The tears were still as hard to wipe away then as they had been years earlier.
Chapter 8
*
Connor awoke from his daydreams and reminiscing to see that the rain had stopped and the sun had appeared once more, even if it was only for the last few hours of the day. He had been sat in the coffee shop for at least five hours but this was normal for him. In between scheming and planning he would sit and think about what life would have been like if his family had not been put into the dreaded situation all those years ago. He certainly would not be doing what he was doing now and his life would not be dedicated to avenging his mother, father and sister.
One of his biggest questions was would he be living here in Hereford or somewhere else. As he walked across the river Wye bridge to get into town he stopped and watched as canoeists paddled against the steady flow of the water, their paddles creating ripples that spread to the river banks on either side. He remembered his first day back in the town just a few years ago after business was finished in London and he started his job as a porter in the hospital. What made it more poignant for Connor was that it was the first time he had been back to the county since that tragic day 25 years before.
*
October 2006.
“Excuse me could you take this patient down to the x ray department and then bring him back up when he has finished, thank you”
“Yes no problem” replied Connor.
There didn’t seem much wrong with the guy sat in the wheelchair until Connor looked at his ankle. It was dark blue and about three times the size.
“That looks nasty, how did you do it?” asked Connor politely.
The guy looked slightly embarrassed as he mumbled his answer so no one else they passed in the corridor would hear it.
“I fell off a wall last night whilst out having a few drinks. I managed to hobble home but woke up this morning to find this” the guy replied pointing to his leg.
Connor smiled but his mind was on other matters. Pushing the guy into the x ray department Connor turned and headed back to A&E. Even though it was only his second day on the job he knew the hospital very well. The week before he started the job he came here every day to walk the corridors and familiarise himself with the layout, even managing to enter places that should have been out of bounds to him.
Entering the accident and emergency area again he glanced around to see if he could spot the person he was looking for. She should have just started her shift about 15 minutes ago but at the
moment she was nowhere to be seen. There were nurses all around appearing from behind curtains and disappearing through doors.
“Excuse me”
Connor turned around to see the nurse at the reception calling him over to her.
“Hi its Connor isn’t it”
“Yes that’s right”
“Nurse Frost would like a porter to take a patient to ward 2. She should be in room 8”
“Ok no problem” replied Connor smiling at the nurse who seemed to be staring at him, almost flirtatiously.
Connor knocked, then entered the room where in front of him was a patient whose head and half his face was being bandaged by a nurse. She had never met Connor but he knew who she was straight away.
“Hi I’m here to take the patient down to ward 2”
“Yes we will be with you in just a minute”
Connor watched as the nurse carefully finished off the bandaging as the patient lay still.
“You’re Sarah Frost, I’m Connor Rogers it’s nice to meet you”
The nurse stopped what she was doing to look Connor up and down then carried on with the job in hand.
“Hi you must be the Connor Rachel has mentioned. You met her in London”
“Yes that’s right she mentioned you worked here. To think I have only been working here for two days and we have already met” smiled Connor.
“Yes we will have to meet up after work” smiled Sarah Frost as Connor grabbed the handles on the bed and pulled it towards the door.
“Yes definitely” replied Connor as he left the room and made his way along the corridor.
The seeds had been sewn and it was just a matter of being patient now as Connor gathered himself for what he had planned when he finished work that afternoon. He had never been back to the house where he played as a young boy in Much Marcle since being took to France by his Grandparents. It was a twenty five minute drive from Hereford and the nearer he got to it the harder his heart beat inside his chest. The day was cool with grey skies but Connor could feel the sweat making his shirt damp.
As he rounded the corner on the main A road the sight of St Bartholomew’s church tower on his left came into view. He immediately remembered this as the place that inspired him to become a stone mason, something he had yet to achieve, and it looked no different nearly thirty years later. Even
though he had never driven this route before Connor knew he had to turn left at the crossroads before he passed the church then follow the lane for a while until he reached a gate and the long drive on the left. The lane seemed longer and there seemed to be more houses on it but Connor’s breathing quickened as he neared the fields that led to the house. Farmland was the one thing that very rarely changed and he recognised the fence lines, trees and countryside straight away. He now realised he was no more than a few yards away from the gateway and decided to pull in off the road to sort his head out.
The one thing he had not anticipated was what the property would look like after all this time. Many times before he had tried to imagine it but to no avail so he assumed it to be still a burnt out shell, similar to what he had seen on the news footage. After locking the car Connor stood for a while in the lane looking and listening. Zipping up his black leather jacket against the slight breeze he made his way to the entrance to the drive. There was no longer any gate on the entrance and it was overgrown but Connor took a deep breath as he remembered spending many a night waiting here for either his father or his mother to come home. He would ride to this point on his push bike before turning round to peddle back up towards the house as he had done on that fateful night. There used to be a five bar wooden gate that he would open when either of his parents would flash their headlights at him so they could drive straight in. Here they would wait until he had shut the gate and climbed in to the vehicle.
The drive went slightly uphill and round a slight bend and it was when you rounded the bend that the house would come into view. With thick overgrowth on his left and open fields on his right Connor approached the house.
Nothing else in the world mattered at that point as Connor’s emotions ran amuck. The feeling of not wanting to see the house, or what was left of it if indeed it was still a shell, consumed him. It all seemed so familiar and yet he was rooted to the spot, his heart yearning to feel the deep sorrow but trying to fight away the raw pain, a conflict he was perhaps not expecting. As strong as he thought he would be when this day came nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him as the house came into view. Amongst the overgrown gardens and visible foundations, charred brickwork and stone could be seen. Parts of the stone fireplace could be seen caked in soot having survived the ferociousness of the flames. The house was just a memory but the grounds surrounding it remained much the same just worse for wear and needing care and attention.
“Oh dear God I miss you all so much” cried Connor as he placed his hands in front of his mouth and let himself go.
A few years ago and he would not have been able to stem the flow of emotion but now as he stood here surveying the scene before him it lasted only until the thoughts of righting the wrongs became more prominent in his mind. The odd noise from farm machinery away in the distance could be heard but other than that his breathing and throbbing temple was the only thing there with him in the grounds.
The most recent image he had seen of the house was whilst watching the recordings of the news footage at his Grandparent’s house in France and he was right to as
sume it would look the same. It was still smouldering as the helicopters flew over and the reporter stood over in the field to his right.
Now it looked like nothing more than waste ground. Although he had been pestered many times by various people wanting to buy the land Connor had refused to even negotiate with them, having no intention to sell anything to do with his family. With his mind filled with images and memories he walked around the entire gardens and instantly recognised the trees he used to climb that were still there on the other side of the fence in the field next door.
Feeling stronger he approached the foundations of the house and tried to visualise the layout of what it used to look like. It seemed like only yesterday he was stood in the kitchen and any minute now his mother would enter and tell him to sit at the table and eat his dinner or take his football outside.
“Quick there’s Connor let’s get him” his sister would shout at him, giving him little time to escape from her and her friends.
He walked through what he remembered being the kitchen to where he first saw Molly lay there covered in blood, her back open and bleeding from the shotgun wound. His beloved sister who was so full of energy and always smiling now lay quiet and still, her blonde curly hair now matted and stained red. Even though they were not there he could still visualise the staircase leading to the first floor. Brushing aside the large weeds that had grown, Connor then entered what would have been the playroom. This is where he had made his escape through the cat flap and out into the garden. Some of the lower parts of the walls that divided the house were still there and Connor instantly recognised the downstairs toilet where he had found his mother lying behind the door in a pool of blood, her face filled with pain and anguish.
The feeling of not being able to swallow returned as he knelt down as though his mother was still lay there and stroked the ground in anguish. As hard as he tried he could not stop his face screwing up in preparation for the flood of tears that he knew was upon him. Connor let the loud sobbing and sniffing back of emotion, out unashamedly as he held his head in his hand and stroked the charred floor with the other. Becoming too much for him Connor stood up and turned away to focus on the green fields and trees that still seemed so comforting to him.
After a few minutes of gathering himself Connor took a few deep breaths and glanced around the area where he was stood. It soon became apparent that he was stood on the spot where his father had been just about visible through the smoke in the lounge area. Connor had watched as he held the shotgun under his chin and pulled the trigger before falling back out of sight. He remembered his fathers’ eyes staring insanely, making him unrecognisable to his son who was stood watching everything from the garden. Connor shook his head and closed his eyes to try and remove the image from his head but it was no good. It was embedded in there and time had not faded the vision and eased the pain.
Deciding enough was enough for today Connor turned to leave and head back down the driveway. Standing on what would have been the front door and porch area Connor turned and stood for a few seconds. Kissing his hand he blew it in the direction of where his family drew their last breath.
“I miss you and love you all so much. See you again soon”
Connor turned the car around and headed back towards Hereford feeling more determined than ever to execute his plan. The loss he had suffered still felt like a vacuum on his heart but he now felt refuelled and rejuvenated.
As he pulled onto the main road that would take him back to Hereford his phone starting ringing. “Private Number” flashed up on the screen which annoyed him because it always ended up being someone on the other end selling something, normally an extortionate loan. He resisted the urge to cancel the call and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello this is Connor Rogers speaking!”
“Connor Rogers......oh I am sorry I must have the wrong number......I was trying to get hold of Connor Chevaal”
Connor’s attention was drawn from the road to the phone as his hairs stood up on the back of his neck and his expression grew darker. He paused slightly before answering the voice on the other end which was strangely a voice with no accent. His mind searched desperately to recognise the male voice that sounded monotone and emotionless.
“No I’m sorry this is Connor Rogers you must have the wrong number”
“Oh I don’t think so. You see I know who you are and I know what you are doing and I’m afraid I can’t let it happen. Have I got your attention now Connor”
Connor pulled his old Fiat Punto over onto the side of the road and silently racked his brain to try and figure out whose voice it was on the other end but it was no good.
“Well now you are confident you know who I am maybe you should tell me who you are”
There was silence as Connor glanced at the screen to see the call had been disconnected. For a while he sat there contemplating what had just happened and if it was genuine, even though he knew no one knew anything about his intentions or his real name. Questions filled his curious mind as to how the person had managed to obtain his number, he normally only gave it out to people he knew a lot about as he trusted no one.
Anger grew and his heart sank at the thought of somebody interfering with what he had been preparing and dedicating his life to. One thing was for certain, Connor was not going to let a threat from some anonymous person on the end of the phone stop him. It would just mean he would now have to be more cautious than before and be prepared to eliminate them if they were true to their word and would try and stop him. This is something he wanted to avoid at all costs but he also knew it was something he had always been prepared for.
Chapter 9
*
The canoeist’s had passed under the bridge and were now out of sight as Connor checked his phone to see how long he had been stood there. It had been half an hour which meant he was half an hour late to meet Sarah, Hugh and the rest of the group. He had agreed to meet them for drinks but was now wishing he had cancelled on them, his mood had changed significantly since leaving the coffee shop earlier.
As he strolled along the cobbled street away from the Cathedral his mind wondered back to the past once more to a few years earlier where his caring attitude nearly blew his identity and exposed himself to the group. Connor had always taken care to portray himself as a caring and compassionate person, always there for anyone, so as to not arouse suspicion. Deep down he was, but because of the path he was now on meant that inside he was unemotional and dispassionate towards almost everyone. Any sign of aggression from Connor would betray the image he had given himself and it was this that nearly undone him.
*
May 2009.
“What are you having to drink Connor?”
“A lime and soda for me please”
“Really!”
“Yes I’m driving”
Hugh headed towards the bar whilst the rest of the table chatted.
It was Sarah’s birthday and Hugh was treating her and flashing his money at the same time because he had booked a table at a country pub just on the outskirts of town and proclaimed that the meal was all on him, drinks, food, everything. Rachel loved it, sipping back the gin and tonics in an uncontrollable manner like it was her who had put her credit card behind the bar.
“So how is the porter job going then Connor?” asked Rachel, almost with a smirk on her face.
“It’s great because it’s shift work and it gives me a lot of time off” replied Connor.
“How is your job going Rachel? Does Doctor Carr still practice at your surgery?”
Connor looked Rachel straight in the eyes as he said this, knowing she would squirm in her chair.
“Yes I think so” replied Rachel pretending to fumble around in her handbag.
Keith stopped rolling his cigarette and looked at Rachel confused.
“What do you mean you are not sure? You’re a receptionist and you don’t know who you work for”
“No of course I know it’s just for a split seco
nd I forgot”
Keith just raised his eyebrows and shook his head whilst Rachel stared at Connor questioning his motives for mentioning Dr Carr’s name.
Eventually the meals were ordered after James arrived late and idle chit chat was made around the table. It was then that adult like screaming and shouting could be heard coming from one of the tables across the other side of the room. This drew attention from other tables as well as Connor’s and on looking up Connor could see it was what seemed to be a mentally disabled adult of about twenty years old.
“I can’t believe they have brought him in here” mumbled Hugh.
“I know I hope he is not going to be doing that all night” whispered Rachel.
Connor struggled to contain his emotion at both their comments. He was livid that anyone could say such things and turned his head to stare at them both.
LUCIFER'S ANGEL Page 7