Chapter 32: Richard Schormann

Ashford: Saturday, September 27th

Richard couldn’t sleep. Two o’clock and still wide awake. The whistling in his ears was driving him mad, he’d hoped the last operation would stop it, but it hadn’t. He pushed the heels of his hands against them and pressed hard. It didn’t make any difference. It was always the same when he was stressed. He dragged the pillows higher against the headboard and pushed himself up in the bed.

The room was dark, the unfamiliar furniture vague shapes around him. He fumbled around, feeling for his hearing-aids on the table next to the bed. When he’d adjusted them the whistling was muffled under the night sounds around him: a train in the distance, Ted snoring in the next room, a catfight somewhere. He looked across the room to William’s bed. He wasn’t there. Richard remembered he’d said he was staying over at his girlfriend’s house. Crossing to the window he peered through the curtains. More dark shapes: the yard walls, the houses beyond the alleyway, no moon. Black clouds pressed down over the house, threatening rain.

He shivered. Moving cautiously towards the door, he pulled on his dressing gown. His mouth was dry and he wondered if he would wake anybody if he went downstairs to get a drink of water. One of the top treads always gave out a loud creak but he couldn’t remember which one.

The cold anxiety stayed with him. Coming face to face with George Worth as they came out of the cinema in Manchester had been a shock.

Richard saw the wide-eyed panic in Karen’s face, pasty in the fluorescent lights of the front of the building. People shoved past them, a constant movement that shifted them this way and that. He gripped Karen’s arm, drawing her closer to him. He was taller than the angry-looking man blocking their way but the overcoat made George Worth bulkier, more solid in comparison to Richard and the thought flashed through his mind that he was no match for Karen’s stepfather. None of them spoke; they were a moment of stillness in the flowing crowd.

Then: ‘Who’s this?’ The curt question caused Karen to straighten but before she spoke Richard held out his hand towards the man. If he could catch him off-guard perhaps they’d be able to get away quicker.

‘Richard Schormann. I’m … a friend of Karen’s.’ The muscle’s around Richard’s mouth, forcing the smile, loosened when he saw the increased hostility. He let his hand drop to his side.

‘Who?’

‘Richard Schormann. I’m a friend of Karen’s. We’ve just been to the pictures, isn’t it,’ he added, knowing he was stating the obvious.

What was wrong with the man? His jaw jutted aggressively; he was bunching and flexing his fingers.

‘He’s my boyfriend.’ Karen’s tone was low but defiant. Richard saw her glance from side to side as though looking for a way out from the confrontation.

George Worth took a step forward, pushed his face at her. ‘Get home. Now.’

The belligerence sickened Richard. Without thinking, he put himself between them. ‘Hey, don’t talk to her like that—’

‘And you,’ George Worth moved closer to Richard, prodding him on the chest, ‘you really don’t want to talk to me like that.’ His breath hot and stinking of beer. ‘You really don’t.’

Karen stepped back. ‘Come on, Richard, come away.’ She tugged at his arm.

The pavement was clear around them now. At the entrance of the cinema the doorman gave a discreet cough. ‘Everything in order, miss?’

‘Yes … thanks.’ She smiled at the man. ‘Richard?’

He walked away from her stepfather. He’d never been so angry. When the man shouted again, ‘Get home,’ Richard half turned.

‘No,’ Karen muttered. ‘Keep going.’

They’d hardly spoken on the way back to Ashford. Before getting out of the car at the end of Henshaw Street, Richard studied her. She was pale.

‘You’ll be all right?’

She didn’t smile when she reached across to kiss him. ‘I’ll be fine.’

Richard hadn’t believed Karen; the man was unmistakably dangerous. And when the loud banging on the front door started he instinctively knew it was her. He took the stairs two at a time, closely followed by Ted.

‘What the heck?’

‘I think it might be Karen.’

‘Why?’ Ted snapped the hall light on.

‘Ted?’ Ellen was peering around the bedroom door, Linda alongside her on the landing.

‘Stay there.’ Ted reached around Richard to take the bolt off the door.

Karen stood on the doorstep, her face streaked with tears.