THE COMPLETE TRILOGY, COMPENDIUM OF THE HEART: An epic love story

by RJ Hunter

  David followed close behind, but William, called him back, and told him to bolt the front door, relieved that Frank was finally out of the house.

  Sally retrieved William's shirt, and hastily put it on, before bursting into tears. William rushed to her side, his lip swollen and bleeding.

  "Sally, what a heroine you are. I really thought I was going to die!"

  "I certainly don't feel like a heroine, I've never been so terrified in all my life."

  William, placed a protective arm around her, and called to his brother, "David, keep an eye on him from the window, while I call the police."

  Turning back to Sally, he asked her if she was alright. She looked at her shaking hands, and forced a smile, "Nothing broken, just a bit bruised, where I fell. But please, William - call the police straight away. It's not safe with Frank at large."

  They then heard someone in the hallway, and glanced at each other in dread. The door opened and in walked Jenny, looking somewhat bedraggled and swamped in David's dressing gown.

  "Why are you all staring at me? It's the middle of the night, why aren't you all in bed!"

  Pauline knew they would come to her room. She had been drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours now, her mind constantly flashing back to the events in the hall.

  She heard loud male voices, then footsteps - footsteps that grew louder as they got closer to her door.

  When the knock came, it was a hard, masculine sound, not the gentle tap, tap that Jenny or Maureen would use. She was still dressed in the clothes she had worn to the dance, but now they were creased and soiled with spilt alcohol, and splashes of Frank's blood. When she finally undid the lock and opened the door, the bright light from the corridor dazzled her eyes and made her squint.

  The policeman asked her name, to which she replied in a non-descript child-like, manner. She noticed Karen was standing directly behind him, along with Mr. Meredith and Jane.

  "Can we come in, Pauline, we have a few questions to ask you?"

  Pauline switched on the light, and stepped back a few paces to allow them access.

  The policeman was shocked to see the state of Pauline's room. Clothes had been ripped to shreds, pictures had been torn from the walls and the furniture had been turned over.

  "I've seen Mr. Meredith already, I've got nothing further to say," said Pauline nervously.

  Hesitantly, Price beckoned Karen into the room, along with Jane, while Meredith stood in the doorway.

  "Now, young lady, I'm Constable Price, and this is, Karen, and Mrs. Parker, but I expect you all know each other."

  Pauline shook her head, not acknowledging her fellow student.

  "Okay then, let's carry on. Please listen to what I have to say, Pauline. Young Karen has made a very serious accusation regarding a male student here, who goes by the name of Frank Gant. Do you know him?"

  Pauline nodded affirmatively, realising that this wasn't about her attacking Frank.

  "Karen has made a statement to the effect that Gant drugged her, got her drunk, then raped her." Karen began getting anxious, prompting Jane to take the student's hand and grip it reassuringly.

  "Okay, my girl, now listen here. Karen also said, he did the same to you. Is that correct Pauline?"

  "No, of course it isn't. Stupid girl, she just wants the attention. Why would he do that? He's my boyfriend - I'm the one he loves, not her."

  Constable Price exhaled sharply.

  "According to my information, Pauline, you accused Gant of exactly the same thing, over at the hall, and in front of several hundred people. What's more, you then put a glass into his face. Is that true?"

  "No, it's not, well not the first bit. He didn't rape me, I was drunk. I wont press charges."

  "I think you owe it to young Karen here, to get him convicted. By all accounts, he's a very dangerous man and should be locked up. Besides, he could have attacked more women."

  "Has Frank accused me of cutting him with the glass?"

  "No, he hasn't, Pauline, but we haven't found him yet. Do you know where he is?"

  "No, I don't. If there's nothing more to say, then please leave me alone." Scowled Pauline, her voice aggravated.

  As they turned to leave, another policeman arrived outside the room, asking for his colleague. There was a short discussion out in the corridor, and Price walked back into Pauline's room.

  "I'm afraid things are a bit more serious now, Pauline. This so-called boyfriend of yours has apparently broken into a house and attacked the occupants with a knife." Price then wrote a telephone number down on a slip of paper and handed it to Pauline. "If you change your mind, or know anything else, please contact us. We will protect you - this man has to be found."

  Once they had gone, Pauline pulled on her coat and boots and went out into the snowy night to look for Frank. She decided to try his room at the Old Building first. It was obvious the police would have checked there earlier, but now they were heading to Orchard Lane, where he was last sighted.

  It was easy to gain access to Frank's hall of residence since security wasn't so much of an issue as with the female residences, and more often than not, the front door would be left unlocked. She checked the list of residents in the lobby and made her to his room. After knocking several times and getting no reply, she trudged back out into the snow. She began to head for the main gate, but she couldn't quite see where the path ended and the grass verge began, as the snow was so thick in places. As she reached the end of the building, she must have strayed off the path and had arrived at another, smaller door. There was a light on in the lobby, and Pauline wondered if Frank ever used this instead of the main entrance. Walking over towards the door, she noticed long marks, and irregular foot prints in the snow, as if someone had fallen over and had then struggled to get up and walk. It was then, that she saw drops of blood in the snow and instinctively knew Frank was nearby. She stood still, and called out his name, but the strong breeze muffled the sound of her voice. She began following the tracks, which seemed to lead to a small coppice close by. Then, as she got nearer, she saw him. He was lying face down, literally twenty feet from the back door of the hall of residence. She ran towards him, calling his name, but there was no movement or response. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she tried to turn him. He was frozen through and still wearing his dinner suit. He was heavy and a dead weight, but with all her strength, she managed to half turn him and pull his face from the snow. She was horrified to see the awful wound on his cheek that she had inflicted. It was no longer bleeding, probably due to the cold conditions, but it looked ugly, and so permanent. In fact, Frank's facial wound probably saved him from a more severe beating from Carol's father and brothers, who had limited their attack to mostly just punching him about the body and kicking him once he was down. There was another wound on the top of his head, where David had hit him with the poker. The blood had trickled down his neck, to stain the white collar of his expensive shirt, just like the blood from the cut, had stained the front.

  Again, she called his name, again there was no response. Pauline thought he was dead, and she had played a major part in killing him.

  "I'm so sorry, Frank. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you." She sobbed, "I was just so jealous when I saw you with Sally. It was too painful to bear. Please don't leave me."

  The tears streamed down Pauline's face, as she buried her head in her hands. After a few moments, she removed her coat and placed it over Frank. She then cuddled up next to him and held him tight, crying into his cold body. Now they were one, and she would follow him wherever, even to the grave.

  She didn't know how long she and Frank stayed there, out in the snow, minutes or hours, but it was the voices that roused her from a semi-conscious state. She felt strong arms lifting her up and putting her onto a stretcher. She was confused and not sure if she had died or not. Opening her eyes, she saw ambulance men lifting Frank. He was still lifeless, and being such a large man, the two police officers were called upon to help get him
into the ambulance.

  "I didn't mean to kill him!" Cried Pauline, sitting up and throwing the blankets off.

  "He's not dead, love," replied one of the men, "He should be dead, by the look of him, but I'd say you saved him. The heat from your body just about kept him alive."

  Pauline let out a long sigh of relief, and got off the stretcher. She walked over to where Frank was lying and kissed his battered face. She then retrieved her coat, and started to walk away. He was alive, and now she would make it up to him, for in Pauline's eyes, Frank was her man, and she would lay down her life for him.

  One of the ambulance men went to bring her back, but Constable Price stopped him.

  "Let her be. She needs more help than we can ever give her."

  9. THE REUNION

  It was Wednesday, 19th December, when Pamela drove into Falcondale. She stopped briefly near the clock tower to consult her atlas, before driving the short distance into the car park at the rear of the High Street.

  It was busy in town, not only with the regular shoppers, but with those desperate to stock up with supplies due to the recent spell of unpredictable weather. The snow storms had brought the harsh reality of winter to many of Falcondale's sheep farmers trying to eke out what living they could. The impending winter of 1963 would go down in British history as one of the worst in living memory.

  After finding a parking place, Pamela was at first reluctant to leave the warmth of her Austin Cambridge. She smoked a cigarette, before finally opening the door and venturing out towards an inviting looking cafe that she had noticed on the way in.

  The Market Cafe seemed more like an English tea shop, with its quaint charm and chintz curtains, and Pamela, weary from such a long drive was more than ready for a nice hot cup of tea, and perhaps a morsel of cake. It was quite full inside, but she managed to find herself a seat over by the window, and watched the busy shoppers go about their business as she waited to be served.

  Pamela had liked the town immediately, but she was uncertain about how welcome she might be in view of what had happened last week, with Lizzie and Janice.

  She sipped her tea, and slowly went over the events in her mind. Edward had contacted her with the news of Margaret's death, and things now couldn't be left the way they were. Lizzie had to be told the truth. She had already been informed about Margaret, but Edward desperately wanted his family around him at this sad time. He was quite concerned however, about Lizzie driving back alone, he wasn't sure how everything may have affected her. He had told Lizzie, that he would come and collect her personally, but it had been Pamela's idea that she went in place of him.

  "Please, Edward, it would give me the perfect opportunity to speak to Lizzie, and in a neutral environment. We'll both come back safely, I promise."

  Pamela's thoughts were distracted by the chattering of two elderly women seated at the table next to hers. She tried to ignore the women and concentrate on what she would say to Lizzie, but couldn't quite help listening in on some of the conversation.

  "It's beautiful, Nancy, and it looks like a real pearl," said Doreen, closely examining the gold necklace. "So you found it in Orchard Lane, just lying there in the snow?"

  "Yes, that's right, I was there to do some cleaning for the Peddlescoombe's."

  "Of course, I remember you telling me. How are William and David, they're such lovely boys?"

  "They're not as innocent as they make out, Doreen. They've had girls at the house. I'm sure William has one sleeping in his room with him!"

  "That's disgusting, Nancy. It wouldn't have happened in our day."

  "That's very true, although I do recall you having a bit of a reputation when your Gilbert was away fighting at the front."

  "Don't bring all that up again, Nancy. Now tell me more about the necklace." Replied Doreen, looking a little embarrassed.

  "There's not much more to say really. I asked the boys about it, and none of them knew who's it was. I thought it may belong to one of their girlfriends, but apparently not."

  "What a windfall and just before Christmas too. Are you going to keep it?"

  "I don't know. Someone must be missing it by now, so I asked Constable Price what I should do. He wasn't very concerned about it, and since nobody had reported losing a necklace, he said to hang on to it."

  Doreen wasn't surprised. "He's not one for paper work, that Constable Price. Well, I hope you get to keep it, Nancy.

  "Thank-you Doreen, but I've always believed that honesty is the best policy, so I've put a small ad in the lost and found column of the Gazette." Replied Nancy, before looking around and whispering; "I also took it to the Jeweller's to get it valued, and you'll never guess what?"

  "Tell me," replied, Doreen, moving her head a little closer.

  "It's a Cartier necklace, and is worth a good thousand pounds!"

  "Oh my word! A Cartier necklace in Falcondale, whatever next?" Exclaimed Doreen, putting her hand up to her mouth.

  Nancy looked down to admire the piece once more, "But if no-one claims it, I wont keep it for myself - I'll give it to Carol. I think something like this needs to be worn by a much younger woman."

  "You must be so proud, Nancy, having a grand-daughter like her?"

  "Yes, the poor lass works so hard, but you never hear her complain, and she deserves a bit of luck - especially after losing her job because of that nasty, Frank Gant chap."

  Pamela couldn't help smiling at the old ladies, as she finished her tea and placed the cup down on the delicate china saucer. It didn't take long before she was chatting away to them as if they were long-lost friends. Obviously the women were keen to know what Pamela's business was in town, as it was rare to see strangers passing through, especially dressed as elegantly as Pamela. After several minutes had passed she asked the waitress where the telephone was, and lit up a cigarette, before taking out her purse and venturing over to make her call. Pamela scolded herself for getting so worked up about things and decided to simply come out with the truth. Yes, that was it, she decided, just be honest. After all, she had nothing to hide or be ashamed of, and its what Lizzie would expect.

  Pamela listened to the continuous ringing tone for a couple of minutes, before hanging up. She then inhaled from her cigarette, and tried the number once more.

  Sally was sitting quietly in Lizzie's room, watching her friend iron clothes on a sheet laid out on the carpet. Lizzie was a meticulous ironer and would handle her expensive clothes as if they might suddenly break and shatter. She carefully folded her blouses and skirts into neat squares, before placing them into a large suitcase on the bed.

  "So how was the dreaded seminar this morning?" Asked Lizzie, breaking the silence.

  "Not half as bad as I expected. My tutor had a stinking cold and just wanted to get home as soon as possible. I was a bit annoyed, especially after all the work, I'd put in."

  "Don't you mean all the work William put in!" Teased Lizzie, before adding; "Never mind, I'm glad you went, I can't have you fussing around me all the time." Lizzie, then suddenly stopped packing and went and sat on the edge of the bed.

  "Lizzie, are you okay?"

  "Yes, of course, but it just doesn't seem real, Sally. I mean, I should be hysterical shouldn't I? My mother has just died and here I am, ironing away as cool as a cucumber."

  "You knew it had to come, Lizzie. Perhaps, subconsciously you had already prepared yourself for the inevitable."

  "Yes, you could be right, but I can't help feeling that it's not all over yet. It just hasn't sunk in, perhaps the mind isn't programmed to acknowledge shocks like this immediately. It could be, that its all just building up to hit me later, when I least expect it." Lizzie closed her eyes for a few moments, then added; "You will come to the funeral, wont you, Sally? Mum would have wanted my best friend there."

  "Of course I will Lizzie, and we'll phone each other all over Christmas. Now come on, keep yourself busy, your father will be here soon.

  Lizzie nodded and went over to the wardrobe, where she
began removing her dresses.

  "I'm sorry, Sally, for everything. For ruining your birthday, for making you witness those awful rows. Then, to cap it all, you discover your boyfriend is a rapist and a psychopath who tries to murder you - and here I am, feeling sorry for myself!"

  "Lizzie, please, I'm sure you would have acted just the same if I had troubles at home. As for Frank, I hope I never see him again. I'm sure he'll go to prison, but I wont be looking forward to going to court." Sally then paused, as she heard the telephone ringing.

  She was quite glad to leave Lizzie's room for a few moments. She did want to help her friend through her grief, but hated it when Lizzie went through one of her feeling guilty phases, and started apologising profusely. Besides, what happened at William's house, with Frank, had affected her greatly, and like Lizzie, she was in a void, as she struggled to process such disturbing information. She felt tearful, and was glad the caller had rung off when they did. Since that night, Sally had been terrified of being on her own, and had practically abandoned her room, choosing to stay with William and David instead. She would have told her friend how she had lost her virginity to William, and how wonderful it was to actually do it at long last. But what happened after with Frank had somehow taken the gloss off, what should have been such a memorable occasion. Besides, in view of Lizzie's mother passing away, it just didn't seem appropriate to even think of discussing such things at the moment.

  Sally turned and started to head back to Lizzie's room, when she heard the telephone ring again. Picking up the receiver, she hoped it may be William, who she had arranged to meet later that day. However, the female caller asked for Lizzie Marchmont. She had a soft, well-spoken voice, and one that Sally had certainly heard before.