Lily had thought that she started down this road with good intentions. She had wanted to ease her conscience before she died. She had wanted to make sure Peter would not be forgotten, and she had intended only to let the other woman know what had happened to her baby. She had imagined tears of gratitude, a plan to lay the child somewhere better. She had hoped for absolution. It had gone so badly wrong that, not only was she deeper in the mire of deception, but she had ruined another life. Anger built as she watched through the window – what evil there was in the world, and this was evil unpunished. It mustn’t stand, but for now, she wasn’t yet sure of what could be done, but if it was her last act on earth she would do whatever she could to avenge the two sons of Clive Robertson.
She didn’t know what she could say to Terry, how to make amends for the desolation she had seen on his face. She heard him walk back into the kitchen, through the hall, and then he appeared in the doorway.
“I don’t know what to do next, Lily. I don’t know which way to turn now. I should never have asked them to check my DNA. I was stupid and now I can’t undo any of it.”
“If you hadn’t done that, your intention was to face him with what he’d done. Can you not carry on with that?”
“Carry on, carry on…!” He had raised his voice and when Lily flinched he held up a hand. “Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just that I can’t even bear the thought of seeing him right now. Why is it that people like him get to live, Lily, and yet people like my mum have their lives ruined, and that poor little sod, my brother, didn’t even get a chance to grow up?”
“I understand. I think I understand anyway. But there is another way to look at this.”
“Another way. No, it’s there. It’s there in front of you on the table. There are no other ways. It’s there in black and white, proven by science. He is my bloody father.” He sat down heavily on the dining chair and Lily reached for him, but he didn’t take her hand.
“Terry, he always knew this. He knew he was your father. He must have done, but he doesn’t know that you have had these tests done. So, you can just carry on, you could do what you intended. Go to the police, if you want to. Report his abuse. Or, you don’t need to tell anyone else about this. You can destroy that piece of paper and never refer to it again.”
He shook his head before responding, “It doesn’t change it though, does it? Denying something doesn’t make it untrue.”
Of course, she had no answer for him because so much of her life had been about learning to live with exactly that.
“Calm down, just calm down. I’ll pour a drink. We’ll talk. I am sorry, I truly am, but Terry…”
He turned to her. Waited.
“Terry, don’t let it take your future. Let me help you to face him. If you must do that and maybe when you do, things will become clearer. You don’t have to speak about this to anyone else. Take your time. Stay with me, tonight. Stay here. Sleep here, and then tomorrow we’ll go together to Bath. We’ll go and see him.”
She wasn’t ready, but events had overtaken her and really, it didn’t matter. She wanted more than anything in the world to ease Terry’s pain, and she believed she knew how to do it. She had already played it out in her mind. Not the fine details, that wasn’t possible yet, but the intention.
“No, I need to go back. I have things to do. Thank you, but no.”
“Alright then, but I’ll come tomorrow, or the day after, whenever you say, and I’ll go with you.”
“Okay. Yes, okay. Tomorrow. Shall I come for you?”
“No, it’s an easy journey, I’ll be fine.”
And so the die was cast.
He didn’t stay much longer. He couldn’t settle. He needed to be moving, and she imagined it had been like that ever since he had read the test results. She let him go, there were things that she must do herself. She logged onto the computer and ordered a ticket for the train. Organised the rest of it.
She walked around the house. Remembering, taking it all in, firming up the memories. Then of course she went down into the basement. She told Peter her plans and sat for a while with him.
Although things were moving quickly, it didn’t matter. She was glad in many ways. It would all be over sooner, and that was good. She felt strong and she felt needed.
Chapter 32
Lily walked out of the station and over the Halfpenny Bridge. There was a grey heron fishing in the pond beside the lock. Crowds pushed past her, they didn’t see her, their busy lives rendered her invisible. She walked painfully onwards.
Later, when she had taken care of her tasks, she called Terry, and the phone went to his answering service. “Hello, it’s Lily. I’m in Bath. I can meet you in town if you like. I’ll go and find somewhere to have a cup of coffee. Just let me know when you’re ready.”
She went back to the place that she had used the first time. The quiet little tea shop. There was a band of pain around her chest; she was gasping for breath and her finger ends tingled. She sent up a silent prayer, not for ease, but only that she wouldn’t have to go on much longer. Just a little while, she needed a short while. She needed to stay strong.
She felt a frisson of fear. Charlotte Mary’s death had been difficult. The cries and struggle agonising to witness. She wouldn’t allow that to happen to her. She would manage it. All through her life she had been carried by the flow of events, that one final act would be hers to orchestrate and control. She had brought the pills with her, just in case she didn’t have the strength for the journey home. She needed to get back if it was possible, but had what people these days referred to as a Plan B.
She had placed her phone on the table and when it began to vibrate she snatched it up. It was him. “Terry. Hello. Did you hear my message?”
“Yes. Sorry, I was driving. So, you’re here early.”
“Yes, but don’t worry. I can wait until you’re ready. Are you alright, about this, I mean?”
“Well, let’s say I won’t be any more alright if I put it off. So, we might as well get it done.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She detected hesitation and wanted to give him the chance to back out, though that would be a complication.
“No. I just want to get on and scare the shit out of the old swine. Sorry for the language.”
She laughed. “Oh, that’s alright. Charlotte Mary used to swear like a docker. I never had her knack, but I used to enjoy the look on people’s faces when she did it.”
“You must miss her terribly.”
She had no answer. She missed something, surely. She missed the presence of someone in her life, because there had always been someone. She missed the quiet comfort of a companion to eat a meal with, and she missed the reassurance of having someone there when the pain was so bad that she was convinced she was about to die alone. There were times when she was beset by the idea that no-one would find her for days, and she would be sprawled, undignified on the carpet. But she wasn’t sure that she missed Charlotte Mary. She had been absent for longer than she had been dead, and even before that, they had become little more than a habit to each other, or perhaps a mutual crutch as the days shortened and the regrets were greater than the joy.
She had lost herself to the musing and was dragged back by his voice.
“Hello, hello. Lily, can you hear me?”
“Yes, sorry. It’s a bit noisy. Where shall I meet you?”
“Can you make your way to St Michael’s Church? Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, I think I can remember.”
“I can be there in about ten minutes. Oh, I just thought, you don’t know my car. It’s a black VW, a Golf.”
By the time the car pulled into the kerb and she saw Terry waving through the windscreen it had started to rain. She had forgotten her umbrella and knew that her hair would have frizzed with damp. She wasn’t vain, but in her mind was the impression she had been hoping to give, and a bedraggled old woman in a damp coat hadn’t been the plan. No matter, she
would work with what she was given.
Terry didn’t speak, he was stiff and pale with tension. His mood was catching and they drove in silence, out of the city and up into the countryside.
The nursing home was set in acres of lawns and trees, there was a lake and flower borders. As they walked under the stone portico and stepped inside the hall there was no smell of age and decay, which is what Lily had expected. Instead there was the scent of flowers, the clean smell of furniture polish, and the woman seated behind a reception desk wore a neat suit. The only indications that it was anything other than a smart hotel were the nurses walking with quiet purpose. There was a discrete notice which suggested visiting times and a schedule for when the doors would be locked, and callers would need to use the side entrance.
The staff wore what Lily had always thought were proper uniforms: dark dresses with neat white collars and black tights.
“It’s very nice, Terry.”
“Yes. It should be, it costs an arm and a leg.”
The receptionist had approached them, her hand extended. “Good afternoon, Mr Robertson. It’s nice to see you again.”
“Hello Rachel. How is my grandfather?”
“He’s having a good day. We had to have the doctor look at him yesterday, his blood pressure is a little troublesome at times. It’s a worry, but we are keeping an eye on it. The physiotherapist has put him on a different schedule and his mobility is improving. He may be well enough to have a trip away from The Grange in another week or two. Always providing he is stable of course.”
“Right. Well, that’s good.”
Lily saw from the woman’s reaction that she had expected more delight, more interest from Terry. He was struggling, she knew that, and he was subdued.
There was a moment of awkward silence. She clutched at her chest, suddenly, dramatically. Terry and the receptionist turned to her as she gave a groan. “Oh Terry, I’m sorry. I need to sit down. I’m sorry.”
They reached for her and helped her to a seat. They fussed. The receptionist suggested they call one of the nurses.
“No, no, really. Just give me a moment. I’ll be fine. Perhaps a drink of water?”
“Oh, of course.” The young woman ran through the door at one side of the hallway. She returned with a glass of water and was accompanied by a nurse who carried a case, or a bag, something medical and rather frightening.
Lily took out the spray, used it, and laid her head against the chair back. She closed her eyes. It was difficult for her to draw attention to herself in this way. Now that she had, however, she was confident that they would remember her.
Chapter 33
Terry had suggested that they come back another day when Lily might be feeling better. She saw in his face something of a frightened child, trying to be brave, but detecting one small chance of escape. This was her own first scary step along a frightening road, there was a chance still to pull back, but the days of cowardice were over.
“I’m fine. These attacks come often. They catch me unprepared sometimes, but the medicine works.”
“Is there nothing they can do?”
They were still in the hallway, he was bending close to her. The nurse and receptionist had moved away, but watched, ready to step in should they be needed. She smiled at them and lifted a hand, reassuring.
“There are some things they have suggested,” she answered Terry honestly, but didn’t tell him that she had made the decision to let the disease have its way. “I don’t really feel up to it at the moment. We’ll see what happens.” She patted his hand and then laid hers onto his arm and he helped her to her feet. They walked together up the sweeping staircase.
* * *
Terry didn’t knock on the heavy wooden door but neither did he burst in. He pushed it slightly open and stood to one side, so that he could look inside without exposing the interior to the corridor. He nodded, and pushed it further open.
It was a bright, spacious room. Pale walls, heavy curtains, and though the bed was a traditional hospital one, the rest of the furniture was beautiful old wood or smart upholstery. At first, she couldn’t see anyone, but the chair, pulled into the curve of a bay window, was occupied. Terry walked over to stand before the old man. He was propped up with pillows and a blanket had been draped over his thin knees.
Lily had tried to imagine what Clive Robertson might look like. She was still searching for an image of Peter, of what he would have become. This skinny, sallow-faced person, his sparse hair combed neatly, his face cleanly shaven, came nowhere near to what she hoped for. How could this frail creature have held such sway over his family, how could he have bullied his wife, his daughter, and his grandson in the way that she had been led to believe. Terry wasn’t a big man, but he was no weakling either. His body was wiry, but he was muscular and moved with the confidence of health and youth. But then, for most of it he had been a child, a frightened, confused little boy. Wasn’t it true that bullies weren’t always the biggest, they were just the ones who knew how to manipulate, and who didn’t let things like conscience and humanity stop them taking whatever they wanted, however they wanted.
As if he had read her thoughts, Terry moved to the table beside the bed and picked up a trifold picture frame.
“When he first came, they asked me to bring something like this.” He held it out to her. “They said it helped to motivate patients. Huh.”
He pointed. “That’s their wedding day, him and Granny. That’s my mum and me, later, when I was at school.”
She saw that years and illness had reduced what had been a tall, well-built, barrel-chested individual to the thin, old man who was now waking from the doze he had been in when they first arrived. The third image was Clive Robertson, standing alone in a grand hall, in evening dress, but there was no woman at his side in a glamorous gown. No wife leaned proudly on his arm. But he looked confident, sure of himself.
Terry stood beside her looking down at the images. “Happy families. Bloody hell, what a joke. He married my gran because her family had property. Once she inherited, he had her sign the management of it over to him, all for the best, all so that she wouldn’t have to worry about things like that, once she became a mother.
“Then my mum, when she was young, she couldn’t have friends over, she couldn’t go on school trips, she couldn’t go and stay with other people. He would say that Gran needed her, that it wasn’t right that she wanted to be away from the family. I think he used to hit my gran. I know I said he didn’t hit Mum but I was a kid, what did I know? I never saw it, but with Granny there must have been a reason, mustn’t there? There was something he did to reduce her to the way she was, she just shrank into herself, ignored him. Of course, he couldn’t let her go, she still ‘owned’ the property even though he managed it. She was on her own. Her mum and dad were gone. It’s isolation isn’t it, isolation that does so much harm. If you’ve no-one to turn to, what choice do you have? I think it’s better nowadays. There’s organisations aren’t there? It should help, maybe, but who knows?”
“But do you think your gran knew what he did to your mum?”
“I don’t think so. She was such a shadowy figure, it’s hard to know for sure. But I’ve told myself she didn’t. I’ve told myself that, because if she did, well, it makes it even worse.”
“How awful it’s been for you, Terry.”
“I coped. I thought I’d coped well to be honest. Especially since he’s been ill. I thought I’d won. I had the run of his property, I had access to a lot of the money. Even though he signs the papers, the flat is decent, better than decent, to be honest. It’s one of the ones he owns, but eventually it’ll be mine. I thought I was doing okay. Then you came, you came with that bloody piece of paper, and to be honest I saw that it was all built on sand. He was going to get away with unspeakable things, and I hadn’t done anything, and once he was dead, that would be the end of it. When you came to me it was like a slap in the face. No, it was much more than that. It made me see that if I
let him die…”
He turned now to look at the old man who was shuffling in the chair, trying to turn and see them.
“If I let him die without answering for what he’s done, then it would haunt me for the rest of my life. Regret. It would eat away at me. I had someone else to avenge, is that too strong a word, Lily?”
All she could do was to shake her head.
Clive Robertson drew their attention. He wasn’t impossible to understand, in fact Lily was surprised how ordinary he sounded. Yes, the words were slurred a little, the delivery was slow, but that was all. “Terry, who’s this? Who have you brought?”
Terry looked steadily into Lily’s eyes. She could tell that he wasn’t about to waste any time, that he was here for one reason and he was getting straight down to business. He pulled an envelope from the pocket of his trousers. He pulled out the two sheets of paper, separated them and unfolded one of them. He walked over to the old man in the chair and held out the DNA report.
Chapter 34
Clive Robertson reached out with a wrinkled, age-spotted hand. “Glasses, glasses!” He nodded and wagged his hand towards a small table positioned beside his chair. Terry leaned forward and picked up the pair of spectacles and handed them over.
The old man turned the paper, examined the back. A frown creased his forehead. “What’s this?”
Terry spoke quietly, “Just read it.”
“I don’t know what it is. Is it from the lawyers?”
“No, just read it.”
Clive turned and tipped his chin towards Lily. “Who’s this? What the hell is going on today? What are you up to, boy?”
Lily saw Terry clench his hands into tight fists at his sides.
“This is Lily. She’s a friend of mine. She came with me today because…”
It seemed to occur to Terry, quite suddenly, that he couldn’t really explain why she was there. He glanced at her, frowned, and then stepped nearer to the old man. He took the sheet of paper into his own hand. He leaned down and pointed at the typing.
BONE BABY: chilling emotional suspense with a killer ending Page 11