The Unmaking Of Ellie Rook Episode 61

Icatch sight of her at last, on the crumbling viewing platform. Her coat is a brighter green than the living things, the grass and the leaves and the undergrowth. She’s standing at the top of the falls, where everything collapses into nothingness.

One slip. Oblivion. I creep closer. “Who knows what you can do when you need to escape the inescapable?” “Mum... Mum! Come back.”

The crash of the water whips away my words before they get to her.

Mum takes a step closer to the edge of the falls.

Stares straight ahead, hands on hips like a warrior queen.

Beyond her, there is only a wet mist. When she glances back at me, her face is in shadow.

There are dark mysteries in her eyes which I now understand.

She stares out at the emptiness, a still, lonely figure on the edge.

“What are you thinking?” I shout. “Are you crazy? You had a chance to tell the police.

“It was your chance to get away from him, get him locked up!”

Futility

She shakes her head, and I recognise that little gesture of futility, of powerlessness. I grew up with it.

“I can never be free of him. You think the authorities can keep me safe?”

She gives a chilly little laugh. “Look at what he did to Shelby,” she says in a hollow voice, “what he’s planning to do to both of us.”

“But you can press charges!” I reply quickly.

“Lorraine says, what he’s done to us, it’s criminal.

“All you have to do is tell her your story and she’ll do the rest. Why are you shielding him?”

“I can’t go through that, testifying against him in a courtroom.

“Do you really want me to put your father in prison? What would that do to River?

“And anyway, don’t tell me Offshore Dave wouldn’t be waiting for me outside.

“There’s no hiding place – your father will always be pulling the strings.

“I have to do what I should have done all along.”

Suddenly, River blunders out of the woods, breathing heavily.

“Dad’s right behind me,” he gasps. “He’s spoiling for a fight.

“And that policewoman must have connected the caravan with reports of what happened in the hills.

“She called for back-up. There’s at least two cars just pulled into the yard.”

Abyss

I try to shush him, but the water takes up the sound and hurls it into the abyss.

Everything is careering down a 60-foot drop – water, sound, reason.

I wail my mother’s name again, and she looks back for a second. Her eyes are dull with resignation.

“Don’t do it,” says River. “Not now. You’re safe now. It’s over.”

He tries to push past me, but I grab him, thinking he’ll make it worse.

And then Dad explodes on the scene. His blue eyes are wild and searching. He looks past us and sees Imelda, standing at the edge of the falls.

I expect him to bellow at her, but instead, he tells us to stand aside, and he picks his way towards her over the mud.

“Imelda, darling. It’s all right. You’re safe now.” His voice is honey.

“Come back now. Come home with me and we’ll get this sorted out.”

“You’re not listening!” my mother yells. “You’ve never listened to me!”

She’s competing to be heard above the cacophony of the waterfall.

It’s ironic, somehow, that the one time she raises her voice to him, the effect is lost.

“It’s dangerous up here, Imelda. I’ve always said it – these paths are treacherous. You’re too close to the edge.”

Final episode tomorrow.

Copyright Sandra Ireland 2019, extracted from The Unmaking Of Ellie Rook, published by Polygon, an imprint of Birlinn Ltd, at £8.99.

Dixon Hawke returns

Criminals, murderers… and spivs beware. The greatest sleuth of them all is back for a few days, due to popular demand.

This is no ordinary detective. As anyone over the age of 40 will know, he is the incomparable Dixon Hawke, a throwback to the golden age of gumshoe fiction, standing alongside Dick Barton, Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple and G K Chesterton’s Father Brown.

Hawke, along with his trusty sidekick Tommy Burke, appeared in several DC Thomson publications, starting around 1912. The stories were done to a recipe.

The traits, characters and type of crimes he was involved in would be faithfully adhered to by the many writers who would submit stories for consideration.

The stories would be judged as usable, or not, and the successful ones made it into print.

It was a system that worked well. The collective imaginations of all those writers led Hawke and Tommy into some incredible, amusing and quite dark places.

We regularly get requests to run a few more Dixon Hawke stories, and so, from Thursday this week, we’ll publish a few more, before our new serial begins next week. Enjoy!

There’s no hiding place – your father will always be pulling the strings. I have to do what I should have done all along