Bia's War (23 page)

“Good morning, Victoria.” Nana
was sitting up in bed, wrapped in her favourite pink bed jacket,
when Victoria entered the room. “Can you stay this morning or do
you have to work in the shop?”

“I can stay, Nana,” Victoria
answered. “Mam says I can stay with you all day again, so that
means I can let Mr Vine in this afternoon when he comes. Are you up
to telling me the rest of the story or will it be too painful for
you?”

“To be truthful, Victoria,” Nana
answered, “I’ll be glad to get it all off my chest. I’ve carried
memories about that night around with me for more than half a
century and the anger and the sadness have eaten away at me. I feel
refreshed that I can finally get it all out into the open. Just let
me finish this cup of tea and we’ll begin again.”

Victoria moved the tray with the
breakfast pots on it and settled herself into the comfy chair next
to Nana’s bed, eager to hear what happened next. Nana finished her
tea and then composed herself for the next instalment, eager to
tell it but wary of rushing in and missing out any vital parts.

“The pig butcher thought I’d
brought Peter and Sam with me to the warehouse so that I could use
them as muscle to overpower him. That had been the last thing on my
mind. They had come with me to help me, but as far as I was
concerned, I was the one who was going to dish out the retribution
that night. It never crossed Dennison’s mind that I was an enemy,
because he tarred all women with the same brush. To him, all women
were weak creatures who needed a man to get them through life and
he didn’t look at me as a source of danger. That was a daft thing
for him to do, particularly after the embarrassment he’d had when
he had fallen into our tin bath, but any tiny handle I could get on
the situation was a plus as far as I was concerned. He would
underestimate me at his own cost.”

“When he threatened to choke
William if Sam and Peter tried anything, both of them moved a step
away from the butcher and William, as though to give Dennison
breathing room. But I wasn’t stepping backwards, no matter what the
cost. He’d done his worst to me already; nothing else could come
close to the pain I felt through losing Simon. As far as my
involvement in the situation was concerned, the pig butcher had
already played his trump card and the thing about trump cards is
that you can only play them once. From now on, I had nothing left
to lose which meant I was ready, able and willing to play any trick
in the book to make Dennison pay for what he had done to my
son.”

“I didn’t want to let go of
Simon. What I wanted to do was to hold him close and just stop
breathing, so that I joined him in that very attractive state of
never having any feelings anymore, but I had to get my revenge
first, before I could join Simon in death. And in order to get my
revenge, I needed to be able to move about in the warehouse. With
tremendous sadness, I laid Simon gently down on the floor,
arranging his arms and legs so that he looked as though he was
sleeping peacefully, then I slowly rose to my feet.”

“‘Why did you do it?’ I asked.
‘Why did you kill my child? What have Simon or I ever done to you
that could justify you killing my son?’”

“I was surprised that I could
speak and that my voice didn’t waver at all. I didn’t speak loudly
but my voice was strong and steady and I drew strength from my
ability to be able to conceal what I was really feeling. The ice
daggers in my blood had all gathered in my heart and they crackled
every time my heart gave a beat, but because my heart was so cold,
the ice daggers couldn’t melt and I thought I would have them until
I died.”

“I waited without saying any
more. I waited for the pig butcher to tell me why he had killed my
baby, because I knew there was more to this than the butcher’s
anger at my turning down his advances. Even a madman didn’t kill
because he had been spurned. Dennison waited before he replied,
glancing from me to Sam and Peter and then down to William where he
lolled on the chair.”

“‘I think you need to ask your
husband why I killed your son, Mrs Drinkwater,’ he said, giving the
red cord a yank as though he wanted to encourage William to speak.
‘I’m sure he’ll be able to explain it all to you.’”

“I was thrown by this remark,
because it was the last thing I was expecting. I was so sure that
he had killed Simon and was threatening to kill William because of
something he had imagined I had done, that telling me that William
knew why he had done it threw me off kilter. I glanced across at
William, assuming that he would tell me what Dennison meant, but
William had his head hanging down and wouldn’t look at me. I looked
back at the pig butcher and saw that he was smiling to himself,
although there was precious little humour in that smile.”

“‘Come on, William.’ Dennison
snarled. ‘Your lady wife is waiting for an answer to her question.
She wants to know why I killed her little boy and you know why I
did it. I know you do. It’s only polite for you to answer the lady
and put her out of her misery.’”

“Dennison yanked on the red cord
again but, although he groaned as his airway was squeezed, William
still refused to say anything. I couldn’t stand the tension of
waiting in that dimly-lit room for William to speak, so I asked my
question again.

“‘Why did you kill my baby, Mr
Dennison?’ I said, my voice now emerging louder and even stronger
than before. ‘What reason can you possibly have had to justify
murdering my son?’”

“‘Don’t you get shirty with me,
Mrs High-and-Mighty.’ Dennison sneered. ‘Just because you think you
are too good for the likes of me, you’re in no position to demand
answers from me. I’ll decide what is and isn’t spoken about in
here, not you. Do you get that?’”

“I very nearly went for his
throat then, but I was aware that I didn’t have a weapon to use on
him and he was too physically strong for me to be able to do any
damage to him without one. But I could do what I had done before,
in my back yard when I had faced down the bully in him, so I moved
closer to him, never letting my eyes waver from his face and
displaying the magnitude of the disgust I felt for him. He couldn’t
move backwards through the table he was sitting on, but he very
definitely pulled away from me. To cover this moment of apparent
weakness, he decided that he would speak and answer my question,
although the sneering tone didn’t change.”

“‘He doesn’t want to tell you
himself, so it looks as though I’m going to have to do it for him.’
He jerked the cord again, so that William’s head rose and fell,
almost as though he was nodding agreement with Dennison’s words.
‘Has he ever told you how he lost his arm?’”

“Once again I was placed at a
disadvantage. I had no idea how William had lost his arm. I had
never asked him about it, partly because I didn’t want to make him
relive what would obviously be a painful memory and partly because
I had shut out of my mind anything to do with the war once William
had enlisted. William had never proffered the information himself
and the time for enquiring about it had passed.”

“But Dennison continued
speaking, so I had to put all feelings of being at a disadvantage
out of my mind and concentrate, because I didn’t know when the
opportunity would arise for me to wreak my revenge on the pig
butcher. I was still acutely aware that a weapon in the form of my
butchery knife was still out of my reach until I could get to the
cold store and grab it, so I had to have all of my faculties
working at full power so that I was ready to take any action that
was necessary. I didn’t want to miss any opportunity to strike
because I may only get the one.”

“Did your beloved husband tell
you that he was considered a real hero when he was over there in
France, fighting the Bosche? More importantly, did you believe him
when he told you what marvellous deeds he had accomplished over
there? Or did you think that these tales of derring-do didn’t ring
true coming from a little weasel of a man like him? What did he
tell you? Answer me, woman!”

“He was working himself up into
a real rage and I was sure that he would lose control altogether
when he reached a certain point. I toyed with the idea of pushing
him until all he could do was to lose control, but decided that it
would be impossible to foretell any reactions he may have if he was
tipped over the edge, so I answered his questions.”

“‘I’ve no idea what happened to
William when he was at the Front.’ I said, quietly but firmly. I
had no intention of letting him think I was frightened of him. ‘I
have never asked him how he lost his arm and he has never
volunteered that information, so if you think he has been telling
us tales of ‘derring-do’ as you put it, you are sadly
mistaken.’”

“‘Oh, Mrs Hoity-toity! You still
think you are better than me, don’t you?’ he snarled. ‘Well, I’m
going to educate you a bit about what your husband did while he was
away at the Front and then, mebbe, you won’t be quite so high and
mighty.’”

“I looked again at William when
Dennison spoke those words, but he still refused to lift his head
and look me in the eye. I had no idea where this was leading, apart
from the fact that it was obvious that William wasn’t going to come
out of it looking like a hero, so all I could do was play along
until a resolution to the situation presented itself to me. I
glanced over at Peter and Sammy who were still standing to one side
of the table, far enough away for Dennison to be comfortable that
they couldn’t jump on him. Sammy raised his eyes to mine and leant
forwards as though he was readying himself to spring on the pig
butcher. Almost imperceptibly, I shook my head at him and his
muscles relaxed and he eased himself back into a standing position.
Peter was staring at Dennison as though in a daze and I wondered
just how much of the situation his poor, sad mind had managed to
understand. I muttered a silent rapid prayer that he hadn’t
understood any of it, so that his ignorance would prevent him from
taking any action at all. His was too pure a soul for it to be
sullied by having any contact with the devil who was literally
pulling the strings at that moment. I knew Peter had a very strong
sense of what was right and what was wrong and I didn’t want him
deciding that what the butcher had done was wrong and reacting in
the only way he knew how, by attacking Dennison. It could take some
time before Peter worked it all out in his head and I hoped that
everything would be over and done with by the time his poor brain
caught up with what had happened.”

“I wanted to hear what the pig
butcher had to say before any action was taken against him and,
when action was called for, it was going to be me who took that
action, nobody else. When the scales were weighed on the Day of
Judgement, they were going to dip because I was sitting on them
with all my sins; no-one else was going to weigh them down.”

“‘Doesn’t look like your beloved
husband wants to tell anyone about his courage, does it?’ Dennison
went on. ‘Have you told anyone the truth of what happened to you or
are you quite happy to just let people think that you are a
hero?’”

“Dennison tugged on the red cord
again and this time William’s head lolled over towards him. He
still wouldn’t look up and he still wouldn’t speak at all, no
matter how much the pig butcher taunted him. I was heartily sick of
the man’s prevarication, because I wanted to understand exactly
what had happened, before I could concentrate on killing the pig
butcher.”

“‘Is anyone going to tell me
what all this is about?’ I asked. ‘If William doesn’t want to play
your mind games, why don’t you just get on with it and spit out
what you are so plainly desperate to reveal?’”

“‘All right.’ Dennison said. ‘If
he won’t tell you himself, then I’ll fill you in on the details.
Let’s set the scene, so we all know what happened where and who did
what to whom. I’m basing what I’m going to tell you on an eye
witness account, which was given to me two nights ago when I popped
into the Red Lion for a drink. In there, I met a young lad, a
soldier, who was home on leave from the army. He’d had a very bad
experience and, contrary to what the gossip tells us about the war,
his commanding officer had recommended some home leave for him, to
give him time to recover and rest before he went back to active
duty. Davy, his name is, Davy Wilson. I’ve known the lad for a long
time, because he used to play with my son Albert when they were
both children. His mother lives in Redcar Road, not far from my
shop and she brought him up well. He knows right from wrong and he
wouldn’t ever deliberately hurt anyone’”

“When Dennison mentioned the
lad’s name, we all saw William clench his hand as it rested on the
arm of the chair. It was obvious to us all that William recognised
the name, but he still wouldn’t look up from his examination of the
floor.”

“‘Oh yes, he knows who I’m
talking about.’ Dennison had also seen the involuntary movement and
he was smiling that mirthless smile again as he looked at
William.”

“‘It’s very nice for you that
you can have conversations with other drunkards in the pub,
Dennison, but what has it got to do with William?’ Sam said. ‘Why
don’t you spit it out, man, and then we can all go home?’”

“Sammy’s patience was obviously
running out, or he had some idea where this was all leading,
because this was the first time he had spoken since we had forced
our way into the warehouse. I glanced across at him and his face
was pale and weary, as though he did know what was going to come
next.”

“‘Oh, I’ll spit it out all
right.’ Dennison snarled. ‘You’re going to get every little detail
of what happened that day, just in case our friend William here has
forgotten some of it. When I’ve told you what happened, I’m going
to kill William Drinkwater and the rest of you as well, so there’ll
be no-one to tell tales about what happened here. Before I leave,
I’ll set the warehouse on fire, so there won’t be any evidence left
and I’ll get away with killing you all.’”