On their last evening together, as they cuddled in bed, she’d regaled Herbert with her exploits and in turn he’d told her of his. Margaret took him through each attack, describing the scenes in meticulous detail. He’d loved it. What a pair they made: both had hidden depths, secrets buried. One of hers she’d kept to herself, a truth, details of a night long ago when the pools man came to call –she couldn’t share that with Herbert, but in the twilight hours they finally revealed themselves. That night they truly became as one. Like had met like.
Had things been different who knew what they could have achieved together. All ruined though, spoilt by three stupid, interfering girls. Perhaps she wouldn’t see Herbert again, bless him. Even if she made it back to Elkdale there was a smidgen of a chance she’d get caught, as Herbert feared. If that happened, well, before they took her in, Margaret would end it all. Why not? What was the point in going on? She’d spent the last fifteen years of her life visiting a prison so no way was she going to end her days in one. No chance.
Margaret was aware that time could be running out and in some ways that fuelled her rage, the insatiable desire for revenge. It was gnawing away inside and she knew it wouldn’t stop until she’d finished the job. Margaret sometimes felt like Joan of Arc, or Boadicea, marching into battle, fighting the good fight and vanquishing her foes.
After today her future was in the lap of the gods. If she got away with it then she’d forge ahead, a new woman, living the life, sex goddess, jet-setter, maybe she’d meet another Mr Right. Not someone like the man she’d met in the dingy hotel bar on her first and only night in Paris who was after one thing, which she made sure he got, but then again so did she. It was a case of making hay, simple as that.
Her thoughts then turned to poor Herbie. He’d been so useful, her perfect alibi, but his time was also running out in more ways than one, whether she got away with it or not. Did he seriously believe for one minute that she was going to endure a dying man in her house? Well, if he did, he had another thing coming. Oh yes, Herbert had it coming all right.
Still, credit where credit was due, even though he was getting weaker and the task would have drained him, he hadn’t batted an eyelid when she asked him to drive her to the train station from where she took the shuttle service to the airport. Before he drove away Margaret had thought it prudent to remind him of the rules. It was imperative that he went straight home and parked the car in the garage. If anyone rang or called he was to say she had a severe migraine and was in bed. Not that anyone would of course.
He was to remain at home until she rang and told him to collect her from the station, then she would slip back inside the house. Job done, home and almost free.
Nobody would even know she’d been away. If the police came calling once Frankie was found dead, Margaret and Herbert would alibi each other. He knew the consequences if he failed. She would take him down with her and he would die alone. Obviously he was going to die anyway, one way or another, but that would be a nice surprise.
Margaret strained her ears. The toilet had flushed and… yes, footsteps. Excitement was building within, a shuddering, throbbing pulse of energy grew and she had to contain her secret spirit who was desperate to get out. Sometimes it was such an eager little beaver and she had to tell it to shush, not get giddy, be patient.
Composing herself, wiping all other thoughts from her mind, Margaret took a deep breath, feeling the power surge within. She was alone in the house with her prey, and after watching the touching farewell scene earlier when K. White and son set off for Blighty, Margaret was confident she wouldn’t be disturbed. The execution scene was set and when feet appeared on the stairs she smiled. This was going to be magnificent.
34
Jed alighted the TGV and headed through the barriers, following the signs towards the exit and the taxi rank. He’d intended charging his battery in the van during the journey to the docks, but had forgotten to plug it in, and now he was down to fifteen per cent charge, so he’d turned it off on the train to save power. Praying that the taxi driver spoke a bit of English, Jed made his way to the first one in the queue and after giving him the address, settled into the seat and enjoyed the wave of excitement that was rushing through his body.
Frankie was going to be so surprised when he turned up and he couldn’t wait.
The driver did in fact speak English and as Jed turned on his phone, he said, ‘You are here on holiday?’
Jed nodded, then frowned when his screen came to life and he saw the rows of missed calls from his mum. Had she found out he wasn’t going home and wanted to persuade him otherwise? Or had something happened to his dad? In between answering the driver and contemplating whether to suffer an ear bashing now or later, his phone chirped into life. ‘No, mate, I’ve been here doing some work at my girlfriend’s house and I’m going to surprise her– Sorry, excuse me while I answer this, it’s my mum.’ Sucking in air, Jed answered, preparing to state his case.
He was immediately thrown into panic when he heard a male voice. ‘Is this Jed?’
‘Er, yes, who’s this? Where’s my mum? Is something wrong?’
‘No, Jed, nothing’s wrong with your mum. She’s here with me and she’s fine.’
‘Oh, and who are you? Why have you got Mum’s phone? Can you put her on, please?’
‘I’m DC Barnes and I’m investigating the murder of Scarlet Jones. Now, I need you to stay calm and tell me where you are.’
The skin on Jed’s arms prickled and as he caught the curious look from the taxi driver through the rear-view mirror, his heart began to pound. ‘I’m in France. I’m just leaving Ancenis train station, on my way back to Frankie’s – my girlfriend’s. Why? Look what the hell is going on?’
The voice at the other end of the phone was calm and authoritative but his next words sent Jed into a blind panic. ‘How long will it take you to get to Frankie?’
Jed had no idea so asked the driver. ‘Mate, how long will it take to get there?’
The driver answered. ‘Fifteen minutes. Are you okay, monsieur?’
Feeling anything but okay Jed relayed the time, his voice laced with panic and bubbling anger. ‘Fifteen minutes… Look you’d better tell me right now what’s going on.’
‘Try to stay calm, okay. Now I have reason to suspect the woman responsible for the murder of Scarlet Jones is in France or heading there and we need to keep Frankie safe until she’s caught. We’ve tried ringing Frankie but she hasn’t picked up. So you need to get there as soon as possible and when you do, do not let her out of your sight. Or better still get her away from the house.’
Jed couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘Yes, I understand, I’ll take her somewhere… whatever is best.’
‘Good, and in the meantime, can you get the driver to call the police. Ask him to do it on his radio, via the cab office. You have to hurry, Jed. She could be there right now.’
Jed’s hands shook and his whole body had turned cold. His brain broke through the fog of panic and forced out an answer. ‘Yes… yes, I’ll get him to do it right now. Stay on the line.’
Leaning forward, his hands trembling as he spoke, Jed explained to the driver what he wanted him to do. Panic rose in his throat while he listened to the message being passed over the radio, the wide-eyed driver speaking in rapid French while Jed relayed everything back to the detective at the other end of the phone.
