‘Was?’
‘Yes, he died,’ said Darryl, matter-of-factly screwing the lid back on the plastic bottle. ‘Well, I killed him if we’re being frank… and that’s another name, Frank.’ He giggled again. ‘Why is it “Joe Public” and not “Frank Public”? Have you never heard of the phrase “Joe Public”? To describe the ordinary man on the street.’
Beth shook her head, tears filling her eyes.
‘Well, that’s me. I’m an ordinary Joe. Ordinary, but with so much to give, and girls like you… Like YOU,’ he shouted angrily, jabbing a finger at her accusingly. ‘Bitches like YOU who are so shallow. You want looks and money and someone who you THINK is right for you. But how do you know I’m not right?’ Beth stared up at him, and even in her fear and horror could see the irony in what he was saying. Then it dawned on her that he really was crazy. ‘Bitches like YOU always give me this fucking snooty look. So fucking snooty!’ Darryl was getting really worked up now, spittle was flying from his mouth and he was slamming his hand down on the top of the cage.
‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sure you’re lovely,’ she gulped, and winced, knowing she’d chosen the wrong words. ‘Not lovely, handsome, and sexy.’
‘Oh, NOW I’m sexy, am I? Well you know what, bitch? It’s too late! I saw how you looked at me last night. It took one second and you JUDGED ME! You know, if you’d just smiled back and been nice to me… then this, THIS, wouldn’t have had to happen!’
Grendel barked and came trotting over to the cage. He seized her by the scruff of the neck and pushed her towards the bars. She gave a deep growl and bared a set of glistening white teeth.
‘No! Please!’ cried Beth.
‘Yes. You should meet my dog properly,’ he said, dragging Grendel by the scruff of her neck around to the gate of the cage.
‘What are you doing? I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything, please!’ cried Beth, shrinking back as Grendel began to bark and growl, her lips curled back.
Taking one hand off Grendel, Darryl unlocked the cage, and opened the door. Grendel was snarling, and trying to bite his hand. He twisted the fur on her neck and he pushed her inside the cage.
Beth screamed as the dog pounced on her.
Chapter Seventy
Mary had been shopping, and was driving back up to the farm when she saw the road ahead was blocked by a skittish herd of sheep. She recognised the yellow dye mark on their backs, and knew that they belonged to their neighbour, Jim Murphy. Her husband and Jim had a respectful rivalry, and she hadn’t seen Jim for a long time. She sat patiently as the sheep flooded out of an open gate to the side of the lane, and then moments later, Jim followed. He walked with a stoop, and wore a pair of trousers and jacket that looked to be disintegrating. He dug in his crook as he walked, and turned. He was about to pass her car off as belonging to one of the villagers, then clocked who she was. He stopped and lifted a hand. Mary pulled forward and came level.
‘Afternoon,’ he said. His face was weather-beaten, and he had a scar running across his temple.
Mary nodded and smiled. ‘Spring will be here soon,’ she said, looking at the sheep skittering away down the lane.
He nodded sagely. ‘What you up to?’
‘I’ve been shopping, for the week,’ she said, then noticed that the back seat was covered with boxes of wine and several bottles of vodka. She liked that he didn’t bat an eyelid.
‘I miss having someone shop for me,’ he said sadly. His wife had died two years before.
‘You know,’ said Mary, gripping the wheel, ‘you should come over sometime for supper.’
He waved her away. ‘I can’t think of anything worse than being stuck opposite John, watching him slop his food.’
Mary laughed.
‘Say,’ he added, leaning on the roof of her car. ‘Have you got a new lad working for you?’
‘No.’
‘It’s just that bottom gate has been left open a couple of times when I’ve come past. I know it only leads up to the old Oast House, but the padlock’s been left open.’
Mary stared back at him.
‘Course, I just closed it and locked it back up, but I thought you’d want to know, in case someone you don’t want has got hold of the key… I know you probably steer clear of there, after…’
He looked at the ground. After your Joe hung himself down there, he was going to say. Mary bit her lip to compose herself.
‘Thanks, Jim. I’ll mention it to John,’ she said.
Jim nodded, still looking at the ground. Just then a car came up behind them.
‘I’d best be off,’ she said. He nodded and touched the brim of his cap and, with a smile, she drove away.
The last of the sheep were just vanishing through a gate further up, on the opposite side of the road, and one of Jim’s young farmhands raised a hand in greeting as she passed. Mary waved back and then drove on, her brow furrowed. No one who worked for them had a key to that gate. The only keys were in the office at home.
* * *
When Mary got home, she called out to Darryl to help her with the shopping, but he wasn’t in, nor was Grendel. She went to the office and checked the board where all the keys were hung up. The set for the gate was hanging on its hook. She reached out to take them, and hesitated. She pulled her hand back and went to fetch in the shopping, and pour herself a large drink.
Chapter Seventy-One
When Grendel had pounced into the cage, barking and snarling, Beth had closed her eyes, expecting to be savaged. In the back of her mind she’d hoped that the dog would do it quick and fast. She’d squeezed them shut tighter and braced herself, but there was nothing. Just some odd gulping noises, and then she’d flinched as she felt something rough and warm. The dog had started to lick her face. She remained very still, wincing with fear as it continued to lick, and then she realised it was cleaning the wound on her forehead, licking the dried crusted blood from around her nose. It finished, and Beth opened her eyes. The huge white face loomed close, staring at her with small beady eyes. Then it turned, and trotted out of the cage.
Darryl was silent. He closed the door of the cage and fed a large sliver padlock through, and he snapped it shut. Beth shifted, feeling the pull of the chain circling her neck. Grendel moved to the door, and flopped down onto the uneven brick floor of the furnace.
‘Grendel likes you,’ he said.
‘What?’ she croaked.
‘The dog is called Grendel. She usually hates women…’
‘She’s… She’s sweet.’
‘You don’t think that,’ said Darryl, watching her. He was deciding what to do next.