But it was all right. The footsteps had gone back down the stairs, and there was the murmur of voices again, and then the sound of the front door opening and then closing. After that came the unmistakable rushing of water from the plumbing as the tap downstairs was turned on. Donna dared to sit up, and risked a quick flick of the torch to see the time. Half past eleven. She visualized Antonia making herself a last cup of tea or coffee before going to bed. A pity the creature could not be tricked into drinking arsenic along with it.
Several times in the hours that followed she had to cautiously stretch her limbs to ward off the beginnings of cramp. Once she risked standing up, but the old floor timbers creaked so loudly that she froze and did not dare move again.
The hands of her watch crawled around to two, and Donna cautiously pushed the rug aside, sat up, and checked that she had everything she would need. She had fixed on two as the best time to make her move. The police were unlikely to be around at that hour–they had had five or six hours to pursue their investigations and they would hardly be searching the grounds in the pitch dark. The only real risk facing Donna was getting Antonia out of the cottage and into her car, but the car was parked close to the front door and she did not think the risk was so very great. It would mean driving down the narrow access road and onto Quire’s main carriageway but she thought she could do that without switching on the car’s lights and the cottage was far enough from the main house for the engine not to be heard.
She half-crawled, half-slid across to the trapdoor, and working with infinite patience, lifted it out and set it down on one side of the opening. It made the barest scrape of sound–nothing that could possibly be heard below. She secured the hooks of the rope-ladder to the edges of the opening, and climbed down. This was not an entirely silent manoeuvre but she prayed Weston would be asleep. Once on the stairs she took the sandbag from her anorak pocket. Now for it, you murderous bitch!
It was briefly disconcerting to discover the bedroom was empty. Donna stared at the unoccupied bed. Had Weston gone back to Quire House to sleep, and Donna had not heard her go? No, she was still here, Donna had heard her making tea and moving around. And she could feel her presence in the cottage now. She began to steal down the stairs.
As soon as she saw the spill of light from the sitting-room she understood that the creature had remained downstairs for the night in case of a break in. Very clever, Dr Weston, but not quite clever enough. This is it, Donna. This is what you’ve waited five years to do. Her heart racing with a mixture of nervous tension and pulsating excitement, Donna pushed the door wide and went into the room.
There was a deep satisfaction in seeing Weston’s terror as she started up from the sofa, and there was an even deeper one in bringing the sandbag smashing down on Weston’s skull.
She went down as easily as Greg Foster had done, and an emotion so overwhelming and so vast gripped Donna that for a moment she was quite unable to move. She stared down at the unconscious figure. She had never seen Antonia Weston close to; she was smaller than Donna remembered from the trial, and she was thinner. Older. But even though Donna knew she must move quickly, she could not stop looking at the woman who had killed Don. She had not known she would feel like this–exalted and excited–and she had not known that she would hiss those last words to Weston. ‘All this is for Don,’ she had said, because it suddenly seemed vital that Weston understood why she was being punished. Had that been a touch foolhardy? Not really. Antonia would not be able to tell anyone; she would not speak to anyone ever again.
Donna sprinted back up to the landing, and climbing onto the bathroom stool again, dislodged the rope-ladder and slid the trapdoor back into place. She returned the stool to its rightful place, and coiled the rope ladder around her waist; it could easily be burned or flung into the Amber River later on.