“Any last words?” She asks, placing her finger on the trigger and gesturing for me to get out of the window. Will I die if I carefully jump out of it? Or is she going to push me hard enough I’ll spike myself on the birdcage of the fountain?
I pathetically can’t think of one thing to say, no parting words, but as I open my mouth, a thick Scottish accent booms from behind Lily and I’m shocked with the feeling of relief and pure confusion.
“I canny understand why money turns you rich ones into little psychos.” Maggie says, before a glint of fat metal smacks against the side of her head, knocking her to the floor.
As the gun flies from her hands, it hits the wall and goes off, the noise ear-shattering and I flinch backwards, nearly toppling right out of the open space.
“Baby Jesus, close that fucking window!” She bellows, swinging the shovel in her hand down onto Lily’s face. Her entire body shudders and collapses, her crumbled body looking like some twisted gothic painting, with her pale skin and golden hair filthy.
“You could have killed me!” I shout, taking in the stocky woman wearing a giant yellow raincoat, bucket hat, and knee-high wellies. She’s trudged mud up the stairs and all over the carpet, which is now puddled with the water dripping from her.
“Like what she was just about to do? Funny way of saying thank you, little lady.” She shakes her head at me, finger pointing down. “I knew something was up with this one when I saw her kiss that new gardener. Slimy fucker. I really started to worry when I couldn’t get in touch with the boys, or the hotel. It flooded right into my kitchen.”
I could kiss this woman right now if she wasn’t scowling at me. “We need to call the police.” I say, but she waves her hand at me.
“Already done. Rang them and said if they didn’t come down here and check if you were all alright, I’d do it myself.” She gestures to her wellies. “Had to wade through the water but I got here. Knew something was up when I had to climb over the bastard gates.” She huffs, walking over to grab the gun between her thumb and index finger.
Frantic shouting and noise rises from downstairs and I move around Lily in a daze, throwing myself down the stairs more confident than a woman with trauma to the body should. The dizziness just seems like a permanent fixture now that fizzes down to my fingertips.
“Roo!? Fucking answer me, where are you?” Wren shouts, his mop of black hair coming into view at the bottom of the stairs. Inever want to see the fear in his expression again, he looks like he’s on the verge of having a panic attack.
“I’m here,” I cry, being lifted from the bottom step into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist.
“I thought–I thought she’d,” He struggles to breathe, pushing his face into the crook of my neck and his body shakes. “I thought she hurt you.”
I stroke his curls and press my face into them, tears starting to soak my face and his head. “Maggie hit her with a shovel.”
He laughs but it twists into a choked sob. “What a legend.”
Stomping down the stairs behind me, her wellies cause utter chaos on the cream carpets but she wields the shovel at us and gestures to the library doors. “Someone peel Mr Redfern from the floor, we’re walking to the gates. The police will be on their way and they won’t get through those. I’ll get our Mabel to bring my metal cutters.”
Moving to look at one another, we both frown before we dumbfoundedly stare at her. She doesn’t like that. “Fucking c’mon, get moving. Get those wankers tied to the radiator and someone grab blondie.”
Wren gasps. “Maggie! You have such a filthy mouth.”
She rolls her eyes. “Nothing my mother wouldn’t say.”
“I knew you were all raised differently up there.” He jokes, to which she shoves the metal tip of the shovel into his side.
“I’m a Yorkshire lass now. Get moving, I’m missing Emerdale.”
I want to argue that there’s this thing called freeview, but I think I’d be next being whacked with the shovel. He doesn’t put me down but carries me with ease, shaggy blonde hair tumbling into our side once we hit the front steps and the rain falls on us.
“Oh thank god, you're both alright.” Phin gasps, not taking me from Wren, but instead wraps his arms around both of us. He’s completely disheveled, face bruised and pupils dilated–but Ithink the fresh air is sobering him a little. “She put something in my drink when I stayed in her room, but I heard everything she was saying to him.” Phin bites on his bottom lip, holding back tears. “She really thinks you pushed Mum, when that was all just a part of my nightmare I let you use. What if I pushed her?” He whispers, my arms grabbing for him and pressing his face into my chest.
“Shut up now, Phin. Get that out of your head. We were five, you couldn’t have done anything.” I say firmly. We were children; we did nothing. His mother was mentally unwell and fell.
The three of us cling to one another as he starts to shake and cry, Wren rubbing his hand down his back whilst the other grips around my waist tightly. Gravel crunches as a small red fiat pulls up to the gates, behind it flashing blue lights glow in the grey fog and sirens echo through the trees.
“Ah thank fuck, that’s our Mabel with the cutters.” Maggie sings, pushing past us and starts the march down the driveway.
All three of us gape at her tiny figure, shovel still in her grip like a mighty sword.
“That woman swears like a sailor.” Phin marvels and we just nod.
That she bloody does.
Chapter thirty-one
