Minette Walters - Disordered Minds

No man is so good as to be tree trom allevil,
nor so bad as to be worth nothing. Michael Crichton

*1*

COLLITON PARK, HIGHDOWN,BOURNEMOUTH
MONDAY, MAY 4,1970,1:30 P.M.

It wasn't much of a park, barelyhalf an acre of wilted grass off Colliton Way where local people walked theirdogs in the mornings and evenings. During the day it was hardly frequented atall, except by truants who hung around the trees that lined the fences. Thepolice rarely visited it and, anyway, there was a hundred yards of open spacebetween the only entrance and the offenders. In the time it took two overweightcoppers to lumber across, the teens were long gone, vaulting the low fencesinto the gardens that formed the rear perimeter. As complaints came in thickand fast from homeowners whenever this happened, the police, preferring an easylife, tended to leave the youngsters alone.

The logic ran that while they werein the park they weren't thieving, and it was better to turn a blind eye andconcentrate official efforts in the city center. To the cynical police mind,truanting came low on their list of criminal behavior.

Situated at the poorer end ofHighdown, Colliton Way had little going for it. Unemployment was high, schoolattendance poor, and the proposed new buildings on the acres of waste groundbehind it, which had promised jobs and houses, had faltered to a halt. The onlysite under construction was the Brackham & Wright tool factory, which wasa planned replacement for the present, antiquated building on GlazeboroughRoad. This was no consolation to its workers, many of whom lived in CollitonWay, because up-to-date technology and automation always brought redundancies.

The most persistent truants werethree boys. They were charismatic and generous as long as their leadershipwasn't challenged, dangerously violent when it was. It made them a magnet forunhappy children who misinterpreted generosity for affection and cruelty forregard, and none of the children understood how damaged the boys were. Howcould they, when the boys didn't know it themselves? Barely able to read orwrite, only interested in immediate gratification and with no rein over theiraggressive impulses, they thought they were in control of their lives.

That May Monday followed theaimless pattern of the many before. So entrenched was the boys' truancy thattheir mothers no longer bothered to get them out of bed. Better to let sleepingdogs lie, was the women's thinking, than face a beating because their overgrownsons were angry at being woken. The boys were incapable of getting up. None ofthem came home before the early hours, if they came home at all, and they werealways so drunk their sleep was stupor. All three mothers had asked for them tobe taken into care at one time or another, but their resolve had never lastedvery long. Fear of reprisal, and misguided love for their absent firstborns, hadalways effected a change of mind. It might have been different if there hadbeen men around, but there weren't, so the women did what their sons told them.

The boys had picked up a couple ofthirteen-year-old girls in the center of town and brought them to the park. Theskinny one, who had her ten-year-old brother in tow, held no interest for them;the other, a well-developed girl with flirtatious eyes, did. The girls sat oppositeeach other on a bench seat with their knees drawn up to their chins and toestouching while the four boys sprawled on the grass at their feet, staring attheir knickers. Wearing knee-high boots, miniskirts and crocheted see-throughtops with black bras underneath, the girls understood exactly where their powerlay and it amused them. They spoke to each other about sex, and pointedlyignored the boys.

The response was lackluster. Theboys passed round a bottle of stolen vodka but showed no interest in the crudeflirting and, without an endgame, all sport grows tedious, even cock-teasing.The skinny girl, annoyed by the boys' lack of interest in her, teased them forbeing virgins, but the taller girl, Cill, swung her legs to the ground andshuffled her skirt down her bum. "This is silly," she said."C'mon, Lou. We're going back down town."

Her friend, a small undernourishedclone with smudged black eyes and pale pink lips, performed her ownskirt-wriggling act and stood up. They both aped the fashion sense of CathyMcGowan from their favorite pop show, Ready, Steady, Go!, with beltsworn at hip level and hair ironed straight to fall in heavy fringes over theirforehead. It suited Cill, whose face was strong enough to take it, but Lou,who was tiny, like Twiggy, wanted to cut her hair in an urchin style. Cillwouldn't allow it. It was part of their friendship pact that they looked alike,or as near alike as was possible for a well-developed teenager and one who hadto stuff Kleenex down her bra.

"You coming, or what?"Cill demanded of Lou's ten-year-old brother, nudging him with her toe."Your dad'll string you up if the cops catch you, Billy. You see if hedon't."

"Leave me alone," thechild mumbled tipsily.

"Jee-sus." The drink had made her quarrelsome and shecast a scornful eye over the prone bodies. "Blokes are so fuckingpathetic. Me and Lou's had the same as you, but we ain't passed out."

"Don't push your luck,"said one of the boys. He wasn't the tallest, but he was dark-haired anddark-eyed, and to her immature mind he looked like Paul McCartney.

Another, a freckle-faced redhead,reached a hand up Lou's thigh. "Slut," he jeered, squeezing hard.

She squeaked and pulled away,smacking at him. "Virgin, virgin, virgin!" she chanted. "Youain't never gonna get it, you're too fucking ugly." He made a grab for herfoot and she wailed at Cill to get him off. "He's gonna pull meover."

The taller girl put a boot on hischest. "Let her go!"

He relaxed his hold with a grin."What d'you expect? You're a coupla tarts, ain't you?"

She maneuvered a stiletto heelover his nipple. "You wanna say that again?"

He was visibly pubescent, withhair above his lip and acne crowding his neck, and he was too drunk to be intimidated."You're a fat tart," he slurred lazily," 'n' you've been laid sooften I could park a car up yer cunt. Want me to try?"

His two friends rolled onto theirfronts and watched the tableau with a gleam in their eye. To a girl with moreexperience, it would have been a warning sign, but Cill was a novice. Shebrought her full weight down on her heel as she stepped over him, dancing awaybefore he could catch her. "'N' don't never call me fat again or I'll putmy heel on your cock next time."

The redhead clutched at his chest."That bloody hurt!"

"It was supposed to,dickhead." She jerked her chin at the other girl as she started to walkaway.

But there was no such easy escapefor Lou. She was trapped against the bench and lost her balance when thedark-haired boy made a lunge for her. He grabbed her arms as she fell andspread-eagled her on the grass, and her wails of fear brought Cill runningback. Their mothers should have warned them about the dangers of whipping uptestosterone, but the only advice either had been given was: if you dress likea tart, you'll get yourself raped, and it'll be your own fault when it happens.

Believing she was streetwise, itwas Cill who was the more naive. With animal instinct, Lou became catatonicimmediately and held no attraction for the aroused adolescents. Cill foughtback determinedly and took the full brunt of the assault. She kept calling onBilly to run for help but, at ten and drunk, all he could do was bury his headin his arms.

It was when they pulled her by herhair into the lee of the trees that Cill gave up. The pain was indescribableand sent tears coursing down her made-up cheeks. It masked all the other painsshe experienced. All three wanted her she was the dominatrix and they took it in turns to have her. Thedark one raped her twice. She was too young to understand psychological trauma,but the ripping of her clothes so loved and so longed for the sweat, heat and filth of a prolongedgang bang and their leering, triumphant faces as they repeatedly violated herdestroyed her in a way that their overexcited, briefly sustained penetrationscould not.