The Tide of Terror

by Stuart G. Yates

And so it went on, Mrs Strickland only allowing Jenny single word answers before she would cut her off dismissively. In the end, Jenny simply gave up, allowing the teacher to answer the questions herself, while Jenny looked on, almost as a casual observer. But the last question threw them all.

  “Who was it who wounded the second hedgehog, Miss Jenny?”

  There was a stunned silence. Jenny peered at the owner of the question. It came from the back of the room. Everyone turned around to face the person, who stood by the main doors, arms folded, face very serious.

  It was Detective Sergeant Holding.

  “I know who it was,” shouted Leona Lawrence, and she stood up, hands on hips, with a look fit to kill. And she was glaring straight at Mrs Strickland. “And you know too, don't you Mrs Strickland.”

  Jenny stood at the main gates waiting for the home-time bell to sound. Beside her was Sergeant Holding. “Sorry if I caused a bit of a stir.”

  “I think you merely succeeded in getting a very intelligent, kind and gentle little girl into a lot of trouble.”

  “You mean her teacher, dragging her out like that? Well, she was rather rude.”

  “Rude? You asked the question – aren't you interested in the answer.”

  “There have been some developments.”

  “Developments? What sort of developments?”

  “Pathologist report. She'd only been dead around three days – not three weeks, like I said.”

  “How does that change anything?”

  “It might tie up the reporter's murder with hers, that's all.”

  “So, you think she killed him?”

  “Who? Mrs Charles?” Holding snorted, “Don't be silly, Miss. The woman could hardly lift herself off a chair, never mind murdering a grown man. No, she didn't kill him. But we think the same people that did for her, did for him too.”

  “People? You mean, you think there was more than one?”

  “Oh yes, absolutely. We know that for certain, you see.” He winked at her and made to go. Then he stopped, and turned to her again, tapping his bottom lip with his finger. “Interesting what she said though, wasn't it? The little girl?”

  “She didn't get a chance to say anything before that awful woman took her out.”

  “Mmm…nevertheless…interesting.”

  Jenny watched him go, feeling decidedly uneasy over what he had said.

  Leona walked down the path towards her front door, with Jenny behind her. Before they reached the front door, Mrs Lawrence pulled it open and ran out, taking her daughter in her arms and hugging her tightly.

  “I'm sorry, Mrs Lawrence. I didn't get chance to―”

  “It's all right, Jenny. Mr Richards telephoned me. She hit her, you know.”

  “So I understand. Leona didn't really say very much…but then, she didn't have to.”

  Mrs Lawrence had already seen the red mark on her daughter's cheek. “This is the last straw. That damned woman shouldn't be allowed anywhere near children. She should have retired years ago, we all said so. But Richards kept her on, he's so infatuated with her. Stupid man. And now this.” She hugged Leona, who was sobbing incessantly into her mum's shoulder, and tried to bite back the tears of her own. “She obviously knew something about that hedgehog. Why is she protecting whoever did it, unless it was her.”

  “No, I don't think it was.” Jenny thought it best not to reveal too much. “I don't know how, or why this has gone on. I'm going to have to be very careful, but I'm going to try and find out what exactly happened.”

  “Well, good luck, Jen. It's about time we all stood up and put a stop to all of this.” She kissed the top of her daughter's head. “That's what I'll be doing, when I file an official complaint.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Her mobile was beginning to ring as she got back into the van. It was Mr Tenchard. He'd called an emergency meeting of the rescue-committee for the following evening. Mr McGregor had been informed and he would be staying over after surgery concluded. Also Mrs Charles' daughter would be there. She was anxious to learn about what was going to happen to the animals that her mother had been keeping in her house. He assured her there was nothing to worry about, but Jenny couldn't help but feel concerned. Too much had happened too quickly and none of it felt right at all.

  The following morning Jenny was up earlier than usual. She took the first little hedgehog down to the railway track and released it in the undergrowth there, well away from any probable danger. As she watched it slowly waddle away, she felt a tinge of regret. She'd become quite attached to the little fellow, going in every morning, checking how he was. He seemed genuinely pleased to see her, which she knew couldn't be the case, but still…And now, as it dipped its nose under a bush, Jenny felt a tear running down her face. As she reached up to brush it away, the hedgehog re-appeared and simply looked straight at her. Jenny gaped at it. Was it actually saying 'goodbye'? She grinned. “Yes, you take care little chap,” she said quietly. Then she pressed a finger against her pursed lips and stretched forward, touching the animal's nose with the same finger. “Bye, bye.” She whispered as he scurried away; a feeling of irrational sorrow welled up inside her for a moment, overtaking her pleasure at seeing him restored to health. Almost like the wrench of a friend's departure. In the end, she had to accept the inevitability of it - he was gone, back to where he truly belonged.

  She sat there for a long time.

  It was, for the most part, a normal and predictable Thursday. Mr McGregor worked his way through the press of anxious owners with their pets, while Jenny assisted and tended the shop. It was not quite as busy as it had been on the previous Tuesday, but nevertheless there was hardly time for a break. When, finally, the last person had gone, Mr McGregor spent a few moments checking over the remaining hedgehog.

  “He seems a bit low,” he said, his voice sounding concerned.

  “Could be because his friend has gone.”

  “Mmm? Yes, yes it could be…You'd best keep a careful watch over him for the next day or so. Delayed shock is a terrible thing. It just strikes at the most unexpected times.”

  “I'm sorry about this meeting business.”

  “Can't be helped. Just a bit inconvenient. The wife had plans.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  Mr Tenchard, who was sitting at the head of the large, highly polished oval table around which everyone sat, called the meeting to order. He was shuffling together various papers. Jenny thought he looked much more tense than usual. She still didn't know why Tenchard had called the meeting and she felt apprehensive at the thought.

  A serious looking woman sat next to Tenchard, looking down, playing with her wedding ring. Jenny assumed it was Mrs Charles' daughter, come over from the mainland to sort out the legalities of her mother's death. She seemed drawn and very tired and Jenny felt deeply sorry for her. She must have gone through a great deal of emotional torment these last few days.

  “I'd like to thank everyone for coming at such short notice,” began Mr Tenchard, “Especially, Mrs Bennet, here,” he nodded in the direction of the stranger, “and Mr McGregor. Can I just, at this juncture, express our deepest condolences to Mrs Bennet for the loss of her mother, Mrs Charles. We're all of us, very sorry for your loss.”

  There was a murmur of agreement from the collected group and Mrs Bennet forced a little smile of thanks.

  Jenny, sitting next to Mr McGregor, then listened to the usual business matters of the meeting. She found them all exceedingly boring but, because this was an emergency meeting, much of the usual procedure was done away with. Mr Tenchard quickly ran through the minutes of the previous meeting, but then he told everyone that there was no agenda as there were only two items to discuss. The first, of course, being the situation caused by Mrs Charles's 'unfortunate' death. Mr Tenchard invited Mrs Bennet to speak.

  She moved around in her seat, naturally a little nervous and no doubt unused to speaking to an assembled group like this. Nevertheless, when she
did begin, her voice was surprisingly calm and assured. “I'd like to thank the committee, and the rescue-centre, for all the help they've provided over the course of the past few days. It's been very difficult for me, coming over here, in this situation. I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to just give a few details…” She glanced around the table and everyone gave little nods, or mumbles of acceptance. She smiled briefly. “Thank you. I hadn't spoken to mother for a number of days, she wasn't answering the phone. As you know, she was inclined to…drink. She'd been ill for quite some time, suffering from diabetes and she was on quite strong medication. Naturally, when she didn't answer I became somewhat concerned. But, as I told the police, this had happened before. Around six months or so ago, she'd gone on a bit of a…well, using the street term…bender…and she was unconscious when I came over. Just lying there, totally zonked…I'd been trying to contact her for twenty-four hours and naturally, I assumed the worst. But she was fine. When she came round, she was actually just like her old, cantankerous self.” A few people gave quiet little giggles at this. “So, I just assumed that this time, it was the same. Well, anyway, unfortunately, I didn't come over straight away. I left it, for another twenty-four hours. Of course, even if I had come over immediately, there would have been nothing I could have done.” She paused, taking in a somewhat ragged breath. “She was already dead.”

  Jenny had to look away briefly. The woman was talking extremely well, but her voice was beginning to falter now and the whole room was draped with a clinging mood of discomfort.

  “Well….the next day with still no reply, I telephoned the police. You know the rest.” She sat up, brushing away a lock of hair from her face. “But the animals…the poor animals. My mother was an animal lover, surprising as it may seem given what had happened. I'd like to express my thanks, once more, to the rescue-centre for re-homing the cats and the rabbits. The clearing out of the house…that must have been dreadful. But you have done a wonderful job and I'd just like the records to show that I will always be grateful for the assistance you gave. I know my mother would have appreciated it also.” She smiled directly towards Jenny, who returned the smile as her cheeks began to burn. “My mother had money. A lot of money. I don't know what happened to it, where it's gone. But when the police find the person who did this…well, I'd just like to commit the offer to the record, if you wouldn't mind. But I'd like to donate a considerable portion of that money to the rescue-centre. I can't say how much, because I don't know. But the selling of the house alone should accrue well over a quarter of a million pounds.” There was a stunned silence from the assembled committee members. “So…I'd like to commit one hundred thousand pounds to the centre. Thank you.”

  For a moment everyone just gawped at her. Nobody had expected this. Even Mr Tenchard, who was usually so erudite and eloquent was at a loss for words. It was Mr McGregor who spoke up, his soft Scottish brogue seeming to suit the mood of the meeting. “Can I just say, Mrs Bennet, on behalf of the entire committee, how deeply grateful we are. It is an extraordinarily generous offer, one which will be of enormous benefit to the rescue-centre. Thank you so much.”

  Slowly, one by one, the committee members began to applaud. Soon the whole room was filled with the sound clapping hands, and raised voices. Jenny was laughing and Mrs Bennet now looked quite bashful, holding up a handkerchief to her face, stifling a little cry. Mr Tenchard put his arm around her shoulders, his face beaming, and as she stood to leave, the applause grew louder. Still smiling, she rushed out of the room without a backward glance.

  “Well…” Mr Tenchard appeared quite breathless and he sat back in his chair, flushed. “What an astonishing turnaround. I never imagined…

  “It's going to transform the place,” gushed Mr McGregor. “What an amazing woman…who'd have thought that something so wonderful would have come out of something so awful.” He rubbed his hands together, “Well, I'm off to the hotel for a quick shower before dinner, then I'll―”

  Mr Tenchard held up his hand, the smile disappearing from his face. “I'm sorry, Bill…there's something else.”

  McGregor frowned, noting Tenchard's bleak looking face. He cast a glance towards Jenny, who shrugged her slim shoulders.

  “We've had a complaint,” Mr Tenchard sat forward, rummaging through his papers. “It's quite serious, I'm afraid.”

  “I don't need to ask who it's from,” said Jenny, sitting back looking glum.

  “No. Mr Morrison has written to the committee, complaining about undue harassment, threatening behaviour and verbal abuse…He has a witness, who has also signed the letter, which, unfortunately, is from his solicitor.”

  “His solicitor?” McGregor looked around, nonplussed. “But this is ridiculous! Jenny has only been―”

  “Ridiculous or not, Bill, it casts a very bad light on the centre. It seems that Jenny went round to his house the other day and confronted Mr Morrison about an injured hedgehog.”

  “Yes, that's right. I told him―”

  “According to Mrs Strickland, you threatened Mr Morrison and pushed him, causing him to stumble and fall.”

  “I did what?”

  “Then you swore at him, swore at Mrs Strickland and, apparently, informed them that the next visit they would be getting would be from the police, or if that didn't work, then they'd…and I quote, 'You'd better watch yourself when you're going home at night. I've got friends here, Morrison, so just be warned.' ”

  Jenny sat in her chair, stunned. Again, McGregor reacted first. “But…but this is obvious nonsense. I've known Jenny for…well, since the day she arrived. I interviewed her, for crying out loud. She's a wonderful nurse, is totally dedicated, and an asset to the centre and to this community. There is no way on this planet that she would have said those things.”

  “Well, it's all here, Bill. It's a sworn statement, presented to me by their solicitor only yesterday. It goes on,” he re-adjusted himself as he peered at the letter, “ 'If there is a repeat of this behaviour we will have no choice but to prosecute…' Then there's a bit about a 'restraining order'. Jenny can't go within fifty metres of Morrison's house. Mrs Strickland had to go to see her doctor, apparently, she was so shaken.”

  Suddenly Jenny sat forward, slamming down her fists on the table, “So shaken? So shaken that the following day she dragged a little girl out of the school hall and smacked her across the face And why? All because that little girl knows who injured the blond hedgehog that Mrs Fielding found. And I know it too, and when I've got the evidence, I'll prove it and prosecute him.”

  “No you won't Jenny,” said Tenchard in measured tones, “because you won't be going anywhere near him again. I know what I told you, but this letter changes everything. If you go near him, you'll be arrested. And if you're arrested, you'll lose your job.”

  “Well, I'll just make it easier for you, won't I? I resign – with immediate effect.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cradling the little hedgehog in her hands, Jenny sat at her window, looking down at the forecourt, for the first time since arriving at the place feeling alone and disillusioned. So much for being innocent until proven guilty, and with Mrs Bennet's words still ringing in their ears, the committee had seemingly taken Morrison's side. Sadness had long since given way to anger, and Jenny chewed at her lip, wishing there was some way that she could tell Morrison – and Strickland for that matter, exactly what she thought of them both. But she knew that would never happen, not now. It was all legal, all sewn up, and Morrison had won.

  Slowly she went back to her sofa and sat down. She looked at the animal curled up in her lap and wondered what would become of him now that she had decided to leave. There could be no going back; her public declaration had assured that. But she had no regrets. She couldn't stay in a place that took the side of an obviously cruel, sadistic, and dangerous individual.

  She jumped when her mobile went off. She saw it was Mr McGregor and she sighed, debating for a moment whether or not she should answer it. B
ut answer it she did, albeit reluctantly. What she didn't want was the vet trying to persuade her to change her mind.

  “Hi Jen. Look…I'm staying at The Bell. Why don't you come down, we could have a little chat…”

  “That's kind, Mr McGregor, but…well, I'm not really in the mood.”

  “Well, there's someone else here who'd like to have a word with you…Mark.”

  “Mark?” Jenny raised her eyebrows and she sat up, carefully putting the hedgehog on the seat next to her. “Mark Burridge?”

  “The very same. He's going home tomorrow. Asked if you could come and have a farewell drink.”

  She thought about it for a moment. “All right. But, Mr McGregor…no lectures, please.”

  “I'd never dream of it, Jen. Never dream of it.”

  The evening proved to be uneventful. Mr McGregor kept to his promise, not mentioning anything about what had happened at the meeting, not even Mrs Bennet's generous offer. Instead, they just chatted about the vagaries of the place, how such a small community was like a microcosm of any society anywhere, that surely it would have to change, that it was only a matter of time before it entered the twenty-first century. They laughed, the joked, they bantered. The evening flew by and soon it was time for them all to retire to their respective resting places.

  “Perhaps you could come to the airport tomorrow,” said Mark as he stood up to go. “It would be nice to say goodbye, to your face I mean.”

  “I've got to take Mr McGregor to the airport anyway, so I could pick you both up.”

  Mark pressed his lips together in a forced sort of smile. “Oh, good. O.K. then. I'll see you in the morning.” He shook hands with McGregor and went off to his room.

  “I rather suspect he was hoping to see you on your own, Jen.”

  “Pardon? Oh, don't be silly! He's just…just a friend. That's all.”

  “Single, so he said.”

  “So?”