“Mr. Fox? Hello, this is Liz. Joe will be allowed to leave the hospital tomorrow morning. He’s recovered very quickly. He’ll have some medication to take, of course… Sorry? …. Wendy Thompson? That’s fine. I was just wondering whether I could let that girl, Rhiannon, come back with you. Very short term, I can assure you. I can understand if you don’t…oh good…. I’m going to be fostering her, but I just need some time to get stuff sorted out – accommodation and stuff…. That’s great. Thank you so much…Right, bye now.”
That night, she was hustling and bustling around her apartment, getting out ingredients for a dinner and adding them to her pots and pans. She had the radio on and danced around the kitchen singing to cheesy seventies songs. When the news came on, she started speaking out loud to herself; she often spoke nonsense to herself – a result of living alone too long. “Three chopped carrots... This is finally going to be a time where I can finally make amends with Helen... 1 white onion... I don’t know why we fell out in the first place...boil courgettes for 10 minutes.... something to do with that idiot, Karl.”
There were three solid knocks on the door to her apartment.
“It’s open,” she called through her apartment. The door slowly creaked open. “You’re very early! Come on through, I’m in the kitchen,” she shouted to her dinner guests. Liz bent down and looked in the oven to see whether her sponge cake was ready.
As she stood up again a knife was put at her throat. Liz tensed up and began to breathe rapid and jerky gasps. She saw the reflection of the knife holder in one of her pans that hung above the oven. The knife was well made and recently sharpened. The end of the handle, that Liz could just see, had been sculpted into what looked like the head of a kestrel. The owner of the knife was a woman. She had very orange hair with a blonde streak at the front, and beautiful blue eyes. But she had an evil smirk on her face.
“C...can...I h...help...y...y...you?” Liz stuttered. The woman laughed. Liz smelt the disgusting odour of a burning cigarette, and cringed. Usually she would complain, but circumstances being as they were she decided against it.
“You have something I need. Something I need to get my revenge.” The woman had an American accent.
“But I don’t know you. How have I hurt you? Why do you need to kill me?”
“I don’t need to kill you. And you’re not the victim of my vengeance, just a tool. You know something that I need to know.”
“What do you want?” Liz asked scared and quickly.
“Where does Joe Fox live?” the woman asked.
“I can’t tell you that! Patient confidentiality!”
“Trust me, babes. You have more pressing matters at the moment than patient confidentiality. Got religion?”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just tell me where Joe lives and this awful nightmare will be over.”
“You’ll…you’ll leave?”
“Yes.”
Liz swallowed and shut her eyes. Tim and Joe would understand, wouldn’t they? She had no other choice. Her mind ran at a million miles an hour as debates and circumstances battled. “Fox Hall,” she eventually said, and immediately hated herself. She had betrayed the trust of her patients and herself.
“Fox Hall? That figures.” The woman sounded disappointed with herself. “Which Dimension?”
“This one. Please, will you go now? I promise, I won’t call anyone.”
“Thanks, babe. You’ve been a great help.” Liz relaxed. “But I can’t trust you. Not after you so readily betrayed the trust of your patients,” the woman smirked.
Liz’s tortured soul took a kick at itself, and Liz moaned. “No! Please, you can’t! Please. I’m begging you!” A surge of pain shot through Liz. She choked on her breath and her useless pleas. She looked down at her abdomen. Blood stained her new lilac top. Pain swept through her again as the mystery woman jerked her dagger out of Liz’s dying body. Liz stumbled back and fell against her cooker. Doing so, she knocked into a boiling pot of water and courgettes. The water scolded her back and she screamed out in pain. Swiftly, the orange-haired women cut her throat, with a single slash. Liz’s scream lasted but a second.
The woman smiled. “Sorry babe. Gotta run. I’ll give your regards to Joe.” She blew a kiss to Liz’s still, white corpse and walked out of the apartment as though nothing had happened.
Both Joe and Rhiannon had been discharged from hospital early the next morning and had been picked up by Wendy as arranged. Wendy sorted out the drugs that Joe was prescribed and they set off. “I’m sorry it’s only me here to pick you up,” Wendy was saying. “Your dad’s snowed under with this wedding and Judith hasn’t left the site in weeks.”
“I don’t mind that it’s you. You’re less embarrassing than Dad anyway!”
“That’s good to know!” Wendy laughed.
“What’s wrong with Judith?”
“A lot’s happened to her in the five weeks you’ve been in hospital. Her niece did some work experience with me for a week or so, but when Judith drove Nicole back home, well, Nicole’s family had died in a fire. It’s really tragic. Nicole’s not said a word since and Judith’s trying to be cheerful, bless her. Just be careful with Nicole, though, when you meet her. She’s very fragile.”
“That’s awful!” Joe exclaimed. Rhiannon was silent. Hearing Nicole’s tragedy had unlocked memories of her own loss. But Rhiannon buttoned them up again. That was, after all, how she dealt with grief and sadness.
“So, what do you want to be when you leave school?” Rhiannon asked Joe, trying to move the conversation quickly.
“I really don’t know. My dad knows what he wants me to be, but I don’t know what I would like to do. You?”
“A lawyer. I want to bring justice to the world. Keep the bad guys away in prison, away from the good people in society who suffer at their evil hands. It’s something I’ve recently been really passionate about. Anyway, what does your father want you to be?”
“A Dimension Guardian. He’s retired now and wants me to replace him.”
“Dimension Guardian?”
Joe’s eyes met Wendy’s in the rear-view mirror. She was looking sharply at him. His father had warned him on several occasions never to mention Dimension Guardians to anyone. It was far too dangerous. “Is that like a secret agent or something?” Rhiannon laughed.
Joe’s mouth was dry. His mind was actually a blank. His eyes stayed transfixed on Wendy’s. Finally, Wendy spoke for him. “It’s a security guard for those new Dimension Portals that are springing about all over the place. Dimension Guardian is more in the executive areas of the companies.”
“Why does your dad want you to do that?” Rhiannon asked, addressing Joe again.
“He used to do it,” Joe replied, still watching Wendy. “He thinks it’s important for character building and stuff.” Joe turned his head to Rhiannon. He felt like a total fraud, lying like this. “But I don’t want to do that. I still haven’t decided what I want to do. Just not that.”
Rhiannon suspected something. Both Joe and Wendy were acting rather suspiciously. “Right. So, what does your mum do?”
“My mum’s dead,” Joe replied simply.
“Oh God! I’m so sorry.” Rhiannon felt incredibly overwhelmed with all the death of family around her. Her parents, the girl Nicole’s parents, and now Joe’s mother. She suddenly felt like she was attending a convention of orphans. “When?”
“Eight years ago. When I was six.”
There was a silence. Awkwardness seemed to enter all of their conversations. “Have you heard of Naomi Bretason?” Wendy asked.
“Yeah, I love her music! I have a CD at home! I don’t care if she’s old school; she rocks!”
“Well, she’s Joe’s mother.”
Rhiannon’s jaw dropped as she looked at Joe, who shied away like a nervous pony. “You are kidding me!” she announced shrilly, even though she did not seem a particularly shrill person. Joe shook his head, Wendy wasn’t kidding. It was the truth, and despite the number of times he’d dealt with this reaction, it was never any easier to handle. “You do look like her,” Rhiannon said, studying and analysing Joe’s face. “Can you sing too?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never really done anything like that before.”
“Well, sing now! And I’ll judge!”
Joe was amazed at how girly Rhiannon had become at the name of his mother. “I’m not going to sing. Not here anyway.”
“Well,” Rhiannon said, adopting a more sombre tone as she realised the psychological pain she must be thrusting upon Joe, “I’m sorry you lost her. She was a great asset to the musical world.”
“Thank you, Rhiannon.” The pair smiled at each other, and for once the silence that followed was not awkward but satisfied.
Wendy turned into the main gates for Fox Hall, drove over the bridge and stopped outside the main building of Fox Hall. Joe and Rhiannon climbed out to be greeted by Tim, who had been waiting by the large oak door. Tim hugged Joe and shook Rhiannon’s hand. Wendy, who stayed in the car called him over. She muttered a few words to him and then drove off down a road that lead to extra parking.
“Right then, in we go!” Tim announced chirpily, and led the way into Fox Hall itself.
The foyer had a stone paved floor. The reception lay to the left of the entrance whilst black leather armchairs and dark wooden coffee tables dominated the rest of the foyer. It was very elegant and it was easy to see why it was such a popular place for weddings.
“It’s so good to see you out of hospital,” Tim said.
“I’m glad to be back home. We don’t have to eat disgusting food anymore,” Joe joked.
“Yes, hospital food is a bit dreary, but you’ll like it here because the meals are excellent. Judith’s wonderful. Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me; I’m run off my feet with this wedding. So I’ll see you later. Good to see you back safely, Joe. And it’s good to have you here too, Rhiannon.” Tim Fox walked briskly away through another set of great, oak doors that led to a giant hall where the wedding reception was being held.
Not long after, Wendy walked into the reception and picked up some letters for her and Mr. Fox. She smiled at Joe and Rhiannon, before following Tim into the hall. A second later, she poked her head back round the door. “Do you want a drink or anything?” she offered kindly. Both Joe and Rhiannon were thirsty and followed Wendy to the kitchen.
Walking through the hall, Rhiannon was astounded at the size of it all. She stood in the doorway feeling absolutely tiny in the greatness of the hall. She had never experienced such a room before. The far wall seemed miles away and the ceiling out of reach. The wooden floor was worn from years of use and appeared natural and beautiful. There was a flurry of activity within the hall as men moved numerous white tables around and displayed chairs around them. Another group of men were laying the raised dance floor and fixing electronics for the DJ and all of his equipment. A few women were busy discussing with someone from the wedding about flowers, decorations and colour schemes. To the right of the hall, the long table for the bride, groom, parents, best man and head bridesmaid. In the centre of the room, Tim was talking to a woman who must have been the events organiser for the reception as she was very demanding on exactly what she wanted. Tim looked incredibly flustered trying to deal with this woman. “It’s too late to ask for salmon instead of lamb! The guests are coming in four hours time and my catering staff cannot prepare a hundred or so salmon dishes.” Though however many times he tried to explain this to her, she didn’t listen and talked about “ruining a special day.”
Rhiannon continued to look around the room. She counted ten round tables that were being positioned on the side of the hall closest to the door, each with eight chairs around them. They tables were being furnished with tablecloths, table features and cutlery by a team of busy people who hurried around everywhere. To the left of the hall there were swing doors either side of a bar, which was being cleaned down and stocked with extra drinks.
Wendy led Joe and Rhiannon through one of the swing doors, which led to a busy kitchen. Although the main hall was currently being used, the catering staff still had to cater for other guests who stayed in the luxurious bedrooms who dined in the dining room to the back of the building overlooking the extensive gardens and the lake. The breakfast rush was over and the cooks and chefs were now preparing for the busy lunchtime period. Wendy called through the kitchen, “Judith! Joe’s here to see you!” A second later, a very red-faced and flustered Judith came up to them. “This is Joe’s friend, Rhiannon.” They exchanged polite greetings, before Wendy excused herself and returned to her office.
“I’m so sorry to hear of your loss,” Rhiannon said. She supposed it sounded very fake, just like everyone had said at her mother’s funeral.
“It’s terrible. So unfair. How are you coping?” Joe asked with real concern and anguish in his voice.
“Well, I’m getting there,” Judith said, trying to put a positive spin on things. “Nicole isn’t doing so well, I’m afraid. She’s naturally quiet, but since the tragedy she’s barely spoken a word.”
“Was she close to her family?” Rhiannon asked.
“Aren’t every family?” Judith retorted, rather sharply.
“No,” Rhiannon said, glaringly. “Maybe every middle-class family, but not every family. I hate my father; he hit my mother and caused us so much grief. So don’t you dare for one moment suspect that every family is happy.” She tossed her hair and walked back into the main hall, leaving a bewildered Judith and Joe.
Rhiannon was fuming. How dare Judith assume that because she grew up in a perfect family, that everyone else was given the same blessings? Rhiannon marched back through the idyllic wedding hall, back through the reception and outside. She walked forward and then stopped in the middle of the island in the drive. She was so angry at the assumptions of the middle class. A tear tried to escape from her eye, but it was the only one permitted to travel down her cheek.
She moved on, walking around Fox Hall along the lakefront. She watched the ground she was stepping on, none of the beautiful scenery that Fox Hall was situated within was important. The grass was so green and perfect. The occasional daisy was so white, so pure, and so pristine. Yet it was all superficial. Fox Hall was to Rhiannon a symbol of what those high up in society could achieve. A symbol of perfection, but also a symbol of unawareness. Here, secluded in forests, hills and lakes, Fox Hall was protected from the strains of real life, from the tensions of what really mattered.
Ahead of her, Rhiannon saw a bench with a beautiful overlook of the lake and the neighbouring forest. Already sitting on the bench was a girl. She was very dark-haired, small and rather mousy. This must be Nicole. Seeing her, Rhiannon felt great sympathy for her. She was alone. Rhiannon was alone too. They were both recently orphans and were both lost in life. Rhiannon sat down beside the girl. “I’m Rhiannon,” she said. Neither looked at each other at first. They both looked across the lake and into the dark forest.
“Nicole,” the girl said.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“I’ve just turned seventeen.” Rhiannon had thought her early conversations with Joe had been awkward but this was a completely new standard of unease. “It’s nice here, isn’t it?”
“It’s alright.” Nicole seemed to not want to communicate at all.
“I can empathise with you, Nicole. I can understand your pain.” Nicole didn’t move, didn’t speak. No signs of even hearing Rhiannon were made. “I feel just as alone, isolated, cut off. It hurts so much. There’s that emptiness right here.” She placed her hand just below her ribcage. “That hollowness that feels like it’s never going to disappear, because what once filled you is gone and it can’t come back. And it isn’t fair.” Rhiannon had brought herself to cool tears. She turned to Nicole who was also silently crying. “You’re a good person. I like to think of myself as a good person. And we’re the ones who suffer.”
“Have you…did you lose your parents as well?”
“Yes. I’ve not told anyone. I’d prefer to keep it a secret. I don’t want to look weak. Please don’t tell anyone.” Nicole nodded; Rhiannon’s secret was safe with her. Rhiannon relaxed. “That’s a nice necklace,” she said.
Nicole touched her necklace to check which one Rhiannon was talking about. “Thank you, it was my mother’s.” Rhiannon half-expected Nicole to cry at the mention of her mother, but she was wrong. Nicole didn’t cry. Quite the opposite, in fact. Nicole was smiling for the first time in weeks.
“So, have you explored this place fully?” Rhiannon asked, bringing a bit of liveliness back to the conversation.
“Not really. I’ve had a little look, but not everywhere.”
“Right, well I think we should explore properly, yeah?”
Nicole smiled showing off her beautiful, pearly teeth. “Yes.”
Rhiannon and Nicole had bonded very well through their exploration of the nooks and crannies of Fox Hall. Although it was such a trivial thing, it had brought both girls out of their misleading guises. Nicole was incredibly funny; manipulating sarcasm and witty remarks to her own and Rhiannon’s amusement. It was difficult to see the melancholic, orphaned girl, but her sadness was still there. Although she was more relaxed and having a good time with her new friend, something within Nicole stopped her from completely letting go. She still held back ever so slightly.
Rhiannon’s confidence was soaring, however. She laughed and chatted and acted the fool more so than ever. She had a new friend. It wasn’t difficult as it had been at first with Joe. It was easy to talk with Nicole. A new friendship was blossoming and Rhiannon could feel that this one was for keeps.
Rhiannon had had friends before, of course. But they’d faded away, abandoned her. They’d left her when the truth of her father’s horrific crimes was outed. No one wanted to be friends with the murderer’s daughter. What if she turned psycho too and turned against them. Rhiannon had been friendless for years since her father was sent down. She’d put up with it though. She’d been brought up to be steely and to be as tough as nails. Even after her mother moved house, she failed to make friends. She had the odd person she could chat to, but she resisted making friends. It only made it worse when they, for whatever reason, vanished from her life.
But Rhiannon’s attitude had changed now. Joe had been pleasant enough and Nicole was so sweet. She was so small and vulnerable, and yet, Rhiannon was increasingly discovering, she was so full of beautiful and thriving life. Both girls brought the best out of each other, despite knowing each other for little more than half an hour.
“We’d probably go and get some lunch,” Nicole said. “My aunt can whip something up for us, I’m sure.”
Rhiannon bit her lip. “I doubt I’m her favourite person at the moment,” she admitted. Rhiannon was careful not to say that Judith wasn’t her favourite person either; she wanted to avoid anything that could disrupt such a great start. “I kind of, well, I did, shout at her earlier.”
Nicole laughed. “What did she do to be attacked by the Welsh Dragon?” Rhiannon looked at her quizzically. “That’s your new nickname, by the way!”
“Oh, thank you.” Rhiannon had never been given a nickname. She’d had abbreviations and been teased as Red-headed Rhiannon at primary school. “Your aunt suggested that all families are really close, but I hate my father.”
“Why?”
“He…he’s responsible for the Cardiff Murders five years ago and all the crap in my life. He went to prison and messed up my life and my mother’s. Then, he…Messing up our lives wasn’t enough for him. He destroyed our lives. There was a mass outbreak from the prison. He tracked us down. Mum was pregnant by another man by this time and Dad…” Rhiannon was crying. She hadn’t cried during the hearing in front of all those people, but she was crying now. She hadn’t talked about it informally as yet. Now that she was, she found it so much more painful as the memories swamped her. “He locked me in the bathroom, to keep me out of the way. Then, there were gunshots.” Rhiannon jumped as she felt Nicole’s hand gently comforting her shoulders. “Just two. And then silence for days.” Rhiannon’s mind was now silent. She remembered the intense hunger, the loneliness, and the psychological torture of not knowing what had happened. “They’re all dead. Mum, Dad, the baby. I’m alone.”
“I’m here for you now, if you ever need anything.”
Rhiannon attempted a smile. “Likewise, Nicole.”
“Still in the mood for lunch?”
“You go ahead. I’m going to spend some time on my own, if that’s alright with you,” Rhiannon said with melancholy. Nicole nodded and left Rhiannon standing alone in the reception of Fox Hall
She sat down on the steps outside and looked out across the open space. Over the bridge and across the lake, the road entered a forest. The forest surrounded the crescent-shaped lake and the back of Fox Hall. So much beauty and nature. It was so vast! It was such a contrast to the downstairs toilet she’d been cooped up in for a week surviving on water from the tap and actually eating the toilet paper. She’d forced herself to survive. She refused to let her father win. But then something had swung her mind to the other extreme. The pain was too much. She wanted death. She had stopped drinking the water. Stopped eating the toilet paper. She wanted it to end. She wanted an escape and death was the only escape she could find. But she could never find it within her to hang herself from the light bulb, or to drink the cleaning fluid. She just lay there, starving and dehydrated until her body just gave up. Then she was found and her life had taken step by step upwards, on the way to happiness.
“Ah! Rhiannon!” a voice said triumphantly. Rhiannon twisted round and saw Tim standing behind her. “Oh, you’ve been crying, my dear,” he said, noticing her tear streaked cheeks.
“It’s nothing important, Mr Fox.”
“It’s your parents, isn’t it?”
“How do you know about my parents?” Rhiannon asked, half surprised and half angry.
“Liz had to tell me when she asked me to look after you. I’m terribly sorry. I lost my parents from a young age, though my story is much more confusing. I wouldn’t ask, if I were you?”
“You can’t say that and then not say!” Rhiannon said. “Come on, tell me!”
“Very well, but only the basics. I never knew my father, and my mother disappeared when I was seven. I lived with my aunt after that. I was reunited with my father, then my mother. They both died shortly after our reunion. That’s it in a nutshell. Is your story much more complicated than that?”
“Father was a serial killer, sent to jail. My mother and I moved away from Cardiff to Westport, and she met someone else. She got pregnant and when Dad escaped from prison he killed her and himself, locking me in a bathroom,” Rhiannon summarised.
“That’s awful. I’m sorry, Rhiannon, I shouldn’t have enquired. It was rude of me.”
Rhiannon smiled weakly. “Just as rude as me asking you. Why have you come out here anyway?”
“Right, yes, of course. Joe and Nicole have both agreed to help me out later on with the wedding reception. Just walking about with trays of drinks and nibbles as a pre-appetizer thing-me-bob. I wondered if you’d like to help to.”
Rhiannon smiled at Tim. He was an odd man. “Yes,” she replied, “I’d like to help very much.”
“Great! I think Judith’s preparing a picnic lunch for you guys. They’re meeting by the willow tree if you want to wander round that way.” Tim pointed to where Rhiannon should head towards. I’ve got to get back to my battle of lamb versus salmon. I might have to bring Judith into it as a professional chef. Right, have a fun picnic!” Tim rushed inside leaving Rhiannon grinning after him. He was a very peculiar man. Nice, yet very peculiar.
Under the willow tree, Joe and Nicole were busy tucking into some sandwiches. They had a bottle of lemonade, a small selection of cold meats, and some green apples, all displayed on a tartan rug. “Am I George then?” Rhiannon asked, jokingly.
“What’s that?” Joe asked.
“The Famous Five! Nicole would be Anne, You’d be Julian or Dick, so I must be George!”
“Why’d you think that?” asked Nicole, handing a cup of lemonade up to Rhiannon.
“I feel I’ve walked into the nineteen fifties! The lake and the willow tree, the lemonade, the whole picnic spread. I feel like you’ll offer me some ginger beer and a game of croquet!”
“Do you like croquet?” Nicole asked. “I think it’s a bit dull, really. I’d much rather play netball.”
“I’m a bit of a footy girl. I don’t play often. Joe?”
“Karate,” he said simply. “Dad forced me to after mum died.”
“What belt are you?”
“Um, I’m a black belt,” Joe said modestly.
“Seriously? That’s really good! Well done!” Nicole cheered, clapping her hands.
“I’ve not done it in ages and I probably won’t need to use it.”
“Is it all part of the security guard thing?” Rhiannon asked, taking the opportunity to check his and Wendy’s awkward behaviour in the car.
“Yeah,” Joe said confidently, despite it being a lie. “Self-defence and the like. All part and parcel of the whole security stuff. Right then, football girl. Fancy a kick-about?”
“Alright then, Foxy! Go get us a ball.”
Joe had to run round to converted stables to fetch a football, leaving Rhiannon and Nicole alone to chat. “So, he wants to be a security guard,” Nicole said.
“He’s lying.”
“What? Why’d he lie?”
“How should I know? I’m going to find out though. There is no way that Dimension Guardian is a special kind of security guard. It’s absurd. I’m going to get the truth.”
“Do you not like Joe?”
“Of course I do! Don’t get me wrong. I just don’t like being lied to.”
Rhiannon finished her drink and lied down on her back staring up into the sky. “Do you mind if I show you something?” Nicole asked tentatively. “I feel like I need to show it to someone.”
“Is it one of those girly things?” Rhiannon said, still staring into the heavens. “Because you’re probably best asking your aunt.”
“I know all that stuff. I had two older brothers! No, I want to show you this.”
Rhiannon groaned as she sat up. Nicole was rummaging around in her bag. “What’s that bag for? You have it everywhere with you.”
“I keep personal stuff in it; photos, trinkets, my diary. Just sentimental stuff. Well, Judith gave me this the other day.” She pulled out the green orb. Rhiannon leaned forward with intrigue, her eyes following the incessant swirling of the sea-green mist.
“It’s gorgeous!” she exclaimed. “Roll it over here.”
Nicole pushed it away from her. “I just wondered what you made of it.” Nicole’s question was not answered. Inside the orb, there seemed to be a thunderstorm. Miniature bolts of lightning connected from the centre of the orb to the outside like a plasma globe. Rhiannon cautiously touched it. She felt nothing, but the thunderbolts leapt about to her fingers. “It’s never done that before,” Nicole said.
“Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem to like me,” Rhiannon chuckled rolling it back to Nicole. The thunderstorm had stopped by the time Nicole scooped it up and placed it in her lap.
“Or it really, really likes you,” Nicole suggested. Rhiannon smiled and raised her eyebrows. Either alternative was theoretically possible. “What do you think it is?”
“Damned if I know. Probably some static electricity globe thing. Responds to touch.”
“Why doesn’t it respond to me then?”
Rhiannon shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it can sense something in your body – more calcium or iron or something like that. To be honest, though, Nicole, I have no idea.” Nicole seemed disheartened and put the orb back into her bag.
