A Ruthless Need, page 23
‘Aye; aye, you could say you are.’
‘What’s in the wind, Meg?’
‘I’m not sure, lass. I’m not sure. If I opened me mouth now I might be doing somebody a great disservice. But as you’ve said afore, things are not right in this house, and there’s a reason for it; there’s bound to be. Anyway, I’m goin’ to phone your friends now and tell Mr Richard that you’ve got a daughter and you’re puttin’ her name down for one of those fancy schools; or is it just the lads they do that with?’
‘Oh, Meg!’
‘Now, now, stop it!’
Meg got off the side of the bed and slapped Lizzie’s hand none too gently, saying, ‘Don’t let your energy drain away in tears. Just remember, you’ve got a lovely daughter; you’ve got good friends in Mr Richard and his family, and you’ve got me. Not that that is anything to brag about, lass, but you know what they say: any port in a storm.’
As Meg, standing in the doorway, wagged her finger towards her bed Lizzie thought to herself that, in the mentioning of her friends, Meg had omitted both Geoff and his father. Yes, his father perhaps, but why Geoff?
Five
Ted Honeysett glanced first to the left and then to the right along the main road before he slipped over the bank and into the brushwood; and a rabbit would have made no more sound than his feet on the undergrowth.
It was towards the end of March and the days were lengthening; although the day had been dull, with high winds and showers foretelling the approach of April. The pheasant season had finished on the first of February, but salmon fishing had started then, and the trout a few days ago. He was well acquainted with the dates, although they meant nothing to him. Yet, he had become wary of late, because he did not want to get involved with the big boys scooping both fish and fowl indiscriminately, and causing the landowners up the river to tear their hair.
Anyway, his purpose in entering the wood this night was not to do even a small amount of poaching, but some spying. Five minutes earlier, he had seen Mrs Boneford that was, or Miss Bradford-Brown that used to be, making her way along by the river bank, not on a bike this time, but on foot. And he smiled to himself as he thought he could tell her that she was taking a walk for nothing, because the signpost was lying on the grass again.
By! that signpost had been in some positions during the past weeks. By! it had. And then there were the notes stuck in the old elm. Well, the signpost was in the grass and the note was in the old elm, and she would have her journey for nowt the night. And it was just as well, if she did but know, because if he knew anything, sooner or later there would be a bang like a time bomb going off. What that pair didn’t know was that the old man was on their track.
One night, he himself had been surprised by the unmistakable sound of someone moving carefully through the wood beyond the scrub bank: it had brought him into his natural stiff stillness. He hadn’t known of anyone being in the wood; and yet, at the same time as that hussy and Geoff emerged into the open, he saw below him the figure of her father standing behind a beech tree. He had waited, holding his breath, fully expecting the old fellow to stride forward and knock hell out of young Geoff, at least with his tongue, for he’d be no match with his fists; even if Geoff Fulton had only one good arm, being in the army, he would have known how to use it.
Well, he smiled to himself as, bent double, he cautiously picked his way along the bank to where he had a view of the barn and also the end of the wood.
Pulling his old mac around his knees, he crouched on the ground to await events after the old fellow, hoping to confront them both in the barn, would find only his daughter there.
After raising his head slightly, his whole body stiffened and he could scarcely contain an audible sound of surprise as there, across the way on the mound at the end of the wood, hidden only by some low scrub, he saw a crouching figure; and what had brought the sound from him was the fact that he could also make out the butt end of a rifle resting across a low branch.
He straightened up from the knees, exclaiming to himself, ‘Good God; he means to pot them.’
What action he would have taken next, he never knew, for suddenly there she was, the girl, or the woman as she was now, emerging from the wood: and she had seen what he had seen, for she was running hard at the figure and yelling, ‘Stay where you are, Geoff!’ And at this, the figure behind the mound stood up, and to his utter amazement, Ted saw they had clashed and were struggling.
He himself was standing upright now. When he heard the crack of the gun, he thrust his forearm across his eyes for a moment and screwed up his face. But the next instant he was bounding down the bank; and there she was, standing with her hands cupping her face, her mouth wide open, staring down at the sprawled figure with the blood pouring from his neck.
‘My God! miss. What…what have you done?’
He was standing close beside her, and she showed no surprise at seeing him but said, ‘It…it went off. It…it went off. I was trying to get it away from him. It…it went off. He…he was going to shoot Geoff.’ And she looked towards the barn, seeming surprised now that Geoff wasn’t visible; and he said, ‘He’s not there. He left a message.’
‘What?’
‘Well, you know…in the tree and…and—’ he pointed his finger, wagging it towards where the signpost lay.
‘Oh! Oh!’ She put up her hand and started to scratch the rim of her hair, then she looked at him as if seeing him for the first time and said, ‘It…it went off, Mr Honeysett. It went off.’
He looked about him now, bewildered. The twilight was closing in. He brought his gaze back on her; then looked towards her father again, and now she muttered, ‘What will I do? Get Mother?’
‘No! No! Look, I’ll go and get Geoff. He…he should be back now; it’s…it’s time for the bus. Look; come along, miss…missis.’ He took her arm and led her towards the barn, and there, pressing her inside, he lifted his finger to her as if he were admonishing a child, saying, ‘Now stay there. Don’t move; just stay there. I’ll bring Geoff. He’ll know what to do. D’you hear?’
‘Yes. Yes, Mr Honeysett, I hear.’ She closed her eyes and nodded to him, then lay back against the wall of the barn. And now leaving her, he took to his heels and ran some way along by the river bank, then up on to the main road. And he continued to run until he had to stop to get his breath, and as he did so the bus came around the corner and stopped a few yards from him. But to his dismay the only passengers to alight were Mrs Ryebank and her daughter, which meant they had missed the other bus that stopped at Fuller’s crossroads and so would now have a good mile and a half to walk home. They would be going by the Fultons’ place, and that meant he couldn’t run any more without causing comment.
When he eventually reached the house, instead of going in by the front gate he went round the back, through the gate from the field and into the yard.
It was almost dark now and he looked about him, hoping for a sign of Geoff before knocking at the kitchen door where, he felt, his appearance alone would cause comment. It was opened by the old woman, the evacuee one, and he said to her, ‘Is Geoff in?’ And she peered into the darkness, saying, ‘Who is it?’
‘I’m Ted Honeysett. Is he in?’
At that moment he saw the figure of Geoff. He was pressing the old woman aside, and he came and stood on the step and said, ‘You want me, Ted?’
‘Aye, Geoff. Have you…have you got a minute?’ He tried to make his voice sound ordinary.
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He stepped out into the yard, pulling the door behind him. And now, his voice changing, Ted muttered, ‘Come away over here for a minute.’
‘What’s up? What’s up with you?’
‘Something’s happened. Bad. She’s…she’s shot her dad.’
There was a silence between them for a moment, and Geoff didn’t break it by saying, ‘What d’you say? What d’you mean?’ and Ted growled at him, ‘Did y’hear what I said? I haven’t gone off me head. I said, something’s happened. She’s shot her dad.’
‘My God! D’you mean that?’
‘Aye, I mean that. Why d’you think I’m here? I’ve run me bloody self out of wind. Got the shock of me life. She…she came across him, her dad, the rifle cocked for you.’
‘For me?’
‘Aye, for you. Who else? He thought you were meetin’ her. And she thought so an’ all; she thought you were in the barn; she hadn’t got the note. Well, I’ll explain about that on the way. Get your coat, will you, an’ come? Bring a flashlight, and put a move on, ’cos I’ve left her in the barn.’
‘You’ve left…? You mean?’
‘Aye! Aye! I mean her, the one you’ve been meetin’. Look, I know what I know. Just get your coat, man, ’cos we might be in for a long session.’
A minute later when Geoff appeared at the kitchen door pulling on his coat, Meg said, ‘Aren’t you goin’ to finish your supper?’
‘I…I won’t be long. Put it in the oven; I’ll get it when I come back.’
He was out of the gate now hurrying along the road, Ted having almost to trot to keep up with him and between gasps trying to explain what he had seen: ‘As I said, I could have told her you weren’t there. She hadn’t seen the note in the tree. Aw, man, it’s no good makin’ growling sounds; I get about, and you should bloody well thank your lucky stars that I do the night. But something’s got to be done with him. I mean it’s got to look like an accident, and…and it doesn’t, as far as I can see. You…you know all about firearms; they aren’t in my line; they never have been. You’ll likely have to arrange that gun as if it had gone off on its own, or as if he tripped or something.’
They had almost reached the top of the bank when Geoff said under his breath, ‘Why are you doing this, Ted? Why are you so concerned? You’ve never liked him, or her, or any of them, if I know you.’
‘No; that’s right. And likely that’s why I’m doin’ it.’ They were down the slope now and on the river bank and walking carefully, and Ted went on, ‘Me mind works as quick as me hands and…and I saw that she could skip off, aye, she could and leave him there, ’cos she was in a kind of panic, so nobody would know or think of accusing her. But who’s old Bradford-Brown been after for years? Me. And only last week I had an up-and-downer with him on the road, and that stuck in me mind. I was comin’ back from Hobson’s, me flat cart full of wood, branches an’ that, and there he was in that truck of his. And your dad was with him, and Peter Rice an’ all. And he makes your dad pull up and demands where I got the wood from. When I said I had bought and paid for it, he said it would be the first time I’d ever paid for anything in me life. And to that I said I wasn’t the only one, but my deals were small. And I thought he was goin’ to have a fit. He yelled at me, “I’ll get you one of these days. You see if I don’t.” And like a bloody fool, I said, “If I don’t get you first.” So you see what I mean about when they find him. Who will they go lookin’ for first? That’s what flashed into me mind. They’ll have the pollis on me afore I can say Jack Robinson. And I’m not daft. I know Sergeant Winters and Constable McCabe have turned blind eyes to me as long as I can remember, and they haven’t lost by it. But in the case of a killing, by! they would forget all about that. By! aye, lad, they would. Then there was Rice and your dad to bear witness to what I’d said; so I suppose it was self-preservation, as they say, me jumpin’ down that bank and makin’ meself known to her, else she would have been off like a linty.’
They had reached the outside of the barn now and Ted, his voice a whisper, muttered, ‘’Twas over there.’ He turned the dim light of his torch towards the ground, picking out the outline of a body; and then he said, ‘I’ll wait here a minute.’
When Geoff entered the barn he swung his torchlight towards the broad beam, and there she was, standing as if nailed to it, with her hands pressed tightly against it at each side of her. Not until he came close to her did she move or speak, and then she just muttered his name, saying, ‘Geoff?’
‘It’s all right. It’s all right. Don’t worry. Everything will be all right.’
‘I…I shot him. I mean…I didn’t, I just struggled with him. He was going to shoot you. I thought you were in…in here.’ She was gabbling now and he pulled her to him, saying, ‘There, there now. Look, take hold of yourself.’ He gripped her hands. ‘You’re as cold as ice,’ he said. ‘Here, take my coat and put it round you.’
‘No, no. What…what am I going to do?’
Nevertheless, he pulled off his coat and put it around her, then said, just stay there. Just stay there now; I’ll be back in a minute.’ He went outside again, and going to Ted, he said softly, ‘Show me again where it is?’
Ted showed him, although he himself stood well away from the twisted body.
In the light of the torch, Geoff looked down on the heavily bloodied chin and neck. For a moment, he wondered if he might still be alive; but no, he had seen too many dead men not to recognise another. He swung the torch about and it showed up the gun lying some six feet away. For the moment he was back in the field: if a man tripped and his gun went off it wouldn’t be six feet away. The picture in his mind showed him the position in which the gun and the man would be lying. He turned to Ted now, asking, ‘You haven’t touched the gun?’
‘Me? No. By God! no. But she did. Her prints will be all over it.’
Yes, he had already thought of that. ‘Stay there,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘Just stay there a minute. I’ll be back.’ And at this he hurried further down the slope and into the barn again, saying softly now, ‘There are some gloves in my pocket. I want them.’ He not only pulled the gloves from his coat that she was hugging to her, but a large handkerchief from an inner pocket. Quickly he left her again. And now standing near Ted, he said, ‘I’ll want your help in a minute.’ Then, putting on the gloves, he went and picked up the rifle and with the handkerchief, rubbed it clean. Up and down, up and down the barrel he went as if determined to give it a polish. Presently he returned to the dead man; and after turning him gently on his back and crossing the man’s hands over his chest, he placed the rifle between them and pressed the fingers here and there on to the barrel. This done, he laid the rifle aside and taking his torch, played it on the ground over the mound before again addressing Ted, saying, ‘You’ll have to help me in this; I’ve…I’ve no strength in my left arm. Now I want him lifted up the bank to where the roots are. If he tripped it would be from there. Now clench your fists and pull them up under your coat sleeves.’
‘What?’
‘Do as I say. Clench your fists and…’
‘Oh, aye, aye, I see.’
‘Wait a minute.’ Geoff swept the light of the torch around the ground, and at one point he went down on his hunkers and peered at the thin grass sprouting from the shale bank, then muttered, ‘Most of it must have soaked into his collar and clothes. But let’s get him up. I’ll take the legs. It’s only a yard or so.’
As soon as Ted touched the body he exclaimed, ‘Oh, my God! My God!’ And at this Geoff said, ‘Shut up! Lift.’
Two or three minutes later, Geoff laid the legs down, then gently turned the body partly onto its side. After this, he picked up the gun and, flashing the torch towards the dead man’s head, he took stock of where the gun would have fallen after firing. As near as possible to his guess, he laid it on the ground; then assiduously, he played his torch around the spot from where they had moved the body, and wherever he thought he detected a stain he pulled up the clump of grass, broke it into small pieces, then flung it, scattering it around.
