Leave the Last Page (9 page)

‘I'll live.'

Grandma Patty screwed up her face a little. ‘Hmm. While we're on the subject, I think it's now worth asking: does anyone die in your version of the story, Tom?'

He shook his head. ‘No, but nobody gets their fingers crushed either.'

‘Indeed. According to the story he should have got here first, but instead we did.' She looked around at the destruction in the shop that the old man was now trying to put right, picking up broken bits and cursing under his breath as he did so. ‘And look at the mess he caused.'

‘He said he was late because he had something else to deal with. But there's nothing else for him to do in the story.'

Grandma Patty led Tom towards the door, now hanging from its hinges. ‘He didn't like it when I asked him about his motives for stealing the necklace. I don't think he likes being restricted by what's in your story, Tom.'

The breeze on their faces was welcome. ‘He mentioned an
enraged father
. Do you think that's my dad? Is that why he was late?'

‘It's possible. If he hasn't been there already, I think it might be where he's going next, even if it's not in your notebook.'

Grandma Patty put an arm on Tom's shoulder. ‘I think it's time we took you back home.'

BEN GAVE THE HOLLIDAYS SOME SPACE.

When they'd reached the family home, Alex and Charlotte had embraced each other, and quickly exchanged questions about each other's wellbeing. As they hugged again, Ben volunteered to put the kettle on and slipped into the kitchen.

As he made the drinks he took the opportunity to send his son, Daniel, a text.
Hope ur ok. Shud b back 4 dinner. Will get pizza.
Dan went back to his mother's the day after tomorrow, and as much as he felt he had to help the Hollidays, he knew he needed to spend some more time with his own son.
I need to get him off that damn computer and get him talking,
he thought. Giving him an update on today's crazy events would do that. Dan was hooked on this case – as well as Ben – having helped out already with the
last breath
lead.

He sent him another:
wait til I tell you about today.

Only, today wasn't over yet. Far from it. This Kildare –
Kildark
– character was likely to show up shortly. And what would happen then? Nothing from years of conventional police work was giving Ben any insight. They would just have to make the best of the situation when it arose.

He went into the living room with the mugs.

Alex took his drink. ‘Charlie, tell Ben what you've just said.'

She was twirling what Ben assumed was Kildare's business card around in her fingers. ‘He said he had the answers to all our money worries.' She looked at Alex when she said that and he bristled a little. Ben remembered what Alex had told him about hiding some of the facts of his failing business from his wife. She was clearly in the picture now. ‘He said that he would be back as soon as Alex returned, with a life-changing offer. He said he'd give us what we wanted.'

‘Do you think he has Tom?' asked Alex.

Ben shrugged. ‘According to the story, and what we saw, Tom and Patty are still in pursuit of him.'

‘That's what I thought.' Alex's eyes grew large. ‘So when he gets here, if we could keep him here…'

‘Tom and Patty might soon follow,' finished Charlotte. She spoke to Ben, but put her hand on her husband's knee. ‘Alex tells me you saw him walk?'

‘It was, I don't know, a projection of some sort, an image, but yes, walking by his grandmother's side.'

She blinked back tears and nodded.

Alex stood up abruptly. ‘I'm going outside. To check the perimeter of the house. Maybe I'll see him coming.' He left quickly.

Charlotte warmed her hands on her tea. She looked thoughtful as she took a sip. ‘Alex is a good man,' she said.

‘I know,' replied Ben, feeling a little uncomfortable.

‘Tom wasn't born paralysed. He walked for ten months. It was lovely.' She stared into her cup. ‘Like everyone, that's the time when you make your house safe for your little one. Extra cupboard locks, higher shelves, fireguards, stair gates…'

She watched through the living room window as Alex strode across the front lawn. ‘He blames himself, despite what the investigation proved. He was the one that fitted the stair gate, after all. He should have seen that it was faulty. He should have tested it more robustly. He even went so far as to blame himself for not having the wooden stairs carpeted – maybe that might have made all the difference.'

Ben understood. ‘I think parents never stop doing that, when things go wrong.'

‘Oh I know that, Detective Fields.' Her tone had changed a little. ‘I knew that Patty was going to take Tom out yesterday and I just let it happen. I could have put my foot down with Patty, or with Alex and insisted that Tom spent the day with friends and not his unreliable mother.'

‘None of this is anybody's fault. You mustn't blame yourself, either of you. I think Tom's going to come home today.' He knew he should never suggest such a thing in his line of work; it was important not to give false hope. But he wasn't working. And he did believe it.

‘I hope so, Ben. I don't think I can go another night without him.' She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. ‘I'm also worried that Alex is going to lose his mind. I tell him all the time that he's a great father, but he never seems to believe it. He knows he could do more, be around more, but I understand how hard he works. I would never ask him to sacrifice what he does just for us. I think he just wishes he could be two different people, be in two different places at once.'

Ben thought about Daniel. ‘I know how he feels.'

At that point they heard the front door open. Alex came back into the living room. ‘There's a black car parked outside. I think it's an Alfa Romeo Spider.'

Ben got to his feet. ‘That's our guy.'

The three of them stood in front of the living room window looking at the car parked on the other side of the road. It was still, and there was nobody in the driver's seat.

‘Did you see him?' Ben asked.

‘No. One second the road was clear, then the next time I looked, there it was. It was like it just appeared out of thin air.'

‘I have a habit of doing that.'

The three of them whirled round. Charlotte fell backwards onto the window sill. Alex took a step forward, but Ben held him back with an outstretched arm.

Sat on the sofa was the man in the black suit. Cross-legged, he thrummed his fingers against his knee. A foot rested on the coffee table. His grin brought goosebumps to Ben's flesh.

‘How did you get in?' demanded Alex.

‘There are many things that I can do that your little mind couldn't comprehend. There'll be many questions you will have that the answering of which would be pointless for your meagre intellect. In this instance however, your back door was unlocked. Please sit. This is your house, after all.'

Ben locked eyes with Alex. ‘It's alright. Let's just talk to him.'

They took seats around the room, none of them daring to sit too close to the unwelcome visitor. He leant forward though and extended an arm to Ben. ‘My business card,' he said. ‘The Hollidays already have one.' The detective pocketed it without looking at it; he didn't dare take his eyes off him.

The man in black rubbed his hands together. ‘Shall I begin? Why not. I have something that you need. You have troubles that I can solve for you. You need money-'

‘How do you know this about me?' asked Alex.

‘How I know doesn't matter. And as I have said, you can't presume to understand. Let us just deal with what I do know.'

‘Money doesn't matter,' said Charlotte. ‘We just want our boy.'

‘Of course – a mother's love. Him, I don't have, but he's close. I can sense it.'

Alex grabbed Charlotte's hand. ‘Then when he's home we won't have any more troubles.'

Kildark laughed. ‘How amusing! All of these things that you want and wish for are – if not literally – in my hands…' His fingers grew from his outstretched palms. ‘…and I'll decide who gets what.'

Ben saw the Hollidays recoil from the abnormal fingers and then deflate a little. He took up the conversation on their behalf. ‘So then what do you want? Why are you here?'

‘What I want is what we all want: answers. And I'd be willing to trade for the right answer, if you have it.'

‘Go on.'

‘You are weak where I am strong, but there is a more powerful force at work here. The thing that brought me to this pathetic world of yours. I would have it, and I think you know what it is. Give it to me, and the boy is yours.'

Ben jumped in before the Hollidays could answer. He didn't want them to give this
man
too much, even if he promised them Tom. ‘I'm a police detective and I'm in charge of this case. The origin of this mess was
you
, when you blew open the doors of the Sunnyside Care Home. Only you know why you did that. I was hoping you'd tell us.'

The man in black continued to grin, but Ben thought he didn't look as sure of himself as he did before. ‘Very good, detective, but I know you have more for me. You would not have been three paces behind us all this time if you had not. Even if I did have to pick you up and help you out once before.' He smirked. ‘Won't you help me now?'

‘We don't know what-'

‘You know!' he bellowed. His enlarged fist smashed through the coffee table. ‘You know what brought me here, so tell me!'

Alex scoffed. ‘But you are strong and we are weak.'

‘Don't make me show you how strong, little man. Don't make me show your boy how strong. Again.'

Charlotte gasped for breath. ‘Have you hurt him?'

‘Not much. Tell me what you know and I'll leave him alone.'

Ben stood up. ‘Tell him nothing, Charlotte. We can't trust him. He'll do what he wants, whatever we say.' The detective stared at Kildark. ‘You don't know why you're here, you don't know exactly what you're doing, and you don't know how this ends, and that worries you. You're not in charge and you don't like it.'

The man in black stood up, face to face with Ben. ‘No, I don't like it, but that doesn't mean I have to accept it. Nobody tells me what to do. Nobody influences my actions. Nobody! If I have to kill Thomas Holliday to prove that, I will do.'

The parents reacted emotionally: a hand over the mouth of the mother and the father scrambling to his feet. Ben held out his arm indicating that Alex should stand down. The detective then continued his verbal exchange with the stranger. ‘Yes, you might do that, but what if you're supposed to kill the boy? What if that is what you're expected to do? The force that controls you will make you do that, if that is what it wants.'

Kildark growled into Ben's face. His teeth had been shiny and white, but up close Ben saw something else in his mouth. Ben saw fangs, and a forked tongue. Ben smelled rotting meat on this creature's breath. This was no man.

‘This is not the end, Detective Benedict Fields. For you, for the Holliday family, or your own son.' Kildark must have seen Ben's look falter. ‘That's right, Benedict. I may not know everything, but I know enough to beat all of you foolish insects.' He pushed Ben across the room so that he slammed back into the armchair he had been sat in.

Kildark sniffed the air. ‘The boy and his grandmother approach. If I remain here I'll be leading them back home. Of course, if we were helping each other I would stay. However…'

He marched through the living room towards the front door. He almost tore it off its hinges.

Charlotte looked imploringly at Ben. ‘Don't let him go.'

Kildark was halfway across the front lawn when Ben caught up with him. He had his handcuffs ready, and when he spun the man in black around he snapped a cuff on his wrist. ‘You're staying here. I'll let you go when Tom and Patty are home.'

Then Ben felt a tightening in his stomach and a fire burning there.

He looked down.

Protruding from his belly was an inch of blade and a jewelled handle.

Kildark's wrist expanded and the cuff snapped. He opened up his jacket to reveal an empty sheath in the shape of a large tusk. He grabbed the ornate handle and removed the dagger from Ben's gut. Ben grunted and sagged as the blood poured freely. Kildark replaced the dagger in its tusk.

‘Was that expected, Benedict? Did the power you speak of make me do that? Ponder it if you wish, while you die.'

Ben's hands were wet with hot blood as he held on to his stinging stomach. His throat tightened and his vision blurred.

Daniel
, he thought, as he slumped to the cold grass.

Dan the Man.

Danny-Boy.

PATTY AND TOM WERE ON ANOTHER BUS, THIS TIME HEADING HOME.

It had been quite an adventure – chasing the black-suited man across town, avoiding wolves, battling giant tramps and hunting for artefacts – but now Tom would probably have to put that to rest and slip back into his old life. There was no way his mum and dad were going to let him out of their sight once he got back to the house.

But the story's not over yet.

This much he knew, but recalling all the details from the notebook pages yet to come was proving difficult. Yes, he'd written it – finished it only three days ago, in fact, but remembering the ending was tough. And the pages were still blank, even though he knew that they had once contained a plentiful amount of ink and smudges. He was sure that somehow his memory had been wiped.

He'd told Grandma Patty that nobody died in his story, but he couldn't be certain.

Would the story end when he got back home? Maybe.

Would it have a happy ending?
Maybe.

He gazed out of the window as the buildings went by in a blur. There were no answers out there.

Instead he put a hand out and laid it on Grandma's walking stick. He turned it slightly to read another sticker.

‘Grandma?'

‘Yes, love?'

‘Why don't I see lots of you normally? Don't you like to visit us?'

She shuffled a little in her seat so that she could look at his face. ‘Of course I like to visit you, Master Tommy. Why wouldn't I?'

‘Well, before yesterday I hadn't seen you in months.' He ran his fingers down her stick. ‘Is it because I can't walk?'

‘Whoa! Stop that right now!' She grabbed his chin between her finger and thumb. ‘Where's this come from, eh? What's made you think that?'

Tom shrugged. ‘We'll be at my house soon, this adventure will be over, and then you'll probably go home. I'll sit in Dodge, and things will go back to the way they were. And that means not really seeing you much.'

‘Tom. Who knew that you'd want your granny cramping your style? I'll see you every week, if you want. Every day.'

‘Don't say that when you know it won't be true. So why do I hardly ever see you? Do you not like us?'

She expelled a large breath. ‘I like you all just fine. You're my little Tommy Gun, your mum is a diamond, and your dad-'

‘Yes?'

Grandma Patty stared down the length of the bus. ‘Your dad is a good man who always does what he thinks is best.'

Tom considered that a little and thought he knew what it meant. ‘You don't agree on much, you two, do you?'

She gave a little huff. ‘I like to do things my own way, dress how I want, go where I please, say what I fancy. Your dad likes to do things by the book.'

Tom nodded. ‘You threw the book away.'

‘But not yours! That notebook safe? I bet we're going to need it when we get back to your house!'

He got the impression that she didn't particularly want to talk about it anymore. But Tom didn't want to leave it alone just yet. ‘Did you say or do something that he didn't like? Did you two fall out?'

‘Stubborn little monkey, aren't you? No, it wasn't one thing in particular. I'm just not very good adjusting what I want to say to sensitive ears.'

‘You mean
little
ears. You mean me when I was just a kid.' When he thought hard about it, he remembered her calling him
Tommy Gun
when he was small.

‘Your dad thought I was a bad influence. I did say something once that I shouldn't have.'

‘What did you say?'

‘I'm not bloody telling you! Oops, sorry.'

Tom smiled at his grandma's slip. ‘Go on, you might as well tell me. It can't be any worse than what we've been through today.'

‘No. Enough.' For once, Patty's face was stone.

Tom understood that he was going to get nothing more out of her. He looked back at the walking stick. ‘So this one – Iron Maiden. It describes you, right?'

‘No, cheeky, it's a heavy-'

‘-metal band, yes. What does it mean?'

‘An iron maiden was a medieval torture device, basically a huge cupboard in the shape of a woman that you locked people in. Only thing was that it had these nasty spikes inside so that when you closed it you skewered the person from head to toe, popping eyeballs, spilling their guts and draining them of blood.'

Tom smiled. ‘Yeah…maybe it's describing details like that to a little kid that got you in trouble with dad.'

‘Hmmm…could be. Here's our stop.'

*

The house was a short stroll away, and as the pavement of the avenue curved around, Tom's home came into view. He savoured every step, knowing that soon enough he would be reunited with Dodge and probably not let out of the house for at least ten years.

As they got closer he saw the front door open.

And the man in the black suit leave.

‘Look, Grandma! He's there! Do you think-'

‘-I'm sure your mum and dad will be fine. But I think we should hurry.'

Grandma's run wasn't the quickest since her tumble in the shop – more of a shuffle with her stick – so that when Tom got within a couple of houses of his own home, he was alone.

However, Kildark wasn't. Another man had come out of the house and had spun the villain around. Then Tom saw the flash of the Snuggerthang blade, and the man – police, thought Tom, because he'd seen handcuffs – crumple and slump to the ground.

Kildark left his victim and headed towards his car, parked across the street. Tom ran closer, to within shouting range. ‘Stop! What have you done? This shouldn't happen!'

Kildark paused, his hand on the door handle of his car. He beamed at Tom. ‘I think it's time you realised that it isn't up to you.'

Grandma Patty overtook Tom and went straight to the fallen police officer. Tom moved closer to Kildark. ‘It is up to me! It's my story. And although I can't remember it all, I know I would never have written anything like that. I know
me!
At the end of the day you're going to lose!'

Kildark slipped inside the driving seat but didn't close the door. He smiled at Tom. ‘The close we get to the end, Master Holliday, the more I get a feel – a sense – of this situation. I know you wrote a story, and I know why I'm here. The detective there said a few things that unlocked a few doors. I still managed to kill him though. As for me losing? Don't count on it.'

Grandma Patty's shout could be heard over the car engine. ‘Tom, get over here!' As Kildark drove off Tom followed his grandmother's call. She was crouched over the prostrate man, her hands covering his stomach wound. Blood seeped through her fingers and coloured the grass beneath him. ‘I don't know if I can help him! Run into the house and call an ambulance!'

As Tom turned to run he saw his mum and dad bounding down the path from the house. He tore off towards them.

But he only got so far. Ten paces away from his grandma and he found himself caught up in some invisible sludge. His legs became heavy and he couldn't move them any further forward. He feared the effects of the story wearing off on his ability to walk, but then when he pushed his arms closer to his parents he found that they got lodged in an invisible barrier too. He looked at his stricken family. They were two metres away, but were also caught up in something that prevented them from getting closer to him. His dad seemed to be wading through waist high, unseen mud.

‘The story won't let me get to them!' Tom shouted over his shoulder. He could see his mum calling his name but he couldn't hear anything.

‘But it let this poor man in! Come back and help me!'

Tom pulled out of the sludge and sprinted back to Grandma. The man was deathly pale and staring up at the sky. Grandma had unwrapped her scarf and balled it up against the man's stomach. She was pushing down as much as she could without crushing him. Tom dropped to his knees next to her. ‘What do you want me to do, Grandma?'

‘I don't know, Tommy. I don't think I can save him – there's nothing we can do.'

Tom leaned back a second. ‘Nothing we can do…but what about Helena and George? Helena would summon up a potion or something, a magic ointment.'

‘But Tom…'

‘What do you have in your bag, Grandma? Anything you can use? Grandma!'

Exasperated, she pulled him over the man's body. ‘Hold this down.' As Tom leant his forearms against the scarf, she rooted around in her large tartan handbag. After thirty seconds her hand came up with a half-full tube.

‘Toothpaste?'

‘Err, no. It's cream.'

‘For what?'

‘Haemorrhoids.'

‘What's that?'

‘I think this counts as one of those things you don't need to know about.'

‘Whatever, Grandma.' Tom lifted up the scarf. ‘Squeeze some of it here!'

‘Tom-'

‘It'll work!' He looked at the man's face. He'd passed out. ‘It has to!'

Patty squeezed the contents of the tube onto the man's stomach and smeared it in. The white cream soon turned pink. It looked like a bizarre layer of icing.

Patty pulled her hands away quickly. ‘It's hot!' They stared down at the messy mound. It was smoking.

Colour returned to the man's cheeks. His eyes flickered open. ‘What…what's happening?' He lifted his head to try and see his stomach.

‘You're going to be okay. My grandmother has worked some magic with a special cream!'

Patty smirked appreciatively. ‘It's never been that effective before!' She knelt by the man and smoothed the excess cream away from the wound. ‘It looks like you're going to be all better.'

The man looked confused. ‘But he…he stabbed me in the gut.'

‘Sit up and take a look.' She'd scraped away the pink ointment to reveal flesh through a tear in the shirt. Where there had been an ugly, deep wound, there was now just a scratch on a slightly bruised patch of skin.

Tom was looking back at his parents. They couldn't get near him, but that didn't stop his dad from trying, his arms outstretched, pushing against an invisible force. Tom noticed that the grass around their feet, along a line from the house to where the wounded man lay, was purple and slick. It seemed to be waving in an unfelt breeze, and then it appeared to be growing before his eyes. ‘Err, Grandma…'

The elongated blades started to wind themselves around the injured man's ankles. ‘We need to get him off the grass!' Tom shouted. He helped Grandma Patty by wedging his hands under the man's armpit and pulling. They dragged him clear of the aggressive grass. As they did so, Tom's view of his parents and his house started to fade. The images that he knew so well became blurry and hazy, and started to disappear. Looking through the house, fields stretched off into the distance. The air filled with a pink dust. ‘The story is taking over,' he said. ‘I'm losing my real life!'

He turned back to his grandma. She had got the man to his feet. ‘There's not a mark on him! You were right, Tom – anything in your story pages-'

‘The pages!' Tom pulled his notebook from inside his jacket. When he looked he saw that his ink had returned for a few more sides of the tale. He tore out a couple of sheets and ran towards his fading family. He got as far as he could then put them on the pavement, careful to avoid the grass, just in case. ‘For you, Dad!'

His father was virtually invisible at this point, but he could see what Tom was trying. The ghostly image was giving a thumbs up in acknowledgement. He mouthed some words. Tom thought the word
read
was in there.

And then that part of the world was gone. It was as if an imaginary circle had been drawn around them and then in the space of a ripple in the air and a puff of pink dust, something took Tom away from his ordinary world. When the dust settled the street was still intact, but his family had disappeared. In fact it looked like there was no life anywhere on the estate. The story was moving on, and they had to as well. There was no point staying here.

He looked at the lawn. The story pages had gone, so he could only assume that they were with Dad.

Grandma Patty was at his shoulder. ‘It doesn't want it all to be over just yet. Looks like even the story is fighting against you. I think the only way you'll get home is to push on and get to Kildark, and finish this thing off once and for all.'

‘Hopefully I can help,' said a voice behind them. They turned to form a circle with the detective. He had one hand on his stomach and the other on his bearded cheek. ‘I've been working the case with your parents. I've been pretty close to the story all the way through, and now it looks like I'm in it. My name's Ben Fields.'

They all shook hands, managing to accidently spread an amount of cream between them, then the detective's palms returned to his newly healed stomach. ‘Okay,' he said. ‘Now that I've experienced up close and personal exactly what your story can do, what's next?'

Tom was reading the side of the tube and smirking. This stuff was doing wonders for his bruised knuckles. He didn't catch everything that was said. ‘Hmm? What was that?'

‘I want to help you beat the man that just tried to kill me.'