The Feud

by James, Amanda

  ‘You never know, Mor. Your Lavender might come to her senses and realise what she’s done.’

  A snort. ‘And pigs might bloody fly. No. She’s dead to me.’

  ‘Talking of which,’ Jamie gives a little laugh. ‘Will it cure the cancer?’

  ‘Get straight to the point, why don’t you?’ Morvoren laughs too. ‘It might. It might not. But one thing is certain, nature’s potion will make me feel better than all these chemicals they sent me home with.’

  ‘I think it will take a lot to kill you off, Mor.’

  ‘It will. And I’ll need all my strength to get my revenge on Trevelyar. He probably thinks it’s over. But if I’m checking out soon, he’s coming with me. Lavender too, if she gets in the way.’

  Lavender presses her hand over her mouth again to stop a gasp escaping. Oh my God…. oh my God. She hopes the phone’s picking this up!

  ‘Hmm. I’ll draw the line at her. But if you need help like last time, just give me a call. Right, I’ll get off and pick the plants or herbs or whatever the hell they are. Won’t be long, hopefully.’

  Lavender hears the kitchen door being pulled back over the stone flags and footsteps along the hall. She shrinks back from the crack in the door, huddles into the coats and crouches low.

  ‘If you get stuck just give me a ring,’ Morvoren says. Lavender can see her feet in pink fluffy carpet slippers and Jamie’s boots. ‘If you can’t find any of them up in Lantwen’s fields, try down by the river on the Old Oak side.’

  ‘Right you are, Mor. See you later.’

  There’s a draft as he opens the door and a soft click as Morvoren shuts it behind him and goes back into the kitchen. Then there’s a clattering of dishes and the sound of water running in the sink. Lavender can’t decide whether to leave it a while longer before making her escape, or to go now. If she goes now, she might run the risk of bumping into Jamie if he’s forgotten to ask something. If she waits, Morvoren might come to the cupboard. Unable to stand the thump of her racing heart in her ears and sweaty palms any longer, she eases the door open, slips into the hall and out the front door. Then she’s in the lane, grabbing her basket from behind the hedge, and off like a hare across the fields.

  Chapter 33

  Matt’s on the computer looking at cars for sale when Lavender bursts in, golden hair tangled by the salt wind, face pink, eyes as wild as her hair and panting like she’s run a marathon.

  He gets up from the laptop and puts his arm around her. She’s trembling but rummaging in her bag for something. ‘Hey, what’s up, Lavender?’

  ‘I need my phone. Where the hell is it?’ Tissues, a comb and a purse all end up on the floor, then she holds her phone up in triumph. ‘Wait until you hear this!’ She looks at him, eyes alight. He watches her fiddle with the mobile for a few seconds and then she curses. ‘Shit! It hasn’t recorded! It was on pause.’

  ‘What were you trying to record?’

  ‘Bloody Morvoren and Jamie.’ She tells him the tale about overhearing Morvoren practically spelling out that she plans to kill him, and her too if she got in the way.

  Matt’s shocked at this but also concerned about how she knows. ‘Hang on. You’re telling me that you saw Jamie’s car outside your grandmother’s, so sneaked inside? Hid in a cupboard, even though you know what they’re both capable of?’ He’s aware he’s yelling, but my God, has she gone mad?

  ‘Yes, but if this damned thing had recorded, it would all have been worth it!’

  ‘No. You could have been hurt.’ He steps forward, draws her into his arms. ‘Please promise me you’ll not do anything like that again.’

  Her look is neither helpful nor friendly and she chucks the phone at the sofa cushions. ‘I’m going to make some scones. I always think better when I’m baking,’ she says over her shoulder as she goes to the kitchen.

  Matt follows her and leans his weight against the doorjamb, folds his arms. ‘You didn’t promise me.’

  Lavender pulls a flour cannister out of the cupboard and sighs. ‘Okay, I promise I won’t put myself in harm’s way.’ She runs the tap and washes her hands. ‘But I won’t promise that I won’t try and record Morvoren’s confession.’

  He hands her a towel. ‘Eh? How you gonna get her to confess? And how are you gonna get in the same room as her – she hates your guts, as you’ve just found out.’

  Lavender sets a big mixing bowl on the table and tips flour onto a weighing scale. ‘Well… when I was running back here, I had an idea. It might work, it might not. But I reckon if I pick her some herbs, make her some scones or cake and go round there in a few days, say I’ve made a mistake about you – that you’re a bully or something… not decided what I’ll say yet.’ She weighs sugar and gets eggs and butter out of the fridge. ‘And that I’ve seen the error of my ways and play to her ego, I reckon I could get her to talk. She likes to brag, and she’d be keen to tell me about the fire.’

  Matt thinks this is a long shot. He can see Lavender is excited by her plan and has to think before he speaks. ‘It might work… but won’t she suspect you might be up to something?’

  ‘No, because she doesn’t do technology. She’ll have no clue that phones record stuff.’

  ‘Really?’

  She shoots him a look and tosses her hair out of her eyes with a floured hand. ‘Yes. Really.’

  Matt sits at the end of the table, watches her work, her long nimble fingers rubbing butter into the flour. ‘But doesn’t she watch any crime dramas or–’

  ‘No. She doesn’t have a TV, says it addles her brain.’

  ‘Okay, it could work… if she lets you in the house in the first place.’

  ‘Yeah. I think she will. She’ll be too curious not to.’ Lavender beats eggs and tips them into the flour, sugar and butter. ‘But as I say, I’ll do it in a few days. Give her a chance to feel a bit better. Besides, I need to open the shop again before everyone thinks I’ve shut down for good. Not much passing trade this time of year, but there are one or two people. I need to feel normal. All this drama is “addling my brain” as Morvoren would say.’

  Matt watches her work the mixture into dough on the floured table. ‘Trouble is, in your conversation, she might talk about the drugging -–that you were in the know all the time. Then you’d be in trouble when you give the recording to the police.’

  ‘Hmm. I’ve thought the same. It is a risk, but if I’m lucky I can direct her to the night of the fire and just record that bit? Anyway, it’s worth a shot.’

  ‘Hope it’s not a long one.’ Matt receives an eye roll and a huff. He knows he’s being negative, but he’s still worried about her safety. ‘Can I at least be nearby, in the field or something… in case Jamie comes round unexpectedly?’

  A frown furrows her brow. ‘No need, really. If she lets me in and he does come round while we’re chatting, why should he turn nasty?’

  ‘Hmm. Okay.’ Matt feels a bit out of it. He wants to be there for her. ‘I’ll be in the car two lanes away. And I can teach you how to operate the bloody record function too – or it will all be for nothing.’ He grins at her and receives a grumpy pout in return. But as she walks past to wash dough from her hands, she flicks some at his nose.

  ‘Teach me how to operate the record function?’ she says in a plummy voice. ‘That’ll teach you, Mr Teacher!’

  He grabs her, spins her round, rubs his doughy nose on her cheek. Lavender shrieks with laughter and pretends to strangle him. Fun. This is what they’ve been missing over the past few weeks. Once the whole situation with Morvoren is sorted, he hopes they can settle down to just living their life, instead of lurching from one disaster to the other.

  * * *

  Lavender’s stomach’s pitching and tossing like a ship at sea. What seemed like a great idea a few days ago feels ill-thought-out and stupid now. At the end of Morvoren’s lane, she stops and shifts the carrier bag with the cake tin into the other hand and shelters her picking basket from a fresh gust of sea air. The last thing she wa
nts is the result of hours of foraging being blown across the countryside. It took her long enough to find everything at this time of year in the first place. Swallowing hard, she sets off at a fast pace before she can talk herself out of it. Once outside the front door, she sets the carrier at her feet and knocks. She notices the dark-green paintwork is fading and flaking in places. The whole house feels past its best, old, moribund… like Morvoren. She might be gone soon. Why did it all have to end up like this?

  After the door is wrenched open, any sense of maudlin and regret in Lavender’s heart are strangled at birth by the glare of unadulterated hatred in Morvoren’s eyes. Morvoren’s cursory look up and down lingers on the picking basket and carrier. ‘What the hell do you want?’

  ‘I’ve come to see how you are… brought you some pickings.’ Lavender’s glad her voice sounds regretful, sad, just as she intended.

  Morvoren knits her bushy eyebrows together so deeply, her eyes are almost overshadowed by them. ‘Don’t make me laugh. You couldn’t care less. You proved it when you betrayed me with that disgusting excuse for a man!’

  Lavender lowers her eyes, sniffs. ‘I know, and I’m so sorry. I made a terrible mistake. The worst.’ She allows her eyes to drift upward, fix briefly on Morvoren’s face and then away again. The expression of shock in the old woman’s gaze, tinged with relief, is encouraging.

  ‘What?’ Morvoren rubs her arms as if she’s chilly. ‘You expect me to swallow that nonsense?’

  Lavender does, and is convinced she’s going to, given her manner. ‘No. But I wish you’d let me explain, so we can at least try to mend our fences.’

  A snort. ‘You’ll need some bloody big nails and a hammer to do that. In fact, no. No, you’ll need a miracle.’

  Lavender looks up and into Morvoren’s suspicious gaze. This next sentence will make or break the deal. The words will stick in her throat… ‘Please, Gran. I know what I have done is unforgivable, but I can’t bear to think you’re ill… that you might even, you know… without…’ She covers her face with both hands and tries her hardest to muster tears. The well is dry until she pictures a life without Matt, Matt meeting an untimely death at the hands of Morvoren, and then her eyes fill.

  It takes all her resolve not to flinch when she feels a cold papery hand pat her forearm. ‘Come on. Come in and I’ll hear you out.’ Morvoren leads the way inside and over her shoulder says, ‘It’d better be good though. There’s something that don’t feel right about this… not right at all.’

  In the kitchen, Lavender sets the basket and carrier on the table and pulls a chair out. ‘Is it okay if I sit down?’

  Morvoren shrugs. ‘Do what you like. I’ll be sitting over here in my armchair by the fire. Can’t do with uncomfortable chairs – had enough of those in the hospital.’

  ‘I wanted to visit you, Gran, but I thought you might not want me there.’

  ‘Huh! I know that’s a lie because your dad says different. He’s devastated by your attitude to your own flesh and blood. I mean, how could you have told the police I was to blame for the fire at his house because of your bracelet? I never had your bloody bracelet!’

  Oh yes you bloody well did! If Lavender needs further convincing, which she doesn’t, Morvoren’s face is guilt personified. But she ignores it, says what she’d planned on saying. ‘I know. I was still so angry then, but Matt has since shown his true colours and I really missed you over the past few days. Missed how we used to be… and I am so sorry for rejecting you.’ Morvoren shakes her head, gives a wry smile. Maybe she’s over-egging. It needs to be more realistic. ‘But let’s be fair. You did tell me a shitload of lies about him, so you’re not blameless.’

  The old woman glares at her, sticks her scrawny neck out, slaps her thigh. ‘Ha! Didn’t take you long to get rid of the sorry act, did it?’ Then she gives a chesty cough and it turns into a coughing fit.

  Lavender runs water into a glass and takes it over. Morvoren drinks half of it and heaves a sigh. Lavender says, ‘I’ve brought some pickings – took me ages to find them. I’ll make you a potion before I go. And I am sorry, it isn’t an act. But if we’re to mend fences, we have to be honest with each other.’ She goes back and sits at the table. ‘You told me some awful lies about Trevelyar so I’d help you do your dirty work. I mean, how could you tell me he was a kiddie fiddler? How could you – what with my history? Then the last time I was round here, you said you didn’t care that you’d told me all those lies. Takes a bit of coming to terms with, to be honest.’

  A shrug. ‘Means to an end.’ Then she gives her granddaughter side-eyes. ‘I’ll grant you, it was perhaps a bit mean.’

  Great. You’re getting somewhere, Lavender, keep it up. ‘Hmm. Anyway, what really brought me up with a start, made me sorry I’d ever gone against you and trusted that man, was him admitting the other night he’d been having it away with bloody Jessica Blake.’

  At this, Morvoren sits up in her seat, eyes round, mouth agape. ‘I sodding knew it! That’s what she was doing at his cottage that night.’

  ‘Perhaps. But I reckon it was because she knew about me and was jealous. Trevelyar told me she’d found out he cheated on her with me. So she set the fire. It wasn’t you at all. I must have dropped my bracelet at Matt’s. She found it and was going to plant it nearby to implicate me. On the road leading to the cottage perhaps? Then she tripped or something… I don’t know. The man I thought was Jamie must have picked it up, thinking it was hers, and gave it back to her. God knows what he was doing there. It’s just a mystery, that bit – expect it always will be. But I’ll tell you something. I wish Jessica would have succeeded in burning the cottage down with Matt in it, because he’s a monster, Gran. A monster. He’s a bully. He forced me into…’

  ‘Forced you into what?’ Morvoren says, her voice trembling.

  ‘It’s too humiliating to say. Unnatural things in the bedroom, if you get my meaning. Makes me feel sick to think of it.’ Lavender pretends to cry again and reaches into her bag for a tissue, balances the phone on top of the packet and sets it to record.

  ‘I knew he had a black heart!’ Morvoren shrieks, and points her finger at Lavender dramatically. If the situation wasn’t so serious, she’d laugh. ‘And it was me that set the fire. I’d set it again in a flash if my body would let me.’

  Yes! This information is beyond Lavender’s wildest dreams. ‘You did it, Gran? You set the cottage on fire?’

  ‘I did,’ she replies with a sickly grin. ‘Jamie helped because this bag of bones my spirit is forced to live inside wasn’t strong enough to lift and pour the petrol. But the filthy bastard Trevelyar wasn’t even in, was he? No, he was off meeting you!’ She wipes spittle from her lips. ‘I was sad about Jessica Blake getting killed. Mind you, sounds like she was a deceiver too.’

  ‘Bloody hell. I didn’t think you had it in you, not really.’ Lavender shakes her head and puts on a bewildered expression.

  Morvoren preens. ‘When I set out for retribution, I’ll do whatever it takes. He wouldn’t take the hint after the drugging and stripping. No, he came back for more. Well, he’ll get more. I’ll try again, and this time I’ll succeed. Matthew Trevelyar will not make old bones. He’s a stain on this village and needs scrubbing out. I pray I’ll be given enough strength and time to do it.’ She sighs and closes her eyes, leans her head back. ‘Feeling pretty rough now though.’

  Plucking out another tissue, Lavender switches off the recording. She’s got everything she needs and as far as she can recall, nothing that was said implicated her. ‘I’m with you there. Especially after what he’s just done to me. And I’m not surprised you’re feeling unwell with all that jollop they must have given you to take in hospital. I’ll make you a nice potion with the pickings instead and then we can have tea and cake. I brought your favourite.’

  Morvoren opens her eyes. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the cake and tea. Might have a nap. But I’ll have some later, thank you… And leave the pickings, I’ll make my own p
otion. I know exactly what I need for this evil growing inside me.’

  Lavender suspects she doesn’t trust her. Not surprising really, given their relationship over the past month. No skin off Lavender’s nose anyway. The sooner she’s out of there, the better.

  Chapter 34

  Well, well, well. What a turn up for the books. Lavender Nancarrow coming round here with apologies, cake and pickings. It’s almost too good to be true. Morvoren yawns and gets out of the chair. She hopes it’s the truth, but reserves her trust. She didn’t get to be nearly eighty by just trusting people at face value, even if they were family. If her granddaughter’s telling the truth about Trevelyar, which she suspects she is, he’ll be dead before Morvoren is. Nobody does despicable things to one of her own and lives to tell the tale. There will be a way to end him, and soon. Morvoren just needs to think of the best method.

  Lifting the lid from the tin, she looks at the three-layered chocolate cake. She pokes the chocolate icing with her finger and sniffs the blob on the end of it. Smells okay, but until she cuts it and examines it properly, she won’t be eating any. Lavender could have put lethal pickings in it for all she knows. Talking of which… She looks over to the sink where Lavender has placed the mixture of herbs and plants in a vase. Running her fingers along the various stems, squeezing bulbs and stroking petals, Morvoren smiles. The dear girl must have been as far as St Ives for some of this stuff. All very useful. That hopeless lump Jamie brought back half this amount the other day, and most of it was a waste of space. She shouldn’t be too hard on him, of course. He has no clue about the ways of nature.

  Through the kitchen window, in the fading daylight, she watches a mountain of clouds gathering pace over the valley. The wind’s got up and it’s hurrying them along the sky as if they’re late for a storm. Looks like rain won’t be far behind. How she loves this place. Morvoren has a sudden desire to be out walking in the wind and damp fresh grass; to look over the wild ocean from the cliff edge and let her hair loose. A sigh of regret. Not yet a while though. Her strength needs building before she attempts to leave the house on her own. Thoughts of Trevelyar filter in then, and her hands grab the edge of the sink until her knuckles turn white. He might not have done any of those things she told Lavender about before, but it turns out he’s just as evil as she expected. Trevelyar men are evil through and through. Always have been, always will be.