Page 79 of The Cut
‘Who is that?’ Ben’s eyes strained against the burning lamps.307
‘Look at me … tell me what happened. You need to say it, Ben.’
The well-prepared words tumbled out of Ben’s mouth. ‘Patel confessed, he served his time, he tried to attack me after his parole, the case is closed.’ He snatched a breath.
‘But we both know that’s not quite true. You know that I was filming you that night, on Patel’s camera. I saw everything. And you know that … because you stole the camera from me.’
Max turned to the figure lurking behind him and nodded. The vast stone wall of the mill was suddenly illuminated in a bright glare. A projector from inside the transit van parked up by the gate beamed a shaft of light on to the stonework, in a perfect rectangle the size of a large cinema screen.
A football match sprawled out over the mill wall: his daughter, Lily, moving at speed across a field, trips and falls. Heavy boots kicking her in the ribs. Nate cradling her bleeding head in his arms. Next, that same boy walking down The Cut, violently struck down by a gang of boys with baseball bats, blood everywhere.
Ben covered his mouth to stem the sob building in his throat.
A sea of blood had flooded the image now, reflecting a universe of glittering stars that turned into the green of an iris edged with thick lashes. The eye blinked, and a single tear of blood fell on to clear white skin as the frightened girl ran through a forest. A monster rising from the earth, soaked in mud, gave chase. As she turned to look back in terror, the face of his daughter Lily burst on to the screen.
Ben stood slowly and moved closer to the projection.
The film became faster now, and more violent: a fairground and the Mouth of Hell, hands and arms reaching out, the face of his son as he choked, gasping for air.
Ben covered his ears to the sounds of his children screaming in pain. He moved closer still as the fire started to rage and the308flames from the projection licked up his spine. The furnace dissolved into fireworks and then to a vision in white.
There she was, on the screen, fifty feet high, immortalised forever. The film eased to fifty frames per second as she turned and turned, her long white neck and perfect skin like poetry in slow motion. Her arms swept up high above her as sunshine through the windows flared across the lens, bathing her head in a halo, like the angel she was. It was a masterpiece.
Ben stood still, barely breathing. Nobody moved as the face of Annabel Maddock turned to the camera and smiled.
Ben spun back to Max. He couldn’t bear to look at her. Tears were streaming down his cheeks as her face was projected on to his.
‘What have you done to them? Where are my children?’
A motorbike engine roared from across the meadow, and a dazzling headlamp lit up his face. He watched the rider in the black helmet plough across the flooded plane, water spraying up on both sides. The camera was strung on her back, one hand balancing the lens, one hand steering. The bike charged directly towards Ben at speed as he cowered back towards the wall, his hand over his eyes. As it came to a stop, the bike fell from between her legs and, without breaking the shot, Karine Mickelsen strode forward towards Ben, the lens close on his face.
‘Hey.’ Max matched her speed and pincered around to the riverside. ‘Hey, over here. Look at me, Ben.’ Ben’s eyes flicked to Karine, then to Max. Panting heavily, she instinctively moved alongside him, using Max as her ‘grip’, keeping Ben’s eye line directly into the lens.
Max tried to keep his voice steady. ‘How does the story end, Ben?’
‘Is that what this is?’ Ben was shaking now, drenched from the rain and trembling with rage.309
‘You’re the only one who knows. So, what’s it gonna be?’ Max stopped and grabbed Karine by the sleeve, pulling her tighter into Ben’s POV. He whispered in her ear, ‘Get in close.’
Ben closed his eyes, as if willing the ground to swallow him up. Then he turned to Karine, glaring into the lens, and violently lashed out towards her, fingers grabbing for the camera. ‘Give it to me.’
‘Yeah, Ben, just like that, remember?’ Max stepped in front of him. ‘Remember that night when you chased me down to steal Patel’s camera?’ Max began to walk backwards, not taking his eyes off Ben. ‘Because you knew what was on it, didn’t you?’ He was baiting him. ‘You knew I had the evidence on that tape.’
Ben lurched forward again, like a cobra striking out at its prey. Karine stumbled backwards but held her nerve.
‘That’s right … Come on, Ben.’ Max goaded him, drawing him out towards the bank of the river. ‘Come after me like you did after Annie.’
In a sudden burst of fury, Ben lurched again towards the lens. Max stumbled back and guided Karine by the arm as they turned and sprinted away, luring him out towards the weir.310
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Annie daren’t look back as she clambers on to the low wall of the mill race, her clothes heavy with water. She stumbles, dropping herself down over the ledge to hide from him. The water is inches from her feet as she balances on the edge of the deep reservoir, straddling the cleft in the stone where Davis and Patel had hacked away at the brick. Chunks of mortar crumble under her feet as the flood widens the gap. She braces herself against the wall then edges further out towards the wheel. She waits intently, listening for footsteps, trying to conceal herself from him. She steals a glance over her shoulder to see if Ben has discovered her hiding place. Cutting through the noise of the wind and rain, the growl of a motorbike engine fills her with hope: Dave’s here. The beam of a headlamp pans across the darkness like a search light, blinding her. She turns her head away and presses it into the stonework.
Crouched low by the side wall of the reservoir, she waits. The wind is starting to gust harder now, her face is stung and whipped by the driving rain. She can’t go back. She looks up to the water wheel, straining with the building pressure of the flood on its rusty axis. Maybe there is a way over? If she can just get to the other side, she can reach the road bridge and make her escape. Her hands reach to grip the ledge and she hoists herself up.
*
