No point in getting beside herself. He’ll get what he deserves by and by. Right. Now for the cake. She turns from the view and goes back to the table. Carefully, she slips her hand in the tin and lifts the cake out and onto a plate. A messy affair because of the icing and the layers. About to lick her fingers clean, she remembers her concerns about Lavender’s intentions. Would she really poison her grandmother? Morvoren thinks not, but she can’t afford to drop her guard. She cuts a slice and chops it into smaller pieces. Hmm, smells okay. There’s a sense of disquiet in the pit of her belly, however. Something’s telling her not to eat it. While the cake might be perfectly fine, she can’t risk it… can she? A moment later, her gut wins and she tips the lot into the bin. Better to be safe than sorry.
Yawning again, she decides to make a cup of tea before having a nap or making the potion. No point in tiring herself out. Jamie said he was coming over about seven o’clock with some more pickings, such as he finds, and a glance at the clock tells her it’s only five. She’s a few hours yet. Looking forward to her nap, she runs water into the kettle and flicks it on while she tidies the kitchen a bit. As she’s stirring her tea, the back door slams so hard she drops the teaspoon with a clatter. Bloody hell, that gave her quite a start. Lavender must have left it ajar, silly girl. Best go and make sure it’s shut now.
In the corridor, Morvoren can see it’s not shut, because the wind is opening and closing it for fun as if it’s a naughty child. The latch has got stuck up in the air somehow – it’s a bit rusty. She’ll have to get it sorted, maybe even get a new one in the spring; if she’s still here, of course. About to close and lock the door, she hears an almighty crash come from the direction of the shed. Buggeration. What now? Grabbing a shawl from the peg and a stout walking stick, she goes out to investigate. The wind immediately grabs her long steely hair and wraps it around her eyes. She stops to wrest it free, twists it into a ponytail and stuffs it down under her shawl. Right, off she goes again. If it’s a badger after her stored veg like it was last year, she’ll give it a whack with this bloody stick. Varmints.
Back in the house, she takes off her shawl again and hangs it on the peg, noticing her flushed face in the hall mirror. Her breathing’s laboured too – such a little trip has taken it out of her. And a trip for no reason either. No badger, fox or anything, just an old plant pot inexplicably smashed in two next to the shed. It was as if someone had chucked it down on the patio slabs. But why? No. It must have been the wind blowing it over from somewhere, that’s all. Okay, now for that tea.
The smell coming from the bin as she chucks the tea bag inside makes her mouth water. Perhaps she was a bit too hasty dumping the cake. Lavender is a good girl at heart. Always has been. The necromancer Trevelyar just cast his spell for a while, but now her granddaughter’s free of it. It takes more than a mortal man, demon-ridden or no, to quell the spirit of a Penhallow woman. A Penhallow woman who’s won her spurs in the art of herbal lore. Learned at the knee of her grandmother. Morvoren’s heart swells with pride at the thought. Her stomach grumbles at the scent of the cake too. Oh well. Nothing to be done about it now. She’ll have the tea and then a nap. Cheese on toast after that, and then Jamie will be here.
Through the window, the rain clouds have melted into the night sky. They’re evidenced by a patter of drops on the window though. Morvoren closes the curtains, puts the lamps on and stokes the fire. Everything looks so cosy and welcoming. God, she’s glad to be home instead of in the hospital. At last, seated in the chair by the fire, she lifts the mug. With all this faffing about, it’ll be lukewarm now, but she can’t be bothered to make another. Morvoren takes a long drink and then bangs it down on the side table. What the hell! It’s bitter as acid. She sniffs the tea. A faint tendril of a memory – of a picking – comes, but she can’t grasp it. Then the cough starts.
Morvoren stumbles to the sink, gagging and coughing. Her airways feel as if they’re closing over. She needs water, but her hands are trembling. She sees a glass of juice on the side she can’t remember pouring, but grabs it, takes a big gulp… only this is worse than the tea! The liquid burns an agonising path through her gullet and she falls to the floor, clutching her throat. The name of the picking smashes into her consciousness like a wrecking ball. Wolfsbane! She’s been poisoned with wolfsbane… Lavender. It had to be her! Oh God, how could she have been so stupid? The crash from the shed had been to tempt her out…
Oh God, Lavender, you sneaked back in and poisoned my tea and the juice. No wonder Morvoren couldn’t remember pouring it.
Morvoren’s losing feeling in her face, and her limbs are heavy. She’s coughing but can’t suck in enough air. Her heartbeat feels laboured… erratic… There’s a pain in her chest. She doesn’t want to die, not yet, not like this. She has so much more to do. Trevelyar needs to come with her…
She must have been on the floor for a long time because the microwave clock is showing a digital green 6.32pm. Jamie will be here soon. He’ll save her…
In the next few moments, she thinks she must be hallucinating, because there’s Terry again, a young man, fit and strong, and her heart leaps with passion. How she loved that man. Loves him still. Now, a scene of herself and Elowen running through a field of buttercups, bright with sunshine, daisy chains around their heads and wrists. She remembers it as if it were yesterday. They had such fun times in the days before the conniving bitch stole the love of her life.
As the scenes shut down and darkness enfolds her, she prays to God to spare her, promises she’ll leave Trevelyar alone. Promises to be good… but unfortunately for Morvoren, God’s not listening.
Chapter 35
Matt leaves Lavender to sleep for a while longer. It’s only just past half six, and she was pretty done in after the tension of visiting Morvoren yesterday evening. Thankfully, the recording worked this time, so they have the confession they need. Incredibly, Lavender managed to capture the relevant bit without implicating herself. She’s so clever. After breakfast they are going to take it in to DI Price. Tiptoeing out of the room, he shrugs on his dressing gown and yanks his hair from where it’s trapped between the gown and his back, over the collar. It’s way past his shoulders now, but Lavender doesn’t want him to cut it. Suits him she says.
The kettle and toaster on, Matt goes to the window to open the blinds and notices an envelope shoved under the back door. Lavender’s name is scrawled across it in pencil and it’s not sealed shut. Should he open it? It’s not addressed to him, but he has a feeling it’s not good news. Sliding a finger under the flap, he pulls out a scrap of note paper.
Called late last night but you didn’t answer. I called four times! Came round earlier on my way to the police station just to deliver this note. If you are at all interested, your grandmother died yesterday evening. Jamie found her at seven when he popped round with her herbs. Police are involved as it looks like she’s been poisoned. Ring me if you can be bothered.
Dad
Matt almost drops the letter, his hands are shaking so much. Poisoned. Who the fuck has poisoned Morvoren? Out loud, he says, ‘Oh my God.’
‘What are you oh my Godding about?’ Lavender says as she comes downstairs, stretching and yawning.
Matt shoves the note in his pocket. What does he do now? He can’t just spring it on her, can he? ‘Er… I’ve put the toast on. Have a sit down, love.’
She frowns, ties the belt of her bath robe and sits at the table. ‘What’s going on? You look a bit shifty. Odd.’
Matt smiles and runs her a glass of water. Why, he has no idea – he’s seen people do that on TV when they have a bombshell to drop. Or was it hot sweet tea? It might be tea. ‘Want tea?’ He turns and smiles again.
‘Not until you tell me what the hell is wrong. Your smile looks like it’s been painted on by a clown.’
Matt concedes defeat. He pulls the note out of his pocket and sits opposite. ‘This note was pushed under the door.’ He doesn’t give it to her, just holds it up. It’s Morvoren�
��’ He sighs and hands it to her.
Lavender takes the note but doesn’t unfold it. She looks at Matt. ‘Is it bad?’
‘Yes. I’m so sorry love. I’ll get you that tea.’
‘No. I don’t want any,’ she says in a small voice, and unfolds the note. ‘Oh my God, Matt. Poisoned? What the hell?’ She tosses the note on the table and covers her face with her hands.
He goes round the table and kneels by her chair, pulls her into his arms. ‘It’s nuts. And how do they know she’s been poisoned already? It was only last night. They won’t have had time to do a post-mortem will they?’
Into his shoulder, she mumbles, ‘I don’t know… This can’t be happening. Cannot.’ Then she jumps up and runs upstairs.
Matt starts after her. ‘Hey, where are you going?’
‘To get my phone. We put it in the safe, remember? Just to be extra sure because of the bloody recording.’
Matt does remember. After they’d listened to the recording last night, he’d suggested they find a safe place to keep it overnight, just in case something mad happened, like Jamie breaking in. Lavender had a small safe where she kept the cash float from work – in the spare room cupboard. She’d locked the mobile away and that’s why they hadn’t heard the calls from her dad.
Moments later, she comes downstairs again, her face ashen, tears streaming down her face, phone pressed to her ear. ‘Dad? Yes, I just got the note.’ She sinks down on the sofa. ‘I can’t believe it.’ She listens and then sighs. ‘But are they sure she was poisoned? Couldn’t it have been her illness? Because that seems the most logical to me… No, Dad, of course I’m not a doctor. Okay, calm down, I… Yes I can come down to the station to meet you. I was going to…’ She shakes her head in despair at Matt. ‘Oh, never mind, see you soon.’
‘What were you about to say just then, but changed your mind?’ Matt asks.
‘I was about to say I was going to the station today anyway with the recording, but it all seems so pointless now. And so heartless given the circumstances. Besides, won’t it look a bit suspect, me probably being the last person to have seen her alive?’
Matt releases a long breath and puts his head in his hands. She’s right, but the truth must be told. Perhaps he’s selfish, but he needs to clear his name and the confession certainly would do that. ‘Suspect or not, you didn’t do it, Lavender. We need to stick to the plan and turn the recording in.’
‘But what about my dad? He’d never forgive me.’
‘Maybe not. But at least he’d have solid proof that you were not to blame – that his own mother was an evil old witch who’d stop at nothing to get her revenge.’
‘But don’t you see, Matt? I was there not long before she died. They might try to say I poisoned her after I got the confession.’
‘Hmm, what would be the point in that? You had the confession. Why kill her? You wanted her punished, and my name cleared.’
Lavender nods and ponders this for a few moments. Then she stands up. ‘Yeah. Okay, phone DI Price and tell her we want to see her immediately. I’ll give her the recording and tell her exactly what happened yesterday before they even have a chance to think about pulling me in for questioning. And we need to make a copy before we do. If the recording goes missing somehow, we’re up shit creek.’
Matt takes her in his arms. ‘Take a moment. Are you sure you’re okay? It must be a huge shock and so sad that a woman who’s been in your life for so long is now gone.’
Lavender looks into his eyes. ‘It’s a shock, yes. But I’m not sad. The old Gran had gone months ago…’ She raises her eyebrows. ‘If in fact there really was an old Gran. Maybe Morvoren has always been hateful deep down. If she’d lived, she’d have been put in prison probably, after the police got the recording. Might be the best thing all round that she’s gone.’
‘Might be. But you’re allowed to be sad, despite everything she did to you, did to me. Remember what she was like when you were little. Everyone has some good in them somewhere – hang on to the happy memories.’
Lavender brushes away tears and takes his hand. ‘Yeah. Come on, let’s get this over with. The sooner we do, the sooner we can get on with our lives.’
* * *
Lavender wishes she’d never come. Wishes she’d thrown the recording in the sea and left well alone. DI Price and DC Vincent listened to the recording, but then questioned her for two hours. Then they asked Matt in and are now questioning him too. Price and Vincent asked her to wait outside the interview room, as they want to have a further ‘chat’ after they’ve finished with Matt. Dad popped in and practically accused her of murder after she explained to him that she was at Morvoren’s and about the recording. Even if he does eventually believe her, Lavender can’t see that they’ll ever be the same again.
She sips a cup of water and rehashes the whole sorry mess again. Morvoren came into contact with poison – almost certainly ingested. The doctor who was called out to certify her death was alerted by the blister burns on her lips and a rash on her neck. He said the poison might have triggered a heart attack or stroke, but a post-mortem would be the way forward. In Morvoren’s kitchen and living room, half a cup of tea and some fruit juice had been discovered. These were analysed and significant quantities of plant-based poisons were found in them. DI Price had read out their Latin names to Lavender and she knew immediately they were referring to wolfsbane and foxglove. Why the hell would she take those? They were two of the most deadly plants to be found anywhere. It didn’t make sense. Surely, Morvoren knew what they were – her brain wasn’t that addled…So she must have been poisoned by someone. But that didn’t make sense either. Morvoren would have done her best to fight back if someone forced her to drink.
Just then, the door opens and Matt comes out. He has no time to say anything as Lavender is called back in to the interview room immediately. She sits back at the table and the tape is switched on. Once again, the police officers stress she can leave at any time, which right now is exactly what she feels like doing.
‘Right, Lavender, this won’t take long. It seems like we’re not coming up with an awful lot. Matt can’t really shed any more light. He corroborates your story and is as baffled as you as to why your grandmother died from poison.’ Price scratches her head and does the shoving-the-glasses-up-the-bridge-of-the-nose thing she always does. ‘Once again, can you think of anyone who would want to poison Morvoren?’
‘As I said before, no. Although, as you know, she wasn’t my favourite person, nor Matt’s, but we wouldn’t poison her. And I’ve been thinking while I’ve been outside. My grandmother would have put up a huge fight if someone had forced her to drink it. She might have smelt it, and the taste of it would have been incredibly bitter. In the struggle, her face would have been blistered too, as the liquid was spilt. Did she have facial burns?’
Vincent says, ‘Not as far as we’re aware.’
‘But couldn’t it have been a mistake? You said she was going to make a potion for her ailments after you’d gone,’ Price asks.
‘No way. Anyone who practices herbal lore knows about the dangers from day one. It’s one of the first things I learned as a child. Morvoren would never mix up such deadly plants. And where would she get them from? I saw none when I was there… You can find foxglove at this time of year, but it will be few and far between – unless she’d frozen them? That’s possible. She might have been planning to bump Matt off with them. Check the freezer.’
‘Are you being serious?’ Vincent asks.
Lavender shrugs, ‘Yes. You heard the tape. But you didn’t see her face when she said she’d try to kill Matt again. Pure hatred. It made me shudder.’
‘So now you’re saying she could have mixed them up? Taken something from the freezer which she thought would help her illness and picked the wrong one?’ Price asks.
Lavender ponders on this. ‘It is possible I suppose, because the frozen batch might not be as recognisable as the fresh. But even so… it is a very long sho
t. Surely she would have labelled it carefully.’
Price nods. ‘I’ll get someone to take a look at the freezer’s contents.’
‘Still feels far-fetched to me,’ Lavender says, almost to herself as she thinks aloud. ‘If I had to guess, I’d say that she decided to take her own life. Why, I have no idea, because she seemed pretty pleased with herself when I left. Perhaps she’d just realised what she’d done and wanted control of when and how she went. Doubtful though.’
‘It’s a possibility. And as you say, Lavender, if someone had tried to physically poison her, she’d have struggled,’ Vincent says.
Price finishes her notes and sits back in her seat. ‘Okay, I think we’re done for now. We’ll know exactly how your grandmother died when we get the post-mortem results. It’ll take a while, so we’ll let you know when we know.’
‘What about evidence from the recording? My grandmother has escaped prosecution, but she did say Jamie helped her. Will you arrest him?’
‘We’ll look into it again. But he has an alibi, and we only have the word of your grandmother. You kind of recognised him but you couldn’t say it was Jamie one hundred per cent. She’s no longer with us, so… not sure the Crown Prosecution Service would want to run with it.’
The Feud Page 22