The Pull of the Moon (34 page)

‘You have to stay with me,’ Danny persisted. ‘I don’t want you to go to France.’

‘It would be for the best,’ I said.

Simon had been looking from one to the other of us, saying nothing. I addressed him directly. ‘Will you take me into Leominster, Si?’

Danny gave him no opportunity to reply. ‘You’re not going,’ he said. ‘You can’t go. We’re meant to be together. What about us – our future?’

‘There is no us – we have no future. Can’t you see that? Whenever I’m with you, I’ll always be thinking about what happened here. The only way any of us can hope to
forget is to stay well away from one another – and even then . . .’ I trailed off, allowing Danny another opportunity.

‘That’s crazy. Tell her she’s crazy, Si. The only way is to stick together.’

I turned to Simon, deliberately blanking Danny. ‘Please will you drive me into Leominster – if not this afternoon then first thing tomorrow?’

‘Don’t take her,’ Danny butted in. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s saying. By tomorrow she’ll have changed her mind.’

We both faced Simon, forcing him to choose.

‘The nursery isn’t on the way to Leominster,’ he said. He didn’t say it as if he was making a decision; it was just an observation, spoken in a flat tone of voice, as if
in response to a different question posed by some other voice we couldn’t hear.

I decided to assume he had declined. ‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll make my own way.’

Danny tried to put a conciliatory arm around my shoulders. ‘Why not sleep on it?’ he suggested, in a much kinder tone.

I shrugged him off. ‘I’m going to pack,’ I said.

THIRTY-TWO

I stamped out of the kitchen, not exactly slamming the door but undoubtedly applying greater force than was necessary. I would show them. Even biddable old Katy had her
limits.

The few minutes it took me to shovel everything into my rucksack afforded sufficient time to contemplate the realities of the situation. The afternoon was already well advanced and I was at
least four or five miles from the nearest town. I didn’t know what time the buses ran, or where they ran to, and even if I could get to Leominster it was probably too late to complete my
complicated train journey that night. A bed and breakfast would eat deep into my precious travel fund, even assuming that I could find somewhere to stay. I wasn’t equipped for camping. I
could try hitch-hiking, but it wasn’t recommended for women on their own and sure as eggs were eggs I would fall in with a murderous psychopath and finish up dead in a ditch.

As I fastened the straps of my rucksack I heard the first patter of raindrops on the window. Great – that was all I needed. How long would it take me to walk five miles? When I lifted the
rucksack off the bed, I was also forced to consider how far I could actually carry it.

I decided to appeal directly to Simon again. Maybe if Danny wasn’t around, I could persuade him to run me into Leominster straight away. I wasn’t mad about the idea of being on my
own in the car with Simon, but I was spurred on by the thought that an immediate departure might still see me in London that night, if not at the coast itself.

I descended the stairs cautiously because I didn’t want to encounter Danny if I could avoid it. I had more than half expected him to follow me upstairs and attempt to convince me of the
error of my ways – but he was probably giving me time to cool off. He would not have banked on my being packed and ready to leave in ten minutes flat.

The kitchen door was closed so I got right up to it before I heard voices coming from the other side. Damn it – I had counted on Simon being alone but they were both still in there. I was
about to creep away again when I heard my name. I didn’t catch what Simon was saying about me, but Danny’s reply came through loud and clear. ‘Not on your life. Katy stays here
with us.’

‘I say let her go if she wants to. I could take her to the station this afternoon.’

I laid a hand on the door, elated to discover that Simon had apparently come down on my side.

‘She doesn’t really want to go,’ Danny began, but Simon interrupted him.

‘Yes, she does – and we’d be better off without her.’

‘Don’t say that about Katy.’ The sudden anger in Danny’s voice took me by surprise. My hand jerked away from the door as if the panels were red hot. ‘You just want
her out of the way.’

‘I’m just thinking about what’s best for all of us. And she doesn’t know, does she?’

‘What do you mean?’

There was a pause. When Simon spoke again his delivery seemed slower and more precise than it had ever been. ‘I covered for you. When the police came and asked me about the
screwdriver.’

The words stopped me dead. The cold from the stone floor travelled upwards, stiffening me like washing frozen on a clothes line. It seemed to take forever before Danny spoke again.

‘I don’t know what you’re going on about that for.’ I found it impossible to gauge his mood. He sounded half amused, half irritated. ‘The screwdriver was easy
enough to explain. There’s no problem about that.’

‘Only that it wasn’t true,’ said Simon.

‘What? Are you saying you
don’t believe
they found the screwdriver in that girl’s room?’

‘No. I’m saying I lied about it to the police.’

‘Well, that’s what friends are for, Si.’

‘That’s not why I did it. By then we were all up to our necks and I had no choice.’

‘Come off it, Si. You did it because you
lurve
me.’

‘Piss off,’ said Simon, angrily; but the words ended in a sort of sob.

‘We’re best mates, you and I – always will be, yeah? But don’t imagine you can blackmail me with fairy stories about screwdrivers.’ Danny’s tone hardened as
he continued. ‘Nothing you or anyone else can do is going to stop me being with Katy. I’m in love with Katy and you just can’t take that, can you?’

‘You don’t know what it’s like to really care about someone,’ Simon burst out. ‘You don’t have feelings like other people. You’re not – not
normal.’

‘
I’m
not normal. That’s a good one, coming from you! I’ve started to think I’m the only one who is normal round here. Everyone knows you’re as bent as
a five bob note.’

‘At least I’m honest about it – with myself and other people.’ Simon’s voice rose to a shout. ‘At least I’m not a nutter – why did you do it, you
bastard? Why? Why?’

There was no sound from the kitchen for several minutes, then Danny spoke again. He sounded perfectly calm and friendly. ‘Look, Si, you’re the greatest, right? We’re a good
team. Butch and the Kid. Laurel and Hardy. Morecambe and Wise.’

A chair scraped across the floor. I couldn’t tell which one of them it belonged to. After a moment Danny spoke again. ‘The three of us were great together. There wasn’t any
friction until Trudie came along – how about the Grand Tour of Europe? We’re still on for that, right? Nothing’s really changed.’

When Simon eventually spoke his voice echoed all the disbelief I was experiencing myself – but there was something more – a sense of utter despair. ‘I lied for you. I thought
it was the right thing to do – but now I see I was wrong. I’ve done a terrible thing and ruined my whole life. I can’t take back what I told them, even if I wanted to. I’m
implicated now whatever happens. So’s Katy. I wondered if she was in it too – but she wasn’t, was she? It was all you.’

‘Si, Si, what are you saying?’ Danny was soothing as syrup. ‘You’re talking rubbish, man. They’ve got absolutely nothing on any of us. You explained to them what
happened about the screwdriver and they went off satisfied.’

‘I lied to them about the screwdriver,’ said Simon. ‘You know I lied, because I lent it to you. You told me you needed to borrow it, to help some girl fix the plug on her
hairdryer. You told me you’d lost it.’

There was an explosion inside my head. Blinding white light obliterated everything, laying waste to thought processes. I staggered backwards away from the kitchen; putting out a hand to steady
myself against the hall table, feeling my way along the bottom of the banisters like a blind man. I shook physically as the aftershocks continued to pulse through my brain, jangling like a hundred
broken mirrors. When I reached the stairs I sank down on to the bottom step, holding my head in my hands, trying to stem the awful pain you only experience when something splinters your soul.

They were shouting at one another now, my fellow conspirators; but the short distance I had put between us, coupled with the thickness of the door, prevented me from hearing what they were
saying. I couldn’t even distinguish between their voices.

The same idea went round and round in my head like a merry-go-round – Simon thinks he killed her – Simon thinks he killed her – over and over, flashing silver sparks,
overheating, until the fairground music became a constant scream.

Danny had killed Rachel Hewitt. Danny had borrowed Simon’s screwdriver, and used it as a ruse to gain entry to her room on the pretext of mending her hairdryer. Why? Why? Surely not just
to win some stupid academic prize. Only a madman would behave thus. But if Simon was telling the truth, then it was no wonder Danny had been so anxious to conceal Trudie’s accident from the
authorities. I didn’t want to believe it was true but I could see why it might be. Simon hadn’t known about the screwdriver being found in Rachel Hewitt’s room until after we had
buried Trudie – and by then it was too late. He was certainly right about that. By then we had implicated ourselves too deeply for anyone to believe in an accident.

‘Hey, what are you doing here?’ Danny startled me, opening the kitchen door without warning and emerging into the hall. He came straight to where I was sitting. ‘Have you been
crying?’ His voice was full of genuine concern. His eyes tried to engage with mine. A part of me still wanted to believe in him, even as I wanted to escape.

‘I overheard you and Simon. I heard Simon saying things – I know you killed her.’

Danny’s face didn’t register surprise. He scarcely hesitated. ‘It was for you,’ he said. ‘I did it for you.’

I looked up at him not comprehending. I’d never met the girl.

‘She was coming between us,’ he said. ‘I had to stop her.’ His expression sought my understanding – my approval. He was saying that he had killed someone for the
love of me.

Then I did understand.

I leapt to my feet and flung myself up the stairs. This must have taken him by surprise, because he didn’t move immediately – just stayed where he was at the foot of the staircase,
saying, ‘Katy . . . Katy – wait.’

By the time I reached the bedroom I could hear him coming after me, so I slammed the door shut and cast around for the nearest movable heavy object, which was an old-fashioned armchair with an
upholstered back and seat. I dragged it behind the door and sat on it, just in time to stop him opening the door.

When he realized he couldn’t get in he shoved the door a couple of times, jolting me and my chair, but not managing to dislodge us.

‘Katy . . .’ His gentlest voice, appealing and persuasive, slightly muffled by the solid panels. ‘Don’t be daft. Let me in.’

‘No. Go away.’

‘Katy – come on. I need to talk to you – face to face. I need to explain.’

‘Go away,’ I shrieked.

I could see myself reflected in the long narrow mirror which was set in the wardrobe door. I looked bizarre, enthroned on the high-backed armchair, my face scarlet with the effort of thwarting
the intruder, my expression demented.

Danny began to push steadily against the door. My feet started to slip – he was stronger and heavier than me. A dark gap appeared between the door frame and the door, faithfully recorded
in the wardrobe mirror; but by the time the gap had opened three or four inches the chair had slid me within reach of the bed. I braced my hands and feet against it, feeling as if my knee joints
were liable to snap. Either this additional barrier defeated him or else Danny decided to concede, because the pressure ceased abruptly and I capitalized on his temporary surrender by shunting
myself and the armchair back against the door in a single movement.

‘Katy, come on – let me come in and talk to you.’

I didn’t respond.

‘Okay.’ Danny attempted a tone of cheerful resignation. ‘I’ll talk to you from out here.’

I stayed silent.

‘We’re
supposed
to be together, Katy. We love one another. It’s meant to be. You and me – together.’ He paused, got nothing in return, continued:
‘Trudie was trying to take you away. She was leading you astray, in fact. Can you hear me, Katy? You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’

I said nothing.

After another brief pause he went on. ‘I know you can hear me. Listen, babe, I’m not blaming you. She was leading you on – I know that. It’s not normal – all that
girl with girl stuff. She was . . . defiling you. As soon as Simon told me he’d seen the two of you together, I knew I had to stop her . . . Aren’t you going to say anything,
Katy?’

I couldn’t say anything. I sat in my chair rocking to and fro, my lips and brain frozen.

‘Katy, I did it for us. Look – I’m going to come back later when you’re feeling calmer and we’ll talk it through. You’ll see it was the right thing in the
end.’

I heard the stairs moan out their discordant concerto as his feet descended. It was weird the way the stairs were sometimes so noisy and sometimes quiet – not like a normal house where you
got to know the location of all the loose boards. Here everything was as variable as shifting sands.

I was rooted to the chair, not daring to relinquish my guard on the door in case he came straight back. He wasn’t even bothering to deny it. Was I dreaming this? Had I somehow
misunderstood?

I forced my mind back to the night in the woods – the first moments when I found myself alone in the dark. I had called out to Danny but his light had disappeared. The only light I had
seen was a much smaller one in the distance – Trudie’s light, which I had attempted to follow before I lost sight of it among the trees – but Danny had been somewhere between us.
He must have switched off his lamp and followed Trudie, crept along in the dark until he caught up with her in the playground.