The Godson's Legacy

by Gait, Paul;

  The picture of the smart looking James was replaced by the surveillance photo of a tramp sat on a London park bench clutching a bottle.

  ‘So he has changed too.’

  A ripple of amazement went around the room. Heads swivelling to see where James was sitting. James put his hand up to his face and looked down, seeking obscurity.

  ‘James was helped by my young friend Ben.’

  The tramps picture was replaced by one of Ben on his mountain bike.

  Ben ‘filled up’ at being identified publicly as one of Geoffery’s friends. His association with Geoffery had started only after a mysterious fire had destroyed their Scout Hut, in which Ben was sleeping at the time.

  Geoffery had paid for a bigger and better hut and made sure any suspicions that Ben had caused it were categorically refuted by presenting evidence of an electrical fault, that was supposed to have caused it.

  Geoffery had also been funding Ben’s Mother’s treatment at an addiction clinic; her problems if left untreated could have seen Ben being taken into care.

  Ben was upset at seeing and hearing Geoffery. James saw his distress and sought to reassure him.

  ‘Bit of a shock seeing him isn’t it?’ But, the old boy is in a better place now,’ he whispered.

  Ben nodded, still gazing at the screen through misty eyes.

  Geoffery’s on screen persona continued, ‘Ben has had lots of challenges in his short life, but he has not allowed things to get on top of him. Indeed, he saved James’s life and has desperately tried to help his Mother get off the alcoholic bandwagon.’

  But Beth was not watching the screen. She was distracted by the attentive waiters constantly circulating, offering drinks from silver trays. She was therefore totally oblivious to anything else. The temptation of free alcohol was torture for her.

  At the start of the wake her resolve had been strong, but she felt herself weakening. ‘Just one to toast the old man,’ she thought, ‘wouldn’t harm.’

  Ben’s picture was replaced by an unflattering photograph of Beth obviously drunk. Her reputation for meticulous attention to hair and makeup all but destroyed.

  Suddenly spotting herself on the screen, she felt it was necessary to defend her image. ‘It’s not easy being a mother,’ Beth muttered, embarrassed by the exposé.

  ‘Having now met my Godsons, you also need to meet the man who has helped me to get some quality out of my last remaining days. This is my hospice nurse and friend Andy Spider.’

  Andy’s picture appeared on the screen in his Scout uniform.

  ‘For as well as being a good nurse, he is also a good Scout Leader. Andy runs a Scout Troop in a deprived area and he gives respect to his young people who respond likewise. He provides something positive in their lives, so they can grow their self-worth and confidence.’

  Andy unused to public praise coloured up, fortunately unseen in the gloom.

  ‘Right, so you’ve met each other. It’s time for me to get back in the box, so to speak.’

  The screen showed Geoffery in his coffin at his mock funeral in Monaco.

  ‘Oh it would be remiss of me not to thank my beautiful ‘Long Legged Lovelies’. It was a pleasure I wish I’d had again.’

  The girls all giggled at the photo of them posing by his coffin.

  ‘Until we meet again. Yes, you’ll be seeing me again at the reading of my will. Just because I’m dead, you can’t get rid of me that easily.’

  The screen went black and the lights came on. The shocked silence collapsed into a buzz of astonished conversation.

  Nadine felt slightly hurt that she wasn’t mentioned in the video, but her mood changed when the Funeral Director handed her a note.

  Nadine recognised Geoffery’s handwriting. She went to a quiet corner of the huge conference room clutching it to her heart. She looked at it for several minutes, unsure whether to open it or not.

  ‘What would he have written? Did he hate her even now? Should she live with the delusion that he forgave her?’

  Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she tore open the envelope, her polished finger nails slicing apart the gummed flap. Inside was a single sheet of paper. Immediately she smelt her special perfume, the essence especially commissioned by him, for her, all those years ago. The delicate scent had stained the paper like tear drops in the ink. She gazed at the few words that he had written. It took a few minutes for the mistiness of tears to clear to allow her to focus on the content. Her heart stopped as she read.’

  My dearest darling Nadine,

  I have always loved you. He had crossed out. I have loved you until my dying day. I will love you for eternity, even in heaven.

  Geoff. XXXX

  Her loud sob instantly stopped the conversation in the room.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  23rd December

  As soon as the video had finished, Andy went to find Rupert. He was sitting in a corner with Joanne wondering when he could leave; embarrassed by being in the company of strangers and now fearful because of Geoffery’s reminder about Sue.

  Andy cleared his throat, wondering how he was going to be received.

  ‘Rupert, Joanne, Hi. Umm…I wonder if I could have a word with you Rupert?’

  ‘Yes?’ Rupert said, nervously scanning the other’s eyes for any hint of the topic.

  ‘Alone, if that’s OK,’ Andy said, looking at Joanne.

  ‘No, that’s OK. Jo knows what’s been going on. We have no secrets,’ Rupert said, squeezing her hand and looking at her for confirmation.

  ‘Yes, that’s OK,’ she replied, quietly.

  Andy drew up a chair, turned it around and straddled it facing them, the chair-back against his chest, a psychological defence to deflect the expected angst.

  ‘Mmm…I’m not sure where to start, but…mmm, I think…Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Sue has been released from custody.’

  ‘What!’ Rupert gulped, standing nervously, scanning the room.

  ‘Yes, I’m sorry…but…’

  ‘How? Why? Oh God this is terrible. Terrible.’

  Joanne stood too and put her arm around Rupert who was now visibly shaking.

  ‘It appears that in his efforts to help you to remove Sue from your life, Geoffery stitched her up.’

  ‘Stitched her up, what do you mean?’

  ‘He encouraged her to help him commit suicide and then accused her of trying to murder him.’

  ‘Suicide! I don’t understand.’

  ‘What, I mean…how do you know all this?’ Joanne asked, anxiously.

  ‘From a CCTV recording.’

  ‘Surely the evidence was…’

  ‘All cleverly devised to get her committed.’ Andy said completing her sentence. ‘It’s difficult for me to say this but I…went to the Police with new evidence that cleared her.’

  ‘Why? What did you do that for? You knew she was torturing me! Why the hell would you set her free?’ Rupert demanded, hysterically. ‘Oh God. I can’t go through all that again. We need to go,’ he said, grabbing Jo’s hand.

  ‘No, please let me explain.’

  Rupert wasn’t listening. His mind was overwhelmed by fear. He needed to run and hide before she tracked him down again.

  ‘No time. Come on Jo, we need to hurry.’

  ‘Rupert, please listen. I need to explain,’ insisted Andy.

  ‘I’ve heard enough. She’s out. Oh God, Oh God!’

  Rupert was struggling to put on his winter coat as he walked rapidly to the door, followed by a frantic Joanne, trying to keep up with Rupert’s half walk, half run exit.

  Andy chased after the departing couple.

  ‘Please let me explain, please,’ he pleaded.

  ‘There’s no point. She’s out there somewhere. She’ll be waiting.’

  His words were prophetic, for Sue was in the car park. She had found out where the Wake was being held by telephoning the Funeral Director’s office, where a sympathetic receptionist was only too happy to ‘redire
ct the lost mourner’.

  Sue couldn’t believe her luck as she watched Rupert and a woman hurriedly exit the front of the hotel and get into his car.

  Instinctively she ducked as their car drove past her out of the car park and shot off down the drive.

  Andy had followed them out still trying to explain what had happened and saw the black Polo tear out of the car park just after them, but thought nothing of it.

  ‘Damn,’ he said, angry with himself, for letting Helen talk him into handing in the recording. ‘Shit, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy.’

  Andy was making his way back into the Wake just as Nadine came out.

  ‘Ah, Andee,’ she said, her franglais accent much more pronounced with the volume of champagne that she had consumed.

  ‘I ’ave to zank you zo much for looking after my Geofferee, Merci.’

  ‘It’s OK, he said. ‘It was my job and well…we became sort of friends.’

  ‘I see zee lights on zee Church where ‘e is sleeping now…but he will nevver awaken again,’ she said, looking into the distance.

  She broke into alcoholically exaggerated tears and stumbled towards him to bury her face in his chest. Initially he hesitated to comfort her, fearing a repeat of the incident when Helen found them previously at the top of the hill. However his compassionate nature overcame his reluctance and just as he enfolded her petite sobbing frame in his arms, Helen arrived at the hotel entrance. His heart sank.

  ‘This is getting to be a bit of a habit, isn’t it?’ she said, angrily.

  ‘I can explain,’ he shouted as she disappeared back into the hotel.

  ‘I am zorry for getting you into trouble ma Cherie,’ Nadine said, planting a kiss on his lips. The kiss lasted marginally longer than it needed to, until he, reluctantly, pulled away.

  ‘I need to go, I’m sorry.’ Andy said, moving towards the door.

  ‘But of course. You must explain to your wife. I will stay and talk to ma Geofferee,’ she said, wiping her tears with the heel of her hand.

  CHAPTER NINE

  23rd December

  Rupert and Joanne had joined the M5 at junction 11a heading south towards Bristol. The motorway, a black ribbon between the frost coated fields, was busy with Christmas holiday traffic.

  Rupert was now paranoid that Sue might be following them and kept constantly checking his rear view mirror. He had spotted the headlights of a car following them from the hotel but was relieved to see, when they went through lit road sections that it was a black VW Polo and not Sue’s blue Peugeot.

  ‘I’m sorry about your uncle,’ Joanne said, sympathetically.

  ‘I didn’t know him too well, but I guess he came along at the right time. I couldn’t have broken away from Sue without his help.’ Rupert said, his eyes fixed on the road ahead.

  ‘Let’s not talk about her. The day has been depressing enough.’ Joanne said, firmly. ‘What about us?’

  ‘Well as soon as the divorce comes through, I was going to ask you to marry me Jo.’

  ‘Marry you? Oh!’

  ‘Don’t you love me?’

  ‘Yes, of course…it’s just that…’

  ‘Just, what?’

  ‘I’m not sure marriage is for me anymore. You know I’ve been married before…twice and it didn’t work out either time.’

  ‘What! I thought every woman likes the security of marriage.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right, but not for me any longer. Did I tell you I got married in a boiler suit over a river bungee jump in New Zealand. It was exciting at the time, but it didn’t work out.’

  ‘But presumably you loved him then?’

  ‘Yes, but as soon as we got married things suddenly fell apart. It’s as though we didn’t try anymore. I don’t want that to happen to us. I’m sorry.’

  ‘OK, I just thought…I need you, don’t want to lose you. It’s just…I love you Jo,’ Rupert croaked.

  ‘Are you OK to drive?’ Joanne asked him, anxiously.

  ‘Yes I’m fine,’ Rupert said, unconvincingly.

  In the flashes of approaching car headlights she could see that he was crying. A tear ran down his bruised cheek, his face still bearing the results of Sue’s anger. He was blinking furiously to clear his misty vision. He bit his lip to control his chattering teeth. His knuckles were white as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

  The car behind them followed at a discreet distance. Sue was wondering how to exact her revenge on her ‘disrespectful’ husband.

  ‘Pull over Rupert, please,’ Joanne said, anxiously.

  ‘I can’t. It’s too dangerous to stop on the hard shoulder,’ he replied, his voice choked with emotion.

  ‘It will be more dangerous if you crash into something,’ she said, putting a gentle hand on the back of his neck. ‘Please pull over,’ she repeated softly.

  After a few seconds, she saw his fingers move on the steering column and heard the clicking of the indicator as he steered the car on to the ‘hard shoulder’.

  As soon as they stopped, she immediately pressed the red triangle on the dash to activate the hazard lights.

  I’m sorry Jo,’ he said, turning to her and dissolving into her arms.

  ‘The funeral and now this, about her being free…It’s all too much, I’m sorry,’ he blurted.

  ‘Ssssh, it’s OK,’ she whispered.’ You’ve been through such a lot recently. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this together. Come on, let’s change places and we’ll stop at Michael Wood Services and have a coffee. OK?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Now be careful opening your door. You know what motorway drivers are like.’

  As if to emphasise her concern, the car rocked on its suspension as a large Downton forty tonner sped past, heading back to its base in Hardwicke.

  Sue had been taken aback by Rupert’s manoeuvre onto the hard shoulder, but had quickly mirrored his actions a few hundred yards back; switching off her lights, so as not to alert them to her presence.

  Looking in his rear view mirror, Rupert spotted a gap in the traffic and quickly they swapped places and belted back in again.

  Joanne switched off the hazard lights and started to accelerate along the hard shoulder, indicating to pull back on to the carriageway.

  On seeing the car moving again, Sue started her own manoeuvre to continue shadowing them.

  Desperate to ‘stay in touch’; instead of getting up to speed on the hard shoulder, she pulled out directly on to the carriageway, fully expecting that the approaching Discovery, would move to the middle lane and overtake her. However, in her haste, she had forgotten to turn her lights back on.

  Because her car was unlit, the driver of the approaching 4 x 4 spotted her only at the last second and instinctively took avoiding action, unfortunately swerving into the path of a Qashqai already in the middle lane.

  This set off a catastrophic chain of events. For the Qashqai driver instinctively swerved out into the third lane, his car colliding with the rear wing of a BMW which was overtaking him, travelling at 100 mph. The impact of their collision caused the BMW to slew around and smash into the central reservation.

  Joanne had just checked her rear view mirror to pull back onto the motorway when she saw the collisions occurring behind her.

  ‘What’s up,’ Rupert said, catching her open mouthed, transfixed by the mayhem displayed in the mirror. The sound of a car skidding answered his question.

  The BMW bounced off the central barrier and was sent pirouetting across all three lanes, smoke billowing from its protesting tyres.

  In a frightening explosion of noise, it collided with Rupert’s car, impacting just behind the driver’s pillar. The force of the collision pushing his car sideways from the edge of the hard shoulder, its tyres squealing as it was forced across the tarmac.

  It stayed upright until it hit the kerb edge and then was sent spiralling sideways several times, coming to rest on its roof.

  The BMW crashed down on top of Rupert’s car, its
wheels resting on the exposed floor tray, its ruptured petrol tank draining into the upturned car beneath.

  Soon other vehicles were involved in the carnage. A cacophony of disaster filled the night air with the ‘gut retching’ noise as cars and lorries collided with each other, metal scraping on tarmac, bodywork and glass erupting over North and Southbound carriageways.

  Strings of red brake lights illuminated the night as drivers sought to avoid the mayhem.

  Sue’s stolen Polo was hit in the rear and collided with other cars caught up in the road traffic collision.

  As all the southbound cars eventually skidded to a halt, there was a split second of absolute silence – and then the screaming started.

  Fortuitously, a Highways Agency Traffic Officer patrol was on that section of the motorway and had arrived at the scene within a few minutes. Their call to their control meant there was little delay before the specialist fire and rescue unit were despatched.

  Both Rupert and Joanne had been knocked unconscious by the impact. They hung upside down, restrained by their seat belts.

  Meanwhile, Sue had staggered out of the Gravediggers wrecked car, suffering from a sore neck from a subsequent rear end collision. She also suffered mild facial burns and a split lip when the airbag inflated as she was shunted into the wreckage in front.

  Shocked at the sudden turn of events, she crunched her way through broken glass that littered the road like hailstones.

  Ignoring the panicky advice of other shocked motorists and good Samaritans, who tried to stop her, she forced her way to Rupert’s upturned car and peered in, the strong smell of petrol making her eyes water.

  She smiled at the still bodies, dangling from their seatbelts.

  ‘That’ll teach you to mess with me, won’t it?’ she shouted at the unconscious figures.

  Pleased to see that Rupert and girlfriend were injured, possibly dead, she decided to leave the scene quickly. Not wishing to be involved in the police inquiry that would follow.

  As she turned to leave, she trod awkwardly on some debris and her ankle twisted under her, she felt something snap; with great relief she realised it was only the heel of her shoe.