Silent Scream

Kim was shouting in her ear. ‘Tell me, Nicola. What did you tell your sister?’

‘I told her she could have the damned cardigan if it would make her happy,’ Nicola screamed.

Silence fell between them. Suddenly the fight left Nicola’s body and she fell to the ground, taking Kim with her.

Kim refused to let go. She sat on the floor, holding Nicola close. Kim knew the events of ten years ago were finally playing in her mind.

‘She took it, didn’t she?’

Nicola nodded and Kim could feel the tears dripping onto her hands.

‘So, they all thought she was you, didn’t they, because of the cardigan?’

Nicola nodded again. ‘One minute I looked outside and she was playing with the others and then I couldn’t find her. I kept asking people and they all told me she was somewhere else. In the end I went to my room to wait for her but she never came.

‘Later, just before the fire, I saw them out of the kitchen window. They were all standing around a hole and I knew. I didn’t know what to do. I was scared they were going to come back for me so when the fire started I was just relieved that they couldn’t get me anymore.’

Kim knew that Beth wouldn’t have been able to run away. Her knee wouldn’t have allowed it in that cold weather.

‘When did Beth come back, Nicola?’

‘About two weeks ago,’ she answered hoarsely.

When the a

‘You know now that you brought her back, don’t you, Nicola?’

‘Noooooo ...’

The sound was that of a keening animal. A poor wounded soul that was writhing in pain. Kim held fast while Nicola tried to escape the events in her own head.

The knowledge of what she’d done as Beth was not to be shared now. It was a realisation Nicola would reach eventually in the care of a good psychiatrist.

As she sat rocking the young, broken girl whose guilt had gained control of her, Kim doubted that Nicola would ever be fit to stand trial for the murder of Teresa Wyatt, Tom Curtis and Arthur Co

After a few minutes, Kim gently eased herself backwards.

It was time to make the call.

Seventy-Seven

William added a drop of cold milk to the porridge. He bent his little finger and touched the knuckle to the food. Perfect.

He smiled. Lucy’s favourite.

His daughter had been washed and changed and now awaited her breakfast. After that he would clean the bathroom and change the beds. Following lunch the oven was in for a deep clean.

He smiled again. He knew people felt sorry for him and the life he lived but, he reasoned, those people did not know Lucy.

His daughter’s spirit inspired him every single day. She was the most courageous and thoughtful person he had ever known.

He understood that her biggest frustration was her inability to speak clearly and some days the effort of communicating all that occurred in her head through eye movement tired her.

But between them they had a pact. On the darker days, he would ask her if she’d had enough. William had told her years ago that he would always respect her wishes and that he would never prolong her life through his own selfish needs.

On those days he would ask her the question and hold his breath while he waited for the answer. The hesitations had grown longer, while the breath in his chest grew fuller, but so far he’d always received one blink.

He dreaded the day it all got too much for her to bear and he received two blinks. He only hoped he had the strength to keep his promise. For her sake.

William pushed the thought away. Yesterday had been a good day. Lucy had had a visitor.

William hadn’t recognised her at first. The young girl introduced herself as Paula Andrews and after studying her for a few seconds he had remembered her as the granddaughter of Mary Andrews who had used to visit with her grandmother to play with Lucy. He had been genuinely saddened when Mary had recently passed away. She had been a great friend to him during his years at Crestwood. Her burial had taken place a few days earlier and although he had not attended he had watched the funeral procession from his bedroom window.

Lucy had recognised Paula instantly and had been delighted with the visit. Within minutes they had formed their own method of communication from which William had been excluded. He had never been happier.

To her credit, Paula had shown no reaction to the physical change in her old friend.

He had skulked away to the kitchen for a few moments, nervous for the wellbeing of his daughter. He would never stop anyone visiting with his child but he was powerless to bring about their return. But he accepted that he could not protect her from every disappointment life had to offer.

Somehow the two girls had found a way to play a board game. He had heard Paula exclaim, ‘Lucy Payne, you haven’t changed a bit. You were always a little cheat.’

William had heard Lucy’s gurgle which he knew to be a laugh and his heart had leaped.

He had ventured outside for just half an hour and pulled out a few weeds from between the slabs, safe in the knowledge that his daughter was okay. Just those few minutes in the cold morning air had revitalised him for the rest of the day.

Two hours later, Paula had sought his permission to visit again.

He had given it gladly.

He took the porridge through to the living room and sat on the footstool. Lucy’s complexion was rosy and bright, her eyes alert and focused. Today was a good day. Paula’s visit had been good for both of them.

‘Don’t you ever get bored of porridge?’

One blink.

He rolled his eyes. She copied. He laughed out loud.

He brought a spoonful of oats to her mouth. She took it and scrunched her face in appreciation. The second spoonful was on its way when the doorbell sounded.

He placed the dish on the windowsill.

He opened the door and panic rose in him immediately.

Before him stood a male and female both dressed in black trouser suits. He carried a briefcase but she had a shoulder bag.

He immediately thought of social services but they were not due for a visit and they always let him know first. In the early days following the departure of his wife, William had been forced into battle with the authorities to keep his daughter. He had jumped through hoops and performed like a circus animal to show that he was capable. Sensing his determination, social services had started to work with him to keep the two of them together and the job at Crestwood had sealed the deal. But still, the fear lived within him that one day he would lose her.

‘Mr Payne, Mr William Payne?’

He nodded.

The female smiled widely and took a business card from her pocket. ‘My name is Ha

‘But ... I don’t ... what?’

She rubbed her hands together and blew into them. ‘Mr Payne, may we come in?’

William stepped aside.

Ha

‘Good morning, Lucy. My name is Ha

Her smile was open and warm, her tone friendly and calm, unlike the condescending tone used by most adults.

‘Are you well today?’

Lucy blinked.

‘That means yes,’ William offered.

Ha