Once again, the tears flowed freely down her cheeks and as the sound of the rustling leaves intensified around her, it seemed that it was the murmur of ghostly voices from the past calling to her.
Chapter Forty-Four
May 1960
Lucien didn’t show up for supper that evening. His absence didn’t surprise Venetia, in fact she would have been more surprised if he had appeared and sat down to eat as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
Following the events of the afternoon when poor Lucien had been forced to carry out that unspeakable act on Terry Sands, her stomach was a bubbling cauldron of fearful unease. The sight of food filled her with nausea, and unable to eat a thing, she left the dining hall and went in search of Lucien. Drawing a blank in all their usual haunts, an alarming thought occurred to Venetia. What if Terry Sands was right now punishing Lucien for shoving him the way he had? What if he’d dragged him back to his cottage and—
No!She refused to think of that.
There was another possibility, though.
What if angry humiliation drove Lucien to take his revenge on Terry and bring an end to the bullying once and for all?
Driven by a wave of sickening dread at what Lucien might do, and with the light fading and not caring that she should be in the dorm getting ready for bed, she hastened towards Terry’s cottage.
When she reached it, she found that there weren’t any lights on, and the front door was ajar. Her heart hammering against her ribcage, she summoned all her courage and pushed the doorfurther open and crept inside. She’d only taken a few steps when she heard a noise. Or she thought she did. Her heart pounding even harder, she stood very still and heard another noise – a wheezy cough – which she immediately recognised.
‘Lucien, what are you doing here?’ she whispered urgently when she went through to the front room. But before he replied, and in the semi-darkness, she took in the scene of Lucien with a large kitchen knife in his hand, staring down at Terry’s enormous body lying on the floor. The man’s head was resting on the edge of the fireplace, and a puddle of what looked like blood surrounded it. It had soaked into the shabby hearth rug as well.
‘I came to kill him,’ Lucien rasped, his voice barely audible as he struggled to breath. ‘But he was already dead. I think that when I pushed him earlier, he must have cracked his head on the hearth when he fell. Which means … I murdered him anyway.’
Her head spinning, Venetia tried to marshal her thoughts. She reasoned that a dead Terry was better than a live Terry, because a dead Terry could never hurt Lucien ever again or make foul accusations about him. But equally, a dead Terry might lead to Lucien being accused of killing him.
‘Are you sure he’s dead?’ she asked.
‘He’s not breathing,’ Lucien wheezed, ‘and I can’t find a pulse. So yeah, he’s dead all right.’
Venetia trembled at the reality of the two of them standing either side of a dead body and as much as she hated Terry, it was shocking to think that his life had ended because of their actions. Lucien might think he was solely responsible for this, but she was as culpable as her friend. She might not have been the one to push Terry, but had she been in the room she would have done more than push the evil monster.
‘Did you hear me?’ Lucien rasped, his chest heaving with the effort of speaking. ‘I said he’s dead.’
‘I heard you,’ she replied, her own chest tightening in sympathy with Lucien’s. ‘Where’s your inhaler?’
‘I’ve used it.’
‘Then use it again.’
‘I can’t, it’s almost empty. You need to get out of here. Now.’
‘I’m not going without you.’
‘Don’t argue with me; I need to do something and I don’t want you around when I do it.’
‘No way, Lucien, I’m not going anywhere without you.’
‘For God’s sake, just do as I say!’
‘No!’she shouted back at him. ‘Whatever it is you think you’re going to do, I’m doing it with you. We’re in this together.’
‘We’re not! This is my problem. Not yours.’ He paused, and her heart went out to him as he desperately tried to fill his lungs with air. ‘But if you want to be helpful,’ he continued, pressing a finger to the bridge of his spectacles and pushing them up his nose, ‘tell me exactly where the tin of money is which you hid.’
‘Why?’
‘I have to disappear, and I need money to do that.’
‘You’re running away?’
