by Iris Gower
‘Know something awful, Cath?’ Doreen said, her voice hoarse. ‘I’m glad he’s dead, glad he can’t hurt me nor anyone else ever again. I know it’s a sin to kill, the Bible tells you that, but there was nothing else I could do. He’d had his way with me, beating me, shaming me in front of all those men and then he was going to do the same to Mrs Grenfell. I couldn’t let him do that, could I?’ She was crying, tears running down her cheeks unchecked. Catherine sat beside her and held her hand.
‘Anyone with guts would have done the same as you,’ she said. ‘Don’t you think about it, you just rest and get better, right?’
‘And when I get better, what then; prison?’ Doreen’s eyes were anguished. ‘I don’t think I could stand it, not being shut away in a jail.’
‘It won’t come to that, Mrs Grenfell has got the best lawyer she can from London, you’ll be all right, you’ll see.’
She did not care to tell Doreen of the rumours that were rife in the town, rumours that Bethan Hopkins had hired the best prosecuting counsel she could find, a man of grim determination and with a hatred of the lower orders from which he himself had risen.
Julian Fitzgibbon had been seen riding through town with his nose high, as though the stink from the works along the river bank was a personal affront. He was determined to prove that Hari Grenfell was involved in the murder of Sergeant Meadows, influenced, no doubt, by the very large amount of money Mrs Hopkins was able to pay him.
The door opened and Catherine looked up. Her hands were suddenly cold, her face drained of colour. ‘What are you doing here?’
Boyo Hopkins entered the room quietly, he was carrying a basket of fruit and a huge bouquet of flowers. He looked pale and drawn. ‘I don’t know how but my wife is involved in this mess in some way.’
Catherine fought the mingling of pity and love that rushed into her blood and moved to the window. Boyo must solve his own problems, if his wife was acting like a mad woman then it was up to him to sort it out.
The silence stretched endlessly but Catherine forced herself not to look round. Finally Boyo spoke again. ‘I came to offer my help, it looks as if you might need it, Doreen,’ he said quietly.
‘Why should you want to help me?’ Doreen asked in genuine surprise.
‘Just say I do not like to see any injustice being done.’
‘What injustice?’ Doreen struggled to sit up against the pillows. ‘What do you mean, do you know something I don’t know?’
Catherine turned sharply, willing Boyo to look at her, when he did, she shook her head warningly. He read her well and she could see him searching his mind for the right thing to say. ‘Usually women come out of such a situation as this badly. Judges do not take account of the ill-treatment meted out by a husband to his wife, I am afraid the odds are nearly always stacked in favour of the man. Money and influence always helps.’
‘I don’t want your charity, though it’s kind of you to offer, I’m sure.’ Doreen lifted her chin. ‘I did what was right, I did the only thing I could do. They was all going to watch while Mrs Grenfell was … well, you know what I mean.’
Catherine could see by the tightening of Boyo’s lips that he knew all too well what Doreen meant. ‘Well, my offer stands,’ he said at last; ‘you just have to send for me and I’ll be there.’
Catherine walked with him to the door and closed it behind her. ‘Thank you, Boyo, for not telling Doreen about the lawyer your wife has hired, she’s worried enough as it is.’ She suddenly felt awkward being with him.
‘Bethan has changed,’ he said, ‘she is like a woman possessed, there is no reasoning with her, I can’t even talk to her any more.’
‘Then it’s not true that she’s having your child?’
He frowned, ‘I told you once, it’s just not possible. Why won’t you believe me, Catherine?’
‘How can you not know!’ Catherine heard the anger in her voice and changed the subject abruptly. ‘Look, thank you for your offer of help, we might have to accept it. Doreen has no money and Mrs Grenfell is not very rich, not any more, thanks to your wife.’
Boyo sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry for all that Bethan has done, I don’t know how to deal with her strangeness, sometimes I fear for her sanity.’
He was suddenly vulnerable and Catherine could not bear it. She began to walk away from him but he caught her in his arms, holding her close. She clung to him for a moment as he smoothed back her hair, ‘Catherine, what a mess I’ve made of things.’
She pulled away from him abruptly. ‘You made your bed, as they say.’ She turned and went back into Doreen’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.
‘The bastards!’ Craig was pacing the room, he had been unable to relax ever since Hari had returned home, her face white, her clothes covered in blood. ‘If I had been there I would have shot the lot of them. Worse than animals, don’t deserve to live, not men like that.’
‘Hush, love, it was days ago, now, it doesn’t help to go on about it.’ Hari rubbed at her eyes, she wished he would calm down, it was over, Meadows was dead.
‘To think that man put his hands on you, I can’t bear it.’
‘Look, Craig, he paid for what he did with his life. I came to no real harm, not like poor Doreen who was hurt and humiliated before all those louts.’
‘But it’s not over, is it?’ Craig sank into a chair. ‘There will be the ordeal of going into court, telling all who wish to hear what happened out there, it’s going to give you so much pain.’
‘I did no wrong.’ Hari was suddenly angry. ‘For heaven’s sake, Craig, stop this before you drive me mad.’
He looked at her. ‘I’m angry for your sake, love, can’t you see that? My job is to protect you and I was not there to do it.’
‘There, you see? It’s your masculine pride that’s hurt most, your sense of honour, you can’t take your revenge on Meadows so in a subtle way you are taking it out on me.’
‘Rubbish!’ Craig leant forward in his chair. ‘That’s just arrant nonsense.’
‘Is it?’ Hari suddenly felt too weary to argue any more. ‘Let’s not quarrel over it, Craig, please. Every time you speak of it you remind me of how frightened I was, can’t you see that?’
He was silent for a moment and then he moved across the room and knelt before her, his head in her lap, his arms around her waist. ‘I’m sorry, Hari, I’m a thoughtless fool! You’re right of course, I want to batter someone into the ground and I can’t.’
She smoothed his greying hair. ‘Don’t let this hurt us any more than it has already, Craig, we are both going to need all our patience and strength to face the gossips in the weeks to come.’
‘Come on, Hari, I want to make love to you, I want my wife in my arms, I want to kiss those wonderful lips of yours.’
Hari allowed him to lead her to their bedroom and when they were both naked beneath the sheets, she clung to his broad shoulders with an urgency she had forgotten she possessed. As her husband made love to her, she knew that in some strange way they were renewing their vows, declaring their love afresh. She realized then that the ordeal she had faced would not drive them apart but would bring them closer than they had ever been before.
As Boyo Hopkins rode across the rocky ground towards Ty Craig, his shoulders were slumped, his spirits low. He would try to reason with Bethan once more, tell her to drop the whole matter of Meadows’s death, it had nothing to do with her.
With a little planning, a little discussion with the right people, the whole tragic incident could be dealt with quickly. What had happened was a clear-cut case of self-defence and Boyo was confident he could find the men who had been present at the shooting and persuade them to tell the truth.
He reined his animal to a halt some distance away from the grim, grey stone of the house, trying to marshal his thoughts. If he could convince Bethan that she should not be taking this course of action it would make things so much easier.
With the weasel of a man she had brought in to act pos
thumously in Meadows’s defence, the case would be a long, drawn-out affair. Julian Fitzgibbon would produce witnesses who would lie, or at best bend the truth. He knew that a case could go either way, it was a matter of who the judge chose to believe and what chance would Doreen Meadows have against a man like Fitzgibbon?
He jerked the reins and the animal moved forward slowly, as though reluctant to proceed to the shadowed walls of Ty Craig.
The groom appeared quickly at his side and took the horse, leading the animal towards the stables. Boyo took a deep breath and moved under the arched doorway and into the house.
Bethan was sitting in a chair, some papers in her hand, she looked more animated than Boyo had seen her in a long time. ‘Boyo, you’re home. Come here, darling, I want to talk to you about this Meadows business. Isn’t it too bad when a member of the police force, going about his lawful duty, trying to relieve an overheated woman of a dangerous weapon, gets himself killed?’
So that was the way the prosecution meant to go and such an argument might well work if witnesses could be brought who were not above perjuring themselves.
‘I want to talk to you about that very subject, as it happens,’ Boyo said quietly, taking a chair opposite his wife.
‘Oh? Why am I not surprised by that?’ Bethan’s pale eyes clouded so that he could not read her expression. ‘What does this mean to you, what do you care about Hari Grenfell or this Meadows woman?’
‘I could ask you the same question,’ Boyo said quietly. ‘Let it go, Bethan, it does not concern you any more than it concerns me.’
‘Oh, but it does concern me,’ Bethan said at once. ‘Meadows was helping me out, he was at the spot near the so-called emporium on my business; of course I should concern myself with his death.’
She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. ‘Is this going to affect your little fancy piece by any chance?’
Boyo ignored her words. ‘Haven’t you exacted enough revenge?’ he said. ‘Hari Grenfell is all but ruined, Catherine has lost her farm, her home and is out of a job. Her cousin’s land is useless. How far do you intend to go before you satisfy your lust for punishment?’
Bethan looked at him, her head on one side. ‘There is only one thing that will persuade me to let this matter drop.’ She waited until she was sure she had his full attention. ‘I have not told you the wonderful news yet, Boyo: I am expecting our child.’
‘Rubbish!’ Boyo was on his feet. ‘Bethan, see sense, I have not slept with you, how can you be pregnant?’
‘But you did sleep with me,’ Bethan said, ‘one night when I was not feeling very well. Remember you sat by my bed, we drank a hot drink together?’ She smiled. ‘You did not stay in your chair all night, of course.’
Boyo remembered, with a feeling of ice running down his spine, the scratches on his back, marks like those of a woman’s nails. He had put it out of his mind, convincing himself there must have been a rational explanation for the marks. He looked at his wife and she nodded.
‘Yes, I am expecting our baby, the doctor has confirmed it. Go to him, ask him if you don’t believe me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Say you’ll come back to me, live with me here at Ty Craig and I will drop this case at once.’
Boyo sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair. He must agree to her terms, at least for the moment. Lull her into a false sense of security. ‘Bethan, I am back, to all intents and purposes,’ Boyo said. ‘As you point out, I came to look after you because you weren’t well and most nights I have stayed, what more can I do?’
‘You can be a proper husband again, Boyo, that’s my price.’
He knew what she meant, she wanted him in her bed, in her clutches, a man chained for ever. ‘You are asking a great deal,’ he said and he saw Bethan flinch. She paled and then the rich colour flooded her face as she grew angry.
‘Very well, I shall take this matter all the way, I will not rest until I see the lot of them pay for what they have done to me. Don’t think I have played my final card, Boyo, I have much more ammunition and I am ready to use it, your precious fancy piece will rue the day she tried to take you away from me.’
Boyo had risen to his feet but now he sank into his chair. There was a crazy look in his wife’s eyes, a look that boded ill for Catherine. He felt instinctively that, so far, Bethan had only been playing with revenge; now, she was mad enough to do anything.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll do anything you want, Bethan, anything.’
He saw her settle back into her chair with a smug smile on her face and in that moment, he felt he could take her by the throat and throttle the life from her.
‘That’s good,’ she was magnanimous now, ‘I’ll write a note dismissing Fitzgibbon … I’ll write it tomorrow.’ She was simpering like a young girl. ‘For tonight, there are matters of far greater importance to deal with and I am looking forward to our second honeymoon with great anticipation. Now, Boyo, ring the bell, we shall have a drink of porter to celebrate the occasion.’
Controlling his anger, Boyo rose to his feet and pulled the bell-cord, he was putting on the greatest act of his life and he was not sure he could sustain it for very long. When the nervous little maid brought the wine, he managed to smile as he raised his glass. ‘To you, Bethan,’ he said softly.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Liam climbed from the train at Swansea Station and looked around him, taking in the dingy buildings that sprawled along the track. He had become used to making the journey from Ireland across the sea to Wales and each time he hoped that he would be able to persuade Catherine to return to Ireland with him. When he told her what had happened back home she would agree to making the trip, he was sure of it.
He began to walk towards Watkin Street, a mixture of anticipation at seeing Catherine again mingled with a sense of apprehension. There, hidden below the surface, was the fear that she would have gone back to Boyo Hopkins, a fear he could never quite conquer.
The house was one of a terrace, tall houses built about fifty years earlier, grimed now with dust and smoke, the stone changed from mellow warmth to a dingy grey. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, they were worn but clean, the flowery pattern almost lost by much washing. He knocked on the door and waited in a fever of impatience for someone to answer.
‘Catherine.’ She looked pale and there were dark shadows beneath her eyes. ‘Catherine, are you all right colleen?’
‘Liam, I didn’t expect to see you.’ Was there a tinge of disappointment in her tone. ‘You look beat, you shouldn’t be making the long journey so often just to see me.’
‘I wanted to see you, I needed to see you, Cam, I want you to come home with me to Ireland.’
‘I can’t, Liam, don’t let’s go through all that again.’ Catherine spoke quickly.
‘Can I come in or do I have to stand out here on the step?’ Liam tried to force a smile.
‘Doreen is in bed, she’s not well, she … well, it’s a long story.’
‘Has something happened to her?’ Liam asked, forcing himself to sound calm. He wanted to take Catherine and shake some sense into her.
She led the way into the kitchen and without asking poured him a glass of lemon water. ‘There’s no tea left, sorry.’ She sat down opposite him and cupped her chin in her hands. She was thinner than when he’d seen her last but achingly beautiful with her red-gold hair coming loose from the pins.
‘Tell me this long story, from the beginning, Catherine.’ He realized that something was very wrong. He saw her look down at her hands. Her face was crumpled as though she was going to cry.
‘Sure now don’t go upsetting yourself, however bad it is, we can sort it out, I’m sure.’
‘Doreen shot her husband. Meadows is dead.’ Her voice was muffled.
Liam felt a shock of anger. ‘It’s probably what the old bastard deserved.’
He listened to Catherine’s account of the scene up on the hill near Summer Lodge. His fists bunched, it could just as well have been Ca
therine with Doreen that day.
‘You should have sent for me at once,’ he said when she had subsided into silence. ‘What’s happening now, is Doreen being charged with murder?’
Catherine shook her head. ‘That’s the funny thing, it’s all gone very quiet.’
‘Go on,’ Liam said.
‘Well, Mrs Hopkins got the best lawyers down from London, we thought Doreen would be convicted for sure and then, suddenly, the whole thing was hushed up. Doreen got off with a plea of self-defence. Even the judge could see that Doreen had been beaten to within an inch of her life but we all expected this London man to get a conviction for murder.’
‘Did Hopkins have a hand in this?’
‘I don’t know.’ Catherine shook her head. ‘I just don’t know what happened. All I’m glad about is it’s over, Doreen is free.’
‘How is Doreen?’
‘Not too bad, her wounds have healed but she’s not getting the nourishment she needs to get her strength back. We are both out of work. We have no money left and Mrs Grenfell can’t help, she is practically ruined.’
‘So Mrs Hopkins got what she wanted then by the look of it.’ Liam shook his head. ‘The woman is insane.’
‘It’s not fair!’ Catherine said hotly. ‘This all happened because Mrs Grenfell wouldn’t sack me. Now her name is being bandied about town, people are saying she is the one who pulled the trigger, it was her gun that was used to shoot Meadows. Folks won’t shop with her any more.’
‘Bethan Hopkins is dangerous,’ Liam said heavily. ‘Catherine, you’d better stay out of her way, she wants revenge, she hates you, she won’t let it rest, not if she lives to be a hundred.’
‘Well, if she wants me dead she needn’t stir a finger to do it, I’ll starve to death if I don’t find work soon.’
‘And Hopkins, what does he have to say, I expect he’s been round here?’
