With Reenie bathed and being fussed over by her aunt, Marge deemed it was time to leave them to it. There was nothing more she could do here, and frankly she was exhausted.
Outside, the light was dimming as the sun began its descent, and the wind was cold. She lit a cigarette and leant against the wall of the shop.
Across the road, the café door suddenly burst open and Rodney stormed out and strode up Cannon Street.
‘Rodney?’ she called, crossing over the square towards him.
He stopped and looked over towards her. ‘Is Reenie all right?’ he asked.
‘Not really.’ She peered at his face. ‘And nor are you? What’s happening?’
His jaw tensed and he looked away. ‘I’m going to see Mary Guthrie,’ he said briefly. ‘It seems she was the one who started the fire.’
Marge gasped. ‘You can’t be serious? The woman wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’
‘Edie saw her. She was the one that knocked her over.’
‘I’ll come with you.’
Together, they walked swiftly towards the Guthries’ bakery on Biggin Street. It was shut, and Rodney banged on the door. ‘Open up!’
The window upstairs opened and Jack Guthrie’s head poked out. Seeing Rodney, he closed the window, appearing soon after at the door. ‘Is it true?’ he asked. ‘Is Colin alive?’ His eyes were alight with hope.
‘We need to speak to your wife,’ Rodney said.
‘She’s upstairs. The news has upset her. If Colin were alive, he’d surely let us know, wouldn’t he? Why wouldn’t he let us know?’
‘It’s not about Colin,’ Marge said gently.
‘Then you better leave. We’ve got nothing to say to any Castles.’
‘But I have something to say to her!’ Rodney pushed the door open and went inside, Marge close behind him.
Sighing, Mr Guthrie plodded after them.
The sitting room stunk of pipe smoke and Mrs Guthrie was sitting in one of the drab blue armchairs with her face buried in a large hankie, her shoulders shaking.
She jumped up when they came in. ‘Is it true? My Colin . . . He’s alive?’
‘I’m not here about that, Mrs Guthrie. We’re here about the fire at the café.’
All the colour drained out of her already pale face, and she slumped back down in the armchair.
‘How dare you?’ Mr Guthrie roared. ‘Hasn’t our family suffered enough without you throwing around crazy accusations?’
Rodney shot him a sharp look. ‘Mr Guthrie, I really am very sorry, but my sister saw her.’
Mr Guthrie looked at his wife aghast. ‘Mary?’
Mary’s face crumpled and she started to wail. ‘I had to do something to make them pay! How can Jimmy go off and marry that girl, when our Colin . . .’ She buried her face in her hankie again.
‘What do you mean, love? Why shouldn’t Jim have married Reenie?’
‘You’re a blind fool, Jack Guthrie! You never could see what was right in front of your face! Jimmy and Colin were lovers!’ She screamed the last word at her husband. ‘And he left him to die in that hellhole! If he couldn’t save him, he should have done the decent thing and died with him!’
Jack Guthrie took a step back, shaking his head. ‘No, love. No. You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Tell him, Rodney.’ Mary glared at him. ‘You’re his brother, you must have known.’
Rodney sighed. ‘It seems it’s true,’ he said.
‘And is he . . . is he really alive?’ Mr Guthrie said.
‘Yes. But I don’t know where he is, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, but I bet your brother knows! Everyone’s talking about how he ran off to find Colin! And the things they’ve been saying about him?’ She sobbed. ‘I just want to see my son! Why should he get to see him and not us? And then there’s poor Susan.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘Locked up in jail and likely to hang. And all because your brother couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I wish he’d died at that football match!’ She started to sob again.
‘All of that doesn’t give you the right to take your anger out on my mother, who had nothing to do with any of this,’ Rodney gritted out.
‘She’s the worst of the lot of you! She’s a murderer and a liar, and Gladys knew it as well!’
There was a stunned silence for a moment. Marge glanced at Rodney, whose mouth was hanging open in shock.
‘What are you talking about?’ Marge asked.
‘I was just trying to drive her mad, like I’ve been driven mad since Colin’s gone. And it worked, didn’t it? I had her out there scrubbing at the pavement. And the necklace too!’ She let out a manic laugh. ‘I saw her clutching at it and muttering to herself. Anyway, I wasn’t going to do it for much longer. I was going to the police with what I knew, cos I want her to rot in jail, just like Susan is.’
Marge looked at Mr Guthrie, who looked dumbfounded.
‘Who do you think she murdered?’ Rodney finally managed.
Without a word, Mary stood up and left the room.
Mr Guthrie shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, son. She’s just not been right since Colin, and then Gladys dying and Susan being in jail pushed her over the edge. I knew something were up, but I had no idea she was doing anything to your mum.’
Marge put a comforting arm round Rodney’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. For a moment he leant against her, glancing down at her with a grateful smile.
Mrs Guthrie soon returned and held out a small leather-bound book. ‘Gladys’s diary for 1927. I found it when I helped clean out her place with Mrs Palmer. Do you remember what happened in 1927, Rodney?’ she asked mockingly.
Rodney couldn’t have looked more shocked if Mary had pointed a gun at him. Finally, though, he held out a trembling hand and took the book from her.
Worried he might collapse, Marge led him over to the sofa.
‘Read it,’ Mary urged. ‘I reckon you can guess the date you need. But just in case you forgot, try twenty-seventh of December.’
Rodney was shaking so much that Marge eventually took the book out of his hands. ‘Do you want me to look?’ she asked.
‘No!’ He suddenly came to life and snatched it back from her. ‘It’s all in the past and you can go to the police if you want, but what will they do? There’s no proof, is there? Just the words of a dead woman?’
Mary narrowed her eyes. ‘No proof of what?’ she asked.
When Rodney didn’t answer, she let out a bitter laugh. ‘You’ve always suspected, haven’t you?’
Marge looked between them in confusion. They seemed to be having a private conversation, and she had no idea what it was about.
‘Rodney?’ she asked.
He seemed to gather himself. ‘I have proof about you committing arson and assault, so what do you want me to do? I can go to the police right now and have you arrested.’
Mr Guthrie stepped forward, hands raised placatingly. ‘Hey, come on now, son. If we pay for the fence then can we just forget all about it?’
‘Your wife is mad,’ Rodney snapped. ‘She needs help.’
‘What I need,’ Mary gritted, ‘is to see my son. And I need to see your family pay for what they’ve done to mine. She won’t get away with it.’
‘You think Colin would be happy about all this?’ Rodney flashed back. ‘What if I find a way to tell him that you’ve been terrorising the mother of the man he loves? That you tried to set fire to the café where he spent so much time when he was a boy? You think he’ll ever want to come back to you after that?’
The fight went out of Mary, and she slumped back in her chair.
‘But you said you didn’t know where he was?’ Mr Guthrie said. ‘How could you let him know?’
‘Because I lied. I know exactly where he is and what he’s doing. But I can’t tell you. On the other hand, what I can do, is find a way to get him to write to you. But I won’t do it if you continue with this vendetta. You need to stop immediately. And I want no more talk of this!’ He waved the diary in the air. ‘And, yes, Mr Guthrie, you will pay for the fence. And while you’re at it, you can give my mum some money to compensate her for what your wife has done. I believe she needs some money to pay for the window.’
‘I don’t have that sort of money!’ he gasped.
‘Then you better keep her under control, or she’ll find herself in the cell next to Susan’s.’ Rodney stood up and put the book in his pocket. ‘Whatever is in this diary is over and done. My dad did enough damage when he was alive, I won’t have him doing any more. Come on, Marge.’ He held his hand out to her, and she took it gratefully, eager to get out of the smoky room and find out what the hell was going on.
‘Will you tell me what that was all about?’ Marge asked as Rodney sped back down towards Market Square. ‘What’s in the diary? Isn’t 1927 the year that your dad—’ She stopped walking as it suddenly hit her.
Rodney turned and looked at her, his eyes haunted, his face pale.
‘Surely you don’t think . . . ?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ he said brusquely.
She took his arm. ‘I think you need to,’ she said softly.
He ran his hand over his face. ‘It was a long time ago. And I try very hard not to think about him at all.’
‘But, Rodney, you surely can’t think that your mum . . . You don’t think she was the one who shot him, do you?’
Rodney looked tortured. ‘If she did, he deserved it! He nearly killed her, he nearly killed me on more than one occasion! He was a violent brute, and if Mum hadn’t done it, I would have done it soon. Edie was the only one he was nice to.’
‘He was sick, love.’
A muscle jumped in Rodney’s jaw as he ground his teeth together. ‘I know. And I’m sorry.’ He buried his face in his hands.
They were standing by St Mary’s Church, and Marge gently drew him along the road beside Pencester Park and put her arms around him. ‘Hey, it’s all right, love. You were just a boy. None of it was your fault.’
He leant against her, his shoulders shaking. ‘I could never protect them,’ he whispered. ‘I tried, but it was never enough.’
‘It wasn’t your job to do that. It was your mum’s.’
He looked down into her face. ‘And that’s exactly what I think she did,’ he said quietly.
Marge stared back at him in shock. Suddenly, he bent his head and kissed her roughly, desperately, and she put her arms around his neck and kissed him back with equal ferocity, their tongues duelling, as they pressed to get closer to each other.
He pulled away finally. ‘Don’t marry him,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘For God’s sake, please don’t marry him.’ Then he kissed her again.
Despite the shocking revelations of the afternoon, Marge’s heart sang at his words. Did he mean it? Or was this just a result of the emotions of the day? But what did it matter? Phil had never made her feel like this.
‘I love you,’ she said against his lips.
Rodney stopped abruptly and stood back from her. ‘Even after what you’ve found out today?’
‘Especially after that.’
Rodney leant his forehead against hers. ‘Thank God. I thought I’d lost you to the padre.’
‘You could never lose me, Rod. No matter where you are, what you do, I’d find you somehow.’
Rodney laughed slightly. ‘Only you could make me laugh after today.’ He sighed. ‘Will you come back with me to talk to the others?’
Marge gave him a radiant smile. ‘I’d come with you to the ends of the earth, if you want me. Surely you know that?’
He wrapped his arms tightly around her. ‘I do now. And now I have you, I hope you know I’ll never let you go.’
‘I should bloody hope not,’ she said.