The Legacy: Trouble Comes Disguised As Family (Unspoken Book 2)

by T. A. Belshaw

  ‘She’s going to be fine, Jess. They’ll move her onto a ward later tonight.’

  ‘Can I see her, please? I just want to see her.’

  ‘She’s been sedated, Jess, so there would be little point. Wait until she’s been cleaned up a bit. You really don’t want to see her as she is.’

  ‘I do… Only for a minute, please?’

  Tracey shook her head. ‘I’m sorry, Jessica. It’s not possible. We need to question her before she’s allowed any visitors.’ She patted Jess’s hand. ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to see her tomorrow… the day after for sure. I know it’s difficult for you, but honestly, don’t worry, she’ll make a full recovery.’

  ‘Jessica Griffiths?’

  Jess’s head snapped up as her name was called out, hoping that the authorities had changed their minds and they were going to allow her to see her mother after all, but it was just the young doctor, giving her permission to go home.

  ‘Shall I organise a taxi?’ Tracey asked.

  Jess shook her head. ‘No, it’s all right, my friend will pick me up.’

  Jess pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped Sam’s name on her contact list. She arrived ten minutes later and walked worriedly alongside, as Jess, now equipped with an underarm crutch, hopped her way down the corridor to the A&E entrance.

  Chapter 44

  The next morning, after phoning the hospital and receiving a positive update on her mother, Jess drove with Sam to the police station where she gave a formal statement, detailing everything she knew about the events leading up to her father’s death. After signing the statement, she was told that she would be allowed to visit her mother on the following day.

  ‘We’ll be talking to her this afternoon,’ the officer told her. ‘When she’s released from hospital, hopefully in a day or so, we’ll take a formal statement, here at the station.’

  ‘Will you… is she… are you going to charge her with an offence? She was only defending herself,’ Jess asked.

  ‘The Crown Prosecution Service will make that decision after we present them with all the evidence,’ the officer replied. ‘We’re still waiting for the Post Mortem report. We should have the forensic report in the next few days.’

  ‘You mean she could be facing a murder charge? That’s insane. She was defending herself.’

  The officer looked sympathetic.

  ‘I can’t promise anything, Jessica. It’s unlikely that she would be charged with murder, given the circumstances, but, when you look at it, the only person who really knows what happened, is your mother.’

  ‘It was self-defence,’ said Jess, firmly. ‘You don’t need forensic evidence to see that.’

  The detective held up her hands.

  ‘We’ll just have to wait and see what comes out this week.’ She leaned across the table towards her. ‘Look, Jessica. Don’t worry about it yet. I know that’s easier said than done, but just hang in there. Until we speak to your mum, we won’t be able to make any sort of decision.’

  The officer leaned back in her chair. ‘Does she have a solicitor? We can arrange one for her if not?’

  ‘Will the solicitor have to be present when she’s questioned?’

  ‘Not this afternoon. She’ll be seeing our Domestic Abuse Support Officer, but when we question her formally, she will need one.’

  ‘I’ll organise that,’ said Jess, ‘I know… I’ll find someone.’

  The detective scooped up the papers from the desk and tapped them into a pile. Then she stood up and opened the door of the interview room. As Jess limped out on her crutch, Sam waved to her from a bench near the entrance.

  ‘Are we going to the hospital?’ she asked.

  ‘No. They won’t let me see her until tomorrow. They want to question her first.’

  ‘Bugger.’ She held the door open to allow Jess to hop out, then, after getting her settled in the car, she drove her home.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay, Jess. You shouldn’t really be alone after what’s happened.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Sam. I really do need to spend a bit of time on my own to process all this.’

  ‘I’m not so sure. I honestly think you need a shoulder.’

  ‘I’ll call you if I do, Sam.’ She gave her best friend a hug. ‘Promise.’

  ‘I’ll come back in the morning; I’ll give you a lift to the hospital.’

  ‘What about work?’

  Sam shrugged. ‘Let me worry about that.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, thanks, Sam.’

  She started to get up from the sofa, but Sam pushed her back down. ‘I’ll see myself out, love. You just rest up.’

  When Sam had gone, Jess went through to the kitchen and made coffee, then sitting at Alice’s old table, she sighed, then put her head in her hands.

  ‘How has it come to this, Nana?’ she whispered.

  Sliding Alice’s old notebook towards her, she ran her fingers lightly over the cover and opened it to a short chapter she had bookmarked.

  August 1940

  It became a regular event to look up from our labours to see squadrons of German bombers fly in from the coast on their way to bomb London and other industrial targets along the Medway and Thames. On the fifteenth I was having a strip wash in the kitchen after feeding the pigs, when Stephen came running in from the yard.

  ‘Auntie Alice,’ he cried. He pointed upwards; his eyes wide.

  Quickly fastening my shirt, I followed him out to the yard where Harriet and Miriam were standing with a group of the lads, staring intently at the sky. I looked up and my heart sank. The sky was black with bombers. I had never seen so many at one time. Since July we had become used to seeing waves of them pass overhead, but nothing like on this scale.

  Stephen began to cry. ‘There are so many, how can we stop them?’

  I put my arm around his shoulders and tried to shush his fears away, although I was thinking the same thing myself.

  Then, as though God had summoned his angels, our Hurricanes and Spitfires dropped out of the clouds and began to attack them, flying in and out of the German formations, forcing them to break up, buzzing around them like angry wasps.

  After a time, they were joined by the enemy fighters and we watched impotently, as the Luftwaffe and the scarily smaller number of RAF planes, danced across the skies in a deadly aerial ballet.

  All day long the enemy planes came in wave after seemingly endless, wave of attack, and each time they were met by our brave pilots from Biggin Hill, Gravesend and the other RAF stations around the South East. We cheered as each enemy plane either exploded in a ball of flames or spiralled down to the sea, a plume of smoke in its wake.

  At dusk, as the last of our planes left the sky and returned to their bases around the estuary. We knew we had witnessed an historic day.

  On the twentieth. Winston Churchill made a speech in the House of Commons, praising the brave young men who had fought like demons to protect us all. As he wound up his speech with the words, ‘Never in the field of human conflict, was so much owed by so many, to so few,’ the tears began to fall and we hugged each other and prayed to whichever deity might be listening, to keep our boys safe.

  As Jess read the short, but emotional few paragraphs, her mood became darker. Although she knew that eventually, the war had ended and life had slowly returned to normal, she began to understand a little more of the circumstances that had moulded Alice into the strong-willed, determined, woman she had become. She doubted that she, herself would have had the resolve and strength of character to have survived those times.

  She leaned on her elbows and stared across the table to where Alice would have sat after serving up dinner to her when she was a child, and thought about how her life had been turned upside down since her grandmother had died.

  I wish I still had the magic wand you gave me for my seventh birthday, Nana, I’d wave it in the air and things would be back to how they were a few short months ago. Life was normal then. You were my r
ock, my inspiration. I had my job; my mum had her problems but nothing like the ones she has now. Dad was out of our lives, even Grandma was just her grumpy old self, not the greedy, self-serving creature your death seems to have turned her into. I even had a relationship, of sorts. All right, it wasn’t perfect, Calvin was Calvin after all, but at least he was there at the end of a long day. At least he pretended to listen before turning the conversation around to himself. I know what he did, I know what he was, but… I miss him, Nana. I’d give anything to go back to how things were. I don’t want this; I can’t handle the responsibility. I’m not as strong as you. I thought I could read people but the idea of money changes them, and I don’t know who they are anymore.

  What did you think of Bradley, Nana? Did you see through him? I bet you did. Men, eh? We have always been attracted to the wrong type. Why is that? We’re both intelligent, independent women, yet we fall for the worst sorts of men. Are we really that easily fooled? Do we secretly want to be made to suffer, or is it just the element of danger we can smell in these people?

  I’m dreading the next few days, Nana… please, if you have any influence at all, if you know Mum’s Guardian Angel, put in a word for her. None of this is her fault. I know you had your issues with her, but they were pretty much all caused by Dad. She could have had a much better life without his controlling influence, but she loved him so much. I hope she can get over this. It could quite easily destroy her.

  Did you foresee any of this, Nana? I can’t believe you would have left me alone to face it all on my own. I feel so alone. Even your presence seems to have vanished. I can’t feel you around me anymore. Please come back and help me find a way through. I don’t think I can go on like this.

  The room was dark by the time Jess got up from the table. Reaching for her crutch, she limped into the front room where she switched on the light and slumped down on the sofa. A few seconds later her phone rang. Without looking at the caller’s name, she hit the answer button and held the device to her ear.

  ‘Hello, Jess… It’s Bradley. Do you think we could meet?’

  The End

  About The Author

  T. A. Belshaw

  T. A. Belshaw

  Is the author of 6 adult novels and 15 books for children written under the name of Trevor Forest. He lives in Derbyshire with his feisty rescue cat, Mia.

  Praise For Author

  Unspoken. Review Snippets

  ‘The characters in the book have been created so well, they are strong, believable and memorable people. I particularly loved Alice for her strength and her best friend Amy. She is a woman everyone needs for a friend.’ Beyond the Books.

  'Unspoken’ is superbly written. I was blown away by the story, the characters and the author’s writing style. The author certainly knows how to grab your attention and draw you into the story without you realising it.’ The Ginger Book Geek ‘

  If family saga's and dual time novels are your thing, you'd be hard pushed to find a more enjoyable one than Unspoken. It's got drama, love, intrigue, revenge and secrets - so basically everything you need for a captivating read and that's exactly what I thought it was. I've also heard on the grapevine that there will be a sequel. I really hope that this is the case, but failing that, another book from this talented author would make me very happy!’ Neats

  Books By This Author

  Tracy's Hot Mail

  Tracy's the new girl in the office. A sassy nineteen year old with an eye for cloned fashion and an ear for the latest gossip, she reveals all in a series of emails written to her friend, Emma. Tracy doesn't spare anyone's blushes as she dishes the dirt on friends, family, and foes. If something is worth hearing, it is worth telling...

  Everyone gets the Tracy Treatment, her benefit-fiddling father, her porn obsessed boyfriend, even her pocket billiards champion boss. Not forgetting the office's serial bum pincher and his latest conquest, the office tart. Behind Tracy's wide eyed innocence and reassuring smile lies a muck spreader of the highest calibre. No secret is safe.

  Tracy's Celebrity Hot Mail

  Tracy’s back!

  After being replaced by a dumb terminal at the office, Tracy teams up with über-iffy agent, Shayne Slider for an assault on the bottom end of the celebrity market. Tracy’s quest to become a C-list celebrity takes her from in-store promotions at her local supermarket, to an up-market but amoral celebrity event on the outskirts of Harrogate.

  Despite her hectic lifestyle, Tracy still finds time to inbox her best friend, Emma with all the latest news about her friends, family and new-found showbiz acquaintances.

  Fruitier than a ten-gallon fruit shoot. No one dishes the dirt quite like Tracy.

  Out Of Control

  It began with a trivial moment of carelessness, but the shockwaves that reverberate from this seemingly insignificant incident, spread far and wide.

  Ed and his heavily pregnant wife Mary are on an errand for Ed’s ailing father before the pair depart for warmer climes. But the winter of 1962 comes early and one innocuous event and a hastily taken decision will have devastating consequences for the family of young Rose Gorton. Mary’s already fragile mental state is put under further stress while Ed tries to make sense of events that are spiralling massively, Out of Control.

  Unspoken

  Unspoken

  A heart-warming, dramatic family saga. Unspoken is a tale of secrets, love, betrayal and revenge.

  Unspoken means something that cannot be uttered aloud. Unspoken is the dark secret a woman must keep, for life.

  Alice is fast approaching her one hundredth birthday and she is dying. Her strange, graphic dreams of ghostly figures trying to pull her into a tunnel of blinding light are becoming more and more vivid and terrifying. Alice knows she only has a short time left and is desperate to unburden herself of a dark secret, one she has lived with for eighty years.

  Jessica, a journalist, is her great granddaughter and a mirror image of a young Alice. They share dreadful luck in the types of men that come into their lives.

  Alice decides to share her terrible secret with Jessica and sends her to the attic to retrieve a set of handwritten notebooks detailing her young life during the late 1930s. Following the death of her invalid mother and her father’s decline into depression and alcoholism, she is forced, at 18 to take control of the farm. On her birthday, she meets Frank, a man with a drink problem and a violent temper.

  When Frank’s abusive behaviour steps up a level. Alice seeks solace in the arms of her smooth, ‘gangster lawyer’ Godfrey, and when Frank discovers the couple together, he vows to get his revenge.

  Unspoken. A tale that spans two eras and binds two women, born eighty years apart.

  Murder at the Mill

  Murder at the Mill. A Gripping New Cosy Crime Series with a light hearted touch.

  January 1939 and the residents of the snow-covered streets of a small Kentish town awake to horrific news.

  When young Amy Rowlings meets Detective Sergeant Bodkin at the scene of a burglary on the way to work at The Mill one snowy January morning, she is blissfully unaware of how much her life is about to change.

  She is drawn into the murky world of murder when the body of Edward Handsley is found lying on the floor of the clothing factory.

  Edward, the son of factory owner George is a libertine, philanderer, and a young man with a lot of enemies, many of them female.

  Twenty-one-year-old Amy is a vivacious, quick-witted collector of imported American music, a movie buff and an avid reader of crime fiction. A girl who can spot whodunnit long before the film star detective gets an inkling.

  Bodkin is new to the area and accepts Amy’s offer to provide local knowledge but she soon becomes an invaluable source of information. When Adam Smethwick is arrested for the murder, Amy, a family friend, is convinced of his innocence and sets out to prove that the detective has arrested the wrong man.

  Amy befriends Justine, the young French fiancé of the elderly George, and soon discovers
that it was not all sweetness and light in the Handsley family home. Meanwhile, back at the factory, Amy is sure that the foreman, Mr Pilling, has something to hide.

  As the investigation proceeds, Amy finds that her burgeoning relationship with Bodkin is pushed to the limits as the detective becomes even more convinced that he has arrested the right man and while Bodkin relies heavily on the facts as they are presented, Amy has a more nuanced approach to solving the crime, born out of her beloved Agatha Christie books and the crimes she has witnessed in the movies.