Helen Phifer - The Face Behind the Mask

As he went out into the bright sunlight he squinted. His face was too white. He looked like a ghost at the best of times. He couldn’t afford to get sunburnt, though. Dean was already back in the van with the engine running. He was the complete opposite of Walter. Stevie was so tanned he looked like he’d just come back from three weeks in Tenerife.

Walter hadn’t any inclination to do what Stevie did and pose in the gym every day after work and then go lie on the sunbeds. Each to their own, he supposed. If he did that he’d be burnt to a crisp in no time. He climbed into the van, which smelt of greasy McDonald’s, and his stomach groaned loudly. Why was there food everywhere?

‘Bloody hell, Wally, have you eaten lately? You look like a walking ginger skeleton!’

He shook his head, no point in lying.

‘How are you going to do a day’s work shifting boxes and furniture without anything in your belly, lad? You’ll be no good to me if you pass out. Come on, I’ll go back to the drive-through and you can get something.’

‘Thanks, if that’s all right.’ He began to scrabble in his pockets to see what change he had and if he had enough to pay for a sausage and egg McMuffin. He pulled out his last crumpled five-pound note and hoped that after today’s job Jacko would pay him what he owed him for the last two weeks. Stevie drove back round the drive-through, ordering the full works including two lattes. Walter felt sick. He didn’t have enough to pay.

‘I’ve only got a fiver, mate.’

Stevie waved his hand away.

‘Someone’s got to look after your sorry arse. You either need to find a woman or a man – whatever floats your boat – to sort you out, mate. You can’t carry on like this. You look like some waif. This one is on me.’

He had to turn away for fear of Dean seeing the gratitude on his face and the tears in his eyes; no one ever did anything nice for him. He couldn’t remember the last time they had – definitely not since his gran had died two years ago anyway. He thought about the suffering she’d been through and then he thought about the woman he’d killed last night. He’d seen her coming out of the newsagent’s and recognised her. She went to the same hospice that his gran had. He didn’t know why he’d followed her home the night before; he just had.

That wasn’t strictly true, though, was it, Wally? The voice that belonged to the suit told you to. You stabbed her like she was nothing last night. How many times did you need to stick that knife into her? He shrugged his shoulders; he’d had to make sure she was dead, hadn’t he? He told the voice inside his head to shut up and took the bag of greasy food and the cardboard drinks carrier off Stevie.

As he bit into the hot, juicy muffin his stomach groaned in appreciation. He couldn’t help but wonder who the clown stuff in the box he’d found at the last house had actually belonged to. He didn’t have any internet or a decent mobile phone to try and search for some information. What he could do was go to the library at the weekend and do some digging there, maybe ask at the records office or use a computer there if he had a spare couple of quid to pay for it. It would be interesting to know more about the person it had belonged to. There was something so mesmerising about it.

When he’d pulled the costume out of the trunk there had been a wig and a big, black thing that went around your neck. He’d found a couple of black and white photographs in the bottom of the trunk, tucked into a faded yellow envelope. One was of a man sitting in a cage with three huge lions on his own; the other had been a small picture of three clowns – all different shapes and sizes.

He’d recognised the suit that he’d pulled out of the box. The clown wearing it had the strangest hair – just three tufts – and a huge red mouth. It was the kind of clown that would give anyone a phobia of clowns, not to mention nightmares. He didn’t imagine the kids who visited the circus would want much to do with him unless he was really funny and kind. Then again, if he’d been kind, why had he felt such overwhelming feelings when he’d tried the costume on? And then that rage towards the woman had been nothing like he’d ever known. It wasn’t as if he knew her and she’d upset him. It was as if someone else had taken over his body. Was that possible? He wondered if the clown suit was haunted. It might even be possessed.

Then he shook his head. He knew that the suit probably had nothing to do with it. The problem was him; it always had been. Dean started the engine, waking him from his daydream.

‘Right, that’s enough of me being nice to you to last for the rest of the week. Don’t you dare tell anyone. I don’t want them thinking I’m going soft in my old age. We’ve got a shithole of a house to empty today and Jacko wants it done by one ’cause he needs the van back, so you better be ready to work your arse off.’

He nodded; at least it would keep him busy for the next few hours. Take his mind off the guilt that was seeping into the cracks that were opening all over his already delicate mind.

Chapter Four

When Annie opened her eyes to see Alfie’s Moses basket empty her heart almost jumped from her chest. Then she realised that Will was no longer in the bed either. Reaching out for her phone she was surprised to see it was almost twenty to eight. How had that happened? She got up, pulling her dressing gown off the back of the chair and wrapping it around herself.

She went downstairs to the smell of grilling bacon. A small spark of anger flared inside her. Obviously Will had woken up hangover-free if he was making himself a bacon sandwich. By rights he should have a stinking hangover and be feeling as if he was dying. If it had been her who had consumed all that whisky on an empty stomach she probably would have died.

She walked into the kitchen to see Alfie strapped into his bouncer, which was balanced on top of the breakfast bar. Will was leaning down feeding him. Alfie was smiling and cooing at his dad and she felt her anger melt away. Damn, he did that to her every single time. She could never stay mad at him for long. He looked up and smiled at her. She was pleased to note it wasn’t his normal, ridiculously happy smile. Good, so he did have a conscience after all.

‘Morning, beautiful; I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’ve made us some bacon bagels and fresh coffee. I hope you’re not too mad at me.’

She inhaled then shook her head. ‘Well, I was until you mentioned the bagels. You know I’m a woman who likes her food.’

This time he did grin. ‘Alfie was hungry so I’ve given him his breakfast. Did you manage to get back to sleep?’

She considered telling him about her ridiculous fears that there was something wrong with Alfie’s bedroom and her dream about the white house, then stopped herself.

‘Yes, eventually. He wouldn’t settle in his own room. I think maybe we should move his cot in with us while he’s teething. It just makes it easier for me if he wakes up, and if you can’t sleep because of him you can always go into the spare room.’

She waited for him to give her a list of reasons why it was a bad idea, but he nodded.

‘I think you’re right. He’s so unsettled through the night; maybe it will be better for all of us. I’ll move his cot in when I get home. I have to go to work soon. Adele is picking me up on her way through to Barrow.’

Annie sat down on one of the high stools and bit into her bagel. Cream cheese squeezed out of the side and she wiped it with her finger then licked it.

‘Steady on, you’ll be getting me all excited.’

She laughed. ‘I wish. I mean how long is it since we’ve…’

A horn beeped outside the gate. Will turned to look out of the window and waved. ‘Well, maybe when I get home we might get a bit of time to ourselves.’