get my head round everything…

  I flipped open the phone and put it to my ear. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Pete?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s Eric. Can you talk?’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Is it safe to talk? I mean, your dad’s not there, is he?’

  ‘No, I’m on my own.’

  ‘Great. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you about Saturday night, you know… all this stuff about Stella? Shit… have you seen what they’re saying on the news? They reckon they’ve found some of her clothes at the river –’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘Shit,’ he said again. ‘I just can’t believe it. I mean, I know this kind of stuff happens, but when it’s someone you know, and it happens really close to you… I mean, the river, for God’s sake. You can almost see the river from your place –’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah… of course you do.’ I heard him light a cigarette. ‘Do you think they’ve found anything else?’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know… I just thought you might have heard something. You know, from your dad…’

  I didn’t say anything.

  Eric cleared his throat. ‘I mean, is your dad, you know…? Has he been talking to you about it?’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Come on, Pete,’ he said, slightly irritated. ‘Look, I’m sorry I lied to you about Saturday night, OK? But it didn’t mean anything. I was just –’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ I told him. ‘Nic’s already explained everything. It’s all right, Eric. You don’t have to apologize.’

  ‘Yeah, well… it’s just embarrassing, that’s all. You know how it is when you get a bit drunk…’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Anyway, the thing is… well, it’s just that it could make things a bit awkward for me now. I mean, the police are probably going to want to talk to us about Stella, aren’t they?’

  I kept quiet, waiting for him to go on.

  ‘Do you think they will want to talk to us?’ he said.

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Yeah, they’ll have to, won’t they? We all knew her, and we were all there… and they’ve got that film of her blanking Nic –’

  ‘And you used to go out with her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You used to go out with Stella.’

  ‘Yeah, but –’

  ‘They’ll probably want to talk to all her old boyfriends.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose…’ He anxiously cleared his throat again. ‘That’s what I mean, though, Pete. If the police find out that I lied to you about where I was on Saturday night… well, it could make things a bit difficult for me. So, you know, I need to know…’

  ‘You want to know who I’ve talked to. Is that it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You think I might have told the police that you lied to me?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? Look, I’m not saying you would have done it on purpose or anything… I mean, I don’t even know if you’ve talked to the police yet anyway.’

  ‘I have.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What did you tell them?’

  I had to think about that. I really had to sift through all the things I’d told Dad and John Kesey about Saturday night… and all the things I hadn’t told them too. It was hard to remember, and for some reason it made me feel kind of detached from myself. It was like thinking about lots of different Pete Bolands. There was the Pete Boland who’d talked to Dad in the kitchen after seeing Black Rabbit’s severed head on the gate. There was the Pete Boland who’d talked officially to John Kesey, and the Pete Boland who’d talked to him unofficially. And there was the Pete Boland who was trying to remember it all now.

  ‘Pete?’ said Eric. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yeah, hold on, I’m just thinking…’

  ‘What’s there to think about?’ he said sharply.

  ‘Do you want me to tell you or not?’ I snapped back at him.

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘yeah… sorry. I’m just a bit –’

  ‘I told them the truth, Eric. That’s all. I told them that I went round to your place after the fair, that no one was in, and that I fell asleep on the step.’

  ‘So they know I didn’t go home?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But not that I lied to you about it?’

  ‘No.??
?

  ‘Thanks, Pete,’ he sighed. ‘God… that’s a relief.’

  There was so much I wanted to say to him then – you can keep your thanks, Eric… I know you’re still lying… I notice you haven’t mentioned Raymond at all… and, by the way, have you heard from Wes Campbell recently? – but I could hear that soundless voice again, that unknown whisper in the back of my mind, and it was telling me to keep my thoughts to myself.

  And, besides, I’d just heard Dad’s footsteps coming up the stairs.

  So I just said, ‘I’ve got to go now, Eric,’ and before he could reply, I quickly ended the call.

  Eighteen

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Dad asked me.

  ‘I’m OK. Just a bit… you know…’

  He looked at me, nodding his head. He was sitting across the room at my desk, and I was still sitting on my bed. He looked tired.

  ‘Mum’s really worried about you,’ he said. ‘She says you’ve been feeling a bit down recently, and now she’s worried that all this stress and everything might be getting too much for you.’

  ‘She worries too much,’ I said.

  Dad smiled at me. ‘That’s what I told her. Mind you, that’s what I always tell her, and it’s hardly ever true.’ His smile faded. ‘Look, I’m not going to pretend that I know how you feel, Pete, because I don’t. But I know what something like this can do to you. I know how it can mess up your head. But if there’s anything more to it than that – and I’m not asking you to tell me what it is – but if there is anything else, any problems, anything that’s been troubling you… just tell me, OK? We don’t have to sort it out now, we don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but if Mum’s right, and there is something else worrying you, I just need to know.’

  I looked at him, wondering briefly what he would say if I did tell him the truth – well, actually, Dad, I think I might be going a bit mad… I mean, I know I’m not going mad, but I keep doing things and seeing things and hearing things that don’t make any sense…

  ‘I’m all right, Dad,’ I said. ‘Honest… I’m OK.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Well, no… I’m not OK. I mean, I feel really terrible about Raymond and Stella and everything, you know… but apart from that…’

  ‘You’re OK?’