Emma (27 page)

‘Do you want to?’ She didn’t answer at once, but there was something in her eyes. Suddenly the penny dropped. ‘He’s the one, isn’t he? He asked you to marry him years ago, but you said no and he went away.’

‘I regretted it as soon as he’d gone,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t realize how much I loved him until I’d lost him.’

‘Oh, Mum,’ I said, feeling pity for her. She had been tied to a man she didn’t love for years. ‘Why didn’t you write to him – ask him to come back?’

‘I didn’t know where he’d gone. Besides, Harold was courting me. He seemed such a wonderful catch, Emma. He would never discuss his folk, but I think he came from a good family. There was always some mystery about that; he would never talk about the past – even when he cared about me. And I think he did … at the beginning.’

My throat caught as I pictured her life, her regret and disappointment when nothing turned out as she had hoped.

‘You should have left Father years ago, Mum.’

‘I had you to think of,’ she said. ‘But you’re grown up, Emma. You’ve a good head on your shoulders. I shan’t do anything just yet, but when this is all over …’

‘Yes, you should marry him, Mum – if it’s what you want.’

‘It is,’ she said. ‘Bert still loves me, even after all this time. I think we can make each other happy.’

‘Good, I’m glad.’

James started to cry at that moment. I gathered him up and took him into the bedroom to feed him. Stroking his downy head, I crushed the worm of suspicion in my mind. Mother would not lie to me, surely? Yes, she had wanted to be free of her unhappy marriage, and she admitted making my father sick. But somehow, I didn’t think that the herbs she’d given him were totally responsible for his death. She would not have poisoned him.

Yet I had a terrible feeling that someone might have done just that.

I woke with a start as I heard the splinter of breaking glass and knew it came from the back yard. Someone was breaking in. And I knew who it was.

Richard had a key to the back door, but it was bolted inside. He would not have let that stop him. I lay listening, and then I heard someone moving about downstairs. I crossed my fingers and hoped Richard had come looking for money, praying he would be satisfied with what I’d left in the till.

I heard it ring as the drawer was opened, then something went flying and I heard a smash as if a glass jar had broken. No, it was probably the cabinet with the silver cigarette cases. I had left that locked, and they were the most valuable items in the shop. Richard might be able to sell them somewhere, and he would need money now that he was on the run from the law. Would he come upstairs?

I lay waiting, hardly able to breathe, for some time. The noises had stopped downstairs. Was Richard still there, waiting for me to go down and investigate? It would be the worst thing I could do in the circumstances. Locked in my room, with a chair lodged under the handle, I was surely safer than I would be downstairs.

The minutes passed slowly. Had he gone by now? I got up, reaching for my dressing gown and slipped it on. Creeping softly to the door I leaned my head against it, straining for the slightest creak. It was ages since I’d heard the last sound.

I unlocked my door and stepped out into the darkness. Immediately, I sensed danger. He was here, waiting. I could smell the strong odour of oil which always clung about him. Reaching for the light, I switched it on, flooding the hall, to see him standing just a few feet away from me. He had bread and cheese in his hand, and a bottle of beer.

He sneered at me. ‘I knew you would come if I waited long enough,’ he said. ‘So you’ve been telling tales about me. You know what that means.’ He moved towards me. I retreated, my heart racing wildly.

‘Stay where you are, Richard!’ I said, holding out my hand to ward him off. ‘If you touch me, I’ll scream.’

‘So what?’ he sneered. ‘Who’s going to rescue you now? Your mother – or your precious Gran?’

‘I know you killed her. Only you made one mistake, Richard. She wasn’t quite dead. She told us it was you who attacked her.’

‘I thought she was dead,’ he muttered. ‘I should have hit her again to make sure.’

‘Yes, you should,’ I said. I could see that the door to the spare bedroom had opened just a crack and my fear of Richard faded. ‘That was your mistake. You killed my grandmother and you’ll hang for it. The police will arrest you and I shall stand up in court to—’

‘I’ll shut your mouth once and for all,’ Richard took a step towards me, his fist raised. ‘I showed that old hag what I thought of her and I’ll show you. Harold cheated me of my rights. The mean old bastard! I thought I’d fixed him good and proper. He had the last laugh, after all, but you …’

‘What do you mean?’ I was seized by a sudden suspicion, my blood running cold as everything began to slot into place. ‘You gave him something. Something to make him ill …’

Richard’s lip curled over his teeth. ‘I found some tablets in that desk downstairs. I was looking for money but I found the tablets instead – there was arsenic in them. The fool had been taking them, and they were making him ill – so I helped him along a little. He was taking some foul medicine or other. I crushed the tablets up and put them in that stuff your grandmother gave him.’ He laughed triumphantly. ‘If they had suspected murder it was her they would’ve blamed.’

‘You devil!’ I cried, my voice rising angrily. ‘You murdered my father to get the money you knew he had left you – and now you’ve killed Gran. You’ll hang for certain, Richard Gillows.’

‘No one knows but you,’ he said. ‘And if you were to have a little accident, like falling down the stairs, who would know?’

He made a movement towards me, then stopped as the door to the spare room opened wide and a man stepped out, carrying a shotgun.

‘I’d know for one,’ Bert Fitch said. ‘I’ve heard every word you said, Gillows – and I’ll stand up in court and repeat it for a judge. I’ll see you hang cheerfully. And if you lay a finger on Emma or her mother, I’ll shoot you like the dog you are.’

Richard stared at him, his mouth open. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

‘Mrs Robinson sent for me,’ Bert said. ‘We’re friends, see, and I’m staying here to protect her.’ He glanced at me. ‘Emma, put your coat on and run for the police.’

Richard looked at me. He was between me and the stairs. He could have tried to grab me, but Bert was raising the gun to his shoulder, taking aim. Suddenly, he threw the beer bottle at Bert, then turned and made a dash for the stairs as the gun went off, but misfired, the barrels winging upwards to the ceiling, bringing down a shower of plaster.

‘Damn!’ Bert said. ‘Sorry about that, Emma. I never meant to fire, that bottle jerked my arm.’

‘Bert!’ Mother had come to the door of her room. She looked terrified. ‘What happened? You promised me you wouldn’t fire that thing in the house.’

‘It wasn’t his fault,’ I said. ‘Richard was here. He was going to hit me. Mr Fitch came out and stopped him.’

‘He threw a bottle at me,’ Bert said. ‘Sorry, Greta. I didn’t mean to scare you.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, although the colour had left her face. ‘It’s a good thing you were here, Bert.’

‘Yes, it was,’ I said. ‘I didn’t really think he would try to harm us, but Mum was right. I’m glad you were here.’

‘It was a pleasure,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘That man is a menace, Emma. Neither you nor your mother will be safe while he’s around. I’m going to go next door to ask Mr Baker to alert the police, then I’ll come back here and sit up all night.’

‘I don’t think he will come back,’ I said, smiling as I recalled the look on Richard’s face as he’d seen the shotgun. ‘He doesn’t know you didn’t mean to fire. He won’t risk coming here again.’

‘Perhaps not,’ he said and grinned. ‘But I’d best make sure, just the same. You go with your mother, Emma, and lock yourselves in until I get back.’

‘Leave the gun with us,’ I said. ‘Just in case he does try.’

Bert hesitated, then put the gun into my hands. ‘It still has one barrel loaded. Be careful. Look – this is the safety catch, don’t touch that unless you have to.’

‘I shan’t,’ I promised and smiled at him.

I took the gun into my mother’s bedroom, leaning it in a corner with the catch on as Bert had showed me. James had started to whimper in his cot. I bent over him, stroking his face with the tips of my fingers.

‘You’re not hungry,’ I whispered, ‘no, you’re not. It isn’t time yet. Go back to sleep, little one.’

Mother was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her face was still very pale. She glanced at me as I left James to settle and went to sit beside her, taking her hand.

‘I heard what Richard was saying,’ she said, and I felt her tremble. ‘I never dreamed what he had done. Harold had asked for more of Gran’s mixture. I gave it to him, Emma. It was after that he started bringing up the blood.’

‘You didn’t know what Richard had done. None of us knew he was capable of murder. You can’t blame yourself.’

‘No …’ She raised her head, her expression one of determination. ‘No, I shan’t any more. I’m going to put it all behind me. I’m going to marry Bert as soon as you’re settled.’

‘Yes, Mum,’ I said and kissed her. ‘You do that.’

‘You should go with that nice Mr Reece,’ she said. ‘You’d be safe then, Emma.’

‘We’ll see,’ I replied. ‘I’m not sure yet. I can’t think properly – not until all this is over.’

The police came round the next day to take my statement about the break-in and advise about new locks on the doors and windows.

‘We are looking for him, Mrs Gillows,’ the young officer told me,’ but so far we haven’t been able to find him. All we can do is keep a watch on this place.’

‘I don’t think he will come back,’ I said. ‘Mr Fitch scared him off. He thought we were alone, but now he knows my mother’s friend is staying, he won’t risk coming back.’

‘It depends how desperate he is,’ the constable said. ‘He’ll know he’s being hunted, and he’ll need money to get away.’

‘He took money and some valuable cigarette cases last night – but they were his to take under the terms of my father’s will.’

‘Well, just you be careful,’ the officer said. ‘We’re doing our best, Mrs Gillows, but it may be a while before he is apprehended.’

I thanked him and he left. Afterwards, I went down to the shop. Ben had cleared away the mess of the smashed cabinet. I looked at the empty space on the wall and shivered, remembering the look on Richard’s face the previous evening as he had threatened to kill me.

‘It’s all right, Emma,’ Ben said as he saw my face. ‘If he comes in here, I’ll protect you.’

‘Thank you, Ben,’ I replied, not allowing my smile to show. ‘But I don’t think he will – not during the day.’

‘He deserves a birching afore they hang him,’ Ben said. ‘There are a good many around here would be pleased to do it, given a chance. Your Gran was a nice old lady. She cleared a wart off Ma’s hand once, never charged her a penny for it – and Ma ain’t the only one neither. I reckon there’s some would do for that so-and-so if they could – they’d teach Richard Gillows a lesson he’d never forget.’

‘Yes, I expect so,’ I said, and shuddered convulsively. ‘Could you manage in here if I go into the stockroom, Ben?’

‘You know I can,’ he said. ‘Do anything for you, Emma.’

I smiled at him and went into the stockroom. I was feeling upset by everything that had happened. All the things I’d discovered about my father’s illness and his death. If I had never married Richard … if I hadn’t let Paul make love to me … none of this need have happened.

And yet Father had been planning even before that – he had been thinking about marrying me off to a man he trusted. A misplaced trust, as it turned out.

How could he? How could he have made such an scandalous bargain with Richard? By doing so, he had made both Mum and me hostages for life – or that’s what he had intended. He had wanted to make sure that neither of us could ever leave this shop. But I would. I would leave as soon as Richard was arrested. I wouldn’t stay here a moment longer. I felt angry. So angry that Father had tried to manipulate our lives. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right.

I was standing next to his roll top desk and, in my fury, I suddenly gave it a tremendous thump. Damn Father! Damn him for leaving Mother and me with nothing!

As I thumped the top of the desk, the roll front fell down with a clatter. I thumped it again for good measure, taking my frustration out on the old piece of furniture. Then, as my anger left me, I laughed instead and pushed the roll back again, revealing all the little drawers and pigeon holes. For a moment as I stared at it, I couldn’t think what was different. Then I realized that one of the little pillars which separated the pigeon holes had somehow shot forward. I reached out to push it back, then realized it was a secret drawer – open at the top.

I had heard of them, but never imagined there was one in Father’s desk. I took hold of it, trying to pull it out, but it fell from my hand because it was so heavy. My heart raced as I tipped the contents out onto the desk. It had been packed with small brown envelopes and each one made a thud as they landed on the wooden surface. I picked one up and looked at the writing on the envelope.

‘Golden guinea, 1860’

‘Golden half guinea, 1790’

The writing was my father’s, and it was on every envelope, listing the coins inside. Every one of the coins was gold, some were sovereigns, some guineas – some Roman coins.

My father had been a collector of coins. So this was where his money had gone.

I stared at his secret hoard. Most of them gave no indication of the value, but even at face value there were hundreds, perhaps a thousand or more, pounds.

It was quite a find, and it was mine. My eyes stung with sudden tears as I realized Father had left me my independence after all. He might have made his bargain with Richard, but he had left me a way of escape.

Yet why couldn’t he have spent some of this money on Mum and me? Why hadn’t he let me make up my own mind about marrying Richard? Had he only been kinder, he might still be alive.

I glanced in the drawer again. At the bottom there was a scrap of paper which hadn’t come out with the coins. I stuck a pencil down and levered it free, shaking it down into my hands. Opening it, I saw it was a message in Father’s writing, and it was to me.