Dead to Me
‘I had planned to stay in Scotland, get a little croft and carry on working for the Forestry. But having seen Devon now, I could be tempted to settle here, even if there are no forests.’
‘Once the world gets back to normal, people will want gardeners and gamekeepers again,’ she said. ‘In Devon and everywhere else.’
Verity told Sergeant Meakin exactly what had happened the previous day, from the moment she jumped off her bicycle at the gate to the last thing she remembered when she made herself fall backwards.
‘Why didn’t you call out as soon as he grabbed you? Or kick out at him?’
‘He had a knife at my back. I believed he would stab me if I yelled. Besides, there was no one around because it was raining hard. Once he put the noose around my neck I was too scared to do anything. I only got a bit braver on the cliff path because I knew, if I didn’t act, he’d kill me.’
‘Why did he track you down to kill you?’
Verity thought that was a very odd question; it seemed Meakin was almost blaming her.
‘He said it was because he’d always hated me, that I was a cold-hearted bitch like my mother. He was in such a rage, he looked wild and crazy. He said something about seeing my face in the faces of the other women he killed. But he didn’t stand to gain anything by killing me, it could only make things worse for him.’
‘So he told you he’d killed two other women?’
‘Yes, he did, not just about seeing my face in theirs but that he strangled them like they were chickens.’
‘So how did you get away from him?’
Verity shrugged. ‘I kicked him and just fell backwards. I hoped he’d let go of the noose, and I suppose he must have done, or I wouldn’t be here to tell you this. I don’t remember anything else.’
He seemed satisfied with that, but then went on to ask a few more questions about Archie coming to live with her in Weardale Road.
‘You knew he was a wanted man, yet you didn’t go to the police,’ he said. ‘Why was that?’
‘That’s difficult to explain. I was absolutely horrified to see him and I did say he’d have to go, but a girl sharing my house, who didn’t know what he’d done, suggested he stay the night. So I said he could stay just the one night. Anyway, he told me all the embezzlement thing was sorted out. I believed him then, because it did seem improbable he’d come to me knowing the police were still looking for him. I suppose I felt sorry for him too, because back then I thought he was my real father.’ Verity paused, she knew she wasn’t explaining herself very well.
‘Go on,’ Meakin urged her.
‘I suppose I kind of wanted a family. I’d lost my mother and my aunt very recently, war had broken out, and I was very much alone. Not a good reason to let him stay, as it turned out. But don’t we all do things sometimes that we regret later?’
‘Do you regret helping him burgle houses?’
Verity’s head hurt, she felt a little shaky still from the ordeal the previous day, but at that question from the policeman the room seemed to swirl around her as if she was going to faint.
‘Helping him burgle houses?’ she said questioningly. ‘Is that what he’s said? I never heard anything so ridiculous.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Meakin said. ‘But I had to ask.’
The police sergeant left then, saying he’d get the statement typed up and would bring it back for her to sign in due course.
Verity lay down on Ruby’s bed. She felt sick with fright, but at least she hadn’t actually denied helping Archie with burglaries. She’d only said it was ridiculous.
Was this going to come back and bite her? Archie had obviously said it thinking that, if he had to go down, he’d take her with him.
Wilby put her head round the door. She took one look at Verity lying on the bed and came right over, putting her hand on the girl’s forehead. ‘You are very pale. Did the sergeant upset you?’
‘It was just going over it again,’ Verity lied. ‘And my head is sore.’ She really wanted to tell Wilby everything, but it was too much, too awful. She needed time to think.
‘Do you think you could talk to Miller now? He’s desperate to see you.’
‘Okay, but don’t expect too much,’ Verity replied.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘At last!’ Miller said, jumping up as Verity came into the sitting room. ‘I was beginning to think you’d run away to avoid me.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, and stopped short because, as Wilby had said, he was quite something to look at.
He’d been attractive before with his duck-egg-blue eyes, chiselled cheekbones and his fair, floppy hair, but he’d been thin and insubstantial. He’d filled out with muscle now; his arms, his thighs, even his neck, were all so much bigger, and his face was more rugged.
‘How are you feeling now?’ he asked, as solicitous as she remembered.
‘My head is a bit sore, and I feel a bit shaky still, but thanks to you I’m alive. That’s something to be very glad about.’
‘Come and sit down,’ he said, reaching out and taking her hand, leading her to an armchair, then taking the one opposite her.
Verity was glad of the space between them. She had been afraid he would start flinging his arms around her before she had a chance to find out if that was what she wanted, or not.
‘Wilby and Ruby explained why they wrote to me,’ he said. ‘And I think they’ve told you exactly why I wrote that letter to you?’
Verity nodded. ‘I did think it was a bit of an odd letter, not your usual style, but of course it never occurred to me Archie had instigated it. A couple of girls at work got similar letters from their boyfriends once they’d joined up, so I suppose that made me think it was all part of being in a country at war. Also, I thought I was to blame, because I ought to have made more of an effort to get up to Scotland to see you.’
‘We both know what a monumental task it was to take a train anywhere in the first year of the war – well, it still can be. Overcrowded carriages full of servicemen, delays and cancellations,’ he smiled at her. ‘I blame myself too for not trying harder to see you. But don’t let’s play the blame game, Verity. It wasn’t being apart that broke us up, was it? We both know now that we were duped. I find it hard to credit that a man could put a girl through so much, especially one he’d brought up from a baby. I understand it was he who told you he wasn’t your real father?’
‘Yes, and in the most unpleasant way too. It wasn’t a total surprise, as Aunt Hazel had hinted at intrigue. I just wish she’d told me everything, and I probably wouldn’t have let him through the door. Now I am so glad he isn’t my real father. I think I must change my name as soon as possible. But enough of that, why don’t you tell me about your life in Scotland?’
He laughed. ‘You always did that,’ he said. ‘We’d be talking about your childhood or your mother and suddenly you wanted to stop. I’m not going to try and make you talk about those things, but maybe one day you will need to.’
‘Possibly,’ she agreed. ‘But not today. Are you still living in a freezing Nissen hut?’
‘No, I’m the boss now, so I get to live in the Head Forester’s house – in the forest, of course.’
‘Is it a Hansel and Gretel type cottage?’ she asked. ‘It sounds as if it ought to be.’
‘Not really, it was once the gatehouse to the laird’s estate, so it’s stone built, sturdy, a bit Gothic, with two rooms, a kitchen and bathroom. The furniture came with it – that’s shabby, faded grandeur – and I think it all came from the big house, or “hoose” as they say up there. But it’s comfortable, very warm when I get the fire going, and I’ve got a little garden too. So I’m keeping my hand in, though with vegetables now, not flowers.’
‘So you are the boss?’ she smiled. ‘That’s impressive.’
‘I think it’s only because I’m really interested in all aspects of forestry, planting the trees, caring for them, deciding which ones are ready to be felled. And I studied up
on it, whereas the other blokes just see it as a job, glad they escaped having to go to war. Most of them don’t appreciate nature, the deer and other animals, yet that’s all part of maintaining and protecting our forests.’
Verity had always liked that he was a thinker, a man who cared about nature. She thought it was just as well he hadn’t been considered fit enough to be called up; she couldn’t imagine him dealing with being expected to fire a gun at other humans.
‘I can drive now too,’ he said. ‘I had to learn to transport the timber. It’s good to be able to see other parts of Scotland too, though mostly I only drive the lorry to Glasgow and the shipyards on Tyneside. Wilby said last night how the war had changed us all. Do you think you’ve changed?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Do you think so?’
‘I can only see that you are prettier than ever. But Wilby and Ruby said you are far more confident than you used to be, and daring, I believe, they say you climb telegraph poles.’
Verity laughed. ‘There’s nothing daring about that. Except perhaps in a high wind.’
‘Are you daring enough to try again with me?’ Miller said.
Verity looked at him and made a ‘don’t know’ gesture with her hands. ‘I’m so very glad you came when you did, because you saved my life. But the horror of what nearly happened, coming face to face with that madman again, has made me doubt everything. It’s like my mind has gone. Can you understand that? If you’d come before that happened, when my mind was clear, it would be different.’
He nodded gravely. ‘I can understand all that. I think anyone would be hard pressed to even think after such a trauma, much less decide whether you need or want a man in your life right now. I think the best thing I can do is go and check into a guest house nearby. I’ll come and see you each day until I have to go back. Maybe we could go for walks, go to the pictures, just as old friends. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds good,’ she replied, but a little voice in her head was telling her the exact opposite.
He slid off his chair and moved towards her on his knees. He took both her hands in his and looked right into her eyes. ‘You look frightened of me,’ he said gently. ‘Have you forgotten what good friends we were? Maybe too much water has passed under the bridge for us to be sweethearts, but we ought to remain friends.’
‘I’m sorry, Miller,’ she said, and tears welled up in her eyes. ‘You’ve come all this way, and you saved my life, but I can’t cope with anything else right now.’
‘That’s alright,’ he said. He put his hands on either side of her head and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. ‘I’ll go now, but I’ll ring Wilby and tell her where I’m staying. And if you find in a day or two that you want to see me, that’s fine with me.’
Verity jumped out of her chair and fled. She couldn’t bear her feelings of guilt at letting him down, or the fear that her time as a burglar was going to come out. She was even afraid that she wasn’t normal, because of what Archie had done that Christmas when she was twelve, and again before he locked her in the Morrison shelter.
Miller remained in the sitting room for a little while after Verity had fled. He couldn’t wish he’d never come – if he hadn’t, she might be dead now. He knew he loved her, and he was prepared to wait, but his instinct told him that there was more to this than just yesterday’s terrifying experience. He felt that something she’d tried to bury had come to the surface and it needed to be faced.
But if she wasn’t even comfortable holding his hand, he wouldn’t be able to get it out of her.
Wilby was in the kitchen when she heard Verity run upstairs, but she thought she’d gone to the bathroom or to collect something she wanted to show Miller. Then, a little while later, he came into the kitchen looking very sad and said he was going, but he’d be in touch.
She tried to ask him what had gone wrong, but he just said, ‘The buried past, I think.’
He wouldn’t stay for a cup of tea, but he said he’d telephone the next day to see how Verity was. Then, after thanking Wilby for putting him up, he left.
Wilby flew upstairs and into Verity’s room. She was lying face down on her bed crying.
‘Whatever is it?’ Wilby asked and sat down beside her, putting a comforting hand on the girl’s back.
‘I’m no good for him,’ Verity sobbed out.
Wilby didn’t try to get anything more out of her. She just sat, rubbing Verity’s back, and waited. Over the years she’d had many damaged children sent to her to foster, and she knew from experience that it wasn’t a bit of good trying to force them to open up about whatever it was that had distressed them. Even Ruby had taken some time before she stopped being suspicious that something nasty was right around the corner. The things that had bruised her came out in dribs and drabs over a long period of time. Her problem had been that she both loved and hated her mother, and she despised herself for that love.
Wilby had had children who were victims of incest or cruelty, and a couple who were so malnourished it took months to bring their health back. She remembered one poor boy who had cigarette burns on his back, the work of his father when he was drunk.
One thing Wilby did know, though, was that getting them to talk about the past was the only cure. The trick was to recognize the moment when they could be drawn out.
Verity wasn’t anywhere near that stage yet. It was clear yesterday’s events had brought stuff back to the surface and made her think she was worthless.
And perhaps she was afraid too. But afraid of what?
‘What’s going on, Wilby?’ Ruby asked a little later. She had been in the dining room writing some letters while Miller had been speaking to Verity, and when she heard the front door shut, she assumed they’d gone out together.
It was only when she saw Wilby coming downstairs looking upset that she realized something was wrong.
Wilby explained as succinctly as possible.
Ruby clapped her hand over her mouth in astonishment. ‘I thought it was all going to be hearts and flowers,’ she said. ‘Why? What is wrong with her? She’s told me she still loves him so many times. How can she be like this now?’
‘She’s troubled by something,’ Wilby said. ‘I’d say it was something to do with her stepfather, it isn’t about Miller. But I don’t want you pestering her; she’ll let us know what the problem is in her own good time.’
‘Okay,’ Ruby said. ‘But I think I ought to move back into the room with her. I know you’d like the dining room back, and if I go slowly I can manage the stairs. We’ve always told each other important things after we put the light out, maybe she’ll tell me about this.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sitting on a bench in the garden Verity read a section of Miller’s letter for the third time, with tears running down her face.
I understand that you feel unable to make a commitment to me just now. But what I can’t understand is why, if I so much as hold your hand or put my arm around you, you freeze up. You must know I wouldn’t try to force you into anything, we were good friends for a long time before I so much as kissed you.
So, after weighing everything up, I’ve come to the conclusion that if I repel you that much, I just have to give up on you …
She didn’t blame him for saying this. During the week after rescuing her from Archie, he stayed locally and called every day. They’d been to the pictures together and to the pub, and God knows she had tried so hard not to freeze on him, but it happened involuntarily.
It was early Saturday morning and a beautiful warm, April day. The letter had arrived just as she was putting the kettle on. She had intended to take Ruby and Wilby a cup of tea in bed, but once the letter plopped on to the doormat she forgot the tea and came out here to read it.
The rest of the letter was just like all his others – newsy, warm and funny – until she got nearly to the end and came to the sad part. She thought he had probably started out writing it several days earlier, then all at once he’d seen the
hopelessness of his situation. Who could blame him for saying what he felt?
Ruby came out into the garden wearing just her nightdress, carrying a cup of tea in her hand. She was walking almost normally again now, and the belief that she was going to spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair now just seemed like a bad dream.
‘I looked out of the window and saw you were crying, so I guess it isn’t a real love letter?’ she said, holding out the cup of tea to Verity.
‘No, it isn’t.’ Verity lifted a tear-streaked face to her friend, took the tea and tried to smile. ‘He’s got fed up with trying to woo me. I bet you think he was a mug for being patient that week he was here?’
‘Miller is no mug,’ Ruby said reprovingly, sitting down beside Verity. ‘He’s a kind, decent man. I wish – as does Wilby, and everyone else who met him – that it would work out between you two. But I can’t help thinking he was never right for you, and perhaps you instinctively know that. I mean back when he lived in your house in Weardale Road, why didn’t anything ever happen between you? Two people who are meant for each other usually can’t help themselves.’
Verity said nothing. She had thought back to that period in her life so many times and although she remembered having odd little daydreams about Miller, she couldn’t claim to have been, as Ruby would say, ‘lusting’ after him. But then she’d never lusted after anyone in her entire life, and maybe the truth of the matter was that she was frigid?
‘Well?’ Ruby prompted.
‘Maybe I’m just frigid,’ Verity said with a sigh. ‘You’ve always been the physical kind, right from fourteen you were keen on boys. I was never like that.’
‘I don’t believe that. Wilby thinks that you are kind of frozen, waiting for the whole Archie thing to be resolved. Once he’s hanged, you’ll feel completely different,’ Ruby said. ‘It’s only just over a week now, and then you’ll never have to think about him again.’
At first when Archie was charged with the murder of the two women and the attempted murder of Verity, he denied everything vigorously. But as the weight of evidence built up against him, not just for the murders but being cashiered from the army, accused of embezzlement, and with dozens of counts of dishonesty, he folded. He knew he had no chance of being found Not Guilty in a trial by jury with Verity as the principal witness, so he made a full confession.