The Girl in the Rug Read online

  The Girl in the Rug

  A Witches of Glory Woods Novel

  By K. Leitch

  Copyright ©Kay Leitch 2014

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the author.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First published 2014, updated January 2016

  New cover March 2016

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2 - 1984

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4 - CAULDRON MEETING

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6 - HELEN

  CHAPTER 7 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 8 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 9 - 1985

  CHAPTER 10 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 11 - HELEN

  CHAPTER 12 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 13 - 1986

  CHAPTER 14 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 15 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 16 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 17 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 21 - CAULDRON MEETING

  CHAPTER 22 - 1987

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 25 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 26 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 27 - 1987

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 33 - CAULDRON MEETING

  CHAPTER 34 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 35 - 1987

  CHAPTER 36 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42 - HELEN

  CHAPTER 43 - 1987

  CHAPTER 44 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 45 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 50 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 51 - HELEN

  CHAPTER 52 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 53 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 56 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 57 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 58 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60 - TRACY

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64 - MAGGIE

  CHAPTER 65 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67 - CARLA

  CHAPTER 68 - CAULDRON MEETING

  CHAPTER 69

  A NOTE FROM KAY

  NEXT TIME...

  PREVIOUSLY...

  CHAPTER 1

  Through the crack in the bathroom door, Frank watched as the huge shadowy figure circled the high metal hospital bed where Clive Tutt lay, recovering from an operation to mend the arteries in his neck, attached to bleeping machines and drips filled with fluids. Although he had checked the corridor and quietly closed the door to the room snapping the blinds shut as he did so, the intruder, it seemed, was completely unaware of Frank watching him from the shadows.

  Frank knew who he was though, he was easily recognizable with his mean scarred face and his huge body…he was the stuff that nightmares were made of.

  The creature limped round to the locker at the side of the bed and began frantically searching through it, throwing clothes and toiletries to one side impatiently. Frank could hear his low growl of frustration when he didn’t find what he was looking for.

  His attention then turned to the man in the bed and Frank pulled back further into the shadows, his heart beating hard in his chest, as he got a proper look at him for the first time. He swallowed down a gasp of revulsion as the moonlight revealed a mass of weeping yellow pustules on top of angry red burnt flesh that once was this man’s face…his injuries making him as hideous as any creature from a gothic horror.

  Frank watched him move with slow menace towards the bed; he saw the glint of a blade in his hand and the look of sadistic cruelty on his monstrous face. He knew what awful brutality this man was capable of. Now was the time to make his presence known…now before Clive Tutt was screaming in agony and begging for his life.

  Frank stayed where he was. He kept quiet…watching with an almost malicious pleasure as the monster circled his victim. He watched as Clive Tutt opened his eyes, he saw his expression turn from dazed bewilderment to all consuming terror as he realised who was standing over him…still Frank hesitated. ‘Clive Tutt deserves to be gutted alive,’ he thought viciously, ‘the slimy bastard deserves everything he gets.’

  ‘Move!…Now!...you have to stop this,’ another voice in Frank’s head screamed at him. ‘You are better than this…you must stop this from happening, no matter how much you hate and despise the man in the bed.’

  Frank angrily trampled down that thought…after all who would ever know if he just stayed where he was and let the intruder do his worst…who would ever know…some might even say that justice had been done.

  CHAPTER 2 - 1984

  ‘No no…shut up…shut up,’ the little boy whispered desperately into his bedcovers, ‘shut up…don’t shout at him…no don’t say that…he won’t like that…please, please shut up.’

  He was listening, trembling and afraid as he heard the argument downstairs taking on an all too familiar path. He put his head under his pillows, maybe this time he could block out the noise.

  But no matter how hard he squeezed the pillow round his head, he could still hear Mum’s voice getting louder and louder, shriller and shriller, shouting, taunting, as she called him all the names under the sun.

  His little body started to tremble when all too soon the inevitable sounds of breaking crockery followed the shouting, and then a deeper growl, threatening, aggressive, was mixed in with the screaming insults….

  ‘Come ‘ere you slag…whatcha call me eh…slag...come ‘ere…don’t make me come and get you…’

  Tables and chairs being overturned; his mother being pursued around the house by this latest monster that she had let into their home. He burrowed further under his quilt and put his fingers in his ears, while hot tears streamed down his face.

  A loud scream and a wail and then the terrifying, but all too familiar, sounds of fists hitting flesh…grunts and moans as his mum is being pulled up and then punched back down, animal groaning as his boots are connecting with her thighs, her stomach…then quiet except for soft whimpering sounds.

  A few moments later the front door slams…the boy slips out of his bed and creeps downstairs.

  His mother is curled up on the kitchen floor, she is bloody and beaten.

  He reaches out and stokes her hair and she turns puffed up blackened eyes towards him, lifts a hand and pulls him close.

  ‘I’m sorry Frankie baby,’ she whispered through split lips, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  CHAPTER 3

  Andy walked home slowly, four year old Lucy following on behind as usual. It was not even four o’clock yet, but the night was drawing in and he could feel the cold air seeping through his threadbare coat, he felt chilled to the very core of his skinny eight year old body. He turned and waited for Lucy to catch up; she seemed oblivious to the cold, despite the fact that her coat was just as inadequate as his. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkled as she ran up to where he was waiting.

  ‘Did you see me Andy…I jumped right over that puddle, right over it. Shall I do it again so you can see?’ she gushed, tu
rning to run back again.

  Andy stopped her with a laugh. ‘Nah Lucy, I don’t need to see it…you showed me this morning, remember.’

  Lucy looked deflated, ‘Come on then, see if you can beat me to that next lamppost,’ Andy said knowing that she wouldn’t be able to resist the challenge, and sure enough she was off charging as fast as her little legs could carry her. Andy jogged slowly after her making sure she beat him.

  ‘Haha…beat you slowcoach,’ Lucy shouted triumphantly.

  Andy just laughed and high fived her.

  Their footsteps started to drag as they turned the corner into the street where they lived; they climbed the dark and filthy staircase to the flats above in silence, oblivious to the piles of rubbish and the discarded needles that littered the stairwells. They both unconsciously braced themselves for whatever they might find when they got home.

  Would Mum be awake, would she have found some money from somewhere and bought enough vodka to drink herself insensible…or would she be growling and spiteful because she hadn’t?

  The mean little flat looked exactly the same as it had this morning, when Andy and Lucy had crept around hunting for clean clothes and school books. Breakfast had been a dry slice of toast and they had shared a mug of tea. Thank goodness for free school dinners, even if they did have to suffer the teasing and scorn of some of the other kids…at least they had both eaten today.

  The living room door was shut and both Andy and Lucy knew from bitter experience that they shouldn’t open it. It meant mum had someone in there…which meant that she would have some money for food at least…once she had bought herself a little something of course.

  So the two children sat in the filthy kitchen, Andy had found an old copy of the Beano, which he read to Lucy, always with one ear on the door waiting for whoever it was to emerge and herald the arrival of his mum.

  Sure enough fifteen minutes later the living room door opened and an enormously fat old man shuffled out hitching up his trousers as he did so. He looked into the kitchen at the two children and then back into the living room sniffing in disgust, then he left slamming the door behind him.

  Andy and Lucy looked at each other with a mixture of fear and anticipation, after a couple of minutes mum appeared pulling a grubby dressing gown round her thin shoulders. She came unsteadily into the kitchen, she had obviously managed to find a drink from somewhere, she was already half drunk.

  ‘Yer home then?’ she slurred falling into the chair next to Lucy, staring at the little girl for a minute as trying to focus, ‘whatcha got there Luce…what is that…Beano? Where d’you get that…fucking shit that is, give us a look,’ she snatched the old comic from out of Lucy’s hand and started to read one of the comic strips.

  ‘Fucking Lord Snooty…what a tosser,’ she laughed throwing the comic down onto the table, before stumbling over to the fridge. ‘What we got to eat then?’ she said to herself as she looked into the empty fridge. ‘Bloody ‘ell there’s nothing ‘ear…you two are fucking eating me out of house and home you are, there’s no bread or nothing…bloody selfish you are. Well you can just go and get me something you lazy little git…’ she shouted at Andy, ‘there’s a fiver on the coffee table, get some chips or something, and take this tenner as well and get me a bottle of voddy…Amish will serve you ‘e knows it’s for me. Go on then, what’s keeping you…and take ‘er wiv you…bloody little pain in the arse…well go on then get going!’ she finished with a swipe at his head.

  Andy didn’t need telling twice, he helped Lucy struggle back into her coat, grabbed the money from the living room and went back out into the cold and dark.

  The scruffy little row of shops that served this end of the estate, were about a hundred yards from the block of flats that housed Andy and his family. Only the ‘open all hours grocery store and off licence’ and ‘Get Battered’ the fish and chip shop now remained. The rest had closed one by one as either the recession had hit, or they had been forced to close because of constant vandalism and robberies. Boarded up windows covered in graffiti being all that was left of the launderette, hairdressers and chemist. Here in the heart of the unlikely named ‘Buttercup’ estate only the most resilient survived.

  Andy went to the mini market first, picking up a loaf of bread and some milk, he added a box of cereal that he knew Lucy liked and then went to the counter to buy the vodka.

  Amish Patel the owner knew Andy, and served him without question, he knew the boy had been sent by his drunken mother to buy alcohol. He also knew that the boy would be punished if he didn’t deliver. Kathy Hunt was a nasty drunk well known on the estate, and many was the time that little Andy would come into his shop covered in bruises, keeping his head down so he didn’t attract attention. Amish felt sorry for the lad, ‘Life must be pretty shit living with that old prossie,’ he thought.

  He grabbed a couple of lollies that were always kept by the counter, ‘There you go kids, special prizes for being the 100th customers,’ he joked as he handed them the sweets. Lucy grabbed hers greedily and immediately began to unwrap the treat, Andy on the other hand smiled his thanks and then carefully hid his in his pocket for later, ushering Lucy out of the shop and into the ‘chippy’ next door. He bought three bags of steaming chips…his stomach was growling with hunger at the delicious smell of them all the way home.

  He knew something was wrong before he even got home. He could hear his mum’s raised voice and that of a man halfway up the stairs…some sort of argument was going on, and that was never good.

  The children tried to get into the house as quietly as they could. Andy thought if they could just get into the bedroom without being noticed, then they could eat their chips and keep out of the way of what ever had Mum screaming and shouting. They walked in through the hall, Andy left Mum’s chips and the vodka on the kitchen table and then they both crept towards their little room.

  The living room door flew open; Mum came storming out in a rage. ‘Where the bloody hell do you think you are creeping off to you little bastard,’ she screamed at Andy. ‘Where’s my fucking money, you little thief!’

  ‘No,’ stammered Andy desperately, ‘you told me to take it…to get food and chips…and vodka, look Mum I got you your vodka.’ He was silenced by a slap round his head that sent him reeling.

  ‘Don’t lie to me you little shit,’ his mum continued to scream at him, ‘I said to take the fiver, I never said anything about the rest…you are a thieving,’ slap, ‘little,’ slap, ‘thief!’

  Andy’s ears were ringing, but he could hear Lucy sobbing behind him. She was pulling at his sleeve trying to get him into the bedroom as if they would be safe from his mother’s onslaught there.

  Andy knew better than to continue to protest his innocence. He put up his hands to protect himself as best he could from his mother’s slaps until at last her anger began to subside.

  She grabbed the chips from him and shoved him hard through his bedroom door so that he went reeling and landed with a thump next to his bed. Lucy scrambled in after him and scuttled under the bed.

  ‘Well you can go without your chips you little toe rag, and stop ‘er making that fucking noise will ya…snivelling little wimp,’ said his mum as she slammed the door shut leaving the two children sobbing in the darkness.

  Andy listened as his mother’s footsteps retreated back down the hall and into the kitchen. He could hear her laughing at something the man was saying, he heard the clink of glasses as they consumed the bottle of vodka that he had brought home. Soon the laughter became more loud and raucous until finally, the living room door closed and it went quiet.

  Lucy had sobbed herself to sleep in her hiding place under the bed. Andy gently coaxed her out and settled her in her bed holding her hand until she drifted off again. Then he went to his own bed, his stomach was rumbling and he was cold as he lay there in the dark looking out through the grimy window at the moon above. He closed his eyes and prayed to anyone that would listen.

  ‘Please,’ he begge
d hot tears rolling down his face and onto his grubby pillow, ‘please help us…please.’

  CHAPTER 4 - CAULDRON MEETING

  At the once again refurbished ‘The Bull’ public house

  ‘I bloody knew it,’ said Maggie flinging her hands up in exasperation. ‘I remember saying to you Carla years ago that he would end up with some awful man eater. He has always been so sweet and kind and sensible…it is just fucking typical!’ she finished furiously.

  Carla nodded, ‘I know I remember us laughing that he would bring home some big dominatrix type, all leather and whips. She’s not as bad as all that though is she?’

  ‘Oh believe me leather and whips I could deal with,’ said Maggie ruefully, ‘what I can’t stand is sneaky manipulation and causing trouble between my boys…which is what this little minx is trying to do.’

  They were talking about Maggie’s eldest son Dom who, whilst on a lads holiday to Majorca, had met and fallen head over heels for a girl called Maylee. Dom had always been the quiet one of Maggie’s two boys. Despite being the eldest he had always been happy to stay in the shadow of his younger, but much more confident brother, Jed.

  Jed had always been the one that had taken the lead in any games that the boys had played, he was always the first one to make friends at school. Dom was very much in awe of his funny, brave and usually pretty naughty younger brother, going along with all his plans even if it got him into trouble, which it frequently did. Despite their differences though, the two boys were inseparable, each other’s best friend. Even when Jools, Jed’s girlfriend, came onto the scene nothing changed between them, Jools just became part of the gang.

  Maylee though, it seemed, was another kettle of fish and was already causing a rift between the two.

  ‘Why what’s she done?’ asked Helen, looking up from a text that she had just been reading.

  ‘Well apparently Jed and Jools had invited them over for a meal last weekend, only to have Maylee make a big fuss and demand that Dom take her home just because Jools was wearing the same top as her. Then when Jed phoned later, and asked what the hell was the matter, Dom had a big go at him saying that he needed to have a word with Jools because it was obvious that she had got it in for Maylee. Oh I know playground stuff…but the upshot of all that is that now there is a nasty atmosphere and that is the one thing that we have never had in our family,’ Maggie finished furiously.