Someone to Trust

by Someone to Trust (retail) (epub)

  Rob didn’t answer but started down the stairs. He had just reached the bottom when the front door opened and Mick entered.

  He saw them immediately and dragged his revolver from a pocket. Rob lunged forward, the box still in his arms. Lucy could only think he intended to ram Mick against the door with it. Her uncle’s reactions were swift, but not having the space to bring up his gun and aim at Rob, he caught him a blow on the side of the head with the butt of the gun instead. The younger man sank to his knees, still clutching the box. Mick hit him again and Rob collapsed on to the floor.

  Then it was as if everything was happening in slow motion as Lucy watched her uncle take the box and place it carefully on the torn linoleum. He lifted his head and stared at her. Slowly he brought up the gun. He wouldn’t! she thought, but another voice in her head said, Run! There was only one way to run and that was up. She stumbled up the stairs, recalling there was a lock on her uncle’s bedroom door. She flung herself inside but her hands were shaking so much she could not turn the key. Mick forced the door open and was inside the room, looming over her.

  Something seemed to disintegrate inside her brain. ‘Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!’ she screamed, hammering at him with her fists. ‘You’re evil! Evil! Evil!’ More by luck than intent she knocked the gun from his hand and it went spinning across the floor.

  Mick swore and hit her across the head with his fist. There was a ringing in her ears but still she fought him. He was laughing now, trying to pin her arms to her sides. He lifted her easily and flung her on to the bed. ‘God, you’re a wildcat,’ he said, sounding excited. Then he dropped on the bed beside her. She managed to roll off it and reached for the gun. It was heavy, far too heavy for her to hold with one hand. She prayed like she had never prayed before and the words of the Lord’s Prayer rang in her head… deliver us from evil! For thine is the kingdom… She managed to get her other hand under the barrel and pointed the gun at Mick.

  To see fear and surprise on his face was as good as a plate of spare ribs and fried cabbage. Lucy wanted to say something like, ‘Say your prayers, Uncle Mick!’ but her mouth had gone dry. She had seen many a cowboy kill a baddy on the films. Bang! Bang! It should be easy but it wasn’t. Her hands started to sweat.

  Suddenly Mick laughed. Reaching inside a pocket, he took out cigarettes and matches. ‘Holy Mary, girl! Don’t be pointing it at me like that. It could go off.’ He lit a cigarette.

  Lucy was furious with herself for not having the guts to pull the trigger but still she did not put down the gun.

  He frowned. ‘I hope I’m not going to have to force you to give it up, girl.’

  He reached across the bed towards her. It was the wrong thing for him to do. Her fear and anger escalated and she hit him across the head just as she had seen him hit Rob. Mick fell, his head hanging over the edge of the bed. The cigarette dropped from his fingers and rolled under the bed.

  Cautiously, she reached out to touch him. With a ‘whoosh’ flames leaped up from under the bed. Lucy shot back, clutching her arm, and dropped the gun. There was a strong smell of paraffin and she realised what must have happened. She had never seen a fire take hold so swiftly. Her first instinct was to run, and then she looked down at Mick.

  Unconscious, without that wicked glint in his eyes, he was no longer a monster. For a second she remembered the uncle who had laughed and played with her when she was a child. She went round the bed, thinking to grab him by the feet and drag him off the bed, but already the heat was intense.

  Water! She rushed out of the room, clutching her blistering arm, and went downstairs. Rob was still slumped at the bottom. She would have to move him to get past. She seized hold of his shoulders and tried to shift him, but he was too heavy.

  She shook him. ‘Rob, wake up! Wake up!’ Dear God, she hoped he wasn’t going to die. She shouted louder: ‘Rob, you’ve got to help me!’

  He groaned but didn’t open his eyes and so Lucy climbed over him and ran through the kitchen and into the scullery and struggled back with the water bucket. It was tremendously difficult trying to lift it higher as she stepped over him again. Some of the contents slopped over the rim. He came to with a start, gasping as the water fell on his face, and looked up at her with befuddled dark eyes. She rested the bucket on a stair. ‘The bed’s on fire! Mick’s unconscious! I’ve got to try and save him!’

  Rob was staring at her as if she wasn’t making sense. She decided to try one more time to get him upright. Keeping one hand on the bucket to prevent it from overbalancing and placing her opposite shoulder beneath his armpit, she managed to drag his arm round her neck. She heaved and despite his wobbly knees enabled him to get to his feet. ‘What happened?’ he muttered.

  ‘I’ve just told you,’ she gasped. ‘Can you stand up on your own now?’

  He nodded, leaning against the wall, but didn’t look too good. With a sinking heart Lucy decided he wasn’t going to manage the stairs and, gripping the handle of the bucket with both hands, began to climb the stairs. The smell of smoke and paraffin was overpowering. She could taste it on her tongue and began to cough.

  ‘Lucy, where are you going?’ croaked Rob.

  She was unable to answer as she coughed and coughed in an attempt to rid her mouth of the noxious smoke. Her head began to spin but she hung on to the bucket as it tipped and water drenched her feet. She was seized from behind and, staggering and swaying, kept from falling by the hands that held her elbows with a rigidity that lent her strength.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Rob took the bucket from her and with his arm round her shoulders, forced her out of the house. It was such a relief to be in the open air! Her chest heaved as she struggled for breath.

  ‘You’re going to be OK. Just keep on breathing in, out, in, out. Don’t give up, lovey.’ Rob’s voice was urgent.

  She wanted to drift but did as she was told. Besides, something was worrying her, stopping her from floating away on that nice soft cloud. Where was her mother? She wanted her mam. She should have been here, protecting Lucy. But hadn’t the policeman said he’d protect her? He had let her down! Mick could have killed her. Yet it was Detective Rob Jones who had carried her out of the house.

  ‘I’ll have to leave you a minute,’ he said.

  She could hear shouts, sense panic all around her. Someone mentioned the fire bobbies. Fire! Something horrible had happened. A picture flashed into her mind but she didn’t want to think about it so closed her eyes tightly in an attempt to banish it. Slowly, as she began to breathe more easily, she let herself drift.

  * * *

  Lucy could hear voices. She couldn’t make out what they were saying but that didn’t matter. The pain in her arm was less severe and she was content just to lie there, having lost track of time, with no idea how long she had been in the hospital. She knew her mother had been to see her, remembered her sitting by the bed, holding her hand, tears running down her face. Neither of them had spoken a word. In fact Lucy had not spoken since she had been half-carried out of the house.

  The ward door opened and there was the rustle of starched cotton and the firm tread of regulation shoes which stopped beside her bed. Lucy kept her eyes shut, knowing once they opened whoever it was would demand something from her. A Scottish nurse kept asking for a smile and a hello but that meant making an effort. Lucy breathed in the scent of Devonshire Violets and knew it was prim and proper Sister Taylor.

  ‘Miss Linden, I know you’re awake so there’s no use pretending. It’s out of hours but you’ve a visitor. Maybe you’ll find your tongue to speak to D.C. Jones.’

  Lucy made no sign of having heard but her heart rate accelerated and she listened hard for the sound of his footsteps. The chair creaked next to her bed and her own heartbeat drummed in her ears.

  ‘Hello, Lucy. How are you, love?’

  At the sound of his voice muddled images flashed through her mind: tripping over tramlines, Gran lying dead, strong teeth crunching in
to an apple, a steam lorry and being pushed out of the way. Then there was someone on the floor… a man lying huddled in the lobby, blood making his hair sticky. Something dark hovered on the edge of her consciousness. It swooped in like a raven. Fire! Lucy gasped, almost choking with fear. She coughed and coughed, then managed a scream.

  An incredulous laugh and Rob said, ‘My God! My voice has never had that effect before.’

  A sob broke from her. It had been real, all too real! The fire, and Mick slumped unconscious on that burning bed. She had done that to him. She was a murderess, but bloody hell! He’d deserved it in some ways.

  ‘Hey! There’s no need to cry,’ said Rob. His grey eyes were kind and sympathetic as he placed his hand over her small one lying on the bedcover. ‘I’m not here to midder you. I just wanted to see how you were.’

  Lucy did not know what to say. Had he really just come to see how she was? He was a detective and they detected.

  ‘I hate seeing girls cry. Although our Dilys can turn the tears on like a tap when she wants her own way. Did it when we were kids every time she wanted to escape the blame for something. It always worked because Da was daft with her.’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ said Lucy, scrubbing at her face with a corner of the sheet.

  ‘So it’s rainwater coming from your eyes then?’

  She looked at him and surprisingly he crossed his eyes. A giggle rose like a bubble in her throat.

  He grinned. ‘That’s better. You mustn’t let things get to you.’

  ‘It’s OK for you to say that,’ she protested, pulling the bedcovers up to her chin. ‘You didn’t go through what I’ve been through!’

  He protested. ‘My head was split open! Your uncle could have killed me.’

  ‘He was going to do horrible things to me so I hit him on the head with his gun after I’d knocked it out of his hand,’ Lucy babbled. ‘He’d still be alive if I hadn’t done that.’ Rob stared at her and there was no longer anything remotely funny about him. Lucy’s mouth felt dry. ‘Does that make me a murderess?’ she whispered, the blood like ice in her veins.

  He cleared his throat. ‘They could have you up in court for manslaughter. You could claim it was self-defence. Even so, you’d go to prison.’

  All other sounds in the ward seemed to fade away and they were alone, just the two of them, cut off from the rest of the world. Lucy wondered what it was about Rob that had drawn that confession from her? ‘You’re frightening me,’ she croaked, her eyes fixed on his worried face.

  ‘There’s no need to be. I’m just warning you of the consequences of repeating what you’ve just said to anyone else. I didn’t hear it. Understand, Lucy? I didn’t hear what you said. Everyone’s convinced he was having a nap and died in the fire.’

  ‘Poor Uncle Mick,’ she said raggedly. ‘What turned him into a monster? He used to be such fun. A couple of years ago I thought that when he came home everything would be marvellous. We’d get out of that hole and Mam’d be happy. Instead…’ She stopped and swallowed. Tears ran down her cheeks.

  Rob took her hand and squeezed it. ‘You have to try and forget what happened,’ he said firmly. ‘I know it won’t be easy but at least you won’t be going back to that house. It’s a wreck. So, in a roundabout way, he got you what you wanted.’ Rob released her hand and leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms and forced a smile. ‘I don’t mean to sound callous so let’s change the subject. Anything else you’d like out of life?’

  She rubbed her eyes and after a few moments managed to say, ‘Lots of money and peace of mind.’

  He ignored the latter half of the sentence. ‘Money’s important to you?’

  ‘I like to eat and I’d love to wear clothes like your sister’s. I did manage to save some money once but me and Timmy got hungry.’

  ‘I guess you’re fond of your brother.’

  ‘Of course.’ Her eyes widened. ‘What a question!’

  ‘You’d want to keep him safe. Yourself and your mam as well.’ His words puzzled her.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  He hesitated. ‘Shaun O’Neill. Do you know where he’s hiding?’

  Her smile faded. So that was why he was here. She’d been daft to think he’d be bothered about a kid like her. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘And I don’t want to know either.’

  ‘He went to your house.’

  ‘But I had nothing to do with that! I’m no criminal!’ She realised what she had said and the colour drained from her cheeks. Of course she was! She was responsible for Mick’s death and she wanted to weep again. ‘Go! Please go,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t feel well.’

  Rob sighed, his hands clasped between his knees. ‘Don’t look like that, kid. I don’t want to upset you but I have a job to do. I know rebels like O’Neill and their cause can hold an attraction for families like yours. I can understand love for one’s country but he’s trouble, so if you know anything about him, tell me.’

  ‘Is that an order?’ She felt all strung up. ‘Is that a “tell me or else I’ll throw you in prison”?’

  He scowled at her. ‘No, it bloody isn’t! I just thought if you had a childish fancy for Shaun O’Neill and favour his cause, you should rid yourself of it.’

  ‘I haven’t! He has spots and shifty eyes and is as mean as they come.’

  ‘That’s all you can tell me about him?’

  Lucy shrugged. ‘What else is there to tell? I don’t know where he is.’

  ‘Right.’ Rob looked disappointed as he stood up. When he next spoke his words surprised her. ‘Has your mother told you where she and your brother are living now?’

  Lucy shook her head. She hadn’t given it much thought. She waited for him to tell her but all he said was, ‘I’m sure she’ll enjoy informing you. ’Bye, Lucy. Hope you’re out of hospital soon. My aunt and Dilys wouldn’t mind you calling on them. They think you’ve got guts – so do I. See you.’

  He replaced his cap and she watched him stroll up the ward like he didn’t have a care in the world. Yet they shared a terrible secret and her freedom depended on his keeping his mouth shut. But why should he? He was someone who believed in law and order. A man who upheld the ten commandments. Thou shalt not kill! The thought of Mick caused such a heaviness within her breast it was a struggle to hold back the tears. Her head began to ache.

  She glanced at the chair where Rob had sat and only then did she notice the box of chocolates on the seat. His gift confused her. Why had he done that? And why was he prepared to let her off scotfree? She could only believe that maybe he liked her, just a little. She burrowed down in the bed, wishing he hadn’t come, realising that she wanted much more from him.

  * * *

  ‘Lucy, darlin’! Give us a kiss!’ The strain of the last few weeks showed in Maureen’s face as she clutched her daughter’s hand. ‘Sister said you’d spoken at last. Pity it had to be to a policeman. Questions, questions! But I played dumb and I hope you didn’t tell him too much?’ her mother said brightly. ‘Anyway, it’s all over now. Callum’s out of it in Ireland, but God only knows where that fella O’Neill is – that’s what they want to know. Seems he’s been involved in some protection racket with our Mick. They weren’t after him just because of terrorist activities at all.’

  Lucy wondered why Rob hadn’t told her that but maybe he thought he’d said enough to her. Crazy, she thought, and tried to put Shaun and Rob and Mick out of her mind, but the latter two continued to lurk there on the edge of consciousness. ‘Can I go home, Mam? And where is home these days?’

  Her mother smirked. ‘Now that would be telling and I’m not doing that - not just yet. You’ll just have to wait and see… but I think you’ll be pleased. We all hated that horrible, unhappy, dingy house. I never had any luck from the moment I went to live there. Hopefully our luck’s changed now.’

  Lucy remembered a conversation she’d had once with Mrs Malone in the cinema about luck. She just hoped as a family they’d done with bad luck and from now on things
would only get better.

  * * *

  Lucy linked arms with her mother as they walked through the gates of Stanley Road Hospital and turned in the direction of the Rotunda Theatre. Her legs felt wobbly and her head a bit peculiar. She’d had too much time to think in the gap between Rob’s visit and her mother’s. Even Lucy’s dreams had been haunted by visions of Uncle Mick, screaming at her to rescue him from the flames. Yet in reality he had done no such thing the day he’d died so horribly.

  Even now, outside in the fresh air, Lucy was asking herself whether he had felt anything as the flames had licked his body? She tried to imagine what it must have felt like and it was as if thousands of goosebumps covered her skin.

  ‘You shivered then. Someone walk over your grave?’ asked her mother with a smile. ‘You can’t be cold. It’s a lovely day. Perhaps it’s nerves. You’ve been through such a lot. Maybe you’d like to talk about it?’

  ‘No!’ said Lucy baldly. ‘I want to forget it.’

  ‘That policeman said you were a heroine.’

  ‘Did he?’ She gave her mother a startled, almost horrified, look.

  ‘He said you really tried to save Mick’s life.’ Maureen sighed and the corners of her mouth drooped. ‘I never did like having that paraffin in the house.’

  ‘No,’ murmured Lucy, with an overwhelming urge to tell the truth. That she had tried to save him but only because she was responsible for his being unconscious. She told herself it wouldn’t serve any useful purpose. Her mother would certainly not turn her in to the police, but she would see her with different eyes. Besides, if Lucy told the truth she would have to tell Maureen what Mick had said, and had in his mind to do with her, when he threw her on the bed, and that would upset her mother further. No, it was best to stay silent.

  Lucy had no sooner come to that decision than she began to ponder on whether she should go and confess to a priest – seek absolution and rid herself of her burden of guilt. After all, wasn’t that what priests were for? But she hadn’t been to church for ages and maybe he’d try and persuade her to give herself up to the law. She would have to go over and over it again, telling them what had happened in the bedroom when she had hit Mick. She hardened her heart. No, he had betrayed her trust. Had had to be stopped because otherwise he would just have carried on hitting them all, and he could have killed someone with those explosives. She had done the right thing. Even so she felt depressed, part of her grieving for the man her uncle had once been.