Angel Kiss (19 page)

A loud voice startled me. It was coming from outside. It was a man, yelling and cursing angrily.

‘I can’t believe you did that!’ The voice was familiar. I realized it was Des. A sliver of light snuck in through a gap in the back wall. I bent down and peeked through it. Des was standing beside the generator, next to Chris.

‘I didn’t mean to!’ said Chris, his voice shaking. Chris bent down and started to wind up a length of wire, but Des snatched it from him.

‘Just leave it alone. Leave the wires. And turn that switch off!’ Des was frighteningly angry. I’d never heard him raise his
voice. I watched him inspect the generator while Chris shuffled about awkwardly. It was frightening to hear such venom and anger in his voice – it seemed so out of character. Des gave Chris a dirty look and then stormed off.

I rushed out of the funhouse and ran over to the carousel. I didn’t want Des to see me. I didn’t want to have to talk to him. Maybe there was a darker side to his personality after all. And, if he had killed Beth, then maybe he had killed again. Maybe he had killed Jane.

The next day Mum was standing in the front garden in a gypsy dress and cardigan, her pink sling-back sandals hidden in the long grass. She was looking up at the house. The weather was getting cooler, the summer slipping away steadily. I was wearing my faded skinny jeans, a white T-shirt and grey waistcoat, each of its buttons encrusted with a little jewel. I stepped out of the caravan and walked across the grass. Mum didn’t budge; she just stood there, staring at the house. She’d been so upset when I’d told her about Des. At first she didn’t believe it, but then she’d found out that quite a few people in the village suspected him, so she’d decided to cool things off. She hadn’t spoken to him for a few days. I didn’t want to tell her about his angry outburst at the fête. It would only upset her more.

‘Are you all right, Mum?’ I asked, touching her arm.

‘Hmm?’ she said, looking at me. It was sad to see her like this. She’d really been into Des. I wanted the old Mum back. The one who flicked ferociously through home magazines for decorating ideas and got overly excited when kitchen units and bathroom tiles arrived.

‘Are you OK?’ I said.

‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking …’ Mum shuffled her feet in the grass.

‘About what?’

‘Nothing important really … you know, just … stuff. The house looks great, doesn’t it?’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I agreed.

‘It’s exactly how I imagined it would be,’ she said, her words positive, but her tone deflated. I knew what she was thinking about. Or, rather, who she was thinking about. I wanted to say something comforting, something to make her feel better, but I just couldn’t think of anything. She probably didn’t want to talk about it anyway. I knew that’s how I’d felt, when I’d had my heart broken. I didn’t want to talk about it, because it hurt too much. I thought it best just to stand there in silence. It wasn’t awkward with Mum; it was nice. We didn’t have to talk; we could just be. She knew I felt bad for her, she knew I cared. It was kind of overwhelming when I thought about all the millions of reasons why people broke up. There were so many obstacles, so many things that could go wrong.

Suddenly, we heard a loud noise like falling stones behind the house. The sound startled me. The builders weren’t here. I wondered what it could be. I turned to Mum.

‘What was that?’ I said.

‘Sounds like something fell,’ said Mum. ‘I hope nothing’s damaged.’

We hurried round the back.

‘Maybe it was a cat or something,’ said Mum as we turned the corner. We looked around the garden. The stack of red bricks in the corner had been knocked down and strewn across
the ground. But it wasn’t a cat. We just caught a glimpse of a man disappearing through a gap in the hedge.

‘Who the hell was that?’ said Mum.

I was afraid to say who I thought it was.

‘That looked a bit like Des,’ said Mum. ‘Did you see his face?’

‘No, I didn’t see his face, but it could have been him.’ I was getting worried now.

‘Why would Des climb through our hedge?’ Mum sounded more confused than frightened.

‘I don’t know … but I have a bad feeling about him.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Mum, I’m not sure he’s that innocent any more. I overheard him get really angry with someone at the fête. Maybe he’s not as nice as we think he is.’ I didn’t want to upset her, but I had to be honest.

‘Hold on … could he have been spying on us?’ Mum looked worried now.

‘I don’t know. Maybe –’

‘That’s it. We’re leaving.’

‘Mum, calm down.’

‘Jacki, I can’t deal with this any more. He was spying on us. A lot of people think he killed a woman. We need to get out of here. C’mon, let’s pack up.’

‘But –’

Mum marched towards the caravan. All I could do was follow her. She pulled her suitcase out from under her bed and began to fling things into it.

‘Mum, can we talk more about –’

‘Now!’

‘Mum –’

‘Put some things in a bag. We’re going back to Dublin.’

‘Dublin? No! We can’t go back. I need to be here.’

‘You can still see that Reynolds boy.’

‘It’s not only about him. I need to be here, Mum.’

‘We’re not coming back until the house is finished. I’m not staying in this caravan.’

This wasn’t fair. I couldn’t leave now. Jane needed me. I could cope with not seeing Nick, but I couldn’t cope with letting Jane down. I went into the bathroom, pretending to pack up my make-up, but really just trying to figure out how I was going to stall Mum. When I came back out she looked terrible. Her hands were shaking and her face was white with shock. I watched her put some freshly washed clothes into her suitcase along with her make-up and jewellery.

‘Mum –’

‘Jacki, pack your stuff. Now!’

‘I don’t want to go –’

‘This is not up for discussion. And we’re going to the Garda station first. I’m not letting him get away with that sort of thing.’ Mum was really mad. I could tell there was no use trying to reason with her when she was in this state. I’d wait until later. Maybe after driving for a while she’d calm down, and I’d be able to convince her to come back. I didn’t want to leave Avarna now. Not even for a day.

I grudgingly piled my clothes and shoes into my own suitcase, scurried around looking for my notebook, then stuffed it into my handbag along with my phone and my iPod. Mum ran outside, opened the boot of the car and threw her suitcase in. I followed her out and put my suitcase on top of hers.

‘Right. Ready?’

‘No. Wait two seconds. I have to get my guitar.’ I had to bring it, just in case this was for real and we had to leave.

Mum drove down to the Garda station.

‘Can I go to Colin’s?’ I asked. ‘He said I could stay over whenever I wanted. I could keep an eye on the house until you come back.’ I knew it was unlikely she’d let me, but it was worth a shot.

‘Are you crazy, Jacki? I’m not leaving you here.’

‘But he said it would be OK.’

‘You’re coming back to Dublin with me. We can stay with Gran for a while till the house is finished. Now wait here. I’ll be back in a second.’ She got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

‘No, I’ll come with you,’ I said. I got out too and followed her to the station door. She didn’t protest. I think she was probably glad that I was coming in with her; she still looked pretty shaken up.

The front part of the Reynolds’s house functioned as Avarna’s Garda station, while the back served as the family’s living quarters. The station was painted dull cream and blue and the cabinets and furniture were well worn. Sergeant Michael Reynolds sat at his desk behind the counter, flicking through a pile of paper.

Mum put her elbows on the wooden counter and Michael looked up, not with a jump, but with a slow, composed lift of his head.

‘Can I help you, ladies?’

‘We have a problem,’ said Mum.

Michael placed his mug of coffee down on the coaster.

‘I’d like to report an intruder,’ she continued. I saw tears starting to well up in her eyes, so I interrupted.

‘We think someone might have been spying on us,’ I said. I wasn’t used to seeing Mum like this. She was always so together, so in control. I knew she’d be really embarrassed if she ended up crying in front of Sergeant Reynolds. I put my hand on her arm, trying to comfort her.

‘Someone?’ said Sergeant Reynolds. ‘Do you have any idea who it might have been?’

I was about to say his name, but I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, so I just shrugged. Sergeant Reynolds seemed to know I was holding something back.

‘Any idea at all?’ His intimidating stare was enough to make me cave.

‘Well …’ I said. ‘The guy did look a bit like Des …’

‘Des Butler? Isn’t he working on your house?’ Michael said with a snort.

‘He’s finished working on it,’ said Mum. ‘I’m a bit worried … because we went out together a few times, you see, but then I heard a rumour about him, so I decided to stop seeing him. I think he might be … well, stalking me.’

‘When did this happen?’ said Michael, suddenly much more interested in what Mum had to say. ‘You think he intruded on your property?’

‘About twenty minutes ago. I think he was watching us from round the back. This whole thing is stressing me out. I think Jacki and I should go back to Dublin for a week or two until the house is ready.’

A week or two? No, I couldn’t do that. I had to stay here
. The door of the station swung open and Peter Mulvey popped his head in. He was wearing a black suit with a white shirt, the collar unbuttoned.

‘Michael, are you free later for a round of golf?’ he said before he had even stepped inside. Then he saw us and nodded in our direction. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he said. ‘Sorry for interrupting.’

‘Don’t be trailing mud into my station,’ said Michael, pointing at Peter’s mucky shoes. Peter wiped his feet on the mat and pushed his sunglasses up on to his head. ‘Ah, will you calm down, Michael,’ he said. ‘And what are a beautiful pair like ye doing hanging out in this dump?’ He walked over and stood between the two of us.

‘We’re having a bit of trouble,’ said Mum. ‘We’ve had an intruder …’

‘Oh dear,’ said Peter.

‘No prizes for guessing who,’ said Michael, rolling his eyes. Peter gave him a knowing nod. Almost everyone seemed to have suspicions about Des. I still couldn’t believe nobody had told us. Michael wasn’t doing much to curb Mum’s fears.

This meant that I might actually have to accept that I couldn’t stay in Avarna. It was so unfair.

‘We’re going back to Dublin,’ added Mum. ‘I won’t feel safe until the house is finished.’

‘Now don’t be too rash. You’re very welcome to stay at our house,’ said Peter. ‘You’ll be safe there. We have electric gates, CCTV, an alarm system –’

‘Really?’ I said. This might be a good solution. The Mulveys’ house was huge … Mum and I could both stay there. I was glad Peter had come into the station.

‘Thanks, but we don’t want to burden you,’ said Mum. ‘We should go back to Dublin. We can stay with my mother for a week or two.’

I should have known Mum wouldn’t accept. She’d always
been reluctant to accept help from people, especially people she didn’t know well. She was used to sorting everything out herself, used to being totally independent.

‘But you’re trying to finish your house, aren’t you?’ said Peter. ‘You won’t be able to do that if you’re back in Dublin. And you wouldn’t be a burden. I’m sure Anne won’t mind. We have three spare rooms. You’ve met my wife, Anne, haven’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘But really I –’

‘I think it would be a good idea for you to stay at the Mulveys’,’ said Michael. ‘And neither of you go walking around the mines or the forest by yourselves. We all know what that man is capable of.’

Mum looked frightened. Peter placed his hand gently on her back.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘You’re in no fit state to drive anywhere, let alone Dublin. Come on back to my house and I’ll make you a cup of tea. And you can think about my offer.’

Please say yes
, I thought.
Please, please say yes.

‘OK,’ said Mum, trying to compose herself. ‘Thanks very much, Peter.’

I couldn’t believe it. She was actually considering taking his help. Maybe it was because Sergeant Reynolds had advised her to. Or maybe it was because the stress of everything had just become too much. I didn’t really care what the reason was though. All I cared about was that I might get to stay.

Anne Mulvey placed a mug on the table in front of Mum. Mum smiled and took a sip. After twenty minutes of convincing, Mum had decided to take Peter up on his offer. I was so relieved. Now I sat at the Mulveys’ kitchen table, buttering my slice of toast.

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cappuccino, Jacki?’ asked Anne.

‘No, thanks, tea’s fine,’ I replied. The modern kitchen screamed expensive, but it had a lived-in feel, with a stack of dishes beside the sink and a pile of dirt beside the dustbin, still waiting to be swept up and disposed of. It certainly was a lot tidier than it had been at the party the week before, when empty beer cans had covered the counter.

‘You’re sure it’s OK, Anne?’ said Mum.

‘Of course! What’s the point in having three guest bedrooms if we never have guests? You can stay as long as you like.’

Anne Mulvey was a tall, thin woman with a spray-tan and a blonde hairstyle that was a bit too long for her age. Her hands were showing the first signs of wrinkles, but her forehead was impeccably smooth, suggesting she got something pumped into it. Her clothes were perfectly fitted and her shoes were the kind
any self-respecting fashionista would kill for with her bare hands.

‘Well, it will just be until our house is finished.’

‘It’s terrible what you have to put up with. That man should have been locked up years ago. Honestly, it’s beyond belief.’

‘Where’s Dad gone?’ said Carla from across the table. She was wearing the same outfit she’d worn to Emily’s: a black hoodie with a red cross on the front, a short black tutu-style skirt and black Converse trainers.