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

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      ‘It might last a few weeks,’ he said. ‘So we all have to pitch in and make ends meet. No more beer and fags, Mick – all your dole money goes to the house.’

      ‘I want to join the picket,’ Mick said.

      ‘You’re not a miner.’

      ‘No, but I want to join the picket. That guy on the radio said even women were expected to join this. I won’t be left out of the fight. You’re gonna need all the help you can get.’

      Ray didn’t like it, but Mick was right. He looked at the boy he had raised as his son, and for the first time thought that maybe there was something of him in Mick after all. If he was willing to stick up for his mates.

      ‘All right. But be careful. They’re going to bus police in here as well as lads for the picket. I don’t want you getting involved in anything violent, you understand.’

      ‘Yes, Dad.’

      And as for the two of you…’ Ray turned towards Cathy and Heathcliff, who, as always, were standing so close together they might have been Siamese twins. ‘You two keep going to school. Cathy, you look after the house the way you have been since your mum left. And I don’t want social services on my case because you’ve been bunking off. Understand?’

      ‘Yes, Dad,’ Cathy said meekly. Heathcliff as usual said nothing. But Ray knew he would follow where Cathy led.

      Ray relented and reached out to pull his daughter close for a hug. ‘Ah, you’re a good girl, Cathy. Hopefully this strike will be over in a couple of weeks and we can all get back to normal.’

      ‘Look, Heathcliff. A kestrel.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘It went… No. There. Above those rocks.’ Cathy pointed. ‘See it?’

      ‘Yeah.’

      Cathy leaned forward from her place on the high, rocky outcrop, as if she was about to launch herself into the air. ‘I wish I could fly, Heathcliff. Just like that falcon.’

      ‘And if you could fly?’

      ‘I’d fly away from this place and never come back.’

      Cathy felt his body shift, as he moved away from her. She dragged her eyes away from the bird to look at the youth sitting next to her. His face was a black mask.

      ‘You’d leave me behind. Stuck here.’ His voice had turned all pouty.

      She knew that black look. And she knew how to fix it. ‘No, of course not. You’re my brother. If I was a falcon you’d be a falcon too and we could fly away together.’

      ‘I’m not your brother.’

      ‘No. You’re better than a brother.’

      That seemed to help. He turned back to look for the bird, giving Cathy a good look at the bruise on the side of his face. It was much darker than it had been when she first saw it last night. She reached out her hand and touched Heathcliff’s cheek ever so softly. He didn’t flinch away.

      ‘Why didn’t you tell Dad that Mick did this?’ she asked.

      ‘What good would that do? He’d only give me another hiding for ratting on him.’

      That was true. And their father wouldn’t help. He didn’t care about anything except the strike. And now Mick was on the picket with the rest of the old men, their dad was more inclined to take his word over Cathy’s.

      ‘Look at that!’ Heathcliff drew her attention back to the bird. ‘He’s spotted something. A rabbit maybe.’

      The kestrel was hovering not far away from them. Cathy could see that the bird had its eyes fixed on the ground. Suddenly it dropped like a stone, its wings folded tight against its body until the last moment, before it crashed to earth. A moment later the bird rose from the long grass, and she could see it held something in its talons.

      ‘That’s what I’d do if I could,’ Heathcliff said, so quietly she could hardly hear him. ‘I’d teach Mick. I’d teach all of them.’

      Cathy could hear the anger and pain in him as he spoke. She felt it too, whenever Mick hit Heathcliff. Or when one of the kids at school picked a fight with him. She reached out to take his hand.

      ‘Come on. I’ve got an idea.’

      ‘What?’ he asked, but he got to his feet to follow her.

      ‘Let’s go down to the Grange and pick some apples.’

      They set off across the hills. Cathy kept hold of Heathcliff’s hand. She liked holding his hand. Some of the girls at school held hands with boys, but this was different. The other girls thought it was fun and they giggled about it a lot. Holding hands with Heathcliff wasn’t fun. Or something to giggle about. It was just… just what they did. Had always done. Would always do.

      They reached the edge of the blue hills and, still holding hands, ran down the last slope towards the road. As they did, a car came into view.

      ‘Shit,’ Heathcliff said as he pulled her to a stop. But it was too late. The driver of the car had already seen them. It pulled over to the hard shoulder and a woman got out.

      ‘Catherine Earnshaw. Heathcliff. Come here.’

      Cathy reluctantly let go of Heathcliff’s hand. It was that woman. The social worker with the stringy hair.

      ‘Why aren’t you two at school?’ the woman demanded in her high, raspy voice.

      ‘We weren’t doing nothing,’ Heathcliff said sullenly, kicking the toe of his shoe into the road.

      ‘Really?’ The social worker sighed and turned to Cathy. ‘What about you, madam? Have you got an excuse?’

      Cathy tried to straighten her skirt and blouse. They were covered with mud and grass stains. Her shoes were wet. It suddenly occurred to her that she was cold. She was never cold when she was up on the hills with Heathcliff. But when she came down – that’s when the coldness set in. She shrugged.

      ‘I ought to take you both to the headmaster’s office right now.’

      Cathy’s heart sank. A visit to the headmaster would mean getting her dad involved, and then there’d be shouting and Mick looking all pleased with himself because her and Heathcliff were getting a bollocking. She forced a meek smile onto her face. ‘Been to doctor’s. Dad’s on the picket so he said we should go together. Doesn’t like us wandering round on our own.’

      The woman glanced up in the direction of the blue hills. ‘You’ve come from the doctor?’

      ‘Yeah.’

      The woman checked the watch on her wrist and sighed. ‘I want both of you back in school. Right away. And I’ll check, so no skiving off again.’

      Cathy nodded quickly. She arranged her face into the same look she gave her dad when she was trying to get money off him for sweets. Not that there was money for sweets since the strike started.

      ‘All right then. Now go. Both of you.’ The woman jumped back into her car and drove away.

      ‘I’m not going to school,’ Heathcliff announced.

      ‘Course we’re not. Come on.’ She took his hand and a few seconds later they had crossed the road and were running through the heather.

      They stopped running when they reached a tall hedge.

      ‘This way. There’s a gap.’ Cathy pulled Heathcliff after her. She stopped and peered through the hedge before finally letting go of Heathcliff’s hand to push her way through the hole. He followed.

      They were standing in an orchard. The apple trees were old and twisted and wild. Others, it seemed, knew about the hole in the hedge, because much of the fruit had already been pulled from the trees. The lowers branches