The Three Kings

by Doris Davidson

  ‘She doesn’t like me,’ he growled.

  ‘What a thing to say! Of course she likes you, you’re her son. Up you go now, and let me get on with my work.’

  He rose to his feet slowly, looking like a dog that had been kicked, and Katie’s conscience pricked her. ‘Don’t go if you don’t want to. I just thought it would be something for you to do.’

  ‘If you want me to go, I’ll go.’

  He was back in less than a minute, his untidy, dark head bowed. ‘She said she wanted to be left in peace.’

  ‘You should have said you just wanted to keep her company for a wee while.’ Katie suspected that his mother was ill at ease with him, and wished that she hadn’t made him go.

  ‘I didn’t want to keep her company. I like it best in the kitchen with you.’

  She tried now to think of something to occupy him. ‘Would you like to pare some tatties for me?’

  Pleased to be asked, he set to the chore with alacrity, and when she next went over to the sink, he had filled a large soup pot with peeled potatoes. ‘There’s enough there to feed an army,’ she laughed.

  His face fell. ‘Has Sammy done too much?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll put what I don’t need into cold water, and that’ll save me having to do any tomorrow. If you want something else to do, pare some of the carrots you took in yesterday out of your sand box. About six would do.’

  When he had carried out this assignment, he said, ‘I’m really helping you, amn’t I, Katie?’

  ‘Yes, you are, but that’s all I need just now, and the rain’s off, so you’d better get back to the garden.’

  She shook her head sadly when he went out. What on earth would happen to him if she were to leave?

  Two days later, Katie had just risen when the row started, and she dressed as quickly as she could, wondering what was going on. Then she heard her employer saying, quite loudly, ‘You always managed to get somebody else.’

  ‘I should never have had to go to anyone else,’ Mr Gunn roared. ‘One of a wife’s duties is to satisfy her husband.’

  Katie could not quite hear what Mrs Gunn replied, but it sounded like, ‘No one woman would ever satisfy you, Angus.’

  The man’s angry shout of, ‘You bitch!’ made Katie take her shoes in her hand and run down the stairs in her stockinged feet, but even so, the man heard her when she arrived at the open door. She thought he’d had his hands round his wife’s neck before he stepped away from the bed, but his back had been towards her and she couldn’t be sure. He didn’t seem put out to see her, and walked past her with a smile and went into his own room.

  It was Mrs Gunn who was red-faced and flustered. ‘You must have wondered what was happening,’ she murmured, unable to meet Katie’s eyes. ‘What a fuss Angus kicked up because he dropped his collar stud when he was in speaking to me and couldn’t find it amongst the blankets.’

  Her hands had covered her neck, but not before Katie had seen the red marks. ‘Are you sure that’s all it was?’ she asked. ‘It sounded more than that to me.’

  Still keeping her eyes averted, Mrs Gunn said, ‘You should know by now how worked up he gets when anything upsets him.’

  Katie knew that, but what she had overheard had not been about a collar stud. However, as long as Mrs Gunn persisted in her unlikely explanation, she could do nothing … not that there was anyone to turn to. She fastened on her shoes and went down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

  When Mr Gunn came down, he said, ‘Marguerite called me in to look at a rash on her neck. It did seem a little red, so perhaps you should rub in a little ointment for her.’

  Katie was amazed by his effrontery, but he was staring at her as if daring her to contradict him. ‘I’ll do it after I’ve cleared up down here,’ she murmured. And little good it would do, she thought, for it certainly wasn’t a rash.

  The July day had been hot and sultry, and the thunder began about thirty-five minutes after Katie went to bed. She could not think what had wakened her until a garish light flashed briefly into her room. Her grandmother had ridiculed the fear of such storms out of her when she was very young, so she was not scared, just a bit uncomfortable. Thinking that she may as well clip her nails to take her mind off it, she leaned across to the little table to light the candle, then rose to take her scissors out of the chest of drawers. As she went back into bed, there was a low grumbling noise and she was quite relieved that it came from some distance away.

  By the time she had finished her manicure, the thunder was much louder but she blew out the candle, hoping that the storm would not bring rain, because she had to wash Mrs Gunn’s nightdress and bedding in the morning. She was about to rise to put past her scissors when her door creaked open, and thinking that Mr Gunn had taken advantage of the noise to come to her room, she remained as still as she could. If he thought she was sleeping, he might go away. Hearing no movement, she breathed more freely. She couldn’t have shut the door properly and the vibrations had made it swing open by itself.

  ‘Can I come in beside you, Katie?’

  It was Sammy’s voice, and she knew by its quiver that he was terrified, but she couldn’t let him come into her bed. ‘Go back to your own room,’ she told him, gently. ‘Thunder won’t hurt you.’

  Another, much louder, roll sounded, and he crossed the floor in two huge strides. ‘Please, Katie?’ he begged.

  ‘No, Sammy, a boy and a girl can’t lie in the same bed.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Just because.’ At the next vivid flash, he bent over with his hands covering his eyes, and she felt a shudder of fear run through her, too. ‘Sit down on the edge, then.’ She was quite pleased to have someone there with her, although she knew there was nothing to be afraid of.

  He had just plumped down when another peal of thunder made the whole room shake, and he jumped up and slid in next to her. ‘Sammy’s frightened, Katie.’

  His teeth were chattering, whether from fear or cold she couldn’t tell, so she put her arms round him and held him close. ‘My Granda used to tell me to count how long it was between hearing the thunder and seeing the lightning, and that tells you how many miles away the storm is.’

  At first, they could count as many as seven, then the interval between lightning and thunder became shorter and shorter, until they were coming simultaneously, and the ferocity of the storm had Katie’s teeth chattering, too. ‘It must be right above us now,’ she told the shaking boy. She was so glad of his company that she scarcely noticed his loud, adenoidal breathing close to her ear.

  After what seemed like hours, Sammy whispered, ‘I counted to three that time.’

  ‘It’s going away, thank goodness.’

  She waited until the night was almost silent before she said, ‘You can go back to your own room now, Sammy, but don’t tell your father you’ve been in my bed. He wouldn’t understand.’

  Reluctantly, Sammy swung his legs round. ‘I never tell him anything, anyway,’ he muttered, his bare feet plopping on the waxcloth as he padded out.

  Ashamed now of her own weakness, Katie wished that she hadn’t given in to it, and wondered if she could depend on Sammy to keep a secret. Turning to her other side, she was puzzled to find something hard digging into her arm, and smiled when she found it was the scissors she had been using earlier. She laid them on the chair at the side, and then snuggled down to try to get some sleep before rising time.

  At breakfast, Mr Gunn raised his eyebrows at her. ‘You survived the storm all right, Katie?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ She was conscious that Sammy was having difficulty in keeping still, but she didn’t dare do or say anything to warn him to keep quiet.

  Mr Gunn had a somewhat secretive expression, too, but he turned to his son. ‘It’s time you started work, boy!’

  ‘I haven’t …’ Remembering that he shouldn’t answer back, Sammy began again. ‘Can I finish my cup of tea first?’

  ‘Do not take too long about it.’

&nb
sp; The boy regarded Katie with some entreaty after his father went out. ‘Was Sammy good?’

  ‘You were very good,’ she assured him. ‘If you don’t annoy him, he won’t get angry with you. But you’d better go and get started now.’

  The thunderstorm having cleared the air, the sun, helped by a fresh wind, dried the washing quickly, and after she took up Mrs Gunn’s lunch, Katie spent most of the afternoon ironing. By the time she went to bed, she was fit to drop. She was thankful that the wind had died down, for it often howled like a banshee through the ill-fitting skylight and her body was crying out for the sleep she had lost the night before. It crossed her mind that she should prop the chair under the handle of her door in case Sammy came back, but she didn’t really think he would, and she was too tired to bother, in any case.

  She fell asleep within minutes, but the sound of the latch being lifted had her instantly on the alert and wishing that she had obeyed her earlier instinct to jam the door. ‘You’re not getting in my bed again, Sammy,’ she said, sternly.

  There was a swift intake of breath. ‘So I was right.’

  She realized, with mounting horror, that it was Mr Gunn this time. ‘I was certain I heard him coming in here last night,’ he said, his voice holding the satisfaction of a man whose suspicions have been proved correct. ‘You let me think that you were not a girl like that, and you do not know how pleased I am that you are.’

  Even at a month past her sixteenth birthday, Katie was still too innocent to know what he meant, but the memory of how cruel he had been to his wife made her defend herself. ‘He came through to me because he was scared of the thunder, that’s all.’

  ‘Do not try to pull the wool over my eyes, Katie, I was not born yesterday.’

  He was standing at her bedside now, panting heavily, and she shook in terror when he whipped the bedcovers back. She opened her mouth to scream but his lips clamped over hers and only muffled moans came out when he flung himself on her. His teeth grated against hers as his hands slid very slowly, but firmly, round her neck. Her skin shrank from his touch, and her heart almost stopped when she saw how wild his glistening eyes were … no, not just wild, unmistakably mad! He was going to strangle her! The same as he would have strangled his wife if she hadn’t heard them quarrelling and stopped him.

  Fighting for her life now, she writhed in desperation, but her struggles were to no avail; they even seemed to make him worse. His legs held hers firmly, his body imprisoned one of her arms, and she wondered if she should try to scratch him with her free hand, but her nails were too short to make any impression. Then it struck her; her scissors were still on the chair! Very carefully, she edged her hand over, and just as her fingers touched the metal, the man, with his mind on the pleasure he sought, forgot himself so far as to lift his head for a second – long enough for Katie to give a piercing shriek.

  His mouth came down again even more fiercely, his hands had slipped and were now gripping her breasts but she had managed to get hold of the scissors. Swinging her arm in a huge arc, she struck at his face, and he jumped back with a scream of agony when the blades tore down his cheek.

  ‘You little bitch!’ he shouted, trying to grab hold of the weapon before she struck again, but he had just prised her fingers open when Sammy charged in.

  ‘Leave her be!’ he screeched, yanking his father off the bed with a strength doubled by fury, and the scissors went skittering across the floor unnoticed by any of them.

  Pulling the blankets up around her, Katie watched the boy landing punch after punch on his father, who was trying to excuse himself by gibbering that he was only doing what Sammy himself had done the previous night, but nothing would stop the onslaught. He was edged back through the door, then the petrified girl heard a hoarse cry and a series of dull thuds. For a short time, all was still, then came the sound of returning feet, and Katie was certain that Mr Gunn had pushed his son downstairs and was coming back to finish her off. Cringing, she closed her eyes and waited, not daring to move a muscle as he reached the landing and came into her room. ‘No, no! Please, no,’ she whimpered.

  ‘It’s only me, Katie.’

  ‘Oh, Sammy,’ she breathed, holding her arms out to him and bursting into tears.

  This time it was he who comforted her, stroking her cheek with one rough hand while his free arm went round her. ‘Oh, Katie, stop crying,’ he pleaded. ‘Sammy’s got you now, so don’t be frightened.’

  He held her until her hysterical sobs quietened, then she said, still hiccupping a little, ‘Will you light the candle for me, Sammy? It’s on the table there with the matches.’

  He did as he was bidden, and turned to look at her in the flickering glow. ‘Did he hurt you?’

  ‘He’d have killed me if you hadn’t come in. Did you push him down the stairs?’

  ‘I didn’t know he was on the top step till he fell over. I was going to punch him some more, but he didn’t get up again so I just came back to you.’

  All Katie wanted now was to be left in peace. ‘Go back to your bed, Sammy. I want to sleep.’

  ‘He might come back.’

  ‘He won’t come back.’ Not tonight, any road, she thought. He would have had enough tonight, and she would jam her door every night after this.

  She gave a long, juddering sigh when Sammy left her. She wouldn’t sleep, but she couldn’t cope with him any more, not after what she had just been through. Her mouth felt bruised and unclean, her skin crawled at the memory of the silk-smooth, clammy fingers working like a snake coiling round her neck. She shuddered at the thought of those fingers squeezing the life out of her, which they would have done if she hadn’t managed to scream. Sammy may be simple-minded, yet he had run to help her the second he knew she needed him.

  Her shock was receding when she wondered how Mr Gunn was feeling. He deserved to be horse-whipped, but at the very least she hoped he was black and blue all over. She could picture him picking himself up off the first-floor landing and hobbling to his room … but she hadn’t heard a single movement since he fell, except for Sammy coming back. Could he have been severely injured? Had he broken his back?

  She had to make sure. She couldn’t leave him in pain, no matter how wicked he was. She wouldn’t even leave an animal to suffer if she could do anything to help it. Getting up, she lifted the candlestick and crossed to the door. In her agitation, her fingers could barely grip the little lever of the latch, but she eased it up without a sound, praying that the door wouldn’t creak as it usually did – she didn’t want Sammy to hear her.

  Tiptoeing to the top step, she looked down the narrow well of the staircase and nearly dropped the candle when she saw the figure on the landing below, lying as still as the dead. Her faltering feet took her down a few steps, but she halted when she saw the dark ominous pool round his head … blood! He really was dead!

  In panic, she raced back to the boy’s room. ‘You’ve killed your father, Sammy!’ she gasped. ‘You’ll have to run away, or they’ll hang you for murder!’ He sat up abruptly, his mouth gaping. ‘Get up, Sammy!’ she shouted. ‘You’ll have to go away from here!’

  ‘Where to?’ His voice cracked uncertainly as he pummelled his fists into his eyes to waken himself properly.

  ‘Anywhere away from here!’ she told him, urgently. ‘Get up and dress yourself!’

  His feet hit the bare floorboards with a resounding smack. ‘Will you come with me, Katie? Please, Katie?’

  Recalling her own attack on Mr Gunn, she knew that she couldn’t stay there any longer, either, and Sammy wouldn’t manage on his own. ‘I’ll have to dress, and all.’ She was going out when something else occurred to her. ‘We’ll have to take some clothes with us, just what we can carry.’

  After frantically pulling on her skirt and blouse, she put on her coat, slipped her feet into her shoes then wrapped a few things into her shawl and returned to Sammy. Fully dressed, he was standing looking helplessly at what he had set out on his bed. ‘I haven’t a bag to put them
in,’ he wailed.

  Shaking her head in irritation, she laid the candleholder on the floor, rolled his clothes inside a shirt and tied the sleeves together. ‘Carry it by the knot, like me,’ she told him, picking up her own bundle with one hand, the candle with the other and creeping downstairs in front of him.

  ‘Don’t look,’ she ordered, when they reached the landing, but neither of them could take their eyes off the body as they skirted round it. The face was bloodied – which was only to be expected after the battering Sammy had given it, and what she had done – but she could see now that most of the blood had come from somewhere on the side of the head.

  Sammy stared incredulously. ‘I just punched his face.’

  ‘He must have hit his head on something.’ She turned away and her stomach gave another sickening lurch. Mrs Gunn was lying in the doorway of her room, her face a ghastly grey, her eyes turned up to the ceiling, blank and unseeing.

  Chapter Five

  Transfixed with horror, it was some minutes before Katie’s brain started to function again. Mr Gunn had really been insane! He’d even killed his wife before he came upstairs to strangle her, and he’d likely meant to finish Sammy off, as well. Even though she had sometimes wondered which of them would be his first victim, she had always told herself that murders only happened in books and to stop being so fanciful. Glancing at Sammy, still staring down at his dead father in perplexed disbelief, she dragged him away before he could spot his mother. A second shock might make him go berserk, too.

  Once they were outside, she threw the candle on the ground and they ran through the woods at breakneck speed, stumbling over branches blown down in past gales. The sky was so black that Katie couldn’t see a thing, but Sammy – knowing every inch of the area – guided her through the trees and round stumps and whole trunks until she could run no farther.

  ‘I’ll have to … stop a minute,’ she gasped.