“‘Finished wrapping up the
baby?’ he asked, sneeringly. ‘Leave him there and get yourself over
here with these two, where I can keep an eye on you.’”
“I acquiesced immediately, but
took the butchery knife with me, holding it pointing downwards,
hidden in a fold of my skirt. I made sure that I took my place to
the right of Sam and Peter, with plenty of room for my right arm to
be able to raise the knife to plunge it into the pig butcher’s
chest. The thunder rumbled over us again as I took my place,
although this time it seemed quieter than before and I fleetingly
wondered if the storm was passing over us, which wasn’t at all what
I wanted to happen. I had hoped to be able to use the cover of the
thunderclaps to carry out my plan and if the storm passed us by, I
would have to formulate another plan. But, before I could begin
trying to produce a new strategy, William decided to try and
manipulate the odds stacked against him.”
“‘Peter.’ He gasped out,
struggling to speak over the cord which was constricting his
airway. ‘Peter, come and help me, son, please. Get the cord off
that bastard and release me. I’ll pay you for it. I’ll buy you
anything you want, but hit that bugger and release me. Aagh!’”
“His words were cut short as
Dennison yanked on the cord again, constricting his airway even
further so that William gasped for breath and turned a horrible
shade of purple in the lamplight. But Peter answered him as though
they were having a conversation in the kitchen at the shop.”
“‘I won’t help you, Mr
Drinkwater. That man said you watched him kill Simon and you didn’t
do anything to stop him, so I won’t do anything to stop him,
either. If he wants to strangle you he can. I don’t care.’”
“Dennison laughed out loud at
this, his mouth wide open and the red light of madness once again
visible in his eyes.”
“‘Did you hear that, armless? He
doesn’t think you are worth saving and he’s right. He has enough
brains to work that much out, the moron, and he’s capable of
speaking out. He’s going to have to die, along with the rest of
you. I’m not risking my neck, pretending that he’s too stupid to be
able to understand what’s happening. But, you first, Drinkwater.
I’ve kept you waiting long enough now, I reckon. You’ve had time to
feel the fear of death. It’s time now for you to go and meet my lad
face-to-face again and explain to him why you were too important to
die in France. Go and give him your excuses.’”
Nana Lymer paused for a moment
to give herself time to recover from the overpowering feeling of
despair and helplessness that engulfed her as she recalled that
night. Victoria was just about to put out her hand to grasp the arm
of the older woman, to show sympathy and understanding when Nana
began to speak again.
“The butcher hoisted William,
and the chair he was tied to, bodily off the floor, wrapped his
huge red hands around his neck and squeezed with all his prodigious
strength, while, at first, William’s legs kicked out trying
desperately to make contact with some part of the butcher’s
anatomy, but then they swung loose above the wooden planking. His
gasping breath was cut off within seconds and his face turned an
even deeper shade of puce, until his head lolled sideways and he
was finally dead. When the pig butcher realised that William had
breathed his last he unlocked his hands from around William’s neck
and let William and the chair fall to the floor. They landed with a
crash that shook the wooden building, which was echoed by the
thunder that suddenly seemed to be redoubling its efforts, rather
than passing over.”
“For a while, nobody moved. The
thunder roared over our heads and we all stood and stared at
William’s body, supine on the floor. Even Dennison seemed taken
aback by what he had done, because he too stood and stared at
William. I think he was finally realising that killing those he
felt were to blame for his son’s death wasn’t going to bring his
son back and William’s murder hadn’t lessened the despair that
gripped him. In that moment, I actually felt sorry for him because
his revenge was leaving him as bitter and twisted as before and
with no other road left to travel. It was an empty victory for
him.”
Silence fell as Nana Lymer
stopped speaking, reliving the nightmare of that time. Victoria
didn’t want to interrupt the silence, in case Nana was only
stopping to think how she was going to describe what happened next.
If she spoke now she might disturb her grandmother’s train of
thought and she didn’t want to do that. She wondered how close it
was to two o’clock, when Mr Vine was coming and, as the thought
crystallised in her mind, there was a knock on the side door.
“That’s Mr Vine, Victoria! Run
down and let him in before he goes round to the shop door. Hurry
now!”
Victoria almost galloped out of
the room and down the stairs to the side door, trying not to make
too much noise and so warn her mother that there was a visitor at
the house. She was very aware that the wall to her left, between
the stairs and the shop, was only made out of plasterboard and
absolutely useless at deadening any sound. Her hand slipped on the
Yale lock as she tried to turn it to open the door and she grabbed
frantically at it, desperate that Mr Vine shouldn’t knock again.
Finally, she managed to open the door and saw Mr Vine standing on
the doorstep in front of her. He was accompanied by another young
man, who was smiling as brightly as Mr Vine.
“Victoria. Nice to see you
again!” Mr Vine said, as Victoria ushered them both through the
door and upstairs to Nana Lymer’s bedroom. Mr Vine wasn’t perturbed
about entering a lady’s bedroom or having to conduct his business
in that bedroom and he strode across the floor to the bed, with his
hand out ready to shake hands.
“It’s lovely to see you again,
Mrs Lymer.” He said. “May I introduce my business partner, David
Lethbridge? I’ve brought him with me in case we need another body
to witness anything. Got to keep things legal, you know.”
Mrs Lymer smiled back at
him.
“You were always a clever lad,
Anthony and I see you haven’t changed in that way, even if you have
grown older since the last time we met.”
Mr Vine laughed out loud at
that, looking and sounding completely at his ease with Victoria’s
grandmother. Mr Lethbridge moved forward for his turn at the
handshake, and then seated himself on the stool at Nana’s dressing
table. Mr Vine took the bedside chair that Victoria had vacated to
answer the door, which left Victoria standing alone in the middle
of the floor. She felt slightly awkward, a feeling she had never
had in that room, but realised that her presence wasn’t required at
that time.
“I’ll go and wait in my bedroom,
Nana,” she said. “If you need anything just shout me and I’ll come
and get it for you.”
“Good girl.” Nana said, grateful
for Victoria’s tact and impatient to get this interview over,
before Bia found out that she had visitors. “Perhaps Mr Vine and Mr
Lethbridge would like a cup of tea before we start?”
“No, Mrs Lymer,” Mr Vine
answered. “I would love to stay and chat about the old days, but
I’ve got another client to see this afternoon. But now we’ve
re-established contact I’ve no intention of letting you get away
with not seeing me regularly again, so I’m going to call in on my
free days and we can chat for an hour or so. I think you’ve got a
definite purpose for wishing to see me today, so let’s get that
sorted out and your mind put at rest, shall we?”
Mrs Lymer smiled again;
gratified that he could still get straight to the point when he
felt it necessary. Victoria slipped out of the bedroom and crossed
the landing to her own room. She left her bedroom door ajar so that
she would be able to hear if Nana wanted anything and then picked
up another of her set books for her English ‘O’ level. ‘Jane Eyre’
wasn’t working its usual magic on her that afternoon though and,
before long, she abandoned her attempts at revision and sat on her
bed listening to the rumble of voices coming from Nana’s room. She
couldn’t make out any individual words or phrases, but she could
make out the difference between her Nana’s speech and Mr Vine’s
remarks. Time passed quickly as she waited, constantly on edge in
case the shop wasn’t busy and her mother chose to come upstairs and
find Mr Vine in Nana’s room.
Another fifteen minutes passed
and then Victoria distinctly heard the telephone ring downstairs.
The telephone was located in the downstairs hall near the side door
and its ring was often unheard in the shop if there were plenty of
customers in there. Victoria wondered if she should go downstairs
and answer it, but she heard the kitchen door open and her mother’s
voice as she answered the caller. She listened intently to see if
she could work out the subject of the call, hoping it was a
customer placing an order for delivery at the weekend, but as her
mother’s voice rose in pitch, she didn’t have to strain very hard
to hear.
“He’s here now?” was the first
part of the conversation that Victoria heard in full and a cold
drip seemed to run down her spine. Whoever it was on the other end
of the line could only be talking about Mr Vine, Victoria was sure
and confirmation came rapidly after that.
“Right! Well thank you for
letting me know about it. I’ll go and sort it out straight
away!”
It was with a sinking heart that
Victoria heard her mother mounting the stairs, each heavy step on
each tread banging out her disapproval and bad temper. She wasn’t
sure if she should stay in her bedroom or try to warn her
grandmother that her mother was on the warpath, but any choice was
taken out of her hands when her mother reached the top of the
stairs. She strode straight into Nana’s bedroom and Victoria rushed
across the landing and halted in the doorway. Her mother had come
to a stop in the middle of the room and her face was purple with
temper as she glared at the two men, who both rose to their feet as
she entered the room.
“I’ve just had Amy Butler on the
‘phone, telling me that young Mr Vine is in my house, by
appointment, discussing legal matters with my mother. I don’t like
finding out from comparative strangers what my own mother is doing
and doing it in my house! I’d like to know what you think you are
doing here.”
Victoria’s mother had her hands
on her hips and her face was disfigured by the angry scowl she was
wearing. Victoria held her breath, embarrassed that her mother
could be so rude in front of other people, but also worried that
Nana wouldn’t have had time to finish what she wanted to do with Mr
Vine. But it wasn’t long before Victoria was under fire from her
mother.
“I suppose you organised this,
did you? How else would my mother have been able to get in touch
with a solicitor, unless you helped her to do it?” Mrs Wilson was
incandescent with rage, not even able to keep her mind on one
subject at a time. “You’ll pay for this Victoria. I’ll teach you to
go against my wishes.”
Her mother paused to take a
breath and, for the first time in her life, Victoria was able to
answer her mother rationally and calmly.
“I didn’t know that Nana wasn’t
allowed to see her own solicitor,” she retorted. “You’ve never said
that I had to keep other people away from her. But I would like to
know why Nana isn’t allowed to see her solicitor? It’s a right that
every person has, even if they’ve been arrested for an offence, and
Nana hasn’t been arrested, has she?”
Bia Wilson didn’t have a reply
for this. It was an afternoon for firsts, because this was the
first time that she had ever been caught without having a put-down
remark ready to use and it was the first time that another person
got the last word in any discussion with her. It was at this point
that Mr Vine stepped into the conversation, quietly but very
firmly.
“Your Nana has never been
arrested for anything in her life. She’s been a pillar of society
for years.” Mr Vine spoke to Victoria, but then turned and
addressed his next remarks to Victoria’s mother.
“With-holding the right for a
person to see a solicitor is an offence, Mrs Wilson, when that
person has expressed a desire to be in touch with their legal
representative. I’m sure you didn’t intend to commit an offence,
did you?”
Victoria’s mother had had the
rug pulled out from underneath her feet and wasn’t coping well at
all with it. She tried to bluster her way out of it.
“I didn’t know that she wanted
to see you,” she snapped, “So don’t be trying to get clever with
me, young man.”
Mr Vine wasn’t going to let this
matter drop.
“What is your objection to your
mother seeing me?” he asked. “Why shouldn’t she talk to me?”
Bia Wilson lost her temper and
her capacity to disguise her reasoning went with it.
“She’ll have got you here to
change her will!” Bia shouted. “She doesn’t want me to inherit the
shop when she dies, after the years of work I’ve put into it, so
she’s going to change it to do me out of my rightful
inheritance!”
Bia almost choked as the spittle
in her mouth went back down her throat. In the silence which
ensued, Nana Lymer’s quiet calm voice was like music compared with
her daughter’s screeching.
“It’s no business of yours
whether I decide to change my will or not, but I’m sure you’ll be
happy to know that you haven’t been ‘done out of your rightful
inheritance’ as you put it. But, while I’m still alive, I’d like
you to acknowledge the fact that this house and shop don’t legally
belong to you. They still are my property, so please don’t come
into my bedroom, shouting the odds about what is happening in your
house. I have no wish to be vindictive, but please be aware that I
could ask you to leave at any time and then the ‘years of work’ you
have put into the shop will be nullified.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Victoria’s
mother had managed to regain her voice. “Who would look after you
if I wasn’t here? Who’d put up with running up and downstairs a
hundred times a day, catering to your every whim? Anyway, you’re
not right in the head. What about those nights when you wander the
streets and you don’t know who you are or where you live?”