The Moors: Some secrets are better left buried (7 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN
Left Behind
Thursday 10
th
– Sunday 13
th
February, 1972

Telling Amanda he loved her had not gone according to plan.

Tony sank the remnants of a second bottle of red wine, deciding that was probably enough for the evening. He rinsed out his glass in his new state-of-the-art kitchen. Bright green and orange tiles surrounded him – purposefully chosen colours selected in the belief their vibrancy would help keep him in good spirits.

On that particular day, it wasn’t working.

He stumbled around his dimly lit house, casting his eye over all the things that lay around him. For the previous two years he’d allocated a quarter of his salary to improving the home. He’d bought the perfect leather chair to help him work at the desk in his study, a bespoke modern bookshelf was filled with his favourite works of fiction, the entire easterly wall of his house was made up of glass, a well-researched collection of foreign plants added something exotic to every room and inspirational pieces of modern art were strategically placed around the home to keep him mentally stimulated at all times. He’d even recently painted a rather striking two-tone stripe that lay horizontally across the middle of every supporting wall in the house. One stripe was chocolate brown and the other bright orange. Bright orange – the colour of the Dutch football kit – was his favourite colour. You could tell this immediately by visiting his home and stepping into his garage where the most recent of his extravagant purchases – a Volkswagen Beetle – sat safely polished, waiting keenly to be used.

Tony had worked hard to support his frivolous lifestyle. He hadn’t realised it until now, but the thrill of buying such new-fangled things and subsequently becoming the centre of attention had become something of an addiction for him. Upon wondering why, he concluded that the feeling of importance it gave him successfully masked the fact he lived something of a lonely life. He was handsome and endlessly charming, able to hold the attention of any room – be it at work or in a more playful setting. In fact, so charming was he that he was never perceived as a show-off. People just gravitated towards him and quickly warmed to his charismatic nature. They trusted his endearing smile. He was interesting and, when he wasn’t talking, he was listening intently. Not everybody could do both, so people loved him for it.

In the cold light of day, though, what did he really have?

The more he thought about it, the more he realised nothing had enriched his life in the same way Amanda did. Everything he owned was worthless without her. Even the great pride he took in becoming the Senior Editor at
The Times
, one of the biggest newspapers in the world, was only thought of with such fond nostalgia because it was the job that had brought him and Amanda together.

  ‘I love you more than anything in the world,’ he had said. ‘And I’m ready to start a family.’

As he relived the speech he’d delivered so brazenly – speaking as though Amanda should drop to her knees in gratitude and look up to him in awe – he could only cringe. How smug and arrogant he must have appeared to her, the one woman whose strength and integrity he truly admired. She was disappointed in him. He could see it in her eyes, and as she thought of a way to escape his overbearing grip on her, he became immediately regretful of the way he had approached the proposal. His only saving grace was that, until that moment, he had never acted in such a presumptuous way.

The thing that made Tony such a good editor was that he could always find truth, be it through a person’s dialogue or through the way they acted. Like a seasoned detective, he could read a person’s body language, finding information in the silences as well as through their words. He had an almost scientific understanding of the things people did when telling a lie and when Amanda had cut their evening short by claiming she was tired, he knew it was because she simply needed to be away from him.

Among his many sexual conquests, he had notched quite a few interns down the years as he made his way up the journalistic ladder, but he had always maintained a strict rule against sleeping with permanent colleagues. It was never a good idea to mix business with pleasure. He was an intelligent man and knew relationships were hard enough even when one only saw their partner after work during the least stressful hours of their day, so courting somebody within the office never seemed a smart thing to do.

Amanda, though, was the kind of character that tended to alter opinions. Often, men within the editor’s office would scoff at the idea of female journalists and reporters. “The industry’s too competitive!” misogynistic writers would say. “They wouldn’t be able to keep up,” claimed others. “Women are too bitchy,” “…over-emotional” and “…lazy,” made up a list of further common assumptions. Although Tony was more progressive than most, he had seen very little evidence during his career to counter such sexist claims. Ordinarily, during Tony’s time at the paper, women only applied for secretarial roles and so when Amanda put herself forward for a job as junior content writer, he was only too happy to meet her. Being that he was a fair man who judged people on individual merit, he found the idea of female writers a refreshing one and believed it would help bring some much needed balance to his news team.

From the moment Tony entered the reception area to greet Amanda for her interview he was absolutely taken by her beauty. When she spoke, he used his powers of observation to discover the things most others would fail to detect. She was intelligent, that was undeniable. It couldn’t be missed as it was the persona she wanted people to see, but Tony sensed it was mainly a mask behind which she could hide. Deep down, she was vulnerable, something she buried through assertion, and the authority with which she spoke only served to disguise her need for guidance. She was hurting; quite why wasn’t so clear, but this hurt was the reason she had become so driven. Tony read her as clear as day and didn’t hesitate in giving her the job. He knew he had feelings for her ever since that first encounter, so his intention was to keep her at a distance in the workplace. He treated Amanda with respect and admired her as a professional, and such was the quality of her work that she gave him no choice but to promote her, meaning they began working together more closely. As time went by, it became clear his feelings were reciprocated. It was such a thing of beauty to fall in love with someone so similar, and their mutual resistance inevitably gave way.

The first kiss they shared – late at night when, as usual, they were the only people left in the office – moved the earth beneath their feet. These two tortured souls who genuinely believed they were alone in the world had found their counter point and suddenly, together, they contemplated the possibility of sharing their lives with another.

These were the memories that deepened his unrest.

I’ll sleep on it
. He thought.
I can turn things around in the morning when she calls from Devon
.

The morning soon came and Tony sat anxiously by the phone in his office. The red wine had given him a throbbing headache, his eyes were bloodshot and his skin was pale. He was unable to even contemplate breakfast and focusing on work was impossible as his attentions continued to drift back to the silent handset that lay on his desk. When it eventually rang, he couldn’t answer quickly enough.

‘Hey!’ he said, softly, holding back the reservoir of words that were fighting to pass through his lips. ‘How was the journey?’ was the combination he eventually chose.

‘It was okay,’ Amanda replied, sounding dejected.

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. He was worried. Was it a bad journey or was her tone more a reflection on how she felt towards him?

‘The train pulled in early if you can believe… shit!’ she cussed.

She was clearly irritable. Tony knew this only happened when she was experiencing particularly bad period pains or if she was incredibly pissed off with someone, which wasn’t very often.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, secretly terrified of what she might say.

The phone crackled as he spoke.

‘What?’ barked Amanda, sounding even more agitated.

‘What’s wrong?’ he repeated.

She fell silent. Tony closed his eyes and lowered his head, feeling certain the next words out of her mouth would be along the lines of ‘
Listen,
I’ve been thinking, and maybe we should give each other a little space
.’

‘Sorry. The line’s pretty bad,’ she eventually replied. ‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,’ she insisted, but Tony knew her better than anyone, and he knew this was a lie.

He fell silent. He thought hard but didn’t know what else to say. It was the only time he could recall there being an awkward silence between them. He feared it represented the end of their relationship.

‘I wish I could believe it,’ said Tony.

‘Fine! Everything. Everything’s wrong!’ she snapped. ‘Tony, I…’

‘Hey! It’s okay. We’ll be okay,’ he insisted.

Now, it was his turn to lie. The truth was, he didn’t know they would be okay at all, but he did know that as long as there was a fighting chance, he would never give up on what they had. This
was
the woman he wanted to marry. She
was
the one he wanted to start a family with. He would never force the issue again but that didn’t change the fact it was true and he knew that as long as they were together, he would be happy. He leaned forward and used all of his might to sound optimistic and relaxed as he spoke.

‘You’ll be back in three days,’ Tony reminded her. ‘We can talk then. Okay?’

‘I guess,’ she huffed.

He convinced himself he shouldn’t read too much into her deflated voice as she may very well have felt the same as him. Therefore, he picked it up another level.

‘And that’s
three
days. You’ll be back here on Sunday as agreed. Okay?’ instructed Tony.

‘Yeah,’ she accepted, softly.

‘Because I know what you’re like when you get your teeth into something and if you try to go back on your word, I’ll come down there and pull you out myself!’ he continued.

‘Yes, boss! Message received,’ she replied, playfully.

He could picture her smile.

The relief was overwhelming.

Maybe all was not yet lost.

‘I do love you,’ he said.

‘You too,’ she replied, driving Tony to secret tears.

That was Friday, and the way the conversation ended meant he did manage to get his work done, after all. However, the rest of Friday past, as did Saturday, without the hint of a whisper. Then, on Sunday, at the same time, on the same desk, Tony sat staring at his phone, reliving the emotions all over again. The morning had been tense and, perhaps wrongfully, he skipped his lunch. The afternoon crept by at an abnormally slow pace and every time he checked his watch it felt as though time had stood still, but eventually, in the early stage of the evening, the call he had been waiting for finally came through.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Seldom Late
Sunday 13
th
February, 1972

It was 05:50 and Margaret would be in to wake Amanda at any moment, but there was no need. She’d barely slept a wink all night. She’d apologised to Margaret, Walter and Karen, who all appeared with haste upon hearing her screams on the first floor landing. The best excuse she could muster was that she thought she’d heard one of the children stirring after visiting the kitchen to get some water, at which point she completely overreacted to a nearby shadow. If the words had come from Amanda Connors, she would have felt embarrassed, but Amanda Green was quite comfortable disclosing such details. The explanation seemed to satisfy them. All except Karen, at least, who Amanda always felt was watching her with suspicion.

The incident scuppered Amanda’s desire to return to the attic doorway as being caught there twice in one night would have been far too revealing. In truth, though, there were two matters that had become more pressing. The first was the identity of the ghastly creature that watched Amanda through the window. She was short-sighted and the hallway was dark, but she knew she saw
something
. Being that she was so tired, she felt a little paranoid and chose not to mention the sighting to the other residents. In any case, something told her they were all too aware of what lay outside on the moors. Indeed, if they did know about such a grisly beast occupying the land, Christian’s late-night hunting ventures suddenly made a lot more sense.

The second pressing matter was that ever since Amanda first bled at the age of thirteen, her menstrual cycle ran like clockwork – always on a Saturday, every four weeks. She had spent much of her adolescence marvelling at how her body operated so reliably and efficiently and not once had her cycle changed, until that very day.

She lay in bed and thought of what it would mean to be pregnant. How odd the timing would be given that Tony had just been so forward in telling her of his desire to start a family. For hours, Amanda had been running through her list of reasons as to why the news would be a catastrophe, but after viewing each of her concerns objectively, she found there were surprisingly few things that caused her to worry.

She lifted the covers and peered down to her stomach. It didn’t look particularly different. She didn’t really
feel
any different, although she remembered how peculiar she had felt when watching Gordon sleep and wondered if it was Mother Nature’s way of preparing her for things to come.

‘
I love you more than anything in the world. And I’m ready to start a family
.’ That’s what Tony had told her the night before she left London. He had even gone to the trouble of booking the nicest table at her favourite restaurant – a quaint little family-run eatery down St. Martin’s Lane in Soho, which served the finest Italian food she had ever encountered. Tony’s words had surprised her. She had a naive assumption that as Tony was so similar to her he would be happy to keep plodding along without the need for such a major commitment. As she looked back, she was ashamed to admit that his outpour of emotions had made her feel suffocated. Ever since that night, she had been haunted by her reaction. He said such lovely things and she responded by running away.

How could she do that to the man she so loved?

She recalled Margaret’s description of meeting her husband. She remembered the fondness in her face when she said ‘
He was a fool! But he was my fool
.’ Tony would have undoubtedly felt foolish as he mumbled descriptions of his feelings - such foreign words to his tongue – in the restaurant. At the time, the words seemed so threatening, but as Amanda looked back they were utterly endearing.

I’ve found my fool!
She thought, and as she placed her hands on her belly, inexplicable warmth radiated from inside her and consumed her entire body. The insatiable quest to ensure children were kept safe and that the sanctity of family was preserved lay at her very fingertips, and against all odds, she was to be the head of that family.

With a gentle wrap at the door, Margaret poked her head inside.

‘Amanda. Time to wake up, my love,’ she sang once more.

‘I’m awake,’ replied Amanda, joyfully, smiling in mellow bliss.

*

Within Christian’s office, the telephone rang. It was loud and its shrill could be heard out in the hall, prompting Karen to march towards the door and unlock it with haste, her bony hand picking up the receiver.

‘Yes?’ she said, in an unfriendly, unapologetic voice.

It was hardly a surprise when nobody answered. The line, however, remained live, as though somebody were on the other end, listening with intent.

‘Hello? Hello?’ Karen hissed, deeply exasperated, before slamming the phone down.

Karen took a moment to collect her thoughts before leaving the room with purpose, locking the door behind her, as she always did. She stormed outside and headed directly towards Christian, who pulled a cloth from a large bucket of soapy water and slapped it against his filthy jeep.

‘It happened again,’ spat Karen, expressing her concern.

‘What did?’ he asked, casually.

‘The phone calls,’ she said, as though he should have known what she was talking about.

‘I told you, you’re reading too much into it,’ insisted Christian as he washed the grime away with small circular movements, taking great care of his vehicle.

*
 

Across the lawn, Amanda sat reading the morning papers with Walter, having plucked
The Times
from his grasp. Reading her colleagues’ work somehow made her feel close to Tony as she fondly envisaged what squabbles would have taken place in the office since her departure.

After a quick scan of the headlines, she returned it to Walter. Her attention then drifted to the local papers, where more articles had been published regarding the Exmoor beast.

I wonder…
She thought, connecting the stories to the inexplicable sighting she had the previous evening, but the fantasy of having encountered the legendary being was distracted by the intensity with which Karen spoke to Christian in the car park. They were just about within earshot but Amanda had to read their body language for most of the exchange.

‘
I’m telling you, it’s her!
’ she believed Karen said, before Christian shrugged and Karen said something about ‘…
a feeling
,’ to which Christian seemed to quip ‘
I didn’t think you had any feelings
.’

At that, Karen spun on her heels and stropped back into the house.

‘It was a joke!’ Christian added, audibly and somewhat cheekily, but it was too late. She was gone.

His indifference to Karen’s mood swings was something Amanda found thoroughly amusing, but she didn’t give herself long to enjoy the moment, for she sensed an opportunity.

‘Cup of tea, Walt?’ she asked, as she pushed herself to her feet.

‘M-m?’

‘Cup of tea?’ she repeated.

‘Oh! No. Thank you,’ he dismissed; the perfect answer as all Amanda really wanted was to head back towards the house.

She moved unnoticed past Christian, who was gradually restoring his vehicle’s shine. It was a top of the line Wagoneer and judging by the delicate way he touched the vehicle, it was incredibly dear to him. Amanda quietly opened the front door and entered the house. She followed the sound of movement and ducked into the drawing room as Karen led the children down the staircase to the toy cupboard. Inside were a host of communal toys such as baby dolls, skipping ropes, marbles, conkers, chalk, crayons, the chess board, various other wooden playing boards with sets of balls and a bright red fire engine. Karen pulled on a chord and a naked light bulb sparked to life.

‘Reuben,’ said Karen, summoning him forward and allowing him to enter the cupboard to select a toy. He opted for the fire engine and walked back out in excitement.

‘Gordon,’ she said, like a militant leader commanding her troops.

‘I wanna play chess with Georgina,’ he declared, which came as no surprise.

‘Not today. Pick something else,’ she instructed.

‘Chess. Yah. I definitely wanna play chess,’ he repeated.

She lowered her body and spoke slowly, her inner venom working its way through the throbbing veins that appeared on her pale neck.

‘Choose-something-else!’ she snarled.

‘Yah,’ said Gordon, stepping into the room and looking around. Again, his head only seemed to shift between two key positions, but something about his manner suggested he was absorbing all of the information around him.

‘Yah,’ he considered. ‘Yah. Okay. I wanna play follows.’

Knowing Karen would be occupied for a while, Amanda finally had the perfect opportunity to spend a little time alone with Christian – something that had seemed surprisingly difficult throughout her stay. Never did she feel more alive than when she was playing detective and the adrenalin overtook the emotions she felt regarding her potential pregnancy.

By the time she walked back outside, the top half of Christian’s body had disappeared under his jeep and a set of tools had been placed next to his water bucket.

That’s a mighty thorough clean!
thought Amanda.

‘I just bumped into Karen,’ she said, winning his attention.

Christian pulled himself out into view and looked up at her.

‘Don’t worry. It happens to us all!’ he jested.

He was never too busy to fire a flirtatious smile her way, something she had played up to since their first encounter.

‘Seemed like she was on the warpath about something,’ prodded Amanda in an initial attempt to goad information from him.

‘She’ll be okay,’ he replied.

Amanda nodded.

H-m… maybe a change of tactic
.

‘Your jeep’s in quite a state. You do some damage to it?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. The dirt tracks around here are crazy,’ he replied, grabbing hold of a spanner before disappearing under the vehicle again.

‘Did I hear you go out last night?’ she ventured.

She noticed his body become still for a moment.

‘Yeah. I tried to leave quietly,’ he assured her.

Didn’t you just?
She wanted to say, in relation to the fact he’d let his car coast down most of the hill in darkness. It was, however, feasible that his actions were simply an act of courtesy.

‘Oh! It’s okay. It was late, though,’ she remarked.

‘I have trouble sleeping. Sometimes a drive helps.’

Oh really? In your hunting gear?

‘Like insomnia?’ asked Amanda.

‘Exactly!’ said Christian, who slid back out from under the jeep to grab hold of his jack. He placed the device on the ground next to the back wheel and, for the first time, he seemed to be avoiding eye contact.

‘Did it start when your wife died?’

‘You ask a lot of questions,’ he said, in a way that insinuated he wanted no more.

‘I know. Forgive me, it’s just… I’d like to know more about you. Not that I have a right to or anything. I mean, you can tell me to get lost or whatev—’

‘Without my wife, my dreams are over,’ he blurted, in a moment of honesty that took them both by surprise.

Amanda fell silent as Christian used a cloth to wipe smudges of oil from his arms and hands. His face was a picture of distant regret.

‘And without dreams, I guess there’s no need to sleep, right?’ he continued, his eyes beginning to water. 

She stepped towards him. Ever so subtly, he recoiled. It was enough to let her know he didn’t wish to be held, yet he still seemed receptive to her sympathies.

‘Hey! It’s okay,’ said Amanda, softly. ‘I know how it feels to lose someone.’

*
 

Back across the yard, Georgina and Gordon had angled a large plank of wood from the bench to the ground and were playing fondly under Karen’s supervision, whose face seemed likely to cave at the sight of the children’s joy.

‘Roll the boss, Gord,’ prompted Georgina.

‘Yah!’

His arm shot out and he rolled an iron ball down the plank, which soon thudded onto the ground.

‘Where is it?’ asked Georgina.

‘Down the bottom. To the left,’ he informed her.

‘The left?’

‘Yah. On the left. Down the bottom. You go first. Sunday 13
th
February, 1972. Georgina’s go. Knuckle-down.’

Georgina, armed with a dusty white ball, prepared to roll it down the plank – the object of the game being to get the most number of balls closest to the “boss” ball after each player had rolled three times.

Karen’s scowl worsened as she nudged Walter. He looked up from his paper and she nodded towards the car park, where Amanda and Christian were locked in a tender embrace. It was an image that made Karen’s blood boil. Whatever Amanda’s reasons for getting close to Christian, she was enraging the most ruthless of enemies.