“Come closer and I will shoot.”
“And if you do, you will go to prison for a very long time, son. Is that what you want?”
“I want what’s mine. The house should be mine.”
“He thinks that with me gone, Bryn Bach will be his,” said Leonard.
“It will. Even if I go to prison, my mother will sell the house on my behalf.”
“And keep the money for herself,” said Leonard.
“Shut your fucking mouth!”
“Drop the gun,” came another voice, from the same direction he and Matthew had come. PC Lewis stood there now and Matthew backed up a step against a bush, swinging the gun wildly in all directions.
“Don’t come any closer. Or I will kill all of you.”
“That’s a double-barrelled shotgun, son," said PC Morgan. "Even if you’re a sharpshooter, you’ll only get off two shots before you need to reload. There are four of us and, if you listen, a lot more on the way.”
In the distance Leonard could hear the faint sound of multiple police car sirens approaching, probably arriving at the front of the house. Matthew heard too, because his eyes started to dart around the clearing.
“Shut up. Shut up all of you. Or I will at least kill him.”
Matthew appeared crazy now, turning in a half circle, aiming the gun at each of them before levelling both barrels at Leonard.
“He told me, Adrian,” said Leonard, stepping to one side of the hole. Feeling more emboldened, he reasoned that if Matthew chose to shoot him now, at least Adrian was safe and there would be multiple witnesses to his action. “He confessed to me how he tried to blackmail Max Williams and then killed him.”
“Shut the fuck up! I didn’t kill him. He tried to grab hold of me. So I pushed him away and he fell. I didn’t—”
“You didn’t try to save him, though, did you? You could have jumped in to help, but you didn’t. You let a drowning man die.”
“Why shouldn’t I? He was a paedophile, a bastard-fathering pervert, as well as the worst kind of sinner—just like my brother. He deserved to drown like the pathetic rabid dog that he was—”
But Leonard’s cousin didn’t get a chance to finish the sentence.
Hidden within a thick evergreen bush where Matthew had been standing, a figure stepped forwards and swung what looked like a cricket bat at his head. The blow was not only fierce and powerful, but done with frightening accuracy, striking him on the side of the head. Matthew stumbled sideways, falling to his knees, dropping the gun and rolling slightly into the slope. All at once, seeing their opportunity, both officers began to move quickly forwards to try to reach him. Leonard took the opportunity to hurry away from the sinkhole. But the officers were too far away and Matthew, conscious still and desperate, scrambled to raise himself from the ground while reaching a hand out for his gun. This time, behind him, his attacker strode fully into view.
Freya Williams.
Matthew managed to fire off a random single shot before Freya, without fear or hesitation, connected another blow directly to the back of his head. This time he fell forwards, his body rolling down the rest of the steep slope and dropping into the crevice before anyone could reach him. Almost instantly, a splash could be heard. After a quick glance at the fierce, triumphant and frankly frightening face of Freya, Leonard joined PC Lewis, who had dashed to the edge of the sinkhole and grabbed the cricket bat from Freya. Behind them Leonard could hear PC Morgan barking orders into his phone.
“Dispatch. We need emergency services with a ladder. And get some medics here, pronto. We have one man fallen into a sinkhole, another with a head injury and one shot in the chest.”
With a loud crackling of tramped grass, other police officers, these in stark-black uniforms with black helmets and carrying guns, began appearing from each direction. Instantly, PC Morgan ordered them to stand down their weapons. Leonard wondered who had been shot, until he turned to see PC Morgan leaning over the figure of Adrian, laid out on the ground.
“No.” Leonard mouthed the word but no sound came, and began to rise. One of the black-uniformed officers moved over and pushed Leonard firmly back down, telling him not to move. But he could still turn his head.
Adrian lay unmoving on the ground, his eyes closed. Blood oozed from the left side of his chest.
“Please, no,” he finally choked out.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Casa di Luca
Adrian arrived at Bryn Bach with a special house-warming gift for Lenny the day before the house-warming party. Apart from wanting to be with him earlier and help out in whatever way he could—injury willing—he also felt nervous about this particular present.
Friends knew he always went the extra mile in seeking out meaningful gifts for people, but he didn’t know Lenny well enough to guess how he might react.
Having his left arm in a sling still meant him being restricted, and even though he felt a twinge of pain now and then, he had pretty much mended. Being unable to drive with one hand, Lenny had wanted to pick him up from Drayton, but his man had been crazy with work and then needed to rush to Wales to sign off on final items of work on the house.
Instead, Adrian had cadged a lift with Toni and Jack who had both volunteered to help Lenny with the arrangements. Just as well, because Toni wanted to hear all about Adrian’s meeting in Cambridge on the way down.
Apart from recuperating in Drayton, Adrian had found a day to meet up with his new boss, Tom Bradford, in nearby Cambridge and, after some negotiations, had confirmed he would be starting work for him in London the following Monday. Lenny had breathed a sigh of relief when Adrian had called with the news. Lenny wanted him in his London home as much as he ached to be there.
Adrian directed Jack to park up in the lane rather than outside the house. He wanted to inspect the fruits of their labour on the walk to the front door. With his good arm braced on the top of the door frame of the cab, he climbed out of Jack’s pickup, then turned around and retrieved his bag and wrapped gift from the back seat. While he waited for Jack and Toni to collect their holdalls, he surveyed the driveway.
Lenny had left the entrance open, probably expecting them to drive up to the house. A fresh coat of white paint made the gate sparkle, set against the backdrop of professionally groomed hedgerows and manicured trees and bushes, so different from the overgrown mess that had originally met them all those months back.
They scrunched their way in companionable silence down the gravel driveway to the house, each of them remarking when the newly spruced up façade came into view.
Since his last visit, the original flint work all around the lower level of the house had been thoroughly cleaned, the speckled rock cladding now vibrant and authentic and offset by the brick upper level which had been given a fresh coat of white paint. Only those looking for modernisations would spot the new sash windows of dark wood—probably oak—and the new guttering along the front of the roof, both items sympathetically chosen to match the originals. Even the portico and front door had been given a makeover. As Adrian approached he felt sure he could feel the house smiling.
Lenny had not heard them arrive and the sheer delight on his face at opening the front door and seeing them on the doorstep filled Adrian with a fondness he had only experienced since meeting Lenny, and one he had come to treasure.
After hugs and kisses, with Lenny ushering Toni and Jack into the house and telling them to drop their bags in their room, Adrian took his turn in his lover’s arms but then held Lenny back. After taking a deep breath, he held out his present.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I commissioned these for the house. A friend of mine in Norwich runs her own pottery studio and I asked her to create a couple of identical house signs in ceramic, a replacement for the one at the front gate and one to display here above the front door.”
Lenny unwrapped the ceramic tiles in front of Adrian. In bold letters, they announced the name of the house, which in Welsh meant ‘small hill’, and, in a curv
y script beneath, he had added three simple words in Italian, because in Max’s letter to Luke he had written about Luke’s dream for them to travel across Italy together.
B r y n B a c h
- Casa di Luca –
Luke’s home.
Leonard stood staring down, frozen to the spot. Adrian was about to ask if he liked the artwork but then noticed Lenny’s hands shake slightly, saw him swallow a couple of times and a tear form in the corner of his right eye.
“Oh, shit, Lenny. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, no. They’re beautiful, Ade. Perfect. I love them,” said Lenny, squeezing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger before reaching out and pulling Adrian into a gentle hug, careful not to touch his left arm. “We are so much on the same wavelength. I feel the same way. This is Luke’s house. Always was and always will be. Let’s fix them up today ready for the party tomorrow so everyone can see them. But before that, I’ve got something I need to show you.”
He led Adrian to the living room, to what was once the bare wall in the alcove to the right of the fireplace, where a small cabinet now stood. Six large-framed photographs hung there now, two in the old sepia tones of the construction of Bryn Bach and Lord Charles with his arm around a young Harold Day. Two were of Luke and Max together. But the last two Adrian had not seen before, of Lenny and himself. One had them laughing at a joke together in the shell of the living room, in overalls and covered in plaster dust, while the other was them sitting on the top step of the terrace, with the sunset behind. All around the larger pictures, long white rectangular frames had been mounted—some positioned vertically, some horizontally—that held the small Polaroids of Luke’s friends at play.
“Toni took the ones of us. Brilliant resolution on her phone camera. Kieran got them all framed for me. What do you think?”
Adrian had to take a moment before responding. Of course, he appreciated the photographs of Luke and Max and the construction of Bryn Bach. But the ones of Lenny and himself, of their burgeoning relationship, touched a place deep inside him.
“Amazing. And speaks to the history of the house.”
“Exactly. A Bryn Bach history wall.”
When Adrian turned to look at Lenny, his eyes deflected to a large oil painting over the fireplace. He took a moment to realise what he was seeing. Someone had replicated the photograph of Luke, Pippa, Howie and Freya playing in the garden together as teenagers. The whole ensemble with the dance of light behind them felt like life, and youth and joy personified. Whoever had painted Luke, had captured his features wonderfully, the eyes with the same longing they’d had in the original photograph.
“See what I mean when I say we’re on the same wavelength? I asked for the actual photo to be enlarged, but Kieran’s contact told him the print had too many wrinkles and creases, and that he couldn’t do the picture justice without losing some of the resolution. I’m not sure I actually believe him now, because almost straight away, Isabelle, who I work with, piped up and asked if a friend of hers could make an oil painting based on the photo. And as you can see, her friend has a rare talent. For most people this is simply a happy portrait of youth. But for those of us in the know, this is a special moment in time captured and enjoyed in this house.”
“Oh my goodness, Lenny. It’s absolutely brilliant. Has anyone else seen this wall?”
“Apart from me? No, you’re the first. And I think I can hear Toni and Jack coming down the stairs, so they’ll be next,” said Lenny. “And from tomorrow? Everyone who comes to the house.”
* * * *
The official kick-off for the party was one o’clock.
To keep in good favour with the locals, Lenny had asked Megan Llewellyn and her team to cater the party. They’d even hired Maggie Llewellyn—her daughter—and two of her young friends to don white shirts and black skirts or trousers and offer guests drinks and finger food on silver platters in the house and garden. Maggie, her friends, and the burly Manor Inn chef—they never had figured out his name—arrived at eleven to set up tables and chairs in the garden and a bar to one side, and to begin preparing and laying out the finger food in the kitchen. Both Lenny and Adrian stayed well out of the way, seeing the hive of activity, and giving them room to work their magic.
Mary texted Lenny to say she would be arriving early, because she had to pick up another guest, and also because she wanted to park in the driveway, her husband having mobility issues. Lenny said he had offered Mary and her husband the downstairs room, but Mary had declined, saying she wanted to get them back home the same day.
She arrived at twelve-thirty, and Adrian joined Lenny at the front door. Her resemblance to Matthew should have been frightening, except her features seemed softer in some way and her personality was open and friendly. After whispering to the man in the wheelchair, and him nodding in return, she came up, and without a single word of introduction, threw her arms around Leonard.
“Leonard. I am so sorry. I feel partly responsible.”
“How could you be responsible?” asked Lenny, returning the hug then letting her go.
“Not sure how much the police told you, but Matthew called me the day he decided to come here. Said he was going to have it out with you once and for all. My brother is nothing but bluster most of the time, full of hot air, and when I called Freya, she assured me you had a friend staying who looked as though he could handle any trouble.” Mary looked over at Adrian and smiled. “I had no idea Matthew would be carrying a gun, otherwise I’d have called the police myself. Honestly, that’s not like him at all. But then, I had no idea he was in such dire financial straits. He’d borrow money from me every once in a while—more of a handout, really—usually citing the fact that Mum wasn’t working. And I knew he liked a flutter here and there, but never realised things had gotten so serious. The police told me that he’s involved with some pretty nasty and ruthless loan sharks.”
Adrian refused to feel sorry for Matthew. On the streets he had witnessed the results of addiction first-hand—drink, drugs and gambling, sometimes a combination of all three—and had experienced far worse hardship in his own life than owing money. With the right support, by talking to the right people like Citizen’s Advice or even Gamblers Anonymous, Matthew could have gotten legitimate help without resorting to crime.
“It’s all water under the bridge, Mary,” said Lenny, as magnanimous as ever. “I’m just pleased you and your husband agreed to come.”
Mary introduced her husband, George, in the wheelchair—also a lawyer—and pointed to an older gentleman with a walking stick, currently leaning into the back of their car.
“And that’s my father.”
Aha, thought Adrian, Mr Darlington was very much alive and well. So much for what Lenny’s aunt had told Lenny. Once their introductions had been made, Adrian took the gift of wine from the older man and led them through the house towards the outdoor furniture overlooking the back garden. Maggie and her crew enjoyed a well-earned rest at one of the garden tables before the bulk of the guests started arriving. While Lenny chatted to his guests, Adrian went to fetch everyone drinks.
“Yes, I still kept in touch with Matthew,” said Mary, wheeling her husband to one side of the table. When Adrian looked back in the house, he noticed Mr Darlington had stopped to look at the photos in the alcove. “Largely, I suppose, because I felt a little guilty after college, leaving him alone with our mother.”
“I thought Matthew married?”
“He did. They lived with her. Can you imagine? The marriage lasted all of three months before the poor wife moved back in with her parents. But I’ve kept in touch with Freya and Pippa over the years. More so with Freya. Will be great to see them later. I just hope Freya’s still talking to me, now she knows what really happened to her father. But Freya’s how I knew about your progress on the house, which is absolutely lovely, by the way. Already brings back so many good memories.”
“She’s coming. I asked her to arrive early, too. For a chat
before the pandemonium begins.”
When Adrian took the glass of red wine over to Mr Darlington, Lenny and Mary came to join them, leaving Mary’s husband on the terrace. As he approached the alcove, Adrian could see the older man’s resemblance to Mary as plain as day, whereas Luke looked more like Lenny’s side of the family. When Mr Darlington accepted the wine, he dabbed at his eyes with one knuckle.
“You know, I can’t help thinking a large part of this is my fault,” he said, shaking his head. “Mary knows all this, but my marriage was over long before I walked out. Even when we were together I provided financial support as best I could, bought and paid for the flat my ex-wife is still living in, but spent as little time there as possible. Mainly because when the twins were growing up, Millicent changed, became intolerable with her preaching and nagging and lecturing. But what happened to my eldest brought things to a head. Most summers, when they came here, I either spent time working far too hard in a sales job that was frankly going nowhere, or with the woman who later became my second wife. I’m not without blame here and I can’t help thinking I failed Luke.”
“You did your best, Dad,” said Mary, squeezing his arm. “You supported his dream to go to art college.”
“Not financially. Because I simply didn’t have the money—”
“He knew that,” she added. Mary’s fondness for her father became evident. “Which is why he planned to take a few years out, to work before starting college.”
“And I had no idea Millicent had pressured him into joining the armed forces,” said Mr Darlington. “My son, the pacifist. She didn’t consult me and, worst of all, Luke said nothing.”
“Nobody knew. That was the year after Mr Williams died. Luke shut down, talked to nobody, not even me. I sensed something wasn’t right, when she outright refused to let any of us attend Mr William’s funeral, after everything he’d done for us. We didn’t come here the summer of that year, just stayed at home. What a lot of people didn’t know about Luke was when he was in high spirits, he was the life of the party, so much fun to be around. But when the lows took hold, he sank to rock bottom. He would close himself off completely from everyone. I only found out much later from Matthew about our mother pressuring him and getting him to agree to enlist. I imagine he would have agreed to anything by then.”
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