‘So you don’t know him at all, do you? I’m sorry, but I fail to see—’
‘People like Gregg don’t change. Evil traits run through their blood. He’s no different now from back then, just feels he has more power.’
‘How would you—?’
‘I’ve never stopped watching him, even from a distance,’ he says. This is becoming more sinister by the second. He glances at his watch. ‘How much time do you have?’ he asks.
‘As long as it takes.’
‘I’ll try and explain,’ he says. ‘My grandparents brought me up; my parents were killed when I was very young. I was accepted into the local grammar school. My grandparents, it meant the world to them. Gregg was in the same year as me. I hated him. A complete bastard, bullying and manipulating. Most of the kids were either scared or in awe of him.’ He turns his attention to his mug; it’s pain I see.
‘Go on, Billy,’ I say softly.
‘There was a school trip to Cornwall. We stayed at a youth hostel, just down the coast from where you live.’
‘So, this is why you were hanging around at the beach.’
He nods. ‘My best friend, more of a brother.’ He clenches his fists and takes a moment’s breather. ‘We were close, but he was weak in the presence of Gregg. On the last but one day, we argued. He said he was going with Gregg and his mates over to Trevellas Porth, probably to spite me; said I was a jerk. I didn’t try hard enough to stop him, I let him go. I was angry with him. But, as the sun went down, he didn’t come back. I was starting to feel bad, worried. Gregg and his gang returned without him.’ He shakes his head and pauses.
‘We had a fight, Gregg and me. I wanted to kill him – if it hadn’t been for his mates, I may have. That… smirk, I still see it now. I knocked him to the floor, when I pulled his head up towards me, all I could see was the hard rock behind. I’m pretty sure I would have smashed his skull back on it, in that moment. But I was pulled off. I ran as fast as I could across the cliff path to where they’d supposedly left Tom; as I was running, a red helicopter flew over. I stopped, puked up, then continued on.’ I see tears in his eyes. This is the trauma memory, nothing to do with being a soldier.
‘I looked down from the cliff; saw a small body being pulled from the water, someone giving him mouth to mouth. CPR. Then, I saw the guy shake his head. He was gone. Just like that, gone forever.’
Now, it makes sense; Billy must have walked the path from St Agnes to Trevellas Porth, the night Charlie spotted him. ‘Gosh, this is awful, Billy, really. It was Gregg’s fault too – you’re sure?’
‘Positive. He bragged about it.’ He shakes his head. ‘He knew. Knew Tom couldn’t swim. Thought he was clever didn’t he? Said Tom failed the initiation activity, laughed in my face.’
‘Oh my God, the bastard!’ Why am I surprised?
‘The thing is, Eve, he was responsible, yes. But I was to blame. Tom was like a brother; I let him down. Let him go.’
‘No, you can’t think like that, Billy. You were not responsible; you were a child yourself. What were you – thirteen, fourteen?’
‘Fourteen. After this, I dive-bombed out of everything. I couldn’t get my head around it. So much hate inside me; I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get the images out my head. I rejected everything I had, worse still, the two people who I loved most. My grandparents. I couldn’t reach them, you see, the guilt. I hated the world, I was so angry.’
‘That’s so understandable; you needed help.’
‘I wouldn’t let anyone near me. They tried, my grandparents. I went off the scale, ended up signing up, leaving the country, for years to come. Eventually, moved into special services; channelled my anger, but always running away.’
‘Makes sense. I wonder how many end up in services, only to get away. What about your grandparents?’
‘I let them go. Never had the chance to speak to them, to put things right. Every night, I go to sleep knowing they died with broken hearts. I did that too.’ Now I see the real reason for his traumatised brain.
‘Oh, Billy; this is all so sad.’
‘So, this is why I’m here. I’ve waited for my day; all this time, to have my time with him.’ He clenches his fists. ‘I’ve waited too long.’
‘I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you. But surely you realise, whatever it is you intend to do, it won’t change anything, other than land yourself in trouble. Is it worth it?’
‘Yes, 100 per cent it will be. Anyway, I’m a professional. I don’t intend to be caught.’
I completely understand where he’s coming from. ‘You said something about others wanting to find me too?’
‘I think you know who I’m talking about.’ He raises an eyebrow at me. Do I? I feel myself blush. I ignore his comment, not wanting to dig a deeper hole.
‘Remember, I’ve been tracking him for years; he was never far from my thoughts or radar. When I returned to the UK, earlier this year, I dug some more. Seems he was a very naughty boy some years ago, wasn’t he? My feeling is, you know all about it.’ I remain mute. I’m not giving away anything yet; I need to know what he’s discovered.
‘A partner of Havers, Walker and Jenkins, wasn’t he?’
I nod; even the mention of this sends shivers down my spine. ‘Why are you asking these questions?’
‘Involved in a money-laundering scam; by all accounts he masterminded the entire affair. Unsurprisingly, he walked away, relatively untouched.’
‘He lost his practising certificate, his reputation. But, yes, that was the extent of it. I feel I need to say… I didn’t realise this at the time, by the way. We’d split up by the time this all came out, other than his contact time with my son, Jack. I purposely didn’t involve myself in anything to do with him. It was some time after, when he returned to, shall we say, pay me a visit, before I found out.’
‘Sure. How much do you know about what happened, when the shit hit the fan?’
I shake my head in honesty. ‘The bare minimum. Through Chinese whispers. It sounds lame, but I really couldn’t bear to—’
‘It’s okay, I get it,’ he says. ‘The other partner involved, he went to prison and the young lad…’ he coughs ‘… committed suicide – yeah right!’ God, no. ‘Gregg got away relatively scot-free.’
I feel sick. Images of the young lad being flung down the steps from my house, whilst I looked on, did nothing, now intimidate me. Why didn’t I go to the police? I could have saved his life. But I truly didn’t think he was going to end up dead. I had no idea at the time what it was all about. Should I have tried harder to find out? Do I ultimately have blood on my hands? I could have changed the outcome.
‘I should have known,’ falls out of my mouth. ‘Should have done something sooner. I knew he was dangerous.’
‘How? Come on, no one could blame you; give yourself a break.’
‘I knew he was up to something, something bad.’ I still can’t bring myself to admit it, but it was this lad’s plight that finally made me flee. Or worse, my mind floats back like a feather to standing in the study, loading your flash-drive. I stopped it after thirty seconds; after the lad was headbutted to the ground, blood leaching from his nose, I couldn’t watch any more. I fled. All this time, I’ve had the crime scene in its full glory on the flash-drive at home.
‘Hey,’ Billy urges me. ‘I perhaps more than anyone understand how he operates. You became one of his victims too.’ He’s being kind, but it’s too late: I do blame myself. At the time I could only think about getting Jack to safety but, now I look back, it wasn’t enough.
‘Who was the lad? What was his name?’
‘Toby Jenkins.’