The Puppet Master Page 8

  This is one of the things that Adam loved about being a journalist. He’d been doing his column and other freelance work for over five years, since he finished university, and he’d built up a lot of contacts. Journalism wasn’t for you if you couldn’t, as it was those contacts that would help you advance further. This industry was one hundred per cent ‘who you know’. So, after a few phone calls, he was able to track down the listed address for his uncle. To Adam’s surprise, it was a big house in one of the most affluent areas of Worcester. Part of him wasn’t convinced that it was right but his friend at the police station was the one who gave it to him, so it came from a legit source. His mate had also offered to send him over a file on his uncle but Adam couldn’t bear to intrude any more than he had to.

  He had parked his car down the street where it was out of sight, a drive-by had shown that his uncle’s car wasn’t outside so despite the sick feeling it gave him, Adam had decided to have a look around. He didn’t know when his uncle would be back and he needed answers. He walked up the driveway that led to his uncle’s house.

  The driveway was surrounded by trees, the kind of privacy only the wealthy could afford. He took in the large white painted house. Windows of various sizes stared down at him. He passed manicured lawns on either side of him as he headed towards the path that was down the side of a garage that was built into one side of the house. He started down the path that was marked by an archway of artful greenery and flowers. His wonder at the beauty of his surroundings was marred by the images of his dishevelled and essentially homeless uncle that had last visited Adam. The last time they spoke his uncle was full of stories about how awful the bedsit was. When Adam reached the back of the house he stopped abruptly, it was like paradise incarnate. The impeccable lawn was surrounded by carefully coordinated bursts of colour. The two water fountains shaped like lions competed in shooting water the highest. The elegant decked area had walls and a ceiling of climbing flowers and green leaves like nature had claimed it back. Adam imagined that sitting in that area would be like being in a jungle; the large leaves at the top of the frame providing shelter. It was like someone had taken the garden of a stately home and transplanted it into this garden.

  The vast conservatory, complete with Roman-style columns, was his first port of call. He spotted the CCTV on the top of it, so his hopes of getting in were doubtful. When he got to the conservatory doors, there were two large plant pots, so huge as if they were chosen as guards for the door. He checked behind and underneath each, and was relieved when he found a key. The one advantage of having elderly relatives is that they were very predictable. He entered the house and found the interior just as awe-inspiring as the outside. His uncle had always been cool, he was not one for dressing his age and so it wasn’t too surprising that he had modern tastes, just the scale of his home and the magnitude of his wealth was what Adam couldn’t understand. His thoughts were interrupted by a piercing alarm. How could he have missed the number pad right next to him? He tried a few numbers glad that at least his uncle’s birthday was the same if nothing else was. It worked and silence decended.

  Adam did a quick tour of the house, to get his bearings. Three bedrooms looked out over the front of the house and then another one, that seemed to be the only room that was used, overlooked the garden. This must be his uncle’s bedroom, thought Adam. The room was opulent, everything looked brand new. He saw his uncle’s clothes neatly folded on a dresser. He walked over to the built-in wardrobe. His head pulsed in pain as he took in the designer labels on most of the clothes in the wardrobe. Even Adam would have chosen to wear some of the stuff. But on the other side of the rack were the clothes that Adam had seen him wearing, they looked like they had come out of a charity shop, worn corduroy trousers and jeans with holes in them. Adam knew that his uncle used to be a very wealthy man, a tragedy had lost him his fortune and now he was living on barely anything. But this was obviously not the case. Things started slotting into place for Adam and with a nauseating feeling, the rose-tinted glasses came off and Adam began to realise his uncle was not who he thought he was.

  Adam was slumped on his uncle’s bed trying to grasp the fact that his uncle, his own flesh and blood, was possibly the best manipulator he had ever known. He had lied, deceived and controlled Adam his entire life. He took advantage of the fact that as a young boy, Adam had been crying out for a father-figure, a role model, and used it for his own gains. Adam had done anything and everything that his uncle had wanted. His entire life had been shaped by conversations and the direction from his uncle.

  He shook his head and was about to stand up when he noticed a crack that ran down the middle of the right-hand side wall. It looked as though this wall was only there for decoration as there was a large cast iron lamp that was right next to the crack in the wall. It looked like it had been put there to hide the crack until it could be fixed. But as Adam got up and walked closer, he saw that the crack ran in a rigid straight line and looked like it went all the way to the floor. He moved what looked like an ornamental chest to get a better view and saw that it didn’t run all the way to the floor, there was a gap between the wall and the floor. He pushed at the wall, trying in different places until he saw the wall begin to give. It was a door.

  Adam pushed the door and it gave way easily when he found the right place to apply pressure. He found himself in a small, narrow room. The light from the bedroom behind him lit up a sliver of the room, making the darkness in front of him ominous. A cold draft tickled his neck, causing his hair to stand on end. Adam felt along the wall blindly, until something hit his head, groping in the air he clasped a handle and pulled. The tinkling sound of a light bulb sounded and the room was flooded with light. It was extremely narrow the grey concrete walls either side made him feel claustrophobic – it looked like an artificial passageway between two rooms. It was empty apart from an old brown wooden desk at the end opposite to the door, with an executive chair. As he moved towards it he could see the seat was worn. Standing in front of the desk, he saw photos on the walls, some Polaroids, some standard prints, but they all had the same person on them. Sometimes his uncle was in the picture too, but most of the time it was just one little girl, growing progressively older in each image.

  On the desk there were lots of leather-bound books, some had more photos in, some had been written in; like a diary. His head was thumping in horror as he began to grasp what he was seeing. Words jumped out at him from the pages “my favourite”, “so easy to control”, and “my precious”. A miniature television was on the other side of the desk, when he switched it on, he saw a grainy image of a man. He moved closer, his face was right up to the screen and he swore when his uncle’s face come into focus. He nearly collapsed with panic as he recognised Billie’s flat. He burst from the hidden room and ran with the speed of an arrow, his fear spurring him on. He dialled Billie’s phone on the way but it just rang out. He saw she had left him a voicemail and it hurt to hear her happy voice telling him to come over this evening as she was going to buy his favourite food. His uncle was obviously looking for Billie, he didn’t know why or how but he knew he needed to get to her. He thanked God as he drove, oblivious to the orchestra of beeping horns that his driving elicited, that Billie was a creature of habit and he knew exactly where she was.

  Part Two

  The Past

  “Beware of the heartless who make your heart beat quickly. They’re just using your heart because theirs won’t start.”

  Unknown

  “Some people would push you off a ledge, just to catch you and say they saved your life.”

  Unknown

  Chapter Nine

  1998

  Adam

  Adam gripped his mum’s hand, hoping that if he squeezed hard enough, she’d wake up and tell him off. When it didn’t work, he loosened his grip and went back to staring at her, trying to make sure he would remember exactly what she looked like. The doctors said it would not be long now, till she went to heaven, so
he didn’t want to forget anything about her. His dad sat in the seat on the other side; he would not even look at her. It made him angry. It made him want to smack his dad like his mum would smack him when he was naughty. It wasn’t fair. His dad had so many more ‘remember when’ moments than Adam had. He should be using them to stay brave for his wife, like Adam kept being told. He’d been sent to a school counsellor when his mum’s illness started to get worse. His counsellor, Emma, would play games with him, like ‘remember when’. Emma said whenever Adam got upset about his mum leaving he was to play this in his head and think of all the funny or happy times that he had had with his mum. When he thought of the happy times with his mum, it made it easier to sit next to her and talk to her. It kept the crying at bay.

  His dad had sneered at Adam, the first time they saw Mum, and he’d begun to cry at the sight of her pale cheeks and the way her body had shrunk, like the way his T-shirt had when Mum washed it on the wrong setting. “Only girls cry. Cut it out,” said his dad. So before every visit, Adam focused on what stories he would tell his mum this time. If he concentrated on that, it would stop his tears. He could pretend that his mum was just sleeping.

  Adam hated the hospital; the beeping sounds of the machines gave him a headache. The tubes and wires that were stuck into his mum made him feel sick if he looked at them too long. He blamed the hospital for making her sick. Every time he came she looked worse, she was supposed to get better in here, not worse. The doctor had told his dad, when they thought Adam wasn’t listening, that they had operated on her but they couldn’t remove all of the tumours. Adam didn’t know what a tumour was. He had asked Emma and she said that it was a bad thing that was making his mum poorly. That made Adam think that there was an alien inside his mum. As much as he hated the hospital, he hated going home more.

  When his mum was there, Adam used to love going home. The bell would ring at school and he would race to the gates, anxiously seeking her out. She would always be there with the same blue raincoat, even when it wasn’t raining, and a broad smile. She would always give him a hug, which he would pretend not to want, but secretly he loved. It was like being wrapped in a cloud.

  Adam was very proud of his mum. She was very pretty with long brown hair and she was always clean and thin. Some of the other kids’ parents, especially Jamie’s mum, came to school in their pyjamas and never washed their hair. When he asked his mum why, she told him that she ‘always wanted to look good for her favourite little man’ and then she would ruffle his hair till he managed to escape her clutches.

  Then they would walk home together and they would tell each other stories about their day. Mum’s stories were always funny. His favourite story was the elephant that liked to sleep underneath Adam’s bed; she’d had to coax it out with peanuts so that she could hoover under there. Adam told her he was too old for stories like that. But he still couldn’t help but laugh at the funny actions his mum did. Once home, she would sit and help him with his homework, then feed him his tea. After a quick bath, which he could do alone now – ‘get out, Mum’ – she would put him to bed and tell him the most imaginative and crazy stories. It made him have weird dreams about cowboys who hated tomatoes but he loved that special time with her. Not that he would tell her.

  He wished he had now.

  He’d give anything to tell her how she was his person. He didn’t know how to live without her. His world was boring and rubbish now that she wasn’t there. Walking home from school now felt like walking to the dentist, he was nervous as to what he would fine at home. Scared of his dad. Usually, Adam only saw his dad on a weekend. He would commute to London every weekday and then at the weekend they would always do something as a family. It was his mum’s rule. Even if one of them was ill, they had to do something, even if it was only watching a film. His dad could be quite grumpy on those weekends. Tired from all his long train journeys, he didn’t have much patience with Adam. But each time his dad began to raise his voice and lose his temper, all it took was for his mum to put a reassuring hand on his arm and he would calm down.

  Adam’s dad adored his wife. It sometimes made Adam jealous when he saw his dad holding his mum’s hand and making her laugh and smile. Adam wanted to be the only one that could do that. His dad was a big man, he was so tall, taller than all his friends’ dads, his height hid his weight. Adam’s friends didn’t like his dad very much because his loud voice and towering body scared them. But they all loved his mum. She was an excellent cook and she didn’t mind Adam and his friends eating junk food. His mum had said that kids should be kids and they could worry about eating chocolate when they are grown up.

  Without his mum in the house, there was no one to calm his dad’s nasty temper. He was fine for the first week that his mum was in the hospital but then they found out she would not be coming home.

  Adam’s dad became a different person. When Adam came home from school, the house was a mess. His dad was no longer working and had never cleaned a house in his entire life or cooked a meal. So the takeout wrappers they had were piling up on the table. The clothes that hadn’t been washed were piling up in front of the washing machine.

  Adam was sent to his room as soon as he got back. He was only allowed back downstairs when the doorbell went. Adam’s mum had made him promise never to use the bath on his own. He had tried now, but the heat would not work, no matter which tap he used, so he’d washed what he could with a flannel in the sink. He tried to wash his hair but he banged his head on the tap and didn’t want to try any more. Life without his mum was hard. He had no order or routine. No one to rely on to help him with his homework, or tell him what time to go to bed.

  He often heard his dad crying in the kitchen – that was where he slept now. Adam wanted to go downstairs and cry with him. He missed his mum too. They could be sad together. But the last couple of days had taught Adam to stay out of sight.

  At school, the third week after his mum went into the hospital, Adam was called to see Emma. He wasn’t supposed to see her until Thursday. Emma gave him a smile and a hug as normal but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. His mum had told him that that was when you knew someone was pretending – if the smile didn’t go into their eyes.

  “Hi, Adam.” Adam didn’t answer, he was worried. As if she knew he was worrying, Emma reassured him that his mum was still alive and that she just needed to ask him some questions. “Adam, love, why did you ask Jamie if he knew how to work a washing machine?” She used that tone that his mum used when she already knew the answer but she just wanted to hear him say it. He didn’t want to get his dad in trouble. But his mum had always told Adam that he had to be honest. Even if it was hard. ‘Honesty is the best policy’ is what she would always say.

  Looking at his knees, speaking quietly so no one else but Emma could hear, he answered. “I don’t have any underpants left. It isn’t dad’s fault, he don’t know how to use it either. It’s a big machine, with lots of buttons.”

  “Okay, sweetie. Thank you for telling me. And when was the last time you had a bath or shower?” Adam was embarrassed. Some of the boys in his class had been picking on him, saying that his hair was really greasy and disgusting. They said he had the lurgy. He had washed it with soap in the sink but it still didn’t go as shiny and soft as when his mum did it. Adam was certain that his dad was going to get into trouble now, and it was Adam’s fault. If he weren’t so useless he would know all these things. I bet the other boys did.

  “It’s not Dad’s fault. Please don’t be mad at him. It’s just with Mum…” he trailed off. He couldn’t actually say the word hospital. It made him cry, and only girls cry.

  “Don’t worry, Adam. No one is in trouble. Do you have any other family?”

  Adam thought about this. “Not really, Mum’s an only child and my grandma and granddad are dead. There’s Uncle Eric. He is Dad’s brother. But he lives up North. Mum doesn’t like him because he rides a motorbike. She said it’s a midlife crisis.”

  “Alright, thank
s, love. I think we should get in touch with Uncle Eric. Dad is very sad, isn’t he? It might cheer him up to have his brother there, don’t you think?”

  Adam had once heard his parents discussing Uncle Eric on their way back from Wales. His dad had said that he didn’t like him because when they were younger, he was always getting Dad into trouble. His dad said that he could wrap everyone around his finger and it got on his nerves. Well, he actually said a rude word but his mum said he would get his mouth washed out with soap if he ever said naughty words. Adam didn’t tell Emma this because he liked his uncle Eric. He was fun. He always brought Adam a cool present that he could take into to school and show off. His favourite so far was the metre-long Scalextric.

  The next week, Adam answered the door because his dad was sleeping and no amount of poking would wake him up. It was his uncle Eric. Adam was a bit ashamed to let him in the house. It was so messy. But Uncle Eric pushed past him anyway. Because their house was open plan, he was able to see all the mess in the kitchen and the living room in one go.

  He walked over to his brother and smacked him on the back of the head. “What the hell do you think you’re doing sleeping in the day when your house looks like a shit tip?” Ignoring the cursing coming from the sofa, he thrust open the living room curtains and yelled: “Rise and shine, you lazy git.” Adam giggled in the corner with nervous relief. Hearing the sound, Uncle Eric walked back over to Adam and bent down to his level. “Now, how would you like to take part in a very special mission? It is called ‘Operation Clean the House’.” Adam readily agreed, happy that there was someone once again taking control of his life.