She opened her heart and he laughed in her face.
Simon, beside her, sits up taller. As he moves, something sharp digs into Ursula’s side. ‘So it was you,’ he says to Edward. ‘You were the head chef at the Fattened Calf that I rang. Or is that bullshit too?’
‘What was bullshit was what you did to me. You ruined my
career. In one single phone call you destroyed everything I’d
worked for since I was sixteen and you did it all in the name
of entertainment. And you never apologised. Not you, not the
station. No one. You couldn’t have given two shits. But I’m done talking. On with the show. Seeing as Simon is such a reluctant player it seems as though I’m going to have to add to the cast.’
Ursula hears the note of warning in Ed’s voice and looks up.
‘You.’ He points to Kath. ‘Get your kid to open the window
above Simon. If she even thinks about shouting for help I’ll push her out myself.’
‘No. Not Georgia.’ Kath tightens her grip on her daughter,
pulling her head into her shoulder. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Are you going to make me repeat myself?’
‘It’s too high. She won’t be able to reach.’
‘There are stools over there.’ Ed inclines his head towards the shoe racks. ‘Use one.’
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‘No.’ Georgia starts to cry. ‘No, Mum, I don’t want to. Mum,
please, I’m scared.’
As Edward shouts at her to shut up, Ursula runs her hand
over the sharp object that jabbed itself into her as Simon shifted position. There’s something in the pocket of her coat. Something hard and sharp that she stole from her landlord a few days ago.
Gareth glances at her as she twists to one side, wincing as she wriggles her bound hands into her pocket. Her fingers close
around the dart and she awkwardly eases it out. He nudges her.
‘Give it to me.’
Ursula shakes her head and clumsily slides the dart behind
her to the small patch of flooring between her bum and the
wall.
‘Please,’ Gareth hisses as Georgia slowly walks past them, a
clothes rail wobbling under the weight of her footsteps as she heads for the stools. ‘I can do this.’
Ursula shakes her head again, but Gareth reaches behind her
before she can stop him, and when she feels for the dart it’s
gone.
No one says a word as a sobbing Georgia clambers onto the
stool and reaches for the catch at the base of the window. When the frame swings out Ursula holds her breath, willing the girl not to speak. Distant sounds drift into the shop – sirens, traffic horns and the rumble of a bus or truck – but Georgia doesn’t
say a word as she steps down and runs straight back to her
mum.
Edward nods at Simon. ‘Off you go.’
A muscle pulses in Simon’s jaw as he slowly gets to his feet.
‘Simon!’ Alice gasps. ‘Simon, no!’
Ursula glances at Gareth, her palms sticky on the cold wooden
floor. If he attacks Edward with the dart now, with the blade
of the knife held under Alice’s chin, she could be dead before 309
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he even gets close. She coughs lightly to try and get Gareth’s attention but he doesn’t so much as flinch. There’s only one
person everyone’s focused on and that’s the man with the knife in his hand.
‘Time to jump, to entertain the plebs for the last time.’ Edward stares at Simon and tilts his head in the direction of the window.
‘What’s a little public humiliation between friends?’
‘No,’ Simon says. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
A wry smile plays on Edward’s lips. ‘You mustn’t have heard
me. I told you to jump.’
Simon opens his arms wide. ‘You’ve got the knife. If you want
me dead I’m here. Or do you always hide behind women?’
Edward’s laughter rings out in the room. ‘You must think I’m
stupid. Get on that fucking stool.’
‘No.’
Ursula holds her breath as he takes a step towards Edward.
Simon’s an arsehole. It’s Alice’s life he’s playing with, not his.
‘Stay where you are,’ Ed says, ‘or I’ll cut her throat.’
‘You’re not going to do that. You want me dead, not her.’
‘Doesn’t matter to me either way. She’s a liar like you.’ Ed’s eyes glitter behind the circular frames of his glasses. He presses the knife deeper into Alice’s chin, which makes her groan and
tip back her head. ‘If she dies you’ll spend the rest of your life blaming yourself. And if you die then . . .’ He shrugs. ‘Either way, I win.’
‘Don’t do it, Simon,’ Alice says, her voice little more than a whisper.
‘No?’ Ed tilts his head to one side. ‘Are you sure about that
Alice? Because if he jumps I’ll let you have your mobile phone back. You can ring your daughter, warn her not to drink the
bottle of wine I left on your doorstep. ‘
Simon frowns. ‘What bottle of wine?’
‘My little back-up plan, in case you didn’t show up here. Well, 310
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when I say “wine” it’s ninety-eight percent wine. The other two per cent isn’t going to give you a headache when you wake up
the next morning. Mostly because you won’t wake up at all.’
‘Emily!’ Alice cries as she struggles to get out of Edward’s
grip, her bloodied fingers striping the skin of his forearm. ‘She’ll drink it! Simon, she’ll drink it!’
‘Still think he shouldn’t jump?’ Edward asks, pressing the tip of the knife back into her cheek. ‘If he does I’ll give you your phone back. You can ring her, or 999. Either way it’s not too
late. Not yet anyway.’
Alice suddenly becomes very still, her gaze fixed on Simon’s
face.
‘Who do you choose?’ Ed asks. ‘Your daughter or your
boyfriend?’
‘No.’ She shakes her head lightly. ‘No, no.’
‘Your daughter or your boyfriend. Who’s going to die?’
‘It’s okay, Alice,’ Simon says softly. ‘It’s okay.’
Ed’s smile widens. ‘Are you going to choose for her then?’
As Simon falters, Ursula becomes aware of Alice staring at
her. Alice blinks slowly and deliberately then her gaze flicks towards Ursula’s feet and she blinks again. Her eyes travel to the broken clothes rail. Another blink. The dart in Gareth’s
clenched hand. Blink. A sideways glance towards Ed’s stomach.
As she blinks for the fifth time Ursula inhales sharply. She
understands what she’s telling her to do.
Ursula gently nudges Gareth, indicating with her eyes that he
should look at Alice.
As his eyes swivel towards her, Alice does it again. She looks at Ursula’s feet, blinks, the clothes rail, blinks, Gareth’s hand, blinks and then Edward’s stomach. Gareth’s brow wrinkles with
confusion then he raises his eyebrows as what he’s seeing sinks in.
‘No?’ Ed says, still focused on Simon. ‘You’re not going to
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do the valiant thing? Ah, fuck it. I’ll choose. Sorry, Alice. You and your daughter are both dead.’
&
nbsp; Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Ursula kicks out
at the clothes rail, Ed loosens his grip on Alice’s neck as it crashes to the ground, and he barrels towards him, head down and arms
spread wide. As he buries the dart under Ed’s ribs, Alice twists free. A split second later the two men tumble to the ground.
Gareth’s on top, his knees either side of Ed’s hips. He leans his weight into Ed’s left shoulder and reaches for the knife in his outstretched right hand. Ursula holds her breath as Gareth’s
fingers creep nearer and nearer her landlord’s wrist. Just a few more centimetres and he’ll smash Ed’s hand against the floor
and release the knife. Gareth grunts in frustration. He can’t quite get there. He’s heavier than Ed but they’re similar heights and Ed’s more supple. He’s holding the knife just out of reach. Gareth shifts to his left, gritting his teeth as his fingers slide along Ed’s right arm. As he inches closer he has no choice but to release the pressure on Edward’s left shoulder.
BAM! The heel of Ed’s hand smashes into Gareth’s chin. He
reels back, arms whirling, but he doesn’t move from Ed’s hips.
As Gareth shakes his head sharply, still reeling from the blow, Ed sits up, the knife glinting as he angles it towards Gareth’s chest. Screams fill the shop as Gareth grabs Edward’s wrist then the two men tip to the side as they wrestle for control of the knife. There’s a tangle of arms and legs as they twist and thrash and pant and grunt, the blade hidden between their locked
bodies. Then there’s blood. More blood than Ursula has ever
seen.
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Chapter 53
Joan
Movement in the corner of her eye makes Joan turn her head.
A robin is hopping around in the undergrowth, a little red and brown dumpling of a bird, his feathers puffed out to keep
warm. Joan smiles. She’s always loved robins. There’s something about their beady little black eyes, sweet little chirp and the curious cock of their heads that makes her think they’re cleverer than other birds. Braver too. John managed to tame one
in their garden. He had it eating seeds out of the palm of his hand.
Joan shivers in her best M&S coat and hitches her handbag
over her shoulder. It’s getting dark on Brandon Hill and she
needs to get home. It’s the strangest thing but she’s not entirely sure what she’s doing standing there or how she arrived. She
glances to her right, craning her neck to gaze up at Cabot Tower.
It looms over the park, its red sandstone body and cream Bath
Stone ornamentation faded to grey in the dark. As a child she
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thought of it as Rapunzel’s tower with its jutting balconies, flying buttresses and the winged figure sitting on the top. It was where John proposed to her, back in 1962. She hadn’t wanted to move
after their lovely picnic lunch but he’d insisted they climb the tower and admire the view. After some needling she’d finally
relented and when they reached the top she was pink-cheeked
and puffing with her hair clinging to the back of her neck. She’d barely got her breath back when John dropped to one knee. She
heard a gasp of surprise from a lady to her right, a giggle from someone to her left, and then it was as though everyone was
holding their breath and all she could hear was John’s voice and the faint whistle of the wind.
Is it their anniversary? Is that why she’s here? For years they marked their special day with a pilgrimage to Cabot Tower, just the two of them at first, then later with Gareth in their arms.
Where is Gareth? She looks around for her son but there’s no
one else there. Just her and the robin, still hopping and observing, keeping an eye on her, never straying very far away.
Joan presses a hand to her mouth as she yawns. She’s very
tired. She can’t remember ever being as tired as this. She wants to lie down, just for a moment. She needs to close her eyes and catch her breath.
The robin hops away from her, deeper into the undergrowth.
It turns, looks at her with its little beady eye and tilts it head.
‘This way,’ it seems to say. ‘Follow me.’
Joan reaches under her body to dislodge a pebble from her hip, then she places her handbag beneath her head and pulls her
coat over her shoulders like a blanket. The cold ground is a
long way from the comfy bed she shares with John but it will
do, for now. She reaches out a hand from the coat and touches
the soil. Still hard, but there are bulbs beneath it, daffodils, crocuses and tulips, all waiting for the spring. It’s amazing really, 314
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she thinks as she closes her eyes; all that life, just waiting to burst through.
Her mind drifts as her breathing slows. There’s Ruth with her
lovely long blonde hair, crouched beside her, pressing a postcard into her hands. And there’s Gareth, crawling around on the rug.
And there’s John, walking down the path with his hands in his
pockets and his best hat on. He looks happy. He must have had
a good day at work. She’s ever so pleased. She’s been waiting
for him to come home. He’s been gone a long time and she’s
missed him. Hello, love. She opens the door and she smiles.
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Chapter 54
Alice holds up a hand to her eyes, shielding them from the
bright, cool sunshine as she steps out of the crematorium with her arm looped through Gareth’s. The dark clouds that were
gathering when she woke up that morning have disappeared
and there’s a hint of spring in the air. There’s a small group of men huddled outside the building, Gareth’s friends, she presumes.
One of them raises his hand.
‘We’ll see you in the pub then, mate!’
‘See you there, Doug,’ Gareth calls back.
‘It was a lovely service,’ Ursula says from Gareth’s other side.
Like Alice, she’s holding his arm.
‘Yes.’ He forces a smile but Alice can see the sadness in his
eyes. It’s been ten days since Joan’s body was found curled up in bushes on Brandon Hill. Ten days since Gareth wrestled the
knife away from Edward Bennett and, in the tussle that
followed, drove the blade into the other man’s body. They
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gathered around the dead man, not knowing what to do or
how to feel. It felt like forever but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. Then, as the police pounded on the shuttered doors, Alice dragged her way into the back room,
dripping blood all over the floor, and retrieved her phone from the pile on the table, turned it on and called her daughter.
When Emily answered and told her there was no bottle of wine
on the doorstep Alice sobbed hysterically. She was still crying when the paramedics arrived and stretchered her out to the
waiting ambulance.
They’re going to have to relive what happened when the case
goes to trial but, for now, they’re all trying to look after each other, particularly Gareth. He was informed of his mother’s
death in a police interview room.
He was released within twenty-four hours, but the prospect of a murder trial still hangs over him, over them all, like a dark cloud. His defence says there’s a very good chance he’ll get off because the CCTV and witnesses all attest to the fact Edward was fatally wounded by accident.
But how Gareth’s still standing Alice has no idea. She and Ursula take turns popping round but Kath’s pretty much a fixture in
Gareth’s house these days. She’s not sure when Gareth and Kath became a couple, or even if they are, and she’s too discreet to ask, but there’s a closeness between them that wasn’t there the last time she was with them both.
‘Gareth!’ Kath comes rushing around the crematorium and
reaches out a hand to touch the side of his face. ‘Are you okay?
I’m so sorry I didn’t stay for the whole thing.’
‘You had to look after Georgia.’ He unloops his arm from
Alice’s and rests his hand on Kath’s, holding her hand to his
cheek. They gaze at each other, neither one saying a word,
and it’s such a tender, private moment that Alice takes a few
steps away and averts her gaze. Ursula, on Gareth’s other side, does the same.
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After a beat Gareth says, ‘How’s she doing?’
Standing some distance away, in the crematorium garden with
her arms wrapped around her body, is Kath’s daughter. She’d
cried all the way through the service and had to leave twice.
The second time she and Kath didn’t return.
‘I’m worried about her,’ Gareth tells Kath. ‘I’ve told her over and over again that it wasn’t her fault but she’s still blaming herself.’
‘The funeral was always going to be the hardest bit,’ Kath
says softly. ‘Her counsellor told her as much. She’ll be okay. I think she misses your mum more than anything else.’
‘We all do.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Alice sees them hug tightly then Kath says something about getting back to Georgia and seeing
him later, at the wake. As she hurries across the garden towards her daughter, an older man with ruddy cheeks and a bulbous
nose steps forward and clasps Gareth’s hand in his.
‘It was a good service. You did her proud.’