The Feud

by James, Amanda

  Lavender narrows her eyes and suddenly leans in, her face inches away from Jessica’s. She recoils, fear in her eyes. ‘What’s wrong? I’m only opening the door for you… Did you think I was going to bite… or put a spell on you?’ Lavender raises her webbed fingers and wiggles them in Jessica’s face.

  Jessica flashes her eyes and makes her escape, nearly tripping over her high heels in her hurry to get away. Lavender smiles. Sometimes being seen as a witch has its benefits. Her smile fades as she considers what to do next. Should she just carry on and meet Matt as arranged in an hour or so? Or should she call him now and clear things up over the phone? If she had to hear he actually was Jessica’s boyfriend, standing there in a sexy black velvet dress in the middle of a crowded pub would be so humiliating. Lavender picks up her phone and takes a deep breath.

  Chapter 24

  Jessica sits in her car at the end of the lane leading to Matt’s cottage. It’s almost dark and a few dead leaves scatter themselves along her windscreen. There’s a stiff breeze out there and the stars look cold and hard in the navy sky. Twice now she’s got out of her car and then got back inside again. It’s the prospect of humiliation that’s anchoring her to the seat. What she should do is march up to his door and tell him exactly how she feels about him. Tell him about the little bitch Lavender too… embellish what’s just happened. Say she threatened her, slapped her face. But then he might be angry that Jessica went to Lavender’s house in the first place after he expressly told her not to the other night. He might calm down when she tells him she did it because she loves him, is looking out for him.

  Tears well in her eyes and she pulls the sun visor down with the little mirror on it to dab at her mascara. Turning up at Matt’s door looking like a panda isn’t the look she’s going for. She curses him under her breath. Why does she always fall for the wrong men? Her ex-husband was a philandering bastard – broke her heart time after time. Matt is the complete opposite, but he doesn’t care for her at all. Not really. He slept with her because she was there and practically gave herself to him on a plate. But he was interested in Lavender, wasn’t he? Oh yes. Jessica saw the look in his eyes when she asked him about their relationship on Saturday night. The way he says her name too – soft as silk. Bitch. Lavender was meeting a friend? Yeah, right.

  Out of the car now, she pulls the collar of her grey winter coat up around her ears, wraps her red scarf around her neck and clicks the key fob to lock the door. At first her footsteps are quick and light, her conviction spurring her up the lane to her heart’s desire. She will tell him the extent of her feelings and, once inside the house, allow her instinct to guide the rest. The main thing is that she stops him going to meet Lavender fucking Nancarrow. Jessica’s gut reaction on seeing Nancarrow dressed in the black velvet dress was immediate. She was going out to meet a man. No woman dresses like that to meet a friend. It had to be Matt. How Jessica knew this she didn’t know – but she did, and that was that. Soon they’d be cosied up together talking about Jessica – poor deluded old Jessica. But if she got to him first, spun a tall tale, he’d have his doubts about Goldilocks. And doubt can be built upon… raised up until it becomes a strong tower of mistrust.

  Matt’s cottage comes into view in the distance, a cosy yellow light in the downstairs windows, and her pace slows. Her feet want to turn back and go the way they’ve come. But his car’s there – at least she knows he’s in for sure. When she’d turned in to his lane earlier, she saw a man hurrying away round the corner, towards the village. It looked a bit like Matt, but it was dark, and she’d been driving, so she only caught a glimpse. But even if Matt was in, it could all go horribly wrong, couldn’t it? He might turn her away at the door. And on the other hand, he might not. Jessica stops and squares her shoulders. Faint heart never won fair gentleman, did it? She sets off again, picks up the pace, until an acrid taste settles in her throat. Smoke. Wood fire? No, it smells more like petrol…

  Covering her mouth with her scarf, she hurries towards the cottage, her heels wobbling on the uneven ground. Shock encircles her guts and squeezes. Hard. The cosy yellow light she thought she could see downstairs isn’t light at all. It’s fire. The whole ground floor seems to be alight and there’s no access through the blazing front door. Fishing in her bag for her phone, she punches in 999 and alerts the fire brigade. Then, from round the back of the house, black acrid smoke billows towards her on the wind. It grabs her by the throat, forcing her to take small shallow breaths through the scarf. The sensible thing to do would be to wait for the fire brigade and sit in the car, but instinct drives her. If Matt’s in there she needs to help him.

  One side of the house is totally inaccessible due to the wall of thick black smoke; the other side isn’t too bad. There’s smoke, but not enough to stop her. Hurrying past the high hedge and fence, she places the flat of her right hand against the damp stone wall of the house to guide her way through a sudden cloud of smoke. Eventually she stumbles down the side and out the back. She can just make out what looks like the remains of a garden shed. It’s gutted, but there’s one or two remaining struts glowing red, the wind sporadically sending a shower of sparks skyward. Jessica needs to get past it to the back door. Was there a back door? There must be… mustn’t there? She can’t remember. Maybe there’s a side door around the other flank of the house, because there’s only a window on this side.

  Unsure of her next move, through a gap in the smoke, Jessica sees a black shape by the collapsing shed. She thinks it’s a man because of the height and build, and he’s bending over something on the ground. She removes her scarf, yelling, ‘Matt! Matt, are you okay?’ Coughing, the man straightens up and turns in her direction, but she can’t make him out. ‘Matt!’ The smoke obscures her view again, so she runs to where she thinks he is, spirits rising, her heart pounding in her chest. Thank God he’s alive and out of the house!

  The smoke shifts again… The figure’s moving away… He’s carrying something. Or is he? It’s so hard to make anything out. Then there’s an excruciating pain in her calf as her shoe twists and takes her ankle with it. Jessica bites her lip to stop a cry of pain and finds herself prone on the lawn, just feet from the last two flaming struts of the shed. Fuck! She needs to get away before the damned things fall on her. Upon testing her weight, a white-hot shard of pain bolts from ankle to thigh, and this time there’s no stopping the scream she sends up into the smoke-filled sky. ‘Matt! Matt, I need help!’

  There’s no reply. All she can hear is the crackle of flames and the pop of wood in the struts as the knots in it burn through. She’ll have to drag herself back the way she came, and fast. Inch by agonising inch, Jessica wriggles on her belly, worm-like, across the rough gravel path, past the greedy flames consuming the last of the shed. Her ankle feels the size of a football and each movement sends a thousand knives racing along the nerves in her legs and lower back. But she can hear something else now, something that gives her new hope and resolve. Sirens! Sirens are growing louder… thank God! And thank God she’s almost out of harm’s way too. A quick glance to her right tells her the shed’s about to fall. One last push and she’ll be clear of danger…

  Somewhere behind her, a woman’s screaming. A man’s yelling something too, their combined voices melding with the billowing smoke. Jessica’s screaming too. Screaming until her throat feels like it will burst. The struts must have fallen across her legs. The previous pain is dwarfed by the all-consuming agony of fire sweeping across her flesh. Jessica tries to beat the fire out with her hands, but it’s useless. She fights with every ounce of strength she has left, clawing the ground, dragging herself along… and then she thinks the pain is easing. She thinks she sees Matt, but her brain might be playing tricks on her. ‘Matt! Matt, is it you?’ Yes, it’s Matt. ‘Yes… Thank God.’ He’s right there next to her. He’s come to rescue her, and if he can’t, at least they’ll die together. Jessica reaches out her hand to him and smiles…

  Chapter 25

  Nearly every
male eye in the pub is gawping admiringly in Lavender’s direction. One older man, obviously the worse for drink, is openly staring, a lascivious expression on his face. Lavender shudders, turns her face to the fire and takes a sip of wine. Why did she wear this damned dress? Having just shrugged off her coat, she wants to yank it from the back of her chair and cover up. She won’t though. It would look odd. This thought makes her hide a smile. They think she’s odd anyway, so what does it matter? Still, she’d feel so much more comfortable in her normal clothes.

  There’d been no time to change after Jessica left, however, because Lavender had called Matt and they’d agreed to meet straight away. When she’d outlined his ex-colleague’s visit and what she’d said, Matt was furious – called Jessica a few choice names. She’d told him to calm down and that she’d explain all when she saw him. Lavender can’t stop thinking about the fact that he didn’t flatly deny she wasn’t his girlfriend, though. Shouldn’t they have been his first words?

  What will she say if he admits it – says him and Jessica are an item? There will not be much to say, will there? Matt and Lavender haven’t sworn undying love for each other, they’ve not even done more than kiss, so she has no hold over him, does she? Why shouldn’t he have a girlfriend? Then she takes a gulp of wine, shakes her head. Who is she kidding? If Matt had a girlfriend, he should never have kissed her and arranged to meet tonight, should he? It was wrong, and no amount of thinking it over is going to change that. If he says it’s true, she’ll just get up and walk out. Simple as that. Lavender looks into the flames and heaves a sigh. It won’t be simple at all, because Matt’s already in her heart, her mind, her soul. She’ll need a crowbar to lever him out.

  Lavender glances at the clock above the fire. Matt should have been here ten minutes ago. He was the one who insisted they met immediately, and now he’s late. She scrabbles in her handbag for her phone. No message from him either. Another five minutes and then she’ll ring. After nearly ten, she scrolls through her contacts and punches ‘Matt’. The way she’s feeling now, that’s exactly what she wants to do to him. The phone goes to voicemail. Damn. Where the hell is he?

  Lavender almost finishes her glass and contemplates another. No. She wants a clear head when and if he does grace her with his presence. There’s a huddle of people at the bar around Laurence Harris, the postman. They’re all wearing grave expressions and a few women are oohing and aahing at something Laurence’s saying, but Lavender can’t catch it, as he’s speaking in a low voice. Maggie Gwithian from the hairdressers sits down heavily on a bar stool and says, ‘Oh my God! I wonder who it is?’

  Lavender can’t stand the suspense and goes to the bar, ostensibly to get another drink, but leans in as she approaches the little group.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Laurence says. ‘But the burnt-out car belongs to young Trevelyar. He’s renting the cottage, so I’d guess it was him.’

  At the mention of Matt’s name, and burnt-out car, Lavender’s heart leaps into her throat. She grabs Laurence’s shoulder and he looks round at her in alarm. She doesn’t explain, just blurts, ‘Matt Trevelyar’s car is burnt-out? Are you sure…? What the hell happened?’

  Before Laurence can speak, Maggie Gwithian flaps her hand in front of her face, red-cheeked with excitement, gossip in her eyes. ‘Laurence’s just been past the cottage that Matt Trevelyar is renting, because he lives at the other end of the lane, you know? He wasn’t going out tonight, but heard sirens and that, didn’t you?’ She looks at the postman and he nods solemnly. ‘Anyway, he saw a huge commotion – police, fire engines, burnt-out car and a half-ruined cottage too. He managed to sneak up and take a peep just before they put a cordon across, didn’t you, Laurie?’

  Lavender leans against the bar. She feels faint… nauseous. ‘The cottage was burnt too?’ Her voice comes out as a whisper.

  Laurence answers this time. ‘Yeah. That’s not all… They’ve found a body! They were just covering it over when I came through the snicket. Police weren’t too pleased when they saw me, I can tell you! Asked me some questions and told me to bugger off, more or less. I said I lived along the lane and was just going for a walk when I saw all the commotion. There was no cordon when I came past.’ He looks round the group, puffs his chest out.

  ‘Chances are it’s Trevelyar,’ Maggie says, and fans her face again, this time with a beer mat. ‘I know he’s supposed to be a wrong ’un, but it makes me feel quite sick to think of it. Imagine, being burnt alive?’

  A chill crawls from the pit of Lavender’s stomach and spreads through her chest. No. No. NO! Someone’s wine glass shatters all over the stone tiles at her feet. She looks at her beige boots spattered with blood. No, it’s red wine – her hand is empty. She dropped the wine glass, and it had the dregs left in it…

  The landlord rushes from behind the bar with a broom and Lavender somehow forces her numb legs towards her chair by the fire. Matt… Matt’s house is burnt and so is his car. They’ve found a body… No wonder he’s late. Lavender stifles a sob as she remembers she wanted to punch him a few minutes ago. She’ll do anything now to see his face once more. She doesn’t care if he has fifty girlfriends – just be alive, Matt. With trembling fingers, she takes out her phone and presses Matt’s number again, but it goes to answerphone. Lavender grabs her coat from the chair so hard it topples on its side, and the group at the bar fall silent and look over at her, mouths agape.

  ‘It can’t be Matt,’ she says to them, and tries to get her coat on… only the armholes appear to be missing, and the more she struggles with it, the more tangled up in the material her arms become. Her face flares red with anger, and she throws the coat to the floor. The little group look at her as if she has lost the plot. Which at the moment she has. Lavender bends to retrieve her coat and hurries to the door and out into the cold night air. All she cares about is finding out what happened to Matt.

  The wind whips her hair across her eyes as she runs down the high street, the coat bundled up under her arm, tears coursing down her cheeks. Then she slows to a walk as thoughts of arriving at Matt’s cottage swamp her brain. Lavender can’t bear the thought of being shooed away by the police like an annoying fly. They won’t tell her who the body is anyway, will they? She’s not a relative. Not even a girlfriend. A gruesome image surfaces, so she tries to blink it away. But it won’t go. It’s a prone, twisted and blackened form – a charred, mangled… thing. A thing that once used to be human. It’s being prodded by forensics. Poked, examined… They might not know who the body is for some time.

  Lavender strangles a sob and sets off running again. If they won’t tell her, then so be it. But she has to at least try… Then she stops again, abruptly. Someone’s hurrying up the street ahead of her on the opposite side. It’s dark at that end of the road but as they draw nearer to a street light, she can see it looks like… No. Her mind won’t allow her to believe it… but please, God, let it be. The person’s looking at their phone, holding it to their ear. Lavender’s heart jolts as her phone goes off in her bag. She doesn’t need to answer it, because she can see who it is clearly now as he crosses the road towards her.

  ‘Matt! Matt, thank God!’ Lavender leans against the window of a shop, sobs of relief loud in the empty street.

  ‘Hey, hey, what’s wrong?’ Matt’s arms go around her, hold her tight. ‘Were you worried? Betty collared me in the shop, I went in to get some wine gums, because you said you loved them. Anyway, Betty was upset about her daughter. She’s found out her son-in-law’s been having it away with the babysitter. Chewed my ear off for ages. I couldn’t leave her in floods of tears.’

  ‘I tried to c-call you…’ Lavender whispers and tries to calm her sobs.

  ‘Yeah, sorry. Just realised my phone’s been switched off. No idea how.’

  Lavender wipes her eyes and looks into his. She holds his face between her two hands, kisses his lips and then rests her head on his shoulder. ‘Oh, Matt. I thought you were dead… I couldn’t bear it.’

  Matt
pulls away and looks at her intently, the turquoise of his eyes iridescent in the street light. ‘Dead? I know I’m late, but…’ He tries a laugh, but his face grows serious again when he sees Lavender’s not amused.

  The words she needs to say are on her tongue, but keep sliding back down her throat when she tries to free them. How do you tell someone their home’s been on fire – car too – and worse, that a body’s been found on the premises? Taking a deep breath, she blurts it all out and he raises a shaking hand to his mouth.

  ‘Fuck…’ He stares at her, shock etched into the contours of his face. ‘You sure it was my house?’

  ‘Yes – the postman told everyone in the pub. He won’t have got it wrong as he only lives at the end of your lane.’

  ‘It’s unreal… I can’t believe it.’ Then Matt takes her hand and sets off at a brisk pace. ‘Come on. There’s only one way to find out.’

  Chapter 26

  The stench of smoke hits them three roads away from Matt’s cottage. It must have been some fire. Matt tightens his grip on Lavender’s hand as she slows and stares into the darkness like a scared rabbit. ‘I’m not sure I want to see. Might just go home and wait for you to tell me.’

  Matt strokes her hair back from her face, places his hands on her shoulders. ‘Okay. I’ll walk you back first. You look a bit freaked out and–’

  ‘No. I’ll be fine. Go and find out what happened. Call me later or pop round, no matter how late.’ Lavender places a quick kiss on his lips. ‘I can’t see me getting any sleep until I know.’ Then she turns and hurries back the way they’d come. He wishes he could go too, but he knows he can’t.