Deadly Practice

by Christine Green

  ‘I've come this far, Hubert,’ I croaked. If this was bravery I decided I didn't like the feel of it but when Roade showed me the bullet-proof jacket I was to wear I felt somewhat more courageous, and anyway I couldn't afford to look a wimp in front of all these men.

  I was helped into the jacket and then I began the short walk to the front door of the cottage. It had looked like a short walk before I took the first step but once I'd started it felt a long long way. I kept expecting to hear the crack of gunfire but all was silent save for my footfall on the gravel.

  At the door I stopped. It opened slowly a few inches only, then in one simultaneous action, the gun was thrown out and I was dragged inside. A lamp had been placed on the floor so the room was in muted light. Helena sat head down on the sofa. Neil, pale and sweating, yanked me roughly on to the sofa beside her.

  ‘You two have met. You two treacherous bitches.’

  I swallowed hard. Told myself I must keep him talking and every word I said must be thought out. Carefully rehearsed. Keep my voice low and calm.

  ‘Neil,’ I said. ‘I know you think that about us but perhaps you should be the one to explain to us the folly of our ways.’

  ‘Folly – huh! That's a good one.’

  I held my breath waiting for his angry explosion. Instead he laughed drily. This time I'd got away with it. Next time I knew that if I chose the wrong word it might be my last.

  Helena began sobbing, trying to stifle the sound with a cushion she held on her lap for comfort.

  ‘Shut up, shut up!’ yelled Neil in our faces. ‘I don't like that. I wasn't allowed to cry, remember – remember, do you?’ Surely, I thought, all this wasn't about him going to boarding school!

  Neil stood back slightly, everything about his face and body alert and expectant. He was like a rattlesnake still rattling but poised for the strike when it stopped. I had to say something to get him to talk, so I said carefully, ‘Sit down, Neil. The police will wait for us to come out, you know. We can all walk out of here together.’

  ‘How cosy,’ he sneered. ‘Do you really think it's going to be like that?’ Then abruptly he turned to pull the curtains aside and look out. He stood side on though, so no marksman could get a decent view of him. For some moments he just stood there deep in thought.

  Could we both charge him? I wondered. I touched Helena's leg and she looked up into my eyes. Her face was pale and tearstained and she'd bitten her lips in an attempt to keep herself from crying out, but it was her eyes that showed her real state of mind. They were blank. She'd given up. She fully expected to die.

  Neil swung round from the curtains. He was now holding a hand gun and smiling triumphantly. ‘Did the police really think I'd give up my only gun?’

  ‘Why, Neil?’ I asked, aware that my voice wavered. ‘Why all this, what's it all about?’

  ‘Ask the bitch sitting next to you. She knows. Come on – Mother dear – time to confess, isn't it?’

  Helena gazed into her son's eyes but fear seemed to have paralysed her and she didn't answer. Neil moved forward and yanked her head back by her hair. She moaned softly.

  ‘I'm waiting. Tell Kate all about it. Tell her how you hated me. Tell her how my father killed my real mother … tell her!’

  Helena began to speak then, tears trickling down her face.

  ‘You're wrong, Neil – very wrong. She died a natural death – a brain haemorrhage. I didn't even know your father then. I did my best to be a good mother to you …’

  ‘Your best! That's rich. What did you do? Insisted I went off to boarding school at eight years old. You knew I was disturbed. Good God, I was ill … depressed. Did you care? Of course you didn't …’

  ‘I couldn't cope with you, Neil. The tantrums, the stealing, the bedwetting, the lies, the running away …’

  ‘That's enough of that. Did my father want me to go?’

  Helena gulped, pressing the cushion to her mouth. I put my hand in hers. ‘No,’ she said eventually, ‘he didn't want you to go.’

  Neil began to pace up and down mumbling to himself. It took me a few moments to hear his exact words, which were:

  ‘I didn't mean to kill him he shouldn't have come at me. I didn't mean to pull the trigger and if he hadn't got in the way … it was all his fault all he had to do was keep quiet and listen …’

  ‘Your father's not dead,’ I said softly. ‘The doctors think he'll make it.’

  Neil paused in his pacing to stare at me. ‘I love my father … sometimes. He's been good to me. He wanted her back. Once she'd gone I had to come home, didn't I? I had to be here for him. One day I knew I'd find her. I'd got it confused and twisted in my mind about my real mother. I had no memories of her death until …’

  ‘Until when, Neil?’

  He stared at me, the same stare his father had given me once, as if not remembering who I was.

  ‘I went to see a hypnotist in Oxford …’ he began, then stopping, he pulled aside the curtain and stared out.

  ‘What did you find out, Neil?’ I murmured.

  He turned to face me. ‘I was nearly three, I'd wandered into their bedroom in the night. I'd just got to the bedroom door when I heard them shouting. My father was holding my … real mother, shaking her. She slumped down and then Daddy was on the floor beside her kissing her and banging on her chest. Oh, I know intellectually he didn't kill her but he was shaking her before. He had some responsibility.’

  ‘But you still loved him?’

  ‘Of course. I mean I didn't remember what I'd seen until I was grown up but it was all there in my subconscious … festering like some slow-growing abscess. When he brought Helena home I was nearly five. I did resent her and I have to admit that I played up, so that she would go away – instead, I was sent away. Years of misery then, of not being close to my father, but I survived. None of it was my fault after all. And then came the accident—’ Neil broke off, crouching down on his haunches, holding the gun in the palm of his hand, staring at it.

  ‘What accident, Neil? What happened?’

  ‘Simon Martin's death. That's when Helena left home. Could she have picked a worse time? Could you, Helena? Could you?’

  She gazed at him, her eyes filled with tears. ‘It was coincidence, that was all. I had to get away. I was going mad.’

  Neil smiled, the sort of smile I once thought charming. Now it seemed inappropriate and evil. ‘You should have stayed, Father needed you, but of course you had interests elsewhere, didn't you? Didn't you? Answer me.’

  ‘David was kind to me and discreet. The scandal of the accident would have wrecked the practice. I didn't rush from your father straight into his arms – I lived in Spain for two years – I hardly saw him.’

  Neil's expression tightened, he gripped the gun in one hand and with his free hand he clenched and unclenched his fist again and again. ‘My, my, how that must have rankled. In all that time though you couldn't even be bothered to send a postcard or a letter … I had to lie to save my pride.’

  ‘I thought a clean break would … be best. I did worry about you both.’

  Neil laughed, a dry harsh laugh and as he laughed his eyes glimmered with rage or hatred, I wasn't sure which.

  ‘The only person you ever worried about was yourself and your resentment of me,’ he said, ‘did you think I didn't know you wanted a child of your own? That's why you hated me …’

  ‘That's not true, Neil!’ Helena cried out. ‘I didn't hate you! How could I stay after what had happened? I blamed myself for that. I knew Simon, I liked Jenny. How could I stay?’

  ‘My father had to stay.’

  There was silence then, broken by Helena's ragged breathing, a clock ticking somewhere out of sight and the first sounds of the birds' dawn chorus. How much time had passed I didn't know. The police outside no longer mattered. The world seemed to have shrunk to this room and talk of death and the prospect of dying.

  ‘My father lost his peace of mind and you, because of one mistake,’ said Neil, sl
owly stroking the barrel of the gun with one finger.

  I suddenly felt very sick and shivery, I held on to Helena's hand as Neil continued to talk.

  ‘He should have stopped but it was the child's fault running out into the road. Father had to think of all of us. He told me that, he also told me you two had been drinking together and rowing. A patient had rung him and he'd gone out in the car. He couldn't have stopped. The impact was so great it was obvious the child was dead. He couldn't have done anything.’

  I managed to speak then. ‘So it was your father who was responsible for Simon's death?’

  Neil nodded. For a moment his eyes became blank but then he focused on me. ‘Yes of course. We tried to ignore the gossip about Helena but you didn't drink and drive, did you, Helena? Neither did my father, or at least, only the once.’

  Now that Neil was talking more I had to ask the question, ‘Why did you kill Jenny and Teresa?’

  ‘Why indeed,’ answered Neil dully. ‘I didn't plan it. That night my father entertained Teresa. Jenny came to collect her. Jenny had been busy following Helena. I'd read her diary at the house when I was doing some odd jobs. I'd known a few weeks, that's all. I realized if they harmed Helena it might come out that she was not the driver. And anyway I didn't want Helena to go to prison – I wanted it to be as it was before. Teresa was the real obstacle – she wasn't good enough for him. She was a trollop – she was just playing with his affection. He didn't love her of course. He wouldn't have married her. I wasn't prepared to allow my father to marry again. I thought with those two out of the way Helena could come home and we'd be a family again.’

  ‘And Geoff Martin? Why did he have to die?’

  ‘I reasoned once he was over the shock he might go after Helena. No one guessed, you see, that it was my father who killed Simon.’

  ‘And David Thruxton? Didn't you see him as an obstacle?’

  ‘He knew all along. He liked the practice, he didn't want to lose his relatively easy life. Once Jenny and Teresa were out of the way I could have dealt with him.’

  I fell silent for a while. It was growing lighter outside. My mouth was dry, my leg muscles tight and knotted. I wanted this to be over. ‘Shall I make some tea?’ I asked.

  Neil stared at me and then smiled. ‘Helena can make the tea. Go on, Helena – I'll watch you.’

  Trembling, Helena stood up and with uncertain footsteps walked towards the door. I couldn't get a view of the kitchen from where I sat but I heard the tap running and the noise of cups and saucers being moved. Neil had the gun at waist level pointing her way.

  ‘Neil,’ I murmured. ‘Tell me about the night you killed Jenny and Teresa.’

  He glanced towards me then turned back to watch Helena. After a few moments he said, ‘It simply happened. My father was saying goodbye to them both. I was watching. The phone rang, I heard them say to him to go inside and answer it, and I waylaid them. Jenny had already started the car engine. I asked if they would like to see my garden pond. Teresa was reluctant but Jenny said, “Why not?” So Jenny drove the car down to the summer house. My father obviously thought they were driving off. Jenny stood looking at the pond and the tadpoles while I took Teresa in to see the inside of my home. I killed her almost immediately. Jenny came in then and I was a bit panicky … sort of excited too. I had to kill her as well. I waited till I thought my father was asleep and then I quietly drove the car back to the college. I'd put Teresa's body in the boot of her car. And I was just about to deposit Jenny in hers when I saw someone watching me from the bungalow near the car park. I held Jenny up for a while talking to her, then I put her in the boot. I drove off in Teresa's car, and abandoned it in woodland a few miles away. Then I jogged home, had a bath, washed my clothes and went to bed for an hour or two. My father assumed I'd been in bed all night.’

  I sat almost mesmerized by the matter of factness of murder. Helena came in with the tray. Her face matched the colour of the milk. She placed the tray on a side table.

  ‘You can be mother,’ said Neil.

  With shaking hands Helena began pouring the tea from the pot. ‘No milk for me,’ I said, and as she handed me the cup I tried to signal with my eyes I was going to try something. She looked at me still terrified and uncomprehending. Neil sat down underneath the window, took his cup and put the gun on the floor beside him.

  As I held my cup and saucer my hand trembled and the cup chinked noisily on the saucer. ‘I think I will have milk,’ I said, moving forward to the table with the cup still in my hand. If Neil realized what I was going to do his face didn't show any concern, his cup was at his lips and as he swallowed I threw the whole of my scalding tea in his face. I heard him cry out, heard cups crashing around me, grabbed Helena by the hand and suddenly we were out through the front door and running. I didn't look back – but I did hear the shot.

  For a week I stayed in my cottage in Farley Wood. Hubert came every day to see me. I visited the dentist but found that once I could smile again I didn't have the urge.

  Roade and Hook came once and were more than pleasant. They had been suspicious of Neil all along but were short on evidence although they were amassing medical information. From the age of seven he'd had psychopathic tendencies but that is no crime and he'd never been in trouble with the police. He'd died instantly but his father was expected to live. It seemed Charles had known his ex-wife's whereabouts at all times but she couldn't cope with Neil and Neil was the main reason for the break-up of their marriage. Helena and Charles had done all in their power to prevent him from finding Helena's whereabouts. For many years she had been terrified of him but Charles had always found excuses for his son's behaviour. Charles felt that with Neil near by he could protect his wife, whom he still cared about, and keep a watchful eye on Neil's mental state. His first concern on coming off the ventilator had been for Neil. Perhaps their son had loved them too, in his own twisted way.

  Physically and mentally I now felt exhausted. I didn't sleep well: the nightmares kept me awake, I wasn't interested in food although Hubert tried to tempt me with strawberries and fresh salmon.

  ‘You're in a post-violence depression,’ Hubert told me with a worried expression. ‘You should see a doctor.’

  I ignored him. He threatened to bring Danielle to see me. I even ignored that.

  ‘I'm a failure,’ I said. ‘I'm giving up. I'm leaving Longborough. I'll pack up the office on Monday.’

  On Monday I arrived at Humberstones', and walked slowly up the stairs and into my office. On my desk sat a huge vase of flowers and beside them an answering machine – new and sparkling and with a flashing light to indicate a message. I switched it on. It was Hubert.

  ‘Hello, Kate. This is Hubert speaking,’ he said as if I were that stupid. I waited, expecting a message of goodbye and it's been nice knowing you et cetera but there was nothing. Blank. Zero. Silence.

  As Hubert walked up the stairs I began to laugh, a little hysterically but it was a laugh.

  ‘What's so funny?’ asked Hubert. ‘I thought my farewell speech was pretty good.’

  ‘I expect it was, Hubert – but it didn't come out. All that came out was “This is Hubert speaking.”’

  ‘Bloody thing,’ said Hubert, giving it a bang with his fist and then looking disappointed when there was no response.

  ‘Where did you get it from, Hubert?’

  ‘A car-boot sale. The bloke who sold it to me said it was top of the range. It cost me a tenner!’

  I began to laugh again. ‘You're priceless, Hubert. I'd miss you so much.’

  ‘Does that mean you'll stay?’

  I nodded.

  He beamed, his face all smile and pallid creases. ‘Come on, Kate, I'll buy you chicken and chips down the Swan.’

  ‘How can I refuse?’ I said. ‘After all, Hubert, I'm counting my blessings. Food, drink, a decent pub, an answering machine that doesn't work, body parts still intact and you for a friend. What more could I ask?’

  Hubert shrugged. ‘A fe
w thousand in the bank?’

  I smiled and linked my arm in his and we made our way downstairs together.