Lonely Girl (27 page)

‘Y
OU MUST BE
soft in the head!’

The well-muscled prisoner glowered at his timid cell-mate, who was cowering in the corner of the bunk opposite.

‘I heard you again, Stevens!’ He took a threatening step forward. ‘Last night you ruined my beauty sleep – and that’s every night since they put you in here. Whimpering like a new-born … mumbling and bawling, and chunnering on about how it wasn’t you who killed John Tanner, but his cheating wife.’

Folding his thick, muscled arms, he set a menacing stance. ‘You’re a damned fool, Stevens! Whatever possessed you to take the rap for what she did? Oh, yes, thanks to you talking in your sleep, I know the truth of it, and I reckon you must be out of your tiny mind. Oh, and if I was to let it be known what a soft idiot you are, the real men in this place would eat you for breakfast! As for your fancy piece, well now, she must be on cloud nine. I mean, thanks to you, she’s suddenly free as a bird. She can go where she likes, and with who she likes. But you’re such an idiot, you fell for it. By now you surely must see her for what she is, because if you don’t then all I can say is, you really must be gormless!’

‘I’m not gormless. We love each other. We always have.’

‘Aw, don’t give me that. Just take a minute to think about it. This woman who is supposed to love and want you, according to you and your nightmare rantings, she actually bashed her husband’s head in with a spade, then she let you take the rap for it. Well, all I can say is, she must have you eating out of her hand. For my money, you’re a gullible fool! And you deserve every punishment that comes to you.’

‘But it wasn’t like that.’

‘Oh, really? So, what was it like then?’

Tom shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I’m not handsome or tall and strong, and I have no belief in myself. It’s a fact that men like me don’t find it easy to pick up a woman. But I know Molly will wait for me, however long it takes. She loves me, I know she does, and I’ll do anything to keep it that way.’

‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for!’ Deep down the tough old lag had a sneaking admiration for this little man who was about to lose his freedom because of his blind love for this woman who could twist him round her little finger. ‘Tell me something, Stevens.’

‘What?’

‘OK … well, from your moanings and chattering in your sleep, I already know what you’ve done, and I can see it’s haunting you. You’re afraid you might lose her, but you’re also afraid of what might happen when the case comes up … which is any day now. You love her, I can tell, but I’d like you to tell me, matey, where is she, this woman who adores you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m thinking what you should be thinking. How many letters have you received from her?’

Angry and embarrassed, Tom gave no reply.

‘Right then! So, even though she’s allowed to visit, how many times has she applied for a visiting permit? How many times has she sat opposite that screen and talked with you … made you feel loved and wanted? How many times has she shown any regret for what happened to her good husband? Since you’ve been in here, has she had any communication with you at all? Has she told you she’ll wait for you, however long it takes? Or reassured you as to how much she loves you?’

Tom had asked himself those very same questions many times since being locked up, but he was not about to give the other man more ammunition to torment him with so, reluctantly, he defended Molly. ‘She has a lot to do at home. Since …’ he paused, before going on in a quiet voice, ‘… she has a farm to run. There are umpteen things to do, and there are four labourers who depend on the farm for their livelihoods. She also has a grieving daughter who I understand is not yet sixteen. The poor girl must be devastated about her father. Surely you must understand that she needs her mother at a time like this.’

‘I do understand, Stevens! I also have a daughter in her early teens. But that doesn’t mean to say your woman can’t find a moment in her life to think about you, or to take the time to see you, or even to write a short note.’

Tom’s cell-mate, an habitual offender, didn’t see Tom as a fool or a bad man. Instead, he saw him as being dangerously naïve, and kindly. All that aside, he would not want any man to be caught up in the clutches of such a woman as this Molly Tanner, who was hard-hearted and wicked enough not only to swing that spade and kill her husband outright, but also to allow the man who misguidedly loved her to take the blame for the murder she had committed.

‘Tell me, Stevens, since you’ve been locked up in this place, how many times have you really wondered about her? This woman, Molly Tanner – the woman you foolishly put your life on the line for – appears not to have given you a second thought.’

At that moment, the warning bell rang out for the cell doors to be opened.

As the two men duly walked out onto the landing, the big man leaned forward towards Tom, addressing him in a quiet voice. ‘You might be wise to think about this,’ he advised. ‘If a woman could callously smash her husband’s head in, what else would she do in order to live her life the way she wants, with who she wants? And it seems to me that is obviously not you, being as you have foolishly put yourself in a position where you won’t see freedom for many years.’

He leaned closer. ‘Come on, man! Use your head! For my money, Molly Tanner doesn’t give a damn about you. Instead, she’s playing you for all you’re worth.’

As the day wore on, Tom thought about what his cell-mate had said. He recalled a few sneaking moments of doubt. He had neither heard from Molly nor seen her, and he felt terribly lonely. With all the worry about the court case coming up it had been difficult even to think straight. But now he was made to wonder about Molly’s sincerity.

Since confessing that it was he who had swung the fatal blow, he had been made increasingly anxious by Molly’s complete silence.

Now, because of what his cell-mate had pointed out, Tom was wondering why Molly had effectively deserted him. But in his deepest heart, he knew the truth, though he was loath to believe what was staring him in the face.

In his dreams, he could still see Molly, with the spade in her fists, and it haunted him.

Asleep or wide awake, in his tortured mind he saw the gleam of raw hatred in her face as she forcefully and deliberately swung the spade at her husband’s head.

Of late he had been wondering about that. There had been no real need for her to lash out with such force as she delivered that fatal blow. Haunting his waking and sleeping hours was the thought that a lesser blow to the leg might well have effectively disabled John Tanner, at least long enough for Tom to get out from under her husband’s onslaught.

He had reluctantly come to believe that Molly Tanner may actually have intended all along to kill her husband … and that the fight presented her with the opportunity.

Whatever her intentions, Tom acknowledged, that good and dedicated family man did not deserve to die in such a brutal manner.

F
ROM THE DAY
Thomas Stevens was arrested, the newspapers had closely followed the explosive story of John Tanner, who, after discovering his wife and her lover together in a compromising situation, had been killed in a fierce and bloody fight between the two men.

Thomas Stevens had confessed straight away that he had accidentally killed John Tanner, while in fear for his own life.

After some weeks of police investigation, however, and with statements from family members and other crucial evidence, both Stevens and Molly Tanner were tried and sentenced. The newsmen were in court to report the finale to the trial.

Barn Murder – The Verdict

Thomas Stevens was yesterday given three years for attempting to pervert the course of justice in consistently claiming that he was single- handedly responsible for the death of farmer John Tanner.

Under intense cross-examination, he admitted everything: how he had followed the instructions, of Molly Tanner, the victim’s wife, to wipe her fingerprints off the murder weapon, a spade, which he did to the best of his ability, using an oily rag he found in the barn.

For this, he was given another five years in custody, bringing his sentence to a total of eight years.

It was discovered under close examination of the murder weapon that there remained a number of Mrs Tanner’s fingerprints on the shaft of the spade. This was sufficient evidence to charge Molly Tanner, and following her lawyer’s advice she confessed to her part in John Tanner’s death.

Yesterday at the Crown Court she, too, was sentenced to twelve years in prison without remand.

She was also charged with attempting to pervert the course of justice, for which she was given a further sentence of three years’ imprisonment.

Mr and Mrs Tanner’s daughter, Rosemary, 15, remains in the care of relatives.

Molly might well have been give a harsher sentence, but her lawyer employed all his skills to persuade the jury that at the time of her lashing out with the spade, it was not his client’s intention to kill, but to stop the fight. She was convinced that her husband, a stronger, much bigger-built man, was about to kill Thomas Stevens, who at the time was calling out, trapped against the wall and in fear for his life.

When questioned as to her explanation, Thomas Stevens admitted that, yes, he had been afraid at that time, but he could not be certain that John Tanner meant to kill him.

‘A
LL RIGHT, ARE
you, Rosie?’

Kathleen had dreaded this day, although while they waited for John to be returned to them, at least that span of time after the court case and the somewhat intrusive follow-up in the newspapers had allowed them time to prepare themselves for the moment when John Tanner would be laid to his rest.

Now, with the winter sun shining down on her tearful face, Kathleen recognised her responsibilities, and she was ready to do what had to be done to close this painful chapter in their lives. John would forever be with them in spirit, she truly believed that.

‘I’m all right, Auntie Kathleen,’ Rosie assured her shakily. ‘Barney won’t leave me, though. He lay alongside the bed last night, whimpering and pawing at the sheet, so I let him come up on top of the eiderdown, was that all right?’

Kathleen glanced at that beloved family pet as he peered out warily from behind Rosie’s legs. ‘Yes, of course, Rosie. He must be grieving still … like the rest of us. But you must not let him sleep under the bedclothes with you because – as much as we love him – it would not be healthy.’

Rosie nodded.

Just then, Patrick came out, looking decidedly uncomfortable in his grey suit and navy-blue tie. ‘This darned thing nigh chokes me!’ he grumbled, tugging at the tie. ‘I’m not a lover of ties, never have been!’

Harry was right behind him. Not owning a suit, he had opted for a black jacket, a dark-blue tie and white shirt, with dark-blue trousers. ‘They don’t fit very well, but I’ve tightened the belt up, so do they look all right, Mum?’ He tugged at her shoulder. ‘Should I go and find something else to wear?’

Kathleen looked her son up and down, proud that he was such a handsome young man. ‘No. You look absolutely fine just as you are, and anyway, you don’t have anything else more suitable, do you?’

‘No. But I’m sure I could borrow something of Dad’s.’

Kathleen smiled at that. ‘No, Harry, you look perfectly respectable as you are. So, stop worrying.’

Growing anxious, she glanced back at the door. ‘Where’s Rosie gone? She was here a minute ago.’

Just then, Patrick informed them, ‘The cars are here. Can somebody fetch Rosie?’

Harry found her in the kitchen, sobbing helplessly. ‘I don’t want to go,’ she confessed. ‘I can’t bear the idea of seeing Daddy being lowered into a deep, black hole.’

‘He’s at peace now, Rosie. Like Mum said last night, he isn’t here any more, he’s gone to his Maker.’ He felt totally out of his depth. ‘And anyway, wouldn’t you rather have him in the churchyard where you can visit and remember him?’