Three Mile Drove, Chapter Sixteen

Three Mile Drove
Chapter Sixteen

A brisk rap on his room door the following morning snapped Darren out of his morose ruminations over his future in Three Mile Drove. But it wasn’t to last.
He drew back the latch to be confronted with the tall, slim figure of Sergeant McPherson, as a consequence his mind immediately flashing back to the unpleasant spectacle of the previous evening.
‘I’m sorry – I didn’t realise I was stepping on your toes,’ Darren snapped, unable to keep the acidity from his voice, ‘if that’s why you’re here.’
McPherson frowned, his face finally flickering into a brief smile, ‘Oh I see, mind if I come in?’ and then as Darren stepped unwillingly back to allow him passage, ‘I’ve no romantic interest in Claire Darren, if that’s how you see it.’ McPherson’s eyes caught the “no smoking” plaque on the wall and he scowled. The number of non-smoking establishments seemed to be growing by the day.
Darren’s face might have been struck by a lightning bolt. ‘Eh?’ He fumbled in his pocket, a hand clutched around his lighter. He felt like a child in need of a dummy.
‘Then what were you doing there close on midnight? I hardly see her as a subject of investigation.’
‘Yeah, that’s where you’re wrong. Mind if I take a seat?’
Darren simply gestured to the single easy chair. His head ached and his stomach churned. He felt like he’d spent a whole day on a roller coaster. ‘What’s it all about?’
McPherson sat in the chair. Darren positioned himself on the bed opposite while the detective explained about the house deeds. As McPherson went into his account, Darren began to see the situation for what it was. He didn’t need to be told about Claire’s association with the house, he knew that much. It intrigued and disturbed him, but he was concentrating on something else. Because as McPherson’s voice seemed to fade into the distance, like a matinee curtain going up before his eyes Darren’s mind was replaying events of the previous evening with all the ruthless efficiency of a video recorder.
And when it came to the part where he’d seen McPherson waiting for her on the porch that would be the point where he’d want to switch off. To stop right there.
But of course he couldn’t do that, just as surely as he couldn’t erase the certainty of what had followed. The plain fact that he’d let rising emotions cross the border into territory where only jealousy prevailed. A make believe world where distortion was the joker and envy was king. He’d pre-judged the situation and totally blown any chance he had with her, sky high. These were failings he’d often attributed to others but never envisaged in himself. Now he knew differently, and more importantly, so did Claire.
He knew he’d let his resentment show, he’d meant to. A spur of the moment thing, yes, but intentional all the same.
‘And so I need you to act for me Darren, as a pair of eyes – Darren, are you listening?’
‘Eh?’ Darren blinked. He’d been staring into the policeman’s face for the past few minutes and yet he hadn’t seen it at all.
He tried to snap his beleaguered brain into gear, ‘I think you just said you needed me to act.’
‘Yes I do,’ McPherson’s voice sounded tired, ‘if you’ll just return to this planet for a while, I’m asking you to do something for me.’
‘Go on,’ Darren summoned all his powers of concentration…

* *

If only her uncle’s molestation had been the one blight on her tender years, if only; but if her experience that day had damaged the fragile foundations on which her tender years had been built, what was to follow later that evening swept them away.
Through the scar ravaged corridors of time they came back to haunt her, corridors within corridors, dividing and duplicating, so there seemed to be thousands upon thousands, and as they grew they filled with maggots until all the passageways were full. Only then did the struggle for sanity begin taking place, within the besieged cells of her brain, amidst a fitful sleep.
She was strong. But victory for the conscious over the sub-conscious only deepened the division in her soul. One day she might not wake to sanity.
Out there in the fens, in an isolated wilderness where townsfolk thought nothing ever happened, save for the whine of a tractor, or the whirr of a harvester, or the sight of a country bumpkin farmhand stuffing down the remainder of his lunch while staring blandly into space. A docile tranquillity lay over the land, drop dead boring, inhabited by those with sub-zero mentality, but tranquil nevertheless.
That was what they thought. But the only thing townsfolk got right was the sub-zero mentality. Deformed, demented beings, manifest themselves amidst her mind’s madness, the madness that came when she slept, whenever something or someone summoned it back.
Bones like wretched offshoots from withered willows; mouths that only slobbered and shrilled, that spat and howled within shapeless heads. Figures that crouched and crept in the stench filled hovel that leant fury at their wretchedness not only to the night, but to the occasional unfortunate thrown into their hideous paths.
And to become part of this monstrosity of nature, to be held within its constricting clutches, to break free only to find that you hadn’t really done so, that you were a captive of your own personal trauma. For what is the mind of a child if not one of imagination. Nobody would believe you, except perhaps a parent. And then what would happen, if to your horror you found they weren’t on your side of the fence?
Where would you go? What would be left to inherit your mind but the wretched?
And it had. For a long time it had. But she didn’t want it back, not at any cost, though it seemed she was losing the battle.
McPherson had spoken about a child; she hadn’t wanted to know. Her conscious thought naturally fought against anything to do with it. But slowly, tortuously, she found her mind snaking back through the years.
She remembered the “normal” one.

*

Maybe it had been the hard mattress that had caused a recurrence of his back condition, an old legacy dating back to a motorcycle accident which had occurred in his late teens and came back to haunt him from time to time, letting him know that it would never be gone for good. Such a time was now, as placing the thumbs of his outstretched hands against his spine he stretched, feeling his back creak as though his bones were the rusty joints of an ageing door. He’d listened to what McPherson had to say, feeling a fool for his jealousy but nonetheless intrigued by the policeman’s change of direction in asking him to report any unusual happenings in Three Mile Drove. In a way, the curiosity he felt himself, provided some compensation for the early termination of what might have been a meaningful relationship. Might have been, but not any more, and what was there left other than to play out his own fascination with the strange eeriness that lay out on the fens, in stark contrast with the flat, boring nature of the place. He’d always had excitement in his life, romance of a kind too, yes. Odd really, but the back of beyond, the land that looked as though it might once have been squashed flat by a giant meteorite, might just provide that for him.
Right now though, his immediate problem was his back, the trouble had crept up on him the way it often did, he’d been totally immersed in his emotional problems and now that the mists that had obscured his senses began slowly to evaporate he realised that it hurt, it hurt a lot. He needed some strong lotion, or at the very least one of those bags that you placed in a microwave and then pressed to your back so that the warmth gave some sort of relief. It might make him feel like an old woman but who cared about that? He was past the age where he felt any embarrassment about that sort of thing.
He decided upon Ely, it was the closest place where he could be sure of getting what he needed, the local village store surely wouldn’t provide such things, and so grabbing his coat from the hook on the door he made his way out. He noticed the white clouds rushing across the wide expanse of heavens, pushed along by a freshening wind. Despite its gathering strength there was a mild feel to the day. He’d heard on the radio that fierce storms were predicted to cross the region from the west later in the day and he guessed the increasing amount of upper cloud was a forerunner to it.
He drove into Ely and parked in a vacant space close to the high street, walking through a narrow alleyway fronted on both sides by shops selling every variety of knickknacks he could think of, except of course, what he was after. He crossed out onto the high street to join the throng of Saturday morning shoppers. Winding his way through the crowds with increasing irritability he saw a chemist sign up ahead. Darren found he got ratty pretty quickly in such situations. There was something missing in the Saturday shopper, namely a sense of direction. To him, the aimless amble through crowded streets was something to be avoided at all costs, undertaken only as a necessity, he couldn’t understand the mentality of some of these people who seemed to thrive on it. He suddenly stumbled into the backs of a couple who for some reason came to an abrupt halt as though they were robots who’d blown a circuit. Offering a frustrated apology and not really knowing why, he made a sharp diversion, only to walk straight into the path of an attractive woman, his mouth dropping open when he saw who it was.
‘Claire…’
‘Hello Darren.’
For a moment they stared at each other as the crowds of shoppers brushed past them, he noticed the look on her face, it was cool to say the least. What else could he expect?
‘Just heading for the chemist,’ he said awkwardly. ‘An old back strain.’
‘Old age creeping up is it?’ She gave a slight smile which surprised him, ‘I’ve just been in for some supplies myself actually. It’s the only chance I get to do it.’
‘Yeah, I bet.’ He noticed the dark shades around her eyes, skin he’d normally seen so clear seemed unusually blotchy this morning, he wondered what might have caused it.
‘Listen, I wonder if we might talk, I need to say something.’
She raised her brows, ‘About what?’
‘Look, not here,’ he said with an urgency in his voice, ‘can we have a drink or something? I need to get out of this crowd.’
‘I thought you needed the chemist,’ she said dryly, ‘and I don’t have much time.’
‘The chemist can wait for a few minutes,’ he said, glaring as a shopper nudged his arm.
‘There’s a café opposite the cathedral,’ she glanced at her watch and he found himself wondering what she had planned for the rest of her day. ‘I suppose I can spare a few minutes.’ Claire lead the way up the hill, she was wearing a black leather coat he hadn’t seen before, but it was a perfect match for her dusky looks and dark hair. He fought back a wave of desire that could have no outlet. What was the point, he’d make the most of his unexpected opportunity to make amends for his behaviour, but he didn’t expect anything to come of it.
He bought two coffees and found a corner table; he took a sip from the cup and watched as she drunk hers.
‘So?’ she asked with raised eyebrows.
‘So I just wanted to say I was sorry for the childish way I reacted last night,’ he placed his cup on the saucer and leaned forward. ‘It was a childish attitude from a grown man who should no better. I misinterpreted the situation…’
‘Did you indeed,’ she interrupted, placing her elbows on the table and cupping her hands beneath her chin, ‘and how do you know that?’
Darren sighed, looking at her sheepishly, ‘McPherson came to see me this morning; he said there was nothing between the pair of you.’
‘Nice to know you were discussing me,’ he saw the sudden hardening in her eyes, the indignation there, the transformation from beautiful woman to one tough cookie shook him, he was making a good job of worsening the situation.
‘No, it wasn’t like that, please don’t think that,’ he hastened, fidgeting with his lighter, ‘he came to see me about Three Mile Drove.’
‘What?’
‘Three Mile Drove,’ he repeated, almost recoiling before the severity of her gaze.
‘I heard what you said. Why?’ she demanded.
‘McPherson’s convinced that there’s a link between the derelict house and the missing kid. That something there or beyond the house holds the key. The problem is that because of financial constraints his hands are tied. Apparently the police bosses won’t allow more manpower and they might even close their files. In short they think he’s wasting his time, so he’s asked me to report anything suspicious,’ he drew breath, watching all the while those remarkable eyes intensify, ‘I thought I might shop around a little, see what I can come up with that might help. Tonight, perhaps.’
‘Don’t even think about doing that!’ It wasn’t her words that alarmed him but the force of her sudden grip on his wrist. She relented almost at once, but her face was flushed and she looked even more bothered. She got up to leave, ‘Just take my advice, don’t involve yourself in things that don’t concern you. I don’t know what Tim could be thinking of.’
‘Claire wait…’
But she’d strode from the café, leaving half her coffee, and brushing aside a youth who’d blocked her path. He wanted to follow her up the street but knew it was pointless to do that.
He slammed his cup into the saucer with a force that threatened to crack it, drawing attention from the serving staff. What was it that caused such sudden vehemence from her; it wasn’t down to her dissatisfaction with his attitude last night, he could see that. No, the very mention of Three Mile Drove had stirred it. He knew she’d lived there, and now he was more than ever certain he was holding something back. Why, or what, he didn’t know, but he was sure she wasn’t involved in the abduction of the missing girl, it was a gut feeling but he saw it as plain fact. So, despite her warning, and his ever-growing feelings for her he felt more than ever resigned to find out what was really happening out there.
He thought he saw the eyes of the clientele follow him as he left the café, but he was only dimly aware of it. What was on his mind now was rapidly becoming something of a mission, perhaps an obsession, because in the process of getting to grips with this he might in some way be helping her, even though it didn’t seem that way at the moment. It was just a gut feeling.
Outside the skies had turned angrier, dark brown clouds now chased white across the sky like the bad guy chasing the good. The wind had risen further, so that he had to stiffen his body against it as he made his way down the hill towards his car. There was a storm brewing, and quickly too.