Ronnie made a gagging sound, turned away and was sick on the cobbles.
His father ignored him. ‘It didn’t take long – he wasn’t really awake or aware of much of what was going on, which I was glad about. Then I set it all up to look like he’d done it himself – the ladder and what-not, then came home. Washed out the flask, had a bath, changed my clothes and put them in the tub to soak, and went to bed. What else could I do?’ he appealed, looking at his white-faced son, who was now wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then moving on to look at Janet, who couldn’t meet his gaze.
‘I didn’t want to kill the boy, you understand?’ he said, sounding aggrieved now, and looking wildly from Trudy to Clement and back again. ‘Known him ever since he was a nipper, didn’t I? He was a nice enough lad, but Iris had got her hooks into him too and … well, I knew he wouldn’t stop digging until he had proof. The son of a copper … What else could I do?’
He looked at Trudy for approbation or some form of acknowledgement, but she was now literally speechless.
‘Did you just attack my mother too?’ Janet asked, her voice cracking a little as she bit back a sob.
The farmer sighed and shrugged. ‘Now that were just rotten luck,’ he said resentfully. ‘I was looking for the lad’s journal, see. It was all over the village that he kept one. I knew the Finches and the coppers didn’t have it, or we’d’a heard of it long since. So I knew that the lad must’a hid it for safekeeping before he came to see me.’ He paused and considered the thought carefully, then nodded. ‘As a bit of a safeguard, like. He was always smart, that David,’ he added regretfully.
‘I’ve been looking everywhere for it, I can tell you!’ he grunted. ‘The village hall, the church, even the bloody phone box. I’ve been in a right state! I even searched the Carmody house from top to bottom, when they were out at the undertakers, although it was hardly likely to be there, was it? And then, finally, I thought of you.’ He nodded at Janet. ‘You were Iris’s best friend after all, and one of the few who must’a been mourning Iris, like. P’rhaps he gave it to you, asking you to keep it safe, like. I didn’t know if you’d read it or not, and if you had, why you hadn’t turned it over to the cops.’ So saying, he looked at his son then back at Janet with an awful, knowing smile. He shrugged, ‘Anyways, it was worth trying, so, I went to search your house this morning, thinking you were still at church.’
Trudy shook her head sadly. How many times had she told people – especially in small villages, to start locking their doors? But nobody hardly ever did. He’d probably just walked right in through the back door without any trouble at all.
‘But your mum must’a heard me. Next thing I knew, she were coming down the stairs, calling out for you, like. I just had time to hide behind the door and when she came past me, I hit her on the head with a saucepan. She never saw me though, so I never had to hit her again. And she were still breathing when I left,’ he added, watching Janet as if expecting her to thank him for his consideration.
Abruptly, he turned to Clement. ‘You! Stop moving about. You think I don’t know what you’re at? But it’s no use,’ Ray said bitterly. ‘The thing’s got to be done. We both know that – these others, they’re all youngsters, they know nothing about what’s what,’ he said tiredly. ‘But you and me – we know what the world’s like. You were in the war …’
He started to raise the shotgun, sighting it on Clement. ‘No point drawing it out. Might as well get it over with, quick-like. Nobody will understand, that’s the shame of it,’ he added, almost as an afterthought. ‘Nobody will ever understand that this is all Iris’s fault.’
‘You can’t kill all of us,’ Clement shouted, but without much hope. There was nothing in Ray Dewberry’s eyes but matter-of-fact intent.
‘No, not Ronnie,’ Ray agreed. ‘But he’ll help me. He’s a good boy. We’ll bury your bodies up in the sedges by Trigger Pond, I reckon …’
‘No Dad, I won’t,’ Ronnie shouted, but his father didn’t even react.
Trudy heard a buzzing in her head and felt her knees go a little weak. Was this really it? Was she going to die, here and now, in this place? Although she’d been advancing in tiny steps towards Iris’s killer, willing and ready to try to do her duty, now that time had come she felt only cold and numb. And frankly, disbelieving.
Janet gave a low, audible moan. This morning, when she’d thought she would confront Ronnie and make him admit to killing Iris, she had imagined it would make her feel so powerful and finally allow her to come out of Iris’s shadow. She’d seen herself returning to the village the triumphant heroine, admired and respected by all, no longer overlooked or underestimated. And finally she’d have the courage to tell her mother that she wanted to move to a small flat of her own in town, leave the fashionably decorated house and the fish-bowl of a village and begin to live. To finally live!
And now she was sure that she was going to have to do the opposite. To die. Die, before she’d even known what it was to be alive.
‘I’m sorry, really I am,’ Ray Dewberry said to her, but even as he spoke he was sighting down the barrel at the coroner in a business-like manner. ‘But I don’t have any choice, you can see that girl, can’t
