“Boddingtons,” Connors said cryptically.
“What?”
“Boddingtons. That’s the bitter John King said you drank. Is that what your brother drinks? It was him with John King in that restaurant, not you, wasn’t it?”
For the first time, Scott looked slightly un-nerved. “I want Mr Billing here,” he said quickly. “I know my rights, and I think I’ve co-operated enough.”
Connors nodded. “I don’t think that will be necessary. You see, I know your brother did it, Mr Headly. I understand why you are protecting him; he is your brother after all. But as I said, you are being rather foolish.”
“I’m not protecting him!” Scott exclaimed, his voice raised. “I don’t have to protect him! My brother hasn’t done anything wrong! I haven’t done anything wrong! So either let me go, or get Mr Billing here now!”
Connors sensed that he had Scott on the run at last and drove home his advantage. “You told Christine Davis that Joanne Henshaw had dumped your brother. You also told her that Joanne had found another boyfriend. How did you know that, Scott? Did Max tell you he had seen them?”
“He did no such thing!”
“So you saw them?”
Scott was suddenly flustered. “Chrissy made a mistake! She was lying!”
“I don’t think so.”
“Prove it!”
Connors smiled. “We will, Mr Headly. And when we do, you will be faced with the agonising decision of either having to admit to the murder yourself, or condemning your brother for it.”
Scott seemed un-moved by Connors remarks. “Can I go now?” he demanded.
“Yes, you can go.”
As Scott stood up to leave, Connors added, “Oh, and by the way, Mr Headly, Miss Davis asked me to give you a message. She knows your brother killed her best friend. She doesn’t believe for a second that you did it. She also knows that you are covering for him, and she’s not happy about it. I don’t exactly know what your relationship is with Miss Davis, but I know where it’s heading. You see, her message is simple: Tell the truth, or she will never forgive you and you will lose her forever.”
Scott hesitated, and Connors saw the look in his eyes. It was a look of torment and sudden indecision. For a moment he thought Scott was going to admit the truth. But Scott seemed to think again, and he quickly turned and left.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Good Girls
Victoria sat in front of the mirror in her bedroom. She was trying to brush her hair.
“I must look like a right dick-head,” she moaned.
She had woken up two hours before, and had burst into tears as soon as she saw Louise. They had lain on the bed together, crying and hugging. Victoria felt so ashamed about what she had told Louise and Rosanna, and about the way she had behaved. And Louise was so upset about what she had heard. And they were both still upset about what had happened to Jo. The overall effect was that they cried non-stop for almost the whole first hour.
Eventually their tears had subsided, and they lay together in each others arms for another hour before they even stirred. They would have stayed like that for a lot longer, but Louise had drunk so much coffee with Rosanna that morning that she just had to go for a wee. That was when Victoria got up and surveyed the damage to her hair.
She put the brush down on the dressing table and just stared at her reflection. The hair on one side of her head went down to her waist, while on the other side it didn’t even reach her shoulder.
She sighed heavily. “I’m such a twat, I really am. I’ve ruined it. I’ll have to cut it all off now.”
Louise came back into the bedroom and stood behind her. “You’re not a twat,” she said, and put her hands on Victoria’s shoulders. “You were angry that’s all. It was just a spur of the moment thing. Rosie said she’ll come up after she and Dave have had their tea. I think she likes the idea of cutting your hair. It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”
“Is she alright? I can remember fighting with her.”
“Yes, she’s fine.”
“How did she take it?”
“I think she was more angry than upset. It was such a shock. For me too. I suspected something like that must have happened, but hearing it like that…”
Victoria looked at Louise’s sad expression in the mirror, and suddenly felt terrible. “Oh, I’m sorry, Louise. I didn’t mean to splurge it all out like that. Not on top of everything else. I’ve never told another soul before –except Zach, of course. You know what I’m like. I hate talking about it. I get angry at the mere mention of my daddy. But it just came out. I couldn’t help it.”
“It was that sedative the nurse gave you. That and the shock.”
Victoria could see the tears welling up in Louise’s eyes and quickly stood up and turned to her. They fell into one another’s arms and Louise burst into tears again. It was all she seemed to do that day. Victoria couldn’t help herself, and soon she began to cry again too.
“Oh, Louise!” she said between sobs. “I am a hopeless friend, aren’t I? Here you are, suffering like this, and all I do is sleep all day and then moan about my hair-do. I don’t know what you see in me.”
“I love you,” Louise whispered tearfully. “I keep seeing Jo’s smiling face, but I think about how I would feel if I lost you.”
Talking about Jo out loud made them cry even more. But they had already cried so much that day that their tears quickly dried up, and they soon began to calm down.
Louise sniffed and looked up at Victoria. “I suppose I’m being selfish, but I can’t help it.”
Victoria smiled at her. “You won’t lose me, Louise. Nobody is going to kill me; they all enjoy beating me up all the time. They love the sound their fist’s make when they hit my nose. It’s much more fun, and they can do it over and over again.”
Louise laughed. It was brief and stifled. The tears were still in her eyes, and she hugged Victoria tighter.
Victoria patted her back. “Come on. Let’s sit down. If we cry any more you’ll shrivel up.”
They wiped their eyes and went into the lounge. They sat down together on the sofa. Louise lay in Victoria’s arms, and Victoria toyed with Louise’s hair.
“How long did I sleep for?” she asked.
“About five hours,” Louise replied. “Rosie stayed with me most of the time. I don’t know what she was more upset about, Jo or you. But she cried too. I think she would have killed your dad if he was still alive.”
“I beat her to it,” Victoria muttered.
Louise sat up. “You shouldn’t think like that.”
“But I do. I killed him. Or at least I was responsible.”
“So what?”
Louise’s remark made Victoria stare. “That’s a bit heartless coming from you, isn’t it?”
“I don’t care anymore!” Louise’s voice was raised, and her expression was much more hardened and determined than Victoria had ever seen her. “Your dad was evil! He didn’t care about how much suffering and distress he caused you! He only thought about himself! So why should you care about him? So he’s dead! Good! At least he can’t hurt you anymore! I hate him for what he did to you! I hate him! And I’m glad he’s dead! Rosie was right! He deserved it!”
Victoria put her hands on each side of Louise’s face, holding her gently. “Hey now, take it easy,” she said softly. “It’s all in the past. I know I’m the last person who should be giving you advice, the memory of it drives me mad, but I try my damnedest not to think about it, so I don’t want you to start. It already costs me a fortune in vodka. If the two of us start drinking to forget we’ll be bankrupt in a week.”
“How can you joke about it?”
“You’ve seen what I’m like when I take it seriously. If I was like that all the time I’d slit my throat. Now stop it. If there’s one thing you’ve said that’s true, it’s that he’s dead, and it’s over with.”
Victoria kissed Louise on the lips. It was the first time she had initiated any sexual activ
ity, and it pleased Louise greatly. They kissed again. It wasn’t passionate, it was just caring and gentle, and it made Louise feel warm and loved. She hugged Victoria tightly, and they sat on the sofa quietly together.
Eventually Louise broke the silence.
“I can’t stop thinking about Jo,” she said. “She never hurt anyone. She didn’t do anything wrong. She didn’t deserve to get killed. It wasn’t fair.”
“I know, it should have been me,” Victoria said thoughtfully.
Louise instantly sat up. “Don’t say that!” she snapped.
“But that’s what you meant, though, isn’t it?” Victoria replied.
“No, I didn’t!” Louise said desperately. “I didn’t mean that at all!”
“Oh, I know what you meant, Louise, and I know you didn’t mean it in that way. And I’m not upset with you, but it still means the same thing. Jo wasn’t so bad, so she didn’t deserve to get killed. But me, I’m a slut. I’m always causing trouble and getting into fights. I dress like a tart, lead boys on, break them and their girlfriends up. If there was ever a girl that needed killing, it has to be me. But life is never fair, is it? Jo was an innocent compared to me. But she was the one that got murdered. Society tries to tell you that only bad girls get punished, but it’s not true. Being a good girl is no protection either.
“When I was six I was a little angel. I was a good little girl. I was hardly ever naughty. And I was never smacked. I didn’t have tantrums, I never complained about the presents I got at Christmas, even if they were totally the wrong ones. I was always polite to relatives, and I loved my mummy and daddy. Then it started. I was like a little flower, all delicate and pretty. Then life stepped on me, and ground me into the muck. I was a good girl, and I got crushed.”
Victoria sounded and looked emotional, but she wasn’t angry. Her words held an edge of bitterness, but it seemed that speaking them unloaded that bitterness and released it in some way. As she spoke, Louise could only stare at her in silence, fascinated by what she was saying, and by what she was going to say.
“When I grew up, I didn’t want to be a good girl anymore. It didn’t make any difference, and my daddy kept telling me how bad I was for making him do the things he did to me. It was all my fault you see. I egged him on, with my body and my temptations. I was a whore, a slut. So when I got older I behaved like one. I slept with every boy I met. I was the village bike, I was the town bike, I was the flippin’ county bike. If a boy hadn’t ridden me he had to be either queer, a monk, or still in nappies. I was fourteen and I was already trash. Then one night I snapped the other way.
“I was with a boy in Southern Cemetery. We had just had sex when two of his friends turned up. I was drunk as usual, and I didn’t care when they decided to take their turns. The third boy was on top of me when it started to rain. It wasn’t just light rain, it really poured. The soil turned to mud, and we got absolutely drenched. I was cold, and the rain made me sober up. I could feel him on top of me, and inside me. He was big, and heavy, and we kept slithering about in the mud. The other boys laughed, but he was beginning to hurt me. I told him to stop, but he wouldn’t. He had waited this long for his turn and he wanted to finish. I started to struggle, but he was too heavy, and we just slithered about more. Finally I shouted out, telling him his balls were shovelling mud up my bum. It made the other boys fall about in hysterics. But it put him off and he stopped. Or maybe he had finished. Anyway, the three of them were still laughing when they left me in the rain and the mud. They had treated me like shit. But I was shit, so I guess they were right. Apart from Zach, they were the last boys I slept with.
“From then on I let the boys see and feel what they had always been able to have in the past. But now I didn’t let them have it. Instead I would lead them on, let them think they were going to get what they wanted, but right at the last moment I took it away from them. I would put them down horribly. I would squash their egos; ridicule them in front of their friends. I treated them like shit, the way they had treated me. And I enjoyed it.
“The more I did it, the more I liked it, and the more I began to hate them. They were all like my daddy. They only wanted one thing, and they didn’t care who they got it from. They had all treated me like shit, like worse than an animal, like meat. Dead meat. So I treated them the same. I despised them all, even Chrissy’s boyfriends, or Jo’s. I would seize every opportunity to break them up, to get rid of them. They didn’t deserve to be with Chrissy or Jo. They were better than me. They were good girls.
“I could never understand why Chrissy would shout at me. I was doing it for her own good, but she didn’t seem to understand. Chrissy and Jo were my best friends. Now Chrissy hates me and Jo’s dead. That’s why it should have been me. Jo should be alive and Chrissy should be with Scott. She really liked him, I could tell. It made me hate him even more.”
Victoria suddenly sat up, turned to Louise, grabbed both her hands and asked, “Do you hate me?”
Louise stared at her in surprise. “No, of course not,” she said. “You did some bad things, but bad things happened to you first. It made you act badly. I don’t blame you for any of it. I don’t care what you did in the past, who you slept with or who you didn’t sleep with. I love you, Vikki, and I’ll always love you. I loved you from the moment I first saw you. Even when you made a face at me in class.”
Victoria smiled in a sad sort of way. “Rotten, wasn’t I?”
Louise shook her head. “You didn’t know me. And I was staring at you.”
“It’s a good job I didn’t know why.”
“Would you have avoided me?”
Victoria shrugged. “I might have. But I’m not known for my good judgement am I?”
Louise smiled. “You know, if you went to a psychiatrist, I bet he’d make a fortune out of your case.”
“If I went to The Sun, I’d make a fortune.”
They both laughed. But it wasn’t short and suppressed and filled with guilt like it had been up to now. Instead it was loud and unrestrained and happy. It was the first time like that in hours.
When their laughter had subsided, Victoria held Louise’s hands even more tightly in hers. She had never let go of them, and now she looked at Louise with a very earnest expression on her face.
“You know, Louise, I’m glad you never told me,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m glad I never avoided you, and I’m glad we got together. I’ve never felt so loved by another person until I met you. I don’t want to think about what’s happened in the past, about my daddy, about boys, not even about Jo. I don’t want to think about any of it anymore. I just want to go back into my bedroom with you and do it. Say you’ll come with me, Louise. Please?”
Louise stared back at her and nodded, and together they went back into the bedroom.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Bad News
To say that Veronica Davis was upset at the sight of her daughter being brought home by the police was an understatement. And if that was being upset, then the news that Chrissy had been found with Scott Headly meant that Veronica’s disposition could only be described as absolutely livid. Not only did she scream and bawl at Chrissy, she physically chased her round the house brandishing a mop.
By the time her brother had returned from school, Chrissy was barricaded in her bedroom. She daren’t even come out to visit the bathroom in case her mother was lying in wait for her, mop at the ready.
Her brother switched off his walkman and pulled the headphones from his ears. He wondered what was going on as he listened to his mother ranting on to herself in the kitchen.
“I don’t know what ideas young people get into their heads these days. I work and slave all my life. I try to do the best for my children. I teach them to be careful, to look after themselves. Don’t talk to strangers, I tell them, don’t get into any cars with people you don’t know. And what does she do?” Veronica came out of the kitchen and shouted upstairs. “She lies to her poor mother and goes visiting murderers at th
eir own homes! That’s what she does!”
As Veronica returned to the kitchen to rant some more, her son shook his head sadly and muttered, “Women,” under his breath. He replaced his headphones and switched his walkman back on, and then he went upstairs to his own bedroom to do his homework.
It wasn’t until evening that her father came upstairs and knocked softly on Chrissy’s door.
“Open the door, Chrissy. It’s alright, love. I’ve come to give you the all clear. The mops in the cupboard and if you don’t come down and let your mother hug you, she’ll explode.”
There was a click and the door opened. Chrissy peeped out, her eyes red from her tears. “I’m sorry, dad. I know I was stupid, but I didn’t mean it.”
Her father pulled her out and hugged her. “Oh, it’s alright, you softy. You mother and I just worry about you, that’s all. You did a daft thing, and I’m just pleased that you’re alright. Now go downstairs and talk to your mother.” He kissed her on the cheek and brushed back her hair. “Go on now. I’ll follow you down.”
Chrissy practically shot down the stairs, and her reunion with her mother was plain to hear even before her father had reached the top of the stairs on his way after her.
By the time Adam Campbell rang, Chrissy was in the arms of her mother watching telly.
“It’s for you, Chrissy,” her father said coming back into the room after he had answered the phone. “It’s that boyfriend of yours, the one with the posh car and chauffeur.”
Chrissy clapped her hands to her face in surprise. “Adam!” she exclaimed. After everything that had happened, she had forgotten all about him.
As Chrissy got up and hurried into the hall, her mother said, “Are we allowing her to take phone calls after the shock she gave me?”
“Oh, I think so,” her husband replied. “You did get her a few times with that mop after all.”
“Huh!”
Chrissy sat down by the phone and picked up the receiver. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. Then she said the most obvious thing. “Hello, Adam.”
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