The Heights: A dark story of obsession and revenge. Juliet Bell
order how?’
She took a deep breath, afraid her inexperience was showing. ‘Sort of… well, legally. I need to establish why he’s moved in here and make sure everything’s above board. He’s what… six?’
‘Seven.’ Earnshaw pulled his chair back. ‘There’s papers.’
‘Right. Good. Papers are good.’
Mrs Earnshaw hadn’t spoken or even moved. Ellen gave her a tentative smile as Ray left the table. The woman’s face was stone.
Ray carefully opened a drawer in the dark wooden chest that dominated one wall of the tiny room.
‘A letter from his mother.’
Ellen unfolded the crumpled sheet, apparently torn from a notebook. The writing was wobbly and uneven, as if the writer wasn’t confident forming the letters, but the three short sentences were clear. Heathcliff’s mum couldn’t manage. She wanted him to live with Ray Earnshaw and his family. She didn’t want anyone else sticking their nose in. Ellen was doing just that, but if she didn’t she’d get no end of grief from her supervisor. Besides, it was the right thing to do. Someone had to make sure the kid was safe.
‘Right. Do you have a birth certificate or anything? To confirm that this is his mother. And whether there’s a father around.’
Mrs Earnshaw folded her arms.
Mr Earnshaw was quiet for a moment before he spoke. ‘I don’t. But you can get that, can’t you? Ring up the records place or what have you.’
Ellen nodded. She could. She made a note in her folder. ‘And he’s been registered with the school? As Heathcliff Earnshaw?’
‘That’s right’
Ellen heard the sharp intake of breath from the wife.
‘Could I see him?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘If he’s not in school.’
Mrs Earnshaw stood up, moving towards the door in a way that gave the distinct impression that Ellen’s visit was over. ‘He’s poorly.’
‘Right. It only needs to be for a second.’
Mr Earnshaw shook his head. ‘Shirley’s right. He were sick in the night. He’ll be asleep.’ He shrugged. ‘Can you come back another day?’
‘Right.’ Ellen hesitated. She was supposed to see the boy if she could. Another glance at the clock. He would normally be in school anyway, so she hadn’t really expected to see him. And her next case was across town. She already had another job from the Earnshaws to find the blessed birth certificate, so she had to come back. She shook her head. ‘That’ll be fine for now, I’m sure.’
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