by Pat Herbert
The thumping was growing louder and was now accompanied by a thick, guttural, drunken voice. “Let me in! It’s cold out here!”
Elvira opened the door just as he was about to thump on it again, narrowly missing his fist in her face.
“About time!” he slurred, falling into the passage, burping as he did so. “Oops! Pardon me,” he giggled. “Where’s the sunshine of my life?”
Vesna came out of the parlour as he said this. “You’re drunk!” she observed unnecessarily. “Have you no shame?”
“None at all, my pretty one,” he grinned, insinuating his long arm around her cringing shoulders. “Now, what about a goodnight kiss, then?”
Vesna pushed him away in disgust. “No! You stink of beer. Go to bed. We want you out of here tomorrow morning.” She said this last as firmly as she could.
Rodney Purbright seemed to sober up suddenly. “I thought I’d made my position clear,” he said. “Here I am and here I stay. We shall be married next week. Do you understand me?”
Elvira came and stood by her sister’s side. “Where’s Harry? Did you get him drunk? I presume you talked him round, got rid of him?”
Rodney Purbright started to giggle again. “Got rid of him? You could say that. He was very drunk – much drunker than me. He fell in the canal.”
Vesna and Elvira caught their breath as he said this. “Fell in the canal?” they exclaimed in unison. “What – and you left him there?”
Rodney waved an airy hand. “Oh, it’s all right. He can swim. The most he’ll get is a chill – or possibly double pneumonia. But I think I’ve persuaded him to relinquish all rights where you’re concerned, my pretty one.”
He tried once again to put his arm around the object of his affection, but Vesna managed to duck in time. He collapsed, laughing, against the wall.
“You bastard!” she spat at him. “How could you leave him in there? He might have drowned.”
“Oh, no. He was swimming quite happily when I left him. Well, not happily, exactly. Must have been freezing in there as he broke the ice when he fell in. But I just wanted to make it clear where he stood, that’s all. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to go to my bed.”
“My bed, you mean,” muttered Elvira under her breath.
Rodney Purbright turned as he started up the stairs. “Not anymore, my dear,” he sneered. “And, by the way, if either of you get any ideas about disturbing me in the night – to have your wicked way with me,” he paused and giggled again, “I think it only fair to tell you that I shall defend myself – with this, if necessary.” So saying, he pulled out an army issue pistol from inside his snow-covered jacket.
The two sisters gasped. “You shouldn’t still have that, surely?” said Vesna, horrified.
“What I should or shouldn’t have doesn’t signify, my sweet. I’ve got it and I think you should be careful in future.” He waved it at her nonchalantly, then continued his unsteady way up the stairs.
Vesna stared at Elvira, then burst into tears. They stood together in the hall waiting for the sounds above them to cease. It dawned on them, as they stood there, that now they knew that Rodney Purbright had a gun, they were, to all intents and purposes, being held hostage in their own home.
Rodney awoke to a bright December morning in Appleby cottage. He recalled the previous day’s events with satisfaction and grinned sleepily. This is a comfortable bed, he thought; too comfortable for the likes of Elvira Rowan. Someone who looked like her deserved only an iron bedstead without any mattress.
But Vesna Rowan was a different story. Although he had met better looking women, she suited him. Her blonde earthiness appealed to his baser instincts; he could visualise her in his bed in the throes of lovemaking and enjoying every minute. No lying back and thinking of England for the likes of her. So, he had firmly decided, he would make her his wife come hell or high water. If she didn’t want to marry him, that was her problem. She would be having no say in the matter. And, now that Harry Banks was out of the way, she had no excuse.
He slowly eased himself out of the warm bed and sauntered over to the window which was wet with condensation. He gave an involuntary shiver as he opened it and breathed in the cold morning air. Yes, he thought, this feels like home at last. After all the ducking and diving he’d done over the last few years, he deserved it. Vesna and her sister would see to all his needs, one way or another. He had to admit that Elvira could certainly cook, so she could stay around. In fact, he would insist upon it. No sense in booting her out, as Vesna couldn’t even boil an egg.
He looked back on the last few years and thought about the decisions and actions he had taken, regretting nothing. If he had his time over again, he decided, he wouldn’t change a thing. He’d had an adventure or two, but now it was time for him to settle down, get a job and raise a family.
Continuing to take in gulps of air, he made a desultory attempt at some knee bending exercises until he was out of breath. Returning to the bed, he thought all that was missing was a bell by his bedside to summon the sisters to attend to his needs. What he needed right now, he decided, was a cup of tea and a large fried breakfast, but he supposed he would have to go downstairs for it. He would have to put that right and sharpish.
“I can hear him moving about up there,” said Vesna, who was putting on her coat to go to work.
“He must be thinking about breakfast,” said Elvira, frowning up at the ceiling which looked in danger of collapsing under the weight of the man’s heavy army boots. “I wish you weren’t going to work.”
“I’ve got no choice, love,” said Vesna, looking in the hall mirror to straighten her hat and touch up her lipstick. “I can’t let Bert down, can I? He’s only got one pair of hands, and Saturday’s our busiest day.”
“I know, but still, this is an emergency. Surely, he’d understand? Maybe he’d even come and sort him out for us?” Elvira looked at her sister hopefully.
“Look, Elvie, let’s get one thing straight right now. I don’t want anyone else to know our business. I don’t want Bert involved. I’ll come back as soon as I can tonight, and we’ll think of something to get rid of him. And, in the meantime, why not open the shop today for a change? I know you don’t on Saturdays as a rule, but it’d give you a chance to get away from him.”
“Yes, I’ll do that. I’ve got quite a few remedies to make up from yesterday anyway.”
Vesna, now ready to face the cold snow outside, smiled grimly at her anxious sister. “That’s good. And don’t worry. I’ll think of something to get rid of him. There’s more than one way to skin a cat…”
As Vesna closed the front door behind her, Rodney Purbright appeared on the landing above. He called down to Elvira, who remained standing in the hall.
“Any chance of a cup of tea and some breakfast?”
She straightened up at once and spun round to look up at him as he tramped down the stairs, making the flimsy banisters shake.
“Get your own,” she spat at him. “We’ve had ours. I think there’s an egg left.”
Rodney Purbright’s face took on a hard stare. He reached out and grasped Elvira by the throat, making her almost choke.
“Now then, sunshine,” he said through gritted teeth. “That’s no way to talk to your future brother-in-law, now, is it?” He shook her, making her choke even more.
All Elvira could do was gurgle. Finally, he relaxed his grip, allowing her to splutter and get her breath back. She tried not to show how scared she was, and remained facing him in the hall, barring his way to the warm kitchen.
“I’ll talk to you any way I like,” she gasped, rubbing her throat. “If you want breakfast, you’re out of luck. There isn’t any food in the house at the moment. Saturday’s our big shop day, and as we weren’t expecting any ‘guests’, we haven’t stocked up yet.”
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” he said in his most threatening manner. “I suggest that, if that’s the case, you am
end the situation by going to the shops right now.”
Elvira was so angry, she had no emotion left to feel afraid of him. “And how do you suggest I pay for all this extra food? We only just manage as it is.”
He laughed suddenly. “Is that all that’s bothering you?” He fished in his trousers pocket and pulled out a large, white, five-pound note. “Would one of these help?”
Elvira snatched it from him eagerly. “It certainly would. I haven’t seen one of these for years.”
She folded it up and put it in her apron pocket. If they were to be stuck with this man, at least he didn’t seem to be mean with his money. They could afford to eat very well on his fiver for a fortnight.
Chapter Eight
“It’ll be a piece of cake, Elvie.”
“Don’t be so ridiculous,” said Elvira Rowan. “You must be completely off your head. What you’re suggesting is – well, it’s plain wrong!”
The two women had spent a long and uncomfortable week under the same roof as Rodney Purbright and were at the end of their tether. Producing his gun whenever one or other of them tried to challenge his authority, he had them completely under his thumb, attending to his every whim, and now the last straw: he had produced the dreaded marriage licence. It was all fixed, he told them, for a week on Friday. With that, he had tramped up to bed, leaving them to digest this as best they could.
“And don’t forget my cocoa, Vessie,” he had called out as they heard him slam the bedroom door.
It was after midnight as they sat by the dying fire, holding each other’s hands. As sisters, they had been chalk and cheese all their lives. Now, in their adversity, they were united as one. They had to, somehow, get rid of Rodney Purbright before he dragged Vesna up the aisle. It would be, literally, a shotgun wedding, as Elvira pointed out, not without some irony. The poor women were in fear of their very lives.
“I know where he keeps it – the gun,” said Vesna. “In your bedside table. You said the lock was broken, so that won’t prove a difficulty.”
“But it’s murder what you’re planning. Besides he’s bound to wake up as you open the drawer. It always creaked, remember?”
“Haven’t you forgotten, sis?”
“Forgotten? Forgotten what?”
“Granny’s special receipt for insomnia?”
“Oh, that. Yes, well, we always tell people it works, but does it really? It’s only herbal. Probably a good relaxant, but I don’t think it’s as good as a pill you’d get from a doctor.”
“Maybe not. But if we crush up a few in his cocoa – that should do the trick.” She didn’t say that she’d already done that and given it to him only half an hour ago.
“God, Vessie, you’re really serious about doing this, aren’t you?”
“Do you have any better ideas? We’ll be quite safe. Once we’ve done it, we’ll just tell anyone who asks that he’s gone home, and that he and I aren’t getting married after all.”
“Well, obviously we’ll have to do that, seeing as how he’s probably told all his cronies down at the pub about his plans,” said Elvira. “It’ll look odd if he just suddenly disappears. Somebody might start asking awkward questions.”
“Oh, come off it,” said Vesna crossly. “No one’ll be that bothered about him. He’s only been here five minutes. Those so-called buddies down at the pub won’t remember him in a week. They only get drunk together, and they’re only his mates until the money runs out.”
“I wonder where he gets it all from,” said Elvira, changing tack. “I’ve often wondered. He doesn’t work, as far as we know.”
“I remember he had some rich relatives in Malmesbury he was always telling me about,” said Vesna. “When we were first engaged, he told me that they were getting on and he was expecting them to die any minute. He said that they were going to leave their money to him.”
Elvira looked grim. “So, they must have died, then,” she said. “Unless he bumped them off. I wouldn’t put it past him.”
Vesna giggled nervously. “I know he’s a bad egg and all that, but do you really think he’d have killed them?”
“Why not? Isn’t that what we’re planning to do to him?” Elvira pointed out. “And we’re nice people – not like him. I believe anyone’s capable of murder, given the circumstances.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Vesna. “Although I don’t think he’d really harm us.”
“Well, if you think that, then why don’t you just stand up to him and tell him you won’t marry him?”
Vesna glared at her. “I’ve tried. What more can I do? He won’t take no for an answer. But, whatever happens, I’m not marrying him. So, as I see it, we’ve got no alternative.”
“But if we get discovered – we’ll hang.”
Vesna smirked. “We won’t get discovered,” she said firmly. “I’ve got it all worked out. I’ll get the gun while he’s asleep and shoot him in the head through the pillow so it won’t make too much noise. Then we’ll bury him under those blasted rose bushes. They don’t produce any flowers, anyway, so maybe he’ll prove useful as fertiliser, if nothing else.”
“I’ve never seen you like this,” said Elvira, standing up and taking the clock from the mantelpiece to wind it up. “I think you should think again. Let’s go to bed and, in the morning, we’ll put our heads together and devise a plan to get rid of him that won’t involve actual murder.”
Vesna shrugged and stood up, smoothing her velvet dress carefully. “I think you’ve forgotten just one tiny detail, sis,” she said.
“And what is that, pray?”
“They can’t hang you for murdering someone who’s already dead.”
Elvira stopped halfway up the stairs and turned round. She hadn’t thought of that. Vesna gave her a friendly push and they continued their way up to bed.
Lying in bed later, Vesna’s thoughts turned to young Harry Banks. Although she was still angry with him for not helping her get rid of Rodney, she still missed him. He couldn’t have loved her, after all, she realized. He was avoiding her now whenever she saw him in the street and Elvira said that he’d got his dad to serve her whenever she went in the butcher’s.
What toads men were, she thought sadly. She had thought the world of Rodney; the sun had shone out of every orifice of him. Then she had found out his true character. She had thought the same of Harry, but now she knew he was just the same. She almost wished he’d drowned in the canal. She had heard through various sources that he’d even taken up with someone else. How fickle he was. Professing undying love to her one minute, the next walking out with another girl.
She turned fitfully in the bed. She could quite happily kill Harry Banks for his betrayal. And, as for Rodney Purbright, she was determined to dispatch him out of her life and nobody, not even her sister, was going to stop her. She sat up and threw back the covers, feeling for her slippers under the bed.
She paused outside her sister’s bedroom door, the room usurped by Rodney Purbright. She listened to the sounds of snoring through the wood panelling and smiled grimly to herself. She heard the clock in the parlour strike two o’clock; he would be well away by now.
She had shaken ten of her grandmother’s powder cures for insomnia into his cocoa and he had complained that it was very bitter. She had made the excuse that it was a new brand she was trying and said she wouldn’t give it to him again. And that was a promise she would gladly keep.
Screwing up her courage, she turned the door knob as quietly as she could, praying that it wouldn’t creak or, worse still, that he hadn’t locked it from the inside. Her luck was holding so far, and she managed to creep into the room without disturbing his slumbering form. Now, all she had to do was retrieve the gun from the bedside cabinet, which, unfortunately, was on the far side of the bed. She sneaked around it which, although only a single, seemed to take ten years to navigate. The sweat popped out on her forehead, and her hands felt decidedly clammy.
She was about to kill this
man in cold blood but, as she kept reminding herself, he was dead already. That much was a fact, documented in writing by the War Office. Who was going to look for him now?
She remembered, as she reached the bedside table, that the knob on its one drawer had come off, and the only way to get inside it was to get a purchase on the edges that jutted out at the front and yank it hard. She also knew that it creaked violently as it opened. How she was going to manage that without waking him, heaven only knew. She fervently hoped that her granny’s sleeping powders were strong enough; by her calculation he must have swallowed at least half the amount she put in his bedtime beverage before he refused to drink anymore. She waited and watched for a moment as he snored blissfully on. Rodney Purbright might have had two lives, but she was determined he wasn’t going to have three.
Chapter Nine
He slept on, dreaming of his audacious past. He had been a clever sod, even if he said so himself. He hunkered down into Elvira’s cosy blankets as his dream began to evolve to show his slightly younger self at the start of the War.
Private Rodney Purbright had been discharged as fit, his self-inflicted gunshot wound well and truly healed. In fact, the bullet had only grazed the skin of his big toe, because his hand had been shaking so much as he fired the shot. In his dream now, he was much braver and shot his whole foot off. He felt no pain as the scene dissolved to find him on a train trundling back to the front, his foot now intact.
He tossed in his sleep as the dream found him on a train bound for the Somme. He was standing in the crowded corridor as it chugged its way through the south of England, just as it had done in reality. Voices singing It’s a Long Way to Tipperary resounded around him. All those stupid sods, they were just cannon fodder. They wouldn’t be singing soon. They’d be whimpering and calling for their mummies.
But Rodney Purbright had never intended to be one of those cheery ‘Tommy Atkinses’. He threw the blankets off as his dream began turning into a nightmare, a nightmare he had, along with millions of other poor buggers, already lived through over and over again.
