Memory Scents (6 page)

              Daphne became a familiar face to people after a while, visiting the same places. Frowning, inquisitive looks had turned into cheery hellos and a brief passing of time. Those people knew her as Daphne and no one else and she found this immensely liberating. She’d picked a town roughly fifteen miles away where she could safely immerse herself. No one there had any idea that she had a son and a husband at home. They knew nothing about her, thought she was a loner. She liked it that way, it was comfortable and familiar and it made her feel whole and complete.

              There was no guilt involved for Daphne; she knew she needed this life to be able to continue with the other one. Leaving either life wasn’t an option for her. She’d made her bed and she would lie in it, now, more comfortably than before. Had she been aware of what Tim was going through while she was away from him, she would have felt very different.

              And as Daphne now sat on the bench sipping her tea and enjoying the peace, her son was sat in a pitch black, damp cellar, wishing for the entire world that his mother would come home and rescue him. 

*

Norfolk 1998

              “There was no need for you to tell Chrissie all that nasty business about the murdered children. What on earth were you thinking? She’s only just moved in and she’s trying to get used to the place. Thanks to you, she’s probably frightened out of her wits!”

              “Oh shut up, you stupid woman! Someone was bound to tell her. You know what the gossips are like in the village, I’ve done her a favour.” Tim said, opening the fridge door to see if there were any leftovers to quell his hunger. Drinking beer at lunch time always made him hungry, even if he had already eaten at the pub.

              “And what makes you think that you were the right person to relay that information?” Grace searched his face for any sign of a nervous reaction.

              “Just being neighbourly. If I’d have left it to the gossips she would have heard some half baked story more frightening than the truth, which would have had her packing her bags and leaving. At least what I’ve told her is a matter of fact, without all the bullshit with it.”

              “I can’t understand why you would think that anything could be more frightening than the truth of all that happened to those poor little souls. And what makes you an expert on delivering the facts?”

              Grace leant on the kitchen worktop and folded her arms. She scrutinized his face while he busied himself with some bread and cheese, but to no avail. Not a flicker; he was as cool and calm as normal. This only made her more agitated and she needed to watch her step. The last thing Grace wanted to do was to let him know that she knew what he’d done all those years ago. She wasn’t frightened of him killing her, just the fact that he might do it before she got the pleasure of doing it to him first.

              Grace felt she had already experienced the worst kind of fear and pain that any human being could go through. She wasn’t worried about dying; that would be a time to go to sleep and be put out of the misery that she’d endured through her lifetime. No, dying was a luxury. There had been a time when she’d wanted that experience to happen sooner rather than later. That had been the day her daughter had died in a terrible accident. She’d felt that she’d died right there and then with her on the day the police knocked at her door. Dying, for Grace felt like it would have been a light relief from the horrendous nightmare that she was about to go through.

              She remembered an unconscious thought fleeting through her mind when she saw the two officers walking up the path; that they’d come to tell her that Tim was dead. Not her precious daughter.

              Nadine had been playing in the garden of an old derelict house and hadn’t seen the open cess pit. The police said they thought that Nadine had been playing whilst waiting for her friend who lived next door. A dog walker had seen her there and had told her to move on saying it was dangerous but she’d ignored him. It was when he heard her screams after he’d got some way past her that he knew something bad had happened and alerted the police from a phone box. He searched for Nadine with the help of her friend Pauline and Pauline’s Father, who had heard the commotion because he was working nearby. They almost fell down the cess pit themselves, it was so well camouflaged.

              That day had happened almost ten years ago but it was as clear as the minutes passing now. She could even remember the warm sunshine peeking through the rain clouds making them look like they were lined with silver. But there was no silver lining that day or any of the days that had followed for Grace. Tim had dealt with his grief in his own selfish way. Leaving her for days on end to lose himself in his sailing and then coming back for such a brief time she hardly noticed he was there. Even though she yearned for some support, she realised looking back she hadn’t wanted it from him. All the times she’d screamed at him that he wasn’t there for her, she actually realised in her quieter, less hysterical moments that he had done exactly what she wanted, which was to leave her alone. How could she gain any sort of comfort from someone she thought was emotionless and weak?

              So Grace was looking forward to the luxury of dying but not until she’d had the pleasure of killing Tim first and making it look like a tragically sad accident.

         
This comforting thought passed through her mind as she watched him sink his teeth into the bread and cheese he’d prepared for his supper.

*

              Tim found himself wandering past his shed and down the garden path and through the gate. He didn’t quite know what he was doing but he knew where he was going.

              He was becoming increasingly bored with his boxes of memory scents; the smells were fading fast. Until he worked out what he was going to do next he needed to occupy himself with something else and that was to have a bit of fun.

              Chrissie had made a huge mistake telling him about her little problem. He laughed to himself at how women were so over-emotional and stupid; couldn’t keep anything to themselves, not like men. Tim thought he was especially good at it. He knew that the only way to continue enjoying what you were doing was to keep your mouth shut. He believed that the only person you could ever trust was yourself.

              And that was why Tim had got away with all his gruesome activities. He’d not told a soul, not even his Mother, with whom he shared the most secrets.

              He contemplated this little gem of information about himself as he walked down the dimly lit lane towards Chrissie’s house. He wanted to go and sit in his favourite shed at the bottom of her garden, so that he could think about what he was going to do next. That particular old shed held fond memories for him and there was still a faint smell from the past that he could detect if he breathed in hard enough.

              It was time to plan some excitement and by the time Tim finished, Chrissie would have a perfect understanding of the meaning of fear. Tim would make sure she would feel like she had completely lost her mind.

              It would be a part pay back for the spectacular escape she had made when she was a child. It had taken him a while to work out the familiarity of her. The smell was similar to that of when she was younger, but only a hint. It was her eyes that had given her away. Those fascinatingly beautiful blue eyes that almost looked like they were coloured lenses because they were so bright. Tim recognised her when they were talking about her house, and from her scared expression. He couldn’t place her in that capacity at first, not until she mentioned she had holidayed with her parents in the village for many years as a child. It caused a memory to flash across his mind. He remembered that scared look very well, and what a beautiful little child she’d been.

              Chrissie was on holiday with her family and Tim had watched her for almost a week, waiting to pounce on her as soon as her family left her alone. There were three little girls but he’d only been interested in her. Partly because of her alluring eyes but also because she’d passed him innocently in the local post office, leaving a scent behind her that had captivated him. A child like smell mixed with washing powder and soap and a slight scent of unwashed hair with remnants of the sea.

              Tim was slightly worried she was on to him; why else would she have moved here? He was so conceited; he couldn’t imagine anyone making a decision that didn’t concern him being taken into account. Even though Chrissie hadn’t appeared to have known who he was, Tim needed to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn’t put two and two together. Logically he couldn’t see how she could link him to anything because he had never let her see his face back then.

              Luckily for Tim, on this occasion he had picked the night time to abduct Chrissie. If he hadn’t, she would have been able to give the police a full description of his face. Tim was usually the last person that his victims saw, but he hadn’t been Chrissie’s. He remembered her being a strong little thing, not wanting to give up without a fight. He was surprised at her will to live. His other victims had given up after what Tim saw as only a tiny struggle, pathetic and weak. The fact remained, it had been pure fear that had caused their bodies to fail in their functioning, that and Tim’s rough handling.

              That particular night, he’d gone into the garden of the holiday cottage where Chrissie and her family were staying. He’d observed whilst watching her and her family that Chrissie would go back outside after she’d got ready for bed and sit on the old swing in the garden. Her mother regularly called her in but she ignored her until she was physically marched upstairs to bed.

              Tim thought the best way of enticement would be to make a noise like an animal to draw the little girl to the gate. It worked and with very little effort he grabbed the tiny six year old, clamped his hand over her mouth and took her a little way down the track to a nearby back garden where he knew of an old unused shed. He knew it was quiet there, because it was so far away from the house that it belonged to. 

              It was to be that same house and garden that Chrissie bought, many years later.

              It was all as simple as that, in those few seconds that any parent whose child has gone missing wishes they could rewind. Those missing minutes that can never be repeated.

              Luckily for Chrissie it all back fired on Tim because, being used to taking children during the daylight, the night time seemed to have short-footed him. So, while he was trying to deal with a small child who was kicking but unable to scream, he didn’t notice the slight step into the old shed and as he stumbled forward he lost his grip of her and Chrissie made her escape. She ran and ran and somehow managed to get back to the holiday cottage where her mother was frantically searching the garden for her.

              For the first time in his life, Tim had been scared. He rushed back to his house hoping that no one was in, so that he could hide his panic.

              The house had thankfully, been empty, because Grace was at a Women’s Institute meeting. This enabled Tim to turn on the lights, get something in the oven, and generally make it look like he had been there all evening. Tim knew that the whole place would be crawling with police in a matter of minutes; especially as they were on the hunt for a child killer. That was the only time he scolded himself for being stupid and genuinely felt he may have blown the whole thing.  

              Within half an hour he was back to his usual calm, cold self and when the police knocked on the door to let him know what had happened he looked like any other normal citizen who had spent an evening in on his own. The problem was Tim was so clever that he’d managed to convince the entire village that he was a pillar of the community. He’d been a serving police officer since he was old enough to join up. A local bobby, trustworthy and friendly, prepared to go that extra mile for someone else and always keeping a watchful eye over everyone’s children.

CHAPTER
FIVE

Dear Alice,

I think I’ve managed to convince Daddy to go on holiday without me. I know I’m going to miss him dreadfully but I just can’t bring myself to leave the house. He knows I wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. I’d be constantly wondering what was happening here. There in body but not in mind as they say. He refused at first and said he wouldn’t go at all but he needs a holiday desperately. He sees it as a way of moving on and I suppose we all deal with things differently, but it’s not a way forward for me. The thought of it is just pure torture.

              Anyway, I was reading an article the other day about how some people can suffer amnesia from shock or a bump to the head. In some cases they go wandering off, not remembering who they are. Sometimes, after a few years they just come to, and go looking for their real families. It gave me fresh hope because you were on your own that day, and you could have easily fallen over and bumped your head without anyone knowing.