Raven, page 26
‘That woman was more like family to me than you ever was! You’ve never had any time for me.’
‘That’s because you’ve always been trouble, Charlotte Mipple.’
‘I’m not a Mipple. I’m a married woman.’
‘Is that right? So how come you’ve left your sick husband to come down here with a bleedin’ gun in your handbag? Eh? You should be at home taking care of him. Not here, acting like some sort of gangster. Like I said, Georgina had too much influence on you. And think on, girl. Where did it get her, eh? Dead! That’s where. Pushing up daisies. Ain’t you learned nuffink?
‘Shut up, Mum,’ Charlotte snapped.
‘Don’t you tell me to shut up, you cheeky mare. I ain’t finished. Let me tell you, what goes around, comes around. And you’re heading down the same path as Georgina. You ain’t a gangster, Charlotte. You don’t come from that world. You’re just a silly little girl who finks she’s something that she ain’t! It’s time you grew up and started acting like a properly married woman.’
Charlotte couldn’t contain her anger and shouted back at her mother, ‘Leave Tim out of this. You don’t know anything about our lives!’
‘I know that’s he’s been left with brain damage because of you.’
‘Because of me?’
‘Yes, because of you! You and that Georgina Garrett. The pair of you living in that murky world of criminals. What happened to Tim was atrocious but can’t you see that things like that don’t happen in normal life? You dragged him into your world and now look at the poor bloke. Like I said, Charlotte, you’ve always been trouble. You was trouble as a kid and you’ve only got worse.’
‘Don’t talk to me about being a kid,’ Charlotte snapped bitterly. ‘I can’t remember much about my childhood but I know I was hungry all the time. And cold. You had to sit and beg on the streets to put a measly bit of food in our stomachs. Georgina dragged us out of poverty, and it’s thanks to her that you’ve now got this big house. The woman had the balls to stand up and do something about our pitiful lives. I dread to think what would have become of us if she hadn’t, ’cos I know you wouldn’t have bothered to do anything to drag us out of the mire. You would have let life beat up all of us, just like you used to let Dad beat you up. So don’t lecture me, Mother. You’re pathetic.’
Molly pushed her seat back with enough force that it fell backwards. ‘That’s enough,’ she cried. ‘Stop it, the pair of you!’
‘But she—’
‘I said, enough!’ Molly snapped. ‘I don’t need this right now.’
Charlotte felt awful when Molly began sobbing again, yet she couldn’t bring herself to apologise to her mum. She’d meant every word she’d said. Not that her derogatory remarks appeared to upset her mother. Molly was right, though. This wasn’t the time to be fighting amongst themselves. Molly was clearly afraid of Edward, and if he really was dangerous, despite what her mother said, she might well need her gun to protect her family.
*
Edward slinked away from behind the shed and made his way back to the oak tree. A coward. His aunt had called him a coward but she had no idea of how wrong she was. In school, he’d proven that he was no coward. It had been his second week there when the older boys in his dormitory, the ones who were supposed to look after the younger ones, had ambushed him in the middle of the night. He’d woken to find a pillowcase shoved over his head and what felt like many hands holding him down. He’d been warned not to scream or cry for help or they’d force cleaning fluid down his throat. Several punches to the ribs had supported their threat.
Then they’d dragged him from his bed and into the toilets where he was subject to the customary practice of having his head forced down the loo. But they hadn’t stopped there. He’d been stripped naked, tied to the pipes under the sinks and then the bullies had urinated over him. They left then, leaving him on the cold tiles, wet and battered for the rest of the night. For the next few days, he’d kept his head down and ignored their taunting laughter, along with their jibes of calling him a ‘weirdo’ or a ‘freak.’
However, once Edward regained his strength, he’d shown them that he wasn’t a boy to be messed with. After setting alight their smoking shed, he’d stood outside smirking as they’d screamed for help. A teacher had heard their cries and unlocked the door to let them out. The boys had been blamed for starting the fire, but how the door had been locked remained a mystery. He’d made sure that the boys suspected him, and he was never again bullied. He’d shown that he was no coward and would retaliate if anyone tried to cross him. Even if that meant playing dirty.
He glanced over to the barn that he’d also once set alight. He’d got the idea from his mother’s notes about his father, Billy Wilcox. She’d written in great detail about Billy razing the Maids of Battersea gymnasium to the ground with Georgina, and a prostitute called Hilda, inside. Georgina had escaped, just as Oppo had from the barn, but Hilda had burned to death. Edward tried to imagine what that would have looked like. Her skin, blistering and melting. He wondered if her flesh would have fallen off her bones, just like the cooked meat off a roasted leg of lamb. He thought about what she would have smelled like as she’d burned, pork, maybe?
His mother hadn’t said whether Billy had stayed to watch the fire, but Edward assumed that he had. Just as he’d watched the flames roaring out of barn roof. He’d also watched the smoke billowing from under the door of the boys’ smoking shed. There was a fascination about fire that drew Edward in.
He took his eyes from the barn and gazed at the house, picturing it on fire. The intense heat cracking the windows. The orange glow of the beast would consume everything in its path. The curtains, the rugs, the sofas, Stephen, all burning. Edward blinked hard and rid his head of the images. His mother might burn and he didn’t want that. He couldn’t abide the thought of her in physical pain. But her mind, well, that was different. The woman had rejected him and chosen to lavish her affections on a boy who wasn’t her own by blood. That abandonment had cut deep and had been painful for Edward to accept. He doubted that she’d ever understand how she’d made him feel when he’d been sent away to the school. But maybe if his mother lost something that she loved, perhaps then she’d know how much her act had hurt him. If everyone who she cared for was taken away from her, only then would she understand his pain.
27
Oppo came home early and was fuming when he walked in to find Molly so upset. ‘That’s it. I’ve had enough of this. I’m not having him terrorising you. I’m going to report him to the police,’ he ranted.
‘No, Oppo, please, you can’t. Edward is my son.’
‘I don’t care. Son or not, he broke in and sneaked around like a bloody thief.’
‘The police won’t do anything. This is Edward’s home too and he didn’t break in. He had a key.’
Charlotte snuck out of the kitchen and left them to argue it out between themselves. She thought Molly was probably right in what she’d said – the police wouldn’t be interested as Edward hadn’t broken any laws.
The telephone rang, startling Charlotte. She realised just how much she was living on her nerves. When she picked up the receiver, she was pleasantly surprised to hear Johnny’s voice on the other end of the line.
‘Tim told me where you are. You should have said – I would have gone with you.’
‘It’s all right, thanks, Johnny. We’re managing. How’s Tim?’
‘He’s fine. Missing you but fine. Has Edward showed up there?’
‘Yes. We ain’t seen him but he’s been in the house.’
‘Right, that’s it. I’m coming down.’
‘No, Johnny, there’s no need.’
‘There’s every bloody need! I’ll be there in a few hours.’
Before Charlotte could protest, the line went dead.
‘Who was that?’ Molly asked, standing in the kitchen doorway.
‘Johnny Dymond. He’s on his way.’
‘Great. Mum’s gonna be thrilled to have him here, another person in the house with a gun,’ Molly said sarcastically.
‘Would you rather we just left you to it deal with Edward yourself?’
‘No. I’m sorry. And I’m grateful, I am. But I’m worried that Edward is gonna get seriously hurt.’
‘I’m more worried that one of you is going to get hurt. Or worse. Do you realise how serious this situation is?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I know that Edward ain’t right in the head. That’s why I sent him away in the first place. But if he wanted to hurt one of us, he had the perfect opportunity when he was in here last night. But he didn’t, did he?’
‘Wake up, Molly! You don’t really believe that he’s just hiding somewhere so that he can go for a walk through the house every night, do you?’
Molly hung her head. ‘I suppose not. But I want to believe that he wouldn’t do us any harm.’
‘I know you do, but you’ve got to face up to the reality. He turned down every photograph of Stephen and ripped his painting from the wall. I reckon that there’s a lot worse to come.’
‘You’re right, I know you are. And I’m so scared. But I don’t want my son gunned down like his father was.’
‘Let’s hope it don’t come to that. I promise you, Molly, neither me nor Johnny will fire a bullet at Edward unless there is absolutely no other choice.’
‘Please don’t even talk about it, Charlotte. I can’t stand to hear the words bullet and Edward in the same sentence.’
Oppo stomped past.
‘Where are you going?’ Molly asked, her voice desperate.
‘Back to work. There’s no point me hanging around here. You’ve got your sister with you.’
‘Please, Oppo, stay at home. What if something happens to you in the fields?’
Oppo, almost out of the front door, turned around and replied angrily, ‘I refuse to be intimidated by a child.’
‘But Billy was only a few years older than what Edward is now when he killed his father!’
Oppo slammed the door closed behind him.
‘You can’t blame him, Molly.’
‘I’m going for a lie-down. Me head is thumping and I’m so tired. Give me a shout when Johnny arrives.’
Charlotte idled away a few hours in the kitchen while she waited for Johnny. She hoped that Molly was getting some rest but doubted that she would be. She thought her sister was probably tossing and turning, worrying herself silly.
*
When Johnny’s car pulled up at front of the house, Charlotte was pleased to see him swagger towards her.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she said.
‘Sounds to me like Edward is a loose cannon. I couldn’t leave you alone to face a mini Billy Wilcox.’
‘Thanks, but we’ve got to do everything we can to sort him out without hurting him. I don’t want my sister left heartbroken.’
‘So how do you want to deal with him?’
‘I don’t know, Johnny. I wish there was an easy answer but there isn’t one.’
Charlotte made Johnny a cup of tea and cut him a slice of meat pie before going up to wake Molly. As she’d expected, her sister hadn’t slept and Charlotte saw that her pillow was wet with tears. Gently she said, ‘Johnny’s downstairs.’
The late afternoon passed into night. Everyone was fraught but Charlotte persuaded them all to go to bed, suggesting that Stephen should go in with Molly and Oppo.
Johnny sat on the stairs with Charlotte.
‘Do you want to get your head down for a few hours and then we can swap?’ he whispered.
‘You can if you want to but there’s no point in me even trying to get any kip.’
‘Nah, I’ll sit with you.’
‘There’s no need. You might as well get into Stephen’s bed and get some rest. I’ll give you a shout if I hear anything.’
‘Are you sure?’ Johnny asked.
Charlotte nodded. She’d rather have Johnny rested and raring to go rather than him being knackered and sluggish.
At least an hour passed. Charlotte pricked her ears, listening for every sound, but so far only the geese had made a bit of a racket. From her position on the stairs she could hear that Johnny was snoring softly and she found the rhythmic noise relaxing. Her eyelids began to feel heavy, so fighting against sleep, she tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water. After filling the glass and drinking half the contents, she pulled open a cupboard and grabbed the biscuit tin, hoping that eating something would keep her alert. Three biscuits later and with the glass of water finished; Charlotte needed to use the toilet. Not wanting to disturb anyone, especially as their sleep was bound to be light and restless, she was careful not to pull the chain.
She resumed her position on the stairs, about halfway up, alert again now. The geese had settled down. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. In fact, Charlotte realised that she could no longer hear Johnny snoring. She pulled her pistol from her pocket and ran up to the bedroom. The door was ajar. When she slung it open, her heart leapt into her mouth. In the soft moonlight that shone into the room, she saw that Edward was standing over Johnny with a knife to his throat.
‘You don’t want to do that, Edward,’ Charlotte said, trying to keep her voice steady. Her gun was aimed directly at his head and he was only a few feet away from her. She could easily shoot him down before he had a chance to slit Johnny’s throat.
‘He’s in my bed,’ Edward snarled, undeterred as he looked down the barrel of her pistol.
‘Yes, he is. But you know Johnny. Johnny Dymond.’
*
Edward knew exactly who Johnny was. He’d met him several times when he’d been a kid. And he’d read in his mother’s diary that Johnny had worked for his father as part of the Wilcox gang. Yet before Edward had time to consider his next move, he felt a tight grip around his wrist.
Johnny had grabbed him and pulled a large handgun from under the bed covers, which he pushed against the underside of Edward’s chin.
‘What you playing at, kid? Drop the fucking knife.’
Edward heard the gun cock and knew he didn’t stand a chance. He opened his hand and the knife fell to the floor.
‘Smart move,’ Johnny growled.
A cool breeze from the open bedroom window wafted the curtain and the fresh air swept across Edward’s face. ‘I wasn’t going to cut his throat,’ he told Charlotte. The words weren’t said in defence. They were simply a fact.
‘If you’d found Stephen in this bed, would you have cut his?’
‘Probably.’
The door opened wider and Edward smiled when he saw his beautiful mother stood there.
‘Take. Your. Guns. Off. My. Child,’ she slowly demanded in a quiet, low voice.
‘That’s not a good idea,’ Charlotte argued.
‘I said, take your guns off him!’
It pleased Edward to hear his mother shouting in his defence.
Charlotte lowered her gun but Edward could still feel the metal of Johnny’s gun pushed against his skin.
‘He would have killed Stephen,’ Johnny explained.
‘But he didn’t. So take your gun off my son.’
Johnny slowly pulled his gun away and tutted. ‘Any man who holds a knife to my throat would normally have his brains blown out by now. You’re a lucky boy, Edward Wilcox, but don’t push your luck with me.’
Edward didn’t acknowledge Johnny and went to step towards his mother with outstretched arms. But Charlotte lifted her gun back towards him.
‘No you don’t. You stay exactly where you are,’ she warned.
Edward stopped and waited for his mother to reprimand Charlotte, but she said nothing. She cast her eyes down to the floor. But then she lifted her face and looked at him with disgust, in the same way as she had when she’d caught him feeding Stephen the sleeping pills.
‘That knife… is it yours?’ she asked.
Before Edward could answer, Charlotte said, ‘Yes. He was holding it at Johnny’s throat but it was meant for Stephen.’
‘So it’s true. You were going to murder your brother?’
‘He’s not my brother.’
‘Are you that jealous of Stephen that you’d kill him?’
‘Jealous,’ Edward said incredulously. ‘I’m not jealous of him.’
‘So why do you want to kill him?’
Edward shrugged. His mother wouldn’t understand. None of them would. Even Edward hadn’t understood himself for a long time. It was only when he’d been in school and he’d learned about Darwin’s theory of natural selection and Herbert Spencer’s survival of the fittest. It was then that everything had fallen into place for Edward. His world had suddenly made sense. All his instincts and the violent urges he’d had, it was because of biology. He had inherited his father’s blood and Stephen had to die as he was the weak one. Edward, on the other hand, was the fittest and had his father’s strengths.
Yet he knew his mother, Charlotte and Johnny would never grasp the idea and would think that he was mad.
‘What do you want us to do with him?’ Johnny asked.
Edward gazed at his mother with pleading eyes, hoping that this time, she would choose him over Stephen and not send him away again. But when she looked again at the knife on the floor, he already knew what she would say.
‘Get him out of here.’
His mother’s words felt like a stab in his heart. Once again, he’d been rejected. But he loved his mother and fought to find an excuse for her behaviour. He knew that she had hated Billy Wilcox, so maybe, as Billy’s offspring, she couldn’t bring herself to love him. Edward understood and forgave her. ‘Mum,’ he whispered, but she turned and walked away.
*
Charlotte and Johnny marched Edward down the stairs and out into the cool night air.
‘What the fuck are we gonna do with him now?’ Johnny asked.
‘Take him to the barn.’
‘And then what?’
‘You’ll see.’
