Daisy
I’m walking along a long, deserted beach at Broad Haven, that to those who are unfamiliar with this particular part of Wales is along the rugged and beautiful coastline of Pembrokeshire. I’m holding hands with my partner Nadia my best friend and lover. We do this every day, together with my dog who is currently annoying crabs in a rock pool. We do this every day, rain or shine. It’s become a way of life and for ex Londoners it was quite a culture shock and something that took a while to get used to. We’re not alone, I’ve just passed my dad Tim’s house, he saw us, came to the door and waved. He is married to Carol. He escaped from the rat race too.
I’d just spoken to a guy called Greg. Paul, a guy I had known through transitioning when I lived in London, had made contact through his sources. Paul had an amazing story to tell but had suggested I contacted a Greg James who could better tell it himself. He was on the road, travelling home and I was expecting his call anytime now.
‘Ever been to Scarborough?’ I asked Nadia.
‘I’ve let my passport lapse.’ She replied.
‘No, you haven’t, you were sunning your backside in Greece last year and we’ve got another holiday booked in Spain – you haven’t really, have you?’ I asked alarmed. Getting passports renewed took for ever and I didn’t want a last-minute panic to arise.
‘Perhaps I should have just said no!’ I was puzzled now; Nadia could be like that.
‘Was that no, you haven’t let it lapse or you don’t know where Scarborough is?’
‘Both!’ I was still none the wiser.
‘You do know where Yorkshire is – yes?’ I went back to basics.
‘I hope so, I was born there.’ I never knew that.
‘Really where in Yorkshire?’ I decided to ask.
‘An enclave of Pakistan called Bradford, or a little way outside.’
‘When did you move to London?’
‘When I was about 3, I don’t remember too much.’ I couldn’t recall too much at that age either. I quickly remembered the rows at home between my parents, well, my nasty evil bitch of a mother anyway!’ I could never forget that. ‘I guess we’d better head back, those clouds don’t look great, we could get soaked and then I’d have the chore of taking all your wet clothes off.’ Nadia bumped into me, a barging movement she did for fun, to get my attention.
‘Sorry, I know I create a lot of extra work for you.’ We turned; I called the dog who was miles away in the distance. He came bounding back just as my phone rang.
‘Hello, Daisy speaking.’ I answered quickly.
‘It’s Greg James, we spoke briefly earlier.’ He replied.
‘Hello Greg James, Paul tells me you have quite a tale to tell.’ I replied.
‘It’s a very serious tale, it’s complex too.’
‘Aren’t all the best tales? That’s my experience anyway, fire away, give me a brief outline at least.’ For the next ten minutes I listened avidly to a chilling story. Unlike so many I’d heard this one was very current and certainly active.
‘So, Sibyl is missing in every respect, her physical remains as well those spiritual. Have you any thoughts where she might be found?’ I asked.
‘My guess is she returned to her house and she’s in there. Poppy could go inside and check but it’s twenty miles away. I sense the police are at the house still searching and the lakes where I just know her body will be is just a few miles away. I haven’t even got a car right now, having just handed mine back.’ Greg replied.
‘It’s probably not wise for you to be seen near the house now but at least once you have your own transportation you won’t have this Clancy arsehole tracking your every move.’ I wasn’t frightened to put my own graphic description to a man who by any measure was beyond evil.
‘I’ll make a few calls, see if I can find a good deal, it’s getting to see the car that is the main challenge.’ He added.
‘Maybe I can help there, that’s if you can wait a few hours.’ I suggested.
‘How, from all accounts you are about as far distance west to east as north to south - John O’Groats to Lands End?’ He made an interesting observation I hadn’t even considered. Broad Haven on the Pembrokeshire coast of Wales to Scarborough was a jaunt.
‘In that case, it’s best we get on the road as soon as possible.’
‘Really, that must be 400 miles, that’s quite a trek.’ Greg starkly described the challenging journey which was a mixture of road systems.
‘382 actually Greg, I’ve already checked from here to Scarborough. Once I get to Swansea, it’s pretty much motorway standard to York and I’ve actually been to Scarborough, so I know the road onwards to there is pretty good too. 7 hours Greg.’
‘You said we, that suggests you won’t be alone.’ He queried. Here was a man who picked up on details. I liked that. It suggested he’d be a good sounding board for challenges to come.
‘I’ll be bringing Nadia; we are joined at the hip. I only found out a few minutes ago she was born in Bradford, not too far from you.’
‘That might present a slight problem?’ He queried.
‘Why?’ My turn to query.
‘I’ve only got one bed.’
‘What are you suggesting Greg. I hardly know you. It is a bit early for a threesome!’
‘Oh god no, I wasn’t suggesting anything untoward!’ I could hear the embarrassment in his voice.
‘Relax, I’m joking, besides even if we did all sleep together nothing remotely like that could ever take place.’ I wondered if he’d cottoned on to Nadia and our sexual preferences. His reply suggested he did.
‘So, you and Nadia…...?’ He left me to join up the dots.
‘Yes Greg, we are a couple. Don’t worry about the sleeping arrangements, we’ll manage.
‘Okay, I’ll expect you when I see you. I live in Wenbury, you’ll know you’re in the right village because when you arrive, everyone will be out on their doorsteps watching and when you head towards Sycamore Cottage, which is the first cottage you see on your right when you enter, they will all go into a frenzy of panic because it’s haunted, apparently! You might even have an audience with Doris the village gossip and soothsayer, and her predictions are usually dire!’ The call ended there; we had continued walking while I was on the phone, and I could see our home just ahead as spots of rain started before what seemed like a likely deluge. We’d just pack a bag of things to last a few days and then; after dropping the dog off at my dad’s, we would get on the road and head east.
We took turns to drive. While motorways were fast and ate the miles, they were boringly monotonous. We drove just 90 miles before our first break which included a trip to the ladies! Refreshed and comfortable in other ways, we ploughed on. I’d taken the first stint, now Nadia had her turn behind the wheel. I loved to look at her. Her delicate Dresden china features enhanced her Asian heritage. I remember how we met, the trauma she suffered in her home life, especially after she was raped on a night out her father, a strict Muslim had predicted would be her fate. I told you so was rammed into her, and she later took her own life. This made returning difficult, and an added complication arose because her own transition back to life, came about by grasping her donor’s hand without consent. That donor, a perfect match as it was her father! Nadia had inadvertently taken her mother’s life too by embracing her, a mother relieved to be gone from a life of violence and drudgery, created by an abusive marriage. Incredibly her mother now lived in the same community as Paul frequented and his story was just as unique as Nadia’s.
We were just past Newport on the M4, we’d soon hit the Almondsbury interchange, where drivers had a choice of straight on towards London, south to Devon and Cornwall or as we were heading North to Birmingham and beyond. There was a remarkable Gloucester services ahead which was far more than somewhere to refuel and stop for refreshments, to rest up. Enterprising locals had created a location which sold local produce and people traveled for miles just for that reason alone. Our need to stop was almost now a minor event. I just hoped we didn’t have to queue or even worse, not get in at all.
We didn’t stay long. Nadia looked tired so rather than sit inside, after our natural break, we took coffee and a baguette back to the car and consumed it there.
‘I feel bushed, I’m glad you’re doing the next part.’ Nadia remarked, we’d finished, and I had just returned from dumping our finished polystyrene cups and plastic wrapping in the waste bin.
‘Close your eyes sweetheart, I love glancing over while you sleep.’ I did, I often grabbed those almost instant snapshots of her sleeping, sometimes, when I could see her deep in thought. Taking my eyes off the road just for the briefest of moments but returning them with that image now embedded in my brain as well as my heart. We hadn’t always been this close. I’d met Nadia cowering in a shop doorway, a ghostly figure I could see while everyone walking past, going about their day-to-day business, could not. She had four violent controlling brothers whom she feared would kill her for dishonouring her family. Her father had entered an agreement for her to marry a man she’d never met. Money and property carried more weight than love. Such emotions didn’t enter her father’s thinking. Then she got raped, the men who did it suffering retribution dished out by her brothers. Going to the police was unthinkable, her father not willing to consider for an instant the stain on his family resulting from an investigation which would have made the news locally. Instead, Nadia found she was to be shipped back to Pakistan as damaged goods. Married to some smelly bag of rags with a lice infested beard. Put amongst other women he owned to scrub and clean and provide sexual gratification as a bonus. She’d said she’d rather die than submit to that and thus she was found unconscious somewhere she’d chosen as a final act of rebellion. A Christian graveyard clutching a carved stone cross an overdose of barbiturate in her system. Incredibly when police had arrived at the house to break the news of her death, her father, the main and only spokesperson of the family said there had been a mistake. His daughter had left the country, returned to Pakistan to marry, so her body was not claimed, and she was disposed of.
My own family life was little better, although thankfully not violent as was the case with Nadia. My home and family life was akin to a war zone. My father Tim having married my mother Angela who was a nasty, scheming, evil bitch who constantly baited and humiliated him. I had three siblings with just one of similar age to me. I soon found myself picked on, isolated from a sister and two brothers because I was different. I had a gift nobody else I knew had. I could see ghosts. We actually had one living with us, Carol. Amazingly, incredibly she knew Paul who later became a key figure in my life. How Carol knew Paul was even more amazing. He’d caused her death on a busy London street by bringing her off the cycle she was riding which in turn threw her under the wheels of a big 4x4 Chelsea tractor. Then, everything came to light when my father Tim didn’t come home one night. He’d been out playing golf. Then, the next morning his car was brought back to the house on a low loader. If that wasn’t unusual him returning was. That was later when the whole family was gathered, a grabbing exercise with my mother there as its main, greedy and grasping centrepiece. My father had died on a golf course; he had returned by sitting in the driver seat being transported back to the house in his car, strapped to the low loader. He was now in the room where this ugly, unseemly bun fight was taking place. I walked in with my elder sister and saw my father. I didn’t scream, but my shock was evident when I rushed out. My action providing more ammunition for Angela to suggest I was mentally disturbed and needed to be put away. That moment was really when I finally got introduced to Carol, our long-term house ghost, to whom my dad is now solidly married. I’d known of Carol since I was 5, possibly even younger. So, ghosts never frightened me. They were no threat. The only risk I ever had would result from the actions of people like my mother who merely labelled people like me, people who could see and communicate with ghosts as barking mad!
I’d really given the car a workout, Nadia was still out for the count, but the journey was taking its toll on me. I stopped at Ferrybridge services on the A1M and called Greg while I sent Nadia in for coffee to keep me awake.
‘Hi Daisy, how’s it going?’
‘Well Greg we are in West Yorkshire, Ferrybridge Services to be precise.’ I heard surprise in his voice.
‘Wow, that is some going, are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m totally knackered if that is possible for a woman!’ I replied. ‘I’ve had my foot down all the way since our first stop. Outside lane, headlights on all the way.’ I saw Nadia heading back. ‘Nadia will do the next section. It should be our last, another hour and a half tops. Do you want to pre-warn the neighbours?’ I asked laughing. Nadia was back and she took her seat beside me.
‘I’ve just seen on the news. Police divers are at the lake. I guess we will soon find out if my hunch is correct. Hopefully if it is, Ruben Clancy will have some awkward questions to answer.’ I wondered.
‘We can hope Greg, but the way things work in this world, and the bastard we are dealing with here, it’s more than possible you might be in the firing line too.’ There was silence on the end of the line briefly.
‘Really, you think so?’
‘Yes, Greg I do. From those final words of his, you described, I think he could turn it all back onto you. I’d think about how you might answer those questions, should they arise.’ We didn’t continue our conversation. I finished the call and headed off to the services. Coffee tended to go straight through me, and I needed the loo before we continued. When i returned Nadia was seated high up in my Range Rover belted up ready to go and with twilight approaching and our lights turned on, we headed north.
A tale of crime, mystery romance and the Paranormal
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