‘You know what it says. You’ve papered your downstairs loo with these things.’
‘Can’t read it without my glasses,’ she said, sticking her chin out.
‘Jesus, Martha. It says you’re happy to talk to me without a lawyer.’
Martha nodded.
‘Not good enough. Sign the sheet,’ Kim said, rolling the pen towards her. Kim wasn’t taking any chances. For a woman who dressed like a tramp and smelled like a council dump, she sure could afford decent legal counsel when she wanted to.
With a flourish, Martha signed her name a good inch away from the signature line. ‘Happy now?’
‘Okay, Martha, I’ve got other shit to do. Tell me what went on.’
‘He’s an arsehole.’
Kim sighed; she didn’t need the history lesson. ‘I know what you think of the Hubbards, but it ain’t new. You’ve never shot them before, so why now?’
‘He’s a fucking paedophile.’
‘No, he isn’t,’ Kim said. That was one of many accusations she’d made against him. ‘There’s never been any complaint against him.’
‘He was a teacher.’
‘So what? That doesn’t make him one. You’ve gotta stop making accusations.’
‘It’s incest, the two of them. They’re brother and sister.’
Kim groaned. ‘No, they’re not, and you know it.’
Another one of Martha’s outlandish claims that had been disproven years ago.
‘They do them rituals, you know. Every full moon, the two of them head down to the old potato field and sacrifice puppies, kittens and?—’
‘Enough,’ Kim said, resting her elbows on the table. ‘This has gone on for decades. Do you even remember why you hate them so much?’
‘Before my time. Goes back before my great-grandparents. They wronged us bad.’
‘How?’ Kim asked, genuinely perplexed at how a grudge could stay alive for so long.
‘I dunno,’ Martha said, looking down at her dirty nails.
Kim frowned. ‘You’re lying. You do know what started it.’
‘How would I? I wasn’t even born, yer stupid sow.’
‘Martha, once more and I’ll bloody feed you back to the pigs out there.’
‘All right. I don’t know, I swear, but we ain’t giving in on my watch. I’ll go to my grave with hatred for that family in my heart.’
Surely there was going to be a generation that decided peace was better than war?
‘So, you shot him?’ Kim asked.
‘Sure did,’ she said, sitting back and folding her arms across her chest.
‘You know he’s badly injured?’
‘I. Don’t. Give. A. Shit.’
