The Clearing

  THE

  CLEARING

  Shalini Boland

  ~

  Copyright © Shalini Boland 2013

  ~

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ~

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior permission of the author.

  ~

  http://www.shaliniboland.co.uk

  For Neil, Mani and the boys

  with love x

  Preface

  *

  They’re coming for me. I won’t be able to outrun them. Better if I stop now and let them take me. But something urges me on. The black night presses down and I can hardly see. My lungs burn in my chest and my breath comes in shallow gasps.

  I shiver and sweat in my thin cotton dress. It billows out around me as I run, the grass damp and cold under my bare feet. The whispering in my ears grows louder until it becomes a soft humming chant. Then I realise I’m muttering and singing to myself - a fear-induced mumbling that I can't seem to stop. My eyes water in the cold night air, mixing with tears of terror which dry in tight tracks along my cheeks.

  I shouldn’t do it, but I turn to look and make out their faint outlines behind me. The shape of them fills my mind with a deeper panic that’s almost paralysing. But I will myself on and soon I reach the tree line where low branches claw out, desperate to trip me. Somehow I stay upright, keep going, evade their mossy grip.

  My pursuers are gaining on me from all sides. Their quiet, effortless chase deafens me with its silence. They accept the inevitability of my capture, just as I know that I will not escape.

  The forest grows more dense and tangled until I stumble onto a narrow track. Time is running out. There is a strangled gurgling of running water to my left. The stream is widening, the ground becoming boggy with sucking mud. Within seconds, too soon, I find myself in a large grassy clearing. A small herd of wild ponies are startled awake by my sudden arrival. They snort, whinny and trot away into the forest. Retreating.

  Take me with you, I silently plead. But they disappear and the clearing lies empty, except for me. A cloud moves to reveal a quarter moon. The stream bubbles its toil and trouble and the branches creak and moan.

  They are coming. . .

  They are here.

  I have let myself be herded like a helpless lamb. Somehow I know this is where they wanted me to be captured.

  From out of the trees, the dark hooded figures silently glide toward me; not running, but taking their time. I’m rooted to the spot, surrounded. I gaze up at the racing clouds as they smother the briefly hopeful moon again. And everything goes black.

  Chapter One

  Riley

  *

  This was no trip to the seaside. No time to take in the scenery or smell the salt tang in the air. The blue sky and warm October sun meant nothing to any of us. We were here to trade. And trading was a serious business.

  Cutter’s Quay was a narrow strip of broken concrete by the ocean. Pa said it used to be a place for holiday makers, with brightly coloured beach huts and ice cream kiosks. But the beach huts were long gone, ripped down and burned for fuel. Now it was jammed with vehicles and makeshift stalls which seemed to stretch on forever. Traders bartered out of wooden rowing boats and trucks tied together with bits of string. There were crafters and farmers, dealers and pirates. You could get anything you wanted if you knew who to ask.

  If you had items to trade, this was the place to come, but you better be armed and you better hold your nerve or you’d come away empty handed. You might not come away at all.

  Today I was here with Pa, my Kalashnikov on full display, slung over my body. I loved this place even though it also terrified the living daylights out of me. It made me feel alive. The first few times I’d come, I’d stuck to Pa’s side like a barnacle on a boat. But now I felt confident enough to make trades of my own. And Pa trusted me enough to let me get on with it.

  Today, my task was to barter for salt and my usual supplier wasn’t here so I’d been directed to a man named Milton Hardy, a well-known local character who was doing quite well for himself.

  He worked out of the back of a horse-drawn wagon and had set up behind a group of fishermen. The stink of fish was overpowering and I held my breath as I sidled past.

  I knew Milton by sight, but had never dealt with him before. He leant against the back of his wagon, sucking down the dog-end of a roll-up.

  ‘Hi, are you Milton?’ I called out.

  He beckoned me over with a leer and tossed his roll-up onto the ground. I sighed and approached him, wary of walking into such an out-of-the-way spot. My hand shifted automatically to my weapon and I left it there, finger millimetres from the trigger.

  Milton wore a suit, frayed at the hems and shiny at the knees. His hair had been combed back into a greasy quiff and half his teeth were missing, which made me wish he would stop smiling.

  ‘Who are you then?’ he grinned. ‘Haven’t seen you round here before. Never forget a pretty face.’

  ‘I’m Riley,’ I replied. ‘I was told you trade salt.’

  ‘Among other things,’ he said. ‘Best human-grade rock salt in Britain,’ he said. ‘Best prices too.’ He undid the neck of a large blue polythene sack and scooped up a handful, holding it out for me to see.

  I took a step forward and pinched some of the crystals between my thumb and forefinger. I tentatively licked them.

  ‘Okay,’ I said. ‘How much of this have you got?’

  ‘As much as you need.’

  ‘I’ll take it all.’

  He laughed. ‘Might be a bit rich for you, sweetheart. You don’t know what I want for it yet.’

  I waited.

  ‘I’ve got thirty two bags of premium-grade salt. They’re going for five hundred silver bits each, but I can let you have the lot for fifteen thousand.’

  I turned and walked away.

  ‘Told you they was too rich for ya,’’ he called after me. I ignored him and carried on walking. ‘Hey! Come back,’ he cried. ‘We’ve only just got going. I can do you a good deal. Maybe you can have it for twelve.’

  I stopped and turned around. ‘I’ll give you a thousand.’

  ‘What? For thirty two bags? That’s less than I paid for it.’

  ‘We all know you didn’t pay a bean for it, Milton. So I’ll give you a thousand, take it or leave it.’

  The smile left his face. ‘Come back at the end of the day. If I haven’t sold it, you can have it for five thousand.’

  ‘I won’t be here at the end of the day,’ I said. ‘My offer’s a one-time deal. A thousand now or I find someone else to do business with.’

  Milton scowled. ‘Fine.’

  ‘Sorry? Is that a yes?’

  He nodded.

  I did a silent victory dance in my head and headed back towards him, drawing out my knife with my left hand. His smile vanished.

  ‘What you doing?’ he asked.

  ‘Checking the merchandise.’ I gave him my best smile as I stuck the knife into the bottom of the sack.

  Milton immediately went to reach inside his jacket, but with my right hand I jammed the nose of my machine gun into his gut, making him raise his hands skyward.

  ‘Hmm, funny,’ I said. ‘Why’s there no salt running out of the bottom of the bag, Milton?’

  I sliced into the sack some more and out dropped a chunk of wood shavings and a stream of dirty gravel.

  ‘Nice,’ I said, pocketing the knife. ‘Deal’s off.’

  ‘Can’t blame a man for trying,’ he said. ‘I got the good
stuff in the wagon.’

  I stepped back, still aiming the Kalashnikov at his skinny body.

  ‘Wait here,’ he said, his hands still raised. He turned and crawled under the tarp in the back of his wagon and dragged out another sack. This bag was clear and I could see the salt through the plastic. He sliced through the top and held it out for me to try.

  We finally did the deal and he rode his wagon over to Pa’s AV. He looked from the AV to me and back to the AV again.

  ‘You’re Johnny Culpepper’s daughter?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Oh. Sorry for all that stuff back there. I never would’ve tried to . . .’

  ‘What?’ I cut him off. ‘You never would’ve tried to rip me off if you knew I had a father who could squish you?’

  ‘Basically, yeah,’ he replied with a sheepish grin. I watched and counted as he loaded the sacks of salt into the boot.

  ‘Hello, Milton.’ Pa appeared round the side of the AV, carrying a couple of crates on his shoulder. ‘I see you’ve met my daughter.’

  ‘Yeah, chip off the old block, JC.’

  ‘Can we go now, Pa?’ I said. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Luc at one.’

  ‘Did you get my salt?’

  ‘Yeah. Milton here did me a good deal.’

  ‘Barely enough to feed my kids, Johnny.’

  ‘You haven’t got any kids, Milton.’

  Pa dumped his crates on the back seat and we climbed into the AV.

  ‘And?’ Pa said.

  ‘I got thirty two sacks for a thousand.’

  ‘Nice work,’ Pa said, starting up the engine. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’

  As Pa drove, I stared out the window at the scrubland scrolling past, butterflies building in my stomach. The adrenalin from this morning’s deal had faded and now I was facing an even more nerve-wracking situation: I was meeting Luc Donovan for a picnic lunch.

  Chapter Two

  Riley

  *

  Luc and I still hadn’t spoken properly since our ‘trip’. There’d been no talk of how we felt. We’d teased and chatted, but it all felt superficial. We never seemed to have enough time together. No time to talk about anything meaningful. So today was a big deal. At least it was for me.

  What if Luc had completely changed his mind about us? Maybe everything that had happened last month had been a heat-of-the-moment thing. The thought made me sick. I wanted to get to Coy Pond before he did. To make the most of the short hour before he had to go back to work. I looked at the speedo; Pa was cruising at 20mph. I sighed.

  Half an hour later, I ran down the steps and onto the path which ran alongside the gushing stream. A couple of moorhens swam over so I reached into my drawstring bag and tore off a crust of bread, breaking it into crumbs and scattering them across the water. More ducks appeared and I left them to their soggy treasure hunt.

  Luc hadn’t arrived yet so I hoisted myself up onto the warm stone wall, dumping the bag next to me. As I waited, I tilted my face up to the sun and closed my eyes. Unwelcome memories came back to me. Snapshots of the summer. The summer that would remain in sharp focus for the rest of my life. The summer when my little sister was murdered; when Luc and I had risked our lives to track down her killer; who turned out to be not the killer at all, but my real father.

  ‘Hey, Riley. Having a little nap?’

  His voice made me jump and I snapped open my eyes to see him smiling in front of me. My stomach went into freefall and I put my hands on the wall to steady myself.

  ‘Hey, Luc. How’s it going?’

  He picked up my bag and peered inside. ‘Wow, you actually brought some food. I’m impressed.’

  I smiled. ‘Yeah. Well I could lie and said it was me, but Ma made it all.’ I slid off the wall, brushing the stone dust from the backs of my legs.

  ‘Thought it was too good to be true,’ he said. ‘Unlike your lazy highness, I actually made sandwiches and a flask this morning.’

  ‘Swot,’ I replied, and leant out of the way as he pretended to push me into the stream. ‘Hey!’

  ‘What!’ Luc said with a grin that made my pulse quicken.

  ‘You are such a . . . a . . .’ I couldn’t think of anything fitting enough.

  ‘a . . . a . . .’ he mocked. ‘I know, but that’s why you love me.’

  My heart lifted irrationally at his words, but I’m sure he didn’t mean them like that. I didn’t know what to think about us anymore. It was all so complicated, but all so simple at the same time.

  He hoicked my bag over his shoulder alongside his rucksack and tilted his head for me to follow him. ‘Shall we walk for a bit?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘How was this morning at Cutter’s?’ he asked.

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘We got what we went for. I like it down there.’

  I stopped walking as we had come to a part of the track which had cracked and flooded.

  Luc pushed back the bushes at the edge of the path. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Grab my hand.’

  His skin felt warm. He gripped me tight as I skirted the puddle and jumped across the last bit. I wished I could keep hold of his hand, but I let it go. My fingers tingled.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘How bout you? Was work okay?’

  ‘What? Yeah. Nothing too exciting. Couple of thefts over at Southampton and an interview for a new guard.’

  We walked in silence for a while, the ducks on the stream keeping up with our progress.

  ‘Riley . . .’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘We’re nearly at the wall. Shall we turn round?’

  I glanced up to see the towering red brick wall ahead and, beyond it, the familiar mesh of the fence encircling us, keeping us safe. I briefly wondered if anyone was passing by outside, imagining what it was like in here. This part of the Perimeter was the most heavily fortified. Only a mile from here lay the Upper Gardens, one of the most dangerous parts of Bournemouth.

  We turned and headed back in the opposite direction. With limited places to walk inside, we always found ourselves coming up against the fence. I thought back to our time outside the Perimeter where we could walk or drive for miles without boundaries. With nothing to hold us back but our fear of the unknown.

  After walking for a few minutes in the opposite direction, I pointed to a spot by the stream. We spread the rug out under the low boughs of a weeping willow. This was my favourite tree. The one my sister and I always used to climb as it had such twisty branches, the low ones dipping their woody elbows into the stream. Skye used to swing upside down by her hands and feet from the larger branches, making monkey noises. She always ended up making me laugh till the tears streamed down my face.

  I couldn’t believe she was gone. Sometimes the realisation hit me with such force it made me dizzy. I wished I could find her killer, I still wanted to avenge her death, but I had nothing to go on. No clues, no murder weapon, no motive. Nothing. Maybe I never would find out who did it.

  ‘This is great,’ Luc said, as we sat on the rug. ‘It’s so peaceful here.’ He stretched out his legs and gave a sigh.

  The butterflies in my stomach were going insane. We were here, alone together but all we could talk about was the mundane. Half-formed sentences flew around my brain but I couldn’t utter the words I needed to tell him how I felt. To ask him if he still felt the same about me. I was too scared of the answer.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His fringe had grown longer and it suited him. Made him seem more vulnerable.

  I nodded. ‘Got anything to eat?’

  ‘Nah, sorry.’

  I rolled my eyes and reached across to grab our bags which were stuffed with food.

  We relaxed and began tucking into our lunch of fruit, cheese sandwiches and homemade cakes. We were lucky to have out-of-season fruit. Pa always made sure he got us the best of everything.

  ‘I can’t eat another thing,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t have had that last cake.’

  Luc held a str
awberry in front of my mouth.

  I shook my head.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘No,’ I groaned. ‘Too full up.’

  ‘Last chance,’ he said dancing the bright red berry in front of my face.

  I shook my head again, so he dropped it back into the bag.

  Our lunch break was nearly over and although it had been great spending time together, we still hadn’t spoken about anything meaningful. We had lost that closeness we had back when we were on the road. I sighed and shivered. The sun had slipped behind a thick bank of cloud. The blue sky was already dissolving.

  ‘You’re shivering,’ Luc said.

  ‘I’m okay.’

  ‘It’s the north wind,’ Luc said. ‘Coffee will warm you up. Come here.’ He patted the empty space next to him and I scooched around, my heart pounding as he rubbed his hand up and down my arm. ‘God, Riley, you’re freezing.’

  I gave a nervous laugh. ‘Got that coffee?’

  He took his hand away from my arm and pulled a metal flask out of his rucksack. I could have cursed myself for opening my big mouth.

  ‘Here.’ He handed me the metal lid of steaming liquid and I blew across the top of it. I looked up and caught his eye but I wasn’t brave enough to hold his gaze.

  If only he would lean down and kiss me. Obliterate all my doubts.

  ‘I can’t stay,’ he said. ‘I have to get back in a minute. Work.’

  ‘Oh. Okay,’ I said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

  The time had gone too quickly and now disappointment threatened to overwhelm me. But maybe it was a good thing we couldn’t spend longer together. Maybe it would have all been too awkward. I knew I should forget about Luc and me. I didn’t have the strength or the energy to have my heart broken on top of everything else.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he asked. ‘You seem a bit . . .’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I shook away the longing and flashed him a smile.

  ‘Riley . . .’ he said.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I need to . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can I talk to you about something?’