‘What can I do?’ Ruby asked.
‘Nothing, you can’t even lay the table until he gets here or Verity will ask who the extra place is for. Thank goodness the boys are upstairs. If they knew there was any intrigue, they’d be waiting at the front door for Verity and giving the game away.’
‘They’re building something vast, so Colin yelled down earlier on,’ Ruby said. ‘I hope that means they are using the bricks, not the beds, wardrobes and everything else.’
She returned to reading the paper. But as she finished the front page and opened it up to the next, she gasped.
‘Oh, Wilby!’ she said, clamping her hand over her mouth in horror. ‘Archie Wood is in here. There’s a picture, and the police are hunting for him.’
Wilby dropped her potato peeler and came over to the table, reading the story over Ruby’s shoulder. ‘Lord save us, he’s killed two women!’ she gasped, her face blanching. ‘That one’s the murdered woman we read about in Limehouse! It says “last seen in Bristol”. I do hope he isn’t making his way here.’
‘Why would he?’ Ruby asked. ‘He knows if he goes anywhere near Verity, they’ll catch him.’
‘A man on the run is as unpredictable as a wounded animal. He might come here thinking she’ll give him shelter.’
‘Fat chance of that!’ Ruby snorted. ‘But why haven’t the police warned us he’s heading this way? The ones in London promised they’d keep us abreast of everything until he was arrested.’
Wilby raised her eyes and held her hands together as if praying. ‘Come home, Verity! No dawdling, stopping for a chat. Just come home.’
‘She will – look, it’s pouring with rain now,’ Ruby said. ‘She’ll ride home like she’s got the wind up her tail.’
Soon after Exeter the train began to run along the edge of the coast, and Miller could hardly believe his eyes. He didn’t know Devon at all, and it seemed to him that this impulsive trip to see Verity was going to work because everything had gone his way so far. He’d come down on the overnight train from Glasgow to Plymouth, and although all the sleepers were taken, he got a window seat. There were no hold-ups, despite absolutely everyone warning him there would be. The train chugged on through the night, and he thought the sound of the wheels were saying, ‘Soon be with Verity, soon be with Verity.’
He slept on and off, and his fellow passengers in the carriage were friendly without being intrusive. One lady insisted he share her cheese-and-pickle sandwiches and a huge slice of fruit cake. Bristol was supposed to be tricky – problems with points and signals – but there were no delays, and when he finally arrived at Exeter in the afternoon it was only ten minutes for the connection to Torquay.
Yet no one had told him that for the remainder of the journey the train would run along just yards from the water’s edge, or that there would be dozens of little boats bobbing at their moorings with the sun glinting on the waves. Miller felt like a small boy again, catching his first glimpse of the sea, and he made a silent pact that if Verity still cared for him as much as he cared for her, they would marry and live here for the rest of their lives.
He knew he’d become a man whilst working for the Forestry. It wasn’t just building up muscle and the physical strength needed to fell trees and haul them to timber yards. It was far more than that. He’d learned to take responsibility, not just for himself but for the younger, weaker men who had chosen to work for the Forestry, rather than joining the forces or the fire service, because they thought it a soft option. Of course, it wasn’t. Felling trees when the ground was frozen, and the north wind bit through even the warmest coat and hat, was no picnic. There were no home comforts, and the food was often appalling. Then there were the accidents: a saw slipping could slice off a hand, a falling branch could knock a man unconscious or blind him, and they were miles from medical care.
Miller found all the first aid he’d learned back in London had stood him in good stead. He could sew up a gaping wound, remove an infected tooth if necessary, lance a boil, make a splint for a broken limb, and deal with a hundred other less serious medical problems. But he knew it wasn’t just these practical skills that had made him a man; it was more the ability to communicate with and understand his fellow forestry workers. He’d learned to care for them, even when they behaved like savage brutes, to comfort them when they were hurt, to laugh with them at both triumphs and disasters, and to share whatever he had, be that his knowledge, his strength or his rations.
As a boy he’d been a loner, perhaps he always would be, but the difference now was that he wasn’t isolated; he knew other men looked up to him, they wanted his company, and they trusted him. That felt good.
He closed his eyes for a moment as the train drew into Newton Abbot. It was raining hard now, but he was glad it hadn’t begun until he’d seen the sea. His heart was pounding at the prospect of seeing Verity. He’d carried a picture of her for so long in his head, her blonde hair flowing down over her shoulders as she brushed it out before bedtime. Her slim yet shapely figure, the way she bit her lower lip when she was reading, and her lovely musical laugh.
He wondered if she’d ever known how often he’d wanted to reach out and remove the pins from her hair and let it tumble, run his fingers through it, and kiss that lovely, long slender neck.
He only knew she’d felt the same as him when they shared that first kiss on Hither Green Station, when he was leaving for Scotland. Even then he hadn’t said he loved her, only made some vague allusion to her being special. His letters were dry, passionless tomes, and he should have insisted on leave, to go and see her for a few days and make her see that she was everything to him.
What was the matter with him back then that he couldn’t say what was in his heart?
His heart quickened now as the train began to slow for Torquay. He was on his feet, bag in hand, ready to leap out the moment the train stopped. He willed a taxi to be waiting.
He couldn’t wait to see her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Verity was singing ‘Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’ as she raced through St Marychurch on her bicycle. She often sang while cycling and got some odd looks, but it was raining so hard the streets were deserted. She’d only passed one woman since leaving the office.
She was drenched right through to her underwear, but the thought of getting into a hot bath and dry clothes spurred her on to pedal faster.
As she turned off Hampton Road into Higher Downs Road she saw a man in a trilby and a dark overcoat, across the road from her house. He was just standing there.
Slowing right down, she hopped off her bike to wheel it in through the gate, and the bearded man crossed the road towards her. Assuming he wanted to ask her a question, she paused.
‘Looking for someone?’ she asked.
Suddenly, before she could move, he grabbed her arm, making her drop her bike. He twisted her arm up behind her back and stuck something sharp into the small of her back.
‘If you make a sound, I’ll stick this knife in you. I just want to take you down the road to talk to you.’
The moment he spoke she realized it was Archie. Fright made her almost wet herself, and although she opened her mouth to speak, no sound came out. She let him lead her away from the house towards the Downs and the cliff railway. All she could hope for was that Wilby would see her bicycle lying on the pavement and, guessing something bad had happened, would phone the police. But with a wall around the garden how would she see it?
Any other time the area by the cliff railway would have had people standing there admiring the view, but the heavy rain had sent every last person home. When she saw Archie was going to take her on to a narrow winding path that went down over the cliff to Oddicombe Bay, her fear increased tenfold. There would be no one there to appeal to for help.
The path and the beach it led to were out of bounds, blocked up since the war began. But someone had either cut or pushed the barbed wire aside. Even in good weather it was a challenging walk, but in heavy rain it
was treacherous and only the foolhardy would use it.
Archie prodded her harder in the back. The blade penetrated her clothes and pricked her skin enough to know he would stab her if she resisted. She slithered on the path in her already wet shoes, but he held her arm in a vice-like grip. Even if it had been safe enough to run, he wasn’t going to give her the chance.
The trees and thick undergrowth on either side of the path smelled earthy, a smell she’d always loved, but with Archie holding a knife to her back it took on the smell of an underground cellar, where death awaited her. Somehow, she knew that was what he intended; there was desperation in his movements and the few words he’d said to her. She couldn’t think of anything to say that might change his plan.
‘Nearly there,’ he said as he forced her ahead of him down the narrow path. ‘Then we can have a little chat, can’t we?’
He moved the knife and held it in front of her face for a moment to scare her further. It wasn’t a big knife, just one of those folding ones fishermen used, but it looked very sharp. He moved it to her throat, nicking the flesh, and at the same time twisted her arm even higher up her back.
The way he leered at her was all too familiar; he had always liked to see her terrified. It probably made him feel powerful. He’d got his wish, she was terrified, but she was damned if she’d let him see that. She was determined not to cry out.
He punched her in the stomach. ‘Just a reminder not to try to be clever with me,’ he warned her. ‘No one will rescue you this time.’
The punch winded her, and she had a job to stand up straight. But he stuck the knife in her back again to make her move, and pushed her ahead of him down the path.
When they were halfway to the beach, and well hidden from anyone looking over the top of the cliff, he stopped. While still holding the knife to her throat, he reached into his pocket and brought out a length of cord.
‘I’m going to kill you, Verity,’ he said in a calm, measured voice. He held the cord in front of her, and she could see he’d already made it into a noose. With one hand he slipped it over her head, and then pulled it just tight enough so she could feel it taut around her neck. She was so scared she felt her bowels loosen.
‘Please don’t do this, Archie,’ she begged. ‘It doesn’t make any sense to kill me, and you’ll hang for it. If you need money, I’ll get it for you. I know you aren’t my real father, but I’ve always thought of you as my dad and loved you. You must have cared a bit for me too?’
He removed the knife from her neck and put it in his pocket. Then, just holding the noose in one hand, he grinned at her. His eyes were as cold as a dead cod on the fishmonger’s slab, and the grin was maniacal, showing all his teeth, like a savage dog.
‘Care for you? I never even for one moment cared for you. You were less to me than the dog shit on the pavement.’
‘Even if that’s true, it’s no reason to kill me,’ she cried out.
‘I’ve got every reason to kill you. But before I do, I’m going to tell you exactly why.’
Miller got out of the taxi and paid the driver. Then he picked up the bicycle on the pavement, as it was blocking his way into the gate. He stood it against the wall, then walked to the front door.
It was opened by an elderly lady a second after he’d knocked. ‘I’m Miller Grantham,’ he said with a wide smile, holding out his hand to her. ‘I’m so very pleased to meet you, Mrs Wilberforce. Verity talked about you so often.’
Wilby shook his hand and asked him in. ‘Ruby and I are so glad you’ve come, Miller, but I’m afraid we are in a bit of a panic right now, as we’ve just read the paper and discovered Verity’s stepfather is wanted for two murders. We won’t be able to relax until she gets home.’
‘How long will that be?’ he asked. ‘I had to wait for some time at the station to get a taxi, so I thought she was here already and that was her bike outside.’
‘What bike?’ Ruby had wheeled herself into the hall as they were speaking at the open front door.
‘Yes, outside, right by the gate.’ He pointed back to the garden gate. ‘Dropped on the ground. I stood it up against the wall.’
Wilby almost pushed him aside, rushing to the gate. ‘It’s him, he’s taken her!’ she yelled out. ‘Ruby, call the police!’
Miller dropped his bag at the front door and rushed to join Wilby at the gate. ‘Which way do you think he’s taken her?’
Wilby pointed towards the Downs. ‘It’s bound to be that way. I bet he’s taken her down the cliff path by the railway.’
Miller didn’t even stop to speak, just hared off down the road.
Wilby stood wringing her hands for a moment, her face contorted with anxiety, the rain running down her face unheeded.
‘Have you rung the police?’ she shouted back to Ruby.
She heard Ruby call back that they were on their way, and then she too ran down the road towards the cliff.
Verity looked into Archie’s eyes and didn’t recognize him as the man she’d once called Daddy. He was so wild and unkempt, far, far worse than he’d been that day he beat her and locked her in the Morrison shelter. Terrified as she was, convinced that at any moment he would pull on that noose around her neck and her life would be over, she somehow knew that she had to hide that terror from him, as that was what he wanted.
‘So tell me why you want to kill me?’ she asked, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. ‘Is it because my mother cheated you and pretended I was your child?’
‘Do you think I care who spawned you?’ he sneered, sticking his face right up to hers. ‘You never meant anything to me, you were less than nothing.’
‘So why kill me, then,’ she asked. The path beneath her feet was slippery with mud, and she was afraid she might lose her balance and fall. That way the noose would tighten too. The rain was splattering on a big rock just above them and then running off like a waterfall. This cliff always had dozens of these little waterfalls, even at the height of summer. When she and Ruby were young girls they used to wash their face and hands in them on hot days.
‘Because you put the rage inside me,’ he said. ‘You took everything from me.’
‘How did I do that?’ she asked.
‘By being you. I’ve killed two women, strangled them like they were a couple of chickens,’ he said. ‘Both times I saw your face in them.’
This was shocking if it was true, but she couldn’t really believe it was.
‘You mean they reminded you of me?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He slapped her hard across the face with his free hand, but the movement tightened the noose around her neck. ‘They judged me, the way you do. The way you always did, even when you were a little kid.’
‘Let me go, Daddy,’ she pleaded, thinking that might help her cause. ‘You don’t really want to kill me. You know you don’t.’
She realized immediately she had said the wrong thing. His face darkened. His eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Do you really think I came all the way here for anything else?’ he yelled, his spit going all over her face. ‘You and your bloody mother ruined my life. She was a cold-hearted bitch and you are the same.’
His hand gripped the noose, and it tightened again. Her hands came up involuntarily to loosen it, but he slapped them away, bending her over backwards, his face almost on hers. Verity couldn’t see what was behind her, rocks or bushes, but she did know it was a very steep bank. If she fell back, he would surely lose his balance too and fall with her. But he might let go of the noose momentarily. She thought it was worth a try.
‘Go on then, kill me!’ she spat at him. ‘You always were a bully, and a pervert too. Then you became a con man and a thief. You say you’ve killed two women, so why not go the whole hog and kill me too?’
He leaned in towards her, perhaps to slap her again. Verity kicked out at his shins, then jerked back, and just let herself go.
She felt the noose tighten as she tumbled into space. She thought she heard a shout too. But her last
thought was of Ruby and how she must learn to walk again.
Miller reached the top of the cliff path, and although he couldn’t see the man or Verity, he could hear a male voice that had to belong to Wood, and guessed he was perhaps thirty to forty feet below the cliff edge.
The cliff path snaked down and round, following natural contours between rocks and pine trees; it was the kind of path that only someone agile and fit would use, and never in heavy rain.
But Miller was used to such terrain, and he was incensed that this man could kidnap and terrify Verity. He made his way down the path carefully and silently, only stopping to arm himself with a fist-sized rock.
Suddenly he heard Verity’s voice, loud and clear. She said, ‘Go on then, kill me,’ and more about Archie being a con man and a thief. Then came a cracking of twigs, followed by the sound of someone falling. Miller stopped being cautious and hurled himself down the path. Just before he reached the spot where Verity must have been when he heard her voice, he saw what had happened. Verity had fallen backwards and slid downhill on her back, a distance of some twelve feet, before her slide was stopped by a rock.
Wood had clearly toppled over with her, but because he had fallen face down he could see where he was going. He’d put his hands out to stop his slide, and he was just getting on to his knees to crawl towards Verity.
He was slithering towards her, like a wild animal stalking his prey, and he certainly wasn’t intending to help her.
Miller didn’t stop to think but leapt down the bank without a thought for his own safety, skidding and sliding until he reached Wood, pulled him up by his collar and bashed his head with the rock. Wood slumped face down and was still.
In two strides Miller reached Verity. He saw the cord noose around her neck, and getting his fingers beneath where it was digging into her neck, he loosened it.
She had a pulse, but she had been knocked out by the fall. He moved her carefully and saw she had a head wound. He scooped her up in his arms, turned and climbed back up to the path, and then on up to the top of the cliff.