Soul Protector (Soul Protector Series) Page 7

  When he was sober, he was full of remorse and tried to compensate for all the hurt he’d caused. But the sober times were few and far between. And when he was drunk, he was violent. I even heard him attacking Mum sometimes, and as desperate as we were to help, Michelle and I used to stay in our bedroom, too terrified to move.

  I absentmindedly stroked the scar high up on my left cheekbone. One Saturday lunchtime when I was about seven, Dad had asked me to find his other shoe. He wanted to go down the pub because he’d drunk every last drop of alcohol in the house. I’d frantically searched everywhere, but after drawing a blank, I’d asked Michelle to help. Aware of the consequences, even at that young age, she’d desperately checked every cubby hole and dark corner for me, but the shoe couldn’t be found and we’d had to concede defeat. Michelle came and stood next to me as, shaking, I had to tell Dad I’d failed. True to form he’d gone bright red with rage and, eyes blazing, he chucked the other shoe at my head.

  “Stupid girl tripped and knocked herself on the fire surround,” he roared when Mum came running in to see what the commotion was.

  We knew better than to contradict him. As Mum leant down to study my cut, he turned the full force of his rage onto her and launched into another beating. I’d felt guilty for a long time over that one.

  I heard the distinctive noise of a cork being extracted from a bottle of wine, and snapped out of my daydream.

  “One for you?” Terry asked, waving a bottle of Merlot in my direction.

  “Erm, no thanks, I’m driving. So, how’s the house renovation going, Terry?”

  “Oh, the usual,” he said, topping up Mum’s glass. “There’s plaster dust everywhere. I even found some in the butter dish yesterday!”

  “No wonder you like spending so much time over here,” I said, laughing.

  “I just hope she doesn’t get fed up with me.” He turned to Mum and gave her a sincere look.

  “Never,” she said and smiled shyly before leaning across to give him a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Eww, guys do you have to?”

  “Sorry,” said Mum, “but he’s irresistible.”

  I pulled a face at them both, but deep down it made me happy to see his affection for her.

  During her time with Dad, Mum frequently had to go to hospital for medical attention, while he either legged it, or was taken into police custody for questioning. On those occasions we stayed with Nancy, our next-door neighbour. A sweet widow, her children had long flown the nest. She used to take us in and we would bake cakes or read stories together. But whenever I caught her giving me sideways looks, even at that young age, I couldn’t mistake the pity in her eyes.

  I knew Mum and Dad’s relationship was wrong. Each time Dad would come crawling back with flowers, chocolates and promises that it would never happen again, and for awhile things would be okay. Mum’s bruises would fade and she’d start to let her guard down again, daring to hope that things would be different this time. But sure enough, sooner or later he would fall back into his old ways, and the pattern would repeat itself.

  I helped myself to some more roast potatoes, sighing at the memories.

  Mum cleared her throat. “Gracie, we have some news,” she announced, shooting a quick look at Terry. “We hope you’ll be pleased.”

  I paused, holding the serving spoon in mid-air.

  “Terry is going to move in here with me at the end of the month.”

  I dropped the spoon and it clattered into the dish.

  “Wow. That’s fast.”

  Mum and Terry both flinched at my reaction.

  “But it’s great news,” I added quickly, trying to improve on my statement. “I’m really happy for you both.”

  I jumped up and hugged them both. And this time I meant it. Mum deserved this.

  On one occasion, when I was eight years old and Michelle was five, Dad beat Mum so badly, she nearly died. She had nine broken bones, a punctured, collapsed lung, and a serious concussion. Within seconds of Dad scarpering, Michelle and I braved it out of our bedrooms to be met with Mum’s lifeless, bloody body sprawled in the hall.

  I rang 999 and managed to stutter my way through our address, before crouching down and holding Mum’s hand until help arrived. Michelle sobbed silently by my side, while the image in front of us burnt its way into our memories.

  Within minutes our cul-de-sac had been awash with the flashing blue lights of police and paramedics. There was a frenzy of action as the crew lifted Mum onto a stretcher and whisked her into the back of their vehicle, assuring us they would take good care of her. Nancy had squeezed Michelle and me tightly to her, as she gently manoeuvred us away from the spectacle and into her house.

  It took Mum months to recover, but when she did, she had changed. She was stronger. All that time away from him had done her the world of good. It wasn’t just her body that had healed, her self-esteem was back too. She wasn’t going to be his punch bag anymore and so for the first time ever, she co-operated with the police and pressed charges against him.

  Dad went to jail and when he came out there was a restraining order forbidding him to go anywhere near us, or our house. Just to make sure we were completely safe, we moved two hundred miles south to Croydon, only telling a handful of trusted friends and family. I was sad to be leaving Nancy, but I understood why we had to go.

  Mum thrived away from Dad, and found her vocation counselling other victims of domestic abuse. Even so, I guess she would never have felt totally free of him, but just eight weeks after he was released from prison he got knocked down whilst drunk and never recovered from his injuries.

  Terry popped into the kitchen, and reappeared with a trifle. Mum arranged three dessert bowls in front of the dish and handed him the serving spoon. As I watched the two of them together, I smiled. Things were getting better all the time for Mum.

  CHAPTER 8

  .

  The Office

  .

  On the Friday, when I got home from Elevate, I knew there was no time to waste. Dan had seen me at my worst and now he was going to see me at my best.

  I got in the shower and set to work. I exfoliated my skin to within an inch of its life. Then I removed any fuzz that needing removing. I washed my hair and used one of those sachets of deep conditioning treatments to try and control the frizz my locks fought so hard to retain.

  After my shower I took the lid off the expensive moisturiser that I’d been saving for a worthy occasion, and completely smothered myself in it. I plucked my eyebrows, carefully applied my make-up, adding a bit more eye-liner than normal for extra definition. I blow dried my hair and curled it, a la Lydia, and spritzed my favourite perfume all over.

  I started to feel a bit more confident, and turned my attention to the wardrobe. I still hadn’t decided what I was going to wear. I didn’t want to over-do it, so I set about finding something amazing, yet understated.

  After deliberating for an eternity, I decided it had to be black. I settled for the one pair of jeans that made me look slim, a black top and my grey jacket. I took inspiration from Lydia, and added a scarf. When I stood back to look at myself, I actually felt quite pleased with my reflection.

  I put on my high-heeled boots, and quickly took them off again, replacing them with a moderately heeled pair instead – I didn’t want to ruin the evening by being in agony. Last time I saw Dan, I couldn’t give him my full attention. This time I intended to.

  As I thought about him, I felt the butterflies whip up inside my stomach. I poured myself a large glass of Pinot Grigio, sat on the sofa and waited.

  Dan was due at seven, and by time the hour arrived I couldn’t stop fidgeting. I took some deep breaths to try and calm down while I got things into perspective. It wasn’t a date; he was just taking me to get registered at this office place. A formality, that was all. But I couldn’t help feeling excited at the thought of seeing him again. In my head I had rehearsed how I would act when he arrived, what I would say and how I would smile. I knew h
e was out of my league, but you couldn’t blame a girl for trying.

  I checked my watch again at ten minutes past. It didn’t surprise me he hadn’t arrived, nobody ever turned up at the time they said they would. Ten minutes was nothing. I went over my welcome again, perfecting the smile and the playing-it-cool bit, and took a large sip of wine.

  At half-past seven, I couldn’t help wondering if my watch was fast. I popped into the kitchen and checked the time on the oven. It was the same.

  By eight o’clock, I’d emptied my glass and knew my lines off by heart. But the buzz had left me. It was replaced by a heavy feeling of disappointment. He wasn’t coming. I knew it. Why hadn’t he phoned to cancel? I had him down as the solid, reliable type. Well it just proved you never could tell.

  I picked up my empty wine glass and plodded through to the kitchen, dumping it next to the sink. I let out a sigh, and leant back on the work surface, staring out the window at the street lights. What to do, Gracie? I felt lethargic and restless at the same time.

  I needed to feel better and as I glanced towards the fridge I knew what would help. I reached inside and brought out my emergency bar of chocolate. I peeled back the foil, snapped off a row of four squares and shoved them straight in my mouth.

  It was a bit ambitious and I couldn’t close my lips properly. Too hard to bite, I had to just suck until it was more pliable. Gradually, as it melted on my tongue, the lovely chocolate flavour overwhelmed my taste buds, my disappointment forgotten for a heavenly moment. I slurped as some of the melted chocolate dribbled down my chin.

  A harsh rapping at the door snapped me out of the moment. There’d been no buzz from the intercom, so I guessed it must be one of the residents. Mrs Logan had more than likely locked herself out again. It happened so often, she’d given all the neighbours a spare key. I swallowed the last of my mouthful, popping the chocolate bar back in the fridge, and wandered over to the door.

  I pulled down the handle, set my gaze to about four foot eleven where Mrs Logan would be, and had to tilt my head to six foot one, to be met by Dan. He was wearing the monitor outfit again.

  “Gracie, I’m sorry. I know I’m late, but I couldn’t help it. I got called on another shout.”

  I was pleased he had the decency to look apologetic. But I didn’t want to rush in and forgive him.

  “You could’ve rung and let me know. I’ve been stuck in waiting for you.” Like I’d had anything better to do.

  “I would’ve called if I could. I felt bad letting you down, but there wasn’t any time. The CSPs were spotted again. The Soul Protector who called in said they were in a disused warehouse, but they obviously found out we were coming. By the time we got there, they’d gone.”

  I was annoyed to see a smile playing on his lips.

  “Anyway, it appears you found something to occupy yourself with while you waited.”

  “Huh?”

  “Chocolate.” He pointed at me and made a circle sign with this finger. “You’ve got it all round your mouth.”

  I quickly raised my hand to rub off the evidence. As I wiped, I couldn’t help giggling. “Oh damn, guess I’m busted.”

  “That’s better. Couldn’t take you to the office looking like Coco the Clown, could I?”

  “Oh, we’re still going? I thought it might be too late.”

  “No, they’re expecting us. Anyway, it’s a twenty-four hour operation. Never closes.”

  He paused for a moment, and the way he looked at me made my insides melt. I felt the heat start to creep up my face.

  “You curled your hair.”

  “Oh… I just fancied a change.”

  “It looks really pretty.”

  I felt my blush so intensely, I was sure I looked like a beetroot. I didn’t know what to do, so I ruined the moment by bursting out with laughter.

  “What?” Dan pulled a face.

  “Nothing, sorry, I’m just rubbish at accepting compliments”

  He studied me for a couple of seconds, before grinning and shaking his head.

  ”Right, we need to go young lady. Are you ready?”

  “Of course,” I said, grabbing my bag. “Take me to your leader.”

  As Dan led me outside, I was drawn to a sporty looking Jaguar sat in the parking area.

  Dan flicked his key fob, and the Jag flashed its lights at us.

  “This one?”

  “Well, it’s not really mine, it’s a company car.”

  “Some company.”

  As Dan pulled out onto the road, I had a question that had been bugging me. “Dan, did you ring in sick for me yesterday?”

  “No, not me personally, I phoned the Office and asked one of the SPs to do it for you.”

  “Oh, thanks. How did they know where I worked though?”

  He turned towards me and raised his eyebrows. “They have access to pretty much everything.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they’ve got contacts everywhere. SPs work for the Police, the Government, the hospitals... They’ve got access to all sorts of private files and information, which is fed back through the Office. It comes in really handy.”

  This place was sounding more and more sophisticated.

  ~

  After driving North up the M1 for about half an hour, Dan turned off the motorway. With the metropolis way behind us, all I could see lit up in the headlights were fields and trees.

  “Not long now,” said Dan, turning onto a single-track road.

  I wasn’t sure where I expected the Office to be, but I never imagined it would be in the middle of nowhere.

  “It’s quite a commute,” I said, squinting through the darkness towards some old stone structures which looked like derelict farm buildings.

  “It’s not too bad. This is it.”

  I looked beyond the old buildings for something that vaguely resembled a place of work. “Here? You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, this is definitely it,” he said, driving down a steep dip.

  We came to a standstill, facing head on to an old stone wall covered in ivy. Dan pressed a button and his window dropped down. He leaned out the car and spoke to the wall.

  “Dan Sullivan with the new registration. All clear.”

  “Good evening, Dan,” a smooth female voice answered back. I looked around to see where it had come from, but there was nothing obvious.

  To my amazement, a zigzag pattern began to appear in the centre of the wall. The black lines quickly became bigger, until a gap formed, and then both halves of the wall slid into the mud bank. Ahead of us was a long tunnel, with low level lighting on either side.

  My jaw dropped briefly, and I snapped it shut again as Dan manoeuvred the car through the darkness.

  I turned to watch the stone wall shut behind us, but it was already closed.

  “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I know I wasn’t expecting that.” I said.

  “Quite cool, huh?” I could just make out the white of Dan’s teeth as he spoke.

  I faced forwards again and squinted to try and get some bearings. As I peered through the dimly lit space, I saw the underground car park ahead. There were roughly forty vehicles parked, with spaces for about another hundred.

  Dan pulled up in a reserved space, and we both jumped out.

  He walked round to my side and I felt the familiar shivery sensation as he got close.

  “Gracie, once we’re doing the registration bit, I think it would be better if you let me do the talking.”

  “Why? What’s going to happen?”

  “Nothing much, it’s just easier if I answer the questions. I know exactly what they’ll want to hear.”

  “Oh God, who are they. They’re starting to sound scary.”

  “They are nothing to worry about. They’re called Soulfellows. You’ve probably heard of them? They’re the guys who control the whole SP organisation.”

  I thought for a moment… Soulfellows. The name did ring a bell, but I couldn’t pin down the reason
why. After a few moments, it came to me.

  “Yes, yes, I have heard of them. Aren’t they a secret society like the Masons?”

  “Sort of, but it’s a lot harder to get in,” he said.

  “Because you also have to be a Soul Protector?”

  He nodded. “And they’re not that scary,” he carried on, “it’s just easier if they believe you stuck to the rules. They don’t like it if they think they’ve got a maverick on their watch.”

  “Me, a maverick? Well there’s a first.” I couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit proud he thought of me like that.

  We came to a standstill outside a glass screen. There was an image of a hand etched into the glass and Dan placed his palm on it to match the outline. The screen opened and we walked through the gap. I was amazed at what I saw.

  The whole place was a hive of activity. It was a huge open-plan space, with glass panelled rooms off to one side, and solid-framed rooms opposite them. Along the back wall were giant screens displaying technical data, and what looked like live-streaming from various locations.

  In the open-plan area, there were dozens of desks and people sat tapping away furiously at computers while others walked around with little mouth pieces on, their footsteps clicking on the tiled surface as they spoke to some anonymous person in a different location.

  I stood still, trying to take it all in.

  “How can all this be going on in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Welcome to the Office,” said Dan. “I’m guessing it’s not quite the tin pot operation you were expecting?”

  “Uh no, it’s the opposite of what I was expecting. Now tell me, is your boss sat in a private room somewhere with a fluffy white cat on his lap?”

  Dan chuckled.

  I carried on gazing around me at all the activity. “Is this the only Office or are there more?”

  “There’s a few more. Every continent has its own Office. This one is European Operations, but the main HQ is in Los Angeles.”

  “Blimey, Dan, how many SPs are there?”