The only thing that he could be certain about was that she was standing in front of the other woman with what he must assume was a loaded revolver in her hand.
“This isn’t the answer, Miss Miller. Whatever your grievance is, this is only going to make it a hundred times worse.” He had to try, to say something, even though to his own ears, it sounded weak just the thing a well-meaning clergyman would be expected to trot out.
“Ah, Reverend Wilkes. Thanks for your concern for me but it’s a bit late in the day. You see, I’m in the interesting position of actually having nothing to lose. They can only hang you once.”
The words fell into a heavy silence. Unreal and real. Henry’s brain went in an instant from dozing to high-alert. It fell into place with almost the sound of coins slotting into a machine, she had attacked Stephen Bird and she had shot David Fallon, probably with the revolver she was holding. Pretty obviously a Webley, though he couldn’t be certain.
The silence went on for a while. Why? What on earth was the woman’s motive? Nothing she said made any sense. It was something to do with Fiona Elliott. But what?
“Ivy, please I’m sorry if you think I’ve treated you badly. I don’t know what it is I’ve done. I was never going to stay here forever. It was good of you to say that I could come and stay with you and your mother but I need to get out of this place, away, out of the countryside.”
Stop talking, Henry wanted to say.
He might not know what this was about but he had always been good at reading a person’s reactions. You had to be, in his job. A person knocking on the vicarage door for help could turn, become threatening. It had happened to Henry more than once.
Ivy Miller had stiffened and her breathing had changed.
“Maybe that’s it. Maybe, that’s it, Fiona. Walking away like that, using people, breaking hearts and taking advantage and then swanning off.”
“I didn’t ask you for anything, for goodness sake! I don’t even know what you’re on about. What do you mean?”
“Stop talking, Mrs Elliott. It’s not helping.” Henry hadn’t been able to help himself. He couldn’t take his eyes off Ivy Miller.
Her breathing was shallow, loud and a glazed distant look had wiped her face of expression. It reminded Henry of something awful he’d seen, more than once; men before going over the top, taking themselves off somewhere else in their heads.
She raised the hand holding the revolver.
Henry heard a shout. It came from him. He launched himself forward. There was a sound that shook the whole room; the ground too, under his flailing feet. His body was struck by something
that felt heavy and then he was falling, falling through a wall of pain.
Chapter Fifteen
John
Freddie Earnshaw had changed and sometimes it was difficult because when you’ve always been the same with a person, and then they seemed…somehow different. John looked at him now as they both slowed down on the edge of the village and hopped from their bikes.
“Don’t you mind? Coming today, I mean?”
John looked at Freddie who wore a red woolly hat and mittens.
Cycling was a cruel business in this weather.
“Sorry, I should have kept me gob shut. It’s just…”
John shrugged. It didn’t crop up much anymore. The stupid thing he’d done and the trouble he’d caused. His mother didn’t speak about it and he loved her so much for that. He was lucky; so much luckier than he’d known. He knew it now, though. Not everybody had a mother like his. Take Freddie’s mother, for instance.
Actually, there was something different though. He might not be the smartest boy in the dales—well, he clearly wasn’t the sharpest tool in the toolbox otherwise he wouldn’t have done what he had, last summer. But he had noticed a big difference at Freddie’s house. Today, when he’d called, Mrs Earnshaw was smiling and playing with Joy who was now toddling. She looked really nice too. Mrs Earnshaw, not Joy, who just looked like a baby.
“He’s coming round our house a lot…”
For a few seconds, John thought Freddie was talking about his father and looked at his friend.
Freddie’s face was red,
“Th’inspector. Inspector Greene. He’s taken her out, my mam, and Joy, too sometimes. He brings his dog. Ruby, she’s called.”
So, there was a reason Mrs Earnshaw was more cheerful. Wait until he got home and could tell his Mam.
It was touching. The whole of Ellbeck had turned out, or so it seemed. The measure of how much people respected him.
It was difficult to say whether their presence made things tougher or smoother. What it did do was to make Edith feel emotional, something that was happening a lot lately. She’d never
been one for easy tears though maybe that wasn’t something to boast about. Now, though, it didn’t take a lot and signs of kindness were her undoing. People had been so good.
The hot summer seemed unreal, now, in that way of the seasons.
Now, in the season of stoking the fires, making soup and finding scarves and warm cardigans. Last July could have been years rather than months ago. That strange time when Cathy and Hannah Braithwaite went through their own torment, and she and Henry had been separated by more than miles. Edith remembered the unease she’d felt; the sense that Henry was in danger.
He had been, though in the way of being in the wrong place at the wrong time rather than being the intended victim. That poor woman, and now, Edith could almost think of her with pity, had been obsessed with Fiona Elliott, ready to kill anyone she thought had hurt Fiona or anyone who would take her away, out of Ivy Miller’s orbit. In the end a completely innocent person had got in the way.
Now, Edith caught Hannah’s eye. Hannah had helped her all day; helped her to prepare. John was back to normal; well almost.
Hannah said that he had become more timid and nervous and even expressed some doubts about going to college. Cathy was thriving and found a boyfriend, though her mother insisted that love wasn’t going to stand in the way of Cathy’s ambitions. “Not as daft as her mother.”
Bill Brown had received an award. He had put himself in danger to make sure that young John hadn’t ended up in the Bedford van with Denis Howard.
The car drew up.
Edith stepped forward, forgetting the presence of her brother, friends and neighbours. Henry was home. He had spent months in a rehabilitation hospital; learning to manage life in a wheelchair.
His life had been spared by less than an inch but there was nothing that could be done to reverse the damage to his spinal cord.
Edith held her hands out and Henry took them. The most important thing in the world—her husband was home.
PUBLISHER’S NOTE
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ABOUT NOREEN WAINWRIGHT
Noreen is Irish and now lives in the Staffordshire Moorlands with her husband, a dairy farmer. She works part-time as a mentor at Staffordshire University and the rest of her time is spent writing. Many of her articles and short stories have been published and she has co-written a non-fiction book.
She loves crime fiction, particularly that of the “golden age”
and that is what she wants to recreate with Edith Horton’s world.
Get in touch with Noreen:
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/noreen.wainwright Blog - http://www.ahomespunyear.blogspot.com Tirgearr Publishing - http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/
Wainwright_Noreen
BOOKS BY NOREEN
EDITH HORTON SERIES
TREATED AS MURDER, #1
Released: August 2014
ISBN: 9781311087256
Set in 1931, Edith Horton is a former VAD who finds herself not only struggl
ing with her inner demons but with the presence of evil in her village in the Yorkshire Dales. Her brother is suspected of murdering an elderly wealthy widow, and the sins of the past have echoes in her life and the lives of those close to her.
DEATH AT DAWN. #2
Released: July 2015
ISBN: 9781311764348
WWI is over but its echoes are still felt in the 1930s. Giles Etherington was a brave officer who also had a darker side. He does not return from a lone morning’s shooting for grouse on the
“glorious 12th”. Is his death an act of revenge for his actions during the war, or as a result of his behaviour since? Edith Horton, his wife’s best friend finds herself drawn into the quest for his killer.
CRIME AT CHRISTMAS, #3
Released: November 2015
ISBN: 9781311568892
Jeremiah Arkwright’s death was sudden and violent. He was a domestic tyrant and uses his strict religious beliefs to control his family. He also had fraught relationships with his farming neighbours. There was another side to Jeremiah, however – a secret life. Has somebody discovered his secret or has someone close to him sought revenge? Edith Horton is drawn into the dark secrets of Pear Tree Farm.
SWALLOW HALL MURDER, #4
Release: October 2016
ISBN: 9781370056538
What links the dead poet to Swallow Hall? Many lives have been damaged by a controlling mother, and more than one person has ties to the dead man. Edith has her mind full with concerns about her own relationship and her brother’s health. But, when one of her old friends returns home, Edith is soon involved in the mystery of the Swallow Hall Murder.
ALSO BY NOREEN
BALLYTIERNEY MYSTERIES
THE BODY AT BALLYTIERNEY, #1
Released: July 2017
ISBN: 9781370813674
When Simon Crowe’s body is discovered, old secrets threaten to expose the town's dark underbelly. Maggie Cahill, a priest’s housekeeper, is at a crossroads in her personal life when she receives a letter out of the blue from someone who knows secrets she thought she'd buried long ago. By the end of the investigation, will Maggie’s life be changed forever? And will Ballytierney ever be the same?
[Edith Horton 05] - Murder in Retreat Page 21