CHAPTER THIRTY
WPC Leah
Jackson accompanied Cathy back to Hillcrest to collect a change of clothes and
some toiletry items for Steve and Lynette. To Cathy’s surprise and delight, her
father was waiting in the hotel lobby.
As they hugged and kissed, she gave Leah a grateful smile. The
policewoman, however, shook her head by way of indicating that. Frank
Harrison’s arrival was nothing to do with her. Nor, as far as she knew, had the
police been in contact with Cathy’s parents.
“It’s so good to see you Dad!”
Cathy started to cry.
“What on earth’s the
matter? What’s going on? Who are you?” Frank Harrison, clutching a battered
shoebox in one hand, turned to Leah.
“Shall we go upstairs?”
Leah suggested after introducing herself.
Later, Frank could only
stare in wide-eyed incredulity as Leah and Cathy took it in turns to relate
events of the previous evening. From time to time, he would squeeze Cathy’s
hand and give her a hug.
Neither woman remarked on
the shoebox Harrison had hastily deposited on a chest of drawers.
“I’ll leave you to it for
a while,” said Leah.
“Thank you for looking
after my little girl,” said Harrison.
“My pleasure,” Leah told
him with breezy laugh, “But Cathy’s more than capable of looking after herself,
as I’m sure you know.”
“Oh, I do.” It was
Harrison’s turn to laugh before giving Cathy another hug and letting her sob a
while in his arms.
“Some more tea, Dad…?” Cathy finally broke away and regarded her
father with a renewed surge of pleasure and relief.
“Later, love. First,
there’s something I need to tell you. Perhaps now isn’t a good time, but
there’s never a good time for some things, they just have to be done.” He rose
and retrieved the shoebox. Cathy
regarded it with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as if noticing it for the
first time.
Harrison sat down next to
Cathy in the same chair he had just vacated, but with an expression on his face
she did not recognize.
“Don’t look so worried Dad. There’s nothing to worry
about, honestly. It’s all over bar the shouting. Lynette and Steve are fine, so am I. As for
Cartwright, the police are sure to catch him soon. So cheer up, eh? We’ll go to
the hospital together. It will do Lynette the world of good to see her grandpa
and Steve will be pleased to se you too, I know he will. He’s changed, dad.
We’re going to be okay, Steve and me. I’m not saying it won’t be a long haul,
but for once, we’re both pulling in the same direction. So cheer up, okay? It’s been a shock, I know. I’ve barely had
time to get my head around it all myself but you…you’ve had no time at all. Oh,
you poor thing, come here and let me give you a big hug!” She went to give her
father a hug. To her astonishment and consternation, however, he got up and
proceeded to pace up and down the room, still clutching the shoebox.
“What’s the matter Dad?
What’s in the box?” But Harrison only paused long enough to fling her a pained
glance. “For heaven’s sake, Dad, stop pacing to and fro like a constipated
vicar. It’s doing my head in. Come and talk to me. You’re scaring me. Believe me,
I’ve had enough scares in the last twenty-four hours to last me a lifetime,”
she added with a dry, humourless laugh, “I need another one like I need a hole
in the head.” Involuntarily, she began to sob.
Harrison instantly rushed
to her side and put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, love, it’s just that…This
isn’t easy for me. Your mother…”
“Yes, why isn’t she with
you?” Cathy interrupted.
“She doesn’t even know
I’m here,” Harrison confessed.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will soon enough,”
he father told her wearily, “It’s all here, in the box.”
“What is?”
“Your birth certificate,
among other thing…and some photos too as well as a letter from your
grandfather.”
“My grandfather…?”
“He came to see us after
you’d been with us a few years. I wanted you to have it, but your mother was
terrified of losing you. She loves you so much, we both do.”
Tears started to roll
down the grizzled face, but Cathy could only stare, unmoved, unable to quite
grasp the enormity of what she had just been told. She opened the box. Her
eye began to focus, fingers touch, although not a single memory stirred. She
studied photographs, details and names on a birth certificate that meant
nothing to her. Then she opened the letter and read how and why her grandfather
had believed she was better off with the Harrisons than with her own parents.
A hand pressed against
hers. She snatched it away. “How could you?” she cried in a sudden burst of
fury and anguish, “How could you have kept this for me? You knew what it would
have meant to me. Well, obviously you didn’t or you wouldn’t have waited all
these years. All these years…” she repeated…”All these years without knowing…
and now…this!” Still clutching the letter, she hurled the shoebox and its
contents to the floor. “It’s a bit late now!”
“Don’t say that. It’s not
too late. You say you and Steve are back on track. If that’s true and it’s not
too late for two people to come together, why should it be too late for us?”
Cathy got to her feet and
walked towards the door.
“Cathy, wait!” Harrison pleaded.
“You once told me that not knowing who you are had left a gaping hole in your
life that could never be filled, that it made you feel half a person. You’ve
never been that. But the hole I can understand. Your mother and I should have
given you a chance to fill it years ago, and I can only pray you’ll find it in
your heart to forgive us. But it wasn’t only your mother who was so afraid of
losing you. I felt the same, only for a different reason. Your mother was
afraid of losing your love and I never doubted that. But your grandfather told
us about your parents. I expect it’s all in the letter. I was afraid the wonderful, wonderful, person
I had come to know and love as my daughter would turn into stranger again once
she knew the truth. Truth can be hard to stomach at any age, and you were
barely in your teens. I convinced myself it could only hurt you and I couldn’t
bear it, although…” His low voice broke, “if I’m truly honest with myself, I
dare say I was being every bit as selfish as your mother…”
At the door, Cathy paused
a while before turning to face the only father she had ever known. “You could have told me when I was much older,”
she pointed out,” when I had Lynette. You and Mum knew how bad it was for me
after she was born. You knew that hole was partly the reason I couldn’t make my
marriage work no matter how hard I tried. You watched me push my husband into
another woman’s arms, knowing that the way I felt about myself was largely to
blame. Haw can you say you didn’t want me to get hurt? Have you any idea what
it’s been like for me? Hell, that’s what, sheer hell. I’ve had to try and take
each day as it comes, knowing the next might well be a damn sight worse. You
could have helped me, yet you did nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing…!”
“We did our best to
support you, be there for you…love you,” Frank Harrison protested, “We thought,
hoped it was enough.”
“I thought so too, once.
Not any more. I think you had better leave.”
“I can drive you to the
hospital.”
“Leah will do that. Go Dad,
and leave me in peace to…Oh, just…GO.”
Frank Harrison rose and
walked unsteadily towards her, a pleading expression on the tear stained face.
“Don’t say anything Dad. Not another word, please. Let me think this through. I’ll be in touch
soon, I promise.” But even to her, the words sounded stiff and unfeeling.
Almost as soon as
Harrison had gone, Leah returned. “I’ve packed a few things from Lynette’s
room. I hope that’s okay?” Cathy nodded
wordlessly. One look at the pale face and its anguished expression warned the policewoman
to tread carefully. It was the face of a woman on the edge. “Would you prefer I
leave and come back later?”
Cathy shook her head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Again, Cathy shook her
head. “Give me a minute and we’ll go the hospital. Can you make sure we take Lynette’s
teddy bear?” She dashed to the bathroom, kicked the door shut behind her and
expected to throw up in the wash basin. Only, nothing came. No vomit, no tears.
A terrible ache spread through her whole body like ripples on a pond. “Give it
time,” she told the bland basin as she gripped its sides as if her life hung in
the balance. Time, yes. I just need time,
and then... But, try as she might,
she could not reach any ‘then’ only a sickening ‘now’ more horrible even than
she had experienced during those endless nights she had lain awake inventing a
childhood of which she had no memory.
Leah
Jackson sat in a chair and grimaced. Sounds of retching some time coming from
the bathroom became gradually less violent. “It’s a life for a crust, or a
crumb if you’re lucky,” she told a fly on the wall with a weary sigh. Moreover,
she could have sworn it flexed its wings sympathetically back at her.
……………………………
Meanwhile,
at the Shepherds’ flat, Anne was starting to recover consciousness. Raised
voices kept her from opening her eyes.
She lay quite still. As her hearing improved,
so too did her memory. It was all she could do not to scramble to her feet and
make a run for it. But common sense prevailed. What chance did she stand against
two men, one armed with a gun? It was all so incredible, surreal, and…true. She guessed she was lying
on the sofa. A shiver ran down her spine then another and another…
“Why couldn’t you have
stayed upstairs?” cried a voice Anne only placed as Owen Shepherd’s by its
distinctive burr. The tone was entirely foreign to her. “She need never have
known you were here,” the voice raged on. “She need never have known anything, you
bastard! But you couldn’t bear it, could you? You couldn’t bear to think I
could possibly be happy with someone while you…” the voice sneered, “You
wouldn’t know happiness if it got up and slapped you round the face!”
“And you would, you
pathetic little moron? Do you really think you could have been happy with her?
More to the point, could she have been happy with you? I don’t think so. Not
for long at any rate. She’d have sussed you out for what you are soon enough,
just like your mother did.”
“And yours didn’t?”
“Yes, she knew. I didn’t
have to tell her either. I didn’t go running to her in tears begging
forgiveness, promising never to do it again. Yes, she knew. She probably blames
herself too, just like Alice. But I don’t blame her. I am what I am and more
the pity that, but it has nothing to do with my mother. I didn’t put her on the
spot the way you did Alice. My God, how she must have hated you for that,
making her responsible for your crimes.”
“Our crimes….” Owen
corrected him bitterly.
“Yes, our crimes. As for
happiness, Fern and I were happy enough until you took a fancy to little
Carrie.”
"And you didn’t?”
“Maybe I did, but I
wouldn’t have done anything about it if you hadn’t gone on and on about it. You
got inside me, damn you, and there was no turning back after that.”
“You egged me on. You
made me do it. But then that’s what voyeur’s do, isn’t it? You haven’t the
bottle to do anything first hand. It’s all second hand with your sort. Happy with Fern, were you? How happy was she
with you, I wonder? I bet you never had sex with her once without having to make
believe she was Carrie. Do you think she
didn’t know that? Do you think she couldn’t feel she was second best? How happy
do you think she would have been if she’d known she was playing second best to
her own daughter, eh?”
“I was trying, damn you.
I was really trying. Then you had to come along and stick the knife in. But at
least the sex was real. I’ve never had to kill anyone to get a hard on or
settle for wanking over a child’s dead body!”
This was too much for
Anne. “No!” she screamed, scrambled to her feet and regarded both men in turn.
It was on Owen that her livid gaze rested. She no longer cared about the gun.
Let Cartwright shoot her, although a sixth sense told her he hadn’t the nerve.
Leaving people to burn to death was one thing, looking someone in the eye while
you shoot them was something else. “You bastard, you bastard…!” She hurled a
stream of abuse at Owen that included words she hadn’t even realized she knew.
“I thought you were my friend, and all the time…”
Owen cringed as Anne
piled invective upon invective with a savagery he would never have believed of
this small woman whose very ordinariness and subtle strength he had always
admired. He had admired, too, the way she always conducted herself with quiet
dignity. Now, in her place, he saw only a she-wolf with fangs bared.
“I’m sorry,” he
whimpered. It was a pitiful sound that had the immediate effect of stopping
Anne’s tirade dead in its tracks.
“Sorry?” she hissed, “Is
that all you’ve got to say for yourself? Your poor mother must have wished
you’d never been born. How she must have dreaded anyone finding out.” A
terrible thought struck her as she spoke. “That’s why you killed her isn’t
it? Not because she was suffering but in
case she did anything rash, like attempting to redeem herself on her deathbed.
Dear God, it was me, wasn’t it? Once I
asked you about Fern McAllister, poor Alice was already as good as dead. You
couldn’t risk her telling me the truth. Oh, Owen, you fool. Your mother loved
you. She was frightened for you, not for herself. For you, you…you sick, sick man,
you monster!”
She paused for breath
then rounded on Cartwright. “You’re no better. You’re pathetic, the pair of
you. And if you think carrying a gun
makes one iota of difference, you’re very much mistaken. Only cowards carry
guns. Only cowards point them at innocent people. Only cowards try to burn them
alive. Only cowards take the trust of innocent children and turn it into
something so horrible it doesn’t bear thinking about.”
Feeling incredibly calm
all of a sudden, she looked coolly from one to the other. “Now, which one of
you is going to tell me where you hid Carrie McAllister’s body?”
“Don’t you want to know
what happened to Patricia?” Owen sobbed.
“If you mean, do I want
you to paint me a picture, no I don’t. Nor do I need the police or either of
you to tell me it was Patricia’s body Kirk Spencer dug up in the shrubbery. At
least she can rest in peace now. Doesn’t Carrie McAllister deserve the same?”
“I have to hand it to
you, Mrs G,” Cartwright admitted, “I thought you’d be a pushover. Looks like
you made the same mistake, eh, Owen?”
“Anne, I…” Owen Shepherd
stammered.
“Where did you bury
Carrie McAllister? Anne felt suddenly faint.
But she had to know or she would never be able to look Fern McAllister
in the face again. “Well, I’m waiting.
It was Cartwright who
finally answered. “I left a letter with my mother. Only to be opened in the
event of my death, you understand. Among
other things, it describes exactly where we buried Carrie.”
“What did you do that for?” Shepherd demanded,
“She may open it or the police might find it. They’re bound to search the
house.
“So?” Cartwright seemed genuinely surprised by the
other’s reaction.
“So we’re done for,
finished. Everyone will know and…Oh, God, everyone will know,” he groaned.
“And we’ll be swept up
for prison fodder, along with the junkies and the druggies and all the rest of
society’s dregs. Sounds about right, don’t you think?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,”
Anne told him scathingly, “the worst of society’s dregs doesn’t begin to
describe people like you. As for the event of your death, I’ll gladly write
your obituary.”
“I really do take my hat
off to you, Mrs G. Most women would take one look at this,” waving the handgun
with air of practised performer, “and be pleading for their lives, but not you.
Oh, no. Not Anne Gates, mother of the late Patricia Gates. You really are an
extraordinary person.” He turned to Owen. “You still don’t get it, do you?
We’re already done for, finished. Oh, God everyone will know,” he mimicked with
a wicked laugh. “I have to hand it to you Owen. You are such a drama queen!” Cartwright threw back his
head and roared with laughter until tears filled his eyes. No once, though, did
he forget to point the gun directly at Anne.
“I’m not afraid to die,”
Anne only partially lied. “Tom, my ex husband will see to our daughter’s
funeral, and that’s all I’ve lived for. Only, you won’t kill me, will you?
Where’s the thrill, the excitement in shooting plain, boring old me?” She
glanced at Owen. “I bet you haven’t even got an erection, eh, Owen dear?”
Shepherd blushed scarlet.
“I wouldn’t mind betting
you’ve hit the nail right on the head there, Mrs G.” Cartwright began to
giggle. “Brandies all round again, I think. Will you do the honours, Mrs G?”
Anne walked unsteadily to
the cabinet and reached for the bottle.
A shot rang out. Anne
froze.
A second shot blasted her eardrums. Slowly, very slowly, she turned. Both men were sprawled on
the floor. Unable to let go of the brandy bottle, she went and stood over each
body in turn. She did not need to feel a pulse to know they were dead.
Cartwright’s face, smoking gun beside him where it had slipped from his right
palm, wore an expression of smug satisfaction. Blood pouring from his temple
told its own story.
Shepherd, on the other
hand, looked appalled, terrified, as if he had understood during the last split
second of his life that Cartwright intended to kill him. “Or did you get a
glimpse of hell, Owen dear?” Anne asked of the spreading bloodstain on his
shirt where, only minutes earlier, a heart had beat beneath. Heart, what heart?
Anne took a cautious swig
from the bottle, spluttered, caught her breath, and took another before making
her way to the garden to call first the police then Kirk Spencer on her mobile
phone. She could not face calling from the flat. I have to get out of here before I crack and fall apart.
She
would never quite recall what she said. For a start, she could barely hear herself
speak above the din some hens were making.
Slipping the phone into a
pocket, Anne struggled in vain to prevent her gaze from wandering towards the
shrubbery. It looked much the same as always. Certainly, there were no obvious
signs of a police presence. A bird rose from within its dark heart. She thought
it was a skylark, but couldn’t be sure. Whatever, it sang sweetly and hovered a
while before soaring upwards. Now, but a dark speck on a patch of blue between
clouds, now…vanished. Was it going to rain, she wondered? Not that it mattered.
The rest of the day was already spoken for, not least with giving a statement
to the police. Then she would have her work cut out satisfying a general
curiosity, not to mention keeping the press happy. She shivered. It was all so
horribly familiar. Could she bear it? Tom was on his way, but her ex-husband was
unlikely to prove much help. On the contrary, he would be expecting her to
provide a shoulder to cry on and more besides.Spence, on the other
hand, would be a tower of strength.
Anne permitted herself the flicker of a smile. Spence had called
earlier to tell her that he and Charley were getting married. Apparently, Charley
was insisting that she, Anne, be her maid of honour. “We’ll see,” she told a
hen that, like its companions, had quietened and was strutting around with the
same proprietary air as always. The smile broadened as she recalled how she’d also been invited to
spend time with the Taylors. There was, after all, much to which she could look
forward.
Why had Cartwright shot
Owen, she wondered? He must have
realized he’d be sparing the man he plainly hated a fate worse than death,
surely? She shrugged. Why should I care?
Absently, she pinched her arm as if to reassure herself she was awake and not
in the last throes of a nightmare. Thank
God, it’s all over. Instantly, she
corrected herself. What am I saying?
Of course it’s not over and won’t be, can’t be until I’m dead and gone. She
sighed, but the smile took on a new lease of life. At least things are looking up for once. And if
this is as good as it gets, who am I to complain?
Turning to face the old
house whose ground floor had been the scene of such recent horror, Anne was
amazed that she could feel so calm. Even the shrieking of emergency sirens in
her ears did nothing to threaten a welcome if illusory peace of mind.
THE END
SYNOPSES for novels on this site:
DOG ROSES
(Gay-interest)
BLASPHEMY
(Crime – Gay-interest)
SACRILEGE
(Crime – Gay-interest)
LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW
(Crime/Mystery)
PREDISPOSED TO MYRDER
(Crime)
MAMELON (Book 1)
(Fantasy) - Book
2 will be serialized from October 2013
+
For a glossary of names
and terms used in Mamelon: http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-glossary-of-names-and-terms.html
See also:
