Steven Dunne - The Reaper

The first gaggle of girls passed him, pulling on coats and mufflers against the chill seaside air. They were utterly carefree in their privileged cocoon. He was struck by their energy and zest, that sense of unabashed expectation that clung to them. They screamed and strutted and giggled and teased, some fingering cigarettes, longing, anxious, anticipating sufficient cover to don the cloak of adulthood, some chewing gum like it was going out of fashion.

And like all of their generation, they were afflicted by that selective blindness which prevents the young seeing anyone of Brook’s age, even someone standing so self-consciously, staring in their direction, wondering what he must look like, a man in his forties, loitering outside a girls’ school on the last day of term.

They walked past him as though he wasn’t there. He didn’t exist, at least not until a middle-aged woman with a tight bun came out of a side door and proceeded to march to the gate, all the while her eyes boring into Brook.

‘Daddy!’ screamed a voice from within a pack of high-pitched banter and a slender dark-haired girl came out of the crowd to fling herself at him.

‘Terri.’ Brook raised his arm with a glance at the matronly figure who, somewhat reassured, slowed her approach to her duty position. There would be no abductions on her watch, after all.

Terri threw herself into Number One Dad’s arms and he swung her round with less ease than he used to. Still, this bridge to the past was important to him. She was the best thing he’d ever done with his life. Perhaps the only thing. In spite of his trepidation, Brook’s tension vanished and he cracked into a wide smile.

‘Daddy. What are you doing here? I can’t believe it.’ She was breathless and a little more self-conscious now, as a couple of her friends had planted themselves against the escaping tide and were looking on with interest. ‘Daddy, this is Cynth and this is Marsha.’

‘Hello Mr Brook,’ said the one identified as Marsha, sheepishly.

‘We’ve seen you on the telly,’ added Cynth with a sidelong leer at Marsha. Ah, he was a celebrity. Now he was visible. Brook smiled back, unaccustomed to star-struck fans.

‘Can we have your autograph, Mr Brook?’ added Marsha.

‘I can do better than that. Give Terri your address and I’ll get my agent to send you a couple of signed photos.’

‘Cor! Would yer?’

‘Take no notice, Cynth. He’s teasing you…’

‘Course I am. I don’t have an agent yet. Now where do you want me to sign, girls? A body part perhaps…’

‘Dad!’

‘Or a piece of underwear?’

‘Stop it!’

‘Or would you like some of my DNA? I’ve got a sample in my pocket.’

‘DAD!’

‘Well…we’ve got homework, Tel, we’ll see you later, yeah.’ They rushed away.

‘That’s got rid of them,’ observed Brook.

Terri turned to her father, still open-mouthed. ‘How could you embarrass me like that, Dad?’

Brook laughed in disbelief. ‘Well, for God’s sake, Terri. My autograph? Doesn’t the real world touch young people? I’m a policeman. The reason I’m on the telly is I’m investigating a triple homicide, and the man I’m after kills girls younger than that and doesn’t turn a hair doing it. Does it all boil down to fame and money for girls like that?’

‘And why shouldn’t it? I’m a girl like that. We’re only young once. Maybe we don’t want the real world to touch us yet, Dad. Is that a bad thing?’ She was calm but furious.

Brook looked at his daughter. He hadn’t seen her for so long. She seemed tall. And beautiful. And intelligent.

‘That’s a good answer,’ he conceded. He was suddenly very proud of her.

‘ I’m a young person, don’t forget. It touches me.’

‘Sorry.’

Terri fixed her eyes on Brook. Her attempt to stop her lips curling up was in vain and she burst out laughing. ‘Their faces though. You’re so bad.’ She punched his arm and shook her head in wonder and Brook laughed with her. ‘Would you like a sample of my DNA? That was really naughty, Dad.’

‘I know. Will they be okay? I mean…’

‘Those two? They’ll be fine. That’s nothing to the things they come out with.’

‘Spare me.’

Brook took her hand and led her towards the car, he beaming at her, chattering away. She was so…mature. Fifteen and so old. The outside world encroached too quickly these days, like it or not. But then it had to if they were to be kept safe. Brook, of all people, knew that.

‘Why are you here, Dad?’

Brook opened the car door for her and introduced her to Wendy Jones. He didn’t register his colleague’s puzzled expression as she eyed Terri’s auburn hair. ‘Come on. I’ll take you for a Coke.’

The cafe on Brighton pier was dingy and the coffee was bitter and expensive. Terri twirled her ice around the bottom of her glass with a straw and Jones merely stared at the table.

When Terri stood to go to the toilet, he took his chance. ‘Wendy, I’ve got to have a word with Terri, in private. Do you mind?’

‘Not at all.’ She kept her eyes on the table. Her voice was clipped and formal but she’d dropped all pretence to acknowledge his rank. Something was wrong.

‘No please. Stay here in the warm. I need the air.’

‘Fine. Here comes Daddy’s special girl now.’

Brook’s hair stood on end his mouth fell open. Vicky. His heart sank as he realised his blunder. How could he have been so stupid? Vicky’s blonde hair. And Terri…

Brook swallowed a deep breath. He didn’t have time to wallow in the embarrassment. He had harder emotions to deal with.

‘Wendy…’

‘Please don’t call me that, sir.’

Brook nodded. Her anger made things easier. ‘I don’t have time to explain. I will later, if you want to listen.’ His cold tone gave Jones pause for thought but she still couldn’t look at him.

Brook stood as Terri returned to the table and escorted her outside.

‘Isn’t Constable Jones coming with us?’

‘Not just yet. I need a word.’ The wind swept in from the sea, cold and refreshing, and the pier was close to empty.

‘Terri.’

She stopped and turned back towards him, searching his face for an explanation. He looked suddenly serious and in pain as though he had a toothache. Something in her realised the reason for his visit and she looked away.

‘Terri. What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know what…’

‘You had something to tell me. Something you couldn’t say in front of your mum. What is it?’ She opened her mouth to speak but her expression caused Brook to dive in. ‘I want to know what’s going on between you and your stepfather. I want to know now.’

A cloud passed over Terri’s eyes as she sought the words to pacify her father, but they wouldn’t come. Instead she walked over to the rail and looked out over the foaming sea. Brook paced after her.

‘Terri, please. Talk to me.’

She looked up at him, then down at the boardwalk. ‘We’re in love.’

‘You’re what?’ Brook’s expression may have been uncomprehending but his heart was in the know. ‘Say that again.’

‘I love him, Dad. And he loves me.’

‘My God, you’re only fifteen, Terri!’

‘I’ll be sixteen in April.’

‘There are laws…’

‘The laws are like borders, Dad. They’re artificial constructs. There’s no…’

‘Did Tony tell you that?’

‘Dad, we’re in love. Deal with it.’

‘Deal with it?’ Brook stared, still processing the information. A million questions crowded in-questions which were noble in their concerns for others. What about your mother? What about the legal issues? How long has this been going on? But one question burned above all others. The visceral ache that no father of a daughter can deaden. The only question that matters.