I’ll tell you no lies Page 13
Dunston’s farm was impressive, even Lucy had to admit that. This had been her first time on an actual working farm. This wasn’t one of those farms that have a few livestock and barely ekes out a living on the back of school trips, weekend family visits and a shop selling sweets and toy farmyard animals. This was the real deal, an eight hundred-head intensive beef production unit. This was no game they were playing this was big business, and according to Georgie it was doing well.
It was doing well enough for them to have a top of the range New England harvester that looked as though it had just been delivered, and enough John Deere equipment to look like they’d opened a franchise right there on the farm.
But the smell, Lucy just couldn’t handle the smell, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year; bullshit everywhere you turned. At least she now understood where the saying “hanging around like a bad smell” must have come from. She had to giggle at Georgie being linked to hanging around like a bad smell, it was more than apt. That was after all what he’d done for the previous two years; he’d hung around her like a bad smell.
Georgie Dunston hadn’t been a major concern to her, no big problem, she’d coped with most of the crap at school without much of a fuss, she just blanked it out, or Sally-Anne helped her out and she got on with life. As often and as hard as she tried though, this bad smell just wouldn’t take the hint and piss off.
Some people just can’t take the sensible options in life, make the tough decisions; they just aren’t able to realise their mistakes and leave well alone. Sally-Anne thought that now was the perfect time for Lucy to wash away the smell that was Georgie Dunston, once and for all. He’d unwittingly set up the perfect opportunity, his untrained, over active and immature libido had finally caught him out. The irony of it all was just too much for Sally-Anne, she wasn’t just having a giggle now; she was splitting her sides with uncontrollable laughter.
During Lucy’s tour of the farm she couldn’t help but think what a dangerous place it actually was. Safety wasn’t really the main issue in a place like this; competence was what counted. Incompetence coupled with that environment would be a dangerous combination. Safety would be a secondary feature in those circumstances. And here she was with Georgie, left in charge of a potential bloodbath in the making, alone with Lucy and Sally-Anne, a guardian angel with a sense of protection more than capable of producing a bloodbath in her pursuit of what she believed to be Lucy’s happiness.
Run Georgie, run. Run run as fast as you can!
The plough attachments he showed her that could turn over soil at some ridiculous rate could make easy work of slicing through human flesh at the same rate. He showed her harvesting machines so powerful that they could make a man unrecognisable in mere seconds. The bailing spike attachment Georgie had shown her could kill a man effortlessly, but very painfully, and if you got him in the right place it could take hours to die. These were barely scratching the surface of possibility for harm on a farm.
Georgie peorgie pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry.
Lucy despised him, hated everything about him. She hated everything she saw in those eyes, eyes that couldn’t bear to be off her for too long, undressing her in his mind, a mind filled with his dirty little desires. She despised his intentions, his need for self-gratification at her expense, his total unwavering self-belief.
When the girls come out to play,
It’s Georgie who should run away!
She weighed up her options carefully, so much choice. She felt safe with Sally-Anne there in her head; Sally-Anne wouldn’t let any harm come to her, whatever she decided.
No rush, you take your time. This idiot’s going nowhere so treasure the moment. We’ve given him plenty of opportunities to run; now it’s payback time Lucy, the very best time of your life.
Lucy couldn’t do it though; when it came to it her capacity to take another life just wasn’t there. Lucy couldn’t kill him; as much as she hated him, he’d done her no harm. He hadn’t threatened her life; she despised him and everything he represented, but killing him wouldn’t make her feel any better.
But it would give us a giggle, Lucy. Don’t forget that.
But he’s just a man with big ideas, Sally-Anne. He just wants to get his grubby little hands on me, have his bit of fun. His intentions aren’t exactly honourable but he probably wouldn’t harm a fly. If you see every man that wants to get his hands on me as a corpse just waiting to happen then there won’t be many men left in this world soon, especially if you believe what Stein says.
You mean we’ve actually come here so you two can study?
It didn’t set out that way and he might not like it but it’s his safest option, he should be grateful that’s all we’re doing. And that is all we’re doing, Sally-Anne. Understand?
No reply.
It appeared that Sally-Anne was sulking, sat in one corner of Lucy’s mind with her bottom lip stuck out like a child who’s been caught with her hand in the biscuit jar just before dinner. They’d never fallen out before, they’d had differences of opinion but Lucy had always trusted Sally-Anne in the past.
Lucy had come to Dunston’s farm with every intention of ending Georgie’s short life. The hatred was there, but when the crunch came she couldn’t do it; it wasn’t in Lucy’s make up. If Sally-Anne didn’t like it Sally-Anne could sulk all she wanted. Lucy was no more a killer than mother Teresa. Unfortunately Sally-Anne was no more like mother Teresa than Saddam Hussein.
Lucy didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to. She didn’t want to be there any more, even though she’d actually enjoyed the tour of the farm. She couldn’t bear to be with Georgie; the requirement for being there had gone so she made her excuses and got the hell out of there, her sanity just about still intact.
Chalk another one up for Georgie boy.
He might well have been self-obsessed, his mind on just one thing that Saturday afternoon, but he would never know just how lucky he was to be watching Lucy walking away from his little fantasy forever. Deflated ego or not, some people are destined to benefit from the rub of the green, they’re born to be fortunate, they have the luck of the Irish, others just don’t have any Irish blood they can count on in a crisis.
Jayne was at a fund raising barbecue that night at the hockey club. Lucy, not really into the hockey scene, settled down to watch a video and maybe get the biology books out for one last time that day. She was all by herself, no Jayne, and definitely no sign of Sally-Anne. She didn’t mind though, she was tired and not feeling very sociable anyway. The day in the sun had left her physically and emotionally drained; she’d probably just get an early night, recharge the batteries and hit the books again tomorrow.
Sally-Anne had failed to convince Lucy that Georgie’s life was better off being ended for their enjoyment. Maybe Lucy wasn’t beyond saviour; it was after all Sally-Anne who had the killing instinct. Lucy was beyond reproach.
…
It was Monday evenings Manchester Evening News that confirmed what Jayne had just said to Lucy about the boy from school.
Local farmer’s son brutally murdered-
In his own bed
Lucy went cold.
Could it just be a coincidence?
Could one person be so unlucky to have escaped murder on the afternoon and then be brutally murdered the same evening by a different person, someone with a different motive?
Lucy’s head was spinning; she couldn’t believe what she’d just read. Her mind then went back to a conversation she’d had with Sally-Anne. A conversation she’d shoved to the back of her mind and forgotten about until now. It was something Sally-Anne had said before she’d murdered Terence Sandford. Sally-Anne had been particularly persuasive that day but the words she’d used were just coming back to her, she hadn’t questioned the words, just filed them away neatly.
I really don’t need your agreement Lucy. I just thought you were ready to face up to what we’ve got to do.
Sally-Anne hadn’t spoken since Saturday afternoon. Lucy needed her to speak now though, she wanted to know what she’d meant when she said she didn’t need her agreement. Could it be possible that Sally-Anne could act totally independently of Lucy? Lucy couldn’t believe it, Sally-Anne was supposed to be her guardian angel. If Sally-Anne had just packed up and gone it meant she was on her own again, no guardian angel. Life had taken a turn for the better since Sally-Anne had come into her life, would it now all turn back to shit without her?
Sally-Anne, talk to me. What’s going on?
No reply.
Since when did a guardian angel just pack up and leave without saying anything, Sally-Anne? You’re there somewhere, I know you are, talk to me, you can’t do this to me!
Yes I can.
I knew you’d be there. Stop acting like a spoilt child and tell me what’s going on.
No reply.
Sally-Anne!
But nothing came back.
That was as much as she got out of Sally-Anne that evening but at least Lucy knew she wasn’t alone. Thank God for that, Lucy knew that Sally-Anne was hard work to be with at times, but without her she wouldn’t feel complete anymore.
Sally-Anne knew Lucy couldn’t cope with the shit life threw in her direction without having someone there to help, she just wanted to make sure Lucy understood it was Sally-Anne she needed in her life, above anyone or anything else.
When Lucy went to bed that night she didn’t sleep well, she was too warm and restless. When she did finally slip into a deep sleep Sally-Anne played back to her what had happened the previous Saturday evening when Lucy had fallen asleep on the sofa with her revision book lying on her chest.
Lucy dreamt that she’d woken up, stood up from the sofa, got herself ready to go out and picked up a carving knife from the kitchen. Looking at the clock she could see it was half past eight in the evening. The carving knife was slipped into her coat and she was through the door into a hot, quiet evening carrying the coat; it’s only purpose to hide the knife. She felt good about the knife, it made her feel safe in her dream, she knew no harm would come to her even though no one had ever been attacked, really attacked, in a dream.
The walk had been the same one she’d taken to Dunston’s farm the two days previously. This time though she was being especially careful to hide her presence from other people she might otherwise have passed; jumping through hedges to hide when she sensed people approaching, waiting until the coast was clear before resuming her journey.
Lucy felt somehow detached, as if it wasn’t her walking along the road, as if she was being given the privilege of observer rather than actually being there. She could see though that the person in the dream was herself, no mistaking it to be anybody other than her detached self.
When she arrived in her dream at the entrance to Dunston’s farm it seemed only right that she would turn right and walk up the long driveway towards the farmhouse, out of view of the road and all other prying eyes.
At this point in the dream Lucy began to feel uneasy, she didn’t know if this was a dream of her own making or if Sally-Anne was there pushing all the buttons. No matter who was in control of this dream, she had a good idea what the outcome was going to be, and she hoped above all else that a dream was all that was happening.
She approached the farmhouse door and knocked. Georgie answered after only a short time and was confused to see her. Sally-Anne didn’t like that look, Lucy was aware of that; she’d seen what Sally-Anne could do to a face that looked at her like that.
“Hi, Georgie, It’s only me again. You were right; it’s time we got physical with each other, we may not get this opportunity again. That is unless you’ve got anyone else in there with you.”
Lucy knew that Sally-Anne’s ‘opportunity’ and Georgie’s ‘opportunity’ were completely different things. Georgie wasn’t to know that the person suggesting that they should get down to it was anyone other than his number one fantasy girl. Lucy knew right away though that she hadn’t spoken those words. She was fairly sure at this stage in her “dream” that at some time on last Saturday evening those words had been spoken, but not by anyone Georgie Dunston wanted to get physical with. No man alive would want to get physical in the way Sally-Anne was about to get physical.
She watched the rest of the dream as she’d been made to, not because she particularly wanted to, she didn’t have much choice in the matter.
The dream culminated with Georgie, whose body she actually thought might have been worth getting to know a little better had it not been dead, losing his penis. Terry Sandford had lost his penis to Sally-Anne too, but at least she’d only thrown that to one side as if it was discarded because it was of no use to anybody. Georgie’s penis ended up being pushed up high inside his arse, and Lucy knew exactly why Sally-Anne had felt the need to play out this final insult on poor Georgie.
Georgie peorgie, pudding and pie,
Kissed the girls and made them cry,
Georgie’s life was one big farce,
Now Georgie’s prick is up his arse.
The newspaper had been correct about one thing; Georgie Dunston had been brutally murdered in his own bed. Lucy knew at least one fact that the newspaper didn’t disclose though, and that was because the police wouldn’t let information like that out to the reporters. But Lucy knew. She was well aware that Georgie still had his penis when he died; she also knew he only had it because it had been stuffed up his arse for safe keeping.
Lucy realised in her sleep that she couldn’t live without Sally-Anne. She probably could live without her in reality but she came to understand that she was never going to be given that opportunity. Sally-Anne was all powerful and it was only in Lucy’s best interest to play along. How could Lucy explain to anybody what she had living in her head? At best she’d be seen as unstable at worst a complete murdering basket case.
Lucy woke up late in the middle of the night sweating; it was as if she didn’t want to face reality, but face it she did.
You said he was up his own arse, Lucy. I only made sure the rest of his family knew too.
No reply.
Come on now, Lucy. You must admit it; life can be quite a giggle if you want it to be.
No reply.
Have it your way, but remember this sweetheart, I really don’t need your agreement Lucy. I just thought you were ready to face up to what we’ve got to do. I was wrong, so I had to take things out of your hands.
Lucy knew this now but she wasn’t going to give Sally-Anne the satisfaction of admitting it. She stayed silent, and settled down again to try and get some sleep, she wanted to forget what she’d just dreamed of, but the visions of Georgie pleading for his life wouldn’t go away. Sleep was going to be very difficult that night.
You do trust me don’t you, Lucy? One way or the other, it doesn’t really make an awful lot of difference to me. But it might make your life a lot easier if you do.
Trust me, Lucy. I’m right on this one.
TRUST ME!
Seventeen
Wednesday was Jayne’s birthday, twenty-six years old and life felt good. It was about to feel much better though. Breakfast was usually a rushed affair on a school day in the Parkinson / Kirkpatrick household, not today though. Today was a special day, Lucy slipped out of their bed early, she never did manage get back to sleep, breakfast was prepared and she returned with a tray just as Jayne’s alarm clock made its presence felt.
Hot croissants, Strawberries and cream, bucks fizz and coffee, better than a quick piece of toast just before leaving in a mad panic, their usual breakfast fare. There was also a birthday card on the tray which Lucy insisted be opened before anything else was even considered.
“I couldn’t think what to get for your birthday so I hope you’ll like this.” Said Lucy, picking up what looked like a birthday card and handing it to Jayne.
“I’m sure whatever it is I’ll be more than happy with it,” replied Jayne, “after all we know each other’s minds v
ery well, I know I’ll like it.”
She doesn’t know your mind as well as she thinks she does, Lucy? But I think we can forgive her that, after all she’s very good in bed, what do you say, Lucy?
No reply.
Jayne was more than a little intrigued though, sitting on the bed in just her skin. There weren’t any bottles of perfume or antique silver necklaces that could fit inside a birthday card. These had been the things she’d been dropping hints about for the last month whenever they’d been out shopping together, hints she’d hoped Lucy would tune into. She wasn’t disappointed, but how could Lucy have missed such blatant unspoken requests?
With the card now out of its envelope she could feel that there was something else in there too when another envelope fell out of the birthday card landing on the bed between them.
“This is exciting,” said Jayne, “the suspense is killing me. Don’t you just love birthdays?”
“Not all of them, but I’m liking this one so far, come on Jayne, open it and see what it is. I hope you’ll like it.”
“Okay okay, here goes.”
Jayne opened the envelope like a child on Christmas morning, there was no finesse about it, and she was more than a little confused when she found air tickets for the British Airways shuttle to London. To be more accurate, an air ticket, singular, Manchester to Heathrow, open ended.