Cold Justice

by Lee Weeks

  Eileen watched him from the doorway.

  She stared at the back of his head and thought about the boiled egg and smashing it.

  As the reconstruction ended, Raymonds got up to switch the TV off. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked his wife.

  ‘Waiting.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘The truth.’

  He gave a derisory snort through his nose and snot came out that he hadn’t bargained on. He took his cloth handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose.

  ‘What is it you want to know?’

  ‘Marky?’

  ‘Hasn’t he been to see you yet?’

  ‘Oh yes, he’s been. But he’s not himself. He’s not well, I know it. He couldn’t look at me when he was talking to me. He couldn’t stay still. He’s talking about Kensa again. He’s so worried. I’ve told him none of it was his fault.’

  ‘Okay. That’s interesting. Did you also tell him to stop shoving white snow up his nose? Look . . . look . . . I had hoped to spare you this but I can’t. You think Marky is your blue-eyed boy, who can do no wrong, but the truth is I’ve been covering his arse since the moment he was born and I’m sick of doing it. He’s dragging this town down.’

  ‘Marky is what we’ve made him and he can’t help what he was born.’

  ‘Bullshit, you want to believe that, then you go ahead. He’s a weak-minded little shit.’

  ‘It’s not him, it’s Towan and Jago.’

  ‘Is it? Is it really, Eileen? Okay . . .’ He raised his palms in the air and shook his head. ‘Okay, say you’re right and all our son is is a sheep, following the black one in the herd. What then? All we’ve built up for ourselves is wasted on him?’

  ‘You’ve kept him too controlled. He doesn’t know how to be a man.’

  ‘Blaming me now?’

  ‘Yes, blaming you for not doing what you should have years ago.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Face the truth.’

  ‘Are you for real? Do you understand what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No, no you fucking don’t. Get out of my way.’

  Raymonds got into his car and drove the long way round to make sure no one saw him. He parked up below Kensa’s field where no one would see him.

  Kensa was inside the caravan when he got there. She was staring out of the window and watched him approach.

  ‘Kensa?’ There was an agonized bewilderment in her expression. ‘Kensa?’

  Raymonds stood by the open door. Kensa was still looking the opposite way, out of the window. ‘Kensa?’ She didn’t move. ‘Turn round.’ She breathed in – visibly: her shoulders rose and held on to it, then let it fall; her skinny arms seemed to shiver. She did as she was told. Her thoughts were still elsewhere. He could see it. She was full of panic. She was about to scream and not be able to stop.

  ‘Kensa,’ he said in a soft voice, and she responded accordingly. She nodded but she did not see him, her eyes remained focused on some faraway place. ‘Are you okay, Kensa?’ She didn’t answer but she focused on him for a few seconds then turned her head sharply away. He had seen her like this many times. She was on the brink of oblivion. She was crumbling on the inside. She would sit for days like this, staring out at her own thoughts.

  ‘Kensa, snap out of it.’ He looked at her cracked lips. So deep were the cracks that her lips had swollen around them. Dark shadows encased her sunken eyes. She wore a scarf on her head. She looked like some refugee hounded from one country to the next, bitten by despair and harshness. ‘Where’s Mawgan? She needs to get things organized. It’s freezing in here. Switch on the fire, Kensa, for Christ’s sake.’

  As he talked his breath came out white. He stood and switched on the gas heater; its orange glow filled the gloom of the van.

  Kensa didn’t look at Raymonds. Her eyes remained large and dark, glazed, almost milky, as they stared off into space.

  ‘Misty’s gone.’

  ‘He’s not gone far. You can fetch him after we have our talk.’

  She turned and glared at Raymonds. ‘You have no right to take Misty.’

  ‘I have every right. You need to behave yourself, Kensa. People are saying you’re not fit to look after a horse like Misty. You’ve been talking to people you shouldn’t.’

  ‘What people? I ain’t said nothing.’

  ‘About the boy, about the night in 2000.’

  ‘I said nothing, I promise you. Please, sir, I promise, I’ll do anything, just give me my horse back.’

  ‘Okay, if you promise you’ll be good.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘People are sick of seeing you the way you are. You can’t sit here all day, Kensa. You’re a young woman still. Get washed and dressed and I’ll take you out somewhere. Let’s get you a hot meal and we’ll talk about things. We’ll have fun like we used to.’

  As he spoke he looked around the shabby van. He was thinking how it had been six months or more since the last time he came up to see Kensa. It had been too long. He needed to make her his priority from now on – he hadn’t realized how she wasn’t taking care of herself. As he was just thinking of how he was going to sort it in the short term, he saw Mawgan walking up the field towards the van. She didn’t know he was there, he could tell. She was walking, head down. Strong powerful legs that were shapely beneath her breeches. It struck him that it was about time he found her a husband to create a new generation in the village. Raymonds stood back a little out of first sight, as she stepped up and opened the door to the van.

  ‘Kensa? I got you some breakfast – a sausage roll from Cam’s café. It’s still hot. Just like he is . . .’ She laughed. ‘He sends his love.’ Her breath was steaming out, her face glowing with perspiration. She turned and saw Raymonds and registered the strange, malicious, smug expression on his face. She looked back at Kensa.

  ‘Everything all right?’

  She didn’t answer.

  ‘She’s becoming ill again,’ said Raymonds. ‘She needs you to take better care of her. She’s skin and bone and she has almost nothing on.’ Raymonds could see beneath her thin layers her scrawny breasts, her ribs, and the loose skin on her stomach. ‘In this bitter cold!’

  ‘Kensa?’ Kensa turned to look at her friend but she didn’t answer. ‘It’s okay, you can go now,’ she said to Raymonds as she pulled Kensa’s blanket up around her and started tidying. ‘I’ll look after her.’

  ‘You better had, otherwise I’ll need to call in the doctor and see to Kensa. Get her sectioned again.’ Kensa looked up in a panic.

  ‘It’s all right; we’ll be fine. She can come to the farm with me.’

  Raymonds considered his response for a moment and then he nodded, picked up his gloves and keys from the table.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it – just walk with me to my car, Mawgan.’

  Mawgan agreed reluctantly; she tore open the bag with the sausage roll and placed it in front of Kensa.

  ‘Back in a min.’

  As they walked down the hill Raymonds said, ‘You make sure that Kensa isn’t bothering anyone. When the police officers come and want to talk to her you say she isn’t well enough. I’ll do my best to keep them away. It’s all over town – the upset over that lad. She doesn’t help the situation with her dreams and her visions, she should keep those to herself. It’s given those detectives a foothold here. None of us wants that. Given them all the ammunition they need to come down here in their thousands and search every house and every field and turn our village upside down.’

  He looked Mawgan’s way. She didn’t look back. He called after her, ‘If the boy were to be down here – I’d advise to dispose of him double-quick, no matter who had him – we cannot all suffer for a few. Well, you can hear me well enough, I know. You better listen when I tell you that you’re about to bring a ton of trouble down on your stupid head if you don’t watch it. You may think you’re clever but you’re not; you’ve never been. I’m going to find you a nice
husband, Mawgan, and you better settle down.’

  They paused at the gate where his car was. ‘Make Kensa understand she has to behave too, or she won’t be welcome here any more. We’re sick of her madness. She’s a disgrace. I heard she got off her head on booze the other night and was seen giving blow jobs to teenagers in the car park. I’ll arrest her next time she makes a spectacle of herself like that.’

  ‘You think Kensa’s bad?’ retorted Mawgan. ‘You should look at your own family before you start picking on her. All your bullshit meetings and procedures and you ignore the things going on right under your nose. We’ve all had enough.’

  ‘You’re talking rubbish.’ Raymonds was visibly taken aback by her tone. He’d never heard her say so much. He’d never seen her so angry.

  ‘Really? You want to start asking the right people the right questions. I see what they’ve been doing – they’re laughing at you – you’re a joke. The boys are going to turn this place inside out – leave you high and dry. I’ve heard them plotting in the evenings. They intend to stitch you up, and good luck to them.’

  ‘You be careful what you say, Mawgan, you watch who you accuse of things. There’s people in this village who are sick of you and your new-found reckless behaviour. You don’t watch it – you and Kensa will be out of here with nothing.’

  ‘This village owes me and Kensa.’

  ‘How do you work that out? I saw to it that she had clothes on her back, food in her mouth. We can’t go on spoon-feeding her if she doesn’t want to help herself.’

  ‘She should have had justice. We all should have. It wasn’t right what happened.’

  ‘Forget all about it. It’s better for everyone.’

  ‘I can’t. No one can. Don’t you realize, as much as you try and cover it up it eats at the heart of Penhal, something rotten, putrid, maggot-ridden, that’s what the truth is.’

  ‘That’s enough, Mawgan!’

  She shook her head. ‘You really think it’s that simple. You can just flick a switch in your head and all the bad bits are gone? It is what I am now. All this stored-up shit inside me – it is me.’

  ‘Only if you let it be.’

  She turned and walked back up the field towards Kensa’s van.

  He called after her. ‘You listen to me, Mawgan Stokes, before it’s too late.’

  Raymonds left her and drove further up the lane into the Stokes farm. He was angrier than he’d been for a long while at the thought that the town was laughing at him, that the young pretenders were aiming to push him out. It would be a fight to the death. He looked over the hedge and saw Stokes sowing in the field. He watched the seagulls screaming and they swarmed around Stokes. The black crows were already on the red earth. As fast as Stokes was sowing the seed the birds were eating it. They rose and fell in one chequerboard locust. He parked up and walked across the field.

  ‘Get a scarecrow, Martin, for fuck’s sake. Those birds are eating your profit. You’ll have nothing to sell in the shop.’ Stokes switched off his machinery and walked across.

  ‘Get Mawgan to make one for you,’ Raymonds shouted above the noisy commotion of the birds. ‘Keep her out of mischief, she has too much time on her hands. What’s come over her, Martin? You have to do something about her behaviour. Her and Kensa are stirring things up in the village.’

  ‘I can’t control her like I used to.’

  ‘You want to show her who’s boss.’ Stokes shrugged, exasperated. ‘Does she listen to her brother?’

  ‘Depends what he’s saying. He’s not made himself popular since he’s been back. He hasn’t won many hearts.’

  ‘But at least he’s a go-getter. At least he tries things. He’s got the balls to stand up for himself. He’s a great asset. Mawgan’s got to realize we all pull our weight for each other in this place. Towan’s done well since he came back. I think he’ll make a place for himself here, if he does things right.’

  ‘One day he’ll push her too hard. I can see it in her eyes.’

  ‘Is Towan in the house? I need a word with him.’

  ‘What for? We’ve got no secrets here.’

  ‘I just want to tell him how much I appreciate the work he’s doing for us, that’s all. Praise is what he needs. Did you find those contact details for the guests at Kellis House yet?’

  ‘No, I can’t find them.’

  Raymonds eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why do I get the feeling you’re lying to me?’

  ‘I’m not. I can’t think where I put the book with their details in.’

  ‘We won’t even be able to buy it unless we put some pressure on those men in that book. For Christ’s sake, Martin, our future is resting on it and you’ve messed it up as usual.’

  ‘Now just hang on a minute, don’t speak to me like that.’

  ‘You’re drawing a lot of unwelcome attention to yourself. I heard about your stupid episode in London – what the hell were you thinking, kerb-crawling?’

  ‘I was just thinking maybe . . .’

  ‘What, that you’d draw attention to yourself?’

  ‘There’s no need to talk to me like I’m an idiot.’ Stokes was fuming.

  ‘Have you asked Towan?’

  ‘Asked him what?’

  ‘To try and find the book for us.’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m worried about involving Towan in too much.’

  ‘Why? Because he’s likely to be better at things than you?’

  ‘No, because he does what he wants in the end. He’s always one to spot an opportunity. He’s been in trouble for it before. It’s every man for himself with him. He’s up to something with that Jago and your Marky, I know it.’

  ‘Well, don’t tell me we couldn’t do with a bit more ambition in this place. We need to push Toby to accept our offer for the house now.’

  ‘What, now, while his son is missing?’

  ‘What better time could there be? They’re never going to want to live with the memories down here, added to the fact that their boy is dead, thrown off some cliff somewhere.’

  Stokes scrutinized Raymonds for a few seconds than walked back to his tractor. The birds began their flying frenzy again.

  Inside the farmhouse Raymonds found Towan looking at porn on his laptop open on the kitchen table. He glanced Raymonds’ way as he came in but he didn’t stop watching it. Now he viewed the screen with a mocking smile on his lips as he eyed Raymonds out of the corner of his vision, making his way around the kitchen slowly. He was taking it all in, swaggering through; Raymonds leaned slightly backwards as he walked. He came to a standstill beside Towan and snapped the laptop lid down as Towan pulled his fingers out of the way.

  ‘We need to talk. The shop needs opening every day. The shelves need stocking with veg and meat from this farm and you need to get up off your lazy fucking arse, otherwise I’ll make sure you go back inside for a good long stretch. You’ll be my age by the time you come out.’

  ‘Ha . . . don’t think so. After talking to those detectives, I realize that you should be quite grateful to me; after all, you’re in deeper than anyone.’

  ‘I want to make a deal with you, Towan. Your father’s getting on, he doesn’t seem to have the stomach for things any more, and I believe we have the future ahead of us. I’d like you to be my right-hand man here in Penhal. I can see you inheriting all this and more. You just need to prove yourself to me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘There are people who are out to drag you down. They just want to stitch you up. I’ve offered your father a partnership in any new business I set up. That includes buying Kellis House and running it as a highly serviced guest house, but we need to find the clientele. We need the book of contacts that your dad says he can’t find. The regular users of Kellis House may want to put money in the pot towards buying it, a timeshare arrangement. And you and your dad can go on providing any extras that will be wanted when they get down here. This is the future for us. That house is ours by right. Forbes-Wright should have kept to his word
and it should have been left to us in a will. I haven’t invested this much in this town to see it go under and take us all with it. If strangers move in then we’ve lost the opportunity of a lifetime. At the moment that opportunity is split three ways, but . . . your father has to give over the book.’

  Chapter 30

  Willis called Jeanie on her police radio.

  ‘I’ve left Lauren walking back to the house on her own – she’s phoning Toby.’

  ‘I don’t know where Toby is right now. But I know he’s being followed, so I’ll find out soon enough. How’s Lauren coping? I’ve asked him, but he’s not ready to come to Cornwall.’

  ‘Lauren’s coping, as long as she’s busy. Toby would have to be prepared to face a lot of hostility here if he comes down,’ said Willis.

  ‘From Kensa? I’m not surprised.’

  ‘Actually, not from her; she seems to still have a soft spot for Toby. She doesn’t remember it happening. She just remembers people telling her it happened and feeling devastated and bruised. But it wasn’t just her and Toby involved that night. Most of the village were at the same party. There’s so much going on here, it’s hard to focus on the one thing that matters, finding Samuel alive.’

  ‘How’s the search going?’

  ‘We have teams looking for him along the cliffs, on the moors and down the mine shafts, which appear around every corner in this county. It’s a difficult call. There are so many places he could be. If he’s dead, he could have been dumped at sea and may never be found.’

  ‘What are the local people like?’

  ‘Carter’s already had an attempt on his life. They don’t like interference here. The harder you lean on this village, the tighter people unite against you.’

  ‘A proper close-knit community. In the bad sense. What’s the house like?’

  Willis moved into the drawing room at the front of the house. ‘I’d say it’s Victorian, baroque, heavy gold and red curtains, golden statues of pheasants. Every picture on the wall seems to be of naked curvy women feeding some moustached man with his clothes on. There are mirrors and dark panels on the walls. There are pretty risqué statues everywhere. The Kama Sutra features big in the artwork here. The bathrooms are my favourite rooms. They are so great – heated floors and wet rooms, massive baths that I can lie right down in. I’ve never had that before.’