The Nothing Girl (29 page)

No, they weren’t, technically. But when I thought of what they’d done to Thomas. And Mrs Crisp. And Russell. They would have seen him in prison; his life ruined, without a second thought.

Cold, numb horror was settling in my stomach, heavy as lead. I looked at their faces – the people who were supposed to care for me, to love me … I’d suspected, but now I knew. I could feel things slide away from me. It’s no small thing to have your family hate you …

Mrs Crisp, standing behind me, put her hand on my shoulder.

I pushed my way past sick betrayal and said to Uncle Richard, ‘But why …?’

He wouldn’t look at me. None of them would look at me. Except Francesca, who was staring in baffled horror.

Tanya spoke very gently.

‘I’m sorry, Jenny. It was your money. They have been quietly helping themselves for years. For themselves. For Christopher. And, I am sorry to say, Francesca, for you too. Did you never stop to wonder where all the money came from? Your expenses? Your London allowance?’

I wasn’t sure Francesca was hearing any of this. I could sympathise. I was having problems too.

‘Jenny, I am sorry to say this to you, but your money is nearly gone. That is the one reason they let you marry Russell. Having done that, they sowed as many public seeds as they could – your suspicious accidents, the rumour you were being abused by your husband. The mysterious food poisoning that affected no one else. Most of Rushford is convinced Russell is trying to kill you for your money. And Russell, of course, big idiot that he is, played right into their hands. Every time.’

‘Jenny,’ said Aunt Julia, with a huge effort. ‘I don’t know how you can listen to this. After everything we’ve done for you …’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Julia,’ shouted Russell. ‘Give it up. You’ve done nothing for her. You’ve isolated her, denied her a normal life, and frightened her with stupid stories about having to live in a “special place”. You’ve stolen from her, poisoned her, undermined her, your stupid son almost killed her – it just goes on and on. So shut up about the benefits supposedly showered on her over the years, or I’ll take that coil of wire and go straight to the police – right now. And Mrs Crisp has Jenny’s glass, too. And the contents. After you tried to blame her for Jenny’s poisoning, she doesn’t love you any more than I do.

Controlling trembling lips, Aunt Julia tried again. ‘I think you forget, Russell, Francesca and I were in this very house yesterday when you tried to …’

‘I told you, the tea was fine,’ he said with contempt. The whole thing was to frighten you into thinking that maybe I
was
trying to do away with your niece. That I did have designs on her money, after all. How scared were you then, Julia? Scared enough to go straight back to Richard and organise yourselves an invite to dinner tonight. So you could have another go. One last effort to get Jenny back and send me down.

‘You’re a ruthless bitch, Julia. You dropped oil on the stairs for Jenny to slip on. And she nearly caught you. You had to turn around and pretend to be coming
up
the stairs. I give you credit for genuine shock afterwards. She came a right cropper, didn’t she? Right in front of your eyes. All thanks to you. And so neatly mopped up afterwards, as you supposedly clutched your hankie in shock. Did you think I wouldn’t recognise the smell of linseed oil? Clever of you to use something half Rushford knew I’d bought the day before. Thanks to the very public scene you organised. From a woman famous for avoiding public unpleasantness? You really overdid it there, didn’t you?’

I couldn’t help it. A stupid, dry sob forced itself up through my chest. Andrew took my hand again, saying quietly, ‘Nearly done, Jenny, I promise you. Nearly done.’

Tanya dumped her briefcase on the table, pulling out documents.

‘I will tell you now of the offer Russell will make to you. I will tell you this only once. If you refuse he – we – will go to the police with the glass, the contents, the wire, and certain financial statements which you will not wish made public.’

‘You’re bluffing,’ said Uncle Richard.

‘I think,’ said Andrew, suddenly looking very like Russell, ‘that when you admitted you and Miss Bauer were professionally acquainted, you assumed she was a solicitor, like yourself. I’m afraid we allowed you to continue with that assumption. Actually, Miss Bauer is a forensic accountant. And she’s good. She’s very, very good. Would you like to see the statements?’

Uncle Richard made an abrupt gesture.

Tanya continued.

‘This document transfers ownership of Christopher’s business to Jenny. After all, she has probably bought it many times over the years. The agreement covers the business, stock, and premises.

‘Not the premises.’

Most definitely the premises. The only reason you have been propping him up over the years. When the new shopping area happens …’ she tailed away. ‘Now. Sign.’

Aunt Julia was distraught. ‘Not Christopher’s business. Richard, you can’t. What will he do?’

Russell spoke with massive restraint. ‘Let me put this in terms you can understand, Richard. You will sign Christopher’s worthless business – and the building, because that does have value – over to Jenny, now, tonight, or Tanya hands the whole file over to her boss. The police are involved. You’re ruined and go to prison. Julia is ruined and goes to prison. Christopher is ruined and goes to prison. Francesca is just ruined. Your business, your reputation, everything will be gone by this time tomorrow. And I’ll do it, Richard. I’ll bring you down with more pleasure than anything I’ve done in my entire life. So sign. Now.’

‘No,’ said Aunt Julia, shrilly. ‘It’s Christopher’s.’

‘Very well. I must admit sending you all to prison was always my first choice. Tanya …’

She began to put the papers away.

Uncle Richard said quietly, ‘I’ll do it.’

She passed him the document and he signed. Christopher signed. Kevin and Mrs Crisp witnessed.

‘And now,’ said Russell, between his teeth, ‘get that tosspot out of here before I break his neck.

Kevin yanked Christopher from his seat and hustled him out of the room. I remembered afterwards that he’d never said a word the whole time. He rarely did, but Christopher had more impact on that evening than everyone else in the room.

Francesca dragged big, frightened eyes away from Russell to Daniel and said, ‘Daniel. Yes.’

‘Good girl,’ he said, taking her hand.

Russell had more to say.

‘I’m not finished with you yet, Richard. You will retire. You have one year. One year to sell up – practice, house, everything, and clear out of Rushford. You will sign over one half of the proceeds to Jenny as reparation and we’ll let you leave quietly. Otherwise …’

I don’t think Aunt Julia quite understood the implications. She turned angrily to Russell.

‘But that would leave us with barely anything. Where would we go?

‘Who cares?’

‘Jenny, you can’t …’

‘I told you. Leave her alone. She’s nothing to do with you any longer.’

Uncle Richard said again, ‘Shut up, Julia. One third, Russell. You take one third and we go quietly.’

‘Done. Sign here.’

He did.

‘Now get out.’

Aunt Julia still hadn’t given up. ‘We never meant to kill anyone. We certainly never meant to kill Jenny. You must believe that. When Christopher … well, we were horrified. If she’d just lived quietly with us, she could have had a nice life. Secure, protected. We took her into our own home. We looked after her.’

‘Not a home – a prison. Jenny, there’s nothing wrong with you. I keep telling you, but you’re so brainwashed … You have a bit of a stutter and the self-esteem of a tea bag. That’s all. There’s absolutely no reason in the world why you can’t live a normal life. This – threat – that’s been held over your head is – as I think I once told you – utter bollocks. They used it to control you. And the longer you stayed, the less likely you were to leave. Or want to. And everyone just accepted it – you, your school, everyone in Rushford. They all thought you were little Jenny Dove, not quite right, poor thing, who lives with her kind aunt and uncle. And if I hadn’t come along – I mean, I saw at a glance that …’

Andrew said, ‘Russ …’

He stopped. Took a deep breath. Got control.

‘Julia, get out. Before I become violent.’

Her face changed. I would not have known her.

‘You stupid, stupid girl. From the moment they dumped you on me I knew you were trouble. Never speaking. Always watching. And you had the money while my own bright, beautiful children … It’s not as if you ever needed it. You weren’t doing anything with your life. All you had to do was live with us. It wasn’t so much to ask.’

‘Richard, shut her up.’

‘Who were you compared with us? You’re nothing. That’s how I always think of you. The nothing girl. I blame you, Russell. You cause trouble wherever you go. Your father killed his wife. Why shouldn’t you have done the same?’

Without warning, Uncle Richard wheeled on her. ‘Julia. Be silent. I forbid you to say another word. Does it not occur to you they may be recording this?’

‘But, Richard …’

‘Shut. Up.’

The words reverberated with barely-restrained ferocity. I stared at him in shock. Where was the Uncle Richard I’d known? Where had he gone? The answer was, of course, that he had never been there. That was just the face he had chosen to show to the world. And me. I felt sick when I thought of his false kindness, his concern, and all this time …

It was time I said something. Because all right, they’d had a go at me, but Russell was the one who’d really been in danger. It was Russell whose life would have been ruined. For the second time. I don’t know what happened. And I don’t know why it happened then. I only know, that suddenly, without any warning – I found my voice.

‘Get out. Get out of our house. Both of you. It makes me sick just to have you here. You called me a nothing girl. Well, this nothing girl despises you. I’d rather be nothing and loved by Russell Checkland than anything else on earth. You would have ruined his life and he’s so much better than you. He’s kind and generous and passionate and everything you’re not. He will be a great painter one day. And – and he goes like a train.’

Aunt Julia’s face twitched with disgust.

I picked up steam.

‘And I’ll tell you this for nothing. You will leave Rushford and you will never come back. Russell might be content with seeing you all in prison, but he’s a much nicer person than I am. I swear, if I ever see any of you again – I will
end you
.’

Those final words throbbed with a passion I didn’t know I possessed.

Andrew laughed. ‘Congratulations, Russ. You told me she was a winner.’

I turned to him. ‘Did he?’

‘Several times. God, Jenny, the nights I’ve had to spend listening to him boring on about you …’

‘Yes, thank you, Andrew,’ said Russell. ‘Why are you still here?’

‘For the food, of course. Can we get rid of the peasants and eat, please?’

‘Of course. Kevin, show this crowd out. Franny, you’re welcome to stay if you want. You can’t help your ghastly relatives.’

She said automatically, ‘Don’t call me Franny.’

‘Take them out through the kitchen, Kev. I don’t want anything getting in the way of their hasty departure. Jenny, I don’t know what you’re doing down that end of the table with Andrew. You deserve better than that. Come and sit up here with me.’

I never actually saw Aunt Julia and Uncle Richard leave. I sat by Russell and he held both my hands. They’d been the most important people in my life for so long and when I looked up, they were gone.

He said, ‘I should apologise. For yesterday.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘No, it’s not. If you could have seen the look on your face – I nearly kicked it all into touch there and then. I almost gave you a heads-up at the top of the stairs, but … And then all I could do was make sure you were never alone, or that if you were then I was miles away. With witnesses. And hope you put it all together.’

‘It took a while for my brain to start moving again, but I got there.’

‘And I’m so sorry about tonight, but I had to force the issue. I had to frighten the pair of them into making a move. In front of witnesses. But you’re safe now. I promise you, Jenny …’

But I never found out what he was promising me.

The door crashed open and Kevin raced back into the room, his face as white as his shirt.

‘The stables are on fire.’

Chapter Fifteen

In a second, Russell’s face lost all colour. This was his worst nightmare come true. He shot to his feet with such force that his chair flew backwards.

‘Andrew!’

‘With you, mate.’

They scrambled to the door. Kevin was already gone.

To my surprise, Daniel Palmer was on his feet as well. We gained two good friends that night.

He said, ‘Francesca, stay here,’ but she ignored him, following us all out. Russell fired off instructions.

‘Mrs Crisp – ring the fire brigade. Tell them we have horses. They need to know. Kevin – get the hose. Don’t try anything yourself. Just wait for me. Sharon – get buckets. Jenny – close the gate.’

I nodded. Horses hate fire. They fear it. They’re terrified of it. The last thing we needed was panicking horses bolting through the gate and getting involved with traffic down in the village.

We grabbed old coats and followed them out into the yard just in time to see Andrew follow Russell into the stables, Daniel and Kevin close behind.

It was a nightmare. Not just Russell’s nightmare – everyone’s nightmare. Billowing smoke, pale in the darkness, thick and pungent made the familiar unfamiliar. Strange shapes loomed and vanished, giving the whole scene the appearance of a stop-start movie.

I stood, disbelieving. This could not be happening. We had thought it was all over, but Christopher – who else? – had struck at us one last time. Beside me, Tanya muttered something bad in German.

I set off across the yard to secure the gate. Once done, I had time to look around. It wasn’t the stables after all. The smoke came from the barn next door. Where we stored the feed. Horribly inflammable hay and straw. And Christopher’s coil of wire. The bad taste in my mouth was not entirely due to the acrid smoke.

I waited impatiently. They seemed to have been in the stables an awfully long time. I was tempted to go over myself, but there were four of them in there already and the passage was narrow. More bodies would not be helpful. Sick with dread, I stood by the gate on legs that were not completely mine and waited.

I knew what the problem would be. It would be Marilyn. Donkeys have more sense than horses. They do not flee blindly. Faced with peril, they stand still and have a bit of a think. People think they’re stubborn, but actually, they’re very sensible. Although not that sensible. She would be standing, stock still, while the stable filled with smoke from next door, the flames spread, the roof came down … I shook myself. That would not happen. Russell would not let that happen. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened. We couldn’t lose everything now. Russell would –

Russell would burn to death, or be crushed by a falling building, or trampled by stampeding horses. Russell could die tonight. Along with my confidence, my hopes for the future – everything I ever wanted. And without him, his strength, his belief in me, Julia and Richard would be back. I could hear it now. ‘Poor Jenny. What a tragedy. Such a shock for her. I don’t think she’ll ever get over it, you know.’ And who would believe me? And Andrew might die too. And Daniel. Or Kevin. I felt hot panic eat away at the edges of my mind. The urge to do something. Anything.

I let go of the gate and started across the yard. Tanya caught my arm. ‘No. No, Jenny. You must leave them. It is not allowed that you go in there.’

She was right. It’s easy to get involved in a catastrophe and make things worse. The hard part is to stand back and do nothing. She rubbed my arm. ‘Leave it to Andrew and Russell.’

Finally, Daniel Palmer appeared through the smoke, leading a slow-moving Thomas. I heard Francesca catch her breath on a sob, but Thomas limped gamely through the murk. He was sweating and trembling, but by Frogmorton standards, as calm as a rock.

Daniel called, ‘Jenny!’ and I ran forward to take Thomas. ‘Russell says – get him into the field. He may try to run back in again.’

I nodded. Horses do this, as well. They feel safe in their stable – it’s their home – and, when threatened, that’s where they run to. Even if it’s on fire at the time.

I led Thomas away. I heard Francesca shout, ‘Daniel!’ but he turned away, put his hands on his knees, drew a couple of breaths, and went straight back in again.

I shouted at Francesca to open the gate into the field. She ran clumsily. Manolo Blahniks. Good old Franny.

Tanya took my place over at the main gate, peering down the road for the emergency services. Where were they? It seemed hours had passed but it was probably less than ten minutes. Maybe they were over the other side of the county. Maybe they were already out on a call and by the time they got here, it would be too late.

We got Thomas into the field and I made myself turn my back on whatever was happening in the yard and concentrate on soothing him. It gave me a purpose and after everything that had happened to him, he deserved better than to be pitch-forked into a freezing field and left alone in the dark.

We waited. And waited. Where the hell was Russell? What was going on in there? Thomas stood quietly enough, trembling but calm. We stood together, our cloudy breath mingling in the cold night air. I seriously considered handing him over to Francesca, but just as I opened my mouth to call her, Kevin appeared, staggering across the yard with Marilyn in his arms. He made his way to the field, followed by Francesca, who was shouting, ‘Where’s Daniel? Where is Russell? What’s going on in there?’

All good questions, but the poor lad was in no state to answer. He carefully set her down. She was paralysed with fright. Under her fringe, her eyes were screwed tight shut and she stood – barely – on widely splayed legs. She was in shock. It was a pitiful sight. So had she looked when she first came to us. I felt an icy rage. If I ever,
ever s
aw Christopher again …

‘What’s the problem in there?’ I said to Kevin, although I knew the answer to that one.

‘Boxer,’ he said, tightly, gasping for breath. That would partly be because of the smoke and partly because the little donkey was considerably heavier now than when she’d first arrived. ‘We thought – if we get her out – he might follow.’

We all looked towards the stable door. It was never going to be that easy. Boxer would be climbing the walls in terror, mindlessly injuring those trying to help him.

I put my hand on his arm and said, ‘Kevin …’

‘It’s OK, Mrs Checkland. He said I’m not to go back in. I can’t do anything and it’s too dangerous. Russell and Andrew will get him out.’

He walked back into the yard, took the hose from Sharon, and started to wet the barn doors. I had no idea how much good that would do.

Thomas shuffled forward and dropped his head to Marilyn. She lifted her nose but under the fringe, her eyes were still tightly closed. He nuzzled behind her ears and she made that small sound again.

Still no sign of Andrew and Russell. Francesca was openly crying now. For two pins, I’d join in. I craned my neck. Where were they? What was going on in there?

Suddenly, from within, I heard a rumble. And a clatter. They’d got him moving. Someone shouted a warning and there was a huge crash. Something big had come down. Not Boxer. Please God, not Boxer. In my mind, I saw Russell – or Andrew – pinned beneath him. Trapped, while the flames drew ever closer.

Marilyn opened her eyes and did what every small donkey does when her world is coming apart around her. She complained.

She opened her mouth and let it all out. Like a whole fleet of super tankers blasting their horns at the world’s biggest fogbank. I swear I could feel my chest rumble.

Francesca, not familiar with this aspect of donkey ownership, took two steps back and stared wildly at her. ‘What…?’

Before she could say any more, Marilyn did it again.

When she finally stopped, bizarrely, I could hear sirens in the distance. Was this some sort of response? Or had she put the whole county on bomb alert by now?

Back in the yard, Boxer erupted from the stables and emerged through the smoke, a wild-eyed nightmare from hell, trailing Russell and Andrew like a pair of party balloons. Daniel ran behind.

Russell lost his grip and went down with a curse, right under his front hooves. Andrew collided with the doorjamb and fell back into the smoke.

Boxer continued unheeding. Hooves clattering, he charged across the yard. Terrified. Blind in his panic. He ran headlong into the water trough and crashed heavily to the ground.

Russell pulled himself to his feet, staggered a little, shouted ‘Andrew!’ and headed straight back into the stable.

Francesca screamed. Kevin shouted something and dropped the hose.

Sharon, tears rolling down her face, picked up the hose and continued hosing down the doors.

Boxer was trying to get up. Thrashing wildly, he lifted his huge head and his terrified screams echoed off the walls. A screaming horse is not something you ever want to hear. His flailing hooves scrabbled for purchase on the wet concrete. One hind leg was actually caught under the trough. I was terrified he would break it.

Marilyn was braying distress signals that could be heard in Venezuela.

I didn’t stop to think. I threw Thomas’s rein at Francesca and ran back into the yard. I threw myself across Boxer’s head, pinning it to the ground. I expected any moment to be thrown off, or badly bitten, but if he couldn’t lift his head, he couldn’t get up.

I could hear Francesca screaming, ‘Oh my God. Oh, my God,’ over and over again. I could feel Boxer’s steamroller breathing, hot against my leg.

Sharon dropped the hose. I could hear Tanya issuing instructions. Somehow, God knows how, they lifted the trough. Just high enough. Water sloshed everywhere. Once his leg was free, I rolled off him, and Kevin shouted to everyone to stand back and let him get up by himself.

He heaved himself to his feet, ears back, still frightened out of his few wits, ready to lash out at anything. Head down, he careered around the yard, desperately seeking a way out. And Marilyn. With Russell gone, she was his only certainty in this suddenly terrifying world.

Francesca stopped screaming, and without being told, seized the field gate and started to push it open.

She was far too slow.

Boxer breasted the gate without even noticing. Still too scared to see what he was doing, he knocked her flying. She went down like a tree and he appeared to run right over the top of her.

Horrified, I watched him disappear into the darkness. Marilyn struggled after him, crying out in distress. I raced as best I could to Francesca, dreading what I might find there.

I reached her – a dark lump lying on the ground and said, ‘Franny, can you hear me? Franny?’

She was face down. A muffled voice said, ‘Don’t call me Franny.’

I swallowed hard. ‘Sorry. Can you move? Do you have any pain?’

She said something rude, hoisted herself on her elbows, and slowly, stiffly, rolled over on her back.

One of Kevin’s jobs is to go round the paddocks each morning with a bucket. It’s good for the roses. He does a pretty good job, but occasionally he misses one.

Francesca had found it.

‘Can you sit up?’

She nodded and I helped her to a sitting position. She groaned, but made surprisingly little fuss.

‘Francesca?’ A frantic Daniel arrived, shouldered me aside, and put his arms around her.

‘Are you all right? What hurts?’

‘Everything,’ she said, comprehensively. Two large tears carved channels in the horseshit.

He stared at her, as did we all. Smoke-blackened, hair falling down, a split lip … I waited for the tantrum. It never came.

She made a huge effort.

‘I’m fine, Daniel.’ She sounded astonished. ‘The gate hit me. Then the horse hit me. Then the ground hit me.’ She looked down at herself, smeared in mud and worse, wrecked shoes falling off her feet. ‘Oh my God, Jenny, I look just like you.’

Her smile was wobbly, but she was smiling, Francesca had made a joke. I, on the other hand, was in tears for her.

And Russell. And Andrew. Where were they? Tanya was still outside the stables, desperately shouting their names. Smoke billowed faster than ever. Any minute now, something would ignite and they were both still in there. Andrew unconscious, maybe badly injured. Russell struggling to get him out, maybe injured himself. Disoriented by the smoke.

I stood and watched – like a spectator in a play.

Kevin, struggling in slow motion, Sharon and Tanya, an arm apiece, holding him back.

Mrs Crisp standing in the kitchen doorway, a dark shape against the lighted kitchen behind her, hands to her face.

Daniel clutching a smoke-blackened Francesca as if he would never let her go.

Then the world speeded up and many things happened at once.

The barn doors blew open with a boom and huge orange flames reached up to the night sky.

Flashing lights announced the arrival of the emergency services. They’d switched off the sirens, which was just as well. Marilyn might have relished the challenge. Suddenly, the yard was full of red and blue lights and men shouting and unrolling hoses.

Russell appeared, supporting a blood-stained Andrew. People ran towards them and pulled them away from the flames. Not me. My legs had stopped working. I got as far as Thomas and had to stop, leaning heavily on him and crying into his mane. He took it very well.

Russell handed Andrew over to the paramedics and pushed his way towards me.

‘Hey, what’s all this? We’re all safe. Why are you crying?’

I couldn’t tell him why. The answer to that was far too complicated to attempt now.

‘I’ll be back in a minute. Stay here and try not to injure yourself.’

He crouched by Francesca. ‘Franny? Daniel told me. If you hadn’t got the gate open, he’d have injured himself really badly. I’m more grateful that I can ever say. Are you hurt?’

‘No,’ she said, still sounding slightly surprised. ‘I’m not.’

‘You’ll be stiff and sore tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Get Daniel to take you away to a really good spa hotel for a couple of days. In fact, it might be a good idea to go now.’

He stood up. ‘Get her away, Daniel. I’ll keep her out of it as much as I can, but if the police want to know what’s been going on here, then I’ll tell the truth. I’m not lying to protect that shithead, ChristopherKingdom.’