For everything you did in life, there were consequences, and there would come a time when you had to face the consequences of your actions. Robert knew that he couldn't move forward until he had laid this ghost to rest.
It was a Catch 22 situation.
By doing right, by returning the medal and apologising to Mr Wallace, Robert could end up dead. Yet, if he did not, he could not move on. He would slide back to being Big Wee Rab, and then he would soon be dead too.
"Dammed if you did, dammed if you didn't."
The bottom line however was that Robert was sick of Big Wee Rab. He hated his old self. He enjoyed being Robert. He wanted to get to know his new self more.
He wanted self-respect.
Robert sat in the car for hours, thinking, talking to himself, trying to find the strength to do what was right.
It took a lot of courage, more courage than Robert ever thought was actually in him: but in the moment that Robert finally made the decision, he became a man: the prospect of death was very real to him, yet in spite of the danger and the risk, Robert opened the door, stepped out of the car and walked toward his new future.
He walked across the road, opened the gate and walked up the garden path.
When he got to the door, he crossed himself- something that he had seen Gavin and Stella do-, and he rang the door bell.
.
He soon heard footsteps.
Chapter Eighty Five
.
.
The Fox and Hounds
Knutsford
May 7th
6.55 p.m.
.
.
Peter was tired.
All afternoon adrenaline had been pumping through his body. He could not believe what had transpired in such a short time.
Peter was absolutely sure that he had found the place where KK had been living. And even more incredible was that they had found the German! It would only be a matter of days or hours before the identity of the 'German' would be discovered, and once Peter told Alex his news, the police should also be able to easily track down the identity of the person who had lived in the old house...
However, immediately that thought had occurred to Peter, he realised the futility of it, and he had a sinking feeling: "Shit...KK was living under a false identity! The chances are that even if they could prove that he had lived in a house in Forest Rise, that they would discover another dead end. A false identity.
KK was a ghost.
In more ways than one.
.
As soon as he could, Peter had left the scene of the murder. Over the past week he had seen enough of the Forensics teams and how they went about recovering a body from a grave site.
It no longer interested him or held any special attraction to him.
Peter had but one wish now.
To fuck Carolina again.
To lose himself in her breasts.
To kiss her. To hold her.
In fact, ...just to be with her would be nice.
If only he could see her this evening...
.
There was a knock at the door.
He rushed to it, his heart beating, praying that it was not Alex or the landlord. Hoping...
"Hi Peter," Carolina said as soon as he opened the door.
"Wow... What a fantastic surprise...and you...you look...stunning!"
It was true. Carolina did look great, although whether she had gone to more effort than normal tonight, Peter couldn't tell. Perhaps she just looked 'great' all the time.
"Do you want to come in?" he asked, opening the door wide.
Carolina smiled.
"Honestly? ...Then the answer is 'yes'. But I know what would happen if I did, ...and ...firstly, I don't know if it's right...although it would be very, very nice....And secondly, my shift at the bar starts in five minutes. So it has to be a 'no' for now, I'm afraid."
"Okay..." Peter started to reply. "Actually, it's not okay, I was hoping to see you this evening."
"So was I. I still am." Carolina replied. "I just came up to see if you would like to walk me home later. To come over to my house? I've made us a little light supper, and I was hoping we could maybe talk...Don't worry, Sam will be asleep when we pick him up, and we'll put him straight in his cot. And then we can spend some time together...if you would like to?"
Peter could see the question in her eyes: the hope that he would say yes.
"I would like that," Peter replied."Very much."
.
--------------------
Craigmillar
7.05 p.m.
.
The door opened, and Mr Wallace slowly came into view.
Robert was shocked to see the change that had occurred in the man in such a short time. A sudden, intense feeling of guilt ran through him. Was this down to him? Had Big Wee Rab done this?
.
Mr Wallace’s eyes started to focus on the man standing in front of him on his doorstep. He couldn't see him properly because his face was covered in a hood, and the light glaring from the streetlight behind, made it difficult to see any details.
Mr Wallace turned to his right, and flicked on the light in the vestibule of his home. Light now shone on the man in front of him.
His brain was so slow nowadays, that there were times when he struggled to focus or be aware of everything that was going on around him. But then other times, he was as bright as a button. Able to think just as good as he ever could. Able to remember life as it used to be, but would never be again.
There was something terribly familiar about the man on his doorstep. His posture. His height... He reminded him of...he reminded him of ...
And then it dawned on him. It was Big Wee Rab!
Instantly Mr Wallace came wide awake.
.
Robert saw the recognition in the old man's eyes, that sudden dawning as the realisation of who he was suddenly hit home.
Robert was expecting the old man to slam the door in his face or to step back quickly and retreat into his house. What happened next surprised Robert.
The old man stepped forward, stood up tall and puffed out his chest, squaring up his shoulders. He looked directly at Robert.
.
In the instant Mr Wallace recognised Big Wee Rab, his mind became fully alert. Anger flooded his veins, blood pumped to his arms and legs, and Mr Wallace felt immediately stronger, more powerful, younger.
Mr Wallace was going to kill this man. He was the last person in his vendetta, in his reprisals against those who had decimated the estate. But this was not the time or the place.
Did Big Wee Rab know that it was Mr Wallace that had murdered his other gang members? Had Rab come back to kill him first? To take revenge?
If he had, Wallace was not going to run, or cower as the thug chased him inside and killed him in his own home! Wallace knew that he would not be able to make it to his gun. He would not be able to defend himself against the powerful young man before him now.
Mr Wallace was going to die anyway, and if this was going to be the moment, so be it.
He would face it like a man.
Like the soldier he once was.
Mr Wallace drew himself tall, breathed in and spoke.
But what happened next surprised Mr Wallace.
And brought tears to his eyes.
.
Robert saw the courage in the old man, and something in his heart broke. Whereas Robert did not yet have respect for himself, in that moment the respect he had for the honourable man in front of him, doubled.
Robert was so much younger, so much stronger, and yet was so very weak. As a man, Robert was nothing.
And yet, this man before him, had seen and done more than Robert ever would. He was old, infirm, and so very fragile, yet there was a spark in the man before him that Robert now saw that he had never noticed before...
Mr Wallace was an impressive man.
There was so much that Robert could learn from him. If only things
had been so very different.
Robert reached up and pulled down his hood.
He lowered his hands to his sides, and for a second he simply looked at Mr Wallace.
Then he spoke. He spoke slowly and clearly in his best English, reciting the speech that he had written and practiced over and over again. Trying his best to get it right.
"Mr Wallace. Please do not be scared. I dinnie expect you to understand me. But I have come here tonight to apologise to you. To seek yir forgiveness. And to return to you something that I should never, ever have taken from you."
"...If you choose not to forgive me, then you yourself can decide what you wish to do with me. I will not care. I will accept your judgement. But I am here to beg for your forgiveness. To ask you to have mercy and judge me kindly. And if you give me yir forgiveness, I would like to request that we can talk. There is so much I want to say to you."
"...I have to tell you about the wrong I have done to you, so that you will understand and believe that I know and feel the pain that I have caused you. It's important to me that you understand the regret that I have for the wrong that I have done."
Robert paused. Taking a breath. Then slowly, he reached inside his jacket and took out a small box. He lifted the lid off, revealing a medal that rested on several buds of cotton wool, and inserted the box into the lid beneath it.
Placing the box in the palm of both hands, he stretched his hands out, facing the old man.
"Mr Wallace. My name is Robert. I used to be called Big Wee Rab. I stole this from you. And now I am returning it to you. I am so very sorry..."
His voice quivered, and broke, and suddenly Robert was crying.
He looked into the eyes of Mr Wallace, tears rolling down his eyes.
Mr Wallace looked back.
Incredulously.
He looked down at the box containing the Victoria Cross, looked back at Robert, and then started to cry too.
.
Mr Wallace stared at the box in front of him.
He saw the boy take the lid off, revealing his Victoria Cross inside.
He heard the words the boy spoke.
He recognised the gesture of submission that the young man made, hands out stretched, head slightly bowed.
He saw the tears in the young man's eyes.
He watched in disbelief, as the young man knelt down, placed the box and the medal on the footstep in front of him, and then stood back.
Mr Wallace was confused. What was going on? Big Wee Rab was one of the next people on his list of people to kill, and yet, here he was, on his doorstep, begging for mercy. Asking for forgiveness. And returning to Mr Wallace the most precious possession that Mr Wallace had ever owned: his Victoria Cross.
Mr Wallace coughed. A raucous cough that wracked his body and then led to another cough, and yet another. He was suddenly very weak and short of breath.
He looked at the young man in front of him, wondering what he should say or do next. Then suddenly the world went black and the ground came rushing towards him. Mr Wallace had fainted.
.
Robert saw Mr Wallace start to topple unsteadily on his feet. He saw the colour drain from his face, and his yellow eyes start to look up and go back and up into his skull. As he began to fall, Robert stepped forward and caught him in his arms.
Supporting his full weight, Robert wondered what to do next. Was the old man dead? Had the shock killed him?
Robert turned and looked around him on the street, suddenly conscious that he was standing on his doorstep in full view of any passers-by.
Without a further thought, he swooped the old man up into his powerful arms and carried him through into Mr Wallace’s front room, pushing the doors closed behind him with his foot.
He lay Mr Wallace down on the sofa, and then bent forward and listened for a breath. Thankfully, he felt hot air on his cheek, and relief flooded through him. The old man was still alive.
As a child he had once seen someone faint in the streets. He had been with his mother, and she had immediately gone to the other person's assistance, putting her shopping bag under the person's head, and then gently lifting the person's legs to help the blood flow back to the head and brain.
Robert stood up, and slowly lifted Mr Wallace's feet up, just as his mother had done all those years ago. Mr Wallace's eye lids fluttered, and then opened.
He coughed, blinked, and then focussed on Robert.
"Mr Wallace, don't worry. You fainted but you're gonnie be fine. You are in your front room now on your sofa. I carried you inside? ..."Robert said. "I'll get you a glass o’ water...hang on a second...I'll be right back..."
Robert hurried out of the door to the kitchen.
.
Mr Wallace's head cleared. He felt better now. He struggled to sit up, and when Robert came back into the room, he helped him up, and offered him the glass.
Mr Wallace sipped the water down.
"Shall I call you an ambulance?" Robert asked.
"No son, I'll be fine. Leastways, there's no point in calling the ambulance. What I've got, they cannie help me with. I'll be okay in a mo."
"Shall I make you a cup o' tea? Or do you want something harder? Do you have any whisky?"
"A cup o' tea would be lovely son...But can you help me across to my armchair first, please?"
The young man helped Mr Wallace up, and together they moved slowly across to the chair.
Mr Wallace sat down, and then Big Wee Rab disappeared from the room. Mr Wallace blinked, took several deep breathes and tried to clear his head.
He knew that time was running out for him. His strength was coming and going in waves. Each day he was weaker than the day before.
He had done a lot in the past week, and it had exhausted him. His task was not yet finished, but Mr Wallace was beginning to think that he would never be able to finish the job he had started. He still had not recovered from the effort of killing Tam.
He could hear Big Wee Rab fussing in the kitchen. Doors opening, closing. Taps running. The kettle boiling.
Mr Wallace bent forward slightly, reached underneath a pile of papers in the corner of the room beside his armchair. The plastic bag underneath was heavy. He lifted it up, and put in on his lap, leaving the gun in the bag.
This was all very confusing for the old man. He was not sure exactly what was happening. The man he was sworn to kill was now in his kitchen, making him a cup of tea...?
Or was he rummaging through his stuff, looking for money again? Had he come back to steal the stuff he had left behind last time? To kill him? A tit-for-tat murder in reprisal for the deaths of Tam and Jamsie and Wee Eck?
He reached into the bag, and grabbed hold of the gun, deciding that perhaps he should defend himself first and kill Big Wee Rab if he came back into the room. Shoot him dead before the bastard could kill him.
He heard footsteps. He was coming back...
.
Robert appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray, two cups of tea, and some biscuits. As he turned into the room, he got the shock of his life.
Mr Wallace was sitting in the armchair, a gun pointing straight at him.
For a moment, neither person spoke to each other. Robert stared at the gun, partly in disbelief, and partly in resignation. Was this how it was going to end?
His heart was beating uncontrollably fast, and his hands began to shake.
"I'd better put the tea down, otherwise I'm gonnie spill it all o'er yir nice green carpet."
"You do that son. And come in here and sit doon. Over there."
Robert put the tea down on the table, and was about to sit down on the sofa, as instructed, when a sudden thought occurred to him.
"Oh no! We left yir medal outside on the doorstep...I'd better get it, or some wan else'l nick it!"
Robert dashed for the door, the muzzle of the gun following. For a second Robert thought that the old man would shoot him, and that the last thing he might hear would be a loud bang, and then lights out...but no
thing happened.
Thankfully the medal was still there.
He picked it up quickly, looked up and down the street, and then walked back inside, closing the door behind him.
"Can I give you yir medal?" Robert said at the door to the front room."And then ye can shoot me if ye want. But maybe we can have a cup of tea first, and then you can decide what you want to do?"
He reached forward and placed the medal on the old man's lap and then stepped back.
"Shall I pour?" Robert asked, immediately reaching for the teapot."Do you tak’ it black or white?"
"White. And can you reach me o'er a couple of them Digestives. I'm right peckish."
Robert looked at the gun pointing at him. He was petrified, but amazingly very calm. He felt torn between the urge to run and the desire to stay. He had come for forgiveness and could not leave until he had either been granted it, or had been dammed by the old man.
"Mr Wallace, I'll put this tea on yir little table, beside yir chair. And the biscuits too...Listen, why don't you put the gun down while ye drink yir tea? I promise I won't run away. I've come far too far, and I cannie leave until ye give me yir blessing, or ye kill me, or call the police, or whatever ye decide to do."
.
Mr Wallace stared at Big Wee Rab. He looked at the gun in his hand. He thought about simply pulling the trigger, and ending it all. And then he looked at his medal on his lap.
Mr Wallace didn't understand why Big Wee Rab had not run away. Before Mr Wallace's fuddled brain could decide what to do, Big Wee Rab had made it to the front door, and then the boy had come back in again, carrying his medal!
None of this made any sense.
He looked at the gun again.
"Son, I dinnie ken what yir doing here. Maybe yir here to rob me again, or maybe to mug me for a few pennies. But none o' that makes sense. You brought me back my medal, so I'm thinking that maybe you want the reward?"
Big Wee Rab shook his head.
"No. I don't. I stole that from you, and I dinnie deserve ony reward. I just want you to have it back. Back where it belongs. The Evening News can keep their money. I dinnie want it."
Mr Wallace stared at the boy. If Big Wee Rab didn't want the reward money, then what did he want?
"Listen son, I've no idea what you are doing here! You dinnie seem like that same wee lad that tried to kill me that last time ye wir here. I think ye should tell me, in yir own words like, where ye've been and what on earth has happened to you. I'm going to drink my tea and have ma digestives. When ye’ve finished, we can decide who's going to kill who, or if there is some forgiving that could be done."
BOX SET of THREE TOP 10 MEDICAL THRILLERS Page 43
