Mrs Sheehan paused. ‘Letter? I didn’t get a letter. I’d like to check anyway. You never know, do you?’
‘I can assure you the lift is still broken. We were upstairs a minute ago. I had a look. Definitely out, isn’t it, Rob?’ Meagan turned to Oliver.
‘Huh. Yeah, it’s still broken all right. Damn lift. You can never rely on them.’
Meagan was looking past Oliver at the trunk sticking out of the lift door.
The old lady advanced, staring. ‘You look different, young man. Have you lost weight?’
Oliver froze, struggling to hide his shocked expression, thinking what to say to the curious neighbour. ‘Well, that would be the lift, you know. All that walking up and down the stairs. Bound to be good for you. At least there’s a plus side.’
Meagan was still staring at the part of the trunk that was poking out of the lift. Any second now, Mrs Sheehan would see it and ask what was inside. How would they explain away this one? Thankfully, the hall was dark.
‘Look, why don’t I walk you up? I’ll take your trolley. You must be tired.’ Meagan linked Mrs Sheehan’s arm, leading her to the stairs. ‘Did you hear about the burglaries? Shocking isn’t it?’ Meagan’s voice became distant.
Oliver listened to Mrs Sheehan’s concerned voice as it drifted from where he stood.
‘No. When was this? It’s getting worse, isn’t it? What’s wrong with some people? You just don’t know with young folk these days, do you?’
Oliver listened to the conversation as the ladies disappeared up the stairs.
Oliver was wondering what to do now he had the body in the lift, when he heard a phone ringing. Gloved-man’s mobile had been inside the front pocket of his jeans. He debated whether to answer. If he didn’t, whoever was calling would likely get suspicious. But what would he say if he answered? It stopped, and Oliver let out a sigh of relief. Moving over to the stairs, he listened for Meagan. The phone rang again. Oliver decided he had to answer as it would draw unnecessary attention if the phone continued ringing. He reached into his pocket, wishing he had dumped the phone earlier. Pulling the mobile out, he slid his finger across the screen. Oliver listened to the voice on the other end. He kept quiet, as still as possible, listening.
‘Tony, where are you? I’ve been calling all evening. We have another job. This one owes money big time. She needs threatening. Don’t go heavy yet. Hello. Hello?’
Oliver ended the call. ‘Shit.’
It rang a second later.
‘What the fuck is wrong with you? Do I need to call over? You fucking know how much it aggravates me when you hang up.’
Oliver dropped the phone. They had to get out of here, fast.
16
Twenty years ago - Before the phone call
Meagan lay in bed, listening to the loud voices coming from downstairs. Her father shouting, her mother crying, asking him questions. She could hear them clearly; her mother was pleading with him.
‘Why did you do it? How could you? What were you thinking? She’s just a little girl! You know how much Meagan and Sarah loved the pet.’
Meagan worked out it had something to do with the guinea pig and its missing head. She thought maybe her father had tried to fix it but just made things worse. She clutched her grey toy bunny, worrying that his head would also fall off.
Loud crashes were coming from the kitchen. Her mother walked to the living room, her father shouting after her, ordering her not to walk away while he spoke.
Meagan pulled the covers over her face, trying to drown out the noise from downstairs. She placed the cloth bunny on the pillow, kissing it goodnight. ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you, don’t worry. I’ll look after you, I promise.’
She knelt on the floor beside the bed, saying her prayers. ‘Please, God, protect Mummy. Look after her and don’t let anything happen. I love her very much. Also, please help my daddy to not be so angry. Mummy says that when you’re loved by your family, nothing else matters. We love Daddy, so he doesn’t need to worry about anything else. Please, God, make him also stop shouting at Mummy and making her cry. Amen.’
She climbed back into bed, tucking her cloth bunny in, placing the blanket around its chest to keep it warm.
An hour later, Meagan woke. The room was dark. A noise had startled her; the front door banging shut. She looked over at her toy, still in the same place, and suddenly felt calmer. Her bedroom door was slightly ajar. The light from the outside hall provided enough glow to see out.
Meagan stepped out of bed, placing her feet on the cold wooden floorboards. As she went out to the hallway, the cold air hit her: a window was open further down the landing.
Meagan listened from the top of the stairs. Total silence. She crept over to her father’s room, tapping the door with her knuckles and waiting for him to tell her to enter. Nothing came.
She edged backwards to her mother’s room. The door was open, the bed empty. Meagan wanted to go downstairs, making up an excuse that she couldn’t sleep, she could hear noises, her tummy hurt. But her father had heard it all, and he’d only send her back to her room.
She went to the open window. The wind howled through the gap, the high-pitched whistle piercing Meagan’s ears. As she reached the glass, she went up on her tiptoes, looking out.
A full moon shone in the sky and sprinkles of tiny stars were dotted everywhere. Meagan thought how wonderful it looked. The field behind their house was black. Dark shadows waved from the trees. Meagan often thought there were people in the hills, calling her to come over and join them.
She stood on the skirting board so she could look out. Suddenly a spotlight came on. She saw a figure walking away from the house, across the back garden and heading towards the fields. Meagan was unsure if it was a person or an animal. As she leaned her face closer to the glass, she could make out the shape of her father. He had something slumped over his shoulder.
Her mother.
Meagan watched in horror, wanting to shout out the window at him to bring her mother back and not leave her alone in the house. She panicked, trying to open the window wider, but the handle was jammed. Meagan forced it upwards and then down. It was no use.
She ran into the bedroom, making sure her bunny was warm, then put on her white slippers and her pink Tom and Jerry dressing gown and went downstairs.
Meagan struggled to push the back door open against the force of the wind. She watched the blades of grass swaying hard in the breeze, small trees with overgrown branches pounding against the side wall.
There was no sign of her father. Meagan walked along the path across the lawn, stepping into the middle of each paving stone, counting them out loud. Reaching the end, she jumped onto the grass bank, forcing herself upwards.
She looked further into the distance. Her father was down by the water, moving across to the caves which were cut into the hill.
Meagan ran towards him, making sure to keep out of sight: she’d be in so much trouble if he saw her. She waited, the wind beating against her face, her body numb with the cold and her bones aching. She watched the cave below, wondering what her parents were doing.
Meagan was shivering, fighting off the cold, stamping her feet. Her teeth began to chatter, vibrating behind her lips, and her mouth was dry with the taste of salt in the air.
In the distance she watched the glare from the lighthouse, wishing she could swim over, stay the night, and keep watch for the ships.
After another couple of minutes, her father resurfaced, coming into view, moving fast. He was on his own.