Glancing upwards, knowing now to never take her eyes off the madwoman, Frankie watched as Margaret’s body flopped in defeat, a rag doll, spent and motionless. She was about to claim victory, allow herself to breathe when like a monster from the swamp, a devil that can’t be tamed, a zombie that just won’t fucking die, Margaret’s right arm moved and her body began to crane itself upright.
No, no, no… no more, no more.
Bile surged and burned Frankie’s throat, acid mixing with blood that continued to leak from her head and chin, seeping onto lips and tongue, a bitter cocktail. Frankie had to stop Margaret once and for all and desperately looked around for a weapon, her eyes drawn to the handles of her broken trolley, one plank of wood remaining, still attached. Lunging, she took hold, then gripping tightly, swaying, finding it hard to focus, Frankie took a step forward, raised her weapon above her head and brought it down with every ounce of strength not needed to keep her upright. The blow landed on the back of Margaret’s head, a firework of splattering blood hit the wall, then she hit the ground, face down, still.
Euphoria consumed Frankie, adrenalin, relief, anger, and then her own voice, screaming out all that she’d held inside for far too long, she needed to let it out, once and for all.
BASH, Margaret’s body jerked with the force of wood connecting with shoulder blade.
‘You evil fucking bitch.’
BASH, backbone this time, a slight moan.
‘You broke my granny trolley.’
BASH, harder, on the leg, just in case, no way was the bitch getting up. And there was a weird wailing sound outside.
‘And nobody–’
BASH, on the leg again, Frankie could hardly breathe, her chest was tight, the room was spinning.
‘Hurts–’
BASH, the wood didn’t connect and hit the tiles, annoying, and she was swaying, and voices were shouting her name. Oh, oh, the room was spinning.
‘My…’
The last word was a whisper, the fight had left her; her arms flopped to the side, fingers let go of the wooden handles.
‘Dogs.’
Dropping to her knees Frankie crawled along the floor, and when she reached the cage her body sagged against the side as Belle and Oscar whined and yowled. A pool of crimson was forming on the floor as she forced her hands to work, flipping open the clasp of the cage, then almost taken out with a thud as two warm, excited, grateful puppies licked and snuffled her, covering her body with bloody paw prints.
When the screen door burst open, Frankie squinted through lashes caked in blood and as the edges of the picture started to blur, she heard a familiar voice and then felt arms holding her tight. Looking up, confused, dazed and hanging on by a thread, Frankie smiled, reached up and touched his face.Jed, my Jed. He came back, I knew he would. Now I can lie down and go to sleep.
36
Frankie disconnected the call as Jed came out onto the veranda carrying a tray laden with mugs of tea and hot buttered toast. The late September evenings were chilly and they were benefiting already from the warmth of the fire pit that allowed them to spend time outdoors whenever they could.
‘Is your mum okay?’ Jed set the tray down, then took one of the logs from the basket and placed it in the pit.
‘Oh yes, they’re home safe and settled in. She’s still fussing though and insisting they’ll be back soon, once Dad’s picked the motorhome up. He can’t wait to start his European road trip, jeez, they’ll be like a pair of hippies soon, Mum’s halfway there already. India really got under her skin and I still can’t believe she got a tattoo.’ Frankie leant forward and picked up her drink and a slice of toast as she spoke.
‘Your face when she showed you, it was a picture… I like it, though, the little elephant, it’s cute. And you’ve got butter on your chin.’ Taking a seat beside her on the rattan sofa, Jed wiped it off with his finger, then fussed some more, pulling one side of the throw further over Frankie’s body, then dragged the rest over his.
Oscar and Belle were lying by her feet, and while their allegiance to Jed was unwavering, they’d taken to guarding their second-in-command human at every opportunity. Even though her beloved dogs had bounced back from their ordeal Frankie was sure that it had left some small mark on them, but they were here and hadn’t been physically harmed and that’s all that mattered. Contented, she and Jed ate their snack in silence, looking out at the view, the valley wearing its autumn coat of muted browns that met the slate grey sky.
They were all enjoying some peace and quiet after saying goodbye to her parents earlier that day and knowing that they’d soon have another set of guests, when Ken and Jenny arrived at the end of the month, Frankie and Jed had vowed to make the most of their time alone together.
He’d been the best tonic, cheering her up, making her feel safe, looking after her when they let her out of hospital after her cuts were glued together and the wound in her groin was stitched. Jed had been beside himself when he found her on the floor, lying in a pool of blood, her face, legs and hands streaked with it, not to mention the walls that had since been repainted, wiping away the stain of Tibbs.
That’s how Frankie referred to the woman who’d tried to kill her, wanted to execute her on the kitchen floor and do harm to her Frenchies. And no matter what her motivation, Frankie and Jed, in fact everyone, had zero sympathy for the woman who would hopefully spend the rest of her life in jail. Frankie was glad that Tibbs had survived being beaten unconscious because death was too good for her. She wanted the evil cow punished, a long and miserable sentence for what she’d done to poor Scarlet and Bea.
One good thing to come out of it was that Frankie and Bea had reconnected during a tearful, and apologetic on both sides, phone call. Bea was slowly recovering but it would be a long road. Her neck injuries had caused substantial nerve damage and her life and that of her family wouldn’t be the same again. They’d vowed to put the past behind them and honour the memory of their friend Scarlet who’d had her future cruelly taken away.
They were in touch constantly and their joint goal involved Bea and her family coming over for a holiday the following summer when the big barn would be converted into two gîtes.
It was Jed’s dream project and Frankie was leaving it all to him, so once he’d kitted out his workshop in the smaller outbuilding, he’d be raring to go. Henri had repeated his offer of work and Jed had agreed to help out with joinery projects but for the most part his focus was on the renovation.
