Helen Phifer - The Face Behind the Mask

As he said his name, Gordy smiled at the image of Colin that had filled his mind – a very different picture to the one standing in front of him. He wondered if the boy would cry when he stuck his sharp knife into him and decided that, yes, he probably would, a lot. Then there was the fact that Colin didn’t look like a normal, spotty, weedy teenager. He was tall and stocky; he was probably strong as well. He would have to be quick when he did it because if Colin decided to put up a fight, Gordy didn’t know if he would be the one to come out of it alive.

Chapter Five

Annie strapped Alfie into his car seat, put his changing bag on the seat next to him and then got into the driver’s side. She loved this car more than words could say. She’d never thought another car would replace her beloved red convertible mini, but after writing it off in an accident that had left her in a coma for a couple of days last year she’d had no other choice.

Will spoilt her; there was no doubt about it and it was nice that he did. It was reassuring knowing that he had more than enough money in the bank to cover the household bills and take them on holidays without having to scrimp and scrape like she’d had to when she was married to Mike.

She could live with the occasional treat from Will because she made sure she never asked for anything, preferring to earn her own money to buy what she needed. She didn’t care if she wore Primark sunglasses or Dior; as long as they did the job it didn’t matter, although the one thing she wouldn’t compromise on was her perfume. It always had been and always would be Chanel.

Turning to check Alfie was okay before leaving, she smiled at him when he stretched his chubby hand out towards her. She blew him a kiss then turned back and drove away from her house. Since her niece, Matilda, had gone missing, she hadn’t really had any visitors from the other side, which had been nice. Having a baby had taken up so much of her time, though, that she’d hardly even noticed.

As much as she wanted to help them, it still scared her every single time one put in an appearance. She’d spent the first thirty-one years of her life oblivious to the fact that the spirit world existed. Then, after that fateful night when her now-dead husband had tried to kill her, she’d woken up in the hospital with a huge wound on the back of her head and a new-found skill as a psychic.

As she took the narrow twisting road towards the car ferry to Bowness, she wondered how Will was getting on and if his hangover had kicked in yet. Adele had seemed nice and, if she was happily married with kids, surely she wouldn’t be interested in Will. Still, Annie couldn’t help worrying. The seeds of self-doubt that Mike had planted inside her during their marriage had left her with very little confidence in herself.

She knew she was being stupid; yes, Will had had quite a reputation for womanising before they got together, but he’d changed. They’d been through so much and, now they had Alfie, he wouldn’t do anything stupid to risk jeopardising their marriage. She needed to stop worrying so much.

The ferry was quiet and before long she was loaded on to it and paying her money. As they reached the other side she drove off, relieved to be back on dry land. No matter how many times she used, it the thought of its sinking always lingered in her mind. Even though it was only early, Bowness was starting to get busy. The obligatory coach full of Japanese tourists had debarked at the pier for the Lake cruises.

Annie smiled to herself. Passing the coffee shop where Gustav – her favourite barista – worked, she wondered if she should park up and pay him a visit; but a car pulled into the last parking space and she decided that maybe she would stop on her way home instead.

Driving up the steep hill, she passed the police station – her police station – which was now up for sale. All the staff now started and finished at Kendal, which was a pain in the arse. Jake had moaned about it for months, blaming her for making him transfer here from Barrow. The church came into view and Annie let out a small whoop of delight to see a parking space right in front of it. High five to Jesus or God.

She pulled in, then got out, taking Alfie, who was now fast asleep, from his seat. She decided to carry him to the rectory because she couldn’t be bothered getting his pram out. She walked through the gorgeous garden, which was John’s pride and joy, to the front door and knocked on it as loud as she could. It was a big house and – once a copper always a copper – she hated wasting time knocking on doors while at work so would always hammer on them. Disappointed that there was no sound of footsteps on the parquet flooring inside, she felt her shoulders deflate. She should have phoned to see if he was in. Shit. As she turned to walk back to her car, a voice shouted across the small wall that bordered the church and the rectory.

‘Is that Annie Graham I see before me in the flesh? What a sight for my failing old eyes. It’s been far too long.’

With much more spring in his step than Annie had, he briskly walked across to the wall and jumped over it. Father John was in his late sixties, but he was fitter than most men half his age. He pulled her to him, careful not to squash Alfie, and hugged her as best he could. He placed a kiss on her cheek. She grinned.

‘You look younger every time I see you, John. Have you got a fountain of youth tucked away inside the baptism font?’

‘Ah, I wish. I would be a much richer man than I am now. A humble servant of God relies on his faith and a little help from cheap moisturising cream.’

Annie laughed.

‘So what you brings you here, or am I lucky enough to be having a social visit?’

He raised one eyebrow and she felt bad. She’d dragged him into too much stuff the last couple of years and not once had he berated her for it.

‘I’m looking for cake, if I’m being honest with you, and of course I wanted a hug from my very favourite priest in the world.’

***

John didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were searching out the corner of the churchyard behind him where they had buried the bones of one Betsy Baker; but he didn’t want to push her. She would open up and tell him what was bothering her in her own time.

‘Well, if that’s the case, come inside my house. I have a huge Victoria sponge cake that I’ve done my best to eat all on my own, but am failing miserably. Not to mention fresh coffee. Admit it, Annie Graham, you only came for the coffee.’

She pulled a face and he laughed.

‘Sorry, I can’t help it. You’re so adorable to tease and there aren’t many women around here that I get the chance to be myself with, if you know what I mean. The ladies of the flower arranging club are still as bad as ever. It gets a bit embarrassing listening to them fighting over me like I’m a piece of meat.’

‘You’re so awful. Sometimes I find it hard to believe you’re actually a priest. I often wonder if you just blagged your way into the priesthood.’

He clasped his hand to his heart, feigning a heart attack and pretended to stumble back. ‘Why don’t you just take my Bible, beat me around the head with it and be done with it?’

She laughed and his eyes lit up. There was nothing better than hearing this lovely, brave, amazing woman chuckle like a schoolgirl. His job was done; he could quit the fooling around now.

‘Come on, don’t you go telling that to the Bishop. I’ll buy your silence with a big slice of cream cake and a cappuccino.’

***

He led the way up the steps and she followed him. Alfie was still asleep and getting heavier by the minute. John opened the door and she walked inside. He pointed to the lounge.

‘Why don’t you go and lay your young man on the sofa and I’ll bring a tray through for us? We can be civilised for a change instead of slumming it at the kitchen table.’