Land Girls: The Promise: A moving and heartwarming wartime saga. Roland Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ She knew it wouldn’t play well if she showed fear. If she was paying her respects, then she shouldn’t show fear, should she?

      “Anyway, I’d better get back. Esther will be wondering …” Iris smiled as winningly as she could manage. She took a step towards the door, aware that Vernon was still blocking any escape.

      “Stay a little longer,” he rasped, his words somewhere in that uncertain area between a threat and a pleasant invitation. “Have a drink to my Walter, eh? If you’ve come to pay your respects …”

      He crossed to the sideboard, where a motley and dusty collection of bottles formed a drinks ‘cabinet’. Now the door was unblocked. There was a gap and Iris could make a run for it. But she didn’t want Vernon to suspect that anything was wrong; she didn’t want to alert his suspicions. After all, even if she got past him, she’d have to outrun him all the way back to Pasture Farm.

      “I’d better … you know.” Iris glanced towards the door. To her surprise and relief, he nodded his consent. And as he busied himself pouring a drink at the sideboard, Iris started to walk towards the door, as slowly and as normally as she could manage. She thought she had got away with it, when, without turning his back, Vernon asked a soft and unnerving question.

      “What’s that in your pocket, Iris?”

      She felt her mouth go instantly dry, her breathing becoming more rapid. She stopped in her tracks. He’d noticed what she was doing. How much had he seen?

      “Nothing,” she stammered.

      Now he turned to her. A dark smile on his lips as he looked into her scared eyes. There was no hiding what she felt now.

      “You put something in your pocket.”

      “No, I didn’t.”

      Vernon put his drink down and edged towards her. “Have you been stealing from me, Iris?”

      She shook her head. “No, Mr Storey. I wouldn’t do that.”

      He glanced down towards her pocket, where the end of the handkerchief was poking out. “Show me, then.” Carefully, Iris cupped her fingers around her handkerchief, hoping she could bring the bundle out without its contents falling onto the floor.

      “It’s just my handkerchief.” The wrapped fabric was clasped tightly in her hand.

      To her surprise, Vernon snatched it from her, grasping her wrist tightly with his other hand. As he took it, the handkerchief opened and the fragment of glass fell onto the rug, glinting in the light as it tumbled. They both knew the truth now.

      “No one likes a liar, Iris.”

      “Let me go.” She knew that she had to escape now. There was no point in pretending that she could talk her way out of this one. But Vernon wasn’t about to let go of her wrist. She clawed at his fingers with her free hand, trying to release his grip. He kept a tight grip on her, staring impassively at her. They moved a few steps: a dark, silent dance as Iris tried to free herself, Vernon clasping tightly. Iris felt her head swimming. They were like a couple on the verge of a massive argument, trying to maintain some semblance of control and decency. But Iris realised she would have to do more to escape. She would have to make a scene. She was about to slap him, claw him, do something, when he moved with surprising speed and ferocity towards her.

      Vernon grabbed Iris’s neck and pushed her backwards until she felt the bureau hit the small of her back. She tried to lash out, but he grabbed her clawed hand and pushed her over the desk. On her back, Iris flailed and kicked, desperate to escape. She couldn’t scream as Vernon had his fingers clasped around her throat. She tried to kick again, but only succeeded in upturning the nearby telephone table. The telephone clattered to the floor, the receiver coming away from its cradle.

      “Please don’t …” she gasped.

      “What?” he growled.

      “Kill me.”

      Vernon let out a tight, unnerving laugh. “Why would I do that, you stupid girl?”

      “I know what you did.”

      Vernon’s brow furrowed. Still grasping her throat, tears came to his eyes. He seemed to sag, much like Frank had when he had heard the news about Walter. It was as if her words had ripped away his layers of desperate subterfuge, making it plain that this situation wasn’t going to go away.

      “That’s a dangerous accusation.”

      “How could you kill your own son?” Iris said, emboldened by the reaction her words were having.

      “Shut your mouth.” A low rumble of anger, his fingers tightening around her windpipe. Iris felt her head swimming, as her lungs fought for air. “Do you think I wanted to do it?”

      “You’re hurting me …” It was barely a squawk, as Iris couldn’t gasp enough air to speak.

      Vernon didn’t seem to hear. He was lost in his own justifications for what had happened. “Walter made me lose my temper. I just lashed out. Didn’t think. Didn’t even know I had the bottle in my hand.” Vernon’s eyes were distant, lost in regret and torment. “As he fell, I knew what I’d done. Even before he hit the floor, Iris, I knew what I’d done. Don’t you see?”

      At last, he released his grip and Iris gasped for air. He was still looming over her as her back rested on the bureau. From the corner of her eye, she saw a tractor brochure offering a brand-new machine for rental. Iris wondered if it would be one of the last things she ever saw.

      “What are you going to do with me?”

      Vernon took a step back, releasing his weight from her. He clutched his forehead and shook his head in a violent, distressed manner, as if he didn’t want to be here, in this situation, any more that Iris did.

      “I can’t let you leave, can I?” The words came out tinged with regret and sadness. She knew that he was right. His desperate attempts to cover his tracks had already seen the arrest of an innocent man. Vernon would eradicate any other potential threat that might cause his web of lies to unravel. He was already in too deep. There was no going back.

      Still sprawled over the bureau, Iris knew she couldn’t make it to the door without him dragging her back, and she knew that nothing she could say would alter what was about to happen. That didn’t stop her mind racing, desperately trying to find a solution. The one thing that would stop him.

      “Please,” She gasped, a simple plea for mercy. As soon as she’d said it, she knew it would be ignored. Of course it would. With most of his body still blocking her escape, Vernon bent towards the fireplace and grabbed a poker. Either he hadn’t heard her plea or was choosing to ignore it.

      “You’re a sweet girl, but I can’t let you go.”

      “I won’t tell,” Iris pleaded again. But this time, she wasn’t saying the words to try to change his mind. This time she was trying to buy herself time, as her eyes searched for something – anything – that could help her. There might have been a letter-opening knife on the bureau, but if there was, it was buried under all the paperwork behind her. On the armchair were Vernon’s spectacles, the newspaper. Nothing to help her. The poker was the only ‘weapon’ by the fireplace and Vernon had that. There were bottles on the sideboard, but Iris couldn’t make it СКАЧАТЬ