I watched Aneira pace up and down when she arrived home. Seeing Peter and Ianto had unsettled her. She needed to get out. Alun didn’t have a job, so they would be able to spend the day together. I heard her tell Marian that she was going into Bangor and watched as Alun furtively came to pick her up at the bottom of the lane. They drove into Beaumaris.
Although they didn’t have much money, there was enough for a couple of large flagons of cheap cider and a bag of chips, so they walked down to the end of the pier and bagged themselves a covered bench facing the sea to enjoy their purchase. It was relatively quiet, so, my unseen surveillance aside, they were unobserved. They ate the chips and then started to drink. I could feel Aneira’s relief when the effects of the alcohol started to kick in.
‘What’s up, sweet pea?’ drawled Alun, as she necked back the amber liquid. ‘You’ve got a proper thirst on today!’ Looking round, he produced a ready-rolled spliff from his shirt pocket. He lowered his voice. ‘Tommy had one going begging, so I wasn’t going to say no!’
Aneira giggled. She wasn’t used to taking recreational drugs, and had resisted trying anything initially. But Alun was very persuasive, and although she knew her mother would go berserk if she found out, it was a pastime she was beginning to enjoy. After all, it wasn’t doing anyone any harm. They shared the joint and I watched as she started to unwind properly. I felt apprehensive on her part; the lack of self-control induced by the alcohol and cannabis seemed to start warning bells ringing somewhere deep within me. But I was powerless to intervene.
‘It’s that bloody Peter Roberts,’ I heard her telling Alun. ‘He’s coming to stay with the Parrys today. I saw him this morning. He’s made a play for our Ianto. I’m so angry about it. I wish he’d just piss off back to wherever he comes from.’
‘He’s really getting to you, isn’t he?’ Alun looked thoughtful. He took another drag of the weed. ‘Maybe I should warn him off, be your knight in shining armour and all that …’
Aneira shook her head vigorously. She didn’t want Alun getting involved, knowing that things could probably turn very nasty. ‘No, I can’t have you fighting my battles for me. I’ll go and see him later, tell him exactly what I think of him. It’s all building up inside me. I need to get it off my chest.’
‘And what a lovely chest it is!’
Aneira threw back her head and laughed as Alun leaned forward and buried his stubbly face in her breasts. She ran her hands through his wavy hair. I felt her light-headedness and exhilaration, and knew that suddenly she didn’t care about Peter Roberts any more. He could take a running jump as far as she was concerned. It was a pleasant feeling that I shared. I seemed to be hovering aimlessly, somewhere between reality and this uncanny, dream-like state.
I watched as they sat, talking and kissing for what seemed like hours, but may have been only minutes. I had no real concept of time. Once they had finished the cider, they staggered back to Alun’s old van, which was parked near the back of the castle. They collapsed, tittering helplessly, onto the back seat.
One moment I was inside the van, the next looking in from the outside. It was bizarre. It was as if I were waiting for something to happen.
They had been asleep, apparently for some time, when a loud rap on the window made them jump. Rubbing her eyes, Aneira could scarcely believe it: dusk had begun to fall.
She wound down the window. I could tell her head was throbbing.
‘Oi, boy bach, you can’t stay there,’ an irate parking attendant informed Alun. ‘We’re locking up. And your ticket expired three hours ago. I should book you really.’
‘All right, mate, keep your hair on,’ Alun told him. ‘I’ll shift now.’
He climbed into the front and turned the key in the ignition, driving off before the man had chance to change his mind.
‘Let’s go to the pub,’ Alun suggested. ‘My brother’ll be in there. He’s always good for a couple of quid when I’m short.’
Aneira was obviously feeling a little the worse for wear, but didn’t really want to go home. They went to the local pub and stayed for longer than they should have. I sat beside them, unobserved. By now she had drunk far more than she was accustomed to, and began to dwell on the subject of Peter once more. It troubled me. She began to ramble on and on about him, how he’d made her life a misery; how he always seemed to come up smelling of roses and no one seemed to know what he was really like. She was becoming increasingly animated. Eventually, Alun put up his palm sharply in front of her face.
‘Right; enough! I’m taking you round to see the fucker,’ he told her resolutely. ‘You can have it out with him once and for all.’
*
He was well over the limit, but Aneira was past caring. They pulled up outside Tyddyn Bach. The lights were on, so she knew Peter wasn’t over at the farmhouse.
Fired up now, she told Alun to wait in the van and hammered on the living room window.
I watched as Peter unlocked the door and smirked. I had a terrible feeling that Aneira’s visit to the cottage was a big mistake.
‘Well, look what the cat dragged in,’ he said sarcastically, looking her up and down. ‘What do you want?’
I could feel that Aneira was itching to slap his face – and I echoed her sentiments. His expression was mocking and defiant.
‘Stay – away – from my brother!’ I heard her shout at him. ‘I saw you earlier and I … I know your game. He doesn’t need to be mixing with scum like you …’
Aneira appeared to wobble a little, the effects of the drink having taken their toll on her balance. She clutched at the door frame to steady herself. Peter laughed scornfully. It made me angry.
‘I’m so glad Glyn can’t see you now,’ he said, ignoring her statement. ‘What a disappointment you would have been to him …’
She was livid. ‘Don’t you dare bring my Glyn into this …’ she began, trying not to slur her words.
‘Your Glyn? As I recall, you certainly never owned him. And even if he had walked you down the aisle, there would’ve been nothing to say that he belonged to you. What planet are you on?’
‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ she screamed at him. Her cheeks were burning. ‘You keep turning up like a bad penny. Even now Glyn’s gone, you just can’t stay away. Aren’t you capable of making a life for yourself where you live – or has everyone got wise to you down there?’
‘Me, making a life for myself?’ His tone was contemptuous, measured. ‘That’s rich, coming from the widow that never was. What are you still doing, coming to the farm all the time, playing at being the doting daughter-in-law? Did you forget you were never married? You have no claim on anything here. The Parrys have been my friends my whole life. Nothing will ever change that. You’re nothing to them without Glyn. It’s about time you found some other poor sap to sponge off – or won’t anybody else have you?’
Aneira was speechless with rage. She realized that this was a futile exercise. He couldn’t care less what she thought, about anything, and after all that she had drunk, she was having difficulty articulating exactly what she wanted to say. There was no reasoning with him, and any argument she raised, he would just turn the tables on her. She felt like spitting at him, but resisted the temptation.
Fighting back tears, she was about to return to the van when she heard footsteps, and turned to find the glare of a torch beam full in her face. Raising her hand to shield her eyes, Aneira saw Will, standing there in his dressing-gown and carrying a shotgun, of all things. What on earth did he think she was going to do?
‘Aneira? Is that you?’ he said, squinting. ‘What the hell are you playing at, girl?’
‘She’s drunk, Will,’ Peter butted in hurriedly. ‘I think she just needs to go home and sleep it off …’
At this point, Alun, presumably having seen the shotgun, revved up his engine and started to pull away along the drive. He stopped about halfway down and sounded the horn.
Tears of fury and frustration were pouring down Aneira’s face now. My heart went out to her. Will, seeing that she was upset, put down the gun and approached her.
‘Come on, now, it can’t be as bad as all that. Whatever’s wrong with you?’
‘Ask him!’ she yelled. I watched as she turned and ran back down the drive to Alun, sobbing.
‘Drive!’ I heard her shout at him. ‘Just drive!’ She was shaking with anger.
As they rumbled down the track, Aneira turned to look at Alun. He looked pale and anxious.
‘Why did you start driving off back there?’ she asked in exasperation. ‘I thought you were supposed to be my knight in shining armour? Fat lot of good you are in a crisis.’
He sighed. ‘Don’t be like that, sweet pea. Look, I’ve had a skinful – if the old man had called the police out I’d have lost my licence – or worse. I could do without it, thanks – I’ve already got a record. Come on – let’s get you home. You need to get some rest – you’ll feel better in the morning.’
Aneira was evidently still fuming. She kept turning Peter’s words over in her mind. Implying that she was some sort of parasite. How dare he! She couldn’t leave it like that, with him feeling all smug and thinking he’d put one over on her. She had to go back.
The headlights flashed on the cattle grid. Alun pulled up sharply as Aneira wrestled with the door handle. He tried to stop her from leaving, but as the door opened she struggled and almost fell out onto the path. Picking herself up, she started to run back up the drive. Alun shouted after her through the open window.
‘Go home!’ she called to him over her shoulder. ‘I’ll ring you in the morning.’
I heard the clatter of wheels over the metal bars and then he was gone.
I watched as Aneira produced the key to the cottage from her pocket. I realized then that she intended to let herself in and confront Peter. She planned what she would say – she wasn’t having a creep like him preying on her brother. Ianto was a good lad and deserved better. If the Parrys knew what he was up to, he certainly wouldn’t be welcome there in future. That would scupper his plans.
I watched with some trepidation as Aneira turned the key in the lock and went in. The sight of Peter standing in the living room galvanized her into action. She rushed through the open doorway.
‘You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?’ I heard her bellow. ‘I bet you told Will how “nice and reasonable” you were and how you “just couldn’t understand” what was wrong with me and why I was being so vile. Oh, what an evil bitch I am!’
Peter sniggered. ‘Yup, you said it,’ he responded. ‘You’ve pretty much shit in the nest there. I don’t think old Will was too impressed with your behaviour. You might have to find someone else to clean for in future …’
‘And you might have to find another family to play cuckoo with,’ she replied, suddenly gaining confidence. ‘Once he finds out you’ve been using his house for your seedy business, I think he’s going to see you in a different light. How many other men have you brought here over the years? And you’d better stay away from Ianto or I’ll be telling him all about you – giving old men blow jobs for pin money. He might catch something nasty.’
Peter looked stunned. His mouth dropped open but no words came out. She was unstoppable now.
‘Yes, I know all about your sordid past,’ she went on. ‘Carys told me years ago. Stealing from her family, too. How despicable! I could’ve told Glyn but I didn’t want to hurt him. He wouldn’t have thanked me for telling him something like that about his best mate. You’re a fucking lowlife. And Gwen and Will deserve to know the truth …’
Everything happened very quickly then. His rage having reached fever pitch, Peter’s arm was now raised in the air and, powerless to offer assistance, I watched in horror as a sudden heavy, stinging blow rained down on Aneira’s head. She staggered and fell to the floor.
‘You vile bitch!’ I heard him scream. ‘I’ll shut you up for good!’
Years of pent-up anger and hatred spilled from him now. The wind was visibly knocked from Aneira as the thud of his boot connected viciously with her stomach, over and over again. Her whole body seemed to convulse violently with the cruel impact of each strike. Like a man possessed, wild-eyed and puce-faced, Peter harnessed every ounce of strength he could muster to vent his fury. His expression was maniacal, the sadistic pleasure he derived from his actions evident.
I had never seen such unrestrained, raw barbarity. It was abhorrent. Eventually Aneira lay, unmoving and tellingly silent. The rain of blows had finally ceased and Peter stood back to admire his handiwork.
*
I was suddenly aware of looking down from the ceiling in the corner of the room; it was an odd perspective. I could see Peter standing with his head in his hands. I found this a mildly amusing sight. But then my attention was turned back to Aneira, who was stretched out, motionless, on the floor at his feet. There was a pool of blood by her head. A metal bar of some sort lay on the ground next to her body. And I knew then for certain that she was dead – and that I had been the only witness to her murder.
I felt momentarily panic-stricken. I didn’t seem able to move from this unusual elevated position. But then somebody else entered the room.
Peter became very agitated. It was clear that there were raised voices, although everything was strangely muffled, as though I were listening through glass. Peter appeared to be pleading with the other individual, who seemed to be in a dilemma. I felt at first hopeful then utterly sickened as I realized that the other person – someone I had recognized instantly and had come to know – did not intend to turn on Peter or call the police. That Peter could have been helped to cover up such a cold-hearted, vile act by someone I had thought of as a decent human being was beyond belief.
Incredulously, I watched in horror as Peter and his visitor started to drag the body across the floor. At once, I followed them out of the room and up the stairs. I screamed at them, but they could neither see nor hear me. It was surreal; I was watching Aneira’s killer and his – his collaborator – dispose of her mortal remains.
How could they? She was being pushed and pulled across the bedroom floor. Her head and arms flopped like a rag doll’s as the two of them attempted to wrap her in something, before heaving the body into what looked like a trunk in the attic. The closed lid and the bolted door meant that she would be lost to the world for eternity.
His accomplice now departed, there was a flurry of activity as Peter attempted to remove the streaks of blood from the bedroom and the stair carpet. I looked on as he picked up the metal bar from the living room floor and went out into the night. I attempted to follow him but, try as I might, could not seem to leave the cottage. I was overcome by a debilitating weakness.
I watched helplessly as, oblivious to my presence, Aneira’s troubled spirit flitted from room to room, waiting in vain for him to return. I could sense that she had no concept of time. Her consciousness waxed and waned; I saw that, for her, days must have passed, as light turned to shade and vice versa. My heart went out to her. Was this to be the extent of her existence now? Trapped alone in some nightmarish limbo whilst her body began to putrefy and stink, destined to lie undiscovered for evermore.
And all the time, Peter Roberts could carry on as though nothing had happened. Breezing through life, running roughshod over anyone who dared to cross him or stand in his way. When was he going to be properly punished for what he had done? And when was Will Parry going to realize the error of his ways and confess his part in abetting the callous disposal of the girl who was once engaged to his only son?