by T L Blake
Robyn was glad to be thrown clear. The electricity had zapped her where she touched David. It was only an echo of what he had suffered, of what Andrew had suffered, but it brought searing agony. When she hit the ground, the pain diminished but her muscles were unable to move and she lay staring at the sky.
David collapsed to the ground, the voltage having stopped his legs from functioning and now, on hands and knees, he stayed very still, awaiting the effects to wear off.
Andrew stared at Robyn, unmoving, whilst George pummelled him in the chest. She’d been hit by the bloody voltage, he knew it. The pain that thing caused was indescribable and he wished she hadn’t felt the need to bring David down. In truth, he’d had this fight all along. George Downing was a big man. He came from a long line of hard working men and wasn’t the kind to run the abattoir from behind a desk. But Andrew was stronger, and faster. Desperate to get to Robyn, who lay unmoving on the concrete, staring at him, he grabbed George, rolled until the man was underneath him and let his fist fly freely. He connected squarely with George’s jaw and George went limp.
He ran to Robyn and took her hand.
“Robyn, are you alright?”
“Uh, yes. I think so.” He pulled her to a standing position but she was still shaky. “That hurt.”
“Yeah, it would.” He’d felt that particular pain enough for one lifetime.
He pulled Robyn towards the shack and paused briefly at the sprawled mass of an unconscious Jane. “Nice,” he stated as he walked past, squeezing Robyn’s hand. Jane’s face was a mess. But then, so was Robyn’s.
Inside the shack, Andrew moved to the control panel underneath the window. It was a simple enough procedure to get the gate to go down, especially as the keys appeared to have been left in the panel. He turned both, watched the lights come on and hit the button. That was it.
The sound of the machinery beginning to move was comforting, but it left them little time.
“Come on,” Andrew grabbed Robyn’s hand and pulled her to the already tilting walkway.
They jumped onto the gate at a run as the top slowly tilted. The whole gate would eventually pivot down into the water. Grabbing the low rail to stop slipping and falling into the murky depths, they made it across.
Andrew wasted no time lifting Robyn up onto the boat. The tide was already too low.
Robyn looked back as Andrew lifted her to the deck. George and Jane still lay sprawled where they had left them. There was no sign that either would be moving for a while. David on the other hand, had recovered from his brief electrocution and was walking away.
The gate continued to make slow progress, steadily dipping down into the sea and the tide continued to flow out.
Andrew moved adeptly, untying them from the harbour and getting the boat ready to sail. Robyn had no idea how to help and stayed out of the way. Jumping down into the small dip that had housed her the last time they took the boat out, she intended to sit where she had before but she stood up to watch Andrew’s stealth as he moved across the bow.
The sun was coming up, the sails glowing white as the rays began to hit their very tips and all Robyn could think was how very beautiful this vessel was. It was a lovely boat the best of times, but the fact that she would now provide their means of escape made her even more stunning. As Robyn perused the sleek lines, crisp white paintwork and highly polished wooden decks, she noticed the door to the galley and rooms below was open. Andrew would never have left it that way. She didn’t get chance to voice her concern.
Too late, Robyn realised that the muzzle of a shotgun poked out of the hole. She froze as the gun moved up and out of the galley, held firmly in the grip of Mr James Truscott. He arose, one slow step at a time, never taking his eyes, or the sights of the gun, off of her.
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Two black circles. That was all Robyn could see as the gun rose out of the darkness. The deck fell away from her feet, her stomach curled up and her mind floated into a state of panic. She looked around for help, but Andrew was at the bow.
James shifted the barrel of the gun, indicating that he wanted her to move and sit. He stayed in the shadows of the galley, not wanting to step out into the open.
Robyn held her hands out, palms towards James and did as she was ordered.
She glanced to the bow, where Andrew threw off a rope that tied them to the harbour and wanted to warn him, but he couldn’t possibly see James from his position and she had no opportunity to warn him of the danger.
“It takes just over three and a half minutes for the gate to get fully down, it’s going to be close.” Andrew walked the deck and jumped into the sunken area, realising, too late, his mistake. He whirled around and saw his grandfather.
James steadily rose out of the shadows. Hatred contorted his features, his mask having slipped.
Andrew didn’t avert his gaze from James but he sidestepped slowly and headed for Robyn’s position. James turned his eyes to Andrew and shook his head. Andrew froze.
James took a step towards Robyn and shoved the gun into her chest.
“Don’t move,” he ordered Andrew as the pain of the iron stabbed into her. Andrew’s feet halted, but he held a hand towards her, straining to offer comfort.
Robyn couldn’t move. Her hands gripped the underside of the seat as she was wracked with tremors. It was not just the gun, that at this range would tear a hole right through her, but the sheer malice with which it was being wielded that had her shaking. Robyn now understood that this was how James could kill so readily. His mask didn’t hide his feelings. It hid the fact that he had none.
Content that that neither of them would move, James stepped back, pulling the barrel away but keeping it trained on Robyn’s chest. He was eager to pull the trigger, nothing was hidden about his state of mind, but he was here because of Andrew. Robyn was just a very useful bargaining chip.
“You are such a disappointment to me.” James spoke to Andrew but didn’t look at him. “When you were first brought here I expected so much from you.”
“Don’t you dare talk about disappointment,” Andrew’s tongue was scathing. “All these years I thought that you struggled to show your feelings, that deep down you cared. What a fool I was. I never realised that it was all false, that there was always an ulterior motive.”
“Don’t you take the high horse with me, boy. I have given up a great many things for you, spent a great deal of time and effort on you. I deserve some respect.” James’s face reddened as the words spat from his mouth.
“Respect. Is that what you showed Katherine? Is that what you show the people who get in your way?” Robyn could hear the sarcasm, hear the years of pent up anger flowing through Andrew’s words as she stared down the barrel and into the little eyes of the portly man Andrew called Grandfather. Terrified that Andrew’s rage would only result in James pulling the trigger, she wished for Andrew to stop, but she had no voice.
“I don’t expect you to understand. You have never let me explain. I only hoped that someday, somehow we could put history aside and you could come to care about the town as I do.” James flicked a glance at Andrew but quickly returned the look to Robyn.
“Care? Is that what you think you’re doing?”
James sighed deeply, as if he held the weight of the universe on his shoulders. “You won’t understand, but it’s my responsibility, my charge. It always has been.”
“What do you mean?” Andrew was wary. His eyes flicked from James, to Robyn, and back, over and over again. She could tell that he was plotting, calculating, working out if he could distract James enough to close the gap and get her out of there.
“Damn it Andrew. This is not for her ears. It’s private. It is a great sorrow that must burden only the Truscott line.”
“No,” Andrew moved one step. “If you want me to hear it, you say it now, Robyn or no Robyn,”
James looked at Robyn with haughty disdain before breathing a sigh. “It happened years ago, before Porthmollek was a t
own, when it was a village, scattered houses on the Porth Manor estate.” As he spoke, James’s eyes turned to Andrew but the gun remained in place. “William Truscott was the only son of John and Elizabeth. He was young, handsome, rich and very foolish with it. His father summoned him from London to come and assist in the running of the estate, not so much because he needed help, but because William’s behaviour had begun to cause concern and he wanted him closer to home.”
James paused. The tale seemed to be weighty to tell, as if the effort of offloading the words was wearing him down.
“William liked the ladies. Bringing him here didn’t change that. The local young women fawned over him, rich and good looking as he was, and damn, he took advantage of it. William saw to it that he bedded half the women of the village before the summer had even begun. Unfortunately, he also saw to it that he bedded the ones who had spurned his advances. William liked a drink, and with it he could turn mean. John and Elizabeth knew of his problems, but certain standards had to be upheld and they could hardly have been expected to dry him out. So, William continued his drink fuelled rages and his parents were at a loss as to what to do, until fate stepped in to help, or so they thought.”
Andrew had a puzzled look on his face. This was a tale that he had not heard before but it was hardly a unique yarn.
“Malaise set in. William became ill, lethargic. He no longer had the energy to pursue his scoundrel ways. Elizabeth and John believed that it was spiritual intervention, a curse if you will, to stop William from destroying more lives.” James looked at Andrew and then Robyn for understanding, waiting for them to get what he meant. Robyn let out a deep breath as she realised the implications and Andrew dropped his outstretched hand. “William, you see, was the first. He is where it all stems from.”
“He had sideroblastic anaemia.” The words dropped from her lips as the vision of a young man, many years ago, set into her mind.
“Yes, and thanks to his behaviour, a great deal of bastard Truscott children were fathered; children who also inherited the gene.”
James paused long enough for Andrew to realise the implications of what he’d said. The curse of Porthmollek was the product of one man’s appetite and all those affected were descendants of the Truscott line.
“Of course, Elizabeth and John didn’t know that William’s mystery ailment would be transferred to the children. They just had all those illegitimate children to deal with. Fathers of innocent girls, husbands of petrified wives, they all knew who was responsible. There could have been a great scandal, something that the Truscott’s would never have been able to recover from. John had only one option.”
“He paid them off.” Andrew spoke quietly as if the words had only been a thought, that they weren’t meant to be heard.
“Yes. He paid them off: land, money, cattle, whatever it took for their silence. He dealt with every single claimant until there was nothing left. The estate became poor, too much land had been given away and before long it became apparent that it had become unsalvageable.
“John and Elizabeth had a bigger priority though; dealing with their ailing son. The estate was lost, leaving the Truscott family to move into the only property that they still owned; Holbrook cottage.”
Robyn stared, stunned by the name.
“Yes, that little property has always been in Truscott hands,” James answered, but Andrew looked at her with knowing eyes. She remembered when she had first mentioned the house to him on the beach, the look in his eyes then, surprise mixed with a little fear. James had kept her exactly where he had wanted her all this time. She had been played from the first moment she got there.
“Exactly how does this equate to you being charged with taking care of the town?” Andrew asked.
“William died. Without medical understanding, he didn’t live many years. After his son’s death, John swore that he would put things right, would get the estate back, would put the Truscott’s back where they belonged. After Elizabeth passed on, he took a young bride, one who could bear an heir for him, one who could ensure the line, and he taught that child, Henry, that it was his responsibility to put it right.
“When Henry came of age, John was an old man, but the teachings had not gone unheard. Henry travelled, learned, went to seek his fortune abroad, but when he returned, a rich man in many ways, he found Porthmollek to be in desperate need. The children, the offspring of William had grown too, and they shared his curse. Young men and women fought with their symptoms. They married, had children, but died young. Henry, insistent that his father’s teachings meant that he had to do right by the town as well as the Truscott’s, began to help the families affected, believing that it was his own brother’s wickedness that had brought this upon his people.
“The Truscott heirs are sworn to help those afflicted and bring back the standing of the family name.” Now James stood tall, chin high and looked at Andrew.
“I have no heir, save you. I wanted, no, needed you to carry on that oath, that duty, for the people of this community, for the name that you refuse to bear. You are free of the illness, Andrew. You could free the line, make us great again and help the people. And only you, Andrew, can give them longer lives.”
“I’m not a Truscott. I never will be,” Andrew said defiantly, “These people need proper medical care. They need professional treatment, not some potion but actual medicine. I cannot stand by and allow this to continue. Damn the Truscott’s.”
“You will never see my point of view, will you?” James tightened his grip on the gun.
“No.”
“She was the same you know, stubborn. She wouldn’t have understood either. I knew that even when I first met her.”
“She?” Shock filled Andrew’s voice and his body went rigid.
“Yes. I knew that she would never understand what I was trying to achieve, never allow me to get what I wanted from an infant. I knew that I would have to wait, play the long game, but I had time then, and I liked her. I truly did. Until she betrayed me.”
Confused, Robyn looked from James to Andrew and back. The two men stared at each other.
“Betrayed?”
“She found herself a lover, a dalliance or so I thought, until I discovered that they were planning on running away.” James was almost flippant but there was emotion breaking through the façade. “I offered her a home, safety, companionship. I tried to show her affection. I went through all the motions, but she never did quite fall for it and he, Harold, actually loved her. They were going to leave, to start again somewhere new, the two of them and their two children. The ingratitude infuriated me. ”
“I don’t understand.” Andrew stepped slightly closer to Robyn whilst memory had James distracted.
“I caught her packing your things. I couldn’t let you be taken from me, Andrew. I couldn’t allow you to go. You were so special. You are so special. I had to keep you.” James moved his gaze from Robyn to Andrew and saw the pained look on his grandson’s face. “So I did what was necessary to keep you here, to keep you with me.”
“You, did, what, was, necessary?” Andrew spoke through gritted teeth. Robyn could see his body shaking as he struggled to hold himself steady.
“I had to, don’t you see?” James shrugged.
Robyn didn’t see at all, she was confused.
“You stopped her leaving.” Anger welled up in Andrew, even in the dim light it was easy to see. “All these years, I thought she left me and forgot about me, and all this time she was dead?”
“I wasn’t going to let her take you. I’d worked to damned hard to get you here. I had no choice but to get rid of them both.” James’s haughty air had returned, his arrogance showing that he felt no remorse for what he had done.
“Both, you killed both of them?” Andrew lowered his head.
“Yes. He was nothing to me, left behind a snivelling teenage son, as if I cared. But I did care for her. After all, we’d been together for years by this point. I gave her the option to stay if she s
howed remorse.” James looked from Andrew to Robyn and then back again, seeking understanding, camaraderie. He got none. “She pleaded for her life, everyone does, but she never asked to be forgiven.” James’s face was even, forthright, he felt no emotion telling of his crimes. He asked for remorse from others without being able to feel it himself.
When James turned to Andrew there was something else in his gaze. “I should have taken what I needed then, but foolishly I waited. I wanted to see what would happen as you grew, as you matured, but there was nothing, and by that time I was too late.” James stepped towards Andrew, taking his eyes completely off Robyn but not lowering the gun. She considered moving, but to where? “I grew to care for you and I couldn’t just take what I wanted then. I needed you to give it.”
There was silence as the two men faced each other, but it was Andrew who eventually broke it.
“Everything you do, have always done, has been about living, living a long life and you don’t care who you step on along the way.”
“Isn’t that what everybody wants?”
“Others don’t kill for it.” The rage behind the brooding eyes was palpable. Robyn would have withered had it been focussed on her, but James stood firm.
“I brought you here to gain your trust Andrew. Helped you get a job, gave you a house to live in and kept a watchful eye on you. I waited for you to come around. There’s always time with you Andrew. I hoped that you would understand, help us where medicine could not, help keep the family pledge to fix this.”
“Incredible.” Was all Andrew could say in response. His eyes were now fixed on the deck.
“But you stand, with her, against me. I’m the closest thing you’ve ever had to a father and you treat me with contempt.”
Andrew slowly raised his gaze. “You’ve never been my father. You will never be my father. My real father may have been a great many things but he was not a murderer. You killed my mother. You killed her so that you could use me as your guinea pig.” Andrew took a step towards James. The rage surging through him had balled his fists tightly by his sides.
