Journey's End (25 page)

Taking hold of her hands he pushed her away. ‘Your offer is real tempting and I dare say I’ll take you up on it later. But right now, believe it or not, all I want is a long cold drink.’

‘A drink it is then.’ Surprised and disappointed, she led the way inside to the bar. ‘You still haven’t told me where you’ve been all this time.’

‘I’ve been away at sea. That’s all you need to know.’ The fewer people who knew where he’d been the better, he thought cagily.

‘Hmh! I might believe that, but my Patsy wouldn’t.’

Her remark made him curious. ‘“My Patsy”, is it? So, you two get on all right, do you – even after she made it her goal in life to split us up?’

‘She looks after me. She always has.’

‘Bosses you about, more like!’
But Patsy was a stupid cow who didn’t deserve a minute more of his time. ‘Stop the gabbing, Liz, and get me a drink, will you?’

Hoisting himself onto the stool, Trent watched her moving about behind the bar. ‘I’m in no mood for questions, so leave it be, because I’m back now and raring to go,’ he said. ‘First a few pints, then a hot bath, and after that I wouldn’t mind wrapping my arms … and
legs … round a warm female. If you know what I mean.’

He winked meaningfully. ‘You don’t happen to know of a sexy woman who might be looking for a randy fella to keep her occupied, do you?’

‘I expect that has to be me,’ she laughed. ‘No one else would want a ruffian like you.’ Taking down a pint glass from above the bar, she slid it under the beer tap, to release a torrent of froth and ale.
‘One pint coming up.’

Making his mouth water, she leaned forward, just far enough for him to see the rise of her voluptuous breasts inside the open neck of her shirt.

She slid the pint of beer towards him, pointing to the crooked bend in her elbow. ‘That’s thanks to you,’ she said, not smiling this time.

‘What d’you mean?’

‘That day when you ran for it – remember you and Dad got into a terrible
fight? I tried to stop you, and got a broken arm for my trouble.’

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘That’s because you didn’t stop to find out. But I’m not blaming you. All’s fair in love and war, isn’t that what they say?’

Edward Trent recalled the fight in detail; him and her father, and that witch of a sister who started it all by opening her big mouth. He pushed it to the back of his mind, preferring
instead to remember the fun he’d had while he and Lizzie were on the rampage. ‘We had a good time though, didn’t we, you and me?’

‘The best!’

‘After all the disappointments you’ve had with lesser men than me, I hope you haven’t forgotten how to please a fella.’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out,’ she murmured coyly.

When other drinkers started arriving, Trent retired to the corner
table. ‘Keep the pints coming,’ he told her. And she told him he’d be no good to her with Brewer’s Droop.

‘You’ve no need to worry on that score,’ he promised. ‘I have been known to cover three women in one night of non-stop boozing.’

‘That I’d like to see.’

‘Well, you won’t, because I’ve got eyes only for you,’ he lied.

‘That’s all I need to hear,’ and she told him how she couldn’t wait to
have him all to herself.

In fact, after the bar was closed and he had downed some five pints, Trent was not even halfway drunk. He waited for the bar to close, and he watched while Lizzie helped the portly barman shut up shop, and afterwards he walked her to Dock Lane and took her inside. ‘You’ve been teasing me all night,’ he said hoarsely, ‘so now let’s see what you’ve really got.’

No sooner
were they in the door than he was tearing at her clothes. ‘Hey! Watch the new blouse!’ Pushing him off, she made him wait while she peeled off the blouse and the skirt, and then her frilly undergarments one after the other, each strip more tantalising than the last.

‘My God!’ It had been too long since he’d seen a woman stripped to the bone. ‘I could eat you,’ he growled. ‘Every last ounce of
you.’

She laughed nervously. ‘Then there’d be nothing left for you to love.’

And love her he did, wild and wanton, with the appetite of a man condemned. In the first hour he took her once on the floor and twice in the bed, and then again when he woke from a slightly drunken stupor.

‘Ssh! Who’s that?’ On hearing a noise downstairs, he sat up to listen. ‘I could swear I heard a door go … listen!’
There was another clatter, followed by a mouthful of abuse.

Fearful, Lizzie leaped out of bed. Throwing him a dressing-gown, she hissed instructions. ‘Get in the back room – quick, dammit!’

He hesitated. ‘Who is it? What’s wrong?’

‘It’s Patsy. She has a key. Sometimes she calls round on her way home from the club. She’s a cloakroom attendant in a nightclub – works evenings and weekends.’

He couldn’t believe his ears. ‘What! You mean to tell me that big-mouth sister of yours is downstairs right now? Gawd Almighty, woman, what the devil are you playing at?’

She began to panic. ‘Quick! It’s best if she doesn’t catch us together.’ While she talked she quickly dressed. ‘You know how she feels about you. She’s never forgotten how you used me.’

Suddenly the door burst open and there
she was, a wizened figure with small sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. ‘What’s all this?’ From the slur in her voice it was obvious she was the worse for drink.

Her quick eyes went to Trent, who made no move; instead he stared back defiantly. ‘Hello, Patsy, my love,’ he growled. ‘I’d like to say you’ve aged well, but you haven’t – not like your baby sister here. You see, I’ve just been admiring
her figure – plumper than the last time I saw her, though a pleasant handful all the same. More filled out and soft to the touch,’ he gave a nauseating wink, ‘if you know what I mean?’

For what seemed an age she looked at him, eyes widening as she began to recognise who he was. ‘Edward Trent … the baby-snatcher!’ The blood drained from her face. ‘You bastard! What are
you
doing here?’

Smiling
and arrogant, he pointed to their half-naked bodies, ‘I should have thought that was obvious.’

Taking him by surprise, she launched herself at him. ‘Get out of here! Go on, get out of here now, you no-good filth.’ Drawing blood, her nails caught him across the cheekbones. ‘It was your fault we lost our dad. You worried him sick with the way you carried on – bedding a girl half your age and laughing
in his face when he begged you to leave her alone. And as if that wasn’t enough, you beat him half to death before you ran off like the coward you are. Go on! Get away from her, you dirty bastard! She doesn’t need your sort.’

‘You’re drunk as usual.’ Lizzie took hold of her. ‘Leave him alone! I want him here – I invited him.’ Lizzie tried to pull her away but she was no match for her sister’s
bull-like strength.

Suddenly it was uproar, with Patsy hellbent on gouging out his eyes, and Trent fighting to get his clothes back on.

‘What the devil’s going on in there?’ From downstairs the front door rattled under a barrage of thumps. ‘I’m calling the police! D’you hear me up there? If the noise doesn’t stop right now, I’m fetching the bizzies!’

Fearing the police more than anything else,
Trent threw Patsy off. ‘I’ll be back,’ he told Lizzie. ‘I promise I’ll be back.’ No drunken slag was running his life, that was for sure.

Outside, he airily told the neighbours who had gathered there, ‘It was a row that got out of hand. No need for the police to get involved.’ With that, he sauntered off, leaving them nattering amongst themselves. ‘Nosy rats!’ he muttered angrily. But his anger
became uncontrolled rage when he thought of what Patsy had said … called him ‘filth’. Nobody did that to him, let alone a woman.

Fingering the scratches on his face, he licked the blood from his finger. ‘Want to kill me, do you?’ he smiled. ‘Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Patsy my love, but you will never see the day.’

At the end of the street he waited until the neighbours had gone back
to their holes, then retraced his steps as far as the shop doorway, where he slid inside and stayed hidden in the shadows for what seemed hours. He grew cold and began to shiver, but his determination kept his angry blood warm.

It was two hours later when she came out; he heard her loud, aggressive voice: ‘You’re not to let him through that door, d’you hear me? He’s no good and never will be.
If you ask me, he’s spent the last twenty years in prison. Pity they didn’t hang the no-good layabout! If he comes back, I’ll do for him, and then it won’t matter any more, because he’ll be out of your life for good and all.’

Then she lowered her voice and it was all he could do to hear her. He shifted closer, cringing as she issued instructions.

‘Remember how he treated you last time. For pity’s
sake, our kid, stay away from him. Think what he did – beat our dad senseless, broke your arm, and left not an inch of flesh on your bones that wasn’t bruised or bleeding.’

Her voice shook with rage. ‘He’d better not come back, that’s all I’m saying, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

As she came up the street it was easy to see from her unsteady gait that she had consumed even more
booze while under her sister’s roof.

When she passed within inches of him, Trent pressed back into the darkness. He saw her mean profile and the hard set of her mouth. Her shoulders were stooped as though she carried the weight of the world on them, and he hated her with every fibre of his being.

A few minutes later, she was almost run over when a lone taxi driver had to slam on his brakes in
order to avoid her swaying figure. ‘You silly mare! I nearly ran into you! Stay on the path, why don’t you!’ He went away, shaking his fist out the window, while she made a rude gesture and told him to, ‘Sod off, you useless git!’

All fired up, Trent followed, keeping enough distance between them so she was not able to detect his presence.

As they neared the river, the street-lamps became further
apart and the streets grew darker, until now they were so close to the water he could reach down and touch it. The walkways were deserted at this time of night, which suited his plan.

When they descended towards the railings, he got so excited he let his concentration lapse and didn’t take enough care where he was walking; the loose stone bounced from under his foot and hit the side of the railings.
Startled, Patsy turned round, peering into the darkness. ‘Who’s there?’

He gave no reply. Instead he remained still as a statue, not daring to move, thankful for the shadows that were thrown in his direction from an isolated nearby street-light.

She stood quite still for a while, her small sharp eyes cutting through the night air, but not seeing him at all.

Muttering under her breath, she went
on.

At the end of the walkway, the railings broke where the steps led down. There she stumbled, leaning on the railings before spewing her heart out all down the steps.

Delighted, he took his opportunity.

As he dashed forward, she heard him and turned round, her face open with surprise. ‘You!’ Wiping the vomit from her mouth she demanded to know what he was doing, sneaking about in the middle
of the night. ‘If you think you can make me change my mind about you and my sister, you can think again,’ she slurred, ‘because if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll turn her against you. I won’t be satisfied until she hates you as much as I do!’

Her tirade ended in a gasp as he lunged at her with both arms outstretched. One vicious push and her unsteady legs couldn’t hold her.

As she went tumbling
down the stairs, her head hit the steps, dulling her senses and making her lose all sense of direction. When she ended up in the river, he laughed out loud. ‘Not so clever now, are you, eh? Met your match, haven’t you?’

He watched as she floundered in the murky waters, her head appearing then disappearing, her eyes staring at him in disbelief each time she surfaced. ‘Help!’ She found the strength
to scream out. ‘Somebody help me!’

He looked round. There was nothing to hand, save for a wooden bench nearby. When she wouldn’t stop screaming, he wrenched a plank of wood from the seat, waited until she surfaced again and threw it like a spear at her head. There was a muffled thud, a frantic splashing of hands, then silence. Wonderful, calming silence.

He stared into the water, making sure.
But no! There was no sign of her at all. However, in the flickering light there appeared to be a patch of darker water on the surface. In the back of his mind he thought it might be her life’s blood. Serve her damned well right. The bitch had had it coming.

Christ, he had a headache! Trent took a deep breath, then, smiling to himself, and satisfied with a job well done, he walked away, a lazy,
swaggering walk.

As though he had all the time in the world.

Chapter 18

S
PRING IN
Boston, Massachusetts, could be chilly, but today the weather was so exceptionally cold that even the workmen kept stopping in their labours to rub their hands together in an effort to get the blood flowing.

‘I reckon all my toes have dropped off.’ Born in the far reaches of Scotland, and used to weather extremes, the truck-driver was frantically stamping his feet in order
to revive them. ‘How much longer before I can be away?’

‘Last panel coming down now.’

Having spent these many years working on the spread for Leonard Maitland, the burly foreman was accustomed to being outdoors in all weathers; summer, winter – it made no difference to him. If a job needed doing, it had to be done properly, and dismantling this huge grain-barn was just another task.

‘CLEAR
AWAY!’ When the cry went up, the workmen ran to safety while the mighty crane toppled the one remaining fifty-foot-high panel. The jaws of the crane wrenched the heavy timber from its roots and with the sound of creaks and groans, the timber lurched sideways before falling to the ground, broken and buckled as it dug itself into the soil.

It was then just a matter of sawing the pieces into smaller,
more manageable sizes, which were then hoisted onto the back of the truck to be taken away. ‘I’m not sorry to see the back of that.’ As the dismantled grain-barn was driven away, the foreman stood back to survey the damage. ‘I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen down before now.’