Swansea Girls (47 page)

Roy watched her crumple back on the chair. Not knowing how to help, he sat and watched her, wishing he could turn the clock back to a wartime afternoon in Swansea police station so he could lie to a Cockney prostitute who’d been sent down from Cardiff and tell her that the child she had abandoned had frozen to death in the street four hours after she had left her.

The telephone began to ring again and he ignored it. John had given him the message but whatever was going on at the station, he wanted no part of it. Swansea could collapse as far as he was concerned. Just like his and Lily’s world.

‘Scrambled eggs, à la Powell, with fried tomatoes, beans and toast?’ Brian asked, turning to Jack, Katie and Martin who were sitting round the kitchen table in the basement as if there’d been a third funeral in the house.

‘I’m not hungry,’ Katie answered as he looked at her.

‘That’s because you have no idea just how delicious my cooking is. Come on,’ he cajoled, ‘you have to eat something.’

‘There’s a mountain of sandwiches left upstairs.’

‘I want something more substantial before my shift and so do you.’

‘Just some toast, then,’ Katie capitulated.

‘It’s worth saying yes so you’ll keep that pinny on,’ Jack mocked. ‘It looks good with the uniform.’

‘Like it?’ Brian turned to show off the floral apron he’d cadged off Lily the week before. ‘The duty sergeant will have my guts for garters if I turn up with grease spots on my trousers.’

‘So you turn up in drag instead.’

‘Damn that bloody telephone,’ Martin cursed. ‘Doesn’t it ever stop ringing?’

‘I think Roy is in the kitchen with Lily.’

‘How can they ignore it?’ Picking up his coat from the back of his chair, he rose to his feet. ‘I’m going down the pub.’

‘Peace,’ Jack smiled, as the ringing finally stopped.

‘You spoke too early.’ It started again before Martin could open the front door.

‘I’ll answer it.’ Brian set aside the eggs he’d been beating. Taking the narrow basement stairs two at a time, he reached the telephone the second it stopped ringing. Cursing, he waited a moment. He could hear voices in the kitchen. It was something that Roy had managed to get Lily to talk; earlier he’d wondered how anyone could recover from a shattering experience like the one Lily’s mother had put her through.

The telephone began to ring again as he was halfway back down the stairs. Almost falling over himself, he returned and grabbed it.

‘Roy Williams’ house.’

‘Who is this?’ barked a familiar voice.

‘Constable Brian Powell, Sergeant.’

‘What the hell’s going on there? I’ve left six messages for Roy ...’

‘There’s been a bit of crisis, Sergeant.’

‘I’ll say there has. Ernie Clay’s been released.’

‘Released from prison?’ Brian couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

‘That’s what I said. You’d better let Roy and the Clay children know immediately.’

‘Yes, Sergeant.’

‘And don’t use that as an excuse to be late for your shift.’

‘No, Sergeant.’ Replacing the telephone on the chest of drawers, Brian walked to the kitchen; he could hear Roy and Lily talking. Hating having to disturb them, he tapped on the door.

‘That’s Helen,’ Katie left the table at a knock on the door. ‘She said she was going to call in later.’

‘Talk to her for a minute, sis, I want to comb my hair.’

‘You won’t be able to do that when you’re married.’ She smiled, opening the door. The smile froze on her lips as her father stepped down into the room. Dumping a brown-paper bag on the table, he swayed as he turned to look at her.

‘Making tea for me?’ He peered at the eggs Brian had been beating. ‘They told you I’d be out this morning, then.’

‘No.’ Too terrified to speak, Katie mouthed the word as she shrank away from him.

‘Well, here I am. I’ll have my tea, then I’ll be off out. You got money?’

Katie shook her head.

‘Yes, you have. Come on, a couple of quid for your old dad.’

‘No!’ Walking backwards, she slammed into a chair, knocking it over.

‘Don’t you dare defy me like your stupid bitch of a mother.’ He jabbed a finger into her chest, sending her reeling against the door. ‘I knew her tricks, keeping money from me just so she could have a big bloody do of a funeral, leaving me without two halfpennies to rub together to toast her passing. A word of warning, missy, don’t even think about it ...’ Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook her like a rat.

‘Touch her again and I’ll kill you.’ Jack pushed Katie behind him and closed his hands into fists.

‘You bastard. Raise your hand to me like your brother ...’ Ernie dealt Jack a blow that sent him hurtling across the kitchen into the bath. Katie screamed and Ernie turned on her.

‘Always whining, just like your bloody mother.’ Lifting his hand, he stood over her before lashing out with all his strength.

Chapter Twenty-five

Brian, Roy and Lily all heard the screams coming from the basement, but although Brian was nearest, Roy was first down the stairs. Someone was already hammering on the outside door but Roy stood transfixed in the passage, trying to take in the horrific scene in the kitchen. ‘Just a minute,’ he shouted, as the banging grew more frenetic.

‘Roy!’

Roy took command as he sprang to life. ‘Go upstairs, John. Lily will let you in through our front door. Lily, call an ambulance, let Mr Griffiths in and stay upstairs.’ Blocking the door and Lily’s view of the kitchen, Roy turned first to Jack who was lying next to the bath, his head covered in blood, his arm bent high, at an unnatural angle behind his back. ‘Don’t try to move, boy.’

Ignoring the directive, Jack struggled to sit up. ‘Katie ...’

Roy looked at the girl who was standing with her back pressed against the wall, too traumatised to move or speak. Seeing no obvious wounds, he finally studied Ernie. He was lying on his back on the floor between his son and daughter, the knife Brian had been using to cut bread sticking out of his chest.

‘Is he dead?’ Sickened, Brian averted his head.

‘Keep back,’ Roy ordered sternly, stepping into the room.

‘I killed him,’ Jack shouted hysterically. ‘I took the knife and killed him, he was trying to hit me ... I killed him ... I ...’

‘Quiet, Jack!’ Kneeling beside Ernie, Roy checked the pulse in his neck. Quite certain he was dead, he pulled a tea towel from the back of a chair, covered his hand with it, and slowly and deliberately wiped the knife from the tip of the handle down to where the blade protruded from Ernie’s chest. Then he lifted Ernie’s hand and folded it round the handle, pressing the dead man’s fingers tight against the black plastic. ‘It’s obvious what happened here, Jack. I can smell the drink on your father. He must have spent all day since his release in the pub. Then he came here, attacked you and your sister, and when you tried to protect Katie, he picked up the knife. Too drunk to stand, he fell on it when Katie stepped away from him. I was here in time to see him fall on it.’

‘You saw ...’

‘I saw it happen, Brian,’ Roy repeated. Straightening up, he kicked Ernie over with the toe of his boot until he was lying face down on the floor. ‘That’s not an indication of what I feel for him. I can’t touch a body with my hands for fear of contaminating evidence. Brian?’ He stuffed the tea towel into his pocket as he looked at the young man. ‘Did you see what I saw too?’

‘No ...’

‘Of course not, how could you?’ He looked Brian in the eye. ‘You were behind me. But you do agree that’s what happened here.’

Brian glanced at Jack, battered, bruised and broken on the floor, Katie paralysed, staring blankly with round, unblinking eyes.

‘Do you agree, Brian?’ Roy pressed sternly.

‘That ...’

‘Do you agree?’

Brian gazed at Katie and saw the blood on her right hand.

‘Do you agree?’
Roy repeated heatedly.

‘I agree,’ Brian whispered. He couldn’t argue against the justice of what Roy was doing, but it went against everything he believed in and had been taught in training school. What price fair dealing for all, irrespective of who they were and what they’d done, if a solitary constable could act as judge and jury, settling a case before it even reached court?

‘Take Katie-to the sink; wash her hands, then the sink – thoroughly. Don’t leave any traces. Dry her hands in her skirt. She shouldn’t have tried to help her father, but it’s an instinctive reaction even when casualties are beyond assistance. Then take her upstairs and telephone the station. Tell them there has been an incident and an accidental death...’

‘I’ll take care of Katie.’

He looked up to see John standing in the doorway.

‘How long have you been there?’

‘John ...’ Screaming and sobbing, Katie flung herself into John Griffiths’ arms. ‘I killed ...’

‘I just heard Mr Williams explain how your father fell on the knife he was holding when you stepped away from him. That’s not killing him, Katie.’

‘I ...’

‘She needs to be sedated, John.’

‘I’ll phone my own doctor.’

‘Tell him Katie is traumatised and needs heavy sedation ...’

‘I know what to do.’

‘Don’t leave Katie alone for a moment before he gets here or allow her to talk to anyone else.’

Avoiding touching her hands, John laid his arm round her shoulders. ‘Come with me, sweetheart,’ he murmured gently, taking her to the sink. Washing and drying her fingers, just as he would a child’s, he led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Roy turned his attention to Jack. ‘I told you to lie still. Move again and you could do that arm a lot of damage.’

‘Katie and Mr Griffiths ...’

‘He’ll look after her.’

‘And my father?’ Jack stared at the body humped over the knife, the blood oozing thickly on to the tiled floor.

‘You heard what I said to Constable Powell. First thing I learned as a young copper was the least said, the sooner the case file will be closed. The last thing we need is any false heroics or confessions from you. Right?’

‘Right,’ Jack murmured as he passed out.

Realising he had little choice but to trust John, Roy stayed in the basement kitchen. He sent the first constable on the scene down to the pub to fetch Martin, and asked Brian to accompany Jack to the hospital and wait until he came round, so he could caution him again against saying anything more than he had outlined about the events leading up to his father’s death. Just as he’d closed the ambulance doors on Jack, Martin and Brian, the sergeant arrived.

He answered his superior’s questions clearly and concisely, persuading him that neither Katie nor Jack had anything of value to add to his and Brian’s version of events and as both needed medical attention before they could make a statement it would be as well to leave their questioning until the morning. John’s doctor came down to the basement, confirming that he’d no choice but to sedate Katie and she was unfit for questioning.

After the forensic team arrived, the sergeant returned to the station. Roy waited, watching the team work and supervising the removal of Ernie’s corpse when they gave the go-ahead to remove his body. Finally, after the last of the team left, Roy cleaned the basement, washing the blood from the floor with hot water and bleach, but even after he’d changed the water half a dozen times and scrubbed until his arms ached, he felt the place would never be clean again. The last thing he did was remove the tea towel from his pocket and flush it down the outside toilet with the bleach water he’d used to clean the kitchen floor.

It was three in the morning before he finally returned upstairs. Lily was sitting in his kitchen and Brian was making tea.

‘Katie with Martin and Jack?’ he asked.

‘They kept Jack in hospital,’ Brian revealed flatly.

‘You saw him?’

‘I saw him and the sergeant back at the station. He said as you and I were first on the scene it would be appropriate for us to take Jack’s and Katie’s statements.’ Unable to look Roy in the eye, Brian lifted three cups and saucers on to the tray.

‘Is John Griffiths still with her?’

‘And Martin, Uncle Roy. The doctor gave her something to make her sleep but she woke up about an hour ago.’

‘Has she said anything?’ Roy looked at Brian.

‘No, but she can’t stop crying. I thought tea might help.’

‘I’ll take it in, boy. Why don’t you two get to bed? You look done in and there’s nothing left for either of you to do.’

Lily left the chair without argument and walked to the stairs.

‘Is it all right for me to go downstairs?’ Brian asked.

Roy nodded. ‘Forensic have finished with the place. I cleaned it up as best I could but it could probably do with another going over tomorrow. Brian?’ he called after him softly as he went to the door. ‘Thank you for your help tonight. I couldn’t have managed without you.’

Brian remained silent.

‘You disapprove?’

Brian hesitated, looked down the passage, then closed the door. ‘What about the law?’

‘What about an eighteen-year-girl who’s been terrorised all her life by a drunken father who battered her mother’s life away inch by painful inch? You think the law would be best served by hanging her?’

‘There were mitigating circumstances. She could have pleaded manslaughter ...’

‘And ended up serving ten years or more in jail. Have you been inside a women’s prison? Seen the whores, thieves and criminals she would have had to live with?’

‘No, but then it’s all hypothetical, isn’t it? The sergeant told me it’s an open-and-shut case.’

‘You won’t talk to anyone?’

‘What could I possibly tell them when I was behind you and didn’t see what happened? Goodnight, Constable Williams.’

The room was warm and luxurious, the bed comfortable, but Joe couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes the whisky he’d downed earlier rose sourly within him and he saw Lily’s mother, hag-like, cackling, hovering before him, and behind him, Lily, pale, beautiful, an almost unbearable anguish dimming the tawny light in her eyes. Why hadn’t he ignored Robin’s advice and gone back and tried to see her? What did it matter that his friends wouldn’t speak to him if he had Lily? His job – that was it, his job, he had to work. Could he cope with ostracism, with moving away – would Lily even want to move away and if they did, could they ever escape that dreadful woman ...?

‘Joseph?’

Acutely aware that his chest was bare, he pulled the sheet to his chin. The pyjamas he’d borrowed from Robin had been several sizes too small and he’d settled for the half-mast trousers. ‘Angie, you shouldn’t be here.’

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

She switched on the bedside light and slipped the straps of the nightdress she was wearing from her shoulders. ‘No one will know.’ She smiled, as it settled around her feet in a silken whisper. ‘They’re all asleep. Besides, Mums and Pops are used to turning a blind eye. Em sleeps in Robin’s bed whenever she stays over.’ Turning back the sheet, she stepped out of the puddle of silk and lace, and slid in beside him.

‘For God’s sake, Angie ...’ Rolling over, he fell out of bed in his haste to get away from her.

‘Shh, you’ll wake everyone.’

Grabbing his clothes, he went to the door.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the bathroom to dress.’

‘It’s three in the morning. You can’t go home ...’

‘Watch me.’

‘How will you get there?’

‘Walk.’

‘Darling Joseph, so moral and so bourgeois. Robin warned me you might be.’ Leaving the bed, she went to him and wrapped her arms round his waist, inching them lower. ‘Just a bit of fun ...’

‘No!’ Furious, he pushed her away. It didn’t matter that she was naked, or offering herself to him – nothing mattered except Lily and that he get back to her. Jerking open the bedroom door, he ran down to the bathroom, turning the key in the lock as soon as he closed the door behind him.

‘Tea.’ Roy carried the tray into the parlour and set it on the table. He glanced from John, who was sitting on the sofa cradling Katie’s head in his lap, to Martin.

‘Thanks,’ Martin replied tersely, glaring at John.

‘Katie?’ Roy murmured gently, looking at the girl.

She burst into tears. Roy crouched before her. ‘Look, love, it wasn’t your fault ...’

‘I killed him ...’

‘No you didn’t. I know you stepped back, but if you hadn’t he would have fallen on you and the knife he was holding would have gone into him anyway. It was inevitable the way he was holding it ...’

‘I ...’ She stared blankly as her mind groped for the truth but she was too drugged and exhausted to know what it was any more.

‘It was an accident, love. An accident caused by drink. You and Jack may have to make statements in a few days but after I made my statement tonight the sergeant agreed it’s an open-and-shut case. Accidental death of a drunk.’

‘I didn’t ...’

‘You didn’t do anything, love. Believe me. I’ll take you to see Jack tomorrow. If anyone can convince you he will. He was there too, remember. Now, how about getting some sleep? I’ll take you up to Lily.’

‘I really didn’t kill him?’

‘No, love, you didn’t.’

‘John ... Martin ...’

‘Get some sleep, Katie. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ John opened the door as Roy helped her out of the room. He closed it and turned to Martin after Roy had left. ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t want you to find out about Katie and me until I was in a position to offer her a wedding ring.’

‘Are you insane? You’re old enough to be her father!’

‘I love her, she loves me, I hoped you’d understand ...’

‘Understand! I understand all right. That a man your age – with your problems – would want to take advantage of a young, innocent girl Katie’s age! God, when I think of it I could strangle you. Jack and I thought you were being kind – giving her a job with decent money, taking her back and for to work in your car, arranging Mam’s funeral – and all the time you were planning to seduce her.’

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘Then what was it like, Mr Griffiths?’

‘Please, not so loud, she’ll hear you.’

‘I hope she does. Perhaps then she’ll come to her senses...’

As Martin railed, John tried to find words to describe what he felt for Katie and what he thought she felt for him, but every phrase that sprang to mind sounded hackneyed or, even worse, sordid, as though he were some corrupt, ageing Lothario and Katie an ingenuous child. When the sound of a step on the stairs finally silenced Martin, John said the one thing he felt needed to be explained above all else: ‘Katie had nothing to do with the divorce proceedings against my wife. I honestly never thought of Katie that way until ...’

‘When?’ Martin snapped.

‘A couple of days ago. I drove Katie to the cemetery to put flowers on your mother’s grave; she would never have got there before it closed otherwise. Afterwards ... she told me she loved me.’

‘And you believed her! She’s a child. Our mother’s just died; our father was in prison. Her idea of love is someone who’ll hold her, cuddle her, look after her. She didn’t understand what she was saying.’