The 13th Destiny_Heaven's Deadliest Sign

by Roger David Francis

She patted his arm. “Go and sit down I’ll put the kettle on, make you a nice cup of tea.” Her stomach rolled and she felt feverish.

  Joe opened the kitchen door and walked into the living room and Abby’s hand hovered over the kettle. Her heart was beating too hard and she felt sick waiting for Joe to shout in panic when he saw his mother lying in a pool of blood.

  Nothing happened.

  Abby realised she’d been holding her breath and it came out in a straggling gasp. He couldn’t not have seen Vera, she was sprawled out in the middle of the room next to the wonky coffee table, why wasn’t he yelling in shock and disbelief?

  Slowly she edged to the open door and peered around it. Joe was sitting on the settee with the open newspaper; there was no sign of Vera. The coffee table had been straightened and Abby couldn’t see any blood on the carpet.

  She tried to imagine what might have happened. Had Vera stood up, put the table straight and in a daze gone to bed? But that seemed unlikely, it was far more probable that her mother-in-law would have barged into the kitchen shouting abuse at her for allowing her to fall out of her chair. Unless, the thought came to her as she stood trembling, Vera hadn’t wanted her daughter-in-law to know she’d fallen over and had quietly slipped upstairs to the bathroom. But her mouth had slipped sideways, she was sure. Abby tried to think. Maybe she’d got it wrong, panicked and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Vera’s fallen dentures could have pushed her lips downwards. Abby almost groaned out loud. Dear God, the miserable old bag was still alive; hiding somewhere upstairs, she’d been torturing herself for nothing.

  Carefully she stirred sweeteners into two mugs of tea and took them through, placing them on the table.

  “Dinner won’t be long,” she told Joe. At least her voice was steady. She noticed the television had been turned off but she couldn’t be sure if Vera had done it or Joe. Everything seemed so normal. “Shall I call your mum, let her know?”

  Joe rustled the newspaper and looked up at her. “What are you talking about Abby? Why would you say such a thing?”

  Something in his eyes scared her. He looked defeated as if he couldn’t deal with the situation.

  “I just thought I ought to call Vera, tell her dinner’s ready.” Abby was beginning to feel frightened, something about Joe’s expression was scaring her.

  He stood up. “Come here, love,” he said. Enfolded in his huge arms Abby felt herself relaxing. He stroked her hair, murmuring, “I know mum’s death was a shock but she’s been gone three months now, it’s time to put her to rest.” He tilted her face up to him and lightly kissed her nose, “You’ve got to stop blaming yourself, she had a stroke, there was nothing you could do, you were in the kitchen, you couldn’t have known. I know it’s sad but there is a bright side you know, the house belongs to us now, that’s what she would have wanted.” He sighed, “There are no bad ghosts, just good memories.”

  Three months? Abby couldn’t comprehend the thought. She stared in Joe’s face trying to see if he was joking but he gazed back at her with sad thoughtful eyes.

  Thirty minutes ago she’d had a conversation with her mother-in-law and now Joe was telling her Vera had been dead for three months. Why hadn’t she been told? She struggled out of his arms. “Why can’t I remember?” she whispered.

  “Shock,” Joe told her, “I know how close you were.”

  No, Abby thought, we were never close, I couldn’t stand the woman. I let her die. I could have saved her, all I had to do was make one phone call but I didn’t. I’d just found out she was leaving all her money and possessions to a cat’s home to spite me so I did what I had to do and left her to die, it was all she deserved.

  Tears of self pity swam in her eyes. My dearest wish, she thought, to own my own home, just me and Joe, came true three months ago and I’ve only just found out.

  Suddenly Abby felt relieved; it seemed she’d already lived through the scenario of finding Vera dead, it was over. The twenty pound deal she’d made with Shandra had forced her to face up to it. Thank God for Joe, she thought, but he was wrong about one thing, there were bad ghosts, she should know.

  Chapter 5

  Bert Doncaster stared at Beth with rheumy eyes. He was leaning over the dividing fence between their two back gardens. His mouth worked for a few moments and then he spat out a wad of chewed up tobacco. “You want me to hand over twenty pounds of my pension money for a silly game?” He scratched his head leaving faint red marks on his scalp.

  “It’s not a game, Bert,” Beth tried to explain. She could hardly believe she was embarrassing herself by asking the old man, but Shandra had frightened her, her veiled threats felt like a warning. Beth was beginning to think the woman might live close by, she could even be one of her neighbours, spying on her. Beth had lived in the same house for several years but apart from a nodding acquaintance as she hurried passed them she hardly knew any of her neighbours.

  What if she’d inadvertently upset one of them and they were getting their own back? She tried to think. There was Mrs Gladstone three doors down who’d complained about her leaving her bin out on the pavement too long and then Mrs Robinson at the top of the road whom she’d had a run in about the woman’s dog fouling her front garden. Could either of these two women be tormenting her? It seemed so unlikely but Beth couldn’t rule it out. Both were elderly and it wasn’t difficult to disguise your voice on the phone. Like everyone else she’d watched neighbours from hell on the television and knew how quickly a few ill chosen words could escalate into petty revenge and violence. She shrugged the thought away, it was just too silly.

  Bert was an odd job man. Long retired, Beth thought he was in his eighties, maybe even his nineties yet he still managed a few simple jobs for his neighbours like weeding and a bit of painting. Everyone overpaid him out of guilt, nobody wanted to see an old aged pensioner struggling, and Beth suspected he made a decent addition to his pension for showing willing. She didn’t blame him, life was tough and if he’d found a way to make a bit of money on the side then good luck to him. She was honest enough to admit to herself it was a damn sight more honourable than what she was doing.

  They’d always got on well but Beth thought she might be putting their friendship to the test right now. But she couldn’t feel too sorry for him, she decided, only last week he’d had a fifty inch television installed in his living room. He just loved to play the ‘I’m only an old aged pensioner’ card. But his birthday was in early March and that would make him a Pisces, another one to cross off her list.

  “Go on, Bert,” Beth pushed, “It’s just a bit of fun.” She was getting a little tired of hearing those words coming out of her mouth like a mantra but she was only repeating what Shandra had said and for some reason the friendly jokey words seemed to put people at ease.

  “Trouble is, lass,” Bert said reflectively, “There’s not much an old codger like me wants anymore.”

  “There must be something.” Beth persisted.

  An odd look crossed Bert’s face and he nodded slowly. “Maybe there is.” He nodded. “Why not?” He rifled through his trouser pocket, pulled out a wad of about five hundred pounds and peeled off two ten pound notes. He handed them over the fence to her and she gave him the piece of paper with Shandra’s number on.

  “So you reckon I’ll get what I wish for?” Bert’s voice held a note of incredulity.

  “It worked for me, Bert,” Beth told him. Don’t you go changing your mind now, she thought, and slipped his twenty pounds into the pocket of her jeans. Bert raised his eyebrows slightly.

  “I might give it a go.” He said.

  A swirling rush of panic pushed against Beth’s chest. “You have to do it today, Bert, those are the rules.” Hadn’t she made that clear?

  “Okay, don’t look so worried, anyone would think it was life and death.” Bert chuckled.

  Beth wanted to tell him it probably was but of course she wouldn’t, it would be like asking someone for twenty pounds to buy the nails to put in their own co
ffin. Beth frowned. Why was she thinking like that and why did she have this sickening, scared feeling inside her as if she was doing something wrong?

  Because you are, the vile little voice inside her head told her gleefully. Nothing good will come from what you’re doing, why don’t you stop now before it’s too late?

  “I can’t...” She stopped, realising she’d spoken out loud, her voice faltering, “I can’t thank you enough, Bert,” she finished lamely.

  It was just after eleven o’clock and Beth hadn’t heard any more from Fiona. She’d been tempted to wake Jason up and order him to go to Fiona’s house to find out what was going on but it seemed prudent to wait. There’d been no flashing police lights and sirens so perhaps Liam had returned. Surely Fiona knew teenage boys got up to all sorts of stuff, it was hard to know why she was so panicked after only a few hours. Fiona seriously needed to relax, though that was probably more difficult than it sounded with her husband Rod watching her every move.

  Beth dismissed Fiona, she had her own problems. She’d already managed to procure three people for Shandra, four with herself, only eight more to go. Not so much a mountain, more a molehill. She could do it.

  A part of her was surprised how willing people were to take a chance, she wasn’t sure she would part with twenty pounds on someone’s say so. But then she realised that wasn’t actually true, she would because like everyone else she believed in opportunity, fate, that something good was waiting for her if she had enough courage to embrace it. There was also the fear factor, she was being offered an opportunity that if she didn’t grab with both hands she would regret it. A bit like the post code lottery; imagine being the only poor sod in the street who wasn’t waving a huge cheque around?

  Maybe she was wrong to be suspicious. Nothing bad has happened so far, Beth reflected, she shouldn’t jump to conclusions. She couldn’t be held responsible for what people wished for after all. Her own desire had been simple, not much could go wrong with a piddling five hundred pound win on the scratch cards and she hadn’t parted with any money, had she? Shandra had given her the wish for nothing.

  That’s not true, is it? The little voice in the back of her head was back, disagreeing. It wasn’t for nothing, was it? You have to persuade eleven people to join in the game without knowing the consequences and if it goes wrong then it’s down to you.

  “It won’t go wrong,” Beth said aloud, “It’s just a bit of fun.”

  A shadow passed her front window and her eyes widened as fists rapped on her door. Perhaps she shouldn’t answer it, it could be someone selling dishcloths and tea towels for ten times what they were worth.

  Or it could be Fiona.

  The door banged again and Beth went into the hall. Jason was coming down the stairs wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. He was bleary eyed and stumbled down the last two steps. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” He grumbled as he headed into the kitchen.

  Beth pulled the door open and a small rotund man stood jiggling from one foot to the other in front of her. His thin shoulder length hair was brown streaked with grey and his eyes were round and glassy, like two grey split peas. One of them seemed to have a life of its own as it wandered around. Beth recognised him instantly.

  “Is my lad here?”

  Beth took a step back. He’d spoken through broken front teeth and his breath smelt appalling. He looked even more unappealing than when she’d first met him. Rod, she thought, Fiona’s husband, no wonder she wanted rid of him.

  “No,” she answered abruptly and started to close the door. He put his foot in the gap.

  “He went camping over Redwood forest last night and he hasn’t come home. Not phoned either.”

  Beth felt confused. “Fiona’s already been to see me, I told her I hadn’t seen him.”

  “She never said.” For a moment Rod’s face turned an ugly shade of red. “Stupid woman,” he growled, “sitting in the kitchen expecting me to do all the running around while she dabs her eyes with a handkerchief as if it’s my effing fault the little shit has run off. He does what he bloody well likes, wait till I get my hands on him. Bloody camping in the wild, he’s out of control.”

  “I thought he was camping in your back garden,” Beth said.

  The man’s eyebrows shot up, “Why would he do that? He’d not a little kid. Your lad was supposed to go with him but he let him down so he went on his own.” He looked more angry than concerned. “Where is he?”

  Beth shook her head. “Really, I don’t know. “Maybe he changed his mind. The tent’s still in the garden,” she said.

  “How the hell would you know that?”

  “Fiona told me.”

  Rod stared at her. “Why would she do that?”

  “She was worried about him, the same as you are.” Beth wasn’t sure why she was being nice to him, he was an awful man, but the parent side of her had kicked in now and she was concerned something had happened to Liam.

  Rod scowled.“Since you came to our house yesterday Fi’s been acting strangely. What did you say to her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy.”

  Rod pushed his head forward, “Listen lady, keep your boy away from mine, he’s a bad influence. It was his idea to go camping; winding Liam up, now my lad’s disappeared.” He turned abruptly and marched up her garden path without looking back.

  “Mum? What’s happened?”

  Beth stared at the plate Jason was holding with half a loaf of toasted bread on and in his other hand two mugs of coffee. “Liam’s in your room, isn’t he?”

  “So?”

  “Dear God, Jason, his mum’s going out of her mind with worry. His dad’s just practically accused me of kidnapping him and now I find out he’s been here all along.” Beth brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead and sighed, “I looked in your room and didn’t see him.”

  “Bathroom,” Jason muttered sulkily. He felt guilty, he’d let Liam sneak back into the house after his mum had gone to bed, seemed his friend wasn’t too keen on the great outdoors after all. An hour in the tent had sent him scurrying up the road to Jason’s house. A sleeping bag on the bedroom floor was preferable to getting bitten by midges all night.

  Beth sighed. “Yes, of course.” Why hadn’t she checked out the obvious, what was wrong with her? “Tell him to go home.”

  “I’m on my way, Mrs Adams,” Liam came bounding down the stairs. “Sorry,” he mumbled shamefaced as he grabbed a slice of toast off Jason’s plate.

  Beth felt sorry for him. It couldn’t be easy living with a bullying father and a frightened cowering mother. He acted tough but Beth could still see the little boy hiding behind the facade. She watched him leave shutting the door behind him, and turned back to Jason to give him a telling off.

  Before she had a chance to say anything there was a sudden violent noise outside the house. Beth flung the door open in time to see a delivery truck swerving from side to side finally crashing into a neighbour’s fence and stopping.

  Running to the end of her drive, Beth stopped and stared appalled. Liam’s father, Rod, was lying in the middle of the road, or at least some of him was, he seemed to be missing a leg. Liam was standing at the end of her driveway his hands held out in front of him, his finger splayed out as if he’d tried to prevent the accident. He turned his head in a creaky way and stared at Beth.

  “He was shouting at me and he ran into the road,” he said in a strangled voice.

  Someone was screaming and Beth realised it was Fiona, she was running along the pavement in her bare feet.

  The truck driver almost fell out of his cab, the jagged gash on his head bleeding bright red blood into his eyes. His face was a white terrified blob. He stumbled, disorientated and sank down onto the kerbstone.

  Rod was dead. His neck was twisted at a terrible angle as if his neck had snapped in two. Beth ran across the road and grabbed Fiona’s arm.

  “It’s too late,” she told her, “I’m
so sorry, he’s dead.”

  Fiona stared at her with wild eyes. “Dead?” she whispered. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  The ambulance had arrived closely followed by a police car.

  “Oh, God,” Fiona sank her body against Beth’s and clung to her. “I wanted him to leave me, I didn’t ask for him to be killed, what have I done, Beth?” She sobbed, “You’re not to tell anyone, do you promise?”

  “I promise. None of this is your fault. He was angry with Liam; he wasn’t looking where he was going.”

  “Liam?” Fiona’s eyes were wide with terror.

  “It’s okay, he’s here, he stayed over my house with Jason, seemed he couldn’t face camping on his own.”

  Several people had rushed out of their houses and were grouped huddled together on the pavement watching the macabre sight of Rod’s body being lifted into the ambulance, followed by his leg wrapped separately in a white sheet. The police hustled them away and began putting tape up around the scene of the accident. The poor truck driver kept shaking his head telling anyone who would listen that his brakes had suddenly failed him. He was led away to the police car. Beth called one of the police officers over.

  “This is the man’s wife,” she told him. “She’s very distressed; can she go in the ambulance with her husband?”

  “No, no,” Fiona wailed, “I want my son.”

  Liam seemed to shake himself out of his trance and came racing out over towards her, a terrified expression on his face. He was shivering and Fiona put her arms around him. “It was very quick,” she sobbed, “I’m sure he didn’t suffer. Come with me to the hospital.” She turned to the police officer, “Is that all right?”

  “Of course and eh, I’m very sorry for your loss.” Fiona was helped into the back of the ambulance and Liam climbed in beside her. She was sitting next to the covered body of her husband and she gave Beth a small wave and for one strange moment Beth thought Fiona was smiling even though her eyes glittered with tears. Beth waved back.

  Jason was standing in the hall, a half eaten slice of toast in his hand. His eyelids drooped halfway over his eyes. “Liam’s glad.” He said.