‘Go back to your own country!’
Jacob walked closer and I followed, reluctantly, hanging onto him still. When the crowd realised who had arrived, they didn’t so much part for us as surround us. Bob Thornby was there, temporarily putting aside his feud with Phyllis Blakecroft. Ben Miller, Susan and Colin Winston and a lot of the Young clan, including Peter and Jon and their sons, who were adults themselves now. Half the village seemed to be there. Suddenly there was quiet. Expectation.
‘What’s going on?’ Jacob demanded.
‘The Polish kid hurt your Beth.’ It was Martin Young who spoke. Jill glared at him, but he folded his arms, mirroring her pose.
Jacob gave a bark of a laugh, clearly more nervous than he appeared. ‘Aleksy? How do you know this?’
A curtain twitched inside the Jachowski house. Someone peering outside to see if the crowd had dispersed.
‘Is this true?’ Jacob called to them.
That was the trigger for the mob to start again. A surge of insults. Pushing, shoving, faces twisting.
‘I want nowt to do with their type.’
‘They don’t want owt to do with us! They don’t integrate.’
Everyone moved forward. The breath was knocked out of me. Faces of friendly neighbours I’d known my whole life were transformed with hate. Spittle flew from lips.
‘Bloody foreigners!’ yelled Phyllis, apparently forgetting her daughter lived abroad with her Spanish husband.
‘Taking our jobs. Taking over everything!’ spat Colin.
‘They only left the flowers on the marsh ’cos they had a guilty conscience.’
‘He probably nicked ’em from work anyway – he works at the flower factory.’
My instinct told me Aleksy knew something. Maybe he was the one who had hurt you, Beth. Maybe this would scare the truth out of him.
But this baying mob felt wrong.
‘What proof do you have?’ I asked. I could barely be heard over the shouting.
‘This village was always quiet. Suddenly they move here and a girl is attacked!’ Ursula yelled, her perfect pout skewed in a sneer. ‘Who will it be next?’
‘Come on, they’ve been here for over a year, so you can’t say that,’ argued Jacob. But no one listened to your father. The mob’s righteous indignation had somehow given them the right to be angrier than your own parents.
‘What evidence have you got? Any?’ I shouted.
‘They’ve got different ways to us.’ Universal nods to Bob Thornby’s comment.
‘They don’t listen to the law. They’ve all been poaching,’ added Peter.
‘Well, I know for a fact that you go poaching sometimes, Peter Young, so that’s a hell of a thing to accuse people of,’ I shot back.
‘I want to get the person who did this more than anyone, but we need proof,’ said Jacob.
‘So yeah, give us proof,’ I added, hopefully.
Martin planted himself in front of me. His dark eyes bored into me. ‘You’re suspicious of Aleksy, though, aren’t you?’
I hesitated. ‘Well, yes, I think he’s hiding something…’
He stooped, then picked up a rock from the Jachowskis’ garden, trampling on a low shrub in the process.
I looked around for someone to stop this madness. Glenn was lurking in the churchyard, watching but not taking part. Clearly not wanting to get involved. Behind him, hovering in the pub’s doorway, were Dale and your guitar teacher, Mr Harvey, who looked like a scared sheep. Sweeping past them was a police car.
The single whoop of a siren sounded a warning that it was pulling up. People scattered. That was all the officers seemed to want, as they stayed in the car. Eyeing everyone but not bothering to chase. Only Jacob and I remained, along with Jill.
‘Hey, lady, this is your fault. Your questioning and finger-pointing has got the whole village at each other’s throats. Happy now?’ she snapped at me.
‘Hold on a minute, I never encouraged this…’
She looked over at the police car as the door swung ponderously open. It was Flo, with a male colleague. Jill nodded at them as she walked away, slow and deliberate.
The two officers pulled their caps on and sauntered over to me and Jacob. Then stood with their hands on their hips. Alison Daughtrey-Drew cast a curious glance our way as she drove towards The Poacher.
‘Jacob, Melanie… we’ve had reports of a disturbance. Is there a problem?’ asked Flo.
‘Not with us, no,’ said Jacob, explaining that we had only come out when we heard the noise.
The curtain twitched again. Seconds later, Mr Jachowski appeared at the door. When he walked towards us he took small, hesitant steps, despite his rangy frame.
‘My son didn’t do anything,’ he insisted. His accent was thick.
The male officer held up an admonishing hand, trying to keep him quiet. But Jacob got in first.
‘We know. This was just racist nonsense. I’m sorry you’ve had to witness such an ugly thing.’
‘Hang on a second – he is hiding something,’ I cut in. ‘You need to speak to Aleksy.’
‘Melanie, we will find out who attacked Beth, but nothing is going to be achieved through mob rule.’
‘Maybe if you did your job better, people wouldn’t have to turn vigilante,’ I hissed.
‘Come on, Mel, that’s not fair. I’m sure the police are doing all they can,’ offered Jacob.
‘It’s not enough!’ I looked from him to Flo to the other officer. It felt like they were on one side of a wall and I was on the other.
‘Come on, let’s get you home,’ said Flo.
Fine, I’d leave. But DS Devonport would be talking to the Jachowski boy soon – and so would I. I had a feeling we’d both better get in quick, though, before the mob returned. It was inevitable they would be back at some point over the following days or weeks.
I didn’t want things to get out of hand, or for anyone to get hurt. But, despite my guilt, if I’m honest, Beth, I didn’t really mind what they did as long as they helped me find who had hurt you.
Thirty-Eight
From an early age I knew I was special. I’ve fooled people my entire life. No one knew the real me. No one even suspected – friends, family, all taken in. I walked among the rank and file, fitting right in as if I were merely normal; my mask of weakness was my strength. I had the power of a god. I was stronger than a hurricane, as inevitable as the incoming tide, as terrifying as a hawk swooping down on a quivering mouse. I had control over life and death, but these fools couldn’t even see it.
Even when I got away with murder right under their noses, they couldn’t see.
Only one person had ever suspected what I was, and they were no longer a problem.
It was time to have a little carefully planned fun.
I was the scientist; she was my lab rat. She had no idea how I was deceiving her, laying out breadcrumbs for her to gobble up until she hit her head against a brick wall. Again. And again. And again.
Dead end.
Thirty-Nine