by T S Hunter
“I found out, a little while after, that Jean had given her a chunk of change if she promised to go away. They’d remortgaged the house to do it, but she gave Vi half the value of the place at the time, which was a lot of money, even in them days. But the deal was that she had to go away and never come back, and she took it.”
“Wow,” Russell said. “That’s cold.”
“Yeah, Jean could be like that,” Ron said. “Danny was fuming about it, too. Kept coming round looking for Vi, shouting about her being a money grabber, saying she ripped Jean off.”
“Charming,” Russell said.
“Yeah, that’s when we really fell out. He wanted to know where she’d gone. And I wouldn’t tell him. Well, she never told me, but I wouldn’t have told him anyway. She sent me a couple of cards over the years. I think she felt guilty. But I should have known from the start it was too good to last.”
Russell felt really sorry for Ron. He was a big guy, with big features. Not at all your classic good-looking bloke, but he had a good heart and he’d obviously fallen for the wrong woman. Knowing him now, Russell would never have guessed that Ron had such self-confidence issues. Just goes to show.
“What about the boy?”
“I let him go too, I had to. I’d have done anything for Vi, but she was determined. And we weren’t married, so that was that.”
“He was still your son,” Russell protested.
“Yeah well,” Ron said, shutting the conversation down. “It’s all in the past now. Better left there. But that’s why I was surprised Jean wanted to see Vi.”
“Well, she’s the official next of kin, isn’t she? Maybe Jean’s trying to put things right with her, hand over the estate.”
“What’s left of it. Danny’d as good as run them into the ground with all his carrying on. You know he’d even asked me for a loan, to help him out. After everything they did to me.”
“I had no idea,” Russell said.
“No, well. And I wouldn’t be surprised if Jean just wants to see her to tell her she’ll never get her hands on anything. I wouldn’t put it past her to have bequeathed the whole lot to the bloody Zoo or something daft.”
With a bit of history now in place, Russell was beginning to see the bigger picture. A few more pieces of the puzzle had slotted into place in his mind.
“I saw Violet this morning,” he admitted. “We went to the hospice with her to see Jean.”
Ron froze, winded by the news.
“How was she?”
“Nervous,” Russell said. “We didn’t make it in to see Jean, though. It turns out someone else has been going to see her in the last couple of weeks, pretending to be Violet.”
“What?” Ron looked totally baffled.
“Yes,” Russell said. “But what’s strange is that whoever it is, is going around dressed up as Violet from twenty years ago.”
He put the photograph on the bar between them, and Ron picked it up, staring fondly at Violet’s face.
“Huh,” Ron said, distractedly, handing the photograph back to Russell.
“But she was alright though, Vi? In herself?”
“Yes,” Russell said. “She seemed strong.”
Ron smiled.
“And the boy? Did you see him?”
Russell froze mid-sip, the thought suddenly hitting him. He put the pint down and jumped to his feet, already heading for the door.
“You know what?” he called back, excitedly. “I think I actually might have.”
5
Joe had found Russell waiting impatiently for him outside his office at the end of his shift. He’d been planning to go around to see Violet on his way home from work, but Russell had said he didn’t want him going alone. So here they were, standing side by side at her front door, listening for sounds from inside. Joe knocked again.
“I don’t think there’s anyone home,” he said. “Should we wait?”
Joe bent down and pushed the letterbox open, peering into the hallway beyond. The place was neat, but tired and old-fashioned.
A denim jacket hung over the post of the bannister, leading up stairs. Not Violet’s. Russell had been right—Violet’s son probably did still live here with her.
Russell stepped back off the doorstep and looked up at the windows above. No sign of life. Joe joined him on the pavement, looking down the alleyway at the side of the house.
Joe walked down the narrow alley, standing on tiptoes to peer over the wooden fence that surrounded a neat little courtyard garden. A metal and glass back door led into the kitchen, with a window in front of the sink looking out onto the garden. The window was open a fraction. Not enough to climb through, but enough to hear the faint crackle of the radio coming from within. The Eurythmics, “Who’s That Girl?” Just finishing.
Joe turned back to Russell, smiling.
“Joe? What are you doing?”
“Wait here,” Joe said. “He might try and do a bunk out the front.”
Russell frowned, but Joe was already climbing over the rickety wooden fence, hoping it would hold his weight. He was pretty sure someone was hiding in the house.
Joe dropped down quietly into the back garden and sidled up to the back door. Waiting, he listened. The radio DJ was excitedly introducing “Karma Chameleon”.
Above the sound of the radio, Joe heard a kettle clicking off as it reached boiling point, followed by the chink-chink of a teaspoon stirring against a china cup.
Taking a deep breath, Joe stepped out in front of the window, looking in, and came face to face with a young man in a loose white T-shirt, the word Relax printed in big bold letters on the front, a sharp bruise beginning to yellow on his cheekbone. The man yelled and dropped his mug into the sink, splashing tea everywhere.
The two of them froze for a second, staring at each other in surprise, before the young man inside made a break for the front door.
“Wait,” Joe called out, but the kid was gone.
He dashed to the back door and, finding it unlocked, ran into the house. Another cry from the young man, and Russell’s voice telling him to calm down and stay where he was—he just couldn’t help sounding like a policeman.
Joe joined them in the hallway as the young man turned, looking for another way out.
“It’s alright,” Joe said, holding his hands up reassuringly. “We just want to talk.”
“Who are you?” the young man asked, his voice trembling a little.
“We’re friends of your mum’s,” Joe lied.
“Well, she’s not here,” the kid said.
“Great,” Russell said, closing the front door behind him and guiding the kid back up the corridor. “We’ll wait. Be good to have a chat with you in the meantime anyway.”
The young man frowned, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again, lost for words.
“I’m Joe,” Joe said, extending his hand.
“Scott,” the kid replied, shaking Joe’s hand automatically.
His hand was warm, the skin soft. Greenish brown eyes flicked over Joe’s face, taking him in. He was young, not yet twenty, but taller than Joe. Slim shoulders, long legs, delicate features. Russell had been right. Throw on a plain dress and a cheap brown wig, and you’d have your mystery girl.
“We’ve met before,” Joe said. “Well, not met, exactly. But then you already know that.”
Scott’s shoulders slumped, realising that they knew his secret.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Why don’t we all sit down,” Russell said, guiding them to a small living room. “And you can tell us exactly what you’ve been up to.”
The three of them sat awkwardly in the lounge, Joe and Russell on the small sofa, Scott in a tall-backed armchair, legs jittering, fingers fidgeting. The remaining blue shoe on the table in front of them.
Russell looked around, pretending to take in the surroundings. He was actually just letting Scott stew.
As soon as Ron had mentioned the son he’d had with Violet, Ru
ssell had known that, somehow, Scott was the mystery woman Joe had seen at the club, and the one that both of them had chased near Jean’s hospice. What Russell didn’t understand was why?
“So, you’ve been going to see Jean in the hospice?” Russell asked.
Scott nodded, looking guilty.
“How did you know where she was?”
“Her husband phoned,” Scott said. “He left a message for my mum, saying she was ill and he thought she should go and see her.”
“But when I spoke to Violet yesterday, she didn’t even seem to know that her sister was ill,” Joe said.
“I deleted the message,” Scott replied. “Mum wouldn’t have wanted to see her. She’s said that for years. She’s always said she doesn’t want anything to do with her sister.”
“So,” Russell said, leaning forward, elbows on knees. “Why did you suddenly take it upon yourself to go and see her? And why dress like that?”
“Because he’d said in the message that she was sorry—they were both sorry—and Mum will never tell me what happened, and I thought if I could see her, I might be able to get Mum to go too, eventually.”
“Why would you want her to do something she so clearly doesn’t want to do?”
“Because they’re rich, and we need the money. And if Jean is dying, then Mum might inherit something, if she played her cards right. She should get what’s coming to her, shouldn’t she?”
“So you thought you’d dress up to look like your mum did back in the sixties and go and see Jean. What were you hoping to achieve?”
“I didn’t mean to dress like that, but I found the clothes in Mum’s wardrobe, and it suddenly seemed like a good idea. I just wanted to give her a little scare. I wanted her to think about what she’d done, all them years ago. Kicking my mum out the house, cutting her off like that. I wasn’t planning to talk to her dressed like that, just mess with her mind a bit.”
“Did your mum ever tell you why they fought?”
“Nah, but now I wish she had. Would have saved a lot of bother,” Scott said. “Anyway, Mum always said she’d never see her again unless she apologised, and I thought I could get her to do that much easier if I reminded her of the past.”
Joe frowned at him.
“I know it sounds stupid,” Scott continued. “But Danny had said in his message that she wasn’t all there most of the time. I thought if I could just see her and trigger an old memory, then maybe she’d feel bad about what happened and apologise to Mum.”
Russell leaned back again, inviting the story.
“Well, obviously, I looked younger than Mum would be, and nothing like her really, but the old bird is clearly losing it, because she took one look at me and started sobbing her eyes out, telling me how sorry she was for what had happened. How she should have believed me. How I wasn’t the only one he’d done it to.”
“Done what to?”
“She thought I was my mum, see? She told me how she knew that Danny had raped Mum, and how she knew that the baby was his. She told me she’d always known. But she’d thought Mum had asked for it, always flirting with him like that.”
“Danny raped Violet?” Russell asked.
“Not just once, either,” Violet said from the doorway.
All three of them stood up at the same time, talking over each other to explain what was going on.
“Mum, I...”
Violet held up a hand, silencing them all. She looked tired.
“I suppose I always knew you’d find out one day,” she said, coming into the room and sitting on the arm of Scott’s chair, resting her hand on his leg. “I should have told you. I know I always said you were never to talk to either of them, but I should have told you why.”
“I’m sorry, Mum,” Scott said. “I was just trying to help. I thought she owed you, you know?”
“What did you do, Scott?” Russell asked.
“After I’d seen Jean—after everything I found out—I was livid,” Scott said, his voice thick with emotion. “I went to see him, to challenge him about what he’d done and he just laughed in my face. He said you’d asked for it. You’d enjoyed it really. And if I was after any money, I was out of luck ’cause they were stony broke, and he was going to have to sell the house just to cover their debts.”
“You went to see Dan?” Violet asked.
“I had to. I had to see who he was. My dad.”
“He is not your father,” Violet said vehemently.
“Biologically he was, though, right?”
Violet let her head sag, shaking it sadly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been to see either of them?” she asked.
“Because I knew it would upset you, and I didn’t want to do that unless I knew you were going to get what was owed to you,” Scott said.
He took her hand in his, stroking her fingers with his own.
“So I went to see Jean again,” Scott said. “I wasn’t planning to, but when I found out that Dan was going to sell the house, I just wanted to make sure that if Jean died, you would get what was yours.”
“You had no right,” Violet said.
“I did it for you, Mum. They owe you.”
Russell could see that Violet was suffering, but he didn’t want to stop Scott’s account of what had happened.
“So you went to see Jean,” he prompted, “dressed as Violet again?”
“Yeah,” Scott shook his head, embarrassed to admit it. “I told her I forgave her. I told I was happy in my life. That it was all okay. We talked for ages. She told me everything about her and Danny, all the girls she’d found out about, all the lies, the gambling.”
“Oh Jeany,” Violet said.
“I think it did her good, Mum,” Scott said. “To get it all out. She said it was just her and I—well you—now. She said she was going to change her will, to make sure you got the house. Danny could have the scraps, she said.”
“She said that?” Violet asked.
Scott nodded.
“But she didn’t know he’d already tried to put the place on the market. And she didn’t know he’d spent all their money. I was so angry with him. And with her. She knew that you weren’t lying, Mum. She knew all along that he’d raped you, and she still chose him over you for all those years.”
Violet got up suddenly, angrily wiping the tears from her eyes.
“Yeah, well, there you go,” she said, turning away from them all and heading into the kitchen. “You can tell her I don’t want that bloody house. I don’t want her charity, and I don’t want her apologies neither.”
“I knew you’d say that,” Scott said. “But you don’t have any choice now. You’re all she has left.”
Violet stopped in the doorway and turned slowly.
“What did you do, Scott?” she asked.
Scott suddenly broke down.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” he said, barely holding himself together. “I got it into my head that it was Danny who needed to apologise. To you, to Jean, to all of us.”
He stopped, head bent, shoulders shaking as the tears began to flow.
“So you killed him?” Russell asked.
Scott nodded, sniffing loudly. He couldn’t look at any of them.
“I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to scare him. I wanted to remind him of what he’d done. So I dressed like Mum again and confronted him with it. I thought I’d tackle him when he wasn’t expecting it and he couldn’t run away.”
“At the club, between performances?”
“I thought I’d fit in, you know, among all the trannies.”
“Careful…” Russell warned.
“Sorry,” Scott said.
“You stabbed him, Scott,” Joe said, incredulously. “That’s pretty convincing for someone who wasn’t intending to kill.”
“I didn’t stab him. Honest. He fell,” Scott protested. He looked up at Joe, then at Russell, his bloodshot eyes beseeching them to understand. “I started talking to him, but he just freaked out. He was
so drunk. Slurring his words, couldn’t even stand straight.”
It was Joe’s turn to frown.
“But I talked to him just minutes before. He seemed fine.”
“Well, when I got to him, he was falling all over the place. I tried to talk to him, to get him to agree that he’d been in the wrong, but he went for me. Tried to punch me, but he was too drunk. He managed to hit me with the end of his cane.” Scott touched the bruise on his cheek.
“I pushed him back and he stood there a moment, swaying, and then his eyes rolled back in his head, like he was struggling to breath, and I stepped away from him ’cause I thought he was going to puke or something, and he just fell forwards. Flat. Passed out cold. Didn’t even put his hands out to break his fall.”
“But when we found him,” Russell said, confused. “And when the police examined him, he’d been stabbed in the chest.”
“I didn’t stab him. I swear,” Scott said. “In the scuffle, my shoe had come off. When I turned him over, I realised he’d landed square on the heel of it. It had gone straight in between his ribs.”
He mimed the action using the other shoe from the table.
“Well, I panicked. I mean, who would ever believe that? Especially given who he was. Who I am. So I grabbed the shoe and ran. I got out the fire exit, and I dropped it, but I was panicking too much to stop. I jumped in a cab and didn’t look back.”
Russell and Joe looked at each other, frowning. Something wasn’t right here.
“You’re sure he was drunk?” Joe asked.
“Yeah, I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt him. He just fell.”
Joe stood up quickly and Russell could see that the last penny had dropped. Joe looked at Russell, eyes wide with excitement.
“He was fine,” he said. “I talked to him minutes before Scott did. He was fine. But he’d just got a new drink delivered. He said Ron always knew what he liked.”
Russell looked at Joe, realising what he meant, and then at Scott.
“How did you find Danny?” Russell asked. “The first time you went to see him?”
“I followed him,” Scott said. “He went straight to that pub, where the cabaret was. I saw him talking to you.”