NOTHING HAD CHANGED, and yet everything had. Gazing around Bolton’s town centre square, Laura breathed deeply.
Every minute of the train journey here had been mental torture – continually, she’d agonised whether she was doing the right thing. However, Amos and Nathan’s smiling faces would appear each time she wavered, reminding her that she was, that this whole despicable mess must be resolved once and for all, and another layer of hatred towards the Cannock pair would pile in her grief-scarred mind.
She knew where they would be: Breightmet, a small rural township some two miles north-east. Made up of sloping hills, farms and woodland dotted with relatively few homesteads, it was a pleasant spot. Other than the odd coal pit and sandstone quarry, and the handful of small-scale weaving and cotton-spinning, calico-printing and bleaching establishments, it was as yet largely untouched by industry. She’d enjoyed dwelling there during her marriage.
Neither brother was wed – nor for that matter had they shown signs of even thinking about settling down – the last time she’d been in contact with them. Chances were they would be exactly where they had always been: in the decrepit cottage they shared with their mother.
With the memory of Dotty Cannock, Laura’s upper lip curled in distaste. A drunken, foul-mouthed, vicious slattern, completely lacking in morals and common decency – it was little wonder her children had turned out the way they had. Laura had tolerated her for Adam’s sake, had done her utmost to be civil. Dotty, on the other hand, had never attempted to disguise her detestation for ‘the uppity bitch who had snared her last born’, as she’d referred to Laura from day one.
Now, fingering the bottle in her pocket, dread and not a little terror rolled through her guts at the events to come.
Praying for strength and purposely avoiding Ashburner Street, loath to see the burnt-out shell of Mrs Hanover’s shop that was once her beloved home, she set off for the demons’ lair.
As she’d suspected, she arrived at Red Lane to find the cottage empty. No matter the time of day, there was only one place you’d be certain to find Dotty: propping up the counter of some low inn or other. As for her sons, God alone knew where they would be – up to their criminal activities somewhere, no doubt. However, it had been best to make absolutely sure and, after a last squint through the grimy window, and satisfied no one was home, Laura headed out towards Bury Road, where it was busiest.
After checking one or two beer houses without success, she pushed open the dark-wood door of the next and, peering through the gloom, scanned the occupants. Several bags of bones clad in rags huddled around the small open fire, but Dotty wasn’t amongst them. Then Laura trained her gaze in the opposite direction and there, alone at a stained table, a glass clutched to her breast like a suckling babe, was the beshawled figure she sought. Laura smiled grimly. Pulling her cap lower still over her eyes, obscuring her face, she crossed to the counter.
‘What’s your poison, lad?’
She put on her deepest voice. ‘Er … porter,’ she told the innkeeper, thinking on her feet – it was what Adam used to drink. She took the filled tankard from him with a nod, paid and went to sit in a secluded alcove. Pretending to sip the foul-smelling drink, she kept her eyes on her former mother-in-law across the room. The woman looked to have been supping since dawn, was slurring a ribald song to herself and swaying precariously in her seat. She’d be ready for home soon. Not long, now.
As the minutes ticked on, Dotty’s voice grew in pitch until, eventually, another down-and-out customer yelled across to her to ‘shut tha bloody trap’. She in return screeched back a stream of profanities, which caught the innkeeper’s attention, and Laura prepared herself for the imminent departure.
‘Right, Dotty, let’s be having thee,’ the aproned man told her sternly as he came to stand over her, hands on hips. ‘I’ll have no ruckus on my premises. Go on home and sleep it off, there’s a good girl.’
‘Good girl? Who the bleedin’ hell d’you think you’re talking to?’ She lashed out with a clogged foot, catching him on his shin. ‘Ha! Serves thee right, an’ all,’ she cackled gleefully as he yelped in pain. ‘Good bleedin’ girl, I ask thee. It’ll be poor bloody Bob for you when my lads hear of this and get a grip of thee. Ah aye, that’s knocked the bolshiness from yer sails, ain’t it?’ she added with a smirk when he blanched at the threat.
‘Now then, Dotty. No need to bother your sons with this, is there? Another gin afore you leave?’ he simpered, and Laura ground her teeth to see the level of power that loathsome duo exerted, over everyone, it seemed. Aye, well, not for much longer …
Some thirty minutes and two drinks later, Dotty finally lumbered to her feet. She staggered to the door and disappeared outside. Several seconds later, Laura rose and casually followed.
She kept a reasonable distance between them, which required walking at a snail’s pace – the drunken woman could barely stay upright, was zigzagging her way homewards at an agonisingly slow rate. At one point, midway along a rutted footpath leading to Red Lane, Dotty’s feet seemed to become tangled and she stumbled sideward in a floppy trot, landing headlong in a hedgerow. She lay for a time hooting with laughter, and it took her a good few minutes to crawl out and right herself again. Reaching the end of her patience, it was all Laura could do to stay out of sight and not drag Dotty the remainder of the way by the scruff of her neck.
After what felt like hours they arrived at the cottage. Whilst Dotty was busy fumbling with the lock, Laura took the opportunity to scan the area to make sure they were not being watched. Then she crept up behind the older woman in readiness.
Dotty got the door open and ambled inside – Laura was right behind. Before Dotty slammed it shut, Laura slipped into the cottage behind her and flitted to the corner of the kitchen, where stood an ancient dresser, which concealed perfectly her crouching form. It wouldn’t have done to break in. Damage to door or window would have been spotted right away; no one must suspect a thing. Fortunately, the idea had worked perfectly.
Heart hammering, she watched Dotty go to the fireplace and lift from the mantel a quart bottle of spirit. She removed the stopper with her teeth, spat it across the room and fell with a grunt into a sagging chair by the hearth.
After a few sips of the fiery liquid Dotty’s eyelids began to droop in her flabby face. This was what Laura had been waiting for. Quiet snores told her the time was right – she emerged from her hiding place and crawled noiselessly across the flagged floor.
Upon reaching the chair, she glanced back around towards the door and prayed the Cannock brothers wouldn’t arrive home just yet. Then she took the laudanum from her pocket.
She removed the cork carefully and peered inside the bottle at the reddish-brown contents. She chewed her lip. How much to administer? Ten drops? Thirty? Despite being sold legally by even respectable druggists and its wide usage amongst all classes – it cost around only a penny an ounce, the same as a pint of beer – ingested in high amounts, the poison could be lethal; it was a common killer. She didn’t want to murder Dotty, just induce sleep, suspend her in a heavy state of narcotism for a while so she wouldn’t get in the way of Laura’s main objective. She didn’t really deserve death – unlike her sons.
Daniel would have known the dosage. The thought tapped at her mind, but she shut it out quickly. He wasn’t here and she wouldn’t think of him. No. She refused to. She was on her own, now, and that was that. Cursing the lump that had crept to her throat, she returned her attention to the task in hand.
It was extremely bitter to the taste, but the brandy would mask that – Dotty wouldn’t notice anything untoward … would she?
Laura hesitated a few moments longer. Then she held straight the bottle lying loosely in the woman’s hand and tipped into it the entire contents of the laudanum.
After hurrying back to her hiding place, Laura took a series of deep breaths. Then she raised her hand and slapped the flagstones hard. The action had the desired effect – Dotty wakened with a start and, puzzled, squinted around the space. Spying nothing, she shrugged. Then she glanced down and, remembering the brandy, brought the bottle to her lips.
As she glugged on the laced drink Laura crossed her fingers that it would work. She didn’t have long to wait.
Dotty grew drowsy and, shortly afterwards, appeared in a half-dazed state. She began babbling incoherently – had she fallen victim to the drug’s hallucinogenic properties? Laura suspected so. Then suddenly, Dotty’s head lolled and she fell into a death-like sleep.
Laura crept across. She lifted one eyelid then the other. The woman’s pupils were greatly constricted. Panic rising, she put her ear to her chest and listened. Her breathing had shallowed alarmingly. Dotty had slipped into unconsciousness.
Had she given her too much? Would she die? Laura fretted. She glanced around the room in the grip of confusion, unsure now what to do.
You’ve come this far. You can’t back out now, her inner voice commanded. Follow the plan. Do it. For Nathan, for Father.
Her face hardened and she nodded.
She turned and bolted up the stairs to hide.
Waking to a flurry of activity downstairs, Laura blinked in the darkness. It took a moment for her befuddled senses to return and, as remembrance slammed back, she swallowed hard. She was in the Cannocks’ house. And it sounded like the brothers had just arrived.
True, she hadn’t known enough rest last night, but still … how on earth had she fallen asleep with all that was going on? Shaking her head at her own stupidity – the men could have discovered her and she’d have been done for – she scrambled to the bedroom door and craned her neck to listen.
Someone was stabbing viciously at the kitchen fire in a vain attempt to tease some life into the dead embers. A loud curse rang out then the clang of metal reverberated off the walls as the poker was slung across the room.
‘Look at her! Fast akip, no fire in t’ grate and bugger all to eat on t’ table.’
‘Aye,’ the younger of the two agreed. ‘She’s a bone-idle sow if ever I saw one. ’Ere, mind out; I’ll waken her.’ His footsteps thumped as he crossed angrily to his mother – Laura held her breath.
Dear God, the laudanum. Was she …? Had she killed the woman?
‘Mam?’
Nothing.
‘Mam, wake up! D’you hear me?’
To Laura’s sheer relief, a gargled groan from Dotty sounded. Thank God …
‘Ah, leave her be, lad. There’ll be no getting sense from her till the morrow, when she’s slept the drink off.’
‘Bloody slattern, she’s nowt else.’
‘Check that there pot on t’ fire,’ said the elder brother. ‘Happen she made some grub earlier. It’ll be stone cold by now, but owt’s better than nowt.’
There came the scrape of a pan lid, then: ‘Ay! Good owd Mam.’
‘What is it?’
‘Beef steak and onions, by the looks of it.’
‘Fetch it across, then. I’ll get the bread.’
For the next few minutes the scratch of spoons on bowls, intermingled with the occasional burp, filled the silence. Then one of the men began to speak and the hairs stood up on the back of Laura’s neck:
‘What I’d not give to get my hands on that Todd whore. That haul we made away with … we’d be set for bloody life, now, if not for her!’
‘Aye. Instead look at us. Barely a ha’penny to our names, sat here eating what favours stewed dog spew.’ He breathed deeply in fury. ‘Don’t fret, lad. We’ll track down the thieving little slut if it’s the last thing we do. She can’t hide for ever. I’ll snap her bleedin’ neck once we’ve reclaimed what’s rightfully ours.’
Thieving …? What haul? What were they talking about?
‘That mystery fella Mam overheard in that tavern in Bolton town were right enough: Laura was in Manchester.’
God damn you, Ambrose …
‘And spotting her father as we did proved it. Mind, we didn’t get much information from that quarter, did we? Silly owd bastard. Fancy him keeling over like that afore we could get her whereabouts out of him.’
Laura had to bite down hard on her bottom lip to stop herself from crying out. Father, Father. I’m so sorry.
‘But who’s to say she ain’t moved on since? The bitch could be anywhere by now.’
‘Aye. We’d be taking a gamble stepping foot back in that city again after the trouble last time.’
‘Nowt’s come back on us, has it? Nor shall it. We were away afore possible witnesses could get a proper look at us. And it’s not like the swine what came at us will squeal, eh? After all, dead men don’t talk.’
Oh, Nathan.
‘Anyroad, he asked for that blade in his windpipe. Charging at us as he did, fists swinging; what the bleedin’ hell did he think would happen?’
‘Aye. What d’you reckon it were about, then, that?’
‘God only knows. Probably some sod what couldn’t hold his ale thinking hisself tough and looking for bother.’
They didn’t know he’d confronted them for her sake. Her husband hadn’t even had a chance to explain. Oh, lad …
‘Weren’t so much the big man when we’d finished with him, mind, were he?’
Their laughter rent the air and Laura squeezed her eyes tight. Shut up, she silently begged. Shut up.
‘Bleating for his mam as he clutched at his throat,’ the younger brother spluttered on a guffaw. ‘Fancy it. The daft bloody babby.’
Dear Lord, no! Shaking her head, she clamped her hands over her ears. How could they mock, and with such contempt, something so terribly tragic? For the first time, she was thankful that Daniel wasn’t here, for this would have killed him inside to hear. This pair were the devils through and through. By God, they were. They deserved all they had coming to them, and more.
‘Who’s that, then?’ one of the men asked suddenly. ‘D’you hear it?’
‘Aye.’
Laura’s eyes widened. Where they referring to her? Had she created a noise without realising it, given herself away? They were speaking now in hushed tones – she slunk further from the bedroom to hear them properly.
‘There it is again,’ a brother hissed to the other. ‘Listen.’
Laura knew then they didn’t mean her – she hadn’t made a sound. Now, she listened, too. When she heard it, her mouth fell open in astonishment – and sheer, gut-wrenching horror. No.
‘A dog.’
‘Some bastard’s loitering outside the cottage.’
Oh God, oh God. What should she do? She’d know that bark anywhere. Smiler. That could only mean one thing …
What the hell was he doing here? Should she cause a distraction? Do something – anything – before the brothers discovered him? But what? What?
In the next moment, all hope was lost when a knock came at the door.
‘Evening, lads.’
The sound of Daniel’s voice brought conflicting emotions and tears to her eyes. You foolish man; why put yourself in danger like this? But by God, it’s so good to hear you …
‘And what can we do for thee?’ The younger brother’s tone was low with aggression.
‘Well?’ demanded the other.
‘I trekked to Breightmet this afternoon on t’ promise of work, but it’s fell through – farmer whose land I were for labouring on don’t need me after all. Now I’m stuck here, you see, and in need of lodgings for t’ night. I’ve been asking hereabouts if anyone has the room but ain’t had no luck so far.’
‘Oh aye?’ The suspicion was clear. ‘What farm were that, then?’
‘The one behind the little school down Roscow Fold way,’ Daniel answered easily without hesitation – it was evident he’d done his research before approaching here.
‘And from whence d’you spring?’ shot back at him the other brother.
‘Blackburn town, and I’ve missed the last train. I’ll be away again home the morrow. So, have you lads the room to spare? I’ve brass to pay, of course.’
This last statement looked to do the trick – the men, in the penniless state they had mentioned earlier, whispered amongst themselves in consideration. Then: ‘We’ve a place you can lay yer head, aye.’
‘You can take Mam’s bed,’ explained the elder brother. ‘She’ll not surface from her chair, there, the night.’
‘Ta, thanks.’
There came the sound of money being exchanged, then the brother spoke again: ‘Well, come in, then. I’ll show thee upstairs.’
Laura looked about wildly then darted for the bedroom she assumed was Dotty’s. Daniel’s voice, saying that Smiler would do well enough stopping outside, floated up to her and she breathed in relief. One whiff of her scent and the dog would have given her away instantly.
A battered old wardrobe slouched against one wall and she scrambled inside it. Secreted amongst the musty-smelling garments, she kept watch through the thin gap between the rickety doors. As she waited, her gaze flicked about her surroundings, coming to settle on the wall opposite in cold dread. Hanging there was an aged biblical print, depicting an image of Daniel in the Den of Lions – what were the chances? Was this a hint of things to come? Dear God …
In the next moment one of the brothers entered the room. Then there he was, following closely behind: her Daniel. She almost cried out at the sight of him. Despite her fear for him, and her anger that he’d followed her here, she’d never been more thankful to see anyone in her life.
The brother pointed to the bed, Daniel thanked him, then the former left the bedroom, banging the door shut behind him. Alone, Daniel’s cool demeanour vanished – dragging his hands through his hair, he began pacing the floor, his agitation palpable as he agonised what to do next.
Laura was quick to put him out of his misery. She pushed open the wardrobe door and whispered his name. The expression on his face as he whipped around to look at her was one of disbelief swiftly followed by utter relief.
‘You shouldn’t be here, lad.’
‘Thank God.’ He was at her side in a heartbeat. His arms went around her. He held her close against him for a moment then drew back to stare into her face. ‘Thank God,’ he said again. Then his brows drew together. ‘You say I shouldn’t be here? What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone, Laura? Anything could have happened to thee—’
‘Well, it ain’t, has it?’
‘Why did you go off like that without a word? When I wakened and you weren’t there … I just thank God them bastards downstairs swallowed the tale I concocted to get me into the house. We were meant to do this together, had planned—’
‘Aye, well, I changed my mind.’
‘But why?’ he demanded.
Jerking her head to the door, she held a finger to her lips. ‘Keep your voice down.’
‘Why did you change your mind?’ he pressed, albeit in a more hushed tone.
She shrugged. ‘It matters not. Besides, this is summat I need to do on my own. It were daft of me to drag thee in on it to start with. The first opportunity you get, I’d like you to go. You must leave this to me. Return to Manchester, to your mam … to Lizzie.’
He opened his mouth then closed it again. His gaze flicked from her to the floor. ‘Ah. You know, then.’
‘About you and Lizzie?’ She felt tears bite. ‘Aye, she informed me this morning. Why didn’t you tell me?’
It was his turn to shrug. ‘Happen I didn’t think it the right time. I don’t know. Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters, Daniel! It changes everything, don’t you see?’ Her tears spilled over to run down her face. ‘You … have a responsibility now … to Lizzie … and … and you need to leave. I’ll not see you risk getting yourself hurt or worse—’
‘I don’t love her.’
‘What?’ She shook her head.
‘Lizzie. I don’t love her.’
The wave of gladness his admission brought made her hate herself even more than she’d begun to of late. She was rotten to the core. Here she was, widowhood but a day old, secretly joyous that, just possibly, everything wasn’t lost after all, as she’d feared, with another man. A man she loved still, despite knowing – feeling – to the depths of her soul that it was wrong. Who was she at all? Even she didn’t recognise this stranger she’d become.
‘It’s the truth, Laura.’
‘Then why ask the lass?’
‘I have my reasons.’
‘It’s cruel, that’s what!’
His mouth hardened. He swung away from her with a frown. ‘Don’t fret, I’ll not shirk my duty. Although I regret it, I did ask for her hand, and I will see the marriage through. I’m a man of my word, if nowt else.’
She itched to go to him. What had his reasons been? Did he honestly regret it? Would he really wed Lizzie regardless? More to the point, why was she still asking herself these questions? It was no concern of hers. None at all. She must stop this. ‘Well, tha must do what tha must. It’s none of my business, after all.’ Then, though it pained her to say it: ‘I wish youse both luck and happiness.’
‘Thank you,’ he murmured flatly.
‘But the fact remains … You have to go home. It’s just not safe here.’
‘I’m not going anywhere. We see this through together then we leave together, as we planned. Right?’
That she had no intention of returning to Manchester she kept to herself. He’d learn the truth of that soon enough. ‘Lad, please listen to me, you must—’
‘Sshhh. What was that?’
They glanced towards the door then back to each other with terrible dread. Someone was coming up the stairs.
‘The wardrobe, quick,’ Daniel hissed, bundling her towards it.
Laura barely had time to climb inside when the bedroom door burst open and one of the Cannock brothers stormed into the room. Her heart was banging like a drum – she was certain he would hear it – and she had to hold a hand to her mouth to stem her heavy breathing. However, if Daniel shared her terror, he didn’t show it:
‘Summat wrong?’ he asked, his voice conveying only mild puzzlement.
‘Get your arse down here, you,’ the brother snarled. ‘Move it!’
The game was up. They knew what was afoot, must have overheard her and Daniel talking. Lord, they would kill them for sure. Think, her mind screamed. Do something!
Daniel folded his arms. Though he spoke as calmly as before, she saw through the gap in the wardrobe doors the nervous lick of his lips. ‘Eh? Why?’ he asked.
‘Why, tha asks?’ The man crossed the floor towards him. ‘’Cause that bleedin’ dog of yourn’s creating merry hell outside, that’s what. Yowling and scratching at the door for thee, it is. We’ll none of us get a wink of kip with that racket going on. Get and see to it afore I boot it into next week – and you along with it!’
Daniel stiffened at the threat. A muscle throbbed at his temple, hinting at his fury, and for a horrifying moment Laura thought he would lunge at the brother. When instead he forced an apology and followed him out, she sagged in relief. Moments later, he was back, Smiler at his heel. He closed the door, then leaned his forehead against it, fists bunched tight by his sides.
Laura emerged from the wardrobe and, after giving the excited dog a quick stroke, went to Daniel. What it must have taken just now for him to scrape to his brother’s murderer, to swallow every instinct in him and not pummel that face to a pulp, she could only imagine. She touched his shoulder. ‘Lad?’
‘May God forgive me, I’m going to get so much pleasure from ending that set of bastards!’ he spat in a whisper.
‘They suspect nowt?’
He heaved a long breath then turned to face her. He shook his head. ‘Nay, I don’t think so.’
‘Come, sit down.’
They went to perch on the end of the bed, the dog settling down between them. Not long afterwards, movement sounded again on the stairs – two sets of footsteps this time. Once again, Laura hurried to hide, but the brothers didn’t put in an appearance. They made straight for the room they shared next door and soon their loud snores pushed through the adjoining wall.
She and Daniel shared a look. A little longer, they told each other with their eyes. Let the pair reach a deep slumber and then we’ll strike.
When finally they rose and moved to the door, Laura was shaking from head to foot. Daniel didn’t look much better. Despite his earlier impatience to exact revenge, his face was now ashen and, before turning the knob, he released several steadying breaths. He nodded to her, she returned it, and they tiptoed on to the tiny landing.
They paused outside the brothers’ room. Daniel reached inside his trouser pocket and brought out two flick knives, one of which he passed to her. Then he opened the door slowly and they crept inside.
Both brothers lay on their backs, mouths wide, fast asleep. The high moon’s silver sheen pouring through the curtainless window lit the way as she made for one bed, he the second.
The weapons were poised ready at their victims’ necks. Laura and Daniel glanced across at each other.
‘For Nathan.’
‘For Father,’ she mouthed back.
In a rapid, simultaneous sweep, they drew the blades across the tender flesh.
Laura could only watch in numbing horror as the younger, more vicious brother, whom she’d attacked, opened his eyes wide with a sharp gasp. Then he was leaping from the bed, roaring like a crazed bull. With a cry, she dropped the knife, sending it clattering to the bare floorboards to become lost in the shadows. He came towards her and she staggered back on legs that felt like melting jelly, hands outstretched to ward him off.
Dear God, she hadn’t done it right! The blade hadn’t penetrated; she’d barely drawn blood.
‘What the …? What the …! You?’ Taking in her face, he swung his head incredulously. Then he bared his teeth. ‘You whore, I’ll kill thee!’ he screamed.
‘Nay, you stay away from me! Daniel!’ she added on a shriek, not daring to take her eyes off the one advancing towards her. ‘Daniel, help me!’
Frowning, the man paused – clearly, he’d thought her alone – and scanned the opposite end of the room. Picking out his brother’s bed, his expression dropped slowly. ‘Bastard … Nay!’
Laura followed his gaze. His brother, making soft gurgling sounds, wild eyes gazing at the ceiling, was clutching at his neck with both hands. Blood, almost black in the dim light, covered him, the bed, the walls. Standing above, the knife still poised in his fist, was Daniel, frozen with shock, as though not quite believing he’d inflicted the injury in front of him.
‘You’ve done for him! You’ve slashed his throat!’ The younger brother was dragging in each breath painfully and pulling at the hair at his temples, almost delirious with panic. ‘Why? Who the hell even are you?’
‘He’s my brother-in-law.’ Choking with sobs, Laura ran to Daniel’s side. She turned murderous eyes back on the younger Cannock. ‘The fella youse stabbed to death in Manchester the other day was my husband. This, this,’ she added, swinging round to jab a finger at the dying man, ‘it’s your comeuppance! You killed Daniel’s brother and now he’s killed yours! I only wish I’d done a better job and seen thee off as well!’
All vestige of colour had left his face. He stared back dumbly in stunned silence.
‘Burning down Mrs Hanover’s premises. Father, Nathan, now him,’ she went on, tears pouring freely down her cheeks. ‘All gone. So much destruction and death, and for what? I had no part in Adam’s demise!’
‘You reckon you’d still be breathing if I thought that?’ he bellowed back. ‘What the bugger are you talking about?’
‘The … the accident. His trip on t’ stairs. You believed me responsible. You came for me afterwards, forced me to flee for my life. You said you were going to kill me!’
‘Aye, because of the brass, yer brainless bitch!’
‘But … But I …’ A terrible, terrible feeling washed through her, making her stagger. This was all some sick ruse. He was lying. This couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t! ‘What brass?’ she stuttered.
‘Don’t act gormless, you sneaky, lying whore. You know exactly what I’m talking about, and I want it back. Every last penny, d’you hear?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t!’
The conversation she’d overheard. They had mentioned a haul that would have set them up for life, had called her a thief.
Dear God, he spoke the truth. All of this. All of it, for all this time …
Their vendetta against her had nothing to do with them thinking her to blame for Adam’s death. They believed she’d stolen from them. That was it. Everything that had happened, the terrific level of loss …
‘This whole thing … It’s been about nowt but money?’ she rasped.
‘My money, aye. And I want it back!’
Her legs threatened to give way; she grasped on to Daniel to stop herself from falling. She’d lost her home and her father, her husband, her freedom, everything she’d ever known and loved … for money? This was some horrific nightmare, surely? This couldn’t be real.
‘We need … need to get out of here,’ she murmured in a daze to Daniel, tugging at his jacket.
‘Youse are going nowhere.’ Fumbling at a tall chest, the brother pulled something from the top drawer. When he held it aloft, Laura felt the blood drain from her face and knew the threat to her life in light of this new development had far from diminished. She was still in as much danger now as she’d ever been. ‘Nowhere, you hear?’ he added in a low growl, pointing the gun directly at her. ‘Unless you fancy the contents of all five chambers of this revolver emptied into your head, that is.’
Charged silence crackled between them. Then a groan rent the air and they turned as one in surprise to the bed.
‘He’s alive?’ the younger brother asked in disbelief. ‘He’s alive, he is! Quick, there might still be time. Now, you bitch!’ he shouted, prodding the gun’s barrel into the small of her back. ‘Tend to him. Do it!’
The seemingly miraculous resurrection appeared to snap Daniel from his stupor – galvanised, he sprang into action. He lifted his victim’s head whilst, by the guttering light of the candle the younger brother had produced, Laura assessed his injury.
‘I need water,’ she said, and Daniel hurried for the pitcher on the washstand by the window. ‘You, fetch me the sheet from your bed,’ she told the weapon-wielding Cannock. This he did, and she tore it into strips. ‘Now, mind back, give me room to work,’ she instructed as she wetted a rag and turned her attention to the brother’s wound.
‘Well, Laura?’ Daniel’s voice eventually broke through the silence. ‘Is he …?’
‘Aye, he’ll live.’
The younger brother wasn’t the only one to emit a breath of relief – Daniel visibly sagged. Seeing it, Laura knew for the first time a touch of thankfulness that the man had survived. She’d agonised over what the hell she was doing as she battled to save her enemy; surely he’d be better off dead, his sibling along with him, for both their sakes? But what would it have done to Daniel? The guilt of knowing he’d taken someone’s life would have ruined him, of that she was certain.
Unlike some, he wasn’t capable of such evil. He was a good man, and good men didn’t go around murdering others, no matter the provocation or how much they might deserve it. She should never have suggested they come here. What an utter mess she’d made of everything – things were now ten times worse.
‘You’re sure he’ll pull through?’ demanded the younger brother.
She nodded. ‘The blood made it look worse than it were; he lost a fair bit. He has two cuts and they’re quite deep, but I’ve patched him up well enough.’ She checked again the improvised bandage she’d fashioned from a left-over piece of the sheet. Satisfied it was secure, she focused next on the injured man’s pallor and pulse rate. The former wasn’t too good, resembling the colour of old dough. But his skin wasn’t clammy; his temperature seemed fair. Furthermore, his breathing was steady. Nor did he look to be in much discomfort.
She rose from the bed and lifted her gaze slowly to the younger brother. He in turn stared from her to Daniel. The gun followed his eyeline, pointing at them alternately. He cast the man resting in the bed another glance. Then he jerked his head towards the door.
‘Youse two, downstairs. Move it!’
Laura led the way. In the kitchen, she awaited the next instruction with crippling dread. They were not for getting out of this alive, she and Daniel, she just knew it. How had she been so naive as to think their plan could work? Blinded by rage, terror of further reprisals and the need for revenge, she’d taken the pair of them straight to the slaughter. She’d been such a damn fool. Now, she and Daniel would pay the ultimate price.
‘Sit,’ the brother ordered Daniel, pointing to a chair. When Daniel had obeyed, he went to stand in front of him. In one swift movement, he swung the weapon, smashing the butt with brute force across Daniel’s head.
Laura cried out and as Daniel slithered to the ground, made to rush forward, but the young Cannock sprang in her path. Then he was lifting his arm again and she hadn’t the speed to dodge.
She knew a moment of fierce pain, then darkness claimed her, too.