Silent - Part 14: Lucy

Two Years Earlier, Lucy

Can't stop thinking about you, Ash had texted.

In the field, she lit another cigarette. Her shift would begin in about twenty minutes and she wasn't looking forward to it. Serving a three course meal to a bunch of music students, the type that had ignored her when she'd been a pupil at the former Prep School ten years ago. Dad had taught violin and viola at the school, but she hadn't played an instrument and she'd never fitted in or made friends.

An outsider. Lonely, then and now. She longed for Ash and Maxine. And Bruce, Ash's dog, an Alsatian with pointed ears and muddy brown eyes. They all loved the dog. Big mad Bruce who liked to chase pigeons in the woods near where they lived, paws skidding through puddles and leaves and grass. A huge dog. But he was a big baby really, Bruce. Ash and his mates from college were always wrestling with the dog and he never bit or growled or protested. And he always cried if you left him for a few moments and he'd scream again when you returned, howling until you finally got the message and made a big fuss of him.

Something like crunching footsteps interrupted her thoughts.  She looked round. Nothing, apart from the empty field with a line of nettles by the fence and barbed wiring.

It was time to return to the bungalow to change into uniform. Stubbing out the cigarette, she got up from the tree trunk and crossed the field. She climbed a stile and moved on towards the private driveway leading back to Lyme House. The weather was muggy, like yesterday when she'd first arrived here after ten years. Tears stung her eyes, blinding her vision, and she stumbled on, nearly tripping on uneven grounding, struggling to contain her hiccupping sobs.

Evil, evil, evil building.  Lyme House had robbed her, destroyed her life.  Betrayed her and Mum.

Afterwards, the police uncovered a different side to Dad. A week before the fire, he'd bought a single plane ticket under a different name. He'd built up debts that Mum hadn't known about.  He'd planned to leave Mum and her. The police believed he'd hired someone to start the fire and a second person to keep watch. Because he was in some sort of trouble and could no longer cope. Nervous Breakdown.  The words screamed at her now as she passed a set of picnic tables by a cluster of trees.  Stupid, stupid words.  Not a nervous breakdown, a selfish act.  He'd planned to abandoned Mum and her.

But she didn't believe Dad was responsible for the fire.

Afterwards, Mum's brother and his wife adopted her and she went to live with them and Bossy-Olivia in North Yorkshire. A reasonable upbringing.  Except it wasnt really hers.   Everyone in the new neighbourhood knew she was different, an orphan with a vague back story.  

Footsteps.  A snapping branch.

Field empty.

She climbed another stile and stepped into the next field, following the path to the driveway.

The sensation again. Someone watching her.

She picked up speed, wanting to get away from the thickening stillness and the rows of fields that left her exposed.  

The sounds continued.  Crunching grass. More footsteps.  

Then silence, apart from rustling in the hedges further down.

She ran the rest of the way back to the alleyway that separated the bungalow from Lyme House, and arrived at the bungalow out of breath. The sun had vanished, leaving a shade of dirty grey and a chill, despite the summer season. The bungalow stared back at her, windows dark and unwelcoming.  She was sharing with two girls, Veronica and Michelle, but the property belonged to her late grandfather's cousin Agnes Harlesden, former principal of the Prep School, currently abroad.  

She made her way across the unkempt stretch of grass in the centre of the lawn to the front door, coming to a halt when she heard a rustle of movement nearby.  

'Who's there?'

No answer.  

She fumbled around for her keys, her hands shaking. Thrusting the key in the lock, she pushed the front door open and hurried indoors.  The bungalow was empty. She tiptoed to her room, and perching low, peered out of her window, taking care to remain out of sight.  There were no signs of movement outside or everything suspicious, only the empty alley and the late afternoon sunlight.

She turned.  That's when she noticed something amiss.

What's this?

Her travel bag was on the bed, open.  Earlier, she'd placed it by the far side of her bed, zipped up like always.

She took a look in the bag.  

Someone had rummaged through her belongings.