by Thorne Moore
‘And we moved,’ said Ruth. ‘To the other end of town. Didn’t make any difference. We could have moved to another country and it would have followed us. Know what it’s like, being the daughter of a man everyone calls a pervert?’
‘Know what it’s like being…’ They were all saying it. Except me. I didn’t need to say it.
Barbara coughed, bracing herself to address me again. ‘So. You remembered the truth, and you went back to confront Serena?’
‘No one saw me arrive or leave. I didn’t know what was happening in New York. I didn’t realise that anyone who was home would be glued to the TV. Watching another edifice come down.’
‘And you killed her.’ Angela struggled to her feet and came at me, to stare into my eyes. ‘Good. I’m glad.’
‘Don’t worry,’ blurted Denise. ‘No one blames you. She deserved to die, that’s the truth.’
‘I don’t know.’ Barbara looked uncertain, possibly for the first time in her life. She was a lawyer, after all. She didn’t inhabit the world of wild justice. ‘I understand that, in the heat of the moment—’
‘No!’ Ruth leaped up. ‘Don’t you start saying the police should be told about this. I’m glad she’s dead. We’re all glad. I wish I’d done it myself. I wish I’d driven the knife in. You’re not going to the police, you hear!’
Barbara gaped. She was the one who made decisions and told the others what to do. But three women were facing her down. She opened her mouth, then shut it again.
‘We’ll say nothing,’ said Ruth.
Barbara gave the smallest nod, then coughed. ‘After all, we don’t know what happened.’ She glanced at me. ‘You haven’t told us, have you?’
‘No…’ I hadn’t told anyone what had happened in Thorpeshall.
— 24 —
For long seconds, as I stood facing Serena on her doorstep, she didn’t stir.
‘Why?’ I repeated.
At last, with an effort, she composed herself. ‘Why what, my dear?’ She stepped back, holding the door open. ‘Goodness me, Karen, you’ve taken me quite by surprise. Turning up on my doorstep twice in one day, when I haven’t seen you for more than thirty years. But come in. Come in.’
She led me back into the living room, stooping to switch off the TV. Fire and mayhem vanished from the screen. Some violent thriller, I thought, finding her choice significant. The Serena that I’d always thought I’d known would have been watching a romance, a classic, or Shakespeare perhaps. But instead she chose violence.
‘Sit down then.’ She led me solicitously to the sofa, where I’d sat before. Putting me back where I’d been. She leaned over me, raising her glass and setting the slice of lemon bobbing. ‘Can I offer you a drink? I suppose I shouldn’t, if you’re driving. And I expect you’re on medication which mustn’t be mixed with alcohol. Are you? Can I get you something else? An orange squash perhaps?’
Her concern sounded so genuine, I began to wonder, just began to wonder, if I had been inventing memories after all.
It must surely have been the prism of medication I’d been looking through, a few hours earlier, when I’d landed on her doorstep and convinced myself she’d barely changed from the lovely girl I’d known at school. I looked at her afresh. She wasn’t the same at all. She looked middle-aged and dried out, but denying it as most mortal women do. Of course she looked a thousand times better that I did, but age was one thing she hadn’t quite managed to manipulate. She looked tired.
‘Tell me why,’ I repeated. ‘Why did you do it?’
‘Do what, darling? I don’t think I did anything, did I? I was going to offer you help, but you rushed off before I had a chance.’
There was nothing in her voice to suggest she was wilfully misunderstanding me. She sounded gentle and sincere. I must have been fantasising.
I looked into her eyes and I believe I was on the verge of apologising.
Then I saw my bear, swinging by the neck, Serena watching, head on one side, smiling…the same smile.
‘You know what you did. You did everything. Everything and yet nothing, because you get other people to do it, whatever it is. That was what you wanted from me. You tried to make me kill Janice.’
‘My dear.’ Her face was distorted with sympathetic distress and then, in front of my eyes, it all melted away. She stepped away, drew a deep breath, and then laughed. It was an unpleasant laugh, full of weary contempt. ‘You know what? Shall we abandon this charade? To be absolutely honest, I’m tired of it. All of it, the whole bloody game. It’s no fun any more and I really don’t know that I can be bothered to keep playing.’
She took a quick swig of her gin, shut her eyes briefly, and then considered me, head on one side, just as she had studied my bear. Just as she had studied Janice, dead in the stream.
‘You see, games are only fun if you win. And keep winning. I’ve always liked winning this one, this push and pull puppet game. I’ve always been so good at it. I could be the Olympic champion. But then I come up against you. Always you. Karen Rothwell, messing things up, keeping me from the podium. You’re a weird one. What is it with you? Why is it that you’re the one person who won’t ever do as you’re told? I think you have to be the most obstinate person I’ve ever had anything to do with. Why can’t you just play the game?’
‘Because it’s not a game.’
‘Oh rubbish. The whole of bloody life’s a game – and I really don’t like losing. Why on earth did I ever let you into my life? You were a nobody. Who were you to mess things up? You let me down, and here you are, thirty years later, doing it again. What’s so special about you, Karen Rothwell? Is it some mysterious twist of your brain? Something an autopsy might reveal?’
‘If I’d killed myself, like you wanted, you might have had a chance to find out. But I didn’t.’
‘No you didn’t, did you? And God knows why you didn’t. What’s so wonderful about your life that you insist on clinging on? Has it really been worth the effort? Most of it spent in a straightjacket, from what I hear.’
She was attempting to rile me. I wasn’t sure of her purpose, but she must have had one. I knew that Serena never did or said anything without it having a hidden purpose. She was trying to prompt me to something – but what did it matter? I wasn’t listening to her complaints. I just wanted an explanation. ‘Why did you do it?’
She walked to the French windows, and looked out across the empty lawns, sipping her gin. ‘Why?’ She mused on the question, then turned back, with a triumphant smile. ‘Because I could. Because I can.’
‘That’s all you can say?’
‘What more do you want? It’s the only reason I do anything. Because I can. What makes you do anything? Being a madwoman, I’d have thought it might be voices in your head, but that wouldn’t be the case with you, would it, Karen, because you won’t do what voices tell you.’
‘I’m not the only madwoman in this room.’
‘Ah. You think I’m mad. A psychopath, maybe? Or sociopath. I’m never quite sure of the distinction, but I’m sure you can explain it to me. You must be an expert in psychiatrist jargon. What labels do they use for you?’
‘Lots. Anything to explain why I behave the way I behave and do the things I do. Things I sometimes don’t know I’m doing. But it seems you always know what you’re doing, Serena.’
‘Mm. So what is it, exactly, that you think I do?’
‘You twist people round, till they’re tied in knots. You manipulate them. You get them to do vile things they’ll regret for the rest of their lives. And you sit back, all innocent, and laugh.’
‘Oh, please. You make me sound like a monster. I may have had unfortunate moments, but mostly what I do isn’t horrible at all. If I can persuade and prompt others, it’s usually for their benefit, not mine. I provide motivational courses, you know. Get people to face their darkest fears and overcome their sense of inadequacy. Well, after all, if you have a gift, why not milk it? One has to make money somehow.’
‘
You seriously call it a gift?’
‘Oh yes.’ She sat herself down on a sofa, one arm ranged along the back, ankles crossed, quite relaxed. ‘Like perfect pitch. I discovered it when I was about – what was I? Four, I think. I persuaded my cousin Jimmy that he could fly. I had a magic powder. Talc. He believed me. Flew from the bannisters. Broke his arm. I remember wondering why on earth he believed me, and then realising that it had been easy to make him believe it, because he wanted to fly. Offer people what they want and they become totally gullible. It’s simple.
‘Getting people to do something they didn’t want to do – that’s much more of a challenge, but I cracked that too, eventually. What I found, you see, is that it pays dividends to be a sweet little angel. I watched kids all around me having tantrums, sulking, screaming if they didn’t get their own way, and occasionally it worked, but not very often. Parents were made of sterner stuff in those days. Anyway, it seemed a lot of effort for such an uncertain result. Where’s the profit in screaming your head off if you just finish up with a smack for your troubles? It was so much easier to smile and say pretty please, and then, if they said no, just look sad but resigned. Sweet and loveable. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they’d cave in in seconds. One little tear spilt in sorrowful acceptance buys far more than a gallon spilt in raging anger.’
‘“Two ginger nuts for your infant piety.”’
‘Quite so.’ She laughed. ‘A fan of Jane Eyre, I see. You would be. Taking on all the Reverend Brocklehursts in this world, with your obstinate little fists flailing. Yes, I’ve always preferred to be the pious little angel and get double the rewards. It’s so incredibly easy to wrap adults round your finger if you understand the game. And other kids too. That was the real eye-opener.’ She gazed into her glass. ‘The Dawson boy. He was the one who showed me how easy it was to get people to do things, even when they didn’t want to. Ian Dawson, at infants’ school. Do you remember?’
I remembered the name, but not the boy. I shook my head.
‘No, well, he wasn’t there long. Lived on Foxton Road, just along from Rowlands Avenue. Our parents though we should play together. Nice children from the right sort of homes. He was so tiresome. Like an obedient puppy, following me around. I was tossing a sun hat and it got stuck up in an apple tree. I really liked that hat and Ian was at hand, so I begged him to get it back for me. He wasn’t what you’d call an athletic boy, but he tried to climb the tree for me. And it turned out he really didn’t like heights. I mean, really didn’t. He was so scared he started crying. Stuck there on a branch and sobbing in fright, saying he daren’t go any further. So I just smiled sadly, and said it was all right, I understood, even though I really, really loved that hat. So he crawled on. What a prat. He was crying, but he kept crawling. I stood there, looking sad, waiting to see just how far along he’d go.’
She shrugged. ‘The branch broke and he landed on his head. He never went back to school. Some sort of brain damage, I think.’ She stirred the drink with her lemon slice, then drew it out and licked it. ‘I suppose you think that was wicked.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘I couldn’t have been more than six. Can a child of six be wicked? We aren’t born with precise concepts of right and wrong. We learn that there are things we can get away with and things we can’t, that’s all. We push boundaries as we explore the possibilities. I didn’t know that he’d go on climbing, just because I looked sad. I didn’t intend him to fall. But it happened, and I learned. Extend your wings, and if people think they’re angel wings, you can keep flapping forever.’
‘I really did think you were an angel.’
‘Don’t feel bad. Everyone did. All the teachers adored me. It was almost embarrassing at times – but ultimately worth it. I was such a good child. I never understood this need most children have – rebellion for its own sake. Much more comfortable to be worshipped. To have a harem of willing slaves, knowing that just a smile, a look, an oblique word will twitch their strings and have them hopping around like bunnies.’
‘Why did you choose me?’
‘Oh God, why indeed? Karen Rothwell. I couldn’t have chosen worse, could I? And in any other circumstances, I wouldn’t have chosen you. You were always a spectacularly insignificant nonentity. Apart from an ability to draw horses with knees, I don’t think you ever exhibited any trait that could possibly be of interest to anyone.’
‘So why did you pick me?’
She looked surprised that she had to explain. No, not surprised. Weary. Bored. ‘Because you were Janice Dexter’s friend, of course. Her only friend, as far as I could see. Other kids had more sense than to go anywhere near her. But there you were, sticking by her, so I decided to prise you away.’
‘But why? Why pick on Janice? What had she ever done to you?’
‘She attacked me.’
‘What? Janice? That’s a lie. She’d never hurt anyone. She hadn’t a violent bone in her body.’
‘I mean, she confronted me. She didn’t hit me or anything. God forbid, or I’d have had to disinfect. That revolting brother of hers, Kenneth – he’d knocked me down. It hurt. No one had ever hurt me before. It was unspeakable. He was caned for it, I’m glad to say. Quite right too. You have to have discipline in schools, or thugs like him could go around punching and kicking anyone they liked.’
‘He didn’t punch or kick you. It was an accident. I remember it. He wasn’t looking where he was going and he just ran into you.’
‘That’s what Janice said. Standing there in front of me, like she’d suddenly crawled out of the slime and grown a backbone. She challenged me. Saying it was my fault her brother was caned, because I should have told Mr. Cutler it was an accident and I was mean and she hated me.’ Serena was whining, contemptuously. ‘Poor little Kenneth. I ask you, was there ever a day when he didn’t deserve to be caned? He was a foul beast. They all were, the Dexters. The filth at the bottom of the Neanderthal swill bucket. The world would be better off cleansed of the lot of them. I expect Kenneth finished up in prison with the rest.’
Cpl. Kenneth Dexter. ‘No he didn’t.’
‘No? Well, if you ask me, it’s a pity they did away with hanging.’ Serena dismissed my contradiction. ‘It would have been the kindest way to dispose of all of them. Except that none of them were adventurous enough to do anything worth capital punishment. They just needed culling. And I helped.’
‘Janice objected to her brother being unjustly punished, she said a few words because she was upset, and for that you decided she had to die?’
Serena stared at me, lost in her own thoughts. Then she laughed. ‘Oh, good God, no. Or then again, perhaps, yes. Depends on whether you really want to think of me as a psychopath, with an insatiable urge to kill people. Which, on this particular day, as it happens, is rather ironic. The insatiable urge to kill. Very much alive and well in this world today. There are truly deranged and obsessional killers out there, Karen. Perhaps they’re over our heads right now, as we talk, waiting to consume us in hellfire.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘No, you don’t, do you. Mass murder, that’s what. You can’t equate me with such people. I don’t go round lusting for blood. So no, I didn’t exactly intend that Janice should die. Not at first. I just wanted to see if I could take away her only friend.’
I stared at her, speechless. Angel and devil like two sides of the same coin. What I found it harder to come to terms with was her sheer pettiness. It wasn’t monstrous, it was pathetic.
She sighed heavily, frowning at me. ‘I suppose you were simply so cussed that you had to choose the one girl no one else wanted to be friends with. I should have figured that out, watching you together. You were bound to be a perpetual disappointment to me.’
‘I’m glad of that, at least.’
‘I was deceived, you see, because you came running so eagerly when I crooked my little finger. I thought you’d snap into line, like everyone else, but you just would n
ot turn your back on her. You were supposed to become best buddies with Ruth, instead. How difficult was that? Two nobodies – you’d have made a perfect match. But no, you had to keep running off with Janice bloody Dexter. So I came up with the Ouija Board for our little Christmas get-together.’
‘Of course. It was you.’
‘I nearly had you thinking it was Barbara, didn’t I?’
I ignored her crowing. ‘You as good as told me to kill Janice.’
She laughed. ‘Hell, I didn’t plan on you going through with it. Either of you. I just wanted you to be so scared of her, you’d never go near her again.’
‘Just because you wanted Janice to have no friends.’
‘Put like that, it does seem rather small-minded, doesn’t it? I plead guilty. I was eleven. Children are often small-minded at that age. I wasn’t always petty, though. Admit it, usually I was quite nice. If you’d just walked away from Janice, as I was asking, I’d have been nice again. I might even have forgiven her. See what happens when you don’t do what you’re told?’
‘You’re evil.’
‘Rubbish. I was merely a little girl with a child’s amoral curiosity. I wanted to see what would happen. And, I suppose, in my own way, I had obstinacy to match yours. The more you resisted me, the more I just had to bring you to heel. Even when that spirit message had you wetting yourself with fear, still you went back to Janice. Hopeless. I had to do something, or I’d have lost the game.
‘Even on that last day, when I saw you both, I wasn’t thinking actual murder. I was just going to whisper in your ear, that’s all. I could come up with any number of disgusting stories about the Dexters. But then…’ She shrugged. ‘Ah then, you headed for Sawyer’s Lane. I ask you, a dark lane in a gloomy wood. Wouldn’t anyone think of murder? It had me scared witless, and I was supposed to be the one doing the scaring.’