Chapter 29

 

“Is that the boy, young Johnnie?”

The voice was more definitely familiar than the figure, though now, the tone sounded high and excited, rather than laconic. The most worrying thing was what she carried, down by her side. A knife. A blood-stained knife.

“Where’s his mother, or more to the point, his father?”

She seems to have forgotten she was holding the knife. Edith didn’t know whether that made the situation worse or better. “Mrs. Braithwaite won’t be home yet, she’s had a small accident. Doctor Horton is seeing to her. That’s why I met John from the school bus, to bring him home to his sister.” Edith said it deliberately, trying to keep it normal and not betray how sick with worry about Cathy, she was.

“I wouldn’t go to the house, if I were you…especially the child.”

She laughed then and with sick recognition, Edith saw and heard madness. Forget her own sojourn in St. Bride’s. Maybe even Esther Kirk’s years of institutionalisation were a result of life circumstances. But, this woman was truly and dangerously mad.

She put her arm around John’s shoulder, as casually as she could manage. She had to see what the woman had done to Cathy, but she could not put John at any more risk. Edith fought her down her own demons. She fought the hardest battle she had faced, to keep calm and to think straight.

Don’t ask about Cathy. Get the woman to go. Then she could go on to the cottage and face whatever was there. But, maybe delay could mean life or death. Or was Cathy already dead? I can’t let myself think that, Edith grappled with her mind, trying to keep her eyes on Caroline Butler and keep John as close to her as she could. It probably was too late for Cathy. Something told her that, something about the flat tone that had replaced the excited voice, when Caroline had referred to her.

She needed to keep John safe. “Do you want to come back to the cottage with us, maybe have a cup of tea?” This was crazy, but maybe by suggesting that, Caroline would do the opposite. Sure enough, she was shaking her head decisively.

“No, I must go…my brother will be waiting for me.” She frowned and then looked down at the knife and flung it a few feet away from her, as if to disown it and disassociate herself from whatever it was that she had done.

“You go up to the house,” said Caroline, “I’ll look after the boy, until his mother gets back. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, John?”

Oh, God. So far, John hadn’t spoken a word, but she could feel his rigidity against her arm. “I can’t leave him, Caroline. His mother would be upset with me. I don’t dare let him out of my sight.”

“Think I’m stupid?” Caroline spat the words out.

Things had taken a big turn for the worst.

“I’ll tell you what,” Caroline said, still with that new viciousness in her tone. “We’ll all go back to the cottage, wait for one or other of the parents to show up. As she spoke, Caroline edged toward the knife, all the time keeping her eyes on the other pair.

This is my one and only chance. She shouted at John, “Run!” Then she launched herself at the woman. If she could just hold her, somehow…help must come at some point.

The conversation she’d had with Julia on their walk flashed through her brain. She was older and far less fit than the other woman was and this was instantly apparent.

Within seconds, it seemed, she lay on the ground with Caroline straddling her, teeth drawn back and spittle in the corner of her mouth. Edith saw big teeth fasten over her bottom lip and Caroline raised her hand, the hand again holding the knife.

Edith managed to free one arm and drew it up to shield her face.

* * *

John ran, not towards home, but towards other people. Tears streamed down his face. He should have gone to find his sister. He felt as though he would choke, because of the tears and because he was running as fast as he could.

A man’s hand stopped him, a big man’s hand on his shoulder. “John, what’s the matter? Where are they?”

“Outside home…this woman with a knife…a horrible woman …She’s hurt my sister.”

“John, listen to me. Go into the shop, into the Misses Sowerby’s shop. Tell them I said to telephone the police. Tell the police to go to your house. Do exactly as I say, John, now. Do you understand?”

The boy nodded once, and ran on, the sound of his sobs still reaching Archie Horton’s ears.

Archie had just about dealt with Hannah Braithwaite, when his aunt Alicia had telephoned.

Mrs. Braithwaite was lying on the sofa in the sitting room, highly embarrassed, but following orders. The tartan rug was now over her legs and she sat up drinking a cup of tea.

“Listen, Aunt Alicia, this isn’t the best time. I’m sorry. I’ve got a patient…”

“No, Archie, you listen to me. I had a strange visit today, a very strange visit from Caroline Butler. Not right, if you ask me, not right at all. Distinctly odd. I want you to warn Mrs. Braithwaite. She was on her way round there, to find Mrs. Braithwaite’s husband…I tried to tell her he wasn’t there, but…”

Archie didn’t even attempt to make an excuse to Hannah Braithwaite. “I need to pop out for a short time,” he said. “Please don’t move from that sofa, for any reason. It’s imperative you keep that ankle entirely still for the next half-hour or so.

Hannah nodded. She looked puzzled, but didn’t argue.