Leave the Last Page Read online

  ‘It’s dead.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Patty, is that something I can leave with you?’

  ‘Of course it is, Charlotte.’ She took another swig of tea. ‘I’m not completely irresponsible, you know. I did raise three children single-handed and they turned out all right. You should know, you married one of them.’

  ‘I’m not trying to fuss, Patty. I just want everything clear.’

  ‘Well it’s crystal, dearie. Now you get yourself off to work while us two play with matches and stick our fingers in the sockets. That’s a joke, by the way.’

  Charlotte put a hand on Patty’s shoulder. ‘I know. And thank you. I’m sure everything will be…fine.’ Tom looked at his mum’s face and could tell that she wasn’t convinced. ‘I’ll be home by five,’ she said. ‘I should be able to swing an early finish.’

  ‘Well, if we’re not here, don’t fret!’

  Charlotte stuttered on her way out of the room, but then shook her head slightly before carrying on. Tom followed her to the front door. She picked up her bag, then leant over and kissed his forehead.

  ‘Don’t worry – I’ll be good for Grandma,’ Tom said.

  ‘I know you will, sweetheart. I just hope she’ll be good for you.’ She kissed him again. ‘See you later.’

  Once she’d gone, Tom reversed back up the hallway and into the living room.

  ‘Nice moves, Speedo.’ Grandma tapped her stick twice against the wooden floor. ‘You ready to go out then?’

  Tom was stumped for a second. ‘Erm…I guess so. You didn’t tell Mum we were going straight away. You’ll need to text her.’

  Grandma Patty drained her tea, then snorted. ‘I don’t even have a mobile phone, dearie.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE FIRST MEETING OF THE MORNING HAD BEEN PRETTY INTENSE, BUT IT HAD GONE WELL. Alex had laid out the business model in all its fine detail and after an hour of close scrutiny, the supermarket chain was happy, for now. He’d shook hands with their commercial director and been told that the contracts may well be drawn up for his signature by the end of the week, subject to a few final checks and conditions. He might have to put off doing business with other stores to land this big one, but if he could pull it off…

  Now he had ten minutes to check his phone for updates from Charlotte and hopefully tell her the promising news.

  His suit jacket hung on the back of the chair in the meeting room. He rescued his phone from the inside pocket. He only had one text. It was from Charlotte, and it read: Haven’t heard from your mother but I’m sure everything is fine. He checked the time on it. It had been sent twenty minutes ago. He had a few minutes; he decided to ring Charlotte.

  She picked up on the fourth ring. ‘Hey, you heard from Mum yet?’

  ‘Hi, Alex. No, I’ve not. They’re probably watching a movie or something.’

  ‘Is it worth ringing them to check?’

  ‘They’ve been on their own for two hours, honey. Nothing’s wrong.’

  ‘Then why text me to say you hadn’t heard? Now I’m worried.’

  ‘And you’d be more worried if I hadn’t texted. You just keep your mind on your day. How’s it going?’

  ‘Good so far, I think. Hopefully a big buyer. I’m going to ring home.’

  ‘Alex, you arranged for your mum to be there. Just let her get on with it.’

  ‘Then I’ll text Tom.’

  ‘He said his phone is dead. You’re busy – I’ll ring the house at lunch then let you know.’

  Alex chewed his lip. ‘Like you said, I know my mother. Do you think I made a mistake?’

  ‘She was settling into the sofa with a cup of tea when I left her. She’s hardly going to trash the place. You get back to work.’ Charlotte laughed down the line. ‘Earn that holiday, Mr Holliday!’

  After another minute of Charlotte trying to reassure him, they ended the call. He thought about ringing the house anyway, but then what if they were watching a movie with the volume up high? They wouldn’t hear the phone and then Alex would just worry some more. He could do without the extra concern today – he had so much riding on this deal. So, despite what he knew of his mother’s reckless instincts at times, he had to trust her to look after his wheelchair-bound son for one day. Surely she couldn’t invent any mischief with an eleven-year-old in his condition?

  He stared down at his phone, uncertain.

  Then it rang in his hand, making him jump.

  He saw the word tagged to the number across the phone’s screen: Sunnyside.

  Sunnyside Home for the Elderly was where his grandmammy lived. He only had the number in his phone because he was the second point of contact after his mother. He had never rang the number, and they had never rang him.

  Until today.

  He pressed the green phone icon. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, is that Mr Holliday?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Hello, Mr Holliday, I’m calling from Sunnyside Care Home. My name is Felicity Noon and I’m one of the directors here. I’m sorry to tell you, Mr Holliday, that your grandmother Aisling Cleary has sadly passed away.’

  Alex felt his heart thud then rise to his throat. ‘Oh God. Oh, that’s terrible. Have you managed to get hold of my mother? She won’t be home because she’s-’

  ‘Actually, Mr Holliday, that’s the other reason why we’re calling. Your mother, Patty Holliday, has visited us this morning, with your son too, I believe.’

  Alex’s face went hot. ‘She has?’

  ‘Yes and I’m afraid there’s been some kind of incident. The police are here. They’d like you to come right away so they can speak to you in person.’

  Alex’s heart fell into his gut.

  *

  The journey to Sunnyside from his office would usually take around twenty minutes in the car but Alex was confident he could do it in less. Still, that gave him more than enough time to have a hundred horrible thoughts about what could possibly be meant by the word ‘incident’.

  What had his stupid mother done?

  And more importantly, was Tom okay?

  He had visions of all sorts happening: his mother wrecking the place in her grief, taking some grumpy nurse hostage, involving Tom in some stand-off with the authorities.

  Or was Tom hurt? Had his mother lashed out at him in some way at the news of her mother’s passing? Or had she abandoned him somewhere to be alone with her sorrow?

  Or could she have accidently been the cause of his Grandmammy Aisling’s death? Or could Tom have done something wrong?

  Oh Lord, don’t let it be Tom.

  In more reasonable moments during the drive he felt sadness for his Grandmammy’s passing. She had been a delightful grandparent, entertaining him when he was a little boy with tales of Ireland and giants and faerie folk. To him his Grandmammy came from a mystical place, the Emerald Isle. Time spent with her as a youngster felt magical.

  He had hoped for similar for Tom from the boy’s own grandmother. But Grandma Patty only told the young Tom stories of the rock concerts she had been to in the early seventies before she’d had kids. A number of times he had been compelled to stop her mid-flow, as what she was saying sounded like it was bordering on the inappropriate.

  Unfortunately Grandmammy Aisling had been too infirm these last few years to share her tales with Tom. Well into her nineties, she’d been slowly shutting down.

  And today the lights had finally gone out.

  He allowed himself a few moments to feel sorry for his own mother. She had, after all, lost her mother today, and she would be feeling that very keenly, no doubt. And yet, until he knew exactly what was meant by the word ‘incident’, and until he’d got to the bottom of why his mother had taken his son halfway across town without telling anyone, he couldn’t really feel anything towards her except anger.

  *

  The car skidded a little as he swung it into the wide gravel drive at Sunnyside. There was a police squad car out front, amongst others. The sight of it made h
is heart discodance around his ribcage once more.

  He introduced himself at the front desk, and was ushered very quickly down a corridor towards the residential section of the building where his grandmammy had lived for the last ten years.

  Once there, he was confronted with a devastating scene.

  There was a uniformed officer guarding the doorway. He allowed Alex to duck under the yellow police tape and enter Aisling Cleary’s room. Mercifully, the bed was empty and had been stripped of most of the bedclothes. The bottom sheet remained and it looked clean and crisp, which gave Alex a second of reassurance. He assumed that she had died in bed; if so, then it looked like it had been peaceful enough. A bearded man in a creased suit stood next to it and was taking notes, but he didn’t look overly concerned.

  However, it was the other side of the room that gave cause for alarm. The patio doors near the seating area had been smashed. Not just the glass broken, as if from a thrown rock, but absolutely shattered into smithereens. Shards littered the floor, from the patio door frame to the doorway he’d just walked through. Alex crunched one underfoot as he took a tentative step forward. The reinforced plastic of the patio doors themselves had been snapped and bent inwards, as if something of considerable size, with considerable force, had barged its way into the room. A man in a white jumpsuit was inspecting the ragged edges of the carnage. Had Alex seen a vehicle being towed away from this scene, he would not be surprised: such was the extent of the mess. It looked like someone had tried to park their car in Grandmammy Aisling’s room.

  Of course, the burning question was: what did that have to do with his mother and his son?

  The man in the creased suit walked over, his hand outstretched. Alex took it and shook it. ‘You must be Alex Holliday? I’m Detective Sergeant Benedict Fields. Sorry for your loss.’

  ‘That’s okay. What’s happened here, detective?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to work out.’ He brushed at his moustache with his finger and thumb. ‘This is pretty much the scene as it was found. The only difference is I asked for your grandmother to be taken away before you arrived.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex said instinctively, but then wasn’t sure if that was what he was supposed to say. ‘Did she die…peacefully?’

  ‘I’m no expert, but I’d say so. The coroner will tell us more, but by the position of her body and the relaxed expression on her face, it looks as if she passed before this craziness happened.’ He nodded to the patio doors. ‘Had she witnessed this I don’t think she’d have looked so…content.’

  ‘So she wasn’t in distress, or died of shock?’

  ‘Like I said, no expert, but I doubt it. I imagine your grandmother just slipped away.’

  Alex felt some relief. Part of him had dreaded the news that somehow either his son or his mother had unwittingly caused Aisling harm and brought about her downfall. That didn’t seem to be the case. However, it did just lead to more questions.

  ‘Do you know where my mother is? Or my son, Tom?’

  Detective Fields tilted his head a little like a dog, and stared directly at Alex. ‘No, we don’t. We just know they were here. You don’t know where they are then?’

  ‘No.’ The detective kept staring at Alex. ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Okay. Well, here it is. They arrived at about nine-thirty. Signed in at the front desk and were escorted to this room. Stayed for around half an hour without incident or alarm, although we do think that during that time your grandmother passed away. Then at around ten o’clock the neighbours to her room reported an almighty crash. The staff rushed to investigate and found the smashed-in patio doors. And your mother and son nowhere to be seen.’

  Alex took a few seconds to take in some deep breaths. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. A voice in his head randomly popped up. What on earth are you going to tell Charlotte? You told her that your mother was a better bet than Kelly Sellers, or whatever her name is.

  ‘Do you think…do you think somebody took them?’ He stepped further into the room and looked through the gaping hole into the gardens. More uniformed officers and people in white jumpsuits were inspecting the surrounding areas. From here the grass and flowerbeds look undisturbed. He was beginning to feel a little nauseous.

  ‘We can’t be certain, but we aren’t ruling anything out. They may have left of their own accord.’

  Alex looked at the detective. ‘You think Tom and my mother caused this mess?’

  ‘We aren’t ruling anything out, Mr Holliday.’ Detective Fields tucked his pen and pad in his jacket pocket and focused all his attention on Alex. ‘Is there anything you can tell us that you think might help with our enquiries?’

  Alex was getting a little frustrated at the insinuation that his family might somehow have caused all this. He looked down at the hundreds of glass shards between him and the threshold to the patio door. He noticed the little drop and concrete steps down to the lawn. ‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said. ‘It would be pretty difficult for my son to get his wheelchair across all this and down those steps in a hurry, if you think he was trying to get away from something he’d done wrong.’

  Detective Fields nodded in agreement. ‘Take a look behind you, Mr Holliday.’

  Alex turned, and couldn’t quite believe what he saw. He didn’t notice it when he first came in, as it was blocked by the open door to the room.

  There in the corner, with its black, red and silver chassis, was Dodge.

  Tom’s wheelchair.

  There were white pieces of paper on the seat. Alex stepped towards it. ‘Please don’t pick that up, Mr Holliday; we need the forensics team to take a look at it.’

  Alex leaned in for a closer look. It was a couple of sheets of writing, A4 in size. One side on each was torn, like they had been hastily ripped from a book. ‘That’s Tom’s handwriting.’

  ‘You can see it’s not a note of explanation. Are you aware of what it is, Mr Holliday?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alex. ‘Yes, I know what it is. It’s the start of a story Tom has written for school. What’s happened to my son, detective?’

  Detective Fields walked over to Alex and put a hand on his arm to guide him. ‘This way, Mr Holliday. I don’t want us to contaminate the scene more than necessary. One more thing though.’ He looked out towards the garden. ‘Edwards?’

  One of the men outside in the white jumpsuits looked up. ‘Yes sir?’

  ‘Tell me again about the footprints.’

  ‘Two sets, sir. Both leaving the premises. One approximately a size four, the other a six. Stride distance suggests short people, but probably running.’

  ‘Is one heavy, suggesting they might be carrying extra weight, another person perhaps?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘What about coming up to the doors? Any footprints in that direction?’

  ‘Apart from some closely grouped prints that we’ve managed to rule out as staff who investigated the crash, nothing. No one approached the doors before the incident. It’s quite unusual, as the glass and debris is all directed inwards.’

  ‘Thanks, Edwards – carry on.’ Fields looked at Alex. ‘As I said, we’re not ruling out anything, but what do you think it looks like might have happened?’

  Alex could hardly hear him for the thudding in his ears. ‘I couldn’t say.’

  ‘No…Hard to be sure, isn’t it? However, what it looks like is that something blasted through the doors – a small, controlled explosion maybe – and then your mother and son ran out of here.’

  Alex pressed his fingers against the pulse in his temple. He looked back at Dodge. ‘But that’s impossible.’

  Detective Fields let out a sigh and nodded. ‘So it would seem, Mr Holliday. So it would seem.’

  *

  An hour later and a couple of extra things had happened. Charlotte Holliday arrived and both parents sat in a vacant room at Sunnyside and had a good cry. There was nothing in Aisling’s room or in the gardens outside that gave a clue as to
where their son was.

  Various pieces of evidence from the scene were bagged and tagged to be sent for further analysis, including Dodge. Perhaps irrationally, the news that they couldn’t take the chair home brought more tears for the Hollidays.

  The story pages were also taken, but photocopies were made, for the Hollidays and Detective Fields. He explained to them: ‘We’d like you to take the pages home and study them, please. Just in case you can see something in them that might give us a clue to what has happened. Of course, we’ll do the same, but your personal view might bring more luck. Someone will be calling on you later just to ask a few more questions and see if you can shed a little more light on this situation.’

  Charlotte nodded intently, clutching the photocopied pages. When Fields left them she thrust them at her husband. ‘Perhaps you’ve got time to read it now.’

  ‘Charlie, that’s not fair.’

  ‘Just read the story…’

  He flattened out the pages and began.

  GREENSPHERE QUEST by TOM HOLLIDAY

  PART ONE

  Long ago, on a planet called Greensphere, there was a 60 year old lady named Helena Cures who was a white witch (a good witch). She was always making potions to solve her own and other people’s problems. For the past few months she had been working on a potion that would solve the biggest problem of all: the poisoned grass. The land was infested with this poisonous plant and it had a serious dislike towards the good people – it was almost as if it wanted to kill good people instantly by piercing into their legs and injecting vicious venom into their veins, eventually poisoning the heart. However, if a person of pure evil should step on it he or she could unleash a monster army from the grass beneath them, could make the infestation come to life. This would allow them to do whatever they wished to anyone who got in the way. To stop this, Helena had been working on the healing potion for ten months and all it needed now was to be mixed with one final ingredient, clear running water, to make it ready to use.