Bia's War

by Joanna Larum

  “Inside my head I was screaming and wailing but, outwardly, I was very quiet. I could feel my frozen blood still pumping round my body, every beat of my heart carrying daggers of ice through my bloodstream along my veins and I could feel the sharp puncture wounds they were making throughout my whole torso. Still on my knees and still holding Simon’s corpse, I turned and looked at William and Dennison for the first time.”

  “William was sitting on the only chair in the warehouse, his one arm tied to the chair’s arm by a red cord which was also looped tightly round his neck, making it impossible for William to raise his head fully without strangling himself. He had blood dripping out of his nose and one eye was already swelling where Dennison had obviously swung a punch at him. His wounds left me cold. I wouldn’t have cared if Dennison had been stabbing him with a sword while I watched. I would have just turned away and concentrated on Simon.”

  “The pig butcher himself was sitting on the edge of the table next to the chair, swinging his legs out in front of him and grinning evilly at the three of us. I couldn’t understand why Sam and Peter hadn’t overpowered him between them, but then I realised that Dennison was holding the end of the red cord which was wrapped round William’s neck. As I glanced at it, he gave a sharp tug which tightened it, causing William to gasp and gag with the pain and the lack of air.”

  “ ‘If yon two heavies come any closer to me,’ the pig butcher growled, ‘I’ll really pull your husband’s cord. I’ve wrapped his neck like a joint of pork, with all the knots in just the right places. When I pull the cord those knots will tighten, compress his airway and the armless excuse for a man will choke to death. Do you want to watch me do it?’”

  “Oh Nana! The man was mad, he must have been!” Victoria cried. “What sort of a person not only kills a child but thinks other people will want to watch him strangle a man? You must have been absolutely terrified!”

  “No.” Nana replied. “I wasn’t terrified at all. I was dead inside and when you are dead you don’t feel anything at all. And I was determined that I was going to kill Dennison for killing my child. I wanted revenge and I wanted it while the white-heat of my anger was still raging inside me. Not for me the idea that revenge is a dish best eaten cold, oh no. I only had one thing to live for at that moment in time and that was to watch my son’s killer as his life-blood drained from him.”

  There was silence between them as Victoria digested this thought and then both Nana and Victoria clearly heard Victoria’s mother shouting from the bottom of the stairs.

  “It’s Mam.” Victoria said, unnecessarily. “It must be tea-time and I promised I would help her cook it. But I can’t go now! I want to know what happened next!”

  “You’d better go now, Victoria.” Nana said. “If you upset your mother now, she might not let you sit with me tomorrow and you’ve got to let Mr Vine in when he comes. He might ask for me in the shop if he doesn’t get an answer at the side door and then your mother will never rest until she finds out what he’s here for. You must go downstairs now.”

  “Yes, you’re right, Nana, as usual.” Victoria said. “But fancy having to stop at that point in the story! I’ll never manage to revise tonight because I’ll be wondering what happened next.”

  “Just bide your patience, pet. You’ll hear the rest of it tomorrow, don’t you worry! Now go, quickly!”

  “Right! I’ve gone! See you tomorrow, Nana!” And Victoria grabbed her English books and shot down the stairs into the kitchen, where her mother was already throwing meat into a big pan on the cooker.

  “It’s a good job you came when you did, lady” was her mother’s opening remark. “I told you to peel those potatoes for tea, so that we can eat at a reasonable time tonight and what did you do? Not what I asked you to, that’s for sure. You might be on holiday from school, but there’s still work to be done here.”

  “I’m sorry, Mam.” Victoria managed to butt in when her mother had to stop to draw breath. “But I was revising this Shakespeare play and I was lost in what was happening. I really didn’t hear you. I’m sorry.”

  “Humph!” Bia grunted, knowing that she couldn’t complain about her daughter revising for her exams. “Well, you can get on with them now.”

  Victoria set to with a will, amazed at herself for daring to lie to her mother and secretly pleased that for the first time in her life she had managed to divert one of her mother’s bad moods away from herself. Was she growing up? Would she reach a point where it didn’t matter to her what her mother said to her, she would be able to ignore the jibes and not let them hurt her? It hardly seemed possible but, for the first time in her life, she had given her mother an answer and it hadn’t been thrown straight back at her. Was it the confidence to do it that was lacking in her and not the capability? She wasn’t ready to test this out, but she felt that she was growing in confidence and it was coming to her from her grandmother. She felt she had done a lot of growing up since Nana Lymer had started telling her what terrible things had happened to her when she was a young woman, but she had fought back against every knock that life had given her. Perhaps Victoria was imbibing some of her grandmother’s courage as she absorbed her story. It was a thought that made her feel warm inside and provided a protective shell against her mother’s taunts.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Victoria was up, dressed and had had her breakfast before her father came back from his early morning visit to the bakery to collect the bread and cakes to sell that day.

  “You’re eager this morning.” Dad smiled at her. “Are you going to do some revision for your exams today? You’ve got to get good grades to be able to choose what you want to do at A-level and then there’s university after that. Doesn’t look like you’ll be earning any money to put into the family pot for a long time yet!”

  “Dad!” Victoria cried. “You don’t mean that, do you? You know I’ve wanted to go to university since I started the Grammar school!”

  “Of course I don’t mean it, you daft ha’pporth.” Jack grinned at his daughter. “I’m only kidding you. I’ll be as proud as punch when you get your place in a university! Just think. My daughter, university educated and me hardly able to put two words together. You could end up running the country, you could, once you’ve got a degree. There’ll be no stopping you.”

  “I don’t think I want to run the country, Dad. Anyway, can you imagine it? A grocer’s daughter running England! It’s not very likely, is it?”

  “Stranger things have happened, pet. And you’ve got the brains to be able to do it.” Jack smiled fondly at the girl, wishing that her mother would be kinder towards her. The lass was clever and bonny with it, but she never pushed herself forwards because her mother had spent all her life knocking her down. Jack couldn’t understand why Bia had such a downer on her only child, particularly when the lass was so biddable and pleasant. He’d heard about youngsters these days who went off on the back of motorbikes without telling their parents and got up to all sorts of things. Victoria wasn’t like that, but to hear Bia you would think she was the worst daughter in the world. Jack sighed. He’d given up trying to understand his wife about two weeks after he had met her. He supposed he really should intervene when Bia was in one of her ‘daughter-bashing’ moods but that would turn her bad temper onto him and he much preferred a quiet life. There were times when he thought he let his daughter down, but it was easier for him to say nothing and he had taken the easy way all his life. One day, though, Bia would go too far and he would have to put his foot down, but he decided to leave thoughts of that day until it arrived.

  Victoria gave her father a hearty kiss on his cheek and then swept upstairs with Nana’s breakfast on a tray. She was eager to find out as much as she could that morning before Mr Vine’s visit, because thoughts of what had happened in the warehouse had been on her mind since the day before, when her mother had called her away from Nana’s bedroom.

  “Good morning, Victoria.” Nana was sitting up in bed, w
rapped in her favourite pink bed jacket, when Victoria entered the room. “Can you stay this morning or do you have to work in the shop?”

  “I can stay, Nana,” Victoria answered. “Mam says I can stay with you all day again, so that means I can let Mr Vine in this afternoon when he comes. Are you up to telling me the rest of the story or will it be too painful for you?”

  “To be truthful, Victoria,” Nana answered, “I’ll be glad to get it all off my chest. I’ve carried memories about that night around with me for more than half a century and the anger and the sadness have eaten away at me. I feel refreshed that I can finally get it all out into the open. Just let me finish this cup of tea and we’ll begin again.”

  Victoria moved the tray with the breakfast pots on it and settled herself into the comfy chair next to Nana’s bed, eager to hear what happened next. Nana finished her tea and then composed herself for the next instalment, eager to tell it but wary of rushing in and missing out any vital parts.

  “The pig butcher thought I’d brought Peter and Sam with me to the warehouse so that I could use them as muscle to overpower him. That had been the last thing on my mind. They had come with me to help me, but as far as I was concerned, I was the one who was going to dish out the retribution that night. It never crossed Dennison’s mind that I was an enemy, because he tarred all women with the same brush. To him, all women were weak creatures who needed a man to get them through life and he didn’t look at me as a source of danger. That was a daft thing for him to do, particularly after the embarrassment he’d had when he had fallen into our tin bath, but any tiny handle I could get on the situation was a plus as far as I was concerned. He would underestimate me at his own cost.”

  “When he threatened to choke William if Sam and Peter tried anything, both of them moved a step away from the butcher and William, as though to give Dennison breathing room. But I wasn’t stepping backwards, no matter what the cost. He’d done his worst to me already; nothing else could come close to the pain I felt through losing Simon. As far as my involvement in the situation was concerned, the pig butcher had already played his trump card and the thing about trump cards is that you can only play them once. From now on, I had nothing left to lose which meant I was ready, able and willing to play any trick in the book to make Dennison pay for what he had done to my son.”

  “I didn’t want to let go of Simon. What I wanted to do was to hold him close and just stop breathing, so that I joined him in that very attractive state of never having any feelings anymore, but I had to get my revenge first, before I could join Simon in death. And in order to get my revenge, I needed to be able to move about in the warehouse. With tremendous sadness, I laid Simon gently down on the floor, arranging his arms and legs so that he looked as though he was sleeping peacefully, then I slowly rose to my feet.”

  “‘Why did you do it?’ I asked. ‘Why did you kill my child? What have Simon or I ever done to you that could justify you killing my son?’”

  “I was surprised that I could speak and that my voice didn’t waver at all. I didn’t speak loudly but my voice was strong and steady and I drew strength from my ability to be able to conceal what I was really feeling. The ice daggers in my blood had all gathered in my heart and they crackled every time my heart gave a beat, but because my heart was so cold, the ice daggers couldn’t melt and I thought I would have them until I died.”

  “I waited without saying any more. I waited for the pig butcher to tell me why he had killed my baby, because I knew there was more to this than the butcher’s anger at my turning down his advances. Even a madman didn’t kill because he had been spurned. Dennison waited before he replied, glancing from me to Sam and Peter and then down to William where he lolled on the chair.”

  “‘I think you need to ask your husband why I killed your son, Mrs Drinkwater,’ he said, giving the red cord a yank as though he wanted to encourage William to speak. ‘I’m sure he’ll be able to explain it all to you.’”

  “I was thrown by this remark, because it was the last thing I was expecting. I was so sure that he had killed Simon and was threatening to kill William because of something he had imagined I had done, that telling me that William knew why he had done it threw me off kilter. I glanced across at William, assuming that he would tell me what Dennison meant, but William had his head hanging down and wouldn’t look at me. I looked back at the pig butcher and saw that he was smiling to himself, although there was precious little humour in that smile.”

  “‘Come on, William.’ Dennison snarled. ‘Your lady wife is waiting for an answer to her question. She wants to know why I killed her little boy and you know why I did it. I know you do. It’s only polite for you to answer the lady and put her out of her misery.’”

  “Dennison yanked on the red cord again but, although he groaned as his airway was squeezed, William still refused to say anything. I couldn’t stand the tension of waiting in that dimly-lit room for William to speak, so I asked my question again.

  “‘Why did you kill my baby, Mr Dennison?’ I said, my voice now emerging louder and even stronger than before. ‘What reason can you possibly have had to justify murdering my son?’”

  “‘Don’t you get shirty with me, Mrs High-and-Mighty.’ Dennison sneered. ‘Just because you think you are too good for the likes of me, you’re in no position to demand answers from me. I’ll decide what is and isn’t spoken about in here, not you. Do you get that?’”

  “I very nearly went for his throat then, but I was aware that I didn’t have a weapon to use on him and he was too physically strong for me to be able to do any damage to him without one. But I could do what I had done before, in my back yard when I had faced down the bully in him, so I moved closer to him, never letting my eyes waver from his face and displaying the magnitude of the disgust I felt for him. He couldn’t move backwards through the table he was sitting on, but he very definitely pulled away from me. To cover this moment of apparent weakness, he decided that he would speak and answer my question, although the sneering tone didn’t change.”

  “‘He doesn’t want to tell you himself, so it looks as though I’m going to have to do it for him.’ He jerked the cord again, so that William’s head rose and fell, almost as though he was nodding agreement with Dennison’s words. ‘Has he ever told you how he lost his arm?’”

  “Once again I was placed at a disadvantage. I had no idea how William had lost his arm. I had never asked him about it, partly because I didn’t want to make him relive what would obviously be a painful memory and partly because I had shut out of my mind anything to do with the war once William had enlisted. William had never proffered the information himself and the time for enquiring about it had passed.”

  “But Dennison continued speaking, so I had to put all feelings of being at a disadvantage out of my mind and concentrate, because I didn’t know when the opportunity would arise for me to wreak my revenge on the pig butcher. I was still acutely aware that a weapon in the form of my butchery knife was still out of my reach until I could get to the cold store and grab it, so I had to have all of my faculties working at full power so that I was ready to take any action that was necessary. I didn’t want to miss any opportunity to strike because I may only get the one.”

  “Did your beloved husband tell you that he was considered a real hero when he was over there in France, fighting the Bosche? More importantly, did you believe him when he told you what marvellous deeds he had accomplished over there? Or did you think that these tales of derring-do didn’t ring true coming from a little weasel of a man like him? What did he tell you? Answer me, woman!”

  “He was working himself up into a real rage and I was sure that he would lose control altogether when he reached a certain point. I toyed with the idea of pushing him until all he could do was to lose control, but decided that it would be impossible to foretell any reactions he may have if he was tipped over the edge, so I answered his questions.”

  “‘I’ve no idea what happened to William when
he was at the Front.’ I said, quietly but firmly. I had no intention of letting him think I was frightened of him. ‘I have never asked him how he lost his arm and he has never volunteered that information, so if you think he has been telling us tales of ‘derring-do’ as you put it, you are sadly mistaken.’”

  “‘Oh, Mrs Hoity-toity! You still think you are better than me, don’t you?’ he snarled. ‘Well, I’m going to educate you a bit about what your husband did while he was away at the Front and then, mebbe, you won’t be quite so high and mighty.’”

  “I looked again at William when Dennison spoke those words, but he still refused to lift his head and look me in the eye. I had no idea where this was leading, apart from the fact that it was obvious that William wasn’t going to come out of it looking like a hero, so all I could do was play along until a resolution to the situation presented itself to me. I glanced over at Peter and Sammy who were still standing to one side of the table, far enough away for Dennison to be comfortable that they couldn’t jump on him. Sammy raised his eyes to mine and leant forwards as though he was readying himself to spring on the pig butcher. Almost imperceptibly, I shook my head at him and his muscles relaxed and he eased himself back into a standing position. Peter was staring at Dennison as though in a daze and I wondered just how much of the situation his poor, sad mind had managed to understand. I muttered a silent rapid prayer that he hadn’t understood any of it, so that his ignorance would prevent him from taking any action at all. His was too pure a soul for it to be sullied by having any contact with the devil who was literally pulling the strings at that moment. I knew Peter had a very strong sense of what was right and what was wrong and I didn’t want him deciding that what the butcher had done was wrong and reacting in the only way he knew how, by attacking Dennison. It could take some time before Peter worked it all out in his head and I hoped that everything would be over and done with by the time his poor brain caught up with what had happened.”