‘But she may not be.’
‘Isn’t life unfair?’ said Annie, with a wink.
Terry returned with a pot of tea and four matching blue mugs on a tray, which he set down on a low glass table in front of the sofa. He still walked with a slight limp, but had shed the walking stick he had used when Banks first met him a couple of years ago. He was a tall, fit young man in his early thirties, maybe a year or two older than Winsome, with a strong jaw, clear blue eyes, close-cropped fair hair and a boyish grin. His beagle, Peaches, lay content in front of the crackling and spitting log fire. Banks could see the garden all misty with drizzle through the window.
Once they each had a mug of hot tea warming their hands, Banks asked Terry if he would recount what happened.
‘Of course.’ Terry sat on the edge of the sofa, set his tea on the tray and kept hold of Winsome’s hand while he talked. ‘The service ended and we all piled outside. Well, some of us did. The photographer was trying to get everyone from the main party organised into groups for the photos, but you know what it’s like. Some people were chatting. A couple lit cigarettes. He was getting frustrated because everyone was having a bit of a laugh instead of standing in their assigned groups, and it was taking so long.’
‘Do you remember the first shot?’ Banks asked.
‘I was about five feet away, kneeling to chat with Megan, the flower girl, when I heard a crack and I saw Laura spin around and fall in a heap. I didn’t realise it was a shot at first because the bells were so loud, but I could see blood on the front of her white dress, and I then knew what had happened.’ He paused and shook his head slowly. ‘It was as if I’d never been away. For a moment, I was right back there in Helmand. I think everyone just froze for a split second. Of course, we didn’t know to expect more shots, or what. All I knew was that Laura had been hit. Bad, by the looks of it. Then I suppose my training kicked in about the same time as someone started screaming. My first thought was to get everyone back into the church in case he fired again. I thought they would be safe in there. Before I could even begin, though, while most of us were still rooted to the spot, there was another shot.’
‘Can you remember who was hit next?’
Terry closed his eyes. ‘Yes. The second shot hit Ben. That’s Benjamin Kemp. The bridegroom. My friend. My God,’ he said, putting his free hand to his mouth then wiping his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s OK, Terry,’ Annie told him. ‘Take your time.’
‘He’s right so far,’ said Winsome. ‘It was Fran next. Francesca Muriel, Laura’s maid of honour. I was talking to her at the time, telling her to head for the church. It was... I don’t know... her head... it just... cracked open, disintegrated. Like Terry says, we hadn’t really had time to react to what had happened yet. I turned to run back to the church, trying to urge people on before me. That’s when the bullet grazed my shoulder. So I think I may have been the fourth victim.’
‘The photographer was hit around then, too,’ said Terry. ‘And Dave Hurst, one of the guests.’
‘So the two of you were directing people towards the church?’
‘They were completely freaked out,’ said Terry. ‘Running around like... well... you know, chickens. I suppose I was thinking more professionally then, and I knew by the spaces between the shots that whatever make the gun was, it was a single-bolt, not an automatic, and we could be thankful for that. It gave us a bit more time. I remember glancing up at where the shots had come from, but all I could see then was a sort of small black smudge on the edge of the hill. A sniper, or so I thought.’
‘By this time,’ Winsome said, ‘people were starting to get the picture and rush back towards the church doors without my having to tell them. There was a bit of a jam, and I think the next victim was Diana. Diana Lofthouse, another one of the bridesmaids.’
‘Yes,’ said Terry. ‘He shot her in the back just as she was getting near the church door.’
‘That makes seven shots,’ said Banks. ‘There were ten in all. Do you remember who was next?’
‘Charles, I think,’ said Terry. ‘Ben’s father.’
‘I saw none after Diana,’ said Winsome. ‘I was too busy trying to get people into the church. The problem was that there were even a few people who’d stayed inside now trying to get out again to see what was going on. It was a bottleneck.’
‘Did you notice the next victims?’ Banks asked Terry.
‘Not clearly,’ he said. ‘Not by then. Like Winsome, I was too busy trying to get people out of the way. I had little Megan, the flower girl, in my arms, and she was crying. I think I saw Charles go down next — that’s Ben’s father — then Katie, but I couldn’t swear to the order. Katie was just standing there, frozen to the spot. I was on my way over to her. She took one in the stomach and fell back against a gravestone. I don’t know if she’ll make it. She’d lost a lot of blood.’
‘Katie Shea’s still critical,’ said Banks. ‘Same with Benjamin Kemp.’
‘I know there were others hurt,’ Terry went on. ‘David, I think, was shot in the leg quite late on. The photographer was hurt, too. He was holding his eye and it was bleeding. Others had just frozen, like Katie. They couldn’t move. Laura’s mother, Maureen. I had to go back and pick her up and carry her in. And Denise was kneeling beside Charles, her husband. She didn’t want to leave him, but I managed to get her inside. I knew he was dead.’
‘You saw the shooter running away, right?’
‘I saw a dark figure running diagonally down the hillside towards the south, yes. But he was too far away for me to see any detail. He was carrying some sort of long object at his side. It could have been a rifle.’
‘You’re sure it was a man?’
Terry wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. ‘Sorry. I’m jumping to conclusions. He was a fair distance away. But what kind of woman would do a thing like that?’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Banks. ‘A lad from the youth hostel saw the same figure — at least, we’re pretty sure it must be the same figure. He seems quite certain it was a man. Something to do with the way he moved, his shape.’
‘I couldn’t see where he went, or any car. I know what your witness means about the way he moved, though. I think that’s one of the things that made me assume it was a man. There were no more shots after I saw him run off, so he must have been the shooter.’
‘Anything to add, Winsome?’
‘Nothing. I was inside the church while all this was going on. I just remember hearing another two or three shots after I got the door closed. It’s still all jumbled up in my mind. Someone made them stop ringing the bells. It was terrible, the noise, and the shots. Terry came in after a while and found me. He told me the shooter was gone and he was going to help the people who’d been hurt out there, that I should stay with the people inside. Maureen took care of me. Maureen Tindall. That’s Laura’s mother. She was in a bit of a trance, but she used to be a nurse. She sort of went on automatic. I’m sorry, but that’s about all I can remember. Terry was in and out a few times, checking on me and the others, then trying to tend to the wounded in the graveyard until the paramedics arrived.’
‘Terry?’
‘Same here.’ Terry finished his tea.
‘So let me get this clear,’ Banks said. ‘You’re both pretty certain that Laura was the first victim, then Ben, then Francesca, then possibly the photographer Luke Merrifield, Dave Hurst and Winsome, then Diana, Charles Kemp and Katie Shea?’
‘I can’t be a hundred per cent sure about Katie and Charles,’ said Terry. ‘I was more concerned with getting people to safety by then.’
‘And I saw none after Diana, as I told you,’ said Winsome. ‘I was inside the church by then. Do you think it means something? The order?’