5. Hike up the Hill.
The sky is dimming out into a muddy and silent dusk. I slip a note on my bedroom door saying that I need an early night and don't want to be disturbed, then it's the window for me. I climb down the drainpipe and jump the last few feet, landing with a heavy scuff. Hacking out some built up phlegm I compose myself, stand up straight and shove my hands deep into my coat pockets. Warm orange light spills in pools across the driveway. I glance back at the house and those gaudy curtains and the yellow paint. Then turn my shoulder to it and walk away.
Dusk is a good time to take a stroll. Maybe something might crawl out the shadows and throw a jigsaw puzzle right in my lap. That's what happened yesterday at about this time. I could do with more clues, more pieces. My footsteps click with an even beat. There is no other sound. No fog or movement in the shadows. I have a feeling that tonight the heat is off me, and on someone else. Can't say I'm not glad about that, but I'm never going to make progress if I don't sniff at some doors, make something happen.
After Chloe left my room I did some thinking about that lost year and the things about it that have managed to stay with me. I made a list of all the noteworthy events of that year. My list is short. Pretty much the only useful thing on it is Will Clarke. I don't remember the kid really, but I remember that he went missing. There was a lot of hot air about it at the time. Kids don't vanish from Stokely, not back then they didn't. He was never found. So I did a search on the internet and then the phone book for a Clarke. That was what has led my pins to this street I am now walking down. I come to a stop and look up at the house ahead of me. It's a clone of my own, minus the yellow paint and gaudy curtains. I inhale a sharp breath and clench my fists into a ball before taking a step onto their path. My knuckles rap loudly on the door. I wait a while, shifting my weight from the balls of my feet to the heels. Just as I'm about to knock again I hear the lock click back and the door creak open a crack.
"Who's there?" a quiet, scared voice drifts out.
"Hello there, sir. My name's Robin Branagh, I live a few streets away," I say in my lightest, most polite voice.
"Graham's youngest boy?"
"That's right, yes."
The door opens further and he steps aside to let me in. "Come on in then boy, it's not safe out after dark."
"Thanks," I mutter, waiting for him to shut the door and lead me wherever.
"So to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks as he goes down the corridor and into the nearest door. It leads through to a drab looking living room. I take a pew on a green worn out sofa. "Want a tea?"
"No thanks."
"Anything at all to drink?"
"Water's good," I say. He nods and says he'll back in a moment and to sit tight. I stay here a while and then get to my feet and walk across to the mantelpiece above the fake fire. There are pictures in silver frames. Will is smiling out of them. I sigh and rove my eyes around the place, picking out the dusty ornaments, the cheap paintings hung on the walls. I find nothing interesting. Nothing sparks off inside my head, so I walk back to the sofa and sink back into it. Right about then Mr Clarke returns with a glass of water for me and a cup of something hot for him. I take the glass and thank him.
"I'm sorry to ask something so personal, but I wanted to know about Will." I watch his expressions turn white and wait while he gulps down and steadies himself, lowering himself into a green armchair.
"Okay…" he says with a voice that means it's probably not okay, but I'm here now. "What do you want to know?"
"Well firstly, did he ever show up?" I can tell right away that the answer is no. I can read it in the lines in his face.
"We still hope he'll make an appearance…"
"Can you think of any reason that he might have run away?" I ask. He shuffles a little in his seat and looks off, before turning his eyes back to me.
"Not really. He was happy. Very happy. He'd got himself a girlfriend you see and was very excited about it. The last we saw him was just before he went on a date with her. To the cinema." I ask him what the name of Will's girlfriend was. "Ingrid Count. Vlad's older sister."
I blink and part my lips. The same names keep on coming up.
"I had the impression that you were friendly with her brother, at least that seemed to be the case a while back."
I shake my head. "Not that I remember, no."
"Well that time is hazy for me. What with Will disappearing, I didn't pay all that much attention to what was going on around Stokely. I must have been mistaking you for another boy." That is perfectly possible so I don't let it bother me.
"So what happened with Ingrid?" He shuffles in his seat and puffs out his cheeks.
"At first she seemed oddly unconcerned. But later on her indifference turned around. She went completely crazy. I went up to the castle. She wouldn't let me in and she wouldn't come out to talk to me. I can't remember the things she said, but she was not being at all coherent. To be honest she was scaring me a little. So I left. I tried to talk with her father a small while later, but all he told me was that Ingrid had taken Will's disappearance rather badly and it was best that she and the family were left alone. That's the last I saw of them. I have felt compelled to stay clear of that castle ever since. I don't think they even live there anymore." I lick my lips and nod.
"Well thanks then, Mr Clarke. You've been a great help to me. I'd better get off home before it gets too late," I say as I get to my feet, placing the glass of untouched water on the coffee table.
"Why did you want to know? Have you found any clues as to where Will might have gone?" his eyes are light, holding pent-up excitement within them. It feels bad to crush his excitement.
"No. I'm sorry. It's a personal matter. I lost some of my memory a few years ago and I'm trying to dig around, find out what's what. There was a hole where Will was concerned, and now you've filled it and I am very grateful to you for it." His eyes dim once more and he sinks back deeply into the armchair. "I'll let myself out."
"Sure," he mutters, flicking his wrist in a lazy farewell gesture.
"Thanks again, Mr Clarke. See you around."
As I walk back homewards my eyes get distracted by something up on the hill. The castle is lit up like a church on Easter Sunday. Not only that, there are also colourful lights breaking out through the windows, spilling into the darkness. Flashing and switching to a beat that I can just about hear above the soft sounds of distant traffic. I stop outside my house, hands buried deep in my pockets and shoulders rounded. I flick my eyes from the yellow house to the castle and back again. My watch reads 9:14pm. I flare out my nostrils, steel myself and then hike up the hill.
The next chapter will be up fairly soon. There's more going on in the next few chapters compared to 4 and 5. Apologies if chapter 4 & 5 were slower paced. I wanted to make this open to all to read, including people who've never watched YD, so that meant some background was needed.
Reviews help me get over my crippling lack of confidence. They also help me to improve. So you can tell me if you read it and didn't like it, because that will help me get better. Thank you so much you lovely people.