Still on the news was the confirmation that the pathologist and the coroner had been involved in the cover-up regarding Mr. Douglas’ death. The pathologist was being blackmailed because of a rape he had committed some years ago not long after his marriage. He was now being held in custody, charged with the perversion of justice. There was nothing that could be done about the coroner, or the judge as they were both dead, but an investigation was still going on to try and find the reason why justice had been perverted. There were reasons to believe that Judge Angus Stove Madwort was having an affair and that he undertook these illegal acts under the woman's influence. This was the proposal, but nothing was said who the woman was. Again, the late Judge Stove Madwort's family asked for respect from the media and the general public for their grieving. The family was withdrawing into itself, so nothing was going to be said anymore by them.
Going upstairs with J. J’s supper, I thought about this judge. I remembered seeing him just once when he demanded to see his son. And she had done this to him, Angel had allowed him to believe that J.J was his son as I realized now had John and Jeffrey Stanton. Who was the father of this child? And why did she lead these three men on to believe that each of them was the father?
And as for Jacob Barba, she also allowed him to believe he had a son or daughter; he had a family which he was coming to collect.
Oh my God, was she the catalyst who produced the judge's death?
‘What are you doing?’ Angel said from above as I was climbed the stairs.
‘I'm going to give J.J his supper.’ I felt insulted; the way she spoke to me was short and tart as if I was a performing monkey that wasn't doing its tricks.
‘You've got no time for that. You're to get ready, now.’
‘I think when it comes to feeding a child, the child takes priority.’
‘Give it to me, I'll feed him,’ she held out her hands while I approached her.
‘No, he is used to me feeding him. Besides, what is the rush? It's only just gone six. I shouldn't imagine anyone would arrive for a ball before nine o'clock at night.’ I had reached her and now was passing her. Madness was what I saw when I looked into her eyes.
She looked away for her own reasons. ‘Very well, but don't take too much time over it. This is my special night, and I want it to be a success.’
‘It will be,’ I muttered now walking along the hallway towards J. J’s bedroom door. ‘You always get whatever you want.’ And at that moment, I felt as much hate towards her as she probably did for me.
Poor J.J resisted the food I was trying to tempt him with. He had been crying while I had been out of the room to get his dinner. Feeling his cheeks, they were burning with a fever. Ice-cream was my next thought; this would soothe his mouth and give him some neat calories. Probably not the best nutrition for his diet but I judged it to be better than nothing.
Flying down the stairs to the kitchen, I thought it strange that none of the Peskers were there. But there again, since everything that was needed to be done had been done, they have taken this opportunity to go to their own sitting room for a breather. So, I helped myself and scooped out two spoons of cold vanilla ice-cream.
In the distance, I heard the sound of cars, throwing off the gravel away from their wheels. Surely the guests can’t be arriving this early, perhaps this was another special delivery.
My God, was that a scream? No, it sounded like the howl of a dog. I was putting the container of ice-cream back into the freezer when I stood my back a ramrod of attention. I held onto the freezer door, my hands were shaking. Then it went silent. It could have been an owl’s cry; they scream like that. If I didn't keep calm, I wasn’t going to survive the night. I remembered what Pesker had told me that in the countryside animals make a great deal of strange and unearthly noises. But why were they playing up tonight? They weren’t, it was my nerves. I had spooked myself.
Running upstairs back to J. J’s bedroom, I giggling to escape the loose ghosts of the dark.
Glad I managed to get at least something inside the child, I felt the comfort of love for him, though, in many ways I had failed him. When it came to it, I was going. Without a doubt, I was leaving him with his mother who did not care for him one bit.
Another scream, another cry into the night. Surely not the same owls again or, perhaps the dogs had caught themselves a fox. Poor creature if they had. All mammals sound the same when they cry in pain.
It was when I was coming out of J. J’s room to take the bowl back to the kitchen that I was caught by Angel. In fact, I believe she had been waiting for me.
‘You've got to get ready,’ she said grabbing hold of my hand so tightly, it hurt.
I tried to pull my hand away, but her strength and determination were far greater than mine.
‘I can dress myself,’ I said, looking at her iron fingers biting into mine.
‘We haven't got time to waste.’ She was pulling me along to her room.
‘Well, you get yourself dressed and I will get myself dressed later, and besides, we still have plenty of time.’
‘I will help you to dress. I want everything to be perfect.’
‘But there's nobody here yet.’
‘Yes, there is, I've heard the cars coming along the driveway,’ we were now in her room; I watched as she locked the door.
‘You know, you're worrying me. Why do you need me to be the one to go downstairs first?’ I felt aggrieved and ill-treated.
‘Because, when I come down, I want everyone to be surprised. You've got to do this for me, you can't let me down.’
‘But they won't know who I am,’ and while I was frowning, and wondering what it was she was planning.
‘Please,’ she begged, her eyes like a desperate creature. ‘If you do this for me, I will give you anything you ask for.’
‘Give me your son, and I will do this for you.’ I think I must be mad and perhaps I was, mad like Angel.
I don't think I have seen anyone look more incredulous. ‘If you want my son, you can have him.’
Such bargains are made from insanity.
28
And while she helped me to dress in one of her old dresses and did my makeup for me, I kept on telling myself I had a bargain. I had one of the things I had never wanted before, I had a child. And with this child, I would love him, I would take care of him. He would never suffer; I would give him a wonderful life.
Do not ask me where my head was. Walking downstairs dressed like someone from out of Versailles, I felt unearthly. She had found a wig, an old wig. One of the wigs she had worn, a blonde wig. I felt so strange and unreal. And even more unreal walking into the chandelier-lit lounge, which was ready and waiting to receive the guests.
To be the first one at a party is the biggest party pooper of all. I looked about to find something of interest, the canopies of conversation were too salty too tart, too this, too that; I was interacting with phantoms.
The crackling of the fire told me what was wrong, there was no music. And a party must always have music. Going across to the music center and opening the cupboard where the CDs were stored, I found myself humming from nerves and wondering if Jeffrey Stanton would be attending. Within the innocence of this thought, I knew this would affect me. He would recognize me and release my disguise to Angel. Oh, what an amateur I am at this game.
How stupid, stupid, stupid I am.
The brittle cascade of scalding was shattered from temper as shards of glass hit the floor. And there, standing at the French doors was the bloodied face of a warm-blooded man.
Was it me who I heard screaming? The entire room filled with this wild noise. And he had shaken open the French door and with eyes like feral torch beams, was making his way across to me.
‘There, there, sweet child, at last, I have you in my arms.’
I was a witness to the dead rising, as this was the muddied and bloodied face of John, but not my John. My John was here no longer, but this John was very much alive, and I could feel the
bear hug of protection guarding me against the outside, the realm where normal people inhabit, a reality that for him was too cruel.
Twisting in his arms and molded by his shape, I could not push him away. I could smell his earthly body; it was rich with the blood of fresh kills. Hadn't the dogs savaged him enough to prevent him from entering the house?
‘Oh, Janice, you have no idea how much I have missed you. Don't struggle little bird. Let me just hold you for once.’
‘But I'm not Janice,’ I tried to say, but only part of my voice came out for he was holding me closer to him than I had ever been held before.
‘You drove me mad when you never came to visit me. And when I thought it was you, I found that you had sent that fool, Hattie? What were you playing at, my darling?’
He held me back away from his face for this question, but he wasn't expecting an answer. I held my breath as I waited for that recognition. He was looking at the face he wanted to see, he wasn't seeing me, he was seeing her. The look in his eyes made me mute, and yet I fancied somewhere I had a voice.
‘I forgive you,’ he was smiling. ‘You don't need to fear me anymore because I forgive you. This world is not an easy place for people such as us.’
I frowned, who did he mean for people such as us? Was he thinking about Janice, because if he was, he didn't know her? Didn't know her before and certainly, didn't know her now.
‘I know everything about what you've done.’
I looked up, to examine his eyes, for I was curious.
‘I know it was impossible for you to visit me in prison. To see me of all people, tied up and locked away. And that's why I understand.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, I do. It would have been hell for you to come and visit me in prison, seeing me reduced to a caged animal. And I forgive you. I forgive everything you had to do to stay alive.’
And now, I really was astonished. ‘Why?’
‘Because I love you. There will never be anyone else. I could never love anyone as I love you and that's why I forgive you because you are a part of me. You are here.’ And with one hand he still managed to hold onto me, while he struck his chest, hitting it hard in the place where his heart should be.
He was like a wounded creature, a faithful dog that even beaten by its own master still returns devotedly. Whimpering, crouching and coming nearer for the hoped whisper of a kind word, or for the memory of the hand which had once stroked, but now beat.
‘I shall never let you go now. Your body is my body even though it has been savaged by others. I understand how they would feel about you. But you are mine, and I am yours. And even the judge could not come between us, although I know now, he tried to.’
‘Angus?’
‘Yes him.’
‘Is that why you killed him?’
He held back his head and released a roar of laughter. ‘I wished I had but you got to him before me. You got to him a matter of hours before me.’
‘You mean, Angel killed the judge, but I thought it was you.’
He held me away again from him, there was a puzzled look on his face. ‘Are you all right my dear, my sweetest child? You do not need to fear me; I am proud of what you've done because I know you did it for me. And we shall now always be together. This world is not for us. I shall hold you in an embrace which life will never be able to give.’
‘But I wish I could say that it was me, but it wasn't,’ I smiled up at him. I was in a world that had gone bizarre and what he was saying was insane. ‘Can't you see who I really am?’
‘You're my Janice,’ he wiped a hand across his brow still holding on to me tight; there was blood slipping down his face.’
‘No, I'm not your Janice, and I never will be. Your Janice is…’
‘She is Janice,’ came a voice from the doorway, a form standing back and away from us. An observer choosing to watch from a safe distance. ‘She is Janice,’ insisted this small figure, dressed as a boy and whose voice matched the guise it was in.
I was wearing Angel's clothes, I had on one of her old wigs, my makeup had been done by Angel. everything about me said I could be her. But I was not her and I was not prepared to die for her either. What romantic twist of fate was about to steal my life away from me?
He looked at Angel in boys’ clothes, and then he looked at me, baffled.
‘I'm not Janice,’ I suddenly found my voice again, for the quick chill of horror rose like rapid dawn of what his intentions were for his Janice. ‘Please, I'm not Janice.’
‘But you're not afraid of death are you my darling? We had always promised each other this is what we would always do to stay together. Don't you remember?’
‘But I am not your Janice, you can't kill me.’ I was terrified.
‘She is Janice, she calls herself Angel now. Kill her. Kill her. Kill her now.’
‘Janice, my love, we were meant to be together,’ the expression on his face was confused as he carried on staring at me.
‘If I were your Janice,’ I spoke slowly, gently and emphatically so he would understand. ‘I would willingly die with you for I can see you love her more than you could ever love me.’
‘Kill her, you fool,’ screamed Angel. ‘Kill her, kill Janice.’
There was a frown of bewilderment increasing on his face. And now I realized why Angel had applied so much makeup to my face. It was to conceal my scars.
‘Touch my face, please, touch my face, and you will find my scars.’ I was going as kindly as possible for the speed of death was closing in behind me and I knew that one twist from his powerful hands about my throat and my lungs would never fill with air again.
He did not know whether to touch me or not.
‘I came to visit you in prison. I was the friend Hattie sent. You wouldn't see Hattie, remember.’
‘If you don't kill her, I will,’ I heard the voice coming from behind. I knew it was Angel.
And then, I heard a gun being cocked and I knew it could only be Angel. If my death was not going to come at the hands of Jacob Barba, it was certainly going to come at the hands of Angel.
‘No!’
The rifle blew out a bullet ready for my back but the dance of an angel, pulled me around at such a speed that no percussion did I feel entering my flesh and yet, I could feel the vibration coursing through the frame of this big man. He fell heavily to the ground as if a great tree had just fallen. I could smell the gunpowder drifting in the air as blood spurted from the giant man's back.
He was dead, the echo of the gunshot ricocheted this fact over and over again, he is dead. I was now staring at a dead man; I had never seen a dead man before. And then I heard the bolt of the rifle being cocked again and saw that Angel had moved further into the room. She leveled her rifle and stopped.
‘It appears to get anything done, I have to do it myself,’ now spoke the angel of death.
‘What are you going to do?’ I was mesmerized as I watched her slowly walking towards me.
‘You have to die.’ She said, now holding up the rifle in the position to shoot. ‘Please standstill, it will make it easier for both of us.’
‘But why do I have to die? There is no need. I will say you had to kill him out of self-defense.’
‘No, you see, I need you to die. I need you to take my place,’ she parted her legs ready to take the shot. ‘You have to die because Janice has to die, and I need to be you.’
‘You want to be me?’ to be me was insane. ‘Why on earth do you want to be me?’
‘Because,’ she said, taking the rifle away from her face for a moment. ‘I want to be Mrs. Boreman. You, I know are, Mrs. Vivian Boreman.’
‘Janice, my love,’ Jacob had lifted his body by his elbows from the floor and leveled his gun. His blood-drenched hand-held tight to his pistol as he took aim to take its destined shot.
‘Jacob,’ gasped Angel, the pumping of her heart was now beating for all time.
‘You know I love you,’ he was looking at me.
&n
bsp; Then, the sound of a silenced gun hit the air, a plosive thud beat space back. Angel fell back staggering, twisting a macabre dance. I saw the baffled last expression spread across her face as she rode the waves of the targeted impact. It must have happened in less than a second, but her last dance will fill my mind forever. When becoming parted from her life, the surprise that now dawned on her face was that this was always inevitable.
Jacob Barba had come to claim his true love. Though bleeding and dying from the result of his wound, he had returned from hell to take her with him.
29
It would be convenient for me to say that I did not remember anything of that night, but I did. Time was behaving without regular rules. One moment, I was standing, floating almost moving in slow motion between two bodies and thinking that the masked ball could not go ahead and then, I was on the telephone in the hall, next to the Christmas tree asking to be put through to the police. The interview with the police was very strange. I was still in one of Angel's old dresses with a wig on though I was covered in a great deal of Jacob Barba's blood.
It was a long time before I got to the explanations, the details of who I was and why I was there to make sense and then recorded. But people are strange: they live their lives and run their course with rules often guarded in secrets.
What surprised me was none of the Peskers were being questioned, there was no one in the house except Angel's son and me. And when I said he was in his room, one of the female officers went to his room and took him out of his cot, still asleep she brought him down. I held my arms out for him, but she would not give him to me. I saw the route her eyes were taking and following and saw the stains of Jacob Barba's blood on me.
And so, here I am now, a wealthy woman. Jeffrey Stanton rang and told me he was going to visit me, I was now back in my flat and still wondering at the madness of this last few months when he arrived, ringing my doorbell.
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