The Wild Seed (49 page)

A shot rang out. Above her, Meadows gasped as if reeling from a sudden punch. His eyes were suddenly wide as a dark stain of blood formed on his jacket. The hand at her throat fell away and Hari dragged air into her lungs gratefully.

Slowly, Meadows toppled over, his mouth open, the light of anger dying out of his glazed eyes. Hari sat up, gagging, her head reeling. Dimly, she saw Doreen standing a few paces away, her face was white but the gun was held tightly in her hands. Meadows tried to rise but he was a dead man even before Doreen aimed and fired once more, shattering his jaw, sending blood flying in all directions.

Hari scrambled to her feet as Doreen turned the gun on the now silent band of men. ‘Piss off out of ’ere before you gets the same.’

The men melted away like shadows and Doreen, her eyes huge, sank to the ground, the gun falling from her hands. She looked up at Hari. ‘I had to do it, he would have had you, no bother. He don’t care who he soils, the bastard!’

She was quite calm as she pushed herself to her knees. ‘Go, Mrs Grenfell, send someone to get Constable Danby, he’s an honest policeman, he’ll do what is right.’ Suddenly, Doreen was crying, great gulping sobs shook her thin frame. Her eye was black now, her mouth swollen so that it was difficult for her to talk. Hari took the trembling woman in her arms.

‘Don’t cry, everything will be all right, you were defending me, there was no other way of stopping the man.’

The two women knelt together in the roadway, the body of Doreen’s husband lying a few feet away from them, head twisted at a grotesque angle.

At last, Doreen stopped crying, she leaned wearily against Hari’s shoulder, her energy sapped, reaction was setting in and she began to tremble violently.

Hari helped her to her feet. ‘Come on, you are coming with me.’ She looked round for the horse and trap, she was afraid that the sound of the gun would have made the animal bolt but he was beneath the trees, head down, chewing the grass.

Hari helped Doreen into the cart and climbed into the driving seat. ‘Try to be calm,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘You did what you had to do, there was no other way, just remember that.’

But as she drove towards home, Hari was swallowing hard, her throat still ached from the grip of Meadows’s fingers. Surely the state that they were both in would convince anyone that Doreen’s action was justified, but the law was sometimes the ass that people claimed it to be. Who knew what the opinion of some ancient judge in a dusty wig, with even dustier ideas of womanly duties, might be?

She closed her eyes for a moment and then, with an air of determination, urged the horse to a faster pace; the sooner she got home, within the boundaries of Summer Lodge, the happier she would be.

‘Doreen, how are you feeling now?’ Catherine opened the door to the small room in the hospital where the curtains were drawn against the daylight. Quietly, she moved towards the still figure in the bed.

Doreen stirred and opened her eyes. ‘I hurt, I hurt all over, love, but then I’ve hurt like this many times before when that bastard has had his way with me.’

It had been Jerry Danby who had advised that Doreen went into the hospital. That way, he explained, he would not have to lock her in a cell. He was not entirely sure what he should do with a murderer but it had been clear to him that Doreen needed care and attention, not locking away.

‘Know something awful, Cath?’ Doreen said, her voice hoarse. ‘I’m glad he’s dead, glad he can’t hurt me nor anyone else ever again. I know it’s a sin to kill, the Bible tells you that, but there was nothing else I could do. He’d had his way with me, beating me, shaming me in front of all those men and then he was going to do the same to Mrs Grenfell. I couldn’t let him do that, could I?’ She was crying, tears running down her cheeks unchecked. Catherine sat beside her and held her hand.

‘Anyone with guts would have done the same as you,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think about it, you just rest and get better, right?’

‘And when I get better, what then; prison?’ Doreen’s eyes were anguished. ‘I don’t think I could stand it, not being shut away in a jail.’

‘It won’t come to that, Mrs Grenfell has got the best lawyer she can from London, you’ll be all right, you’ll see.’

She did not care to tell Doreen of the rumours that were rife in the town, rumours that Bethan Hopkins had hired the best prosecuting counsel she could find, a man of grim determination and with a hatred of the lower orders from which he himself had risen.

Julian Fitzgibbon had been seen riding through town with his nose high, as though the stink from the works along the river bank was a personal affront. He was determined to prove that Hari Grenfell was involved in the murder of Sergeant Meadows, influenced, no doubt, by the very large amount of money Mrs Hopkins was able to pay him.

The door opened and Catherine looked up. Her hands were suddenly cold, her face drained of colour. ‘What are you doing here?’

Boyo Hopkins entered the room quietly, he was carrying a basket of fruit and a huge bouquet of flowers. He looked pale and drawn. ‘I don’t know how but my wife is involved in this mess in some way.’

Catherine fought the mingling of pity and love that rushed into her blood and moved to the window. Boyo must solve his own problems, if his wife was acting like a mad woman then it was up to him to sort it out.

The silence stretched endlessly but Catherine forced herself not to look round. Finally Boyo spoke again. ‘I came to offer my help, it looks as if you might need it, Doreen,’ he said quietly.

‘Why should you want to help me?’ Doreen asked in genuine surprise.

‘Just say I do not like to see any injustice being done.’

‘What injustice?’ Doreen struggled to sit up against the pillows. ‘What do you mean, do you know something I don’t know?’

Catherine turned sharply, willing Boyo to look at her, when he did, she shook her head warningly. He read her well and she could see him searching his mind for the right thing to say. ‘Usually women come out of such a situation as this badly. Judges do not take account of the ill-treatment meted out by a husband to his wife, I am afraid the odds are nearly always stacked in favour of the man. Money and influence always helps.’

‘I don’t want your charity, though it’s kind of you to offer, I’m sure.’ Doreen lifted her chin. ‘I did what was right, I did the only thing I could do. They was all going to watch while Mrs Grenfell was … well, you know what I mean.’

Catherine could see by the tightening of Boyo’s lips that he knew all too well what Doreen meant. ‘Well, my offer stands,’ he said at last; ‘you just have to send for me and I’ll be there.’

Catherine walked with him to the door and closed it behind her. ‘Thank you, Boyo, for not telling Doreen about the lawyer your wife has hired, she’s worried enough as it is.’ She suddenly felt awkward being with him.

‘Bethan has changed,’ he said, ‘she is like a woman possessed, there is no reasoning with her, I can’t even talk to her any more.’

‘Then it’s not true that she’s having your child?’

He frowned, ‘I told you once, it’s just not possible. Why won’t you believe me, Catherine?’

‘How can you not know!’ Catherine heard the anger in her voice and changed the subject abruptly. ‘Look, thank you for your offer of help, we might have to accept it. Doreen has no money and Mrs Grenfell is not very rich, not any more, thanks to your wife.’

Boyo sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry for all that Bethan has done, I don’t know how to deal with her strangeness, sometimes I fear for her sanity.’

He was suddenly vulnerable and Catherine could not bear it. She began to walk away from him but he caught her in his arms, holding her close. She clung to him for a moment as he smoothed back her hair, ‘Catherine, what a mess I’ve made of things.’

She pulled away from him abruptly. ‘You made your bed, as they say.’ She turned and went back into Doreen’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.

‘The bastards!’ Craig was pacing the room, he had been unable to relax ever since Hari had returned home, her face white, her clothes covered in blood. ‘If I had been there I would have shot the lot of them. Worse than animals, don’t deserve to live, not men like that.’

‘Hush, love, it was days ago, now, it doesn’t help to go on about it.’ Hari rubbed at her eyes, she wished he would calm down, it was over, Meadows was dead.

‘To think that man put his hands on you, I can’t bear it.’

‘Look, Craig, he paid for what he did with his life. I came to no real harm, not like poor Doreen who was hurt and humiliated before all those louts.’

‘But it’s not over, is it?’ Craig sank into a chair. ‘There will be the ordeal of going into court, telling all who wish to hear what happened out there, it’s going to give you so much pain.’

‘I did no wrong.’ Hari was suddenly angry. ‘For heaven’s sake, Craig, stop this before you drive me mad.’

He looked at her. ‘I’m angry for your sake, love, can’t you see that? My job is to protect you and I was not there to do it.’

‘There, you see? It’s your masculine pride that’s hurt most, your sense of honour, you can’t take your revenge on Meadows so in a subtle way you are taking it out on me.’

‘Rubbish!’ Craig leant forward in his chair. ‘That’s just arrant nonsense.’

‘Is it?’ Hari suddenly felt too weary to argue any more. ‘Let’s not quarrel over it, Craig, please. Every time you speak of it you remind me of how frightened I was, can’t you see that?’

He was silent for a moment and then he moved across the room and knelt before her, his head in her lap, his arms around her waist. ‘I’m sorry, Hari, I’m a thoughtless fool! You’re right of course, I want to batter someone into the ground and I can’t.’

She smoothed his greying hair. ‘Don’t let this hurt us any more than it has already, Craig, we are both going to need all our patience and strength to face the gossips in the weeks to come.’

‘Come on, Hari, I want to make love to you, I want my wife in my arms, I want to kiss those wonderful lips of yours.’

Hari allowed him to lead her to their bedroom and when they were both naked beneath the sheets, she clung to his broad shoulders with an urgency she had forgotten she possessed. As her husband made love to her, she knew that in some strange way they were renewing their vows, declaring their love afresh. She realized then that the ordeal she had faced would not drive them apart but would bring them closer than they had ever been before.

As Boyo Hopkins rode across the rocky ground towards Ty Craig, his shoulders were slumped, his spirits low. He would try to reason with Bethan once more, tell her to drop the whole matter of Meadows’s death, it had nothing to do with her.

With a little planning, a little discussion with the right people, the whole tragic incident could be dealt with quickly. What had happened was a clear-cut case of self-defence and Boyo was confident he could find the men who had been present at the shooting and persuade them to tell the truth.

He reined his animal to a halt some distance away from the grim, grey stone of the house, trying to marshal his thoughts. If he could convince Bethan that she should not be taking this course of action it would make things so much easier.

With the weasel of a man she had brought in to act posthumously in Meadows’s defence, the case would be a long, drawn-out affair. Julian Fitzgibbon would produce witnesses who would lie, or at best bend the truth. He knew that a case could go either way, it was a matter of who the judge chose to believe and what chance would Doreen Meadows have against a man like Fitzgibbon?

He jerked the reins and the animal moved forward slowly, as though reluctant to proceed to the shadowed walls of Ty Craig.

The groom appeared quickly at his side and took the horse, leading the animal towards the stables. Boyo took a deep breath and moved under the arched doorway and into the house.

Bethan was sitting in a chair, some papers in her hand, she looked more animated than Boyo had seen her in a long time. ‘Boyo, you’re home. Come here, darling, I want to talk to you about this Meadows business. Isn’t it too bad when a member of the police force, going about his lawful duty, trying to relieve an overheated woman of a dangerous weapon, gets himself killed?’

So that was the way the prosecution meant to go and such an argument might well work if witnesses could be brought who were not above perjuring themselves.

‘I want to talk to you about that very subject, as it happens,’ Boyo said quietly, taking a chair opposite his wife.

‘Oh? Why am I not surprised by that?’ Bethan’s pale eyes clouded so that he could not read her expression. ‘What does this mean to you, what do you care about Hari Grenfell or this Meadows woman?’

‘I could ask you the same question,’ Boyo said quietly. ‘Let it go, Bethan, it does not concern you any more than it concerns me.’

‘Oh, but it does concern me,’ Bethan said at once. ‘Meadows was helping me out, he was at the spot near the so-called emporium on my business; of course I should concern myself with his death.’

She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. ‘Is this going to affect your little fancy piece by any chance?’

Boyo ignored her words. ‘Haven’t you exacted enough revenge?’ he said. ‘Hari Grenfell is all but ruined, Catherine has lost her farm, her home and is out of a job. Her cousin’s land is useless. How far do you intend to go before you satisfy your lust for punishment?’

Bethan looked at him, her head on one side. ‘There is only one thing that will persuade me to let this matter drop.’ She waited until she was sure she had his full attention. ‘I have not told you the wonderful news yet, Boyo: I am expecting our child.’

‘Rubbish!’ Boyo was on his feet. ‘Bethan, see sense, I have not slept with you, how can you be pregnant?’

‘But you did sleep with me,’ Bethan said, ‘one night when I was not feeling very well. Remember you sat by my bed, we drank a hot drink together?’ She smiled. ‘You did not stay in your chair all night, of course.’

Boyo remembered, with a feeling of ice running down his spine, the scratches on his back, marks like those of a woman’s nails. He had put it out of his mind, convincing himself there must have been a rational explanation for the marks. He looked at his wife and she nodded.