Donna Robards knew all about Antonia’s life in prison because she had made it her business to find out.
She had not been drawn into any of the publicity surrounding the trial, and the police had not called her to give evidence. They had interviewed her, of course, and she had told them that her brother’s death and the way he had died would be her life’s tragedy. Disagreements or rows between them? No, not at all. She and her brother hardly ever disagreed, and they certainly never had rows. But although the newspapers had ferreted around to find out about his family, Donna thought they had been looking for something a bit more sensational than an unremarkable sister, and most of them had preferred the angle of Don being alone and defenceless. The tabloids had gone all out for the image of a manipulative, sex-hungry older woman exploiting a younger man’s infatuation. Donna did not think she had been mentioned by any of them.
At the time she had been bitterly resentful at being ignored–she wanted people to know her as Don’s dearly-loved sister–but as the months went along, and as her plan began to take firmer shape, she saw how it would work to her advantage. If people did not know about her–especially the people at Antonia’s hospital–she would be able to work quietly and anonymously against the bitch. In any case, by the time her plan was ready to put into action, anyone who had known that Don had a sister, would have forgotten.
After the first few months they had given Weston a cell to herself, and assigned her to work in the prison library. A very easy imprisonment for the bitch who had killed Donna’s beloved brother, and a very short one, as well! Eight years, that was all they had given her. It was an insult to Don’s memory. On Antonia’s first night in prison, Donna had known that since the stupid courts and the feeble justice system had not been prepared to deal properly with this creature, this seducer of young men, then she would have to do it herself. The hows and the whens of the punishment would need to be carefully thought out, but she had eight years to do that. As for the where…
Donna smiled the secret smile–the smile she had once kept for Don, and that no one else would ever see now. There was only one place where punishment could be properly administered to this murdering bitch, and that was the place of Donna’s own childhood–the place where her parents had taken her and Don every summer.
The tiny market town of Amberwood in Cheshire. Charity Cottage in the grounds of Quire House: the cottage Donna’s parents had liked so much and had rented for a month every summer. A place of great atmosphere, Donna’s mother used to say. So restful.
And on Amberwood’s outskirts was the old mill. Twygrist. Twygrist was not restful. When Donna thought about it–when she thought of what had happened inside it–the smile curved her lips again, and the embryo plan to destroy Antonia Weston took a darker turn. Twygrist.
Could Weston somehow be got to Amberwood when she was released? Once there, could she be lured out to Twygrist?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Maud’s birthday present to Thomasina was a framed charcoal drawing she had made of Thomasina standing in the main doorway of Quire House. She had had it properly framed, and had wrapped it in gold-spangled paper. Thomasina was very pleased; she said they would choose a well-lit place to hang it so people could properly admire it. Perhaps the music room would be a good idea.