To Catch a Butterfly Page 17

  “I don’t think so sonny.” The man’s face was right against his ear, “I’ve got a bit of bad news for you, you’re nicked.”

  “Fucking citizen’s arrest are you fucking joking, fucking yuppie!” Shaun felt a sharp pain as his arm was pushed even further up his back.

  “Yuppie? Did you hear that lads, he called me a fucking yuppie. Where have you been? Stuck in the nineteen eighties? No son, I’m not a yuppie, I’m a policeman, in fact I’m a Detective Inspector and you are very nicked. Very nicked indeed. Bit like my fucking briefcase.”

  Shaun Halliday had just met D.I Jones, who had brought his team out for a celebration drink after a guilty verdict on a drugs case they had spent the last seven months working on. Shaun Halliday had fucked up. Big time.

  CHAPTER SIXTY SIX

  Laura opened her eyes and focused on her mother’s face. “Hello darling.” Rose gently rubbed Laura’s arm “There’s someone here to see you.” Rose looked at Stevie, she was not entirely comfortable with her visiting Laura, but Laura would have wanted it. Rose always knew that Stevie would turn out bad; it was her fault that Laura was here. And Rose was not about to forget it.

  Laura blinked as Stevie moved around the side of the bed “Hey.” she said quietly, words escaping her, seeing Laura like this.

  Laura moved her arm and held out a hand which Stevie took, tearfully. “I’m so sorry Laura.”

  Laura squeezed her hand in silent acknowledgement, she knew from Stevie’s face how she was feeling.

  “They’ll catch him.” Stevie stood awkwardly, “And you’ll get well.” She tried to smile but Laura closed her eyes and Stevie held her hand until she fell asleep.

  “I’m sorry.” Stevie looked at Rose who was sat on the other side of Laura’s bed.

  “I hope you are.” Rose stared at Laura. “I expect Laura will forgive you though.”

  Tears filled Stevie’s eyes. “I never meant for anything like this to happen, I would never hurt Laura.” She swallowed and wiped her eyes.

  Rose never looked up. “You didn’t hurt her.”

  Stevie sniffed, momentarily grateful for Rose’s words.

  “Your actions did this.” Rose shifted in her seat.

  Stevie sat in silence. She had no answer for that. She left the hospital shortly after, accompanied by Adam who had come home as the police officer was finishing off Stevie’s statement. Adam drove her back to his house; Stevie sat talking to them all, her head swaying.

  “What are you going to do now?” Beth asked.

  “What do you mean?” Stevie stood up to leave.

  “About Marie, I mean are you going to be alright?” Beth stood up and put her hands on Stevie’s shoulders “You can stay here if you want, give yourself a chance to get things straight in your head, it’s a huge thing to deal with.”

  “I’ll be alright; I’m more worried about Laura.” Stevie bowed her head and Beth pulled her close.

  “If you change your mind, you know where we are.” Beth held her tightly.

  “Thanks.” Stevie hugged her back.

  “I’ll drop you home.” Adam got up.

  Ten minutes later they were sat parked outside Stevie’s house.

  “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” Adam asked, looking at the house.

  “Yeah, stop worrying, she’s probably pissed out of her head unconscious anyway.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, Adam resisting the temptation to drive away with Stevie in the car and take her home with him.

  “You’re going to go there aren’t you?” He finally spoke and Stevie knew exactly what he meant.

  “Yes, someday, I can’t go anywhere until Laura’s better; I hope they catch that fucker soon.” She felt anger inside her.

  “They will.” Adam replied. “Just promise me one thing.”

  Stevie turned in her seat to look at him “What’s that?”

  “You’re not going to try and find that Frank Samuels.”

  “You know me too well, don’t you?” Stevie put her hand on his knee.

  “You are aren’t you?” Adam put his hand over hers.

  “Of course I am, he’s got away with killing my family.”

  “But if the police haven’t caught him, how do you expect to, I mean where do you even start?”

  “The police will have given up years ago.” She paused, “Look, I don’t know where to start, who to ask, where to go, but I just know that I can’t sit here and just accept it, you know what I’m like Adam, I can’t leave it.” She looked at him, studied his face. He had sad eyes, his short blond hair cut neatly around his neck. His hands, soft and tender against her skin. “It’s weird, I always thought of you as like a brother to me, when we were growing up, and the truth was I did have a brother. Weird isn’t it?” She sighed, looking straight ahead of her.

  “Yeah, it is.” Adam looked at her, she was so beautiful, even like this, her eyes dull with fatigue, her hair lacking its usual shine. But she was still so beautiful and he knew then that he couldn’t tell her, couldn’t tell her that he loved her and ached to hold her, that he wanted to wrap her up and never let her go, never let anyone hurt her.

  “I know it probably sounds mad, but I have to try and find him, it’s just the way I am.” She sighed, “You’ve accepted your past, you accept that Beth and Peter are your parents now and you don’t mind not knowing about your life before they adopted you.” She looked at him.

  “I did ask them.” He nodded.

  “You did? And?” She shifted around to face him.

  Adam placed his hands on the steering wheel and took a deep breath, “My mother was a heroin addict, we don’t know who my father was. I was found by a neighbour who heard me crying, she looked through the letter box and saw me lying on the floor next to my mother who’d died of an overdose.” He looked down. “Hence the scar on my lip, I must have fallen or something, they don’t really know.”

  Stevie frowned, “Jesus.” She said under her breath. She took his hand and rubbed it gently. “Is that what was in the newspaper?”

  “Yeah.” He looked at her. “See, I’m famous too.” He smiled.

  Stevie smiled back.

  CHAPTER SIXTY SEVEN

  The next few months passed quickly, Stevie’s eighteenth birthday came and went without fuss. She had spoken briefly to the rest of the family and they had agreed that when she was ready they would tell her all they knew about the accident and the investigation that followed. Stevie had decided not to mention her plans to any of them, not yet. As much as she was eager to find out everything before drawing up her plans, she knew she had to concentrate on Laura’s recovery. On the outside she had recovered well, on the inside everything was not so good. Laura’s ‘little turns’ which her mother now referred to as ‘fits’ had returned. After her release from hospital, she had had to return regularly for tests aimed at determining the cause of the fits that rendered her unconscious. They had initially occurred every couple of days and the medical minds had concluded that she was suffering from a form of epilepsy. As time passed they became less severe and less frequent.

  Laura had watched from the public gallery as Shaun Halliday was escorted from the dock sobbing like a little girl, off to serve four years at Her Majesty’s and most of the locals’ pleasure.

  Stevie and Laura saw little of each other after the court case. Shaun’s earlier guilty plea had at least saved Laura having to give evidence in court. But she and Stevie had already drifted apart long before the assault and it had failed to bring them closer together. Laura had assured Stevie that she held no resentment towards her, no blame; she had just been trying to protect her. Laura even thanked her for being there as a friend. Rose Fielding on the other hand had satisfied herself over the months that followed the assault that she had been bang on about Stevie Buchanan, and she held her totally responsible for Shaun Halliday’s actions and Laura’s subsequent problems. Bad apple that Stevie Buchanan.

  It had given Rose the green flag to envelope L
aura, keep her close, never letting her stray too far. Initially Laura had found the whole situation intolerable; her mother watching her every move, demanding that any friends Laura was spending time with came to her house, she would not be permitted to stay or spend time at theirs. But, as time went on, Laura was worn down, too tired to argue. Anyway, her mother did her washing, met her every evening from her lousy shit job at the dry cleaner’s, ironed her clothes and cooked her dinners, so Laura figured that until she found someone to whisk her away from her life, she would stay with her mother and no doubt drown in her protection.

  Stevie’s guilt at what had happened ate at her, she had tried to apologise to Rose, she had tried to explain that she was only trying to protect Laura from Shaun, from the road he would have led her down. Unbeknown to Stevie, Laura had already walked a few miles of that road with him.

  Stevie had never spoken to Laura about Marie not being her mother or the accident that had taken her family. Stevie was fully aware of Rose’s hostility towards her and didn’t want the story to be the latest gossip, a story for the neighbours and local families to dine out on. And Rose Fielding could gossip like the rest of them when she wanted to.

  CHAPTER SIXTY EIGHT

  Stevie had studied the newspaper articles tirelessly, and one Sunday afternoon, as previously agreed, the family gathered in Stevie’s front room to tell the story from the beginning. The truth about her family.

  Stevie’s mother Rachel Palmer had married her father Daniel Buchanan in May of 1976, she was 19 and he was 24. Stevie’s brother Jonathan was born ten months later and a year after that came Stevie. Daniel was a car mechanic, working endless hours to support his little family. He always dreamed one day that he would open up his own garage, have people working for him, build it up, have nice things for the house. The council estate they lived on housed a variety of characters, not all good, but it was a strong community and life was simple, if a little hard. Rachel was known for playing practical jokes on the rest of the family, often ringing them purporting to be from the gas board, demanding to know why a bill hadn’t been paid, or putting on a pretty convincing foreign accent, waffling on about a load of nonsense until the call was terminated and then ringing back five minutes later in fits of laughter. Rachel was a character alright.

  Daniel’s brother William often travelled over the water from the Isle of Wight, to Fourbridge in Hampshire where Stevie’s family lived. He would go armed with gifts for the children, a kiss for Rachel and a brotherly hug for Daniel. Marie never made the journey, the ferry ride made her seasick.

  Everything was good, life was good. And then on the 3rd March 1979, everything changed. Everything. And it would never be the same again.

  MARCH 3RD 1979

  “Say goodbye to Grandpa Stan.” Rachel put her hand on her son’s head.

  Jonathan ran over to his granddad and put his arms up; Grandpa Stan scooped him up and held him upside down, making aeroplane noises.

  “Bye love.” Cynthia kissed Rachel on the cheek “Give us three rings when you get home.” Cynthia always insisted on this with every visit, she would time the half an hour that it would take her son and his family to get home and if they hadn’t rung, she would call them, often leaving the phone ringing until they managed to get in the front door. “We’ve just got in mum!” Daniel would tell her.

  “Ok love, just making sure.”

  “Now, where’s that granddaughter of mine?” Grandpa Stan handed Jonathan to Daniel and leant down to kiss little Stevie, “My gorgeous girl.” He would call her. He would run his big hands across her head, soft baby hair and touch her pink cheeks, then gently push her nose “honk honk.”

  They finished their goodbyes and packed the car up. The day’s visit to Stan and Cynthia’s always meant they left with more than they came with. A blanket for Stevie, a new truck for Jonathan, a pie for Rachel to put in the oven “For about twenty five minutes on gas mark four will be fine.” Cynthia would explain, “I hope the crust isn’t too dry, have you got oxo cubes?”

  “Yes mum, we’ve got plenty.” Daniel would assure her, then steal a look at Rachel who would nod. Daniel didn’t have a clue if they had oxo cubes or not.

  The rain was coming down sideways as they left, “Don’t come out, it’s chucking it down, go on inside!” Daniel called back to his parents as they made a run for the car, by the time he’d got Jonathan and Stevie secured in the back, he was soaked.

  They waved goodbye and set off.

  An hour had passed and the phone in Rachel and Daniel’s house rang. And rang.

  “Stan, do you think we should go over there, they should be home by now, I’m getting really worried.” Cynthia had the telephone receiver tucked under her chin.

  “Give them a few more minutes love, the weather’s atrocious, they’ve probably been caught up somewhere.” Stan tried to reassure his wife, at the same time trying to remember the last time it had taken them an hour to get home, and realising that he couldn’t. He looked at the clock, nine thirty. Rachel and Daniel usually left earlier than this when they visited, eager to get the children to bed, but the afternoon game of chess between Daniel and his father had gone on until the evening. Rachel and Cynthia had got to chatting, going through some old family photographs and the time had crept up on them all.

  Cynthia pressed the receiver closer to her ear, “Come on, where are you?” She swallowed, trying to stay calm, probably got a flat tyre or something.

  Another ten minutes passed, she’d set the receiver down and redialled the number over and over. No reply.

  “Stan, I’m really worried now, can we just go and check, see if they’ve broken down somewhere?”

  Stan could see by his wife’s expression that she was sick with worry “Ok love, I’ll go, you stay here in case they ring. Which they’ll probably do as soon as I get in the car eh?” He smiled and Cynthia smiled back. Her stomach churned and so did his.

  The rain hammered against his windscreen as Stan drove, making it difficult to see, the windscreen wipers were slapping side to side barely clearing the water away. He tried to concentrate on the road, his mind full of excuses as to why his son and daughter in law hadn’t called. And then he saw them, the signs ahead. ROAD CLOSED POLICE ACCIDENT. A police car parked sideways across the road, a police officer wearing a white flat hat standing in the pouring rain turning traffic back. The roads had been almost empty and there was only one car ahead of Stan, the police officer leaning into the driver’s window and pointing back in the direction of where Stan had just come. As it turned around Stan drove up to the officer and wound his window down, his hands shaking.

  “Evening sir, “I’m sorry but you’re going to have to turn back, there’s an accident up ahead, where are you travelling to?” Water poured down the officer’s face as he spoke.

  “What’s happened?” Stan looked ahead but could see nothing, the bend in the road ahead obscuring his view; the cordon was set far back from the accident site.

  “A car’s been hit by a train, this road’s going to be closed for some time I’m afraid.”

  “My son came this way on his way home with his family, they were supposed to call us but they haven’t, we were worried something had happened.” Stan watched as a police car pulled up behind him, the officer raised his hand and the car went round them and disappeared, blue lights going.

  “Well, if they came this way they’d have been turned round, probably took another route, maybe they got lost?” The officer wiped his face with a handkerchief.

  “Did you see them?” Stan felt sick. “They’re a young couple, my son would have been driving, his wife in the front and my grandchildren in the back, Jonathan, he’s two and Stevie, she’s just a baby, do you remember turning them back?”

  The look on the officer’s face said it all. Stan sat back in his seat.

  “Sir, could you give me their registration number and make of vehicle, I’ll just check if they did come this way.” The officer took out his pocket note
book, trying to shield it from the driving rain, knowing that the man that sat before him knew exactly what he was doing. “Sir?” He looked at Stan’s face, “Sir?” He repeated quietly.

  “It’s a white Ford Escort, I don’t know the registration number, I think it’s got 157 in it. I’m not sure.” Stan’s voice broke, “Are they dead?” He looked at the officer his hands gripping the steering wheel.

  “I don’t know Sir, I honestly don’t, I won’t be a moment.” The officer stepped away from Stan’s car and then turned back, “Sorry Sir, could I take your name?”