Afterwards they went into the sitting-room and opened their presents beneath the tree. Lianne was thrilled to have a wooden jewellery box, complete with a beautiful cameo brooch; Dave got the electric typewriter he wanted; Mrs Martin was thrilled when she saw the dressing gown that had been in Mason’s front window for a week; and her husband was as pleased as always with two new sweaters and a pair of socks. ‘You forgot the Y fronts,’ he joked. There was a burst of laughter when Mrs Martin presented him with a pack of five.
Baby got his name. ‘We thought about calling him after all the men in his life… his daddy and his two grandaddies,’ Lianne explained. ‘In the end we thought David Neville Jack Martin was too much of a mouthful, so we’ve decided to give him just one name. David, after his daddy.’
Mr Martin was thrilled. ‘It’s a good name,’ he said, ‘or I wouldn’t have given it to my own son.’ They drank a toast to the new male of the line, and afterwards set about the washing up.
‘I’m glad your father agreed to come for dinner this evening,’ Mrs Martin said. ‘It’ll be a real family gathering.’
‘Thank you for asking him,’ Lianne murmured, and gave her a grateful hug. ‘He’s been such a hermit since Mum went. I didn’t think he’d accept, but he’s really looking forward to it.’
‘That’s good.’ Mrs Martin rolled up her sleeves and got out the cooking utensils. ‘Better get on,’ she said. ‘There’s a lot to do.’
‘And you won’t be short of help,’ Lianne answered, taking out the dish for the trifle. ‘Now then, is it red jelly, or orange?’ She felt elated at the idea of her father sitting down to a Christmas dinner with them. ‘Do you realise, there’ll be three generations round this table tonight?’
Dave put his arm round her. ‘You’re right,’ he said, lovingly squeezing her. ‘Something to remember.’
As they looked forward to the evening, no one there could have seen the horror that was to come.
At quarter to eight, Jack arrived. Lianne had been watching for him out of the sitting-room window. The minute she saw his van pull into the kerb, she flew to the front door. ‘I was afraid you might change your mind,’ she said running down the path to greet him.
He was more like his old self than she had seen him in a long time. His smile was warm, his manner easy, and he was walking with only the slightest limp. ‘I’ve been looking forward to tonight,’ he said. ‘Why would I want to change my mind?’ He draped an arm round her shoulder while they returned to the house.
Lianne shivered. ‘Brr! Let’s get in out of the cold.’
She didn’t see him glance furtively back at the van. Nor did she suspect that they were being watched. He hadn’t brought presents, either for her or his new grandson. In her excitement she didn’t realise. It wouldn’t have mattered to her anyway.
Just as they were about to sit down to dinner, Jack made a speech that was to change their lives. ‘For the both of you,’ he said, handing Dave an envelope, addressed to him and Lianne. He made no mention of the baby. ‘I haven’t been much of a father,’ he apologised, looking at Lianne, ‘but I hope this will make up for it.’
Everyone waited while Dave opened the envelope. ‘I don’t understand!’ Taking out a small bunch of shiny new keys, he held them up for Lianne to see.
‘These are the keys to your new home,’ Jack explained, with a broad smile. The best is yet to come he thought, crossing his fingers, and hoping they would not refuse.
Intrigued, Lianne turned the keys over to read the attached label. ‘Number Four, Greenlands, Leighton Road.’ Her face coloured with surprise. ‘That’s the new development!’
There was a moment of utter disbelief, then a burst of excitement, while everyone talked at once. Jack said he had been wondering what to buy his daughter and her family for Christmas. ‘When they told me you were thinking of moving to the coast, I knew what I had to do,’ he told Mr Martin.
Dave’s parents were thrilled, and relieved. ‘Though we would have helped them to rent a place,’ they explained, ‘it will put our minds at rest to know they have a home of their own.’
Dave was delighted, too, though a little embarrassed. ‘We’ll pay you back,’ he declared. ‘As soon as I’m earning, we’ll pay back every penny.’ He was not deterred, even when Jack told him it was a gift, not a loan.
Lianne could hardly believe it. She had only one reservation. ‘Are you sure you can afford it?’
‘I wouldn’t have done it if I couldn’t afford it,’ he said. ‘I told you… I got top price for the bakery. What would I do with all that money?’
Laughing, Lianne threw her arms round his neck. ‘It’s a wonderful surprise,’ she laughed. ‘When can we go and see it?’
‘Soon.’ He glanced at Mrs Martin. He might need her before the night was over. ‘We mustn’t let this wonderful dinner spoil,’ he said cunningly.
As the meat was served he decided it was time for him to make his next move. ‘I have another surprise,’ he told them, smiling particularly at Mrs Martin. Before they could respond, he stood up and pushed away his chair. ‘If you’ll excuse me, it’ll only take a minute.’ Again before anyone could say anything, he hurried out of the room, leaving them bewildered but intrigued.
It seemed no time at all before he returned.
Ginny was with him.
Extraordinarily calm, she let her dark gaze rest on each of them in turn. ‘Hello, everyone,’ she murmured. ‘I told Father he shouldn’t bring me along, but he insisted you wouldn’t mind.’
Lianne ran to her. ‘’Course we don’t mind,’ she chided. ‘Oh, Ginny, are you home for good?’
‘I have to report back twice a week, but yes, I’m home for good.’
For a moment they quietly held each other. Ginny thinking how Lianne had got herself a nice little nest here. She deliberately averted her eyes from Dave. She would have him, she decided, vehemently recalling how he had refused her in the past. That was something she could not easily accept. At some time in the future, when his guard was down, she would have her way with him. Right now, there were other, more urgent matters on her mind, such as finding her mother, and getting rid of her parents and her hands on a certain amount of money that should be hers. Oh yes! She would destroy this little family, with their little ideas. The prospect made her smile inside.
They were halfway through their meal when Jack appealed to Mr Martin. ‘You said you meant to help Lianne and Dave with renting a property,’ he remarked casually. ‘I’ve already contacted several estate agents about rented properties, and they tell me they’re few and far between. In fact, they’ve got nothing at all on their books just now.’ He took a deliberate bite of the succulent apple pie. He wasn’t a lover of pastry but he made a good show of enjoying it. ‘Best I’ve ever tasted,’ he told Mrs Martin.
‘So? You’ve decided to take a rented property after all?’ her husband asked with some surprise. ‘Lianne said you had ideas about travelling?’
‘Oh, it isn’t for me!’ he answered, feigning astonishment. ‘It’s for Ginny. One of the release conditions is that she has a stable environment.’ He hung his head. ‘Of course I did wrong in selling the bakery. If I hadn’t done that, there would be no problem.’ He smiled at Dave and Lianne. ‘But then I wouldn’t have been able to buy you that beautiful house, would I?’
Mrs Martin had an idea. ‘Why doesn’t Ginny move in with Dave and Lianne? It’s a big house, and I’m sure it wouldn’t be long before you found something to suit Ginny better.’
The suggestion might have provoked an interesting reaction, but the knock on the door stalled any discussion. ‘I’ll go.’ Embarrassed by the turn of events, Mr Martin made his getaway.
At first when he opened the door he didn’t recognise the woman standing there. ‘Is Jack here?’ she asked. And only then did he realise. ‘Why! It’s Mrs Lucas, isn’t it?’ It was a shock. A bit like seeing a ghost from the past. ‘Come inside,’ he invited. ‘It’s bitter cold out there.’
; She made no move. ‘Could you please tell him there’s someone to see him?’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Don’t say who it is, will you?’
Instinct urged him to look up and down the street. There was no one about, just Jack’s van, and another, darker car parked a short distance away. ‘I’ll tell him,’ he agreed. ‘Won’t you at least come into the hallway, in the warm?’ She shook her head and he hurried away, politely leaving the door ajar.
She waited patiently. In a moment Jack appeared, confused and curious. He stood at the door and stared down on her. ‘You want to see me?’ he queried. Slowly his eyes grew accustomed to the half-light. His face opened in astonishment. ‘Liz!’ He almost fell down the steps, his disbelieving eyes crinkling to a smile. ‘My God, it’s really you!’
‘I had to come back,’ she said. ‘I had to be sure.’ Her voice was flat and accusing, halting him in his tracks.
‘Sure?’ He was puzzled. ‘Sure about what?’
‘Ginny.’ Her eyes raked his face. ‘You. And I had to be sure, about these!’ She thrust a sheaf of cuttings at him. ‘I came back to the bakery. When you weren’t there, I had an idea where I might find you. You see, Jack, I haven’t been too far away. All this time I’ve been near enough to watch your every move. I know it all now. They told me. But I didn’t believe them. When you weren’t at the bakery, I searched around… looking for anything that would help me to know the truth. I found these… hideous things, hidden in one of the old ovens. Who put them there, Jack? Was it her? Please, Jack… tell me it was her.’
He didn’t have to look at the cuttings. He knew them by heart. ‘Yes. She must have put them there,’ he said, not surprised. ‘I want you to come home,’ he pleaded. ‘The bakery’s sold, but we can find a new place, you and me… and Ginny.’
She was devastated. ‘I was wrong to come back,’ she said bitterly. ‘You’ll never put me before her.’ She stared at him with such pain that he could almost feel it. ‘You’re never going to tell me the truth either, are you, Jack?’
When he didn’t answer, she flung the cuttings to the ground, where they lay very still, grotesque against the pure white snow. ‘Goodbye, Jack,’ she muttered. ‘This time I won’t be back.’
As she went quickly down the path he ran after her. ‘Don’t leave me again,’ he pleaded. ‘I need you. Liz for God’s sake help me!’
As he pursued her down the street, neither of them saw the shadowy figure slip away. It smiled menacingly before sliding into the van. It took the stolen keys from its pocket, and thrust them into the ignition. For a moment the silence was awesome. Long slim fingers with crimson tips. One quick twist and the engine started. The van shot forward at screaming speed.
In that split second, Jack turned. And he knew. ‘No! Ginny!’ His scream exploded into the night. There was no time for thought. No time to save himself. With the strength of a bull, he launched himself at Liz. Taken by surprise she thought he was attacking her, and fought like a tiger. She was no match for him. He threw her aside as if she was a rag doll in that moment the van careered into him. He jerked forward, high in the air, before falling down across the windscreen. Bloodied and hurting, he stared at her through the windscreen. She was laughing at him. Hating him. Hating him!
Losing his grip, he slithered to the ground, the soft tissue of his face colliding with the hard surface. His cheekbone split open. He heard the wheels screeching as she went after Liz. ‘Run, Liz!’ he was shouting. The noise was only in his head. He couldn’t shout. His life was ebbing away.
Suddenly everyone was out on the street. Lianne, on her knees beside her father. ‘Don’t die.’ The words fell away as she cried, ‘Please Daddy… don’t… please…’ From the corner of her eye she could see her mother, running, stumbling now, almost beneath the wheels of the van. Unable to look, she clung to her father, holding him to her, his blood running down her arms, spoiling her new white blouse. In her confused mind she thought of Ginny. Where was she? Their father was dying. Where was she?
Ginny spoiled everything.
Dave threw himself at the van again and again, until his clothes were torn to shreds and his skin erupting. There was someone else too. A man. Trying to get to Liz. Trying to save her. Suddenly there was a thud and Liz went down. The van recoiled on impact. This was his chance. Wrenching open the back doors he clambered in, clinging on by his fingertips when the van surged forward. He could hear laughter. Wild insane laughter.
Without warning she turned on him.
Lunging over the seat, she made for his throat. She had a saw-edged knife. In his mind’s eye he remembered it before, on the dining-room table, lodged in the turkey’s groin.
The van veered dangerously from side to side as they struggled. He feared every minute would be his last. Losing his balance, he fell backwards, spreadeagled against the driver’s seat. She raised the knife to his throat. The blade glinted in the light from the street lamp. The van jerked and crashed, splintering the wall, sending the bricks crashing through the windscreen. She fell sideways and lay there, very still, very beautiful, staring up at him, the smile fixed on her face. The knife embedded deep in her heart.
‘It could have been me!’ Horror shot through him. And still she smiled at him. Such beauty. Such evil. Gone now. Sleeping.
Heartbroken and deeply shocked, Lianne was led away by her husband. In the distance the ambulance siren could be heard. The police had arrived within minutes of Mr Martin’s call.
Twisted and broken, Jack lay in Liz’s arms. He had only minutes, he knew that. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart,’ he murmured.
‘There you go again,’ she said through her tears, through her pain. ‘Always saying you’re sorry.’
‘Take care of her.’
Thinking he meant Lianne, she answered, ‘I promise.’
The smile slid from her face at his next words. ‘I know you’ve always been afraid of her. Please don’t punish her, Liz. It isn’t her fault. It’s mine.’ His eyes closed and he was quiet.
Leaning closer she persisted, ‘Why, Jack? Why is it your fault?’ How could she let it end this way? How could she go on, not knowing? She had to be sure. ‘What they told me – was it true?’
His handsome, easy smile broke her heart. ‘All true,’ he whispered.
‘What, about Ginny?’ Her voice fell to a whisper. ‘Did she really kill those people?’ In her heart she knew the answer.
He stared for a while, his senses going fast now. ‘Ginny… grandmother. Insane.’ His voice shook with emotion.
‘Did Ginny kill Old Tom?’
A nod.
‘The young man, Luke Morrison?’ She hesitated. ‘Your own mother?’
A nod.
‘May God forgive her,’ she whispered.
Suddenly afraid, he gripped her hand, his dark eyes paling. He stared at her for a long minute, a solitary tear running down his face. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’ He smiled that slow easy smile she’d always loved. ‘There you go again…’ he whispered. ‘Saying sorry.’ Soft laughter, much like Ginny’s. His voice faltered and he was gone.
In pain from the injuries she’d suffered, Liz closed her eyes, trying to shut out the things he had told her.
Eddie Laing had returned some days ago. He came to her then, his slow American drawl soothing her frayed senses. ‘I said you shouldn’t come back.’ Gently, he pulled her to him. ‘You were safe in their house, with them. With me.’ There was an intimacy in his manner. A warmth she desperately needed. ‘Cyrus Louis warned you. He knew all along.’ He grimaced with disgust. ‘They all knew.’
Empty of emotion, she leaned on him. Together they watched them take Jack and his daughter away. Her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘All those years I watched her grow. And all the time…’ Her mind reeled in shock. ‘Oh Ginny!’
As the ambulance pulled away, taking father and daughter, Eddie said, ‘The old woman went to the chair, God rest her soul, but at least his daughter won’t suffer.’
He walked her awa
y. ‘It’s best you don’t think too long on all of this,’ he suggested kindly, ‘for your own peace of mind.’
The events made sensational headlines around the globe: ‘TWENTY YEARS ON, MASS MURDER AGAIN.’
The story took many forms, some exaggerated, others indulging in graphic horror. But the story was the same underneath. It had been more than twenty years since Virginia Lucas’ great-grandmother had killed some fourteen people.
The horror was over. The wealthy Louis family went into hiding, hoping the world might forget, praying too that they would find a measure of peace. Now history had repeated itself. The articles went on to describe how Jack had died. It told of the daughters, Lianne, and Virginia… ‘the mad one’… ‘the killer’.
The funeral of father and daughter took place in a small market town situated in the heart of rural England. Reporters flocked from all over the world. Ordinary people too. Kind sorry people who grieved for the family. And the ghouls who fed like parasites on the weaknesses of others.
Seven years later, the family gathered again. This time there were no reporters. No strangers. Other, more sensational stories had superseded the gruesome tale of Virginia Lucas. The church this time was situated in a pretty hamlet on the Yorkshire Moors. The occasion was a christening.
The vicar was a kindly man who knew nothing of the family’s background. All he knew was that Dr Martin’s daughter was being christened. When all the preliminaries were done, he held the child to the font. As the holy water tumbled down her forehead, the words rang out: ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I anoint this child… Elizabeth Lianne Martin.’
When the baptism was over, the family returned to the big old cottage where they had stayed for the past week. This was Dave and Lianne’s home. It was a delightful stone-built place, with rambling roses round the door, and July clematis growing up the walls. The cottage came with the position of local doctor, taken up by Dave just a year ago. There were five bedrooms in all: enough to provide one for Cyrus and Maureen, who had recently wed; another for Mr and Mrs Martin; one for Liz; and the small one at the front for Eddie Laing.
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