Juliet Bell - The Heights - A dark story of obsession and revenge

She heaved a sigh of relief when Earnshaw closed the front door behind her. That poor kid wasn’t coming into a very welcoming household. She couldn’t imagine Shirley Earnshaw pulling some bastard kid to her warm embrace. Still, he had a roof over his head, and there’d be a meal on the table every night. The sound of voices drew her eyes to her parked car. Three teenagers were leaning against it – a boy and two girls. All three had cigarettes hanging from their mouths. It was hard to see past the make-up, but Ellen guessed the girls were not more than thirteen. Fourteen at most.

‘You all should be in school,’ she said as she approached, trying at the same time to appear firm and friendly.

‘What’s that got to do with you?’ the boy asked insolently. He slowly lifted himself away from the car. Taking a last drag on his cigarette, he stubbed it out on the faded red paint on her bonnet.

‘Sod off! You little shits.’ Her carefully cultivated demeanour vanished and the words were out before she could stop them.

The group ‘oooohed’ like an overexcited audience on TV, taking the mick out of her even as they strolled away.

Cathy sat on her step and watched Daddy walk into the back room and shut the door. She didn’t know what the straggly-haired woman wanted, but it was something to do with Heathcliff. Mick was at school. Or at least he was supposed to be at school. He was probably off with his mates somewhere getting into trouble. Cathy should have been at school too, but she’d said she had tummy ache. Her mum wasn’t paying much attention – she didn’t seem to pay attention to much any more – and had grunted that she could stay home. That was all Cathy needed to hear. School was boring. Heathcliff was staying at home today and he wasn’t boring at all.

Cathy ducked up the last couple of stairs and opened the door to Mick’s room. She wasn’t allowed in Mick’s room, but Mick wasn’t here. Heathcliff was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, his arms wrapped around his knees and his forehead resting on them. The foldout bed he was supposed to be sleeping on was covered with Mick’s stuff.

‘Did you sleep on the floor?’ she asked.

‘What do you care?’ Heathcliff raised his head. There was a bruise on his face.

‘Did Mick do that?’

Heathcliff shrugged.

‘I hate Mick,’ she declared.

‘I do too.’ The scowl on Heathcliff’s face softened a bit. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

Cathy shook her head. ‘We’d get in trouble.’

Heathcliff stood up. ‘I don’t like being stuck inside. Everything’s too small.’

Cathy looked around. That wasn’t true. Everything was normal-sized.

Heathcliff got up and walked to the bedroom window. He looked out and down, then shook his head. ‘This is no good,’ he muttered. ‘There’s no way out here.’

‘My room has a window too,’ Cathy offered.

Cathy’s room looked towards the exposed hillsides and moors behind the estate. There were no houses to be seen, only a couple of old warehouses from the mine, and the blue hills.

‘That’s where I want to go,’ Heathcliff told her.

‘Why?’

‘Cos it’s better than in here. It’ll be just us out there.’

She looked around. It was just them already. Well, apart from her parents downstairs. Maybe Heathcliff was right. It might be good to get away from them.

‘Come on.’ Heathcliff slid the window up as far as it would go. ‘We can jump.’

Cathy leaned past Heathcliff to look out of the window. There was a coal bunker underneath her window, built up against the kitchen wall. But it still looked like a pretty big drop. ‘It’s too far.’

Heathcliff laughed. ‘Well, I’m going.’

She watched him pull his scrawny body up onto the windowsill and stare down at the bunker and the ground beneath them. He was very still for a very long time. Cathy stamped her foot. ‘Get out of the way.’

‘What?’

She pulled him backwards onto the bed and climbed onto the sill. She swung her legs out through the window and screwed her eyes tight shut, before pushing off with her hands to lift her bottom over the frame. And then she was dropping. She landed on her feet on the coal bunker and tipped forward to her knees. She crawled forward. If Mummy or Daddy heard her and came out now she would be in so much trouble. At the edge of the coal bunker she stopped. The roof she was sitting on was about the height of a grown-up but there was a dustbin against the wall. She dropped onto that, and then onto the ground. She’d done it. She spun round. Heathcliff was still watching from the upstairs window. ‘Come on,’ she said in a loud whisper.

He hesitated.

‘Scaredy.’

‘What?’

‘You’re a scaredy.’

‘I’m not.’

‘I did it.’ She grinned. ‘You have to follow me.’

In the window, Heathcliff frowned, and then swung his legs over the ledge and jumped.

They ran past the old warehouses. There were people moving around inside, but nobody cared about a couple of kids bunking off. They stopped running when they reached the blue hills. Heathcliff looked around at the mounds of loose black rock, sparsely covered with grass.

‘What’s this?’

‘It’s from the mine. Everyone knows that,’ Cathy said.

Heathcliff grunted and walked off ahead of her. He was moving so fast, she almost had to run to catch up.

‘Come with me,’ she said and led him towards the tallest of the mounds.

They scrambled up the side, feeling the damp, loose rock sliding beneath their feet. When they got to the top, Cathy sat down on a patch of grass. It was wet, but better than sitting on rocks. Heathcliff didn’t seem to mind either way. He sat down next to her. They sat for a minute. From this angle, she couldn’t see the mine. And the town, in the distance, was almost pretty. After a while, Cathy looked across at Heathcliff. His eyes were wet.

‘You’re crying!’

‘Am not.’ He rubbed the back of his hand across his face.

‘Were too. S’all right. I cry sometimes. When Mummy and Daddy fight.’

‘My mam sent me away.’

He sounded so sad, sadder than anyone Cathy had ever known. She squeezed his hand. ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ she said. ‘I want you to stay for ever. I’ll never send you away.’

He turned towards her. ‘Promise?’

Cathy nodded seriously. ‘I promise.’

Chapter Four

January, 1983

Shirley Earnshaw paused on the steps of the Methodist Hall and undid her headscarf, patting her hair into place before she pushed open the door. She took a deep breath and steeled herself for what she knew was coming. It was five years since Ray had brought that boy back from Liverpool. Surely these women had gossiped enough by now. But as soon as she walked in the door, the looks would start, and they’d be whispering behind her back.

She wasn’t that keen on coming here anyway, but the old priest, Father Brian, was very big on the churches working together. At least that’s what he said. Shirley fancied he was actually keen on getting as much work as possible shifted onto someone else. He was retiring soon. The new priest, Father Joseph, had already arrived. He was a different kettle of fish. He’d preached the sermon last Sunday. All about the devil and the wages of sin. Shirley had a feeling that when Father Joseph took over the parish, there’d be no more mixing with the Protestants. Anyway, today the Young Wives were meeting up with the Methodist Ladies Fellowship for a talk from the new Methodist chap about missions.

The hall was more modern than the room the Young Wives met in, and bigger, with half-peeling lines stuck on the floor for badminton. There was a table laid for morning tea at the far end of the room, and a queue forming by the urn. As Shirley approached, she saw a few swift glances sent her way. She ignored them, and accepted a cup of tea, in a green cup. It was weak. Shirley usually did the teas at St Mary’s. She would never have served up pale brown water, not if they had visitors coming. She found a seat next to Gloria. Gloria had been coming to Young Wives since the fifties. Her daughter-in-law sometimes came now as well. That was fine. So long as Gloria was there, Shirley still counted one of the young ones.