Shatter the Bones

didn’t look fourteen.

‘Welcome to Britain’s Next Big Star!’ Cheering. ‘We’ve got a terrifi c show for you this week, but remember: only four of tonight’s contestants can go through to the next round, so make sure you vote for your favourites!’

Alison’s DVD recorder was full of the stuff — Britain’s Next Big Star, the X-Factor, Britain’s Got Talent, Strictly Come Dancing, three different things with ‘Andrew Lloyd Webber’ in the title…

Logan laid the photograph on the bed, next to the others, and pulled another one from the box: Alison in the pub with another girl and a pair of gormless-looking blokes. The other girl … looked a bit like Vicious Vikki, only a lot thinner. One of the blokes was definitely Doddy McGregor.

Logan placed it next to the schoolgirl shot. Then frowned. Alison McGregor looked identical in every single picture. Her clothes changed, her hair changed, her make-up changed, but her face didn’t. It was exactly the same smile in every picture — mouth, teeth, eyes, eyebrows all exactly the same.

It wasn’t a bad smile: it was open, warm, wholesome, and a little bit sexy all at the same time… It suited her. But seen like this, all these photos spread out on the duvet cover, it just looked as if she was wearing a mask. As if whenever a camera came out, the real Alison McGregor disappeared.

Sitting on his own, in an empty house, Logan knew how she felt.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ TOM stands in the middle of the room, with his hands on his hips.

Jenny looks up from the bed as DAVID walks in, swinging his legs like he’s a cowboy in a movie.

‘Don’t be so fucking gay.’ DAVID dumps a plastic bag from the supermarket on the floor. ‘Got stuck with our friendly neighbourhood plod this afternoon. Took forever to get rid of the bastards.’ He pulls a newspaper from the bag and throws it to TOM. ‘Front page.’

TOM fumbles, then unfolds the paper and stares at it. ‘Holy shit.’

‘I know. Where’s Sylvester?’

‘Lecture.’

‘Cool. Cool.’ DAVID nods at the bed. ‘End game, Alison. You ready?’

He pulls a bottle out of the bag — a big bottle with a big cork. ‘I think celebrations are in order. Tom?’

‘Spectacular!’ TOM turns the newspaper around until they can all see it. There’s a picture of Jenny and Mummy on the cover. ‘Nine point four million. Ca-fucking-ching!’

Mummy sits up and the chain around her ankle rattles. ‘We just want to go home.’

‘Well, here’s the problem,’ DAVID holds the bottle in his hand like it’s a doll, ‘we’ve had a change of plan. Tom?’

‘What?’

‘You got the duct tape?’

‘Bingo.’ TOM holds up a thick grey hoop. ‘Cool.’ DAVID snaps his fingers. ‘Let’s see it.’

‘Nine point four million.’ TOM skips across the room. ‘Shit that is a load of-’

THUNK. DAVID swings the bottle like a hammer, right into the back of TOM’s head.

Don’t bottles break when you hit them on things? Like when the Queen launches a ship and she has to thump the bottle on the ship and it breaks and there’s all this foam everywhere and the ship slides away into the sea.

‘Nnnnng…’ TOM wobbles. The silvery tape falls from his hand, hits the floorboards and rolls away.

DAVID hits him with the bottle again. Thunk.

TOM’s legs stop working and he falls to the floor. His left foot twitches, the fingers of one purple-gloved hand shaking. Something dark seeps down inside his mask, making the clear plastic go red.

Jenny scrambles backwards until she bashes into the bedpost, not caring about the burny pain in her feet.

DAVID puts the bottle on the floor. He goes back to his shopping and pulls out a big black bin-bag. Shakes it so it’s all puffy. Then puts it over TOM’s head. ‘Don’t want to get blood on our nice clean floor, do we?’

He holds it tight around TOM’s neck for ages and ages, till TOM stops moving. Then he stands and turns to them. ‘And then … there were four.’

Mummy shakes her head. ‘I just want this to be over with.’

‘About that…’ DAVID grabs her hair and drags her off the bed. Mummy screams, hands clawing at him.

‘NO!’ Jenny can’t back away any further, the metal bedpost digs into her back. Teddy Gordon smiles up at her with his dead crow eyes. Laughing. She grabs him by the throat and throws him with all her might. ‘DON’T HURT MY MUMMY!’

Teddy Gordon bounces off DAVID’s chest.

He looks down at the bear lying on the floor beside TOM. ‘Yeah, cute.’

DAVID hauls Mummy over onto her stomach, and kneels on her back. Then catches her hands, holding them in one big purple-gloved fist as he wraps her wrists in shiny silver tape.

‘GET OFF ME! GET THE FUCK OFF ME!’

He tears off another bit of tape, and now Mummy only mumbles and hisses.

Jenny jumps onto the floor and runs at him, her feet stabby and aching and sore. Brave Little Girl… She snatches the bottle off the floor. I name this ship DAVID. She swings it with all her might.

It bounces off his shoulder.

He turns to look at her, his head on one side, like next door’s cat watching a bird with a broken wing. ‘Mistake.’ His hand snaps out, thumping down on Jenny’s left foot.

Something sharp bursts inside her, tearing up her leg, she opens her mouth to scream, but there’s no breath left. She falls, clutching her ankle in both hands, staring as a poppy blooms on the white bandage. The broken thing catches fire. And now she can scream, over and over again. So loud it makes her throat rattle.

‘Fuck’s sake. Shut up.’ He grabs her face — stinky rubber fingers clamping her jaw shut — then forces the sticky tape over her mouth. ‘There we go, much better.’

Mummy wriggles on the floor, eyes small and sparkly, making noises that don’t count as words.

Tears make everything blurry. Jenny’s bandage drips red. She doesn’t even move when DAVID tapes her wrists together, then does the same with her ankles.

He stands, towering over them. ‘Like I said: change of plan. Sylvester’s figured out a way to get away with it all. Nine point four million. Completely untraceable. So you’re surplus to fucking requirements, Alison. A liability. Yeah, we could let you go, trust you to keep your trap shut…’ He laughs. ‘A publicity whore like you? Soon as people start forgetting about you, soon as you’re not on the cover of Hello! any more, it’ll be all,’ DAVID throws his arms out wide, ‘“My secret kidnap hell!” Plucky Alison McGregor reveals all!’

He drops his arms. ‘Not going to happen. Jenny does one last video, and then… Well, I’ll make it quick, OK? I’m not a complete fucking monster after all.’

Chapter 48

‘And what are you going to sing for us?’ The ex-Blue-Peter presenter hunkered down so he was on the same level as the little girl with the curly blonde hair.

Jenny McGregor looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers. ‘We’re going to sing a song about my Daddy.’

Logan sat back on the couch, the remote control for the TV balanced on his knee. He’d found a can of Diet Irn-Bru lurking at the back of the fridge. That’s what happened when you got kidnapped — Grampian Police came round and helped themselves to the contents of your kitchen.

They sure as hell didn’t rescue you.

Alison McGregor put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. ‘It’s called Wind Beneath My Wings.’ They were wearing matching costumes, covered in sequins.

‘OK, well, good luck.’ Mr Blue Peter turned his smile on the camera.