The Feud

by James, Amanda

  Matt also brought up the topic of looking for a place to live too. But Lavender changed the subject. She’s been plucking up the courage to say he can stay with her as long as he needs to, but she hasn’t managed it yet. What if he needs his own space? More importantly, what if he has no intention of living with her? It might put a real dampener on the relationship if moving in together is not part of his plan. Lavender picks up an empty water glass from the side table and goes down the stairs. Maybe she’s rushing ahead too quickly. Living together might be part of his long-term plans, but not right now. She can understand that, because she wonders if she’s jumping in too fast herself. Following her head instead of her heart might be an idea for a while.

  As she’s pondering, the doorbell rings and she runs to the door, water glass still in hand. Her dad’s standing there, grim-faced, jaw set. ‘Dad? You okay?’

  Dad’s shoulders start to shake and she bundles him inside, sits him on a kitchen chair, puts the kettle on. Is Morvoren dead? Lavender’s not sure how she would feel about that if it were true. She looks at him as he’s blowing his nose and waits.

  ‘It’s your gran… They reckon she’s got lung cancer and heart problems.’

  Not dead then. ‘Right. What’s the prognosis?’

  Dad glares at her. His eyes, so similar to her own, flash deep violet and he shakes his head in bewilderment. ‘Is that all you have to say? God, Lavender, you’re so cold. After all those years you were so close – she worshipped you.’

  She throws her arms up in exasperation. ‘What do you expect? I’ve told you what she’s done to me. To Matt!’

  He folds his arms. ‘What she’s supposed to have done. You’ve no proof!’ he yells over the roar of the kettle.

  Lavender can’t believe it. The kettle clicks off and she pours boiling water on a teabag, bangs the mug down on the kitchen table in front of him. ‘Are you saying you think I’m a liar about the fire, the drugging of Matt? That I’ve made the whole thing up?’

  ‘No…’ He can’t hold her gaze, takes a spoon and dunks the teabag. ‘Just thought you might be mistaken.’

  ‘Mistaken? I told you exactly what happened with Matt, not the version I gave to the police. I was there, took part – how can I be mistaken about it?’

  ‘Exactly. So you can’t just let Mum take all the blame. And the fire – you have no evidence whatsoever, do you? Got any milk?’

  Lavender wants to pour the milk over his head. ‘Yes, I can let her take all the fucking blame! Weren’t you listening to the part where I told you she lied to me? Used me like some blunt instrument?’

  ‘Don’t curse at me, young lady!’

  ‘You’re lucky I don’t slap you. Have you any idea at all what I went through growing up after that creature laid hands on me?’ She’s close to tears and hates that she is.

  ‘No, Lavender. Because you didn’t tell anyone, did you?’

  ‘I couldn’t. I was ashamed – thought I’d done something wrong. And Morvoren knew it. I told her, opened up to her… yet she used something that hurt me so badly to get me to wreak her filthy, disgusting revenge. Don’t you see, Dad? She’s obsessed. It’s not about the feud, it’s about Morvoren and her pride.’ Lavender takes a breath, looks him in the eye. ‘Everything is all about her… always was.’

  He says nothing and stares at the table. Lavender takes more calming breaths and takes the milk from the fridge, shoves it along the table, but he doesn’t move.

  Then he says in a quiet voice, ‘I’ll grant you, Mum can be stubborn… vindictive even. I’m so sorry that she hurt you and played with your feelings, love. But as far as the fire’s concerned, no.’ He looks up. ‘No. My mother would never go as far as that, no matter what the circumstances.’

  ‘I wish I had your conviction.’

  ‘Believe it. You’ve no proof, as I said. How do you know it wasn’t Jamie all by himself? Takes a bit of swallowing, because he’s a nice lad… but if you say you recognised him on that recording… or thought you did…’ Dad ends on a shrug.

  A shrug which speaks volumes. He doesn’t believe you, Lavender. No point in trying to convince him, especially since he’s had such bad news today. ‘Let’s not talk about it now, Dad. What did the hospital say the future was for Morvoren?’

  Dad looks down into his mug. ‘Can’t even call her Gran, can you?’ He sighs and continues, ‘They said with chemo and or radiotherapy, she might have a few years. Without, she might have six months or a year. She’s on intravenous antibiotics to clear a chest infection.’ He shakes his head. ‘Terrible cough she has. She’s got angina too. Got meds of course… but when she’s fit, she can come home.’

  ‘Then she’ll go back later for the other treatment?’

  Dad’s face crumples and he blows his nose again. ‘She says she’s not having it. Says she’s got her own remedies, won’t have their “poison” anywhere near her.’

  Lavender isn’t surprised. Morvoren has always despised and feared ‘artificial’ medicines, to an extent. And knowing her, she’ll probably defy all odds, administer her own potions and get well. ‘I see. Well, at her age I think I’d take my chances too. Chemo can make you really unwell.’

  Dad furrows his brow. ‘I did hope you could go and see her. Convince her to at least try the treatment. Your potions and stuff can work for minor ailments, but this is cancer.’

  ‘You might be surprised at what our potions and “stuff” can do, Dad. And there’s no way I’m going anywhere near her. Not after what she’s done to me, to Matt and to poor Jessica.’

  Exasperated, Dad exhales through his nose, scrapes his chair back across the stone flags, stomps to the door. Before he goes through it, he turns to Lavender. ‘When did you get to be so cruel, so heartless?’

  His words are a punch to the gut. Hasn’t he listened to anything she’s told him? Does he seriously believe she’s mistaken? ‘If I am cruel and heartless, I learned it from Morvoren Penhallow. And until you see that, I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other.’

  ‘Goodbye, Lavender. I agree. And don’t bother trying to get around your mum, because she’ll be appalled at your attitude when I tell her,’ Dad snaps. Then he wrenches the door open and slams it behind him.

  Lavender rests her head against it and closes her eyes. She’s now effectively cut off from her family, such as it is. Her mum won’t like it, but she’ll do what Dad says. Her grandmother’s evil knows no bounds. One thing’s for sure, if Morvoren’s going to die, Lavender wishes she’d bloody hurry up about it.

  Chapter 32

  Thank God she’s alone. Two weeks of poking, prodding, being woken in the middle of the night to have her blood pressure taken, or to be given drugs, is finally over. At last she’s home in her lovely little cottage near the sea. Morvoren hated being away from it. Waking in the morning to the smell of disinfectant, other people’s bodies, and overcooked food, instead of wet grass and salt air, had nearly driven her mad. But right now, she’s waving her son Tony and daughter-in-law Katherine off from her door and she can’t wish them away quick enough. Considering they didn’t really have an awful lot to do with her day-to-day, when the chips were down, they rallied round. But then that’s what families do, isn’t it? Proper families.

  In the kitchen, she puts the kettle on and drops a teabag in a mug. Simple everyday actions, but symbolic of her independence, her ability to function by herself. Morvoren’s grateful for everything Tony and Katherine have done for her – shopping, cleaning, getting the house ready for her return – but now Morvoren just wants a bit of peace and quiet. Still, she’ll have to put up with a nurse popping over now and then to check on her. Anything for a quiet life and to get away from that hellhole of a hospital.

  Young Jamie needs to come over soon too. He needs to get picking. The sooner Morvoren gets some proper herbal medicine inside her, the better she’ll feel. It might even see off this greedy tumour growing in her lung. Not long ago she thought she’d never see another spring –
but this bastard of an illness has made her want to fight. Morvoren’s never backed down from one, and she’s not about to start now. Fighting gives her something to live for.

  She takes the tea into the living room and eases herself into her old comfy armchair and smiles. That’s better. Her backside must think it’s Christmas – there were no proper cushions at the hospital. Then the smile turns into a grimace when she thinks of having to ask Jamie to help. Lavender should be the one doing the picking, shouldn’t she? Morvoren wouldn’t even have to tell her what to pick – she’d know instinctively. But she won’t be doing it, will she? No. No, because she’s dead to her now.

  She takes a few sips of tea and ponders on the future. No Lavender, no Annie… John Parry has been avoiding her in the street since bloody Lavender collared him. The only people she can call on are Tony, Katherine and Jamie. A thought flits into her head and sends a chill down her arms. What if Jamie won’t have anything to do with her either? Maybe he’s had enough. He was furious enough to help her with the fire, mind, wasn’t he? If he was prepared to burn a man to death, she doubts he’ll just throw his hands up and want to forget about it. Deciding that there’s no time like the present, she hauls herself up and dials his number.

  An hour later there he is on the doorstep. He’s a bunch of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolates under his arm. ‘Mor, you old sweetheart, how the devil are you?’ He steps forward and plants a kiss on her cheek.

  ‘Oi, less of the old! I’ve been better, but getting there… and are those for me?’ She takes the gifts and ushers him through. ‘You’re a good lad, Jamie. I just wish our Lavender realised what she was throwing away before she took up with Trevelyar.’

  ‘Me too. But she’s welcome to him. Can’t hang around waiting for her forever. Don’t suppose you know he’s living at her cottage, do you, what with being in hospital and that?’

  ‘Living together?’ Morvoren stops filling a vase with water and looks at Jamie, open-mouthed.

  ‘Yep. Moved in the night of the fire and he’s been there ever since.’

  ‘Bleedin’ hell! She didn’t let the grass grow, did she?’ Turning her attention to arranging the flowers, Morvoren tries to gather herself and stop unwanted tears falling. This is a blow. She suspected Lavender and Trevelyar were sweethearts, but actually living together…

  ‘You all right, Mor?’ Jamie puts his hand on her shoulder.

  She takes a deep breath and says brightly, ‘I will be, lad.’ Now, fill me in on what’s been happening.’

  While Morvoren makes tea and gets biscuits out of the cupboard, Jamie pulls a newspaper out of his back pocket and shakes it open on the table. ‘The local paper did a two-page spread on the fire. Thought you might like a look. It made the national news too.’

  Morvoren hands Jamie a mug and sits opposite him. There’s a picture of the burnt-out cottage and car and the headline reads:

  Arson Attack Turns Into Murder Inquiry

  Morvoren scans the story, saying to Jamie as she reads, ‘Oh… it goes on to say how the fire was set, that Jessica died and a bit about her age and family, then it says although people have been helping with police inquiries, the police have no leads at present. However, the inquiry is ongoing, and anyone with any information, no matter how small, should contact a DI Price – and then it gives the phone number.’

  ‘Yeah, I read it a few weeks back, Mor.’ Jamie smiles and tucks into a biscuit.

  ‘Hmm? Oh yes, of course you did.’ He must think she’s dotty. The phone number catches her attention and prompts her to say, ‘I wonder who they had helping with police inquiries? Do you know?’

  Jamie’s handsome face loses the smile. ‘Yeah. Trevelyar and Lavender for two, Betty for another, and they dragged me in for an interview as well.’

  Morvoren nearly chokes on her tea. ‘You? But how did they know?’

  ‘CCTV caught me putting that bloody bracelet into Jessica’s hand. Couldn’t prove anything mind, as my back was to the camera and I had my gloves on and my hood covering my face.’

  Morvoren wonders if she’s missing something. ‘Well, if they couldn’t make you out, how come they interviewed you?’

  ‘Lavender told them she thought it was me, from my mannerisms or some crap. She told them she thought you were up to your eyes in it too, cos of the bracelet. She lost it at your house apparently.’ He dunks a biscuit and stuffs all of it in his mouth at once, talks through it. ‘She also told them about the night we stripped Trevelyar, put him in his car. Said you organised everything and I helped.’

  ‘What? The little bitch!’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘But how could she do that without implicating herself in it all?’

  ‘She said you’d tricked her into it. She also told them we both said if she went to the police about it, we’d say it was all her fault.’

  Morvoren put a hand to her mouth. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said you and me were playing cards with my gran and my dad. I said I knew nothing about no bracelet, said I was helping Dad fix a bread mixer in the

  shop on the night of the fire. Dad backed it all up, so they had to drop it.’ Jamie yawns and stretches. ‘Oh, and Gran’s gone on holiday, so they can’t ask her. Mum’s a bit worried, to be honest. Gran’s phoned me a few times to say she’s okay, but she apparently needs some time alone.’ He pauses and stares off into the distance, starts to bite his nails. ‘One of your neighbours told my dad that the police came around to question you too, but you were in hospital. They’ll be back as soon as they know you’re home, I expect.’

  ‘And I have no alibi for the night of the fire, do I? Damn her!’

  ‘No. But just say you were feeling ill and were in bed. That rings true cos of you being rushed to hospital. They have nothing on you, Mor, don’t worry.’

  She knows he’s right. Nevertheless, her own flesh and blood has tried to turn her in to the police… in a bloody murder inquiry, when Lavender can’t be a hundred per cent sure about her guilt, even taking the bracelet into account. The fact that Morvoren is in it up to her eyes is neither here nor there. The anger she’d felt towards Lavender before is nothing compared to the all-consuming hatred building in her chest now. Little mare thinks she’s so clever. Well she’ll have to think again. This betrayal has gone too far.

  * * *

  Upon coming over a field, picking basket in hand, Lavender spots Jamie’s car outside Morvoren’s house. She’s still a way off and might not get a clear shot, but she instinctively reaches for her phone. She’ll take a photo, and then ring Matt to discuss what to do next. The police might be interested in looking at it. Why is Jamie snooping round there when Morvoren is in hospital? Is he trying to plant some evidence? She wouldn’t put it past him. About to dial Matt, she thinks better of it and decides to investigate further. By the time Matt gets here, she might have missed an opportunity.

  A few minutes later, she’s opposite the house behind a hedge. Setting her basket down, she peers around the end of the hedge, which adjoins a five-bar gate. Jamie’s car’s still there, so she takes another photo. Crouching low, and to the rapid thump of her heart, she hurries across the lane and flattens her back against the damp wall of the house. Looking this way and that, she sidles to the end and peeps round the back. Nothing. The little garden is silent, and the back door closed. She makes a similar examination of the other side of the house. Nothing. Where the heck is Jamie?

  With her back still to the wall, she slips round so she’s just under the kitchen window. The window’s open a bit as it always is, come rain or shine. Odd. Dad must have forgotten to close it. Maybe Jamie’s inside? He can hardly be anywhere else, can he? Lavender strains her ears for any movement or noise. Voices? Muted… but yes, she can hear a man talking. Now what? The last thing she wants to do is burst in on Jamie and a friend while they’re up to no good. Because he must be up to no good, mustn’t he? God knows what they’d do to her. If Jamie can watch a woman die in cold blood, he can
do anything. Especially to someone who he sees as a betrayer.

  Lavender is about to make her escape, but something won’t let her. A little voice of courage drags her round to the back door and has her lifting the latch, silent as a thief in the night. She’s come through this door thousands of times in the past and knows every creak of the floorboards. Take your time, Lavender. Take it slow. In the hallway she closes the door behind her and tiptoes forward. She can hear Jamie talking to someone in the kitchen a few steps away… The kitchen door is ajar, but she daren’t creep up to that – too dangerous. Instead, she slips into the broom/coat cupboard next to it and hides amongst the coats, leaves the door open a crack, presses her ear to it.

  ‘But how many of each do I pick? I’ve no bloody idea what I’m doing,’ Jamie says with a laugh.

  ‘Pick as many as you can get. There won’t be lots around at this time of year, but if you find a good crop by some miracle, I can always freeze them.’

  Inside the cupboard, Lavender covers her mouth. It’s Morvoren! When did she get back?

  Jamie’s talking again. ‘This book’s pretty old and the drawings are faded. What if I get the wrong ones?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about it, lad. Do your best. I only wish I didn’t have to ask you. If my bitch of a granddaughter had stayed loyal, I wouldn’t have to.’

  I’m the bitch? That’s hilarious. Lavender takes a deep breath to calm her anger and an idea comes to her. Taking her phone from her pocket, she searches for record and presses play. It’s not something she’s done before, and she hopes she’s done it right, because this might be just what the police need if Morvoren and Jamie start talking about the night of the fire. Holding the phone to the crack in the door, she listens again.