Chapter 23
The cottage was in darkness when Jack returned, and there was no sign of life. Guessing that Molly must be in bed, Jet with her, he swapped his shoes for trainers, grabbed a torch and the keys to the gates, and slipped outside.
He was too strung out to sleep, so the walk would do him good. Besides, it was still relatively early and he knew that if he went to bed now he’d spend the next two hours staring at the ceiling.
After he’d said goodbye to his sister, he had gone back to his old house and had sat in the garden, thinking. But it hadn’t done any good. He still had no idea what he should do for the best, so he’d made his way back to the park keeper’s cottage and the woman who owned it, his heart heavy. In a way, he was relieved she was in bed, because he didn’t think he could face her tonight, not when he was feeling so raw after seeing Della. Anyway, he hadn’t locked the gates yet, so if she had been up he’d have had the perfect excuse to go out again.
He always followed the same route every evening. Starting with the gate located at the far side of the children’s play area, he strolled past the woodland (scowling at the newly created path), through the field to the gate at the top, then made his way across the meadow to the pond. The gate there was seldom used, and from the way the grass had grown up through its bars, he guessed it hadn’t been opened for a while. He locked it anyway, then followed the edge of the pond and down through the meadow again until he felt tarmac beneath his feet. This path would take him past the boarded-up cafe and the run-down bandstand, and he’d lock that gate after ushering out any teenagers who were loitering there. Finally, he would lock the small gate next to the large main ones, after which he’d have no excuse to stay out any longer, although he could always sit on a bench if he could find an unbroken one, and look at the stars and contemplate the way his life was slowly falling apart.
‘Oi, mister! You gonna kick us out or what?’
Jack was brought out of his musings by the cocky voice of a lad who should have been safely tucked up in bed at home and not showing off in front of his mates – who also had no business being in the park at ten-forty-five on a Thursday night, especially during term time when they probably had school the next day.
‘I sure am,’ he said, trying not to show his irritation. Did they have to go through the same ritual every evening? He’d tell them he was about to lock the gates, and they’d give him grief. Sometimes it took him twenty minutes or more to shift them.
Tonight, possibly because he was later than normal, they gave him less attitude than they usually did, and left with only a few cat calls, plus a bit of swearing and jeering.
Result!
Maybe they were finally getting the message that no matter what names they called him or how much fuss they made, he was going to lock the gates regardless. In the beginning he’d had to threaten to lock them in to get them to move (that had gone down like a lead balloon – and he was surprised none of them had called his bluff), but as the days had trundled on, they’d come to grudgingly accept his authority.
With the last gate finally locked, Jack went to bed.
***
‘Jack? Are you awake? Jack?’ Molly knocked on Jack’s door again. Surely he couldn’t still be asleep? Not with Jet whining louder than an old-fashioned kettle on a hob, and her hammering on his door.
When it opened abruptly, Molly stepped back.
Jack wasn’t wearing much, just a pair of shorts, and her eyes immediately went to his chest and the smattering of hairs trailing down his stomach.
With an effort, she tore her gaze away and focused on his face. He looked remarkably alert for someone who had been soundly asleep, she thought, but then she noticed earbuds around his neck and his mobile in his hand, and guessed he must have been on the phone to Chantelle, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.
‘Sorry, I was listening to music,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’
‘I think someone might be in the park.’
‘Not that again.’ Jack’s eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened. ‘The little…’
‘I’m happy to go,’ Molly said, ‘but I thought it best to wake you in case I ran into trouble.
‘You will not go.’
‘I can manage.’
‘Against a bunch of yobs?’
‘I’ll have Jet with me.’
‘That’s not a good idea. Wait there.’ Jack disappeared into his room, reappearing a few seconds later wearing a pair of jeans and pulling a T-shirt over his head. ‘I’ll go, but if you insist on coming with me, keep a tight hold of Jet. You don’t want to risk him getting hurt or biting anyone.’
‘He’s not got a nasty bone in his body!’ Molly was aghast that Jack should think such a thing.
‘I know he hasn’t, but if things get hairy he might feel he has to defend you.’
Molly hadn’t thought of that, so along with the worry about what was happening in the park, she was now also worried about her dog. ‘Oh, God… Shall we ignore it? And not go out there?’
‘I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of ill-mannered, disrespectful, unruly teenagers destroy what you’ve done.’ Jack pushed past her and hurried down the stairs.
Molly trotted after him. ‘What we’ve done,’ she corrected.
‘Apologies – Reuben’s worked hard, too.’
‘I wasn’t referring to him,’ she said, but Jet’s whining had turned into deep, rumbling growls and she didn’t think Jack heard her.
He shoved his feet into his trainers and yanked the door open, racing outside, Molly haring out after him, one hand wrapped around Jet’s collar to stop him from running off.
But there was nothing to be seen.
The restored flower beds were untouched and no one lurked in the shadows as far as Molly could tell. Jack had come to a halt on the path and he was also scrutinising them, a frown marring his brow.
Then his head came up. ‘Listen. Do you hear that?’
Molly was about to say that the only thing she could hear was Jet’s grumbling, when she heard it too.
‘Is someone shouting for help?’ she asked and Jet whined loudly, tugging at his collar. ‘Where’s it coming from?’
‘Inside the park, I think,’ Jack replied, cupping a hand to his ear. ‘Over there.’ He pointed towards the meadow.
Molly and Jack arrived at the same conclusion. ‘The pond!’ she cried, just as he said, ‘It’s coming from the direction of the pond,’ and they stared at each other in dismay.
‘It can’t be – I locked the gates. And I made sure no one was left inside.’
With a muttered curse Jack broke into a run and sprinted away. Molly tried to keep up with him, but even with Jet pulling her along, she was quickly left behind. All she could do was follow as best she could.
Dreading what she might find, she jogged after him, puffing and panting, and lamenting her lack of fitness, and as she stumbled along the path the cries for help became louder and more frantic.
‘Please God, don’t let anyone be hurt,’ she prayed, her lungs labouring and her legs aching, and a stitch soon had her clutching her left side in pain.
Finally, she was almost there. A three-quarter moon shed silver light on the water, and she squinted, wondering why it appeared to be frothing and not its usual still surface.
Oh, my God! Someone was in the water!
Twosomeones!
A third person stood on the bank and she recognised him as one of the teenagers who was usually to be found near the bandstand, the one who had said “Make me” when she had asked him to pick his litter up.
‘Connor’s drowning, mister!’ the boy shouted. ‘He’s stuck on something.’
Molly rushed up to him, her eyes scanning the pond, and she bent forward to catch her breath.
Jack was wading out to the far side, and as she watched he launched himself forward and began to swim. He was heading towards the pale, frightened face of a boy who was splashing ineffectually and barely managing to keep his head above water.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
The kid standing next to her looked younger than she remembered, and less sure of himself. He was also soaking wet. ‘He fell in. He’s a shitty swimmer so I went in after him, but he got caught up and I was scared I might, too.’ He was close to tears. ‘I left him there.’
‘Don’t worry, Jack will get him out.’ She prayed that was true. Jack seemed to be a strong swimmer and she had every faith in him.
Her heart was in her mouth though, and she didn’t think she could watch, but neither could she look away. As he drew nearer to the boy, she could hear Jack talking to the lad, but was unable to make out the individual words.
‘Have you phoned the emergency services?’ she asked.
‘I couldn’t. I left my phone on the grass before I went in, but I can’t find it.’
Molly realised he was close to tears. ‘I’ll call them,’ she said, fear making her hands shake as she reached into her pocket for her mobile.
But just as she was about to dial 999, Jack dove beneath the surface.
Shocked, Molly shrieked, ‘Jack! What the hell are you doing!’
At that moment Jet leapt forward, almost yanking her off her feet. Abruptly, she let go of his collar and fell to her knees as the dog bounded into the water.
‘Jet!’ she screamed, but he ignored her, doggy paddling towards the boy, who was spluttering and coughing.
Terrified for all three, she patted the ground, searching for her dropped phone, and at the very same moment her fingers touched the screen, the boy standing next to her shouted, ‘He’s got him. See?’
Molly saw, and relief swept through her. Connor was free of whatever it was he had got caught up on, and was clinging to Jack like a limpet, his arms around Jack’s neck.
She clambered to her feet on shaking legs. Thank God for—
Wait… Jack didn’t seem to be swimming; he was stationary in the water and splashing more than he should.
Something was very wrong indeed, and she guessed the boy must be dragging him down. Jack was floundering badly and wasn’t making any progress.
Oh, my God, they were both going to drown!
And they might have, if it hadn’t been for Jet.
The plucky dog had reached Jack and the boy, and was circling them. Molly couldn’t quite make out what happened, but suddenly the dog was swimming for the bank with the boy hanging onto his collar as Jet towed him along. She could hear the animal’s puffed exhalations as he tried to breathe and swim whilst being half-strangled by the scared youngster whose life he was saving, and she prayed he would reach the shallows safely.
But it was Jack who she was more worried about now – he’d disappeared under the water again and he had yet to resurface.
‘Don’t you dare drown,’ she yelled, stooping to remove her trainers. There was nothing for it, she would have to go in. ‘You can’t die, you stupid man. I love you! Oh, buggering hell!’ she cried, feeling sick with relief when she saw his head break the surface of the water, cursing him for scaring her like that.
Jet’s paws touched the bottom of the pond, and the boy he was towing realised the water was shallow enough to stand up in.
‘Are you OK?’ she cried, hurrying into the water to help him and gasping at the cold.
‘I’m alright. Cold, though. It’s effing freezing in there. We climbed the fence,’ he said, his teeth chattering.
Jet shook himself violently from the top of his head to the tip of his tail, sending water droplets through the air, dousing Molly.
The other teenager chimed in, ‘We know it was wrong, but we wanted to teach him a lesson.’ He jerked his thumb towards Jack, who had almost reached the bank.
‘We’ll discuss that later.’ Turning to Connor, Molly said, ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Do you need an ambulance? I think I’d better call one anyway, to be on the safe side.’
‘Don’t,’ Connor begged, looking frightened. ‘Liam, tell her.’
‘You can’t. His dad will kick off big time if he finds out,’ Liam explained.
‘I don’t care,’ Molly began, and was about to make the call when Jack stumbled out of the water, staggering as he reached the bank, where he flopped onto the grass and lay motionless.
‘Jack!’ Molly left the two boys to their own devices, seeing that Connor wasn’t in any immediate danger, and went to tend to the man she loved.
Relieved to find him breathing, she rolled him onto his side.
‘I’m OK,’ he gasped. He was shivering violently and his breathing was ragged, but he didn’t appear to be hurt. ‘Cold and out of breath, that’s all. I thought I was a goner for a minute.’
‘What happened?’
He sat up, his chest heaving. ‘The boy’s foot was caught in a shopping trolley. I had to dive down to free him, but when I came back up, he practically climbed on top of me and pushed me under again, so this time it was me who got my foot caught.’ He shook his head. ‘Stupid.’ He turned a stricken face towards her. ‘Is he OK?’
‘He’s fine and so is Jet.’
‘That dog’s a hero. If it wasn’t for him…’ Jack trailed off.
Molly shuddered. She didn’t want to think how badly things could have gone if it hadn’t been for the bravery of her dog.
‘Right,’ she said, taking charge, because someone had to and she was the only one in any fit state. ‘I’m going to phone for an ambul—’ She stopped and looked around. The two boys were nowhere in sight. They had scarpered, without a thank you or even a goodbye.
There’s gratitude for you, she thought, hoping Connor was OK. If she knew his full name or where he lived, she would go to his house to check: but all she could do now was to look out for him or his mate, Liam, at the bandstand tomorrow night.
With a sigh, she put her arm around Jack and helped him to his feet. She needed to get him and Jet home and dried off.
And when Jack went to bed, she would be able to let the tears which she was gamely holding back, flow to their heart’s content. Jack mightn’t be hers, but that didn’t matter any more. He was alive, and she could so very easily have lost him completely.