Lucas (24 page)

With the trees in sight, I clambered up the hedgebank, squeezed through a gap in the hedge, and dropped down into a cornfield on the other side. I made my way along the edge of the field to a barbed wire fence at the bottom, carefully straddled it, then slid down a dusty bank, and there I was – in the woods. It seemed like a different world. Although the trees weren't high enough to provide any shade, the light had dimmed and the air was suddenly
cool. It was the kind of light you see in those scrubby little woods that run alongside motorways, a cold and forgotten light. It had no energy. It was almost as if it had given up trying, as if it had said to itself – what's the point? there's nothing here … why shine when there's nothing to shine on?

I moved into the heart of the woods and started walking. There was no path, but the land was so sparse I didn't need one. Although Joe's lane wasn't visible, I could see his farm house in the distance, and over to the east I could see the sunlight reflecting on the bay, so all I had to do was head for a point halfway between the house and the bay and I knew I'd come out somewhere along the lane.

Beneath my feet the earth was dry and dusty. The air was cool and still and there were no midges or mosquitoes to bother me. There was no sign of life at all. No birds, no flowers, no nothing. The woods were stark and silent.

I walked on.

The lane wasn't far away, but it seemed to take a long time to get there. At one point the land sloped down into a marshy area full of rotten tree stumps and boggy pools, and I was forced to walk around in circles for a while to find a safe way through. When I eventually got back to dry land again I didn't know where I was. I scrambled up a small hillock and looked around, trying to work out where the lane was, but everything looked different. My perspective had changed. The trees looked taller, then smaller. The sky was greyer. The horizon was facing the wrong way … then, just as I was beginning to think I was lost, everything suddenly clicked into place. It was like one of those magic-eye pictures. One second I was staring hopelessly at a blur of meaningless dots, and then, in an instant, the dots took shape and I was staring past the trees at a wooden
gate set in an overgrown hedge about ten metres away. Beyond the gate I could see the welcoming lines of the lane.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the gate in case it disappeared again, I hurried on through the trees. The silence was fading now. I could hear farm sounds. The faint scrabble of chickens. A tractor away in the fields somewhere. And beyond that, a distant metallic hammering, as if someone was beating on a sheet of steel. I wondered if it was Lucas. What might he be doing? Fixing a barn roof? Putting in fence-posts? Whatever he was doing, I imagined he'd be hot. Hot and thirsty, tired and sweaty …

I climbed the gate and dropped down into Joe's lane.

Now that I was out of the woods the light had brightened again and the lane was lush and colourful. Tall hedges either side of the lane were thick with flowers and berries, and the air was sweet with the smell of honeysuckle. Butterflies flitted around in the warm air. I used to visit the lane quite a lot when I was a kid, sometimes with Dad, sometimes with Bill, occasionally on my own. It was a nice place to walk, especially in summer when the butterflies were out, and I always felt at home there. But I hadn't been this way for some time, and the lay-out of the lane seemed to have changed. It was different. I'm not sure
how
it was different – maybe it was just the state of my mind – but everything seemed unfamiliar. The lane was narrower and more wiggly than I remembered, and the hedges were too high to see over, so it was almost impossible to judge exactly where I was. Not only that, but I didn't know where Jamie Tait and the others were planning on meeting Lucas.

I stood there for a moment, thinking.

They wouldn't come from the direction of the farm house, I was pretty sure of that. If they did, they'd run the
risk of missing Lucas. Unless they came down our lane and cut through the woods, they'd have to come along the beach. And I couldn't see them cutting through the woods … no, they'd come along the beach. They'd have to. It was the only way.

I went over to the gate and clambered up. By keeping close to the hedge and grabbing hold of a hawthorn branch for balance, I managed to get myself into a standing position on top of the gate. I didn't feel too safe, but at least I had a reasonable view of my surroundings. To my left, I could see the lane winding down towards the beach. I couldn't actually see the beach, nor where the lane came out, but I could tell that it wasn't too far away. In the other direction, I could see the distant outline of Joe's farmhouse surrounded by an assortment of barns and outbuildings, and from there I could follow the trail of the lane down through a maze of coloured fields. There were squares of bright yellow oilseed rape, the blue of borage, and golden corn … but I couldn't see Lucas anywhere. I stretched up higher, standing on tiptoe, searching the fields … then the gate started wobbling and I came to my senses and carefully climbed down.

I had what I needed.

The way I saw it, Jamie, Lee and Dom would come along the beach and then turn up the lane and wait for Lucas somewhere between the gate and the farmhouse. They couldn't afford to wait at the bottom of the lane in case Lucas turned off at the gate and went through the woods. Dom knew about the gate to the woods, and I was assuming that Jamie and Lee did too. But, even if they didn't, I guessed they'd want to meet Lucas somewhere quiet, somewhere they could get on with things without being disturbed.

I looked around. The lane here was narrow, hidden from view, no one ever came here … it was as good a place as any.

I started looking around for a place to hide, walking down the lane for a bit, looking in the hedgerows, then back up again, towards the farmhouse. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, and I thought it might take a while, but after a few minutes I found it. It was just past the gate on the right-hand side going up – an odd little place where the hedge had thinned and the bank was low enough to let me through to the field on the other side without too much trouble. I was only wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and by the time I'd squeezed through the hedge my arms and legs were covered in scratches. The field on the other side was filled with tall stalks of maize. I crossed over to the thickest part and crouched down among the stalks in line with the cut-away bank. It was perfect. I could see through to the lane, but no one could see me.

It was quiet. I could hear all the sounds you never normally hear – the rustle of unseen mice, insects calling, the sea breeze whispering in the air. It was comfortable, too. The ground was shady and soft, and the maize had a nice grainy smell to it. If the circumstances weren't so dire it would have been a pleasant spot to while away a few hours.

I got myself into an agreeable position, made sure I had a good view of the lane, then settled down to wait.

One of the things I find strange about characters in books and films is that they hardly ever need to use the lavatory. You see them doing all kinds of things – falling in love, having fights, driving cars, eating food, drinking whiskey,
smoking cigarettes, having sex, taking drugs – but the only time you see them visiting the lavatory is when they need to escape from somebody by climbing out of a window, or else when they're going to get beaten up or stabbed or something. You never hear anyone say, Excuse me, I just need to go for a wee. Or if you do, you know they're not
really
going for a wee, they're going to climb out of the window or get beaten up or stabbed or something. I know it doesn't matter, but it just seems odd that something so fundamental, so universally essential, is almost completely ignored. I'm not saying I
want
to see actors in films going to the lavatory every ten minutes, it's just that when I'm watching a film or reading a book I can't help wondering every now and then if so-and-so needs a wee. I'll be watching Leonardo DiCaprio running around on a sinking boat, or Russell Crowe doing a bit of gladiating, and I'll suddenly find myself thinking – he hasn't had a wee for ages, he must be
bursting
.

Like I say, it doesn't really matter. I only mention it because as I was waiting there crouched in the maize I suddenly realised that
I
was bursting for a wee. I don't know where it came from … maybe it was nerves … it just crept up on me. One second I was sitting there nice and snug, the next I was fidgeting about trying to work out what to do about it. At first I kept telling myself to ignore it, hold it in, this isn't the time or place to be worrying about your bladder. But after a while I couldn't ignore it, I really
had
to go. Luckily, there was plenty of cover. I didn't want to pee where I was hiding, but I didn't want to lose sight of the lane either. So I crept out of my hiding place and scuttled over to the hedge where I found a spot just to the side of the gap where there was a stray little patch of maize. Although the hedge was dense, I was close enough
to see through to the lane, and I was pretty sure that no one could see me. I paused for a moment, took a good look around, then lowered my shorts, squatted down and started to pee.

It was then I heard voices coming up the lane.

They were close, surprisingly close. I couldn't understand how they'd got so close without me hearing them. I could hear Jamie Tait booming away about something, and then Dominic, muttering in agreement. They were getting closer all the time. I stopped peeing and looked over my shoulder. They were right there – I could see them through the hedge; Jamie in front, Dom to one side, and Lee Brendell slumping along behind them. A half-empty bottle of whiskey was dangling from Jamie's hand and his shirt was hanging open. Lee Brendell had a big fat joint stuck in his mouth, and Dom looked totally fed up. Suddenly, I wasn't so sure that I couldn't be seen. If I could see
them
so clearly …

Damn.

I shouldn't have panicked. I should have kept perfectly still and stayed where I was … but I wasn't thinking. In hindsight, I hadn't been thinking all day. Right up to that moment I'd been kidding myself that nothing was going to happen. At worst, I was going to wait for an hour or so in the maize, meet Lucas, and somehow persuade him to go back the other way, or maybe hide in the maize with me …

But now the stupid dream was over. And as the nightmare sank in, I panicked.

My first mistake was trying to pull up my shorts and run for cover at the same time. The combination of fear, vanity, and embarrassment, and a complete lack of thought, sent me tumbling to the ground with my shorts around my knees. My second mistake was grabbing at my
shorts as I fell instead of putting out a hand to cushion my fall. If I'd put out a hand I probably wouldn't have caught my knee on a jagged piece of metal half-buried in the ground, and the jagged piece of metal wouldn't have sliced into my skin, and I wouldn't have let out a sharp cry of pain. And without that sharp cry of pain, no one would have known I was there, and I wouldn't have ended up lying half-undressed in a field of maize with Jamie Tait clambering through the hedge, leering at me with drunken eyes.

I
managed to get my shorts up before Jamie could get a good look, and then I scrambled to my feet. A sharp pain stabbed in my knee. I glanced down to see blood streaming from a deep gash. A drunken curse made me look up. Jamie was walking unsteadily towards me, swigging from the whiskey bottle and licking his lips. His feet stumbled in the dirt. His face was red from drinking and his eyes were shrunk to pin-holes. They fixed on me like laser beams.

‘Look at this,' he said. ‘Look at
this
…'

‘Stay there,' I told him, backing away.

He laughed. ‘Why – what you gonna do? Set your dog on me? Woof woof …' He stopped a short distance from me and took a swig from the bottle. Whiskey spilled from his mouth. ‘Here,' he said, offering me the bottle. ‘You wanna drink? Have a drink … go on.'

I shook my head.

‘What's the matter? Eh? Look at you …' He wiped his mouth and looked me up and down, nodding at my knee. ‘Nasty … want me to kiss it better? Give it a suck?'

‘Leave me alone,' I said.

He grinned and started edging towards me. My heart was pounding and my throat was dry. I'd never been so scared in my life. I backed away some more, wondering where the hell Dominic was. Over Jamie's shoulder I could see Lee Brendell watching idly through the gap in the
hedge, but there was no sign of Dominic. Brendell kept glancing behind him, looking down at the ground, and I began to fear the worst.

‘Dominic!' I called out.
‘DOMINIC!
'

Jamie stopped in his tracks. ‘Shut up,' he said quietly.

I started to shout again – ‘Domin—' but before I could finish Jamie stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. It didn't hurt that much, but the shock of it was absolutely stunning. He hit me. He actually
hit
me. I couldn't believe it. No one had
ever
hit me. A surge of ice-cold rage shot through my veins and without thinking I started lunging towards him. He didn't move. He simply stared at me, daring me to try it. The look in his eyes drained the life out of me. As I cowered away, I heard Dom's voice calling out weakly from behind the hedge.

‘Cait … Cait?'

Jamie turned and called out to Lee. ‘Put him
out
, chris-sake.'

Brendell disappeared from view. I heard a scuffle, then a dull thump, followed by a groan … and another dull thump … and then it was quiet. Brendell sauntered back to the gap in the hedge and nodded at Jamie. Jamie turned back to me. The grin was gone. His eyes were cold and dull.

‘Come here,' he said.

I shook my head.

Without a word he reached out and grabbed me by the arm and began dragging me across to the hedge. I struggled at first, but the more I pulled the tighter he gripped me, digging his fingernails into my skin. I gave up struggling and stumbled along beside him. He wasn't talking any more. His face was set in a trance-like gaze and he was continually licking his lips and wiping his mouth with the
back of his hand. Up close, he smelled disgusting – a foul mixture of whiskey, cigarette smoke, and sweaty after-shave.