“Then she was crazy. How was it Beverly’s fault that Susie was adopted?” I say.
“She never forgave her mother for giving her up, for letting her end up in a family that sent her off to work in the clubs. I gave her everything, but she was obsessed with what happened to her when she was younger. I told her it happens to a lot of girls, and to deal with it. It didn’t spoil her looks, but hell, she had a temper on her. I liked that . . .”
I can feel Kenny edging past me as he speaks, but I put out a warning hand, touching the sleeve of his jacket. He pauses, but under my fingers, I can feel his muscles are taut and his breathing is fast.
The man is speaking again, struggling over the words, slurring and coughing so much that I wonder if he’s going to die right here in front of us. “She couldn’t help it . . . it wasn’t her fault. You were lucky you were born later or it would have been you in the workhouse, and you given away as just a baby. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”
“Depends on the person,” I tell him.
He gives a snuffle of laughter, which grows louder until it turns into that hacking cough. “They married her off to me when she was sixteen and you might not think it, but that was a blessing for her. The Mathews brothers would have sent her out on the streets up in London, and they’d already put her in one of their clubs. If I hadn’t shown an interest, God knows what would have happened to her. She was a pretty girl, and would have made a bit of money for them. Lucky they all worked for me. But then almost everyone did in those days . . .”
“And that was such a good thing, wasn’t it? Because you could control everyone, and make them join in with your sick little games,” Beverly snaps at him, taking a step forward to poke him in the chest. “You and your crazy wife ruined my life! I always wondered if it was something to do with Barry, or my uncle, but I never imagined it would be my own half-sister.”
He shrugs. “I liked young girls, Susie knows that.”
“You sick, twisted old bastard! Do you think that Ella, Trixie, Laura, or any of those children you took back to your house will ever forget what you did to them? And I know there were others who never made it out of your grand old house alive. You’re a monster and death is too good for you,” Beverly’s voice has risen.
“I had a good life and I loved my wife. Nobody will ever forget who I am.” Pride rings in his voice, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach.
“You aren’t important anymore,” Kenny spits out. “Whatever version of events you might have conjured up in that sick and twisted mind, it is plain to everyone else that you and your wife have been abusing children for years. Taking Ella from her mother and then framing Beverly for murder was an evil thing to do. You tried to ruin two more lives.”
Beverly moves back a step and I relax slightly. Her hair is fanning out in the wind, and her shoulders are squared. “You haven’t ruined my life, though. Or Ella’s. We’ll get through this and do whatever we want, go anywhere . . . I'm the one that has friends and owns property now, John Stocker.”
“Mr Stocker, Ella needs to come home now,” I say. “Susie is dead, and you’re dying. Who will look after her then?”
“You’re that nosy hairdressing bitch, aren’t you?” He leans half out of the window, pointing a finger at me. “I heard about you, poking around with that reporter. Emily can go with you, and see if I care! But first I need you to know something else. That copper, Appleton — he’s been mine for years, the sly bastard. I gave him a lot I wouldn’t give the others, just because I knew he understood the rules. Then . . .” — another coughing fit — “then, when there was nobody else left, and Susie didn’t have long, I thought to myself, who can I turn to who has a few bob? I couldn’t lose the house, you see. Well, that bastard knew I had a lot on him, but I wasn’t going to use it at first. Then he turned nasty and threw everything back in my face. After all I’d done for him, he tried to take my house from under me!”
“Appleton was blackmailing you?” I say, although of course we have already guessed.
“You don’t listen, do you? He was and is. Now you know, and you can have Emily, but be careful, be very careful because that man wants to kill her. But Susie won’t let him. My beautiful Susie. She’s in the sea, you know!” Maudlin, he picks up the bottle and drains it. “You can take Emily away now. Everyone is leaving.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Beverly doesn’t need telling twice and she marches around to the passenger side of the van with Kenny and I following.
Stocker is still talking. “Feisty, you lot are! Just like Susie and just like Emily. There wasn’t anyone I couldn’t pay off, or send the boys in to do some damage to. People are scared of me . . . Not Susie, though, I wouldn’t want you to think that. She loves me.” He watches us as we reach the passenger door, and I yank it open while Beverly reaches a hand out to Ella. The girl looks doubtfully at Stocker but he waves her away. “Just go, girl!”
In that split second, as Ella’s fingers touch Beverly’s, I think it’s going to be OK. I almost think I’m imagining the sharp crack of a gunshot, but beside me Kenny drops to the ground, dark red blossoming across his right shoulder. As he goes down Beverly and I crouch instinctively, arms shielding our heads in a futile attempt to ward off the next shot. Stocker yells defiantly at the tall, blonde figure running downhill towards us.
Even as I lean down, heart pounding, to help Kenny — who is groaning in agony — and Beverly reaches back to her daughter, Stocker starts the engine. The van judders into life with a roar. Kenny rolls away into a clump of bushes, clutching his shoulder. I grab at the van door, which swings wide again, but my sweaty, shaking fingers lose grip, and I roll under the wheels.
Appleton shoots again, and the bullet ricochets off the rusty van with a sharp ping. I hear more shouts from further up the hill, towards the ruined farmhouse, and Beverly is screaming at Ella to move. She wriggles up into the passenger seat with her daughter, reaching a hand down to drag me up too, using the door as a shield. I yank hard to shut the van door behind me.
As Appleton reaches us, he aims the gun straight at Stocker, and I glimpse his glassy blue eyes and sweaty, dripping face. We cower down into the footwell of the van. There is no way he can miss, but Stocker stamps his foot hard on the accelerator just as the policeman fires, and the van moves forward, covering the short distance between the grassy knoll and the edge of the cliff like a rocket. But just when we should be careering over the cliff edge, the wheels catch on something. Ella is screaming, and Beverly is yelling at Stocker, but Appleton jumps at the van, clinging to the door frame, his breath hot on my face, his hand shaking as he points the gun. The barrel grazes my cheek, slips on the sweat, moves away, and I push Ella further, harder down under the seats. For a second the van hangs, suspended, back wheels spinning in the grass, before it starts to tip, falling headfirst into the little cove.
The jolt is bone-shakingly painful, and I scream with the others, but luckily the drop is no more than the height of an average house. The van falls nose first, somersaults onto its roof and comes to rest upside down.
Slowly, I open my eyes. The screams have stopped, and there is water flooding the cab of the van one moment and then receding as the waves retreat. It laps against my cheek. I blink hard, but the water is red, swirling and dancing as though someone had dropped scarlet ink into the sea.
Stocker is dead, flung from the driver’s seat, his body twisted at an impossible angle and his head hanging loose. He must have been jammed against the steering wheel, until the force of the fall threw him clear, with devastating consequences. The scarlet ribbons swirl around him, twisting and entangling us all. Ella is moving next to me, dazed but alive. Beverly is groaning somewhere near my feet, clutching her shoulder but managing to raise her head.
I’m so tired, so completely exhausted I might never move again. But as another wash of salty water makes my eyes sting, I force my body to move. My wrist shoots daggers of pain as I try to wriggle out of my aw
kward position under the dashboard. Somewhere behind us, I am dimly aware of shouting, before the water erupts beside me and strong hands pull me down into the water, then out of the van and further into the waves. I try to push away, catching my legs on the jagged glass of the windscreen as I squirm desperately like a fish on a line.
I am plunged underwater, held by those heavy hands on my shoulders, and I can’t breathe. My breath is giving out, and the red isn’t in the water anymore, it’s behind my eyes. Frantic now, I lash out with all my limbs, feeling the pressure build in my head, hearing my heart pounding as it desperately tries to cope with the lack of oxygen. I’d forgotten about DS Appleton, clinging grimly to the van door, joining us on our flight off into the cove, and forgotten that for him, it's better if we all die. He may have nothing to lose, but it isn’t the first time I have faced death.
I carry on fighting, kicking backwards at him, feeling my heels connect with solid flesh. But without breath I can’t carry on, and my struggles are getting weaker, consciousness fading to black. Suddenly the pressure on my shoulders is released. I flail weakly, scraping my knees and elbows on shingle, forcing my exhausted body to survive. Breaking the surface I crawl up the shingle and collapse on the beach on my back, gasping, head spinning. I force myself to focus — on the overturned van, on the blood in the waves, and on the girl standing waist deep next to a line of boulders, one large, sharp stone cradled in her hands. To her side the body of a big blonde man ebbs and flows with the tide.
“Ella?” I whisper, “Beverly?” But I’m not sure any words actually come out. Then I remember Kenny, and cast a desperate look up towards the cliff, before laying back in relief. Police officers are peering down at our tragic little scene, and amongst them, I recognise the slate grey stare of Inspector Hammond.
At my feet, the waves churn and beat, and the slick of sea on the horizon is washed gold and red by the setting sun. I’m dimly aware of Beverly inching her way up the beach, away from the wreckage of the van, of Ella wading back and sitting between us, silent and shaking, and of policemen bringing blankets and other men bringing bandages. I hear myself asking about Kenny, twisting my aching body to see him carried away on a stretcher, but I feel no pain of my own anymore, just a huge rush of relief that the evil is gone.
Eventually the sun dips into the sea, and the moonlight dances in over the waves, turning the scarlet ribbons to silver. Sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water, whatever people might say.
THE END
RUBY BAKER SERIES
Book 1: BEFORE I LEFT YOU
Book 2: BEFORE I FOUND YOU
GLOSSARY OF BRITISH AND PERIOD SLANG
Addles your brain: messes with your head
Aggro: violent behaviour, aggression
All hands to the pumps: lots of help needed
Aye: yes (Scottish)
Baby grow: sleepsuit
Babycham: cheap alternative to champagne – made from pears
Ball and chain: wife (negative)
Balloon’s gone up: an emergency situation
Balls-up: an error, a mistake
Banana boat: derogatory term for immigrants transport to UK
Banksy: famous graffiti artist
Barm: bread roll
Barrel of laughs: sarcastic term for a serious character
Barrister: lawyer who argues in court
Be sick: vomit
Beaker: glass or cup for holding liquids
Beat bobby: uniformed police officer who patrols the streets
Bedsit: a one-room apartment (small)
Bee’s knees: something special
Bells ringing: equivalent of police sirens today
Belter: It was a fantastic goal
Benefits: social security
Bent: corrupt
Better step on it: hurry up
Betting shop: a place where you can place bets on horses and other sports
Bin: wastebasket (noun), or throw in rubbish (verb)
Biscuits: cookies
Black Maria: a police van
Blighty: means England
Bloke: guy
Blow: cocaine
Bob: money
Bod: derogatory term – anonymous person
Bonnet: hood of car
Bookies: a place where you can place bets on horses and other sports
Bowling me a googly: cricketing term. To take by surprise
Boxing Day: 26 December
Bread-and-butter work: routine work
Brief: lawyer
Brylcreem: hair cream/gel to give men’s hair shine and smoothness
Bully for you: good for you (sarcastic)
Bumfluff: the first pubic hair
Burger bar: hamburger fast-food restaurant
Buy-to-let: buying a house/apartment to rent it out for profit
Cabbage: brain dead
Calling in the cavalry: asking for reinforcements
Cambridge University: prestigious British university
Canon: a rank of clergymen
Car park: parking lot
Caravan: mobile home
Care Home: an institution where old people are cared for
Carer: person who looks after old or ill people
Carrier bag: plastic bag from supermarket
Cat that got all the cream: satisfied
Chaps: men
Charity Shop: thrift store
Chat up: flirt, trying to pick up someone with witty banter or compliments
Chemist: pharmacy
Childminder: someone who looks after children for money
Chinwag: conversation
Chip: fat French fry
Chipper: feeling positive
CID: Criminal Investigation Department
Civil servant: someone who works for the Civil Service
Civil Service: government departments which put central government plans into action
Clobbered: hit hard
Clock: punch
Cobbler’s shop: shoe repair
Cock up: mess up, make a mistake
Common or garden: ordinary
Common: an area of park land/ or lower class
Comprehensive School (Comp.): high school
Cop hold of: grab
Copper: police officer
Cos: because
Council estate: social housing
Council flat: public or project housing
Council: local government
Coverall: coveralls, or boiler suit
CPS: Crown Prosecution Service, decide whether police cases go forward
Crazy-paving: patio, concrete slabs in random pattern
Cross: upset or angry
Crown Jewels: the Queen’s jewels and crown worn on state occasions (can also be an expression for anything valuable)
Cuppa: cup of tea
Cut along to: go along to
David Nixon: UK TV magician
DCI: Detective Chief Inspector
Deck: one of the landings on a floor of a tower block
Deputy head: deputy principal
Dessert: pudding
DI: Detective Inspector
Digs: lodgings, boarding house
Do a bunk: disappear
Do a runner: disappear
Do one: go away
Do: party
Doc Martens: heavy boots with an air-cushioned sole
Dodgems: bumper cars
Doormat: meek
Dosh: money
Dressing down: being chastised
Druid: priest or magician of ancient Celtic religion/ also modern-day adherent of the religion
DS: Detective Sergeant
Early dart: to leave work early
ED: accident and emergency department of hospital
Emergency police box: telephone box for police use
En-print: an 8 x 10 photograph
Estate agent: realtor (US)
Estate: public/social housing estate (similar to housing projects). May also mean a large area
of land in the country, usually with a large house
Ex-directory: not in the phonebook
Fag: cigarette
Fella: man
Fellow: boyfriend
Fitzrovia: upmarket London area
Fizzy drink: carbonated beverage
Flat: apartment
Flatfoots: derogatory name for police
Fly in the ointment: problem
Form teacher: class teacher
Garden Centre: a business where plants and gardening equipment are sold
Gee-gees: horses (racing)
Geordie: someone from Newcastle
George Formby: musical comedian
Get rid: dispose of
Get you a brew: make a cup of tea
Get your skates on: hurry up
Gilet: sleeveless padded jacket
Glasshouse:greenhouse
Go to the dogs: go to rack and ruin, be destroyed
Good collars: good arrests
GP: general practitioner, a doctor based in the community
Graft: hard work
Guvnor: the boss (& guv)
Gymkhana: horse-riding event
Gymslips: school uniform of bib and skirt design
Hack: newspaper journalist
Had it in spades: has a lot of it
Half of bitter: half pint of beer
Hanky: handkerchief
Hard nut: tough person
Harold MacMillan: British Prime minister 1957-63
Haversack: backpack, rucksack
Hendon: police training school
Herbert Beerbohm-Tree and Mrs Patrick Campbell: actors
HOLMES: UK police computer system used during investigation of major incidents
Home: care home for elderly or sick people
I’m blowed: I am surprised
I’m spitting nails: I am very angry
Inne: isn’t he
Interpol: International Criminal Police Organisation, facilitating international police cooperation. HQ in Lyon, France.
Into care: a child taken away from their family by the social services
Kark: die
Keep it under your hat: keep it a secret
Keep mum about it: keep it a secret
Keep your hair on: don’t get so excited