A Fitting Revenge

by CA Sole

  Later, after the day’s discussions had given the other part of my brain a chance to think more rationally about events, I drove home in a calmer manner than in the morning. Cloud cover had begun to creep across the sky at about midday, gradually reducing the sun from a bright ghost behind a translucent screen to an unobtrusive and dimmer source of light. The ceiling dropped lower and lower as I drove and it was obvious that a stormy night was in store. By the time I was home, dark rolls of cloud were tumbling over and over in the rising wind, and the slab sided Defender rocked to every gust.

  I put my key to the lock, but stopped short. My heart accelerated, thumping. My mouth went dry. I had locked the front door when I left, now it was almost closed. Almost, just half an inch of the jamb was showing. It open slowly and quietly to a gentle push. No sound could be heard over the storm and the odd creak from the old house. Precious little light entered through the small windows from that darkening sky; it was impossible to make out any detail in the room. I stood motionless until my eyes adjusted, the door pulled to behind me, listening for the slightest odd sound amidst the patter of the rain on the tiles and the rumble of the weather rolling in.

  Every drawer and cupboard door was open, the contents strewn over the floor. Chair cushions had been ripped open and tossed to the side, one chair was on its back, the TV was on the floor, but intact. The kitchen did not look as if it had been touched. All this I took in at a glance. Was he still here? That was vital. Anger tried to surface. I forced it down; emotion could wait. I quietly crossed the room to my office. It was trashed. Files were ripped open and paper lay everywhere. Sellotape, scissors, paper clips and pens were strewn across the floor. The bookshelf had been tipped over, and my laptop had been given a stomping.

  Lighting flashed, illuminating the room for a second, the devastation stark. An immediate crack of thunder showed how close the strike had been. The shock was distracting, but a little noise behind me wasn’t right. A rustle of clothes, a breath close by, I don’t know, but it shouldn’t have been there. I ducked and turned. Something clipped my ear and glanced off my left shoulder dropping me to the floor. A broad, dark, hooded figure stood over me, a jemmy high above his head, the curved end silhouetted by the window. It swept down again, seemingly in slow motion. I rolled away just in time. It thudded into the floor. It went up above his head for the next blow. He wasn’t going to miss again. Hooking my left foot behind his to jam it, I stabbed at the front of his knee with my right one. He grunted in pain and fell over backwards. I tried to get up, but my shoulder wouldn’t support the move. I rolled over to use the other side, but he had already clambered to his feet and run out, limping heavily.

  He half ran and half hopped down the drive, disappearing in the rain before he reached the gate. He was in no state to continue the fight, thank goodness; I certainly wasn’t. The whole episode had probably lasted no more than ten seconds, less, but it felt an age. Talking of age, I poured an twelve year old malt down my throat and then added a touch of water to the next one.

  Where was Tina? If he’d hurt her, I’d kill him. Angrily, I searched around the house, then out into the yard from barn to barn, calling her name. She was normally very obedient, so I became increasingly concerned. Eventually, immensely relieved, I found her gnawing on a huge fleshy bone in the tractor shed, oblivious to the storm.

  The recorder had been found and had also received a stomping, but the memory card was in my pocket if that was the cause of this mess. In the bedroom the cameras were ripped off their leads, and one had been used to shatter the mirror, it lay amongst shards of glass on the floor. My temper rose. Why do they have to wreak so much wanton destruction, why not just take what they want and go? This mess was going to take forever to sort out. I stared at my image in what remained of the mirror in the frame. There was a bruise forming on my left cheek and that ear was bleeding. There were marks on the door jamb of my bedroom, but no force had been applied. I must have disturbed him at that point.

  The first call I made was to the police who would send a car round in ten minutes; that was good, I thought. The second call was to Giles and this time he answered. ‘Bloody hell, Alastair,’ he exclaimed when I’d finished, ‘Are you all right? Who did this? Any idea? Was it just an ordinary burglary?’

  ‘I’m fine. Shoulder’s a bit sore, but that will get better, and the house and my things will get better eventually too. My bet is that this is the work of your lovely wife, or someone she hired. I told her I would be out all day, but I came back early and caught him in the house. He used the front door, probably because anyone in the wood shop would be able to see him round the back. And he didn’t latch the door which tells me that he thought I wouldn’t be back ’til later, but maybe not. ’

  ‘Tony, I’ll bet. It’ll be Tony, the jack of all trades who seems devoted to the bloody woman.’

  ‘Jack of all trades? Is burglary a trade? But you could well be right, he was about the same size and weight and he was very strong and, come to think of it, he was slightly bow legged. If you see him, he’ll be limping for a while.’

  A car drew up outside. ‘Giles I’m going to have to go, the police are here already.’

  They were very sympathetic, on the surface anyway, and asked all the right questions, even if I wanted an ambulance. They said someone would be round in the evening to take fingerprints, they were busy with a possible suicide right then. I told them there was no need, he wore gloves, but they replied that as it was also an assault they had to investigate further and I should touch as little as possible.

  Back in my office after they’d left, and searching for what might be missing, I realised that my e-ticket to Chile had gone. I would not be able to print another as there was now no computer. No matter, they only need a passport to check in. I’d have to buy another laptop quickly, though.

  On the phone to Giles again, I reminded him that the six months was nearly up and that Sandra had to file for divorce before it was. ‘This woman is going to stop at nothing to get her hands on your money now that her case of adultery on your part has been nullified by her own. ’

  ‘You’re not wrong,’ he answered thoughtfully, ‘it had occurred to me.’

  ‘You need to be ultra suspicious of her. Try to anticipate her surprise tactics and stay out of arguments, just walk away. Come Tuesday, I’ll be off to Chile for a week. When I’m back we can put our heads together over future plans.’

  No sooner had I put the phone down than there was a demanding knock on the door. I peered cautiously through the window to see a large man with a heavy belly standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt, back to the door and staring out at the rain which had lessened by then. ‘Ullo, Mr Forbes?’ he asked when I opened the door a crack. I didn’t want prying eyes looking at that mess. He put a heavy forearm up to the door frame. It was covered in tattoos. ‘You’ve a barn to rent?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Do you want to see it now?’ I reached for a large umbrella and handed to him, then took a second one for myself.

  ‘A spot o’ rain don’ bother me. I’m ‘Arry Burbage, by the way.’ He grabbed my hand with a massive paw, and the movement shook his fleshy jowls. He took the umbrella and continued talking as we walked around the house and towards the barns. ‘Me passion’s old MG sports cars, y’know. Me MG TC is a truly beautiful motor. I’ve also got an MG TB (that’s a rare one), a TA, a TF and I’m lookin’ for a TD to complete the set. I’ve also got a Series 1 Land Rover. Although that’s not a sports car you understand?’

  ‘I have a Defender,’ I replied as we trudged through the rain, ‘I love it so I understand what you mean.’

  ‘Not the same, these modern ones, not the same. Too complicated. Anyway, I’ve only got a small garridge where I’m workin’ on the TB at the moment, and there’s no room for nuffin’ else. So I want your barn for the others until the TB’s done, then I’ll swop one over. Reckon I’ll do the TF next.’

  Inside the barn, it was dark thanks to the weather, but
there was enough light to see that it was empty. ‘Perfect,’ Harry said then pointed at a steel door in the back wall, ‘What’s behind there?’

  ‘There’s a small store, but I can’t find the key. I was looking for it when I advertised and then forgot about it. I don’t want to cut the padlock, so I’ll try to find it again. The room’s about ten foot square, will that do you?’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said again, ‘it’s just to ‘old some tools and spares in case I want to work here.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go and discuss the contract over a beer if you like.’

  We sat in the kitchen, which hadn’t been ransacked, to go over the rental agreement. Harry proved to be a talker and he seemed genuinely shocked at the devastation in the lounge. Eventually I managed to show him out the door with a signed agreement in place. He said he could not move his cars for another week as he had other things to do. I replied that the place was his now, and he could do what he wanted, but I’d try and find the key to the store before he moved in.

  As I drifted off to sleep that night and my thoughts ran over the afternoon’s dramatic events, the image of a silhouette standing over me with the raised jemmy kept looming into view. That had been very close, I thought, too damned close, then realised there was something odd about that jemmy. Unsurprisingly, I had not noticed it at the time, but the recurring image showed the unmistakable curved end to the weapon in silhouette distorted by something else, something straight as if he was wielding two things together in the same hand. Odd, but not worth bothering about, the end result was the same, and it ached.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Juliet arrived late on Sunday afternoon, glad to be there. The rain had passed in the early morning and left a cooler, cloudless day which did little to remove my apprehension over her visit. I heard the car and went out to meet her. She stared at my bandaged ear with an unspoken question in her eyes. We kissed and I held her tightly for an unusually long time, my lips buried in the hair on top of her head. She was good to hug, her trim little body allowed me to feel all her curves through her tan jeans and green woollen jersey. ‘Am I glad to see you?’ I whispered in her ear.

  ‘It would appear so,’ she said, ‘you’re squashing me! What’s the matter?’ Tenderly, she put a hand up to my ear when I released her, ‘Tell me.’

  I led her inside and she stood still in the doorway, stunned at the scene. She wandered around, shaking her head in disbelief as she examined the wreckage in the lounge then in my office which, if anything, was even more of a mess. Then she turned and looked up at me wordlessly, her hazel eyes switching from one of mine to the other and back repeatedly, searching for an answer.

  ‘You had better sit down and have a drink, if it’s not too early. This is a long story. I’m going to tell you everything and you’re not going to like it, I’m afraid. Jules, please, do not fly off the handle until I’m finished. I need your understanding and help, and so does Giles.’

  The only chairs not slashed open were at the dining table. She pulled one out and accepted the scotch, sliding it across the table towards her with two hands. ‘You know I’ll help, anything. Shall we clear up this mess?’

  ‘Don’t make promises you may not keep. I’ll clear later, it’s not important right now.’ Nervously, I began and left nothing out except the details of my sexual adventures. Deliberately, I switched the order around, so that the two bouts with Sandra were left to the end. I wanted Juliet to listen to what was driving Giles' and my decisions before she became so jealous and angry, that she wouldn’t want to hear anymore or couldn’t concentrate on what I was saying. When I had reached the end of the reasoning, she got up and wandered round the room again, taking in the shambles. She picked up a book and put it on the window sill, then found my small wooden Buddha on the floor, which she cradled in both hands. ‘But why this destruction? Why would someone want to do this? What do you want me to do? How can I help?’

  ‘Giles and I both think it’s his wife that’s behind it, probably using her friend’s husband, Tony Wiggins who’s a bit thuggish. Sandra must be paying him, otherwise why would he trash this place and try to kill me if there wasn’t some reward for it?’

  Her brow furrowed with concern. ‘It’s awful, lover. But why? What are you going to do?’

  ‘I haven’t finished, and this is the bit where I’m honestly petrified of your reaction, but please listen to the end.’ I had thought long and hard whether to tell her about the first episode with Sandra, as I had no excuse for that, but honesty had never been doubted in our relationship. There may have been omissions on both our parts, and I didn’t doubt that she had been out with others far away in Yorkshire, she was far too attractive not to be pestered by men. If we come through this intact and together, I will commit, I promised myself.

  Her eyelids sagged and her mouth turned down as it became obvious what I was going to say about the first episode. She was struggling to contain herself, her lips tight and trembling. Then, when it came to Friday night, she became really angry, her eyes glinting with moisture. ‘Alastair, how could you?’ She jumped up and strode to the window, passing the Buddha from one hand to the other repeatedly. Loudly, she demanded, ‘How could you let me come here and then tell me this?’

  ‘I’ve tried to explain that,’ I said weakly. ‘Jules, I’m so sorry, really sorry, but it was just a job, something that had to be done to help save Giles.’

  ‘It wasn’t a ‘job’ as you put it, on the first occasion, was it?’ she snapped. Tears ran freely down her cheeks as she slumped down into a chair again. ‘How could you? Everything we’ve built up, the trust, the love, the honesty between us - in one stupid drunken night you’ve destroyed us! Oh Alastair, how could you?’ she cried, stood up then suddenly hurled the Buddha at me. ‘You bastard! You absolute bloody sod!’ I dodged, and the symbol of peace smashed into the wall and fell to the floor.

  I could do nothing, it was as she said. Everything we had I had single-handedly destroyed. I watched her pacing up and down the room, my misery matching hers, not knowing what to say. Tina was worried, she had never experienced even raised voices between us before. She pushed her nose against my thigh, so I put a hand on her head; at least I could comfort someone.

  More quietly Juliet said, ‘Giles won’t have told you this, but at that picnic when you fell in the river, and you went to the car to get a towel for Tina, he stood next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. He often touched me in a friendly, firm and supporting fashion, but this was different. It was a tentative touch loaded with feeling. He knew it and I knew it. I don’t think he set out to touch me like that, I think it was meant to be his usual reassuring gesture, but it emerged as it did from some deep rooted emotion. I moved away from him then and told him that I truly loved him dearly, but I loved you more and I had made my choice and asked him not to complicate our relationship and possibly ruin his friendship with you. I told him I was not prepared to come between you two and that my mind was made up. I felt I had to do that immediately, before he got any more ideas. I did that for you, I could have succumbed to a temptation from the second most wonderful man in the world for me, but I didn’t because of loyalty to you, because I loved you more. And now you do this.’

  She stopped and leant on the back of a chair, breathing deeply. I put out my hand to her, to put my fingers on hers, but she shook them off angrily. ‘Don’t touch me with those hands! It’s too late to drive home now. I’m going to bed in the little room.’ Tina followed her up the stairs. On the landing, Juliet knelt down to the dog and, holding her head in two hands, kissed it. The bedroom door was shut very firmly.

  I felt like crying myself, I felt sick. There was a void in me that nothing but her understanding and forgiveness could fill. There was no possibility of sleep, so I set about clearing up. Tina responded to the tension by following me around the room. She was getting under my feet, so I shepherded her to bed, gave her a cuddle and carried on until after midnight. At the top of the stairs, near the door to the litt
le room, I could hear muffled sobbing. It only served to reinforce my shame and bring tears to my eyes too. I had hurt her terribly, how could I ease that pain? What could I do to make it right? Was there anything? I picked up the Buddha, it was split along the grain from a shoulder to the opposite thigh. It was symbolic; split but not separated. If I seamlessly glued the two pieces back together, would that restore the bond between us?

  In bed, anguishing over our future, I still couldn’t sleep, but it must have caught up with me at some point because I woke to the smell of coffee wafting up the stairs. Partly dressed and with trepidation, I went down to the lounge then watched her at the counter. She was facing the other way and hadn’t heard my bare feet. Her long auburn hair, normally held up in a pony tail, was slightly tousled and cascaded down her back in a shining tumble of waves. She had a gymnastic figure. It was hidden now in a silk dressing gown with the belt pulled tight around her waist. God, but I loved this woman! We were such a perfect pair. Please Jules, please forgive me.

  She turned around and started. ‘Don’t creep up on me like that!’ Waving a hand to the machine, she said without any semblance of warmth, ‘I’ve made coffee.’ Her eyes were red and swollen. I wondered if she had slept at all.

  ‘Thanks. Jules, I ...’

  ‘Don’t Alastair, don’t say anything. I need time. I understand why you did what you did on Friday, you’ve explained that very well, and maybe in time I can forgive you that. What I cannot forgive, maybe not ever, is your infidelity the first time.’ I opened my mouth to speak. ‘No! Don’t say anything. I’m going to have a slice of toast, then I’ll go home. I can’t bear to be in this house any longer. I will contact you, I promise, but I’m not sure when. In the meantime, please don’t call me.’ She glared at me, forcing my reluctant and nodded acceptance, then added, ‘At least you maintained your honesty. Thank you for that.’