Wishing on a Star Page 5

  ‘That’s right. Ten years ago today, these two, along with one of the security guards, robbed the store after it closed on Christmas Eve, when they knew the safe would be full. Unfortunately, the guard, Arnie Sykes, had a heart attack, collapsed, and died.’

  ‘What happened to the other man? The other guard, I mean. Did they hurt him?’

  The stranger smiled, as if pleased by her concern. ‘No, he wasn’t hurt, not in the physical sense. But he was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, because the jury believed the prosecution claims that he was the inside man who had let the others in. His name was Butler, Danny Butler.’

  ‘But that’s not fair, if he was innocent. Why didn’t these two go to jail?’

  ‘You’ll soon discover that life isn’t fair, Lauren. They didn’t go to prison because there was insufficient evidence to convict them, even though the police were sure they were the ones involved. Just to make sure there’s no misunderstanding, let them tell you.’

  He turned back and stood in front of Terry. When he spoke, his voice had returned to the whiplash command. ‘Terry, tell Lauren who did the Towlers robbery ten years ago. Tell her now.’

  ‘It was me, Lauren. Me, Wayne, and Arnie Sykes.’

  ‘What about Danny Butler?’ Lauren asked.

  The stranger smiled approvingly at her.

  ‘Nah!’ Terry’s tone was dismissive, as if Butler was unimportant. ‘Butler had nothing to do with it. Didn’t stop the judge sending him down, though. Me and Wayne pissed ourselves laughing. I still chuckle when I think of him doing a long stretch when he had no part of it.’

  The visitor looked at Lauren. ‘I told you they weren’t very nice men.’

  ‘You didn’t need to,’ Lauren replied. ‘I already knew. I just didn’t realise how bad.’

  This time the visitor’s smile was one of infinite sadness. ‘Unfortunately, you haven’t heard the worst of it, yet. Prepare yourself, what you’re about to hear will make your blood curdle. Are you ready?’

  Lauren nodded.

  His attention returned to the men, who were both staring at him fixedly, their eyes never wavering. It was almost as if he was holding them captive, even though their only restraints were his voice, and those strange, pale eyes.

  ‘OK, Wayne, it’s your turn now. I want you to tell Lauren about last Christmas Eve. Let’s start with the message you got. That was what kicked everything off, wasn’t it?’

  ‘It was a couple of weeks before Christmas; I was in the Red Lion. The Lion is always busy on Fridays, but it was totally packed when I walked in. There was a real shindig going on and it looked as if some of the drinkers had been there ages. Then someone told me why. Jack Wood had been released from Felling that day. He’d been serving a five for GBH. I hadn’t been there long when Jack came over to talk to me.’

  Wayne paused and licked his lips nervously before going on to the next bit. Instantly, the stranger extended his right arm again in that curious gesture that seemed to command total obedience.

  Wayne continued. ‘All right, Jack? Good to see you out and about again.’

  There was silence for a second or two, then, ‘How do you mean, you’ve got a message for me? Is that what you said? It’s hard to hear with all this racket going on.’ Wayne looked round and raised his voice. ‘Quiet, you lot, I’m trying to talk to Jack.’

  His tone lowered as he said, ‘Go on. You’ve got a message. What message? Who from?’ He grinned. ‘I know a few in Felling.’

  Wayne listened to a voice only he could hear before continuing, ‘Who said that? Butler? Who’s Butler? Oh, you mean Danny Butler. How the hell did he find out about us? Anyway, thanks for the tip-off.’

  Wayne stood up and made a curious gesture with his arms, which Lauren guessed was him simulating walking. He stopped, lifted his left hand, and started jabbing at the palm with the index finger of his other hand. It took Lauren a few seconds before she realized that Wayne was dialling a number on his mobile – except for the fact that he wasn’t holding a phone. He raised his hand to his ear, obviously listening. After a few seconds, he spoke. ‘Tel, it’s Wayne. Yeah, I’m outside the Lion. I couldn’t hear myself think in there, let alone talk to anyone. Listen, will you? This is important. I’ve just been talking to Jack Wood. Yeah, he got out this morning, that’s why they’re having a do for him. Anyway, that’s not the point. Jack came over to give me a message. Well, it’s for both of us really. It’s a warning. Someone in Felling is after our blood, big style. No, no it isn’t any of the drugs lot. They’re all behaving themselves. The threat came from Danny Butler. Remember Butler, do you? Yes, that Danny Butler. Seems someone’s blabbed to him that we were the two behind the masks when Towlers got done over. How the hell do I know who told him? But I know this, if I find the bastard I’ll skin him alive.’

  Wayne listened for a moment or two. ‘Yes, I know there’s bugger all he can do from in there, but he won’t be inside for ever, will he? Fifteen, it was, but he’s done eight already, and if he gets time off, he’ll be back here before long.’

  After another short silence, Wayne said, ‘I think we should have a meet, sooner the better, and decide what we’re going to do about him. OK, where and when? Yes, tomorrow.’

  He lowered his hand, and began his curious arm motion again. Lauren found it odd to watch a man simulating walking while standing absolutely still. However, she had little time to dwell on this, as Wayne was already speaking. ‘Hiya, Tel, what can I get you? OK.’ He turned to an invisible barman. ‘Two pints of Export.’ He held his hand out and apparently waited for some change, before passing a non-existent pint of lager to an invisible Terry, then gesturing to the corner of a room only he could see. ‘Let’s sit over there in the window, that way nosy bastards can’t overhear us.’

  Wayne sat next to Terry, and shuffled slightly on the sofa, obviously making himself comfortable in the window of the bar. ‘According to what Jack told me, Butler’s sworn we’ll be dead meat the minute he gets out. I asked around this morning, and folk say you don’t want to mess with him. He’s got an evil reputation. He was a bouncer at Macy’s Club before he worked at Towlers, and one or two got done over by him. I don’t fancy tangling with the likes of him, so I thought we should send him a warning message. Something on the lines of, “this is what you can expect if you come near us”. What do you reckon?’

  Lauren was becoming accustomed to the short silences, the breaks in conversation. It was a little like hearing one end of a phone call, she thought. Her attention wandered momentarily, but returned in no uncertain manner when she took in the gist of Wayne’s next remark.

  ‘Yeah, I do have an idea. The best way to get at Butler would be through his wife and kids. If they feel threatened, they’ll go running to Butler and that should stop his gallop. What’s even better is they live near you on the estate, only a couple of streets away.’

  Lauren gasped aloud. From the moment she had heard the name Butler it had sounded familiar. Now she knew why. She dragged her gaze from Wayne and stared at the stranger, an expression of mounting horror on her face. The incident from last year was still fresh in her memory, and the implication behind what Wayne had said was only too clear. The visitor returned her gaze, nodding in silent confirmation that her worst fears were about to be realised. He gestured to her to continue watching, and as she shifted her gaze to Wayne, he got to his feet and she saw him going through another mimed action.

  He was silent now, doing something she couldn’t work out for a moment. Then, as if to underline the suspicion she still hoped was wrong, she recognized what he was doing, and his words added extra confirmation – extra horror – extra revulsion. He was unscrewing the cap from a petrol can, then pouring the contents, slowly.

  His voice was a mere whisper. Even from less than three yards away Lauren had to strain to catch what he was saying, all the time wishing she did not have to, but somehow the stranger’s commands overrode her own abhorrence. ‘OK, Tel, light that piece of paper and sho
ve it through the letterbox. As soon as it gets going, we scarper. By the time anyone notices, we’ll be safe and snug back in the Lion with plenty of witnesses to swear we hadn’t moved from there all night. Go for it, Tel. Ready? Bloody Hell, that went up fast. Move it, Tel!’

  Instead of returning Wayne to his catatonic state, the stranger looked at Terry. ‘Just so that we’ve got this clear: you were with Wayne last Christmas Eve and the two of you set the fire that killed Sandra Butler and her children. Right?’

  ‘Yeah, we did that.’ Terry’s voice was a dull monotone, with no inflexion or emotion whatsoever.

  ‘And you also did the Towlers robbery?’

  ‘Yeah, we did that as well.’

  The visitor had turned to Wayne. ‘You agree with that?’

  ‘Yeah, we did ’em both.’ Wayne’s voice was equally toneless.

  ‘There’s something else though, isn’t there? Something you’ve failed to mention. You agreed to tell everything, you should have realised by now that holding back will not be tolerated. So, will one of you explain about the allotment?’

  Lauren thought that nothing could surprise her after what she had heard, but the mention of an allotment had her completely baffled.

  ‘Sorry,’ they mumbled.

  Wayne began to explain. ‘It was Tel’s idea. We knew the cops would be looking for the money after we’d done the Towlers job, so we decided we’d turn some of the cash into gear. Not to use, although we did a bit. To sell, and we needed somewhere to hide the stash. We were lucky, because we got an allotment almost as soon as we put our name down. Actually, it wasn’t our name at all. We used good old John Smith.

  ‘And we put the drugs and cash in a hiding place inside the shed we’ve stocked up when we need to,’ Terry took over the story. ‘Wayne does a bit of gardening up there, grows a few veg, so he’s always on hand when we have stuff to deal.’

  He stopped speaking, and looked at the stranger, who stared back in silence. Although no words passed between them, Terry gave an apologetic shrug. ‘OK,’ he said after a couple of seconds, ‘the allotment is number six. It’s the last one on the left as you go in from the Barwell Gardens end.’

  Having heard them out, the visitor extended both arms, one pointing at each of them, his fingers spread in that curious gesture. They fell silent, staring ahead into vacant space. He watched them for a moment, before turning to look at the girl.

  ‘Have you heard enough?’

  She gulped a deep breath to control the nausea she felt. ‘More than enough,’ she told him. ‘I feel sick.’ Her voice was little more than a croak.

  ‘That’s understandable. The point is, will you be able to remember everything they said well enough to repeat it when the time comes?’

  This time her voice was clearer, her message unmistakeable. ‘I don’t think I shall forget a word of what was said for as long as I live, no matter how much I want to.’

  The stranger smiled, a world of sadness reflected in his eyes as he told her, ‘Believe me, Lauren, the memory will fade, given time. Other things will overtake it, happier things that will thrust this to the back of your mind. Now, I think it’s time for you to leave.’

  ‘Leave?’ Lauren was startled by the suggestion. ‘Why should I leave?’

  ‘Oh yes, I can assure you there is no way you want to stay here. Not now, and not with what’s about to happen.’

  ‘Will they be punished for what they did?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ – the stranger smiled – ‘and their punishment will last a long time. An eternity, you could say.’

  He shepherded her into the hallway. When they reached the front door, he told her, ‘Here’s what I want you to do. Go down to the end of the street and along the main road to where the bus from the town centre stops. By the time you arrive there, your mother will be waiting to cross the road. Your job is to stop her, and make sure neither of you come near this house until later.’

  ‘How much later?’

  He smiled again. ‘That will become clear.’ As he spoke he opened the door and peered out. The fog was, if anything, even thicker. ‘Hang on, you’ll need a coat. This fog chills you through to the bone.’ He took her coat from the pegs alongside the door and helped her put it on. ‘Thank you for acting as my witness, Lauren. I won’t see you again, but I wish you all the very best for the future. I hope you will have a long and happy life. You deserve it, for you have a good heart.’

  ‘I still don’t know your name.’

  This time, the stranger’s laugh was one of genuine amusement, although Lauren couldn’t think of anything remotely funny in what she’d said. ‘That’s true, you don’t,’ was all he replied. He pushed her gently out of the door, guiding her towards the path. ‘Oh, one final thing, will you please tell Luke I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused him over Christmas?’

  ‘Luke? Luke who?’

  ‘You’ll know when you meet him. Now go, or your mother will be there before you.’

  Lauren walked slowly down the path, her mind whirling with everything she had witnessed in the house. She was walking slowly enough to hear the door shut, to hear the tumblers click as the stranger turned the key in the lock. She heard the muted thud as he slid the bolts home and wondered why he chose to do that. She was no nearer finding an explanation when she reached the street corner, and headed along the main road, where yet another surprise awaited her.

  Quite why she should be surprised, given the astonishing things she had seen and heard over the past hour, Lauren wasn’t really sure. However, exactly as the visitor had predicted, when Lauren reached the street corner and peered through the fog, there was her mother on the opposite side of the road, waiting for a lone taxi to creep past before attempting the crossing.

  Lauren waved and called out. She saw her mother’s surprised expression, but waited for her to cross in safety. In answer to her mother’s worried enquiries, she reassured her. ‘Yes, Mum, I’m fine. No, there hasn’t been any trouble. At least, I don’t think so. The thing is, we can’t go home yet. I promised we wouldn’t. The man said we shouldn’t.’

  Her mother stopped in her tracks. ‘Man, what man? Has someone been pestering you?’ She was alarmed. ‘Is this man some friend of his?’

  ‘No, Mum, that’s not it at all.’

  ‘Then why can’t we go home?’

  The way her mother referred to Terry spoke volumes for the state of their relationship. Lauren had thought recently that it might be reaching breaking point. From Lauren’s point of view, that couldn’t come fast enough. And that was before the events of the afternoon. Lauren rejoiced silently, then remembered the stranger’s question – and her response.

  ‘If you had the choice, what would happen to these two?’

  ‘I wish they would disappear from out of my life and my Mum’s forever.’

  She shivered, an involuntary reaction, almost as if she knew what she had wished for might come true.

  ‘Lauren, we ought to go home now. It’s Christmas Eve and I’ve still got loads to do. I know this is probably the wrong time to say this, but I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and as soon as the holiday is over, I’m going to tell him to clear out. It’s my house; I’ve had enough of his sponging off me, and bringing his dodgy friends round. They’re a bad influence, and I can’t have them near you.’ She slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulder and held her. ‘OK?’ Lauren nodded her agreement. ‘So, come on, let’s get out of this lousy fog and into the warm.’ She started to walk in the direction of the street.

  ‘No, Mum.’ Lauren caught her by the arm. ‘That’s fine, about Terry, I mean. But we can’t go home yet. I promised the man we wouldn’t.’

  Her mother started at her intently. ‘There you go again, talking about this mystery man who issues orders preventing me from going into my own house. Who is he? Or is he some figment of your imagination? You haven’t been in the room when Terry and his friends have been smoking dodgy tobacco, have you?’

  The idea th
at her mum thought she might be high on pot made Lauren giggle. The sound was cut short by the strident tones of a siren. Somehow, although the emergency vehicle was a long distance away, Lauren knew where it was headed; knew instinctively that it was in some way connected to her, to her house, and to the stranger who was locked in there with those two loathsome creeps.

  With the wailing siren growing ever closer, Lauren persuaded her mother that they should wait. ‘I don’t know who the man is, but he knows everything about us. He knows all about the dreadful things Terry and Wayne did. He knew all about you having to go back to work, and how long you would be gone, and he even knew that when I got to this corner, you would be waiting to cross the road.’

  It was the statement about work that convinced Lauren’s mother. Convinced her, and made her shiver with fear. Lauren sensed her unease. ‘What’s wrong, Mum?’

  ‘I don’t know, but this is totally weird. You remember the text I got calling me back into work? I read it out to you. Well, that text described the problem quite accurately. I already had an idea what the solution would be and it was easily put right. The thing is, when I got there everyone was surprised to see me. They said they had been on the point of phoning me when I walked through the door. That was when I asked them who had sent the text. Everyone denied it, so I got my mobile out and the message had disappeared. I thought I must have deleted it, but now I’m not sure.’

  ‘I don’t think you did, Mum.’ Lauren explained about the texts that Wayne and Terry had said they received, which when they checked their mobiles, had also vanished.

  As mother and daughter stared at one another, perplexed and troubled by the strange occurrences, their ears were assailed by the deafening blast of a fire engine’s siren. The vehicle, followed closely by a second, swept round the corner and headed up their street. Their flashing beacons and headlights were on full beam, reflecting back from the white wall of fog ahead.

  They heard the sirens die away as the fire engines slowed to a halt beyond the range of their vision, making it impossible to judge where exactly the emergency was. The fog was thicker than ever, Lauren thought, and then, with a fresh thrill of fear, realized that it wasn’t fog, but smoke. At that moment a whisper of breeze, no more than a zephyr, ruffled her hair. The movement of the air, slight though it was, brought the smell of smoke to her nostrils. A momentary panic came over her. What if Terry or the stranger had set fire to the house …? She dismissed the idea as ludicrous, it was only then that she remembered the elusive aroma given off by the visitor as he passed close to her. It had been the scent of smoke.