Hope's Vengeance (19 page)

Griffin hadn’t returned yet, but Dorothy was unperturbed, he always took his time to ensure the church was thoroughly locked. A recent spate of vandalism had impacted his tendencies further. Dorothy took one of the bottles of sherry, offering it generously to the guests, smiling affably, not noticing the two unknown faces in the doorway.

Dawn tugged Hope’s arm, she was nervous, feeling out of place, and she was concerned about Hope’s hidden agenda. “Hope, what are you doing? We should leave. Really, we should.”

Hope fixed her stare directly inside Dawn’s head, the blue intensity incredible as she burned her way from pupil, to retina, to brain, and shrugged her arm away roughly. “We’re staying. Stick with me, Dawn, act as if you belong here. You’re going to enjoy this, just imagine it’s your uncle we’re doing it to, imagine the satisfaction you’d feel.”

An apprehensive smile touched Dawn’s lips as she accepted Hope wasn’t about to scurry away, tail between her legs, and she wondered why she’d ever even suspected she would. Hope had always come across as strong, and definitely not the type to shy away from a problem. And here he was now, taking the bull by the horns, ready to lock in battle. Remembering she didn’t have to drive, Dawn reasoned she needed some false courage while this bizarre situation unfolded, and before they began the lengthy journey home. She snatched a glass of pale sherry from the table, downed it, and followed it with another. Immediately she could feel the alcohol from earlier being revived, and her face felt warm, flushed.

Hope had disappeared into the crowd, but she stood out, her clothes more vibrant and funky than the twin-sets and tweed that swamped the room, and once more Dawn realised her own style had been emulated by her client. She was unsure whether to see it as a compliment or an irritation, but she had to admit that Hope looked fantastic, the rock chick vibe really suited her.

Hope felt the hand on her arm, she looked down at the diminutive, friendly woman who beamed up at her. “Hello dear, I’m Dorothy, Griff’s wife, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

She grew her smile to match, her eyes twinkling. “Oh Dorothy! I’ve heard so much about you, it’s lovely to meet you finally.”

A lightly quizzical expression fleeted across Dorothy’s face, she knew that Griff tended not to mention her, their marriage not being the happiest union in the parish. “So, what have you been doing for the church that has led to an invite from Griff tonight.”

The smile remained. “Oh, I helped decorate Griffin’s robes this evening, a smattering of colour, made him more Christmassy, you know.”

Dorothy’s smile had waned, she was uncomfortable now, yet unsure why. She said the words to herself more than anybody else. “You called him Griffin. Nobody calls him Griffin, he hates it.”

Grinning affably, eyes crinkling. “Oh, he loves it from me, reminds him of when I used to scream his name when he was having sex with me. ‘Griffin’, I used to shout, ‘Stop, you’re hurting me.’ I mean, he’s a big boy, isn’t he?” Her competent tones were delivered beautifully, the clarity and content killing every other conversation in the room, until all eyes, and all ears, were on Hope’s interaction with the rector’s wife. Dawn was amazed to realise she was enjoying the exchange.

Dorothy searched for the right words, her stutter apparent now nervousness and shame had replaced the motherly act. “You… you… you must be mistaken, Griff’s a reverend, he wouldn’t…”

Hope patted her arm, her soulful eyes full of compassion. “Hey, it was a long time ago, I don’t think he’d even met you then, and I was only seven, after all.” A collective gasp rang through the room, mouths dropping, eyes widened, and Dorothy’s hands wrung together, squeezing, palpating. Hope’s smile deadened, her eyes becoming harsh, jaw set firm. Her shoulders squared, and suddenly the petite woman was huge, commanding, powerful. She slowly scanned the room, the crowd avoiding the steely ocean blue as she took in each person, one by one. Silence hung awkwardly, everyone wanting to leave, everyone wanting to stay for the next inevitable line. When she spoke finally, her words were crystal, prisms of light glowing into the ears of each witness. “You can tell Griffin I’m back. Tell him Hope didn’t go away. And watch your children, your grandchildren, he likes them young. I bet he runs lots of youth groups…”

“Shit, he does as well!” Nobody knew who had had the courage to stilt Hope’s delivery, but a concerned murmur fluttered through the room.

She ignored the rumbling undercurrent. “Tell Griffin that his life is over.”

The Journey Back

They sat, unspeaking. Dawn was feeling light-headed, she’d taken advantage of the free alcohol, justifying it by reminding herself it was Christmas Eve, and she needed Dutch courage. Hope drove, her eyes competently on the dark, unlit road, her mind weaving a mysterious plot, one that would fell the bad guy with the greatest possible devastation to his life. The engine of the luxury car purred like a cuddly, contented kitten, warmth being pumped through the vents to take the vicious edge from the chilly air.

Dawn put her head in her hands, Hope glanced away from the road briefly. “Are you okay?”

She threw her head back, groaning, hands returning to her lap. “Yes, I’m fine, just a headache, I had a few too many sherries back there.” Quiet once more, one beat, two beats, three, and Dawn turned to her client, brow furrowed. “You were great, Hope, but what I don’t understand is why you brought me, I haven’t done anything to help what you’ve done.”

Another pause. “Dawn, I couldn’t have done it without you, you’re my strength. Just knowing you were there gave me the courage to do what I did tonight. I was shitting bricks when I was talking to his wife, what with everyone looking at me, and everything.”

Dawn snorted. “Get away! You were confident as hell! That was nothing to do with me.”

“Yes. It was. Dawn, I feed off you, you give me power, you give me nerves of steel. We’re good for each other, we work together. You’re going to help me get to the top of the world!” Her gentle laughter flowed through the car.

Dawn smiled. Her trusting mind had missed the danger. She was in too deep.

Session Thirteen

Fluorescent lights flooded the building, but with nobody strutting around, paper in hand, ready to pass the time of day or catch up on the soap storylines, it felt soulless. Dawn paced the reception area, backwards and forwards, eager to see Hope, having broken her holiday time for just this one session.

She took one of the steaming mugs of vegetable soup from Gayle’s desk, cupping her hands around the body, feeling the warmth soak into her reddened, dry fingers. It was bitter outside, the northerly gusts blowing at over forty miles per hour, the roads smattered with snow and slush from the past few days. The sun hadn’t bothered to come out properly, streetlights remained on regardless that it was late morning, the heavy, lead clouds hung low, trapping the world in a vicious ice trap.

Hope piled through the door, barely visible beneath the vast quantity of wool mix that shielded her tiny frame from the elements, just the clear blue, and her delicate pink nose, which began to sniffle as soon as the heat hit her. She dug into her coat pocket, retrieving a tatty tissue, which she held by her nose for a minute. Dawn took the second mug, offering it to Hope. “I made you a soup, it’s so cold, I thought you’d need it.” Hope thanked her gratefully, taking the mug in her gloved hands, and they moved into the usual room.

Once they were settled in their chairs, Hope still donning most of her outerwear, waiting to warm up before she dared to shed any, Dawn began the hour. “How was your Christmas?”

Hope nodded, she tugged the woollen hat from her head, smoothing the recently dyed mahogany waves into place. “It was okay. Me, the kids, and my sister and her husband came over for the day with their daughter, they ended up staying the night because Keith had too much to drink.”

“Right.” Dawn took a hefty gulp, chewing lightly on the croutons and reconstituted carrot pieces. “Which sister was it?”

“Charity. Charity, Keith, and their daughter Ava, the one who’s in remission from leukaemia.”

“Yes, I remember now. She had a miscarriage recently, didn’t she?”

Hope peeled the lengthy scarf from her neck, winding it into a ball before dropping it next to her untouched soup. “Yes. She’s on anti-depressants now. To be honest, she’s hard work. I know that miscarriage is hard, I’ve been there, but the thing is, once it happens, there’s nothing you can do about it, it’s gone, over, so why dwell on it. She needs to move on.”

Dawn swallowed hard, buying time, arranging her comeback carefully. “Hope, it’s not as easy as that for some women, repeated miscarriages can be destroying. She probably hasn’t had enough time to grieve yet, it must still be raw.”

Hope waved her hand, dismissive. “Charity has always had it easy up until now, the best of Mum, the best of our father, she had a whirlwind affair with Keith, they got married in Barbados, he’s rich, handsome, they have a gorgeous house in Tunstall, the cars, the lifestyle, everything. So she’s had a few miscarriages, her daughter is recovering from leukaemia, but that’s it, everything else has been good.”

Dawn placed her fingers on her chin, breathing deeply through her nose as she digested the intolerant torrent. “You’re very jealous of her, aren’t you? What is it? The money, that it came to her through marriage rather than hard work like yours did. Or is it the preferable attention she received from your parents? What is it?”

Hope’s eyes were wide, shocked. “I’m not jealous.” The murmur was nearly lost in the clanging of the heating as the pipes warmed up. Hope stood, removing her gloves, and dragging off her coat. Underneath she looked fantastic, the nicest Dawn had ever seen her. A tight lacy top clung to her miniscule curves, a pair of well fitting jeans hugging her legs, and several retro metal and black necklaces hung, accentuating the recently found, or was it revamped, rock chick look. Her hair was in excellent condition, the waves defined, big, bouncy, and her complexion was glowing, healthy. The high stiletto boots, black, mirroring Dawn’s, sealed the image.

Hope folded her coat roughly, and sat back down. Her eyes focused on the mug of soup, but there was no temptation in them, she had no inclination to drink the calorie-laden liquid. “You need to understand Charity, and I’ve only done so in the past few years since she moved up this way. We weren’t close as kids, Faith and I had a lot of resentment towards her, and she deliberately shut herself off from us.”

Dawn was leaning forward, knees together, chin on her hands. “Ah, but which came first, though. If she can feel you resenting her, she’s going to be defensive. And if she’s closed and defensive, you’re going to think her aloof. It’s a chicken and egg situation.”

“No. It was always different, I can’t remember it not being. It was like Mum and Dad were hers only, that she hated them giving us attention, especially Dad. When Mum praised us, she would leap in, stroking her own ego, stealing the attention, and if Mum didn’t go with her, she’d kick up an argument. It happened more and more when she became a teenager, Mum and she used to have physical fights, throwing things, hitting each other, it was horrid.”

“Adolescents can be horrible, Hope, you should know that, your daughter’s thirteen.”

“I know, but Penny’s nothing like that. Hard work, yes, sneaking out at nights to go to gigs, I’ve caught her smoking and drinking on more than one occasion, but she has a healthy respect for me, she’d never hit me. No, Penny’s chilled.”

The conversation halted as Hope collected her thoughts, her eyes wandering as she searched inside her mind. She was quiet, she was addressing herself more than Dawn. “I’ve got to take a look at her diet, she’s been putting on weight recently, she’s quite chubby now. It’s only a bit of puppy fat, but it won’t harm her if I make sure she’s eating properly.” Hope spread herself back in the chair, folding into the comfortable cushion, remembering where they’d been before she diversified. “Charity is a snob, always has been. She’s intolerant, rude, and abrasive. It’s her way. It was the money she missed, the lifestyle, and she was desperate for that back. Keith had to happen, and when she met him he ticked all the right boxes. Ridiculously rich, blond with blue eyes, tall, well built, arrogant, snobbish, and fertile. She hooked him from the first date, he was eaten, there was no way she was letting him get away. They flew forty people over to Barbados when they got married. Forty people. How fucking pretentious is that?”

“Would you have felt it so pretentious if you’d had an invite?”

Hope glared at Dawn, she’d hit a raw nerve, but she wasn’t about to rise to the bait. “Keith sold shares in his business in London, it freed up enough cash for them to buy their luxury house in Tunstall without a mortgage. He still reaps in the profits, but works remotely. Maybe goes to London once a week, he stays at the apartment they have there. With Tunstall only being twenty or so miles from my place, we started to spend more time together, and now we have an understanding of each other. An adult understanding. We’re chalk and cheese, but we can be civil, and even have the occasional laugh.”

Hope ran her fingers through her hair, glancing up when the lights flickered, then at Dawn, who was also watching them. Dawn stepped over to the window, scanning the street. The lights lining the road were also flickering, as were the yellow glows shining from the windows of the other buildings. “It’s notorious for power cuts round here.” Dawn said the words to herself, just as the shimmering died and the room was plunged into a charcoal grey, the two women almost silhouetted in the oppressive darkness. “Oh shit! I’d better try and find a couple of candles.”

Several minutes later Dawn returned, empty-handed, she sat down heavily, crossing her legs. “If you had any idea how many candles I got for Christmas, but they’re all at home, and I can’t find a single one here! Do you mind continuing in this half-light, or would you rather end the session?”