‘Oh, you won’t say nowt. That I can guarantee.’ As Adam spoke he swung his body and hit Silas full in the face with the club-shaped piece of wood, knocking off his cap.
Silas gave a hoarse scream as he dropped to his knees, clutching his broken nose which was spouting blood. He crumpled as Adam brought the wood smashing against the side of his head, his mouth frothing red bubbles as he tried to speak.
And then Adam really seemed to go mad. It wasn’t Silas Fletcher he was seeing lying curled up on the glistening frosty road but Jake. Jake, who had been a thorn in his side for more years than he could remember. Jake, who had scooped the jackpot while he spent his days grubbing under the earth like an animal for a pittance. Jake, who had killed Joe as surely as if he’d knifed him in the back and who had now taken Stephen too. Jake, who had Hannah waiting on him hand and foot every hour of every day . . .
‘Leave him be, man, that’s enough. He’s had enough. You’ll do for him if you’re not careful.’
‘I want to do for him.’ Adam brushed his father off as though he was swatting a fly before bringing the full weight of the wood whistling down one last time on Silas’s hairless scalp.
Silas’s body jerked upwards, as though a puppeteer had yanked the strings too hard, and then his legs scrabbled a few times before becoming still and a dark stain flowed out from under his head.
‘What have you done?’ Wilbur’s voice was a whisper in the silence that had fallen. ‘By all the saints, lad, what have you done?’ He glanced at Adam who was standing motionless, staring down at the figure on the ground. ‘What possessed you to go for him like that? We were going to rough him up a bit, you said. Put the fear of God in him so he skedaddled.’
Adam drew in a deep, heaving breath, his hands shaking and the wood hanging limp now. ‘He wouldn’t have gone.You heard him with Jake. He wouldn’t have gone.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘He might not be.’
Wilbur moved closer, making sure he didn’t stand in the pool of blood which had spread over the frosty brillance of the ground like warm honey over bread. He crouched down and put his hand inside Silas’s jacket. It was a full thirty seconds before he straightened up and then he continued looking at the body as he said, ‘We could go down the line for this.’
‘No.’Adam tugged his father away so abruptly Wilbur would have stumbled and fallen but for the younger man quickly steadying him. ‘No, we won’t.Think, man. No one knows we’re here, no one’s seen us. And him, look at him. He could be anyone, an old tramp even. There’s nothing to trace him to us. There’s not a soul’d think he’s Silas Fletcher, he’s played dead for thirty odd years, hasn’t he?’
Wilbur rubbed his hand over his face. ‘He’s not playing now.’
‘He had it coming.’
‘Don’t talk like that.’
‘It’s true and you know it. We’d never have known a minute’s peace while he was alive. He wouldn’t have thought twice about trying to screw us like he’s been screwing Jake.’Throwing the piece of wood into the side of the hedgerow, Adam said, ‘Empty his pockets.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. We can’t leave anything on him that might let on who he is.’
‘You want his pockets emptied, you do it.’
Adam was about to argue when Wilbur turned away and stumbled a few yards before emptying the contents of his stomach into the ditch at the border of the road. When the bout of nausea had passed and he had wiped his mouth, he turned to see Adam kneeling over Silas, going through the dead man’s pockets.
‘Look at this.’ The moonlight lit up the bunch of notes Adam was counting. ‘Jake’s been giving him ten pounds a time.’
‘That’s blood money, it’s cursed. Put it back.’
‘Oh aye, that’d be bright, wouldn’t it? What down-an’-out has this sort of money on him? Think, Da.’ Adam stuffed the notes into his trouser pocket along with a tobacco pouch and two or three keys on a rusty ring. When he had searched the body thoroughly, he stood up. As he met his father’s eyes, he said, ‘Don’t look at me like that, Da. I did what I had to do, that’s all. And he’s scum, you said so yourself.’
‘You’ve killed a man.’
‘A man who would have made all our lives a living hell without a moment’s hesitation if it suited him. Don’t ask me to play the penitent because I won’t. I’m no hypocrite, not like him in that farm up there. Now we make our way into town and call in the Friendly for a jar or two, right? We make sure we’re seen, not that this could ever be laid at our door. There are a hundred blokes who pass through these days since the slump started, going from town to town looking for work and sleeping rough often as not. But the pub’ll be our alibi, just in case.’
‘You always meant to do him in.’ It was a statement, not a question. ‘All this talk of frightening the living daylights out of him with a good hiding was just that, wasn’t it? Talk. Well, wasn’t it?’
‘What do you want me to say?’
‘The truth.’
Adam stared at his father. ‘He was a Fletcher, Da. The lowest of the low. I don’t know if I intended to kill him but the world won’t miss him, any more than it would miss that freak he bred. And don’t tell me you feel different to me. From a bairn you’ve told me how Jake threw everything back in your face you tried to do for him. Always thought himself better than us, taking one on the sly, causing trouble and putting the knife in.’
‘What about him, Jake? He knows this man was his father. What’s he going to say when his body’s found?’
‘Whatever else he is, Jake’s not daft. He’ll keep his mouth shut. Why would he pay out good money to make sure Silas remained dead and then say owt? Trust me, all right? Silas’ll be buried in an unmarked grave, another homeless vagrant who got done in by persons unknown.’
‘It’s a mortal sin you’ve committed the night.’Wilbur’s voice trembled.
‘Don’t come the Hail Marys, not with me. We both know you haven’t set foot in a church for years. Besides, God helps those who help themselves. That’s all I’ve done, helped you and Mam and the rest of us. And do you want to know something?’ Adam bent forward, the moonlight causing his eyes to glitter. ‘I’d do it again if I had to.’ He straightened his cap and tucked his muffler into his jacket. ‘Come on, we’re going to have a jar.’
‘You leaving him here in the road? Shouldn’t we shove him in a ditch or something? Try and hide him?’
‘He’ll be found sometime, it makes no odds when.’
Adam walked off, leaving his father dithering. After a few moments Wilbur followed after his son. He walked with his shoulders hunched and his head bent. Suddenly he looked like a very old man.
Chapter 26
The finding of a body on the North Hylton Road caused quite a stir north of the Wear, but nowhere more than on Clover Farm because it was Daniel who discovered it after seeing Naomi home.The police were called and everyone on the farm was interviewed, along with the residents of properties between the outskirts of Southwick and the village south of the farm. No one knew anything. The police who questioned everyone expected as much. Clearly the dead man was a ne’erdo-well of some kind, things of this nature didn’t happen to nice folk. Probably of no fixed abode, sleeping rough with others of his kind. Likely there’d been a fight and he’d got his comeuppance.Whoever had done the deed would be long since gone.
Such was the general opinion among the constabulary at the police station in Stoney Lane who were dealing with the event.Things might well have remained thus but for the appearance of a certain Sidney Benson three days later who came forward claiming knowledge of the deceased. The police took notice of Sidney because he was clearly scared out of his wits and worried the person who had despatched Silas might come looking for him. And that person, Sidney said, was the dead man’s son. Jake Fletcher. Leonard Craggs was really Silas Fletcher and the same Silas Fletcher had been blackmailing his son for weeks ever since he had returned to the area just b
efore Christmas.
Suddenly what had seemed a relatively unimportant murder in the scheme of things, a fight that had got out of hand between vagrants passing through the county most probably, assumed more significance. It aroused not only local interest but reached far beyond the boundaries of the north-east. A man who had been certified dead over thirty years ago returning from the grave, as it were, to find his wife married to someone else with umpteen children by her new husband. And the son, paying the father to keep quiet when he threatened to make himself known and stir up a hornet’s nest. As more facts emerged, it appeared the father had been a wrong ’un, mixed up in goodness knows what, but the son was the owner of a fine farm. How had he come by that when he’d been born into mining stock? Something fishy there. One thing was for sure, blood’s thicker than water and Jake Fletcher came from bad blood. His own half-brother had told reporters how Jake knocked him about and there were neighbours who bore witness to this. Definitely a violent sort.
Bail had been refused, and when Hannah visited Jake the day before the trial, she was shocked at the change in him. He had insisted on no visitors for the whole of the three weeks he had been held but she had gone to the gaol every day in the hope he would relent and see her. When a kind policeman showed her into the small room where she had to wait, she had sat down with her heart in her mouth, the blood drumming in her ears. She didn’t have to wait long.The door opened and there he was, flanked by two burly constables.
‘Jake.’ She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry or in any way make things more difficult for him, but it took all her will not to break down. His clothes hung on him, his face was gaunt and the look in his eyes was that of an animal caught in a trap. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’>
She had half risen but the kind policeman gently pushed her back down in the chair as Jake seated himself opposite her at the small square table. Without any preliminaries, his voice husky as though it hadn’t been used for some time, he said, ‘I wanted to ask you to see my mam all right, it’s going to be hard for her. She’d be better off at the farm. I’ve . . . made it over to you. I’ve made a will. It’s all legal and above board.’
‘Me?’ Her eyes widened. And then as the realisation of what he was saying dawned, she said, ‘But you’ll be coming home soon.’
‘Hannah, I didn’t kill him.’ Jake bent forward, his eyes intent on her face. ‘I didn’t lay a finger on him, much as I’d have liked to. Do you believe me?’
She hadn’t known what to believe up to this point. When the police had arrested Jake he had said not a word. Now, looking into his haggard face, she said firmly, ‘Of course I believe you if you say so. But if you didn’t do it they’ll prove it, Jake. I know they will.’
He shook his head very slightly. ‘I’m going to swing for this, Hannah. I can feel it.’
‘No.’ She leant forward, clasping his hands. ‘No, I won’t let that happen. But why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you say your father was back and demanding money from you? The papers say he’s been in these parts from Christmas. Why didn’t you confide in me?’
‘I couldn’t.’ He closed his eyes, opening them a moment later. ‘I just couldn’t. He was a terrible man, Hannah. I knew he wasn’t going to stay around for ever and I thought if I paid him enough to keep him quiet no one would be any the wiser. Mam had so much to lose . . .’
‘Oh, Jake.’ Her lips were quivering but again she told herself she had to be strong. Now was not the time for recriminations. It hurt he hadn’t trusted her but there were more important things at stake.
‘But you’ll take Mam and the younger ones to the farm? When . . . when it’s over?’
‘But you can’t give me the farm. Why not your mother?’
Something flickered in his eyes, the damaged one with the hooded lid almost closing as he narrowed his gaze and turned away. ‘My stepfather would get his hands on it then and I don’t want that. Besides, I want to know . . . that you will be looked after too.’
‘This is all conjecture anyway because nothing is going to happen to you. You’ll be proved innocent, something will come up. They’ll find out who really did it. That’s what the police do.’
‘Hannah, they aren’t looking any more. They think they have their man and the evidence is pretty damning. If Clara and Frank think I did it, what hope have I got with people who don’t know me?’
‘They don’t think that, really they don’t.’
‘They’ve told the police I was meeting my father each Sunday night.’
‘They had to do that when it all came out but they don’t think you killed him.’ Her voice was less convincing than it could have been. Clara and Frank were staunchly for Jake, everyone at the farm was, but she suspected most of them were of the private opinion that he had attacked his father. They didn’t blame him for it, she’d heard Isaac Mallard say that even the nicest bloke could be pushed too far, but they did believe he was guilty. Jake, oh, Jake. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two each night since the police had come to the farm and taken him away, and she had to force food down her throat. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if he was convicted of killing that horrible old man. Her hands still gripping his, she said, ‘How are they treating you in here?’ He looked awful, worse than awful. He had lost so much weight but it wasn’t so much that as the haunted look in his eyes.
Jake made an attempt at a smile. ‘Fine. It’s the being shut in I can’t stand. I’ve never been able to stand it.’
‘Jake, I believe you, I do, but can you think of anyone, anyone at all who would want your father dead besides you?’ Realising she hadn’t phrased that too well, she added, ‘There has to be someone. I can’t believe his murder happened by chance, not on the North Hylton Road on a Sunday evening.’
‘Apart from this crony of his he told me about, no one else knew he was here.’ He removed his hands from hers and leant back in his chair, his eyes tight on her face. ‘Pretty damning, isn’t it?’
‘There has to be someone.’ She stared back at him, her eyes clear and open. ‘You didn’t do it so there has to be someone who wanted him dead.’
‘Face it, Hannah, I’m scuppered,’ he said gently. ‘And maybe I’m being punished for what I wished on him. I wanted him dead. From the first night I met him, I wanted him dead but especially after I’d found out the sort of life he’d led my mother before he left Sunderland.’
‘You told her he was here?’
Jake shook his head. ‘No, of course not. But I asked her about him, made out I’d heard a thing or two. She told me,’ he hesitated for a moment, glancing towards the deadpan constable standing by the door of the room, ‘he did this.’ He touched the side of his face. ‘He’d already said as much but I wanted to know everything. I’m not sorry he’s dead, Hannah. I can’t pretend otherwise. But I didn’t kill him.’
‘What are we going to do?’
He sat staring at her, his face working, and it was a moment before he could say, ‘Thanks for the “we”, lass. I thought you’d be—’
‘What?’
His head dropped and he murmured, ‘Disgusted.’
‘Oh, Jake.’ She didn’t know whether she wanted to shake him or fling her arms round him and kiss him. How could he think that? How could he? ‘Of course I’m not disgusted,’ she said softly.
‘Not even knowing what my father was? What I came from? I can imagine what they’re saying, Hannah. Like father, like son. Blood outs in the end. I’m right, aren’t I?’
She did not answer this because he was right. Instead she whispered, ‘You came from your mother too, Jake. Don’t forget that. And she would be the first to say there’s nothing of your father in you. You’re all hers and you’re a fine, fine man.’
He looked at her then. It was one look, a fleeting second before he lowered his head again but what she read in that unguarded moment stopped her breath. But almost immediately he was on his feet, his voice gruff as he said, ‘I don’t want you in court tomorrow and that go
es for my mother as well. Goodbye, Hannah. Look after everything for me.’
She stood up too, but when she would have moved towards him, the constable behind her put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, miss. No contact allowed.’
Before she knew what had happened, he had gone.
Outside the building, she stood for some time in the bitterly cold air. February had turned into March in the last few days but the weather showed no signs of improving, the odd snowflake whirling in the north-east wind. She felt unable to move, the screen of her mind replaying the expression on Jake’s face before he had stood up.
In spite of the freezing air, her cheeks were burning and she put her hands to them, staring straight ahead as her thoughts spun like the snowflakes. He cared for her. In that way. But why had he never said? Why hadn’t he let her know? And it wasn’t just that he’d never said but he’d actively been pushing her away over the last months, encouraging her to think about leaving the farm. It didn’t make sense.
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