Sunshine Spirit

by Barbara Willis

  Jane heard Will call the Halls that night and listened from the landing. It sounded to her as though he was checking up on them in case he shouldn't be able to again. Unsaid farewells could be heard in his words.

  Jane had rocked between conflicting thoughts ever since her meeting with Maria. At first she planned to tell Will everything, but then decided not to. He would be appalled. He should be appalled. But he wasn't faced with losing the one person he couldn't live without and Jane was; wouldn't he be torn if faced with the same impasse? Jane thought she could feel shreds being ripped from deep inside her chest.

  No, if she told Will he'd stop her. If she told Will he'd save her from murder. If she told Will, he'd make the decision. And he wouldn't make the decision to save his own life over another's.

  Time was ticking loudly in Jane's head, she could almost hear the hand of the clock moving each time it crept a fraction closer to the moment when Will was due to leave. The seconds ticked by as heavily as if Jane was part of the clock itself; a cog like Hugh had spoken of. But no matter what she did, she couldn't stop the movement, the pressing forward of time. Her cog wasn't the pivotal one Hugh had talked about, stirring all the others to action, but the tiny one that was dwarfed and surrounded and could do nothing but be forced to move when the others did.

  Tonight would be Hugh's third and last night with them; a decision must be made. If the choice she made was the one which, until a short time ago, wouldn't even have been in her head then she must act soon. That choice had a time limit.

  Jane slipped the bottle into her dress pocket before heading downstairs to make lunch. The atmosphere was lighter than previously and Jane wasn't sure whether the buoyant mood the men displayed was for her benefit, or whether it was their subconscious denial of what lay ahead.

  Jane watched Hugh as he stood outside the back door lighting a cigarette and strolling casually among the dead or dormant plants, beaten down by winter. She knew she didn't hate him, she didn't even dislike him; he was a good man doing what he thought right for his country, of this she was sure. But she was angry with him and it was anger like she'd never felt before. Unwittingly or not, he had led a good man into a dangerous and dark situation. That good man had chosen to continue with the plan that could mean his own demise. That good man had chosen to walk Hugh's path, fully aware of the risks, as he believed it led the right way.

  Jane, of course, was proud of Will's honour and bravery and his promise to finish what he started and to do what he felt was right. She was also incensed at his honour and bravery and desolate at the thought of his desertion; of forsaking their relationship, and possibly his life, for this.

  Even though her knowledge of Will's situation caused her immeasurable fear, somewhere inside she knew that Will's choice made him the man he was and the man she loved. This task had started as a means to help his dearest friend's family but it was now a matter of honour and of life or death; the life or death of others. It was a case of doing what was right for an untold number of people he didn't know and would never know. It was a choice that many others had also made and were still making.

  Jane felt shame at her own choice of Will over any one person, or indeed any number of people whose futures might depend on his and Hugh's actions.

  'Alright?' Familiar arms embraced her from behind and she jumped.

  'You scared me. Yes, I'm alright.'

  'How about we go for a nice long walk later?'

  'That would be lovely.' Jane turned round in Will's arms leaving sight and thought of Hugh behind her, just the glowing tip of a cigarette in the distance.

  Had the darkest shadow not been hanging over Jane, it would have been a beautiful day. After lunch, Jane and Will walked. They walked hand in hand for miles and talked and listened. Neither one of them mentioned the following day's plans and neither one of them wanted to. They ate their evening meal in a pub in the town and strolled back through the lanes in the darkness, giggling like children when Will tripped into a pothole and stopping to listen to the silence which still sounded odd to them after the noise of the bombs in London. They knew that if they stood outside during the night they'd be able to hear the unmistakable rumbling of fighter planes above and then in the distance the bellowing thunder of a city under attack.

  As the pair reached the kitchen door, they were surprised to see it ajar and looked at each other to convey a hundred words in an instant. Will gently pushed Jane behind him and stepped silently inside. He picked up the bread knife which lay on the draining board and still made no sound as he crossed the room, one hand holding Jane behind him. He turned enough to whisper, 'Stay here, don't move,' through Jane's hair, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, as he quietly padded along the hall. Jane held her breath, her eyes darting round in the dim light of the hall lamp; she didn't know what she was looking for. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and she could hear her own breathing, thinking it must sound as loud as thunder.

  Jane ignored the instruction to stay put and started to follow Will as he entered the living room; before she'd even taken two steps the house was completely in darkness; whatever light had been on had been extinguished. In that same moment, there was movement, a scuffle, and running feet came towards her; someone grabbed her but her scream was stifled by a large hand and the owner growled 'Under the stairs Jane; take this,' and pushed her up against the staircase. The door at her back was opened and she was roughly pushed down and backwards by a hand on top of her head. 'Don't be afraid to use it,' the voice demanded. Then the door was shut and Jane was alone. She shook as she realised what she held, pressed onto her by her assailant. She dropped the gun to the floor and edged away from it further into the familiar lessening space of an under stairs cupboard.

  Jane was shaking with fear, unsure what was going on or where Will was or why the lights had gone out. Despite the low growl of his voice she knew that the man who'd forced her under the stairs as he armed her with a gun was Hugh; the weapon he'd shoved into her hand was surprisingly heavy and was now on the floor somewhere in front of her. She was in a place that scared her more than being exposed in the house. Hugh wouldn't know that the very place he pushed her for safety was the one place she couldn't stay. She felt around carefully and recoiled as she touched the edge of the gun. Surprisingly, she flinched more when her hands instinctively rose above her head and she felt the angular underside of a stair; it was a feature that had once been her salvation but which had since grown within her to mean enclosure, stale warmth, loneliness and burial.

  Jane, shaking, reluctantly picked up the weapon and pushed the door gently with her other hand. She knew the door was ajar but no light illuminated the opening. There were noises somewhere in the house, but it was difficult to tell where they were coming from. She pushed the door further and crouched lower as she edged through the gap, stopping just outside, almost on her knees. Although she couldn't see anything her eyes opened wider, pupils large, optimising her vision, absorbing all they could.

  The voices were upstairs, threatening low voices; or maybe they were in the dining room, Jane felt disoriented and wasn't sure. She couldn't make out any voices in particular; not Hugh's, not Will's. Trying to decide what to do, she stayed crouching by the stairs. The moment of reckoning for Hugh, and maybe Will, must have been forced; Jane looked down in the dark, not seeing but knowing what was in her hand as her fingers wrapped tighter around the cold metal. It was the second time that day that she held the means to death.

  Footsteps came into the hall and Jane's grip on the gun tightened as she slid it under her coat and into a deep pocket. Her heart beat so fast it almost buzzed. The lights came on and Jane blinked as her eyes focused on a man walking towards her. Sombre suit, smart appearance, short dark hair, benign facial expression.

  He held out a hand to help her up, which she did not take as she stood. They looked at each other.

  'Come with me.' He moved towards Jane, who stepped back as his fingers wrapped tightly around her upper arm an
d he led her firmly but not roughly into the living room. There she saw Will and Hugh and another man. Will was sitting in an armchair, perched awkwardly on the edge. Hugh also sat, but leaned back in his chair almost casually. His body language said relaxed but his features said guarded, calculating the situation. The third man, very tall and broad, stood with his back to the fire and facing the door. All three looked up as Jane and the other man entered.

  On her entry Will immediately stood and rushed to her side. 'Get your hand off of her,' he snarled slowly and the man released his grip. Will pushed his body between them and walked Jane to the chair he'd vacated. All eyes watched. When Jane was sitting, with Will standing guard at her side, the man at the fire spoke.

  'We don't have any issues with you Mr Batten, or your friend, although your similarity to Mr Callaghan has caused some confusion.' Jane heard an accent clouding his voice that she couldn't place, although it sounded predominantly English. 'Mr Callaghan here isn't what he seems.' Hugh puffed out a laugh, shaking his head. Jane looked at Will who watched Hugh, then they both turned to look at the man who spoke.

  'If we're not the problem, you can let Jane leave.' Jane's eyes shot to Will but before she could speak, the other man replied.

  'No need. We have some business to talk over with Mr Callaghan then the three of us will be off. You won't be bothered again.' He glanced down at his large wristwatch.

  'Hugh?' Will turned to Hugh who held up a palm in response.

  'It's alright Will, you and Jane will stay here. I'll be quite alright with these gentlemen.' Hugh smiled at Will, who wasn't moved to respond with a matching gloss.

  Jane's hand sought out Will's and he held it tight in reassurance. The man at the fire spoke again.

  'Jim here will keep you company while we go and have a little chat. Then us three'll be off.' Despite his almost breezy words, there was a menacing hostility underpinning everything he said. His insincerity was thinly veiled but he didn't seem to care, as his mouth smiled but his eyes remained dark and hard. He walked towards the door and beckoned Hugh to follow. As Hugh passed, his hand patted and then squeezed Will's shoulder. Will didn't recognise whether this was message, reassurance or farewell. He did know, however, that it was also an acceptance of fate.

  Hugh and the unnamed man left the room and closed the door. Jim didn't leave his spot by the door or say anything as they passed. Will still sat on the arm of the chair that Jane occupied and they looked at each other again. Will stood and walked towards babysitter Jim who visibly tensed.

  'I would say it was nice to see you again, but I'd be lying.' Will's sarcasm prompted the huff of a laugh from Jim.

  'Will?' Jane couldn't piece together the connection for a moment, then Will replied without turning.

  'Jim was with some of his friends last time we met, Jane. They left me with a few parting gifts.' Jane wanted to attack the man who stood opposite Will. Had she been close enough she'd have spat in his face.

  'So what's the story then Jim?'

  'You've been conned,' he said.

  Will laughed. 'I don't think so.'

  'Really? He's not what you think. You've been had.'

  As Will decided what to do or say next, loud voices could be heard. Hugh and the man were having a heated argument. Will turned back towards Jane and walked past her to the fireplace. He bent down in front of it.

  'What are you doing?' The man sounded suddenly nervous, possibly unsure whether he should check on his collaborator and Hugh whose voices provided a narration of their escalating confrontation.

  'Getting chilly. The fire needs stirring up.' Will took the poker and jabbed at the glowing embers then tossed a log onto the fire, temporarily quelling its power and heat. He didn't replace the iron poker in the stand, but stood very slowly. Jane felt an immediate nervous fear as Will turned and faced the man who fumbled with the door handle behind his back.

  Will had risen with intent, intimidating in his demeanour. Then in a fraction of a second he'd launched across the room and the two men slammed into each other.

  Jane could do nothing; she stood as soon as Will moved but could do nothing to help him as the men struggled with all the power they could muster. Will had at first overpowered Jim, then the battle turned as the poker was wrestled from Will's hand and fell to the floor; Will was on the floor and Jim above him as he fought to hold the grasping hands away. Everything moved too quickly as Jim's hand came up glinting, the blade of the bread knife threatening in his clenched fist. Jane saw fear in Will's eyes as he glimpsed the shiny object; she moved forward intuitively, adrenalin taking control of her movements just as it had the night Hugh had fought with Will in the driveway. In a flash of arms and a blur of movement, the poker was grabbed from the floor and brought down on the back of Jim's neck.

  Jim slumped on top of Will. The poker dropped from Will's hand and both men were still. The speed of Jane's adrenalin surge had been a fraction slower than the speed of a man fighting for his life. It was Will who'd delivered the blow. Will sighed deeply then rolled the stricken man from him and onto the floor. The man was still. Will leaned over him and touched his neck.

  'There's a pulse, but I don't know how long for; it doesn't seem very strong.' Will's eyes were pained, regretful.

  Jane's thoughts were knotted. 'They said it's Hugh that's bad, Will. What if he's the enemy, not them? Who do we believe?'

  The voices still argued and were getting louder, causing them both to look towards the door as Will stood and took Jane's hand. Together they quickly left the room.

  The next few minutes passed as a few seconds would. Jane would marvel afterwards at how time can move incredibly fast yet dreadfully slow at the same time.

  As they stood motionless and confused in the hallway the noise escalated. It was clear that Hugh and the other man were now fighting too; Will dashed towards the sounds now obviously coming from the dining room, but before Jane could follow all three men tumbled out into the hall. In a knot of fists and flailing bodies, Jane struggled to work out who was who and what was happening; the mass of men crashed and fought towards the kitchen. As they fell and tripped through the doorway a shot exploded into the ball of fighting men.

  Jane cried out and dashed forward, unsure who, if anyone, had been hurt.

  Will half stood and stumbled back towards her, bloodied. Jane tried to grab him, fearful of his injury, but he pushed her roughly behind him. Damaged by fighting, not gunfire, he shielded her.

  Hugh stood up, staggering slightly, leaving the body of the third man on the floor behind him. In Hugh's hand was a gun, a pistol; Jane's fingers instinctively fell upon on the matching item she harboured in her pocket. Hugh's gun was raised towards them and in an instant Jane's was raised towards him, a mirror image; but while his practised hand held firm, Jane's shook.

  As Will was in front of Jane he hadn't immediately noticed what she held; now he looked down to see the shaking hand at his side as she slowly edged out from behind him.

  'I'm so sorry Will, Jane, but more than one life depends on tonight. Many lives.' Hugh said. 'It wasn't meant to work out like this; we should have parted company as friends. Believe me, if there was any other way out I would grab it.' He aimed the gun. 'I'm sorry Will, I'm so sorry, but Hugh Callaghan has to die tonight.'

  'Shoot him,' came the struggling voice. The man behind Hugh raised himself enough from the floor to look at Jane as he spoke 'Do it,' he shouted which made her jump.

  'Jane, come on, you know me,' Hugh soothed as he stepped forward, one hand outstretched with an open palm and the other still training its weapon on Will. He almost cooed now, 'Come on, put down the gun.'

  'That's far enough Hugh,' Will warned and Hugh stopped. All Will could see was the gun getting closer to Jane, even though it was pointed at him. Will slowly edged away from Jane, hoping that the barrel of Hugh's gun would follow him.

  The prone and bleeding man behind Hugh spoke again, clearly struggling, half spitting. There was a horrible wet gurgling s
ound in the man's throat as he fought the damage inside him. 'You don't know him Jane. Believe me. Believe something other than what he tells you.' Jane's hand shook even more and she grasped her wrist with her free hand to steady it.

  Hugh stepped forward again, still aiming at Will.

  Still fearing his own proximity to Jane and the risk to her if Hugh fired, Will pushed Jane away and lunged towards Hugh in one smooth movement. Jane's gun discharged and she felt the force of the shot thump her hand and reverberate down her arm like an electric shock. Her arm vibrated so much it hurt.

  In that split second, no-one had known what was going on; Will's sudden action, a gunshot, a shout.

  The two men fell to the ground.

  Then silence.

  'Oh my God, oh my God,' Jane repeated over and over and over as she crawled across the floor towards the men. At the shot, she'd dropped the weapon from her hand and her knees to the floor. 'Will, Will, are you alright?' She touched his leg, his arm, and crawled further along towards his face which was turned away. 'Will.'

  He moved.

  'I'm ok. I'm ok.' He sounded as shocked as Jane and pulled himself slowly to his knees as they both looked down at Hugh. Will's fingers moved to Hugh's neck but in less than a heartbeat he turned to Jane and shook his head.

  'I killed a man Will. I shot a man.' Jane started sobbing. 'All these fights. All these struggles. Now I'm a murderer Will.'

  'No Jane, I don't think so,' Will said as his hands and eyes moved over the body. 'There's not a mark on him.' Hugh lay on his back and Will was right; there wasn't a mark or a spot of blood to be seen.