The Evil that Men Do (19 page)

‘Where was she?' Paul hunched forward, elbows on his knees. ‘Maybe they haven't searched well enough.'

‘The location she gave the police, on the phone, was a disused shed not too far from Broadway.'

‘Are they sure they found the right place?' Paul shot to his feet. ‘She could be out there, hurt—'

‘They found the right place. I forgot to say, Dorothy, but they found her wristwatch.'

‘But a watch could be anybody's.' Paul wasn't ready to give up hope.

‘They took it to the shelter where she worked. It was positively identified.'

‘Do sit down, Paul,' said Sarah wearily. ‘You can't think when you're in a rage.'

He glared at her, but he sat.

‘And speaking of the shelter,' said Alan, watching both of them closely, ‘I need to know a good deal more about your family history. All I know is that Jo was your counsellor there. If counsellor is the right word.'

‘The word is angel,' said Sarah. She was still crying, but she paid no attention to the tears, which rolled down her face unchecked. ‘We wouldn't be alive now, any of us, if not for Jo.' She sniffed and reached in her pocket. I spotted a box of tissues and passed them to her.

Paul put his hand over hers. ‘It's OK, Mum. I'll tell him.' His voice still had a bit of a hard edge, but his anger was directed inward, not at his mother. At himself, I wondered? Or something in his mind?

‘I'll have to go back quite a way,' he said, ‘so you'll understand. I was born when Mum was pretty young, and my dad was never in the picture. I guess we had a pretty hard time of it. I was too young to remember much, but I do remember Mum crying sometimes, and I remember there wasn't always a lot to eat.'

I looked at Sarah, pale and thin, and at Paul, taller than his mother and with a lean hardness that spoke of good health.
And what little there was, she gave to you
, I thought. I've never had children, but I could understand the fierce love that would protect a child at whatever cost.

Sarah gripped his hand, but didn't interrupt.

‘So when I was about seven, Mum met this man. He started seeing a lot of her, taking her out, bringing her presents. He brought me presents, too. I took them, but I never liked him, not from the very first.

‘Mum told me they were going to get married. I think I was a right stinker about that. Temper tantrums, the lot. Mum tried to tell me it wouldn't make any difference for us, that she'd always love me, but we'd live in a nicer place and have better food and that. I didn't care. I didn't want that man around.'

‘And how right you were, darling,' murmured Sarah.

‘But for the wrong reasons. I was jealous and selfish. I see that now. But of course they married.' He swallowed hard. ‘Is there any more tea?'

‘I'll make some fresh. This is cold.' I got up and went to the kitchen, but I left the door open. I wanted to hear this.

‘He started in, almost from the beginning. It would be after I was sent to bed, and I'd hear him talking to her. She never answered back. He didn't shout, not at first. He just went on and on about how she did everything wrong, she was a terrible cook, she didn't keep the house clean enough, she wasn't trying to look her best.'

He stopped again. I brought him a glass of water. ‘Until the kettle boils,' I said, and he took it and drank thirstily.

‘Then he started drinking. Well, he always drank, ever since I can remember, but it got worse. He'd yell and scream and throw things. Then one night  . . .'

I brought the tea in and saw Sarah wince. ‘Paul  . . .'

‘All right, Mum. I won't go into all the gory details. But they have to know part of it. She was pregnant by that time, and he hit her. Hard. She fell, and  . . .'

Sarah took a deep breath. ‘I almost lost that baby. I would have left, then, but there was no place to go. You don't want to know all of it. Believe me, you don't. But I put up with it for five more years. An eternity. Then  . . .' She couldn't go on.

‘Mum caught him  . . . messing around with Jemima. She was only five. He would have killed Mum then, I think, but I  . . . I stopped him.'

‘You were how old?' Alan asked, very quietly.

‘Thirteen. He was big, but soft, and very drunk. And I had a knife.' He and Sarah both looked as if they might be sick.

Alan gestured a ‘go on'.

‘My son barely scratched him!' Sarah said fiercely. ‘Ben fell, trying to get away from Paul, and hit his head on the Aga. Oh, yes, we had an Aga. We had a beautiful house. Everyone had beautiful clothes. The neighbours all thought we had a beautiful life.' Sarah shuddered and took several deep breaths. ‘I didn't know if he was alive or dead, but I was afraid he was alive. I got his car keys and some money out of his pocket, threw a few clothes into a suitcase, packed up the kids, and left.'

‘Did you go to the police?'

‘No. I didn't dare. Paul had stabbed him, and I had stolen the car and quite a lot of money. And he could be so charming and plausible. I knew he'd twist everything around, make it all my fault, and Paul's. I just drove till I was so tired I thought I couldn't drive any farther, but I had to hide the car. That was the first thing he would do, tell the police the car was stolen and send them looking for it. I knew of a little wood near Winchcombe, where I was born, so I drove there. It was night, and the roads kept turning out wrong, and I thought I'd never find it, but eventually I did. We slept in the car that night. At least the kids did. I woke at every sound, terrified he'd find us.'

She sipped her cooling tea, and Paul took up the story. ‘You don't need to know all about the next few days. They were bad. But Mum finally found a church in Cheltenham where they told her about the shelter. You seem to know about that.'

‘A little,' said Alan.

‘Well, we went there. I don't know if Mum expected much. I didn't, just maybe beds for a night or two before we had to go on the run again. But Jo  . . . sir, you've got to find her! You've got to. She saved our lives, and if she's in trouble now, it's because of us!' He had risen and was pacing the room.

‘Because she's trying to protect you?' Alan asked, sure of the answer.

‘No! Well, not exactly. Because he's after her!'

TWENTY-TWO

‘
I
don't understand.' Alan and I said it simultaneously. It was to me that Sarah turned, her face wiped clean of all emotion.

‘Besides my family, Jo Carter is the only human being on this earth who knows that Sarah Robinson of Broadway is Susan Browne of Winchcombe. We thought we were safe here, the girls and I. But Paul saw my ex-husband in Broadway, just a few days ago. He's still trying to find us, and he knows that Jo was my counsellor. He'll know she knows where we are.'

Whole floods of light were pouring into the dim recesses of my mind. Of course! That explained so many things! The terrible fear we had seen in both Paul and Sarah. Jo's worry. And  . . .

‘Where did you see him, Paul?' Alan's voice was very quiet, very controlled.

Paul looked at his mother, licked his lips, and swallowed. ‘On the street. He didn't see me. He wouldn't know what I look like now, anyway. I was a kid when he saw us last, and I've had a little plastic surgery. We all did. But I've been trying and
trying
to get Mum to move away from here, with the girls. If he's around, it isn't safe any more. She won't listen, she says—'

‘But that isn't the only place you saw him, is it?' Alan's voice was still quiet, but it was as pointed as steel.

‘He  . . . I  . . .'

‘You might as well tell him, lamb. I think he knows, anyway.'

Paul looked from Alan to Sarah, like an animal trying to escape a trap.

‘Shall I tell you?' asked Alan. ‘You saw him push someone into the quarry.'

Paul's face was sufficient answer.

‘I won't ask you why you didn't go to the police at once,' said Alan. ‘But you must do so now, you know.'

‘You don't understand. It wasn't just that I was afraid,' said Paul, very subdued now. ‘I
was
afraid. I still am. You've heard the story. You know why. But it wasn't just that. The thing is, I know nothing about him, not even his name or where he lives, unless he's still at the big beautiful house, but somehow I doubt it. It was probably never even his, really.'

‘His name?' I finally felt free to pose a question. ‘But surely  . . .'

‘No.' Sarah had had just about all she could take. ‘I knew him as Ben Elliot, but I found out, or rather Jo found out, when she was working with us, that he had married me under an assumed name. He was already married. So, although I call him my ex-husband, he's really nothing of the kind. I was never legally married to him. And I don't know his real name. Jo thought it better that I not know.'

‘And Jo is missing,' I said bleakly.

‘Records at the shelter  . . .?' Alan suggested a little hopelessly.

‘They're destroyed soon after clients leave.'

‘You're quite sure, Sarah?' Mrs Bryant had told us that, but I'd hoped she'd been exaggerating.

‘Quite sure. Before they started doing that, someone lied, got access to the records, found out where his girlfriend was  . . . and killed her.' She made a little face at my involuntary gasp. ‘Mine is not an unusual story, Mrs  . . . I'm sorry, I've forgotten your name.'

‘Martin, but Dorothy will be just fine. I do understand.'

‘Appearance, then,' said Alan. ‘What does this man look like?'

Paul looked a little helpless. ‘I'm not good at things like that. He's big, soft. He looks like a drunk, red face and all that. He looks  . . . he looks sort of like Falstaff. We did Shakespeare in school,' he added in response to my astonished look.

‘Now, this is extremely important, Paul.' Alan leaned forward and looked at Paul intently. ‘Are you absolutely positive that the man you saw at the quarry was the man you knew as your stepfather?'

He hesitated. ‘No. I mean, I'm sure, in my own mind, but I suppose I couldn't swear to it. I saw him first in the street, and I was sure then. That was Ben, all right, or whatever his name is. I swear to you, I nearly died of fright until I realized he hadn't even noticed me. And then later  . . . well, I never saw his face, and I wasn't all that close. But it was him,' he finished, stubbornly.

‘What exactly did you see? Or no, first, what were you doing there?'

‘I saw Jo. See, this was the same morning that I saw  . . . him. And he saw Jo, too. I watched it, and there was nothing I could do. He saw her, but they were both in crowds of people, and by the time he got to where she was, she'd gone away. But I heard her tell somebody she was taking a little time off work, and was going up to the Tower later. And  . . . I was pretty sure he heard her, too. So I had to follow.' He leaned forward, too, his hands nearly touching Alan's. ‘Do you understand, sir? This woman is like a second mother to me. She saved my life, saved all our lives, because he would have killed us all. I couldn't stand by and wait for her to be killed!'

‘I understand. Go on.'

‘I followed. I had a motorcycle. Well, you know about that.' He had the grace to blush. ‘I really am sorry about that, ma'am.'

Sarah looked mystified, and Paul rushed on.

‘I have a car, of course, but it's red and  . . . well, pretty conspicuous. And I didn't want anyone to notice me while I was in Broadway, so I borrowed the bike from a friend. And  . . . oh lord, I still haven't had it repaired. Anyway, I rode up the hill as far as there was a track, and then shoved it into some bushes and went the rest of the way on foot.

‘When I got to the Tower, I couldn't see either of them. So I thought maybe I'd got there too early, and I waited around. There was quite a crowd of people, and I had the beard and all, to make me look really different, but I was still pretty nervous about him showing up and maybe recognizing me.

‘So after I'd waited a while, I thought maybe they'd both already been there and left, or maybe Jo had changed her mind about coming. And, oh God, I thought maybe he'd found her down in the village. So I started back. And I guess I wasn't watching where I was going, because I was lost in minutes.'

‘I can relate,' I said, but very quietly.

‘Well, so pretty soon I found myself in a sort of wood. I don't know much about the country. There were brambles, and flies, and it was miserable. I was hot, and scared. And then I saw him.'

‘Ben?'

‘Somebody who looked like him, anyway. He was quite a long way away, on the edge of the wood. I only saw his back, and his hands. He was  . . . doing things with his hands.' Paul made a gesture of clenching and unclenching his fists. It was extraordinarily menacing.

‘He looked just like he used to when he lived with us and was getting ready to blow,' he went on. ‘So I was scared worse than ever, and I thought I'd better follow him. I didn't really want to, because I didn't like the idea of what he might do if he saw me, and we were all alone out there. But I really had no choice.'

‘No,' said Alan. A single word, but Paul looked grateful.

‘Well, I kept well back. I thought for a while I'd lost him, as well as the path, and then I was scared silly that he would come up behind me  . . . well, what with the midges and one thing and another, I was pretty well out of my mind when I heard him call to someone.'

‘Call to someone! To whom?'

‘I don't know. The flies were buzzing around, and there are odd echoes up there, from the quarries, I suppose. I wasn't close enough to see, but he sounded furious. I thought I heard him say “Stop”, and then he swore at whoever it was.'

‘Did the person answer at all?'