— I like it here, Jim stresses. — Santa Barbara’s a great town. The kids love it. They love to see your folks. Grace is getting on great at the school, Eve will be there soon. Don’t worry about Harry, he’ll come to his senses. And we’ve got the tape.
Harry was good at stakeouts. He’d felt anxious and excited in equal measure when he learned that the Francis family had returned. He hadn’t dared to go back to the house, but had waited outside the older girl’s school till it was finally Melanie, not the kid’s grandmother, who picked her up. Harry drove back to circle the neighbourhood, where he found that Jim was also present. He risked a glimpse in the rear-view mirror as he passed, and saw him, deathly still, as he supervised a shitting puppy on the front lawn. Turning onto the slip road that snaked above the block of houses where the Francis home was situated, Harry then pulled up. Vaulting over the barrier, into the forested verge that sloped towards the backyard of the target dwelling in that cul-de-sac, he scrambled down the bank, the leather bag containing the assault rifle slung across his back. From above, he could still hear the rumble of the traffic on the freeway. Keeping his distance behind a small oak, shielded in some thick foliage, he found an ideal station.
Taking out his rifle and assembling it, Harry attached the sights. His heartbeat pumped up when he saw to his amazement that his quarry was now in the backyard! Harry scoped Jim Francis, as he bent down to pick up one of the kids, the younger, more demanding child. To his shock and cold revulsion, he found himself moving the sights down past Francis, onto the chubby head of his young daughter. That was the shot that would hurt Francis, and her, Melanie, the most. The urge to just squeeze made him giddy and he felt the rifle shaking as, with a concentrated effort of willpower, he unhooked his finger from the trigger.
No no no…
Not the children. And not Francis either, at least not until Melanie was forced to confront what he was. Until he confessed to her about those men he’d slain on the beach. Killing was easy. But it was a poor compromise. True vengeance, total justice and complete redemption, those were the building blocks of grace, and Harry had to strive for them.
He again focused on Francis, as the kid ran into the house. His prey was looking off into the distance. Even from this range, and with Harry having the power of death trained on him, there was still something about this motherfucker that gave him the creeps. He felt the phantom constriction round his throat, and the rising of his heartbeat was real enough.
Maybe just take that shot…
The sun was almost overhead. Soon the lens of the scope would glint through the bushes, and Francis would pick it up on his blazing, swivel-eyed radar. Harry lowered the weapon, bagged it up and threw it across his shoulder. Clambering up the slope, he pulled himself back over the barrier to the slip road. Got in the car and drove onto the freeway.
The behaviour of his nemesis had convinced Harry that there was now only one way to resolve this. When he struck, it would be decisive, and Jim Francis would be no more. But that alone wasn’t enough. She would know, oh yes, Melanie would know, exactly what she had married, what a tawdry and pathetic lie her life was.
Part Four
June 2016
Brexit
33
RENTON – VICTORIA’S SECRET
The train rolls into Salisbury Station. I’m exiting, saying my farewell tae two young squaddies I chatted wi on the short journey fae Bristol. We were swapping stories and I told them about my brother, blown up in Northern Ireland three decades ago. I felt instantly bad about that disclosure, as it left them oan a bit ay a downer. The older ye get the harder ye have tae fight against being socially inappropriate, becoming mair prone tae narcissistic emotional outbursts. They were nice lads and the fact that they’re in soldier uniform is constant proof that a nation state isnae a kind construct if you urnae rich.
I’m nervous as I’d got no reply after texting Victoria to tell her I wis en route tae Salisbury, and what train I was coming off. I said ah’d see her later at the crematorium. I’m thinking that Willow maybe read this all wrong and the guy who gave her a dose ay the John Knox is the last person she wants tae see at her sister’s funeral. But tae ma surprise, she’s waiting there, on the station platform. She now looks smaller, older and frightened. Circumstance has stripped the vivaciousness fae her. The Californian sun-bleached blonde hair is already fading tae a murky Blighty brunette. She seems both surprised and relieved when ah take her in ma airms and hold her. It was either that or touch her hand and say something too cold. — Oh, Vic, I’m so sorry, I gasp intae her ear, and her tense body relaxes in my embrace, telling me it was the right move. And tae think I had rehearsed clichéd shit like ‘how are you bearing up?’ So irrelevant, as the tears streaming doon her cheeks and her choking sobs provide aw the requisite information. It’s like hugging a pneumatic drill workmen use tae dig roads. But aw I can do is hud oan till they subside a little, then whisper in her ear aboot getting tea.
She looks up, her eyes wet. She wisely hasnae worn mascara. Her lips curl doon in an oddly childlike parody ay misery, which ah’ve never seen fae her before. I take her airm, and as we exit the red-bricked Victorian station, the first thing ah see is the beautiful spired cathedral, which dominates the toon. She takes me tae a touristy tea room on a winding shopping street. It’s a fussy wee low-ceilinged joint, where two women, one an older, determinedly manageress type, the other a younger trainee, are chatting and busying themselves behind the counter. I order some tea and scones, and we sit doon away fae the windae, at Vicky’s urging. Of course: she’ll no want tae display herself tae her home toon in this frame ay mind. — You didn’t need to come down here for me, Mark, she says plaintively, her voice breaking.
— Maybe we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on that one, I tell her. Fuck me, I would take on aw the pain in the world right now, just tae alleviate one moment ay her throttling sadness. I can’t believe I left it so long to see her.
— I’m so sorry, she says, fighting back tears, as her hand reaches across the table and fastens onto mine. — This is so stupid and horrible, and yeah, so fucking embarrassing. She forces a big breath into her lungs. Her voice still seems so small, like it’s coming fae somewhere much deeper inside her than is normal. — I was kind of seeing somebody for a while, this guy Dominic… She halts as the younger lassie nervously approaches wi the tea and scones I ordered, setting them doon oan the table. I smile at her, catching the disapproving eye ay the manageress, who looks at ays as if ah intend tae pimp the girl oot.
As she leaves, Vicky continues. — Dominic and I weren’t exclusive, but you know that… and he didn’t look after himself…
Fuck… I don’t believe it… Not Vicky, no my English Rose… my English Bonnyrigg Rose…
—… You were away, and we hadn’t really talked, like defined where we were going with all this, she looks downcast, —… I felt a vibe, but I worried that I was being presumptuous…
Fucking hell, man, what the fuck… The tea room is so frightfully English, with its drapes, cluttered faux-country artefacts, and delicate bone-china cups and saucers. I feel like we’re two sticks ay Semtex in a decorative cake tin. — We really don’t need tae do this now, honey, I tell her, but I know she couldnae stop if she wanted tae.
Vicky shakes her head and smiles tightly, no really hearing ma intervention. — Anyway, he gave me something, brought me a present back from Thailand… She looks up at me.