Fatal Page 14

  For the next few minutes Bree said nothing as she continued to walk with Franny at her side. They turned down the small country lane, past the small woodland and distant farmhouse.

  ‘They were right, you are special.’

  Franny frowned, ‘What?’

  ‘I heard Lola and Alfie talking about you. They both said it, and you know something, I agree.’

  Taken aback by the sentiment and not good at receiving such compliments, Franny joked as she deflected the conversation. ‘Bree, I’m not being funny, but I’m a city girl, I really don’t do the long country walks bit. Come on, why don’t we just turn back home … Please, come back to the house.’

  Spreading her arms out as she stood in the middle of the road, Bree looked at Franny warmly. ‘I appreciate the chat, but it doesn’t change anything. Franny, don’t you understand, I want you to have your happiness with Alfie. I’ll be fine, I always have been.’

  Exasperated, Franny snapped, ‘For God’s sake, Bree, just come back.’

  ‘Why? What for? It’s you Alfie wants. I just know it. I’m not going to kid myself.’

  Quickly pulling Bree towards her and back onto the grass verge to let a speeding truck past, Franny grinned. ‘You’re going to get us both killed if you’re not careful, though maybe Alfie would like that, save him the headache of two women!’

  They both burst into laughter before Franny said seriously, ‘Bree, I know Alfie, and I know he cares about you.’ She stopped to put out her hand and added, ‘Please, come on, what do you say? Let’s go back to the house, sort this out properly.’

  ‘I can’t, Franny, because, to quote Alfie, it’s complicated.’

  ‘How complicated can it be?’

  Bree rubbed her head. She spoke quickly, her emotions getting the better of her as tears ran down her face. ‘Look, Franny, I know you mean well, but I’d rather you just leave it. I don’t want to get into this. It’s all a mess and I thought – well, what I mean is sometimes loving someone isn’t enough and you just have to accept that things don’t always work out. And truthfully, it doesn’t help that you’re being so nice to me or that I really like you, and it certainly doesn’t frigging help that I’m—’ About to say something she shouldn’t, Bree snapped closed her mouth quickly.

  ‘What? What were you going to say, Bree?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  Franny narrowed her eyes, her voice firm. ‘I’ve been around a lot of bullshitters, Alfie being one of them, and I know when somebody is giving me the brush-off. Tell me what you were going to say, Bree, because I can be as stubborn as Alfie and I ain’t going anywhere until you tell me.’

  ‘Please, just go, go home, Franny. Go back to Alfie.’

  ‘Tell me!’

  Frustrated and full of tears, Bree shouted back, ‘Why won’t you just leave it?’

  Franny grabbed Bree’s arm and held it. ‘I said, tell me! Tell me, Bree!’

  ‘I can’t!’

  ‘Just fucking tell me!’

  ‘Okay, fine! I’m pregnant … I’m pregnant.’

  Franny felt it like a slap. A hard, sobering slap. Everything in that moment felt unreal, and a heavy pain descended on her. Reeling, she said quietly, ‘Is it Alfie’s?’

  ‘I … I …’

  Agitated, Franny raised her voice, desperate to hear the answer but terrified at the same time. ‘I said, is it Alfie’s?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think so, but there’s a chance it could be my ex-husband’s … Franny, I’m so sorry, none of this was supposed to happen.’

  It took over a minute for Franny to trust herself to speak as she steadied herself on her feet, willing herself to be strong. Swallowing hard to stop the nausea from overwhelming her, it felt like Alfie was slipping even further away from her.

  Once she had herself under control, she said, with a deep sadness, ‘It’s times like these I wish I could feel like other people do. You know, I wish I could scream and shout and tell you how much I hate you, tell you how much it hurts, but I can’t. It leaves me feeling like I’ve got a big inflated balloon inside me that won’t pop. When anything’s too difficult, I become numb, tougher. Alfie calls it cold, and maybe it is, but it’s the way I was brought up.’

  Franny stopped to mimic an Irish accent. ‘Don’t let anything pull you down, Franny Doyle. Don’t ever let me see you fall down on your knees. Don’t let others ever see your weakness. Learn to hide your emotions, learn to cut yourself off from pain and that way you’ll survive. That way, Franny, you’ll always be on top.’ She smiled sadly. ‘But it’s not true, is it?’

  ‘Franny, I’m sorry … I—’

  ‘This isn’t your fault, you don’t need to apologise, Bree.’

  ‘But I do, I …’

  Franny shook her head. ‘No, you don’t … I take it Alfie doesn’t know.’

  Kicking at the few daisies amongst the weeds, Bree glanced up at Franny. ‘I couldn’t tell him. I was going to but … but … Do you hate me?’

  ‘Like I say, I can’t hate you. I don’t think I’d want to anyway. Maybe that would be easier, but I actually like you. Look, let’s go back and sort this out.’ Franny stopped and winked, her eyes suddenly filled with warmth and mischief as she gave Bree a genuine smile. ‘Failing that, let’s go home and give Alfie some grief.’

  Alfie paced about the kitchen. He was a fool; he should’ve kept his mouth shut. Moreover, he should’ve stopped Bree from going instead of letting Franny run after her, or maybe he shouldn’t. Oh shit, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he didn’t understand women. Not one little bit. Women talked about men playing games, but you only had to look at Franny and Bree. First, Franny was playing it cool towards Bree, and then the next thing he knew, she was running after Bree as if they were best friends. His number-one rule from now on was never get on the wrong side of a woman, and certainly never get on the wrong side of two women.

  He had to think how to handle it, so it wouldn’t kick off again. If Franny came back on her own then he would make sure she knew how … Oh shit. That was the front door. Too late. Play it cool, he had to play it cool.

  Going through into the hallway, Alfie readied himself for his half-prepared speech, but he suddenly stopped dead. The front door was open and his blood ran cold … Standing in front of him were four men wearing demonic clown masks and holding guns. A deathly silence hanging in the air as the men stared at him. He could hear his own ragged breathing as he took a step back, edging backwards towards the lounge, his mind racing as the men continued to stare, dark eyes through the slits of their masks. But a sudden sound above him made him turn and, with horror, he watched Alice begin to walk down the stairs. The only words that came out of his mouth were, ‘Run, Alice, run!’ before a blow to his head knocked him out.

  27

  As Alice heard Alfie cry out in pain – too scared to think about what might’ve happened to him – she charged along the top landing, fear pushing her faster as she shouted in terror at the top of her voice. ‘Dad! Dad! Dad! Help me! Dad!’

  Panic shot through her as she ran towards Cabhan’s room, her body shaking as she heard the sound of running feet getting closer.

  The door of Cabhan’s room swung open, but on seeing the masked men only a few feet behind Alice, Cabhan grabbed her, pulling her into the room, slamming and locking the door.

  Alarmed, he yelled at his daughter. ‘Help me with this! Quick!’

  Alice nodded as she helped Cabhan haul the large black mirrored wardrobe in front of the door to barricade them in as the intruders pounded on it. Cabhan, his face drained and fearful for his daughter, spoke hurriedly, beads of sweat beginning to drip from him.

  ‘We haven’t got much time. You’ve got to get out of here, they’re after you, Alice.’

  Trembling, Alice’s face held a picture of confusion and fear. She could barely utter the words as she stared at Cabhan in shock, her voice the tiniest of whispers. ‘Me? They’re after me?’

  ‘Look, I’ll ex
plain later … Get down!’

  Suddenly, Cabhan threw her onto the floor as shots were fired and a gruff American voice growled out from the other side of the door.

  ‘Do yourself a fucking favour and give it up now, give her up, Cabhan, there’s nowhere for her to hide.’

  Although the mask muffled the voice, Cabhan immediately recognised it, and an icy chill ran through him. Salvatore Russo. Questions of how they found them so quickly ran through his head, but he turned back to Alice, dragging her upright as he began to bundle her towards the window. He spoke quietly as he unlocked it, his hands shaking. ‘You’ve got to get out this way. It’s your only chance. You haven’t got much time.’

  In a state of terror, Alice felt she couldn’t breathe. She gasped, ‘They were at my school! Dad, they were the same people at my school! Who are they? Why do they want me?’

  Cabhan held Alice’s arm tightly, frantically pushing her even closer to the open window.

  ‘Alice, you’ve got to go! Go!’

  Suddenly understanding what it was her father wanted her to do, Alice’s eyes flitted to the door and then to the window and the sheer drop below. Petrified, she shook her head as hysteria began to overwhelm her. She spoke quickly, her voice beginning to rise in panic. ‘I can’t! Daddy, please, I can’t! I can’t, I’ll fall. And what about you? What about Alfie? He was in the hallway! We’ve got to go and make sure he’s all right. Dad, we’ve got to go and find Alfie. Dad!’

  Tears pricked Cabhan’s eyes as, panicked, he slapped her hard across the face. ‘Alice, for God’s sake, just shut up and go! Please, it’s your only chance. If they find you in here, they’ll kill you, but before they do they’ll …’ Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Cabhan stopped, unable to contemplate the horrific torture she’d go through before they actually killed her.

  More fearful than she’d ever felt in her life, Alice trembled, her legs shaking so hard they bounced off each other. ‘Dad … Please … Dad …’

  A loud bang on the door triggered Cabhan to pick Alice roughly up and start pushing her through the window.

  ‘No, Dad! No! You’ll kill me, please! Stop! Stop!’ she screamed, clinging and holding onto the sides of the painted window frame, kicking and trying to push backwards as Cabhan shook her, trying to release her grip.

  ‘Let go, Alice, let go. Just fucking do as you’re told.’

  ‘I don’t understand. Dad, whatever it is I’ve done, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’

  The agony and horror of what he was doing to his daughter was overshadowed by the knowledge of what would happen if he didn’t. He cried out in despair, his words jumbled with Alice’s sobs of terror. ‘I love you, Alice, I love you!’

  And with that, Cabhan shoved Alice out of the window and onto the wide ledge, preferring her to die from her fall rather than at the hands of the Russos.

  Cabhan slammed the window shut, locked it quickly and threw the key up onto one of the bookshelves before quickly pulling down the wooden blinds.

  Suddenly, there was a massive crash as the wardrobe collapsed from the gunfire, mirrored glass shattering everywhere as the Russos and their men shot their way in.

  From behind his mask, Salvatore grinned. ‘Cabhan, Ciao! It’s good to see you, my friend. I take it you were expecting us? We did tell you there’s no place to hide. So come on, where is she? Under the bed? In the bathroom?’ He gestured his head towards the en suite.

  ‘Go to hell, Salvatore.’

  ‘Now that’s not nice. I came all this way to see you and this is how you treat me. Does our friendship mean nothing to you?’ Salvatore aimed his gun, firing and shooting off Cabhan’s left hand.

  Cabhan, dropping to the floor, screamed in agony. Blood poured out, turning the cream carpet red as flesh and tendons hung out from the stump of his arm.

  Stepping forward, Salvatore towered over Cabhan. He smiled as he spoke. ‘I always like things to come in pairs, seems a bit tidier, doesn’t it?’

  Whereupon Salvatore Russo shot off Cabhan’s other hand. A moment later Cabhan blacked out. His last thoughts were of Alice.

  28

  In the same moment that Salvatore and his men shot their way into Cabhan’s bedroom, Alice, feeling like she was going to be sick, tried to stop herself from screaming as she balanced on the wide window ledge, pinning her body against the rough bricks of the house, afraid to look down. Too terrified to make a move, to turn her head, to blink, to breathe, she was certain that any movement would send her falling to her death.

  As she continued to shake, nervous of losing her balance, above her Alice could see a cast-iron window box full of pink and white flowers cascading down the wall. From where she was she could see it was bolted to the bricks, and an idea struck her: if she was careful, really careful, she might manage to reach up and grab a hold.

  Taking a deep breath to settle herself, Alice, saying a silent prayer and feeling the warm wind on her face, tried to stretch one hand up, but as she did so it felt like her whole body was tipping forward, sliding off the ledge to the hard ground below. Swallowing a terrified scream, she slammed back, pressing herself against the wall, pulling her stomach in to hold herself steady.

  Closing her eyes, Alice heard voices from inside and knew she had to try again before it was too late. Shuffling as far back as she could with her legs still dangling over the ledge, inch by inch she slowly raised her right arm, despite her body trembling as she drove all her weight towards her spine.

  With her hands shaking, she felt her fingertips brush against metal, millimetres away from the bar of the window box, but she couldn’t quite reach, couldn’t quite stretch high enough. The only way for her to grab onto the bar would be to push herself up onto one knee first.

  Petrified, but not allowing herself to cry, Alice felt dizzy with her hand still up in the air and didn’t trust herself to bring it back down again. Preparing herself, her left hand on the ledge, her fingers spread wide taking the tension, taking the weight of her body, she built up the courage to push herself up.

  She counted down slowly.

  Three

  Two

  One …

  Then Alice pushed, pulling her knee underneath her, but almost immediately she found herself sliding forward again. Desperately, she frantically snatched at the bar as her body swung round, tipping her sideways off the ledge, her shoulder burning in pain as she tried to hold on, as she wildly struggled to reach up with her other hand, letting out a panicked, muffled cry.

  Alfie Jennings staggered along the path along the side of the house, the blow to his head making him dizzy. Hearing a sound, he stopped suddenly and jumped into the shadows. There it was again. Trying to figure out where the noise had come from, he looked around and saw nothing as he pushed himself against the wall. Then, cautiously looking up, he froze, stunned. Alice! Jesus Christ, Alice! His eyes darted around the large garden and although he couldn’t see anybody, he didn’t want to risk calling up to her in case anyone heard.

  Without letting Alice know he’d seen her, Alfie hurriedly made his way round to one of the side doors to the stone backstairs, which took him directly into Janine’s dressing room, trying to stay calm and keep the panic at bay.

  With blood running down his head, silently Alfie crept through the interconnecting doors to Janine’s bedroom, tiptoeing over to the main door to lock it before running over to the window. Carefully, not wanting to give Alice a fright, Alfie gently pulled it open. He whispered, ‘Alice! Alice! It’s me!’

  Terror was etched into Alice’s face as sweat ran down it. ‘Alfie, help me! Help me! I can’t hold on any longer!’

  The ledge where Alice was balanced was just over an arm’s reach from Alfie and pushing his fear for her aside, he spoke firmly and quickly, knowing that time wasn’t on her side. ‘Sshhh, Alice, don’t shout, baby, they’ll hear you. Look, you’ve got to swing towards me. Throw yourself forward and I’ll grab your hand. Come on, Alice, come on!’

  Alice stared into Alfie�
��s eyes, her whole body trembling. Her voice the tiniest of whispers. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Alice, for God’s sake, come on!’

  Crying, Alice shook her head. ‘I can’t! I can’t, Alfie!’

  ‘You can, baby, you can, just keep looking at me. Don’t look down, Alice! That’s it, girl, that’s it. Now you’re just going to throw yourself forward. I promise I’ll catch you.’

  Traumatised and still clinging onto the bar, Alice began to cry harder. ‘Alfie, no, it’s too far.’

  Alfie glanced down, as unsure as Alice if he’d be able to do what he promised. He chose his words carefully, somehow trying to get Alice to trust him. ‘Listen, darlin’, I know how brave you are, and I need you to be brave now, sweetheart. If you don’t do it now, any minute, those men in there will come out and find you. Trust me, Alice, I’ll catch you. I swear on the Bible I will.’

  Triggered by his words, a sudden hope flickered in Alice’s eyes. ‘You’ll catch me?’

  ‘Yes, baby. On my life.’

  Pausing only for a moment, Alice nodded then, taking a deep breath and quickly closing her eyes, she leapt forward, feeling nothing but air, her legs scrambling, her arms flying in nothingness, fear rushing through her … before she felt the hard tug of Alfie’s hold pulling her up.

  Alfie leant back, his feet jammed against the wall for support as he desperately tried to pull Alice up, frantically trying to maintain his grip.

  ‘Don’t let me fall, Alfie, don’t let me fall!’

  Alice clung onto Alfie, but she could feel her grasp slipping as Alfie, wet with perspiration, hissed through gritted teeth and with sheer determination kept trying to lift her. ‘Keep still, Alice!’

  ‘I’m falling, Alfie, I’m falling!’