Any One of Us by Ford Martyn

Any One of Us by Ford Martyn

Author:Ford, Martyn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Thomas & Mercer
Published: 2022-10-13T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eleven

Like many big things from her childhood, the Cliff Ridge Recreation Ground didn’t feel quite as daunting as Ruby remembered. But, today, the forty acres of sport pitches stretching between the fences and treeline still managed to make her feel small. She slammed the door shut, turned away from the car and walked across the grass, Jay following close behind as they passed the cricket greens, practice nets and looming rugby goals.

Up ahead, all around the wooden pavilion building, blue lights spun in the afternoon gloom. Armed officers, dogs, spreading out and searching. Voices crackled away on ambient radios, half-heard call signs and soundbites, all with a unique collective objectivity, the pleasing and efficient nature of composed urgency whispering through the airwaves.

Ruby arrived, climbed some steps and walked across the stone slabs, along the pavilion’s front wall. The wide windows were placed high, tucked up into the eaves of the roof. Darkened glass, like mirrors, reflecting the flat, empty grass at her side. It was as dim as daylight ever gets, grey clouds above, but no rain, just their shapes cast, vast and sprawling shadows sweeping fast across the pitches like the faint ripple of light on a shallow seabed. At this scale, Ruby was just another grain of sand.

Good hand gloved, disposable shoe covers on both feet. Inside now, into the fresh scene. All the lights were off, most chairs were upside down on the tables, the floor cleared and ready to clean. Disturbance was obvious at first glance, like microexpressions on a loved one’s face. You could never explain how you know something is wrong, but you’d bet everything you own that it is. But then she looked and saw the signs. A bar stool at an unusual angle, the cool breeze of an open window somewhere behind the bar and then, most notably, the muffled hum and roar of a vacuum cleaner still running. It was on the carpet, near the door to the kitchen, the tube coiled exactly where it had been dropped.

Jay crouched and flicked the mains switch, cutting the place to silence. Rising, he turned back to Ruby. “In there,” he said, tilting his head towards the faint glimmer of light glowing from the kitchen.

Remnants of last night’s party were spread across the bar. Countless glasses, some half-eaten buffet platters covered with clingfilm and a few paper streamers still webbed over beer taps and light fittings. Behind, a banner dangled vertically from a shelf. It said “Birthday” in multi-coloured bunting letters, though there was no sign of the “Happy” half.

On through the bar’s partition, towards the kitchen where Ruby saw that the lock had been broken, barged open, splinters of door frame clinging on, flakes of paint around the floor. Going inside, turning, tentative and slow so that—

She stopped. Stared.

He was sitting on the tiles, his back against the oven door and, maybe because it was so raw, his open eyes still seemed full of life, as though he was pretending and might just take a sudden gasp of air and laugh.



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