Second Sight — Chapter 3

 © 2011 Nick B

My thanks once again to Gabi for taking the time to apply her wonderful editing talents to this piece. Thanks, Gabs.

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The film turned out to be terrific fun. Having up till that point only seen Clint Eastwood in those spaghetti Westerns, ‘Kelly’s Heroes’ and ‘Where Eagles Dare’, it gave Darryl a whole new level of respect for him.

As far as her awkwardness was concerned, this wasn’t the first time she’d ventured out in a skirt or wearing makeup, but simply ‘not being new to it’ didn’t really make any difference, she still felt self-conscious. It felt to her as though everyone was scrutinising her. As the day wore on, however, her self-consciousness disappeared and by the end of the movie she felt and looked a great deal more comfortable.

As strange as it may seem, she had had prior warning that the change was going to happen and really should have been more used to the idea–but she wasn’t. She thought she was going to have time to think about it, procrastinate and ruminate over the issue and then when she felt like it, make the decision.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. However, it wasn’t the becoming a girl bit at all, it was the lack of control; the lack of being able to decide for herself or even get used to the idea. It would have been nice to maybe try it out for size and see how she felt about it.

Wearing the underwear and bra was nice–odd, but nice–especially not having any dangling bits to support, and tights–over smooth legs–felt really nice, something that she’d dreamt of doing for a long time, but never had the courage to try. Now she was getting to do it without the need for an excuse, or in the big closet as they say.

True, part of the time, she felt that jeans and a t-shirt, perhaps a bomber jacket–oh and trainers–nice, comfortable trainers–would have been better, but the feeling of the snug nylon ‘sheaths’, encasing her legs, together with the softness of her panties, that caressed a still somewhat tender and incredibly sensitive part of her anatomy… well, just felt so good.

They got home and Ron looked at the young girl, his eyebrows raised. “Debbie?” he asked.

Darryl smiled a bit ruefully. “It was a spur of the moment thing. I really like Debbie Harry and hers was the first name that popped into my head.

“I’m not sure I like it,” Gemma said with a grimace. “Sounds a bit ‘Essex’. Still, I suppose it’s marginally better than Sharon or Tracy. What I can’t understand is what’s wrong with Darryl? Darryl’s a nice name. I like Darryl.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Darryl at all, mum,” she explained, hoping to head any further distress off at the pass. “It’s just that now people are starting to put it together with the kidnapping of those women. Plus, it’s a boy’s name. I’m not much of a boy, am I?” She held her arms out and turned slowly. Clearly Gemma couldn’t argue with that.

“She’s got a point actually,” Ron said after some thought. “Maybe it would be best.”

“What?” Gemma exclaimed. “Darryl to Debbie?” Gemma stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at the policeman. “You are joking, aren’t you?”

“No, actually, I’m deadly serious.” The policeman’s expression reaffirmed that seriousness. “Maybe ‘Debbie’s’ not right–although perhaps Deborah wouldn’t be so bad–but There’s much to be said for a little bit of ‘incognito’ right now.” He tapped the side of his nose adding a knowing wink.

The trio was quiet for a few moments and Darryl knew that taking the pseudonym of ‘Debbie’ back at the café was perhaps only delaying things, but she knew Ron had a point; perhaps some more permanent changes in that direction would be a good idea. Maybe if she wasn’t Darryl anymore, then the people around her wouldn’t be in so much danger.

“We know Darryl has attracted a fair bit of attention lately, but what I want to know is how those people who turned up in the café knew I or perhaps even we would be there?”

“Now who’s getting on the conspiracy bandwagon?” Gemma asked. “Next you’ll be talking about assassins and grassy knolls. It could be pure coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Ron asked, rhetorically. “It’s possible, but I very much doubt it. Anyway, I trust Darryl–er, Debbie,” he paused as he appeared to search for something to call her. “Anyway… so far, she hasn’t been wrong even once and that means we should pay attention. If she says he’s dodgy, then he’s dodgy. I just wish I’d kept you two out of the conversation. Those two are bound to put two and two together and then we’ll be back to square one.”

“Square one? What d’you mean? Anyway, I didn’t say he was ‘dodgy’,” Darryl corrected. “I just said that there was something he wasn’t telling us.”

“That’s dodgy, sweetheart," Ron said patiently. "If you’re right, he had an ulterior motive for starting the conversation in the first place–that’s dodgy in my book and now he’ll know I was in the café with Darryl’s–your mum and that you were the girl. Right now, we–you have the advantage, but leave things as they are and they'll catch up with you, putting us all back to square one.”

Silence descended again and Darryl–alone with her thoughts–was not comfortable. She didn’t ask for any of what was happening around her, to her or to the others, yet there it was larger than life and twice as ugly. “I’m so sorry,” she said, getting up and rushing out of the room.

Gemma looked at Ron and then tore after her her daughter, finding her locked in her bedroom with music blasting.

She knocked on the door. “Darryl? Are you alright?”

“Leave me alone.”

“I most certainly will not. I have nearly lost you twice now in the last few weeks and I will not let it happen again. Open the door,” Gemma said as she leant on the door. “Please?”

The door opened and Darryl turned straight back around and threw herself on her bed, burying her head in the pillows.

Gemma turned the music off. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

Slowly, Darryl turned over and looked through tearstained eyes at her mum.

“I don’t know. It suddenly hit me when we were in the kitchen. You were thinking how easy it was when I was just Darryl–your son. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but the most you had to be worried about was whether I was going to fall off a bike or a skateboard. You know–boy things.

“Now you’re worried for a whole load of other reasons and I’m so scared of getting into anything just in case. I’ve spent the last few weeks in hospital being poked, prodded, cut, sewn, pricked and just about anything else you can think of and I really don’t want to go through anything like that again.

“Paul, Doris, you–you’re all being given hassle by people you don’t know and people you do–all because of me. On top of that, I’ve been kidnapped, stabbed and involved Ron, who has had to look after me on an almost full-time basis. I’ve got him into trouble and God knows I didn’t want to. You would have thought that now that’s behind us, that would be easing off, but it's not. It’s just chucked a whole new dose of badness at us.”

With that, she burst into tears again.

Ron entered as Gemma sat, holding her daughter, gently rocking back and forth.

When the sobbing stopped, Gemma checked and Darryl was sound asleep, despite how early it was. She gently lowered her to the bed, covered her over and shooed Ron out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her and hurrying after him.

“Is she alright?” he whispered.

“I think so. No real harm,” she told the worried policeman. “The doctors explained this might happen. It’s something to do with the hormones. I probably went through something similar when I was her age or younger. I can’t say I remember much about it. It feels like an eternity ago.”

“I can understand how she feels,” Ron paused, screwing his eyes up. “Well sort of anyway,” he said. “She’s been dropped straight in the deep end. What with her abilities and now this, it’s got to be damned strange to say the least.”

“You’re a good man, Ron Cummings.”

“Thanks, Gemma. I’d better go.”

“So soon?” she asked, standing close…

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Julian Croft had expected Sergeant Cummings to be tight-lipped about the whole kidnap affair. His niece had after all, had her life taken from her and so far, there was no news on how the other women were. What had been said by the newspaper had been quickly retracted and it was only fair that Ron would want to keep all the other information to himself.

There were too many accounts of the young lad–Darryl–to ignore. He’d told people things that he couldn’t possibly have known, but the majority of people claiming he’d said the things he did could well have been influenced by the newspaper articles. He was going to have to get to the bottom of this by good old-fashioned legwork.

He decided to start with the hospital, since there were likely to be many that came into contact with him during his stay. At least that would verify–or not, whether the boy had the abilities he was reputed to have.

The first person he contacted was a woman named Anne, who had the bed next to Darryl when he was first in the hospital. He flashed an ID card as he introduced himself and Hayley Anderson at her front door.

“Sounds official,” she said. “You’d better come in. What did you say you wanted to know?”

She led them into the lounge. “Please, sit down. Can I get you some tea?”

“Er, no thank you. We'll try not to take up too much of your time. We’re here to ask you about hospital security. Shortly after you were discharged, there was a terrible to-do there and patients were worried that their security arrangements weren’t adequate.”

“Wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said, taking a seat on the sofa.

“I’m sure you must have heard on the news about the kidnapped women.”

“I did. What those poor women went through. It must have been awful.”

“It was,” he said, his niece’s face popping into his mind. “Do you remember Darryl?”

“Darryl? Of course I do! Yes, lovely girl, odd name though,” she told him. “What’s she got to do with that?”

“Er,” Girl? “Nothing,” he replied, a little shocked by her definition of Darryl. “I just need to ask you some questions about her.”

“Can’t see that one getting into trouble,” Anne said. “Breaking hearts, yes, but not getting into trouble. She was such a sweet thing. She was so pleased when I left her my magazines. Why do you need to know about her?”

Back at the office, Julian had been fighting with something about the three he met in the café. Alright one of them was Sergeant Cummings, but there was something about the other two. He just couldn’t put his finger on what it was that didn’t add up.

“Hayley? What was Darryl–the psychic boy’s mother’s name?”

“Just a moment,” she replied. “Ah, here it is–Gemma; Gemma Groves.”

“So that was him!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist on the table.

“Sorry?”

“The girl; the one from the café–Debbie, she called herself. She was Darryl Groves. It all makes sense, don’t you see?”

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“Hello,” Said Gemma, answering the phone.

“Hi, Gemma, it’s Ron. Is Darryl still asleep?”

“Yes, she hasn’t moved since you left. Why?” There was something about Ron’s tone that worried her.

“You need to wake her up now, get some stuff together and get out of there as quickly as possible.”

“What?”

“Don’t argue, please. This isn’t the time. Just pack some bags and meet me here at the station. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Ron, now just hold on a minute. What’s all this about?”

“It’s about Darryl’s hunch. I made a few enquiries and well, let’s just say I think it would be wise for you not to be there.”

“This is getting a little out of hand,” she scoffed. “I don’t think just because Darryl’s acted a little cautious that it means we’re in trouble.”

“Gemma,” he asked, pausing for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

She didn’t have to think. “Of course I do.”

“Well just do as I ask. Put a couple of bits and pieces into a bag and get a taxi down here.”

“You’d better have a damned good reason for this,” she said. “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

She put the phone down and although she wouldn’t have admitted it to Ron, she was more than a little scared.

“That was Ron, wasn’t it?” Darryl asked from the doorway.

She spun round, nearly knocking the phone off the sideboard. “How did you–?” she began, but the expression on Darryl’s face meant she didn’t have to finish. "You’re dressed already, I see,” she observed.

“Yes and I’ve put some things into my hold-all too. Shall I phone for a taxi while you get your stuff together?”

Gemma was taken aback. Darryl was so calm about everything and yet just a few moments ago, she’d been crying about getting caught up in stuff that scared her; stuff that she hadn’t asked for.

“Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be ready though, does it,” Darryl asked.

“Stop that!” Gemma chided. “Just phone the taxi company will you?” She stormed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, muttering and pulling stuff out of this drawer and that, throwing it in a heap on the bed.

“Sorry, Mum,” Darryl said from the doorway.

Gemma looked at the pretty little thing that used to be her son, trying hard to reconcile how this came to be. “It’s alright, honey. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh, yes,” Darryl said quickly. “The taxi will be here in–”

The car horn from outside negated the need for her to complete the sentence.

“Oh, bloody hell! Ask him to wait, would you?”

Within ten minutes, the taxi pulled up outside the police station and true to his word, Ron was already waiting outside. He paid the fare and helped them with their bags. “I’m just round the corner,” he told them.

Once in his car, Gemma wanted answers.

“I asked some questions at the station about Julian Croft and you don’t want to know what I was told.”

“Why? Is he a criminal or something?” she asked.

“No, but he works for a section of MI5 or something–very ‘hush-hush’ if you know what I mean. He’s one of the top men in a department of the security forces in this country that causes people to go missing. They’re a bit like the CIA in the States–a law unto themselves and–seemingly–accountable to no-one.”

“But surely, they’re on our side aren’t they?”

“Sort of. The thing is, if they’re interested in Darryl, the chances are, you’ll never see her again.”

“Oh, now you’re really being paranoid.”

Ron said nothing as he made a right turn down towards the sea front.

“I’m not being paranoid, Gemma. I’m only too aware of what kind of things these people get up to and I’m sure you wouldn’t want Darryl mixed up in all that, would you? I know I don’t.”

Gemma looked at the policeman, her eyes boring into his head and a thin ‘almost’ smile bent the corners of her mouth ever so slightly. “I thought you lot weren’t supposed to get emotionally involved.”

“That’s medical people, but you’re probably right. I’m probably making a really big mistake getting emotionally involved with you two.”

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Julian and Hayley stepped out of their car and walked across to the Groves’ front door. Julian knocked loudly. There was no reply and as he was about to knock for a second time, one of the neighbours happened to pass.

“You looking for the Groves’?” he enquired.

“We are. Are they not in?”

“They was,” the man said. “But you just missed ’em. Went off in a taxi, they did.”

“How long ago?”

“Like I said, you just missed ’em. Don’t know where they went, mind,” he said, then trundled off and left them to it.

“Shit!” Julian exclaimed. “This is starting to get on my nerves.”

Back at their office, Julian sat behind his desk and wondered what to tell the chairperson. She was a stickler for results and thus far, he’d had none. He picked up the phone.

“Hello? Yes, this is Julian Croft. Get Richard Sands here as soon as possible.”

“Do you think that’s wise, Julian?” Hayley asked.

“This is a situation that’s likely to drag on unless we do something positive–”

“Pro-activity, eh?”

“Precisely and the only way we’re likely to find the Groves kid now is by fighting fire with fire. If anyone can find him, Sands can.”

“Agreed,” she said. “But Sands isn’t exactly renowned for his–how can I put this?”

“Gentle approach?”

“Exactly. Sands rarely leaves his, er, ‘prey’ in the same condition he finds it in, does he?”

Julian thought for a moment. “We’ll have to see.”

Later, there was a knock on Julian’s office door.

“Come,” he said.

A short man, no taller than about five-five walked in. He was painfully thin and his face was drawn–almost cadaver-like. His nose was large and hooked and his deep-set eyes had a look of pure evil about them that was very nearly palpable–definitely not the sort of person you’d want to meet in a dark alley–despite his diminutive stature.

“Ah, Sands. So good of you to come,” Julian said without looking up.

The man just chuckled and Julian sat bolt upright in his chair to face the new arrival.

“Yes, and I warn you, Croft, I’m not someone who likes to be fucked about with. I do things my way, is that clear?”

Julian looked up at the man, whose eyes seemed to be glowing with a look of pure malevolence, and steepled his fingers in front of him. “I don’t care how you do the job. You can do it in a pink tutu for all the difference it will make to me. I just want it done. Is that clear?” he said and despite his assertiveness, it had little effect on Sands.

“You want the boy, right?”

“Yes and we need him–her–whatever, intact,” he paused, returning Sands’ stare. “Completely intact.”

Sands shrugged. “As you wish. I’ll need something to track him.”

“You’ll find anything pertinent to this downstairs. Take what you need.”

Sands’ thin lips appeared to bend into something that could possibly be loosely described as a smile, sending shivers up and down Julian’s back. A quick glance across the room told him that Hayley felt it too.

“Bloody hell!” she gasped. “He is alive, isn’t he?”

Julian nodded.

“Shit! And I thought The Omen was scary. Hard to believe he’s even real isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Julian said, visibly shaken after standing his ground. “Fortunately, we only use him when it’s absolutely necessary.”

“I’m still not sure if this isn’t going a little too far,” she replied. “What if the kid can’t handle Sands?”

“Like I said. We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

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To be continued…