Cruel Tide

by Ruth Sutton

  At least I don’t have the heavy bag, Judith thought as she began to walk up the hill. It’ll be at the flat when I need it later. And I might even have Irene with me. She won’t stay here when she knows what he’s been doing.

  Coming round the last bend in the road, she noticed that the house on the skyline was in darkness. No lights down the long drive, or in the house itself. The windows were black. Maybe Irene wasn’t home after all. Or not yet? It was dark but not late. She was probably still in town, or shopping. A car passed her going down the hill and Judith decided not to let herself be seen walking down the long drive. She would get over the wall and go round to the back through the little orchard, out of sight of the road. No one would see her. She gripped the key in her pocket.

  When she reached the back door, she knocked on it hard just in case there was someone at home. She had a story prepared about having left something in a drawer upstairs, but there was no response, and she opened the door noiselessly and slipped inside. Out of the wind it was very quiet in the house and smelled of the familiar lilac scented polish. She thought for a moment about the layout of the rooms and wondered how long it would be before Irene arrived.

  First things first. Judith felt her way through to the hall and up the stairs while her eyes adjusted to the gloom. In the main bedroom she padded across the dense carpet to the wardrobe on the other side and slid back the door. If the tie was where she’d seen it before, it would be in one of the small drawers to the side of the main hanging space. She needed more light and cursed herself for not bringing a torch. It was a plain tie, and there were several quite visible among the striped and patterned ones that were arranged neatly in two of the drawers. She drew out the first plain one, but it was black and had no design. Must be the one he wore for funerals. Another turned out to be dark red when she turned towards the uncurtained window for a little more light. She put the wrong ones back carefully and pulled out the third. Bingo. Here it was, dark blue with the small round design. She took it over to the window and peered at it. The handles of the two knives reminded her of Anthony and the movement of his dying body in the encroaching tide. She folded the tie and put it carefully into her jacket pocket.

  One goal achieved. When they compared the tie with the badge Sam had found in the Landrover, everyone would know that Thornhill had something to do with Anthony’s death. Now for the next step, to get into the office and see what Thornhill had hidden away in the desk drawer. If he was running some kind of business, making money out of Montgomery House as she had discovered, then the desk contents would have to be revealed. Irene wasn’t here to help, so she would have to do it on her own. Her heart was beating strongly but she felt more alive and alert than she’d felt in days.

  Downstairs Judith tried the door of the office but wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She knew where all the room keys were kept, on the back of a cabinet door in the kitchen, and there they all were, more than she had envisaged. This could slow things down. She glanced at her watch. Nearly five. She’d expected Irene to be back by now, but it was OK. Judith knew what was meant by Alan Thornhill being ‘back late’. That meant very late, hours away.

  Taking a few keys at a time, Judith tested each one in the office door. She was crouching down by the kitchen cabinet, replacing the first batch and picking out some more, when a light flickered through the window onto the wall of the kitchen above her head. A car was coming down the long drive. It might be Irene coming home, but there was no way to be certain. Judith threw the keys into the cabinet, closed the door and crawled across the hall into the living room on the far side. She looked around, excited but not frightened. She’d stay out of sight until she was sure who it was. The largest of the two sofas sat with its back to the wall, and she pulled it out slightly to get behind it, while the tyres of the car crunched on the gravel outside and she heard the car door bang. It must be Irene, Judith thought. Who else could it be? A second door banged. Was that the boot, or did Irene have someone with her? She sat quite still, waiting.

  A key clicked in the front door and light flared in the living room doorway. Judith smelled Irene’s familiar perfume, and heard the anticipated shopping bags drop onto the floor. Irene, still unseen, went into the kitchen and Judith heard the sound of water running. Another set of footsteps crunched the final few yards from the car to the door. The front door was closed and the feet were hushed by the carpet down the hall.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ Irene’s voice called.

  ‘Love one,’ said Alan Thornhill. Why was he here, Judith asked herself as his footsteps passed by the living room. The kitchen door stayed open and she could hear running water, the clink of china, drawers opening and closing. She thought about the keys she’d not had time to put back on their pegs. Would someone look in there? What else was in that cabinet? It was down low, next to the sink and it smelled of bleach. That was OK. There’d be no reason to open the door. Judith settled herself into a more comfortable position and wondered what to do. It was silly hiding there, but she didn’t move. The Thornhills had started to talk in the kitchen and the excitement of eavesdropping overcame any remaining shreds of caution in her exalted mood. She felt invisible, untouchable. Even her hearing felt sharper than before.

  ‘Do you think we’ve got enough?’ Irene was saying.

  ‘It’s enough,’ said Alan. ‘Photos, plenty of them and good ones too. Even got some video the last time. Not much but it would kill him in court.’

  ‘It’d never get to court,’ said Irene. ‘The family would never dare let it go that far. They’ve probably been covering up for him for years. We’ve got him. And there’s plenty of money. Start small like we usually do and then turn it on.’

  Judith was puzzled. She couldn’t think what this had to do with Montgomery House.

  Chairs scraped over the kitchen floor. There was a short silence before Alan Thornhill’s voice began again. ‘I still think it’s time we packed it in. I know I’ve said so before but this time I’m sure. Morrison’s getting twitchy. That nosey bastard copper went to see Graham, in his home. He was furious. Complained to Cardine, Cardine shouted at Morrison. I’ve told Brian to shut him down but he doesn’t listen to me.’

  Irene snorted. ‘Who does listen to you? I don’t any more. You’re at it again, bleating about giving up, just because things aren’t working out as smoothly as you like.’

  ‘It’s going wrong, I can feel it.’

  Judith listened, puzzled. She couldn’t recognise the two people she was hearing, although she knew their voices well.

  ‘First the damn kid,’ Alan’s voice continued. ‘All Harries had to do was get him further out where the tide would take him, but we end up with the body just down the road. Then the bloody man tops himself practically on our doorstep. He must have known the police would have to ask questions. The man was an idiot.’

  Silence. Judith tried to concentrate, to make sense of it.

  ‘So you think it’s all over,’ said Irene.

  ‘Time to take the money and run.’

  She laughed. ‘That’s your advice, is it?’

  ‘We could go to Spain. They’d never find us there.’

  ‘And never come back?’

  ‘Depends what happens.’

  ‘So I might have to stay in Spain with you for the rest of my life?’ Judith heard the chair scrape again. ‘I can’t think of anything worse. A bloody life sentence in the sun with the snivelling wreck of a man called my husband. No thanks.’

  ‘Don’t start all that again,’ Alan’s voice rose. ‘I had no choice about moving up here. They were my parents. Edwards was here already, and I knew what he’d be up to.’

  ‘There are always choices. And don’t give me the dutiful son speech either. I’ve heard it all before.’

  ‘I need a drink,’ came the reply and Judith froze. The drinks cabinet was just next to the sofa where she was hiding. The switch on the wall snapped and light flooded the room. She didn’t breathe, feeling the vibration i
n the floor as Thornhill walked across it. She heard the cabinet door squeak as it always did, the rattle of bottles, clink of a glass, the sound of liquid pouring, being drunk, pouring again. Thornhill slumped into the sofa, which slid back towards the wall, crushing Judith into a smaller space. Her knee throbbed and she could hardly breathe.

  Irene had followed him into the room and helped herself to a drink.

  ‘This time I mean it,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You put the money in my name, remember?’

  ‘I had to.’

  ‘Well I’ve left you a hundred pounds in the account, the rest is in my suitcase.’

  Alan moved on the sofa and Judith felt the pressure on her legs.

  ‘You’ve done what?’ he shouted. ‘We earned that money, together. You can’t just take it.’

  ‘Watch me,’ she said. ‘What will you do, tell the police?’ She laughed. More fluid poured into a glass. ‘You started all this,’ Irene said. She was close by. Judith smelled her perfume strongly. ‘You and your pervy friends. All they wanted to do after Malaya was carry on molesting little boys like they’d done in those bloody camps, and you were happy to drool and take pictures. Then Edwards got greedy and invited more boy fanciers to the party, used them to raise money, and everybody’s having a jolly time. But not enough money in that for us is there? Whose idea was it to make them pay us to keep quiet? That’s where all the real money upstairs comes from, and who’s idea was it? Not yours, you pathetic waste of space. Mine. That money’s mine, all of it. And now you’ve all cocked it up, giving that kid too much stuff, not even getting rid of him properly.’

  ‘You can’t blame me for that.’ Thornhill was whining, wilting under his wife’s scorn.

  Judith felt him lurch further back in the sofa. The meaning of what she was hearing burst into her mind and she felt sick. None of this should be happening. Irene was her friend, not this snarling monster. She had to get away from them, but how? What would they do if they found her? Her sore knee was twisted and hurting but she couldn’t move, not until Alan got up, or they both left the room. She was stuck, and no one knew where she was.

  Suddenly Thornhill stood up, and the pressure on Judith’s legs eased. Thank God, she thought. Now go, out of the room, turn out the light, leave the house. Let me get out.

  ‘Are you going to leave me?’ Alan whimpered.

  ‘Yes, at last,’ Irene said. ‘Should have done it months ago. If I wait any longer, you could fold up completely, blow us all away’

  ‘Is there someone else?’

  She laughed, that same short harsh laugh. ‘Why do I need another pathetic man?’ she said. ‘Look at you all, poncing around, having sex with young boys, not a real man amongst you. All these years I’ve been the good wife, dressed up, made meals, gone to those god-awful dinners. Bored, bored, bored out of my skull. No, there’s no one else. I’m getting the hell out, and you won’t find me, so don’t even try.’

  Irene walked away and her husband followed her. Judith could hear them. Footsteps up the stairs. Thornhill was pleading with his wife, ‘Don’t leave me, Irene, please,’ his voice fading as they went into the bedroom. Judith thought about how long it would take her to push back the sofa, get out into the hall, out of the door and away. Then the telephone rang, very loud, right above her head, on the table next to the sofa. She shrank back as footsteps came down the stairs, but it was the phone in the kitchen that Alan picked up. She couldn’t hear him very clearly and moved her head slightly towards the end of the sofa. If he stayed there for a few minutes, and Irene stayed upstairs, she might manage to get out. Her knee was very painful now, but it wasn’t far to the door. She began to move her legs.

  Too late. ‘OK, thanks, that’s fine,’ Alan said, and the phone clicked into silence.

  ‘Irene,’ Alan called up the stairs. ‘That was George at the Black Cock. They found Judith’s scooter in the yard, parked by the beer cellar door. He was telling me they had to move it. They know it’s hers.’

  Irene came to the top of the stairs. ‘Judith? What’s the little bitch up to now? I thought she was having a breakdown in St Bees.’

  ‘She was,’ said Alan.

  Irene ran down the stairs. ‘Christ, she’s been here. Did you get her doorkey off her?’

  ‘I didn’t know she had a key. Why would she come here?’

  ‘God knows. She’s in with that copper, the one Morrison can’t control. And you can’t control her, can you?’ They were both standing in the hall.

  ‘Where is she?’ said Irene. ‘The scooter’s still there. Where is she?’

  She ran to the office. Judith heard the door rattle. ‘Thank God she’s not got in here.’ More footsteps, into the kitchen.

  ‘Christ,’ said Irene. ‘Look at this. She’s been looking through the keys. She might have got in the office and then locked up again. Open it up Alan, don’t just stand there. See if anything’s missing.’

  Judith heard the office door open, drawers being pulled. ‘All the files are here,’ he said. ‘Looks like nothing’s been touched.’

  ‘Where is she?’ Irene screamed. ‘Come out, you little bitch. You can’t hide. You look down here,’ she said to Alan. ‘I’ll do upstairs. Look everywhere. Don’t screw this up, too.’

  Judith couldn’t breathe. She pushed herself down towards the floor, as far as the pain in her knee would allow, and waited. Could she reach the phone before he came back?

  The sofa was hauled away and Judith shrank down. Above her head Thornhill’s voice said, ‘Oh, God!’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ said Judith, her voice rising in panic. ‘Just voices, but I don’t know what you were saying.’ She looked up. Alan didn’t move, he just kept staring down at her over the back of the sofa. Irene’s face appeared, distorted with anger.

  ‘You stupid bitch,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t leave it alone, could you? Poking around in other people’s business. And look at you now, lying behind the damned sofa like a dead cat.’ She pushed the sofa back hard towards the wall and pain blazed in Judith’s knee, making her cry out.

  ‘Stay there,’ said Irene. ‘So now what do we do?’ she asked her husband. There was no response. ‘Do you realise what she’s heard?’ she went on. ‘Everything, every damn thing. We can’t let her go.’

  Judith wanted to beg them to let her leave, but the words dried in her mouth.

  Footsteps retreated and returned.

  ‘Where did you find that?’ asked Alan.

  ‘In the desk. It’s been there for years, since you came back from the war. Had you forgotten?’

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’

  ‘Not me,’ said his wife. ‘You. I’m taking the money and getting out of here before that copper boyfriend of hers turns up. You have to deal with her, and make it good. Say you found her in the house and it was an accident. Tell them anything you like, but just do it, or she’ll tell them everything.’

  ‘No,’ he said.

  The sofa was pulled back. Irene was holding a revolver. ‘See this?’ she said to Judith. ‘This is where the talking stops. Get up.’

  Judith struggled to her feet, holding on to the back of the sofa. She looked into Irene’s eyes and saw the hatred coming back at her. Irene pointed the revolver at her and gestured with it. ‘Sit down there where we can see you, away from the phone,’ she said. ‘Get something to tie her with,’ she said to Alan. ‘Anything. You were a Boy Scout, weren’t you? Hurry up.’

  Thornhill came back carrying some parcel string. Irene sighed. ‘All right, use plenty. Put her wrists behind her.’

  Thornhill stood still and Irene thrust the gun into his hands. ‘For God’s sake, man. Hold this.’

  She took the string, pulled Judith’s hands behind her back and started to bind her wrists together, tight, very tight. Judith cried out.

  ‘Shut up,’ said Irene. ‘It won’t matter when he puts a neat little bullet into you will it? N
ow put your legs out.’ Judith winced as Irene tied the ankles too, and pushed her back on to sofa, trussed like a chicken and unable to stop herself from falling over sideways.

  ‘I can’t do it here,’ said Alan. ‘And now she can’t move.’

  ‘Not my problem. The carpet cost a fortune but it doesn’t matter how much mess you make. I won’t be here. I’m taking the car.’

  ‘Where can I take her?’ he said.

  ‘Anywhere, but don’t leave it too long. That young policeman’s no fool.’

  Judith could see Alan out of one eye. He was looking around him in desperation.

  ‘Don’t leave me,’ he said again.

  Irene was out of Judith’s vision, but she heard drawers opening in the office, then her quick footsteps going upstairs. A couple of minutes later Irene came down again, with something heavy bumping down the stairs behind her.

  ‘Put the gun down and help with this bag,’ she ordered.

  He won’t help, surely, thought Judith, but he did, holding the gun in one hand and helping his wife drag the bag to the front door and out towards the car parked outside. Judith struggled but she couldn’t move. The car engine started and the wheels crackled on the gravel as it turned and disappeared down the drive. Judith rolled against the back of the sofa so she could see out of both eyes. Alan Thornhill stood in the living room doorway looking at her.

  ‘You can’t do this,’ Judith said.

  ‘I have to.’

  ‘Just leave me here. I won’t tell.’

  ‘You know you will.’

  ‘I can wait, until you’re away. Take my scooter and the money from my purse. You could be on a train and away before they find me.’

  ‘Are they coming?’

  ‘Of course, but you still have time.’

  He shook his head. He walked carefully round her and went to the drinks cabinet, picked up a bottle of brandy. Then he switched off the lights in the hall and the living room and sat down in an armchair on the other side of the room, pulled the stopper out with his teeth, spat it away and took a long drink from the bottle. In the faint light from the kitchen Judith saw a trickle of brandy glisten as it ran down his chin.