The Heights: A dark story of obsession and revenge. Juliet Bell

greatest housekeeper, but she was better than that.

      ‘Mum?’ he called. ‘You there?’

      When there was still no answer, he walked into the room and looked around. It was empty. The door of the tatty wooden wardrobe was open, and it was empty. It wasn’t just that his mother wasn’t there; none of her stuff was either. A few wire hangers hung from the rail. Most of the drawers were open too, with nothing inside. Mick swallowed hard. Had they been robbed? Even as he thought it, he knew it didn’t make sense. Burglars didn’t carefully select women’s clothes and leave everything else behind.

      He saw something he recognised in an otherwise empty drawer. He pulled it out. It was a scarf – the one he had given his mother for Christmas a couple of years ago. He had saved for weeks to get it for her, and she’d said she loved it. It was bright-red and she’d smiled when she opened the gift, saying it made the place more cheerful.

      She was gone. Mick knew it. She’d left him. And she had left his scarf behind.

      Clutching the scarf, he left the room and headed into his own bedroom. He wasn’t going to cry. He started to shove the scarf into his bottom drawer, the place where he hid his fags and the dirty magazines Davo stole off his dad. As he did, he happened to glance at the small bundle of belongings on the truckle bed. In the corner of the room. Bloody Heathcliff. Everything had gone to shit since that brat arrived. His mum and dad had barely spoken to each other, and now she was gone. And she’d left Mick behind… Biting back the lump in his throat, he grabbed the sorry bundle of clothes and opened the door. There was no way that little shit was going to sleep here any more. Not after driving his mother away.

      He flung Heathcliff’s belongings into the small recessed corner at the top of the stairs. The bed followed. Then Mick walked back into his room and slammed the door. Hard.

      ‘We’re going to be in trouble,’ Heathcliff declared as they walked back down the path from the blue hills.

      ‘Nah,’ Cathy said. ‘There’s more trouble down the pit. Always is. Dad spends more time there than at home. And Mum doesn’t care any more. She won’t say anything. She’ll just make us do what the nurse said.’

      ‘Were they always like that?’

      Cathy bit her lips as she tried to remember. There must have been some better times. Maybe before things went bad at the mine. And in the house. She seemed to remember hearing her parents laugh. But not recently.

      ‘I guess…’ she said hesitantly. ‘What about yours?’

      ‘There was only ever me and me mam,’ Heathcliff said. ‘And she never laughed much.’

      They reached the fence behind their house, and slipped through the back gate. The first thing Cathy saw was Mick, standing in the yard, a fag dangling from his fingers. It was too late to avoid him. Mick’s arm shot out and grabbed Heathcliff. Cathy dropped her bag to pull Heathcliff out of her brother’s grasp. Her school stuff tumbled across the yard. Mick bent down and picked up the bottle. ‘What’s this?’

      Cathy folded her arms across her body. ‘It’s nit stuff,’ she mumbled. ‘We’ve got to put in in our hair. All of us.’

      ‘Nits? That filthy gyppo brat’s got nits? Get him away from me.’ He shoved Heathcliff so hard, he almost fell over.

      ‘Stop it!’ Cathy jumped between them. ‘It’s me that’s got the nits, not him. Leave him alone.’

      Mick stepped away. ‘Well, I ain’t gonna put that stuff in my hair. It stinks.’

      ‘You have to,’ Cathy said. ‘The nurse said so. Mum’ll make you do it.’

      ‘No, she won’t. She won’t make me do anything ever again.’ Mick spun away, kicked open the gate and walked out.

      Cathy frowned. What did he mean by that? She looked towards the house. There was no light in the kitchen. Her mum should be cooking dinner by now. There was a light upstairs in Mick’s room, but it was the only one.

      She was a little bit scared as she opened the back door.

      The house was in total silence. She turned on the kitchen light and almost screamed when she saw her father sitting at the table. There was a beer can in his hand and two others lay on the table. That was wrong too. Her dad only ever drank one beer each night.

      ‘Dad?’

      He looked up at her, and blinked a few times, as if he was struggling to remember who she was.

      ‘Ah. Cathy.’ His eyes moved past her. ‘And Heathcliff too. Um…’

      Cathy glanced sideways at Heathcliff. He looked as frightened as she felt. She darted forward to stand at her father’s knee.

      ‘Daddy?’ she asked in a tiny, tiny voice.

      ‘Are you hungry, sweetheart?’ he asked. ‘I guess you both must be. I don’t think… I sent Mick here to ask your mum to get some food together. But he didn’t come back. I thought… But when I got here…’

      ‘Where’s Mummy?’

      Her father put a hand on her head to comfort her, but it slipped away as if he didn’t have the strength to hold it there.

      ‘Your mother’s gone, Cathy.’

      Cathy frowned. ‘What do you mean gone?’

      ‘She’s left. Gone away to live with someone… somewhere else.’

      ‘But she can’t just leave. She’s got to put stuff in our hair. Hers too. We’ve got to do what the nit nurse said.’ She was close to tears.

      Her father shook his head slowly, as if he hadn’t really heard her. ‘It’s just us now.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘Cathy, you’re the woman of the house now. You have to do what’s needed. For all of us. You and me. Heathcliff too.’ He didn’t ruffle the boy’s hair, but he did try to smile at him.

      ‘And Mick too?’ Cathy said slowly.

      ‘Yes. Mick too.’ Her father didn’t sound so sure. ‘We’ll be fine, just us,’ he said. ‘Now, I need you to give me a few minutes, then we’ll think about dinner. Maybe get some fish and chips. Give me a few minutes…’

      They left him there, sitting in the kitchen, which now seemed even emptier than before. Cathy didn’t think there would be any fish and chips. But that was all right. She had some chocolate bars stashed in her room.

      At the top of the stairs, she was stopped by the sight of Heathcliff’s things, heaped at the back of the landing.

      They stood side by side and stared for a few seconds.

      ‘I guess Mick won’t let me sleep in his room any more,’ Heathcliff said.

      ‘You can sleep in my room,’ Cathy declared.

      ‘Your dad won’t let me.’

      ‘He doesn’t have to know. Come on.’

      Under Cathy’s direction, they set up the camp bed in the small space at the back of the landing. They put Heathcliff’s clothes in the bag he’d had with him the day he arrived and slid that under the bed.

      ‘See. Dad will think you’re sleeping there. Now, come with me,’

      She took Heathcliff’s hand and led him through into her room. They sat on the bed together, while she doled out a supper of Mars bars. They didn’t say much, but when they had finished eating, they lay down side by side on the bed. Cathy’s hand found Heathcliff’s and their fingers entwined.

      ‘Everything will be all right,’ she said in a firm voice that might make it true. ‘Nothing will hurt us as long as we’re together.’

Chapter Six

      2008

      Even