He wiped his wet lips on the back of his hand. ‘It was just a daft thing we did when we were young. It doesn’t mean anything.’
‘It means something to her. She keeps the ring by her heart.’
‘Aye, Bonnie would make sure she got herself a nice bit of gold.’ He leant over the table, suddenly quiet, and his lips was working so that he looked like there was something stuck between his teeth what he couldn’t get out. Then he were up and dashing for the door, and he were sick in the bushes. He couldn’t straighten his back for a while. He stood there with his hands pressing into his knees and breathing deep and looking like it were the hardest thing in the world to do.
‘Come inside and sit down. It’s your nerves and that rum what’s done that to you.’
‘My nerves are fine,’ he mumbled as he staggered inside. He looked awful; his skin were grey as ash, and he were starting to shiver.
‘Sit yourself down, and I’ll make more tea.’
‘I’d be fine if you’d just have done with her and we could be on our way.’ He trudged into the next room, but he did as I’d told him. I boiled the kettle and made the tea and poured the very last trickle of the fly-paper water into his cup.
The day dragged on. Frank got worse. His breathing were quicker than usual, and he kept having to run out the door and for the privy, though sometimes he didn’t make it.
He were weakening now as the rain poured down. How it thrashed on that roof! You’d have thought God were pelting stones at us. When Frank spoke, I couldn’t hear him over the noise. Not that I wanted to – anything to drown out his moaning and his accusations.
‘It’s that bit of tea you let me drink,’ he said more than once and scowled at me as his teeth chattered. ‘Fucking bitch,’ he said, but I couldn’t tell whether he were saying this about me or Bonnie.
But as the rainclouds blacked out the sky, and night came and I had to light a candle so I could see further than an inch from my face, he stopped saying anything. He curled up on that wooden chair with his winter coat over him and closed his eyes. Every now and then his body would buckle, and he’d need to empty one of his ends. Half the time he didn’t manage to get to the bucket I’d brought in for him and there’d be stains seeping from his trousers and splatters all over the tiles. Dear God, the stench in there were enough to kill you!
‘She really loved you,’ I said to him in one of his quieter times. The rain and the wind made the ashes in the grate blow up and move about as if they was the ashes of some haunted soul. ‘She would have done anything for you.’
I left him there shivering. I hoped my words had meant something to him, but I doubted it; he were too far gone by then.
With the rope in one hand and a candle in the other, I went to the bedroom, peeked through the gap to see what state she were in, then crept inside.
The smell weren’t too bad in there, and the rain didn’t seem quite so loud, though it scratched on the windows worse than it did in the front room. He’d laid Bonnie down on her back with her head at a funny angle, and her arm had fallen off the mattress and looked as if it were broken. The gale through the window frames made strands of her hair swirl about her face.
I set the candle on the side and went to put her straight. As I touched her skin, I gasped at how cold she were. Dead. I’d given her too much of Grandma’s medicine, and she’d died in her sleep. Died peacefully.
I pinched myself for my stupidity, but inside me, there were something like relief. I wouldn’t have to strangle her after all.
I sat on the bed. I were trying to work out what I should do next. I’d been so set on taking the rope to her that I hadn’t thought what I’d do afterwards. I were trying to get things clear in my mind when there came a little murmur. The faintest movement of her lips, a flickering of her eyelids. She weren’t dead after all.
My second chance for revenge, though it weren’t as sweet as I’d been expecting.
I stood up, pulled the rope taut between my hands. I lifted her head and slid the rope underneath her neck. I straddled her, taking care not to tear her dress, and grabbed the opposite ends of the rope.
Pull. Just pull, I said to myself as I stared at her.
Not a muscle had moved in her face; she were sleeping soundly, without nightmares, like a child sleeps. The candlelight struck her chain which were bunched around her neck underneath the rope. I tugged the ring out from under her dress and held it in my palm. I felt the heat of the gold on my skin and saw how the edges of it had smoothed down over the years from how much she’d caressed and kissed it.
I couldn’t do it.
I dropped the rope. I dropped the ring, and it bounced against her breast. I jumped away and cursed her and took my own locket into my hands and wept. Everything she’d done to me and my own, and now my tenderness were getting in the way of justice! My fingernails pierced the skin on my palms before I felt the pain.
Foolish girl!
I gripped the rope again and paced back and forth before Bonnie, urging myself to be strong. It burned my hands as I twisted it, but each time I lurched for her, I tore myself away before I could do any harm.
I charged out of there, slamming the door behind me. Back in the foulness of the front room, Frank shivered under his coat. He raised his head to glance at me.
‘Is it done?’ he whispered, and I barely heard him.
All I saw were him earlier, that wicked grin on his face as Bonnie cowered beside him. All I heard was his taunts and his mocking laughter about a woman what’d only ever spoken about him with love. All I felt was his hands on my skin and the pleasure he took from having me.
The rope were tight in my hands, and without thinking too hard about it, I marched over to him, went behind his chair, tossed the rope over his head and into the hollow of his neck, and I pulled back hard. I were so fast he didn’t have time to do anything.
I pulled until his head were sliding over the back of his chair. His hands fought against the rope. His body twisted as he tried to get away from me. No matter how hard he struggled, nothing were going to stop me.
I dragged on that rope with all my strength. My arms trembled. Still, Frank carried on jerking, his feet slipping on his own shit on the tiles as he failed to get sure footing. Did I let go? Did I heck! I held on to that rope until he’d lost his fight, until his face had gone purple and his tongue stuck out all fat from his mouth and his eyes bulged from their sockets. Until he looked just like my pa had looked when he’d finally gone still on the end of that noose.
After, I had to sit down. I were panting and sweating as I made my way into the kitchen. The rain had started to ease off, and in the sky, the clouds was breaking and skidding along so fast that moonlight flashed on and off. I sipped the dregs of my tea to moisten my dry mouth, and once my hands had stopped shaking, I gathered my things and walked out the back door.
The earth had that smell to it of rain in the summer night. Leaves had been beaten off their branches and lay soggy on the ground. The wind were sharp, and the trees in the woods behind me yawned and whispered amongst themselves.
There were only one road in and out of Ulstone, and so I walked it quick and went north. The houses was dark at the windows, but the inn were alive, and men’s ruddy faces laughed and jeered behind the glass, though they never looked outside. I ran past the last few houses with the church looming up ahead and didn’t slow until there was only hedges about me and the noise of animals.
I kept walking. A little while later, I heard the distant tolling of Ulstone’s bells what told me it were eleven o’clock, and with each step I put between Frank and Bonnie and myself, the easier I could breathe.
What did I have in my head, you might be thinking? I hadn’t had the nerve to strangle Bonnie, but I would see her dead. Folk had seen her that day asking after Frank. Frank were dead in his house. Bonnie’s things was everywhere. I didn’t imagine that a blacksmith could go too long in a place like that without being needed, and when people went looking, they�
�d find him there dead. I’d wait for the law to serve the justice it had failed to give eight years ago.
I were convincing myself of this as I walked, how it were the best thing to do. I kept saying it over and over to myself. I stopped to open my locket and take out the curl of Ma’s hair and brush it over my cheek, hoping it would give me some comfort or bring her voice to me on the wind, but it didn’t. I closed the locket and tucked it inside my dress and carried on walking.
I tried shaking out thoughts of Bonnie waking to find her beloved Frank dead and reeking with his own shit and sick and her being forced to the gallows for the crowds to ogle and jeer at. She’d draw in the people, that would be certain. They’d call it a holiday to come and see her swing, see her beautiful body gnash at the noose before it were cut down and taken to the doctors and their knives.
I would not think about it. I concentrated on the rhythm of my strides. Once or twice, something shot out of the hedgerows beside me and gave me a start, but they was nothing but rats or weasels. And then, on the horizon, there came some black sets of buildings and the faint pricks of candlelight. I’d reached another village.
Like Ulstone, this one were small, and most folk were sleeping inside their homes. This village had a public house too, though it weren’t as big as Ulstone’s inn. Men’s voices pounded through the walls and echoed in the empty road. Outside the door, in the pool of a streetlamp, a dog slept as it waited for its master. I were smiling at the sight of this dog, so peaceful and innocent as it lay there, not understanding a thing about grief and hate, when the pub door opened. The dog lifted its head, made a quick dive out of the drunkard’s way, and kept its eyes on the man as if it didn’t trust him.
The man staggered out. Cries followed him, and the door were slammed on him; he were no longer welcome, so it seemed. He cursed at the door and then began to fiddle with himself down there until I saw his private part pop out from his trousers; he were peeing against the door! Wobbling, he peed all up and down and side to side, then shook himself, folded himself back inside his trousers, and smiled as if he’d done an honest day’s work. Then he stumbled towards the road.
I’d been keeping to the shadows, but he were heading straight for me. I needed to move. I started to run but he saw me. He shouted something what were indecipherable, and then his boots was stomping up behind me. He were quick for a drunk! My legs didn’t seem to be working very well though; I’d lost most of my strength tugging on that rope.
‘Lucy!’ He were right behind me. His hand came to my shoulder and spun me round. I were ready to slash at him but found him to be smiling. The moonlight put a mad twinkle in his eyes. ‘Lucy, isn’t it? Lovely little Lucy.’
I fought through my brain and the memories until I recognised his face. ‘Paul Meadows.’
‘That’s right. Well done. You’re the one who gave me this.’ He pointed to his right eye, and I could just make out the faint cut on his eyebrow and the smudge of a bruise. He blew out a long breath because the run had made him pant, and he wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘Not that I blame you. Always causing trouble, I am.’
‘So I see.’ I kept glancing behind him to make sure no one had followed him out. They hadn’t. ‘You ain’t got far since last I saw you.’
‘Walked most of it. Thought it would do me good.’ He laughed heartily. ‘Neither have you, so it seems. How is your beautiful Miss Dayton?’ He leant forward conspiratorially and winked, and I smelt the beer on him.
‘Sleeping.’ It weren’t really a lie.
He nodded, and after looking about himself – trying to remember where he were, so I thought – he turned back to me with a frown as the village’s church bells struck midnight. ‘You’re out late. Meeting an admirer?’
‘No.’ I began to walk away from him, but he kept step beside me.
‘Does your Miss Dayton know where you are?’
I didn’t answer him. I hoped he’d be like any other animal and go away when he got bored.
‘So this is north, is it? This is where you were heading?’
I clamped my arms across myself and tried to hurry. He giggled and trotted beside me.
‘You’ll make me ill, all this running after you.’
‘Then stop.’
‘Oh, come on, Lucy. Lucy!’ He grabbed my arm, and I swung round and landed a punch on his left eye this time. He fell back clutching his face, though it hadn’t been a hard punch, and when he stood up again there weren’t a mark on him.
‘It’s all right,’ he said breathlessly, ‘I won’t hurt you, Lucy. I … I’m sorry, for what I did to your Miss Dayton. It was wrong of me.’ He sighed and dropped his head back so he were looking up at the sky as if he were suddenly exhausted. ‘I can’t help it sometimes.’
‘You should keep your hands to yourself.’
He nodded, then dropped to his knees and sat on the road, worn out. ‘I don’t blame you for what you did to me.’
‘Neither do I,’ I said, glaring down at him. ‘And you should be ashamed for pissing on that pub door.’
‘Oh, they deserved it.’ He winked at me. ‘You are a fierce little thing, aren’t you? I bet Miss Dayton counted her lucky stars when she found you to protect her.’
I turned from him. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
‘I really am sorry to have frightened her like I did. I can’t remember too much but I … well, I remember bits of it. I remember her screams. I remember you shouting at me to let go of her. You’re like her little guard dog, aren’t you?’
He tugged the hem of my frock, and I thought he were going to try and go for me like he’d gone for Bonnie, but he were just frowning and looking sad. ‘Your gown is torn, Lucy. I could fix it for you if you like? I could make you a new one?’
‘No, thank you.’ I pulled my dress out of his hands.
He dragged himself to his feet, wobbled for a moment before finding his balance, and blinked the stars out of his eyes.
‘Give my sincere apologies to your mistress, won’t you, Lucy? I do so hope I have not harmed her in any way. Really, I never meant to. We’ve all done things we never meant to, haven’t we? But I’m not a bad man, Lucy. You understand? Underneath all the shit, I’m not a bad man.’
He turned towards the village, his shoes scuffing on the road as he struggled to walk. ‘Perhaps we might meet on the road again sometime? I should like to make you both new dresses, two new dresses of emerald green for you and your mistress … emerald green …’ He went off singing to himself about dresses and what-not. I watched him until he’d gone out of sight.
I stood there on that black road, and half of my body were pulled one way and the other half the other.
If I hadn’t seen that awful man! If he hadn’t made me think, made me remember, made me sorry …
Damn him and his drink! Damn me and my conscience! Damn Bonnie!
I stalked back to Ulstone as the night stole away my time.
Chapter 14
It were after one in the morning when Ulstone come up before me. The place were truly dark now with nothing stirring at all, or nothing what I could see, anyway.
I waited on the edge of the village, wondering if I really did want to do this – return to Frank’s house. It wouldn’t be pleasant. But Bonnie were in there, and she’d be scared when she woke, and no matter how much I told myself I hated her, the thought of her in pain were not as enjoyable to me as it should have been.
So I walked on until I saw Frank’s house behind the grey bushes and the yellow glow of a candle through the window. I crept round to the back and pushed open the door, trying to be quiet, but of course, the door stuck on the kitchen tiles and made a screech.
My empty cup were on the kitchen table where I’d left it. The fire in the range were almost out. The smell of Frank’s shit made me put a hand to my mouth. And then, just one of them feelings, you know, like someone watching you.
Holding my breath, I tiptoed towards the next room. Bonnie were in there, on her hands
and knees by Frank’s corpse. Her sleeves was pushed up to her elbows. There were a bucket of foul water beside her and an old towel in her hands what was brown, and her mauve dress were darkened here and there with water or something worse. She leant back and rested on her ankles, sighed, and brushed her hair out of her face.
‘I knew it would be a bad death,’ she said without turning towards me. ‘Didn’t know it would smell so awful though.’ She dunked the towel in the bucket, wrung it out, and wiped the tiles. ‘It was supposed to be you.’
‘I know.’
She nodded sadly, then pointed at Frank. ‘It was probably for the best. The rope, I mean. More merciful.’
‘Don’t know about that.’ I went further into the room. The rope was draped over Frank’s body, and there was clear bruises round his neck. ‘Didn’t mean for it to be.’
She flinched, breathed in shakily. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I were leaving you.’
She dunked the towel again. ‘Where were you going?’
I shrugged. Honestly, I didn’t know. I would have walked until my feet had been ribbons.
I slumped onto the chair. ‘I were going to hang you, you know. I were going to let Frank die from the arsenic. I assumed someone would find you both and think you’d poisoned him and killed yourself. Poison is a woman’s weapon, ain’t it?’
A faint smile passed over her face. ‘What happened?’
Again, I shrugged; I weren’t prepared to tell her I’d gone soft. ‘I couldn’t do it. So I left you here. I thought the police might say you killed Frank, and they’d hang you instead.’
Not a glimmer of shock could be found in her features. Perhaps she’d known all along that I were evil.
‘Why did you come back?’
‘God knows.’
She dropped the towel in her bucket. On top of her chair were one of Frank’s old shirts. She got to her feet stiffly, swayed slightly, then pushed the shirt over the floor with her foot to take up the brown water. Unsteadily, she lifted the bucket and hobbled outside with it. I heard the gush of water as she threw it into the privy. She came inside again and went to the bedroom. There were the snagging and tearing of material, puffing and panting, and in a few moments she came through in her old blue gown with her hair tied back with a plain ribbon. She sat down. Frank were between us.
Convenient Women Collection Page 17