Midnight is a Lonely Place

LXVIII

‘Ma, go and take a break. I’ll sit with him.’ Greg put his hand on his mother’s shoulder. Roger was asleep, his breath coming in harsh rasping gasps.

Diana shook her head. ‘I’ll stay, Greg.’ She looked up at him through her tears. ‘It could happen at any time now.’

Greg bit his lip. Silently he knelt beside her, ignoring the pain which shot from his foot through every nerve in his body. ‘It’s what he wanted. To be at home,’ he repeated softly.

‘I know.’ She laid her head for a moment on her husband’s chest.

Roger opened his eyes. ‘Not gone yet,’ he whispered. ‘I’m trying to think -’ he paused, barely able to speak. ‘Famous last words – ’

‘How about Sod you, Marcus, I’m coming to get you,’ Greg said bitterly.

‘Greg!’ Diana was horrified.

‘No. He’s right,’ Roger whispered. ‘It gives me – a goal.’ His eyes closed and for several seconds he struggled for breath.

‘Hush now, love.’ Diana put her hand on his forehead. ‘Save your strength.’

‘What for?’ The grim humour kept on coming. ‘I won’t need strength – where I’m going.’ He managed a faint smile.

‘That’s right. Sock it to him, Dad.’ Greg had a tight hold of his father’s hand.

Around them the room was growing colder. Diana shivered. The candle burning low on the table beside the bed flickered violently.

‘Greg.’ Roger opened his eyes again. ‘Get the archaeological boys in. Get them to turn over that grave. Every inch. Find out what it is that bastard is trying to hide and tell the world.’

Another gust of wind seemed to blow through the room. The candle flared again and then went out, trailing smoke.

Diana let out a small cry of distress.

‘He doesn’t like it!’ Roger gave a croaky laugh. ‘He wants to keep that grave a secret. It’s up to you, Greg. Everything is up to you now -’ His voice trailed away. In the faint light flickering through the window the room was all shadows.

For a moment the silence was so profound Greg stared round, afraid. It was as though he were seeing the room through a sheet of glass. Uncomprehending, he kept on clutching his father’s hand, then suddenly he realised where the silence came from. Roger’s harsh breathing had stopped. Blinking back his tears he bent and kissed the cold hand in his. ‘Ma – ’

‘I know.’ She was sobbing quietly. ‘He’s gone. Oh, Greg – ’

Neither moved for a long time, then slowly and painfully, Greg climbed to his feet. He put his arm round Diana’s shoulders. ‘Come through to the warm. I’ll make you some tea.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to leave him – ’

‘He’ll be all right. You must come. It’s so cold in here – ’

Somehow he managed to help her up. For a moment they both stood looking down at his father’s face, relaxed now, looking younger and happier than it had for a long time, then suddenly Diana tore herself away from Greg’s arm.

‘All right, you bastard!’ She screamed into the room. ‘Are you satisfied now? You’ve killed another man. But he’s better than you. A good man, and he’ll hunt you down. He’ll follow you to hell and back if he has to!’ She burst into tears again. ‘Now get out of my house! Get out and don’t come near any of us again!’

‘Ma.’ Greg caught her hand. ‘Ma, come away. This isn’t doing any good.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Through her tears she turned on him like a spitting cat. ‘Well it’s doing me some good! I want that bastard Roman out of here for ever. He’s not taking my house. He’s not taking my children! We’ll tell the world about him. We’ll tell the world he’s a murderer and a liar and a cheat. He killed that poor woman. He killed Bill. And now he’s killed my Roger -’ She broke down in sobs.

Somehow Greg managed to pull her away. In the sitting room Cissy had managed to get to her feet, her face white. ‘Diana -?’

‘Dad’s dead.’ Greg steered his mother towards the sofa and pushed her down. ‘Please, Cissy, put on the kettle. She needs some tea. And some brandy.’

‘Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.’ Cissy touched Diana on the shoulder, then she limped across the room to the Aga. She was shaking violently. Her arm, roughly bandaged and in a sling, hurt like hell, but she ignored it as she manoeuvred the kettle onto the hotplate. As she did so, there was a deafening bang from upstairs. She spun round. ‘What was that?’

Greg was standing over his mother. At the sound he had turned. In two painful strides he was at the door.

Behind him Susie curled up on her chair and buried her face in a cushion. Cissy ran to her and put a protective arm around her.

Diana’s face was white, her eyes glassy. ‘It’s begun,’ she whispered.

‘What has?’ Greg opened the door and peered up the stairs.

‘Your father and Marcus.’

Greg swung round. ‘You don’t believe that – ’

‘Your father is trying to protect us.’

Greg stared at her for a moment. Then he turned, and hauling himself with difficulty up the banisters, he disappeared upstairs. There was a long silence. Three pairs of eyes were fixed on the door. Then they heard him coming back. He appeared and closed the door behind him. He was shaking with the effort of negotiating the stairs on his injured foot. ‘Nothing,’ he said. The words were no sooner out of his mouth when there was another bang, louder than the first.

Diana let out a sob. ‘Roger. Be careful.’

‘Ma -’ Greg went and sat down beside her. Putting his arm around her he pulled her against him tightly. ‘It’s probably the house timbers expanding or contracting in the cold. It’s not Dad – ’ He glanced at Cissy. ‘The brandy.’

Cissy, her face white, nodded. She collected bottle and glasses from the dresser and brought them back to the fire. Her hand shook so much as she poured it that the liquid spilled on the hearth. She handed Diana half a tumblerful. Not noticing, Diana took a sip. She coughed violently and handed the glass to Greg who drank in turn. They were all waiting, ears straining for another bang.

The silence lengthened. It was several minutes before they realised that the familiar smell of woodsmoke and polish in the room had been replaced by the scent of jasmine.