The Twisted Way (31 page)

‘She’s still living there,’ the red-headed publican told him. ‘Are you a friend?’

‘Oh, no, she was a friend of my father’s many years ago.’ He was anxious not to draw attention to his interest in her and hoped he had not said too much. Ronald wanted to bide his time and consider with care how he would approach Janet. It had been a long time.

Holidays with Aunt Janet and Uncle James, and later briefly with Janet, had been a refuge for the quiet and introverted child after his mother had died and his father had been away from home most of the time. He hated Northumberland and the time he spent there with his father’s aunt and uncle. They were old wrinklies, fussy and lacking in affection, far too ancient to understand his needs although he had understood that they were well meaning. Two young children must have been hard work for them. He could not wait to escape from them so he studied hard and eventually obtained a degree in dentistry, after which he emigrated to Australia as soon as he could make the arrangements. A new start in a new country was what he needed. Felicity was now remembered as an unfortunate relative, spiteful and lacking in conscience, a sister whom he did not want to see again as long as he lived. He received the odd postcard from her, views of mountains and bears, but, after a brief check to see if she, horror of horror, was anticipating visiting him and his family, relegated them to the dustbin. He sent her the occasional Christmas card and postcard and that was more than enough.

At the age of sixty-two he found himself a widower and alone in Melbourne, his only daughter having married and moved to Queensland. He set off on his travels after taking a well-earned retirement from his practice and after stops in Singapore and Paris eventually arrived in Russetshire. From there he planned to revisit Northumberland and his first home in London. There was no hurry and Australia and the retirement residence he planned to buy, possibly on the Whanregarwen Road in Alexandra, not too far from Melbourne, could wait. The incentive was not the same without his wife and soulmate of so many years. Primrose House was the first place that had roused a real spark of interest in him during his trip. He wondered if Aunt Janet would welcome him with open arms after so many years. She had been kind to him, unlike his Uncle James.

Ronald stepped gingerly along the brick path in front of Primrose House, which was uneven and flaking in places, invasive moss and weeds were wrecking havoc despite Robbie’s intensive efforts. As Felicity had earlier, he noticed the new knocker and bell push. He tried them both after attempting to rehearse for a few moments in his mind what he would say to Janet if she answered the door.

Silence pervaded. He tried the bell once again. It appeared that nobody was coming to open the front door. It’s quite likely that Aunt Janet is deaf, he cogitated as he walked round the side of the house to where he remembered the kitchen door had been years ago, with a small flight of rickety iron steps leading up to it. I’ll try that, he thought, there was a light shining from a window on the side of the house, someone must be around. The steps and door to the kitchen were there, just the same as he recalled them.

He climbed the icy steps with care noting the frosty white crystals glittering on their edges. He knocked on the door but the only sound he could hear was the wind whistling through the bare branches of a nearby birch tree. The normally attractive and well cared for garden was deserted and cloaked with grey-white winter dullness. He tried the black iron latch that protruded from the kitchen door and discovered it lifted easily under his hand. Stepping into the kitchen on to the red polished tiles, just as he had as a small child, he called out ‘Hullo,’ several times but nobody came, causing him to glance with unease around the large old kitchen that looked much the same as it had in the past. The scrubbed pale pine kitchen table he remembered was in the centre of the room and a battered tin tray was placed in the middle of it. There were some tea cups, saucers and small plates on it together with what he imagined were sandwiches or cakes covered with a clean cloth. The smell of smoked salmon and egg sandwiches reached his nostrils. Hmm, Aunt Janet must be expecting someone to tea, he thought. He called out again to try and rouse Janet or a possible house maid, to no avail. He looked at the old Aga; memories of sitting on a wooden stool next to it when he was a small lonely child mourning for his mother came back with startling clarity. A picture of Felicity trying to force his hand and thin young arm on to the hot plate on the top of the stove in the hope that he would squeal like a pig going to the slaughter came into his mind. It was a sharp memory and so clear that it could have happened yesterday. More often than not he did squeal and he still had some scars on his arms to prove what had happened but had not told anyone how he got those, even his wife. She had asked him a few times but he had been too frightened and ashamed to tell anyone about the burns. There had been no doubt in his mind at the time it happened that Felicity would have thought of something more cruel with which to torment him if he had told anybody. He realized now that she had been jealous of her little brother, unhappy and restless, and had forced some of her misery upon him.

A cold voice calling out to Janet that tea would soon be ready cut across his reminiscing. Footsteps approached the kitchen. Oh God, a Canadian accent and a grating familiar voice like chalk being sharpened by a blunt tea knife reached out to him from the past – it could be Felicity – yes, he was sure it was. His heart was beating and bumping so fiercely in his chest that he was convinced it could be heard. What on earth could she be doing here? Sponging on Janet was the first thing that came to mind. He turned with unusual speed towards the back door and opened it but as he stepped out he collided with an elderly man. Instinctively his arm shot forward to fend off the newcomer. There was a sickening bouncing sound and final thud as the man fell down the steps and hit the ground. The stranger opened his eyes briefly and appeared stunned. Panic set in. The man was not dead, thank goodness, but Ronald would, quite out of character, have to make sure he remained unconscious for a while. He could not risk meeting Felicity or having the man describe him, at least not until he was well away from the scene. He carefully shut the kitchen door, crept as quietly as he could down the metal steps and picked up a large stone from the side of a bed that had been planted with wallflowers by Robbie ready for the spring. Without thinking he brought the stone down with some force on the side of the man’s head. Not too hard he thought, at worst that would give him a bad headache. It should enable him to get away from Primrose House without being spotted by Felicity or recognised if the man gained consciousness too quickly. He was not wearing gloves. Oh God, fingerprints and DNA. He dipped the stone into a watering can that had been left at the side of the steps. That would deal with some of the problem anyway. He looked round the deserted garden, heaved a sigh of relief and made his way to the gate as fast as he could walk. The whole venture had been a mistake. He had forgotten what tumultuous emotions Felicity evoked in him as a child and could even now after so many years. At last he could admit that he hated her. It was a relief. She was a psychopath and he would like to get rid of her once and for all if the opportunity ever came his way, though he was not sure if he had enough courage to murder anyone. He was highly principled and it was alien to his naturally gentle nature. What had she done to him?

He scurried down the road to the Green Man and told the landlord that he had decided not to stay the night after all. He swiftly placed his luggage into the boot of his hired car and without delay left Enderly and its associated memories behind him. He needed time to think and recover from the feelings of sheer blinding panic that had reared up when he heard his sister’s voice. He turned the car northwards when he got on the motorway at Russhampton. Northumberland could be a good peaceful place for a while, but he would be back when he had recovered from the shock of the recent events at Primrose House. A clever man like he was should be able to plan a suitable revenge for the misery Felicity had inflicted upon him in the past. He had not thought about that for many years but bile now rose up and he felt an unpleasant burning in his chest which would not be easy to remove. His hate was beginning to override his commonsense.

The red-headed landlord was for a moment perplexed when Ronald cancelled his booking. He was sure he had seen the man somewhere before. That tapir like nose and the strange flecked blue eyes appeared familiar. Perhaps he resembled someone he knew. Oh well, he would probably remember later on. He shrugged his broad rippling shoulders and disappeared into the cellar to do some stocktaking before his busy evening began.

The bridge sessions in the Green Man at Enderly were becoming very popular. Some new members had joined the 
club and there were at least eight tables in play on Tuesday 
evenings. Overall they were a friendly bunch of people. Felicity and Marianne had a few arguments but were soon able resolve their difficulties. Felicity was far more interested in watching Robbie, or Tom Hands as she thought of him, and wondering how she was going to deal with him. He was a respected member of the club and her Aunt Janet needed his assistance in Primrose House. He drove her to the shops and was generally, she had to admit, useful. What was his game though, working incognito? There was no doubt in her mind that he did not need the money. He must be peculiar but not so odd that he would not take a good chunk of money if it was left to him in the old girl’s will; nobody was that daft she told herself, or were they? She attempted to ignore any pleasant feelings she had towards him. She found her thoughts centring far too often round the enigma and she wondered too how much longer Janet would live. She estimated that she could not live more than another year or two. She would have to resolve the Tom Hands problem fairly soon though she had begun to wonder if Robbie’s share of her aunt’s money was large enough to worry about.

Jeremy Mace, shattered by the death of his son and father within such a short time, was admitted to Russhampton Hospital after suffering a stroke and was not expected to live more than a few days. Felicity anticipated with interest that there would soon be another funeral to attend. Jeremy was now unlikely to inherit any of Aunt Janet’s money and that at least was, for her, a good result. That silly lazy old Jeremy has got his come-uppance, she told herself with satisfaction.

One evening at the bridge table a few days later she had to stop herself laughing out loud during a game when she thought about him and found her mind wandering. Marianne’s puzzled and annoyed stare urged her to concentrate on the cards in her hands. Their opponents did not mind and were quick to take advantage. Felicity felt Marianne’s warning foot touch hers. She instantly relaxed and knew she was being silly to be thinking about Jeremy’s imminent demise and worrying about Robbie’s name being on Auntie’s will. She should be concentrating on her game of bridge which was more enjoyable and important than her daydreams about money; they could wait.

The next couple they played that evening were Patsy and John. Felicity had dubbed them the lovebirds and enjoyed watching their gauche efforts to communicate their obvious deep affection. Felicity experienced a genuine glimmer of friendship for the odd couple which was alien to her usually abrasive nature. Patsy and John were now regular bridge partners and Robbie had found a new partner, a young man he had first met in Little Brinton. At first Robbie had found him conceited and arrogant, but they played well together in spite of his earlier reservations.

Felicity found it difficult to understand why the skinny Patsy had not jumped at the chance of getting closer to John Elk. He obviously adored her but they rarely showed any physical closeness, just the occasional linking of arms like old friends. She wondered if they would ever get round to tumbling into bed together and her mind deviated once again as she considered the possibilities. They reminded her of a couple of stick insects, clumsy and ungainly as they circled around each other.

Patsy too was wondering the same thing. She was perplexed and concerned about her strong feelings for John. Could she force herself to share a bed and have sex with any man? He was a perfect gentleman. The habit of repressing any natural sexual urges had been with her for a long time though her reserve was beginning to crack. Her feelings for the opposite sex had remained dormant for so long, making the stirring in her lower body that surged without warning when she looked at John Elk very difficult to control.

She squinted at John through her modern oval glasses with their expensive light titanium frames. Her face softened and she longed to stroke his vivid springy ginger hair, feel it curl round her fingers and touch his strong masculine chin. Could she do it? She sighed and he glanced at her with undisguised concern. If only that wretched boy in Germany had not hurt her, mentally and physically. She was an intelligent woman and knew that it was about time she came to terms with that horrific incident. She had wasted too many years fretting over that German boy, probably the best years of her life. She could have got married and had a family, then ... well she would not have met John. He was worth waiting for. ‘Hartz Mountain God’, she remembered she had labelled the German boy. He had blond hair and broad shoulders. She had fancied him and had been too easily led into the bushes on the last evening of the holiday. She still remembered the Brinton Comprehensive School Band and the German School Band playing together, the music loud and skilfully blending, German beer for the adults, sausages and mustard with bread rolls and lemonade for the young bandsmen and women. She had wanted him to make love to her, but instead he had raped her, brutally and painfully, then laughed at her with derision, leaving her sobbing and shattered, convinced that she could not be attractive to any man and her best course in life would be to steer clear of the male sex. It was a secret she had kept too long and she had allowed the memory to fester and ruin her life, until now.