Super Dark (Super Dark Trilogy) (3 page)

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t like Neil.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that,” she countered. “I just don’t want you throwing your life away when there’s so much you could be doing. I mean, when was the last time you went on a date?”

“Oh god, not that old chestnut,” I groaned.

“I’m serious, Sam. When was the last time?”

“When was the last time
you
had a date?” I retorted.

She stubbed out her cigarette in frustration. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And I say it’s time you started acting your age. Do what other seventeen-year-olds do! Go out and get wild for once.”

I drained the last of my coffee. “I feel a headache coming. I’m going to lie down for a while.”

***

The next day, I took the overland train from Elmfield to King’s Cross, where I transferred to a fast train to Lansbury. The journey usually took an hour, so I brought
Nineteen Eighty-Four
along to keep me company. Hard, wet rain against the windows blurred the outlines of the emerald hills we passed, and the rhythm of the wheels and the rocking of the carriage soon lulled me to sleep.

When the train finally pulled into Lansbury station, I shivered as I alighted on the platform. A fog of gloom hung over the place, a dark sense of abandonment. It was like a fairground out of season. At least the rain had stopped, so I avoided getting another soaking.

Anne and Neil’s home was a five-minute walk from the station. They still lived on the quiet, tree-lined street with rows of identical houses made of dark sandstone. Number forty-seven was the only one with a purple door—but I would have known the way blindfolded.

For a few long moments, I stood by the front gate, deliberating over whether or not to go in. Then, with an odd sense of nostalgia, I glanced up at the house next door—
my
old house. My parents had sold it after the divorce. A light shone in my bedroom window. Someone was in there, but I couldn’t see through the blinds.
It must be the new owners.

It was always weird coming back to my old neighborhood. It felt like a century had passed since Elliot and I had played here so happily as kids, unaware of the terrible nightmares ahead. It gave me an odd, wistful feeling.
I wish I could turn back time.

Cautiously, I unlatched the gate and made my way up the gravel drive, taking care to walk quietly. I rang the bell and waited.

A minute passed.

Two.

Just as I was turning to leave, I heard the thump of approaching footsteps from inside. Then the door opened and Anne appeared.

“Sam!” she said happily, flinging her arms around me. “So lovely to see you again! Come in, come in, you must be absolutely freezing, poor thing.”

She helped me off with my coat and hung it on the rack. Then she took me through to the living room. The place was decorated with a scattering of cozy Turkish rugs, a green corduroy sofa, and shelves stacked with books lining the walls. In the middle of the room, a silver tea set and a box of Twinning’s tea sat on a table. The heavenly aroma of something baking wafted out of the kitchen.

As she joined me on the sofa, Anne asked, “Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

“Two sugars?”

“Ha! You remembered,” I said with a laugh.

“I hope you’ll be staying for dinner?” she asked earnestly. “I’m making lamb chops with parsnips and carrots followed by tiramisu.”

“You bet!” I replied enthusiastically. “I hope you haven’t gone to too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all, my dear,” Anne said, patting my hand gently. “It’s not every day we get the pleasure of your company. Neil’s just popped upstairs, but he’ll be down in a bit.”

She poured the tea and handed me a cup. Then she went to the kitchen and came back with a tray of freshly baked cupcakes—my favorite treats, ever since I was five.

I stared at the floor a while, munching my cupcake and sipping tea, listening to a barrage of questions about my personal life. I tried my best to appear upbeat, but inside I was crying. Anne had aged so much since I’d last seen her. She’d lost weight; through her blue summer dress I could see how painfully thin her arms were. Streaks of silver tainted her once-auburn hair, and dark circles had formed under her eyes. She was wasting away.

“Hello, poppet,” said a gravelly voice from the doorway. “Come and give your old Uncle Neil a hug.” I looked up and saw a tall man with wavy, iron-gray hair.

“Hello, Neil,” I smiled, getting up.

He pulled me into a bear-hug and spun me round a couple times, making me shriek with laughter. As he put me down, I could detect the scent of alcohol on his breath.

“How’s your mother?” he asked brightly.

“She’s fine,” I replied. “She just started a new job at a charity.”

“Great, send her my regards.”

“I will.”

We went to the dining room where a table was set for three. Forcing a smile, I sat at the head of the table, with Neil and Anne on either side. From the way they kept fussing over me, I decided that they probably didn’t entertain guests very often, which wasn’t really surprising. The house had a deep melancholy feeling. On the other hand, the food was delicious. Anne was the best cook I knew—certainly better than my mother, whose signature dish was beans on toast.

After a while, we ran out of things to say and the three of us drifted into uncomfortable silence. Neil concentrated on his lamb chops, taking his time to cut the meat into tiny pieces. He rested his elbows on the table, chewing the meat methodically. He pushed a plate of carrots toward Anne. She pushed them back and shot a look of disgust at him.
Something is definitely wrong here.

“These parsnips are delicious Anne,” I said, breaking the tension.

“Glad you like them,” she replied, picking half-heartedly at her plate. “Oh, by the way, did Neil mention we’ve hired a private detective to review Elliot’s case?”

“No, he didn’t.” I wiped my mouth on a napkin. “Wow. That’s great.”

“It’s costing us a small fortune,” Neil enthused. “But I reckon it’ll be worth it. Harry’s only been on the case a few weeks and already he’s found some promising leads. He says there were loads of things the police missed the first time around. For example, did you know there was a sighting of a boy fitting Elliot’s description in Liverpool, just a week after he was went missing? A motorist said he saw him at a petrol garage, but nobody’s bothered to follow it up till now.”

“You’re kidding!” I exclaimed. “Why on earth didn’t the police investigate it at the time?”

Neil’s face darkened. “Because the motorist said the boy had brown hair, and Elliot’s is blond. So the police dismissed it.”

“But his abductors could have easily colored his hair as a disguise,” Anne put in excitedly. “What do you think, Sam? It’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Anything’s possible,” I murmured.

Her face was filled with hope. I could tell she desperately wanted to believe in this “breakthrough” and needed my reassurance.

Gently, I reached across and patted her hand. “This is the best news I’ve heard all week! Seriously, guys. I’m so pleased.”

I meant every word.

Their tenaciousness was astounding. After all this time, Anne and Neil still believed their little boy would be found. They still believed Elliot would one day be returned to them, unharmed. That was the reason they’d never sold this house. They’d kept Elliot’s bedroom exactly as he’d left it, because they wanted their baby to know where to find them—if he ever found his way home.

It was sweet—and heartbreaking.

As Anne chatted away, I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I really thought—what everyone thought.

Elliot was dead.

How could a child go missing for this long and still be alive?

Sure, there was a slim chance that maybe, just maybe, someone was holding him captive somewhere, living under an alias. Perhaps he’d been taken out of the country or given to adoptive parents.

But my gut instinct told me this was unlikely. Anne and Neil hadn’t been there that night. They hadn’t seen the evil on the faces of those two creatures or their cruel, hungry eyes. Only bad people snatched children. Wherever the Gruesome Twosome had taken Elliot, you can bet it wasn’t Disneyland.

After dinner, we went back to the living room, where Neil presented me with two gifts wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“What’s this?” I asked with a frown.

“Belated birthday presents,” Anne replied, smiling.

“Oh guys, you shouldn’t have.”

Anne and Neil exchanged knowing glances. “Why don’t you open them?”

I selected the biggest and tore the paper off. “A new hair dryer! It’s just what I needed. Thanks so much, guys.”

Their beams intensified. “Go on, dear. Open the other one.” Anne was bursting with anticipation.

I stuck my finger under the paper and carefully un-wrapped the box. Inside was a beautiful, framed picture of me and Elliot, aged about six. We looked like two cherubs, smiling happily for the camera without a care in the world. I’d forgotten how cute Elliot’s face had been, how striking his blue eyes were. I’d also forgotten how chubby he was. Anne was constantly feeding him.

Then I glanced at my younger self and felt a twinge of sadness. My face looked so innocent, so hopeful and alive. It was a face that hadn’t yet been stained by the evils of the world.

“Thanks, guys. I’ll treasure this forever.” I felt tears rising in my chest. “Um . . .” I paused. “Is it all right if I go up to Elliot’s room now? I’d just like to sit there for a while to—you know, reflect and stuff.”

Anne and Neil looked at each other, then nodded in unison.

I followed Anne up the stairs and into Elliot’s room, surrounded by a haze of bittersweet memories. There were so many little reminders of him everywhere. His Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. His Thomas the Tank Engine train set. Polaroid snapshots of us in happier days. On the far wall beside the window was one of his many helicopter paintings. Elliot had liked drawing helicopters and his artwork showed surprising maturity for his age. Had things turned out differently, I was certain he’d have grown up to be a great artist.

A lump formed in my throat.

I thought of all the times Elliot had stuck up for me at school, all the times he’d picked me up when I was down, all the jokes he’d told that made me laugh. And then, of course, there was his ultimate sacrifice: he had saved my life. For a seven-year-old kid, he had been pretty damned special.

Anne sat on the bed and gazed vacantly round the room. For a long while, she remained motionless, her eyes narrow and unreadable. Then her face lit up, as if she’d just remembered something pleasant. “In the beginning, I used to sleep up here every night. I’d hold onto that teddy bear of his, thinking about how beautiful he was as a baby. How soft his skin was . . .” She frowned and shook her head. “That was the only way I could feel close to him. Sleeping in his bed.”

I nodded in sympathy. I knew exactly what she meant. Just being up here made me feel like Elliot was with us—in spirit, at least.

After a few moments, Anne left me alone. I went over to the bed and hugged the pillow. It felt soft and fluffy in my arms. “I’m so sorry, Elliot. Please forgive me,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

The truth was, deep down, I blamed myself for what had happened that night. If only I hadn’t been so pig-headed and greedy. If I hadn’t insisted on disobeying our parents, Elliot might still be alive. He’d be all grown up and going to college, making Anne and Neil happy, and all would have been right with the world.

I lost track of time, and I was startled back to reality when Neil poked his head through the door and asked, “Would you like to spend the night, Sam?”

Through my tears, I looked up, but I was unable to speak. He walked over and touched my shoulder gently.

“It’s getting late, and we don’t want you traveling alone at this time of night. We’ve got plenty of space. Why don’t I make up a bed for you in the guest room?”

“Thanks Neil, I … I think I’d like that.” I wiped away a tear.

He ruffled my hair affectionately. “Come on, poppet, let’s turn off the lights and go downstairs. We can watch a movie or something to lighten the mood.”

Gratefully, I followed Neil to the door as he snapped off the light, plunging the room into darkness.

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