Page 120 of Vengeance is Mine

Harry was wrapped up in a thick winter coat with gloves and a bobble hat. Despite the heat of the roaring bonfire, he was cold. Barbara came out to join him. She stood well back while Harry added items to the flames. Dressed in layers like Harry to stave off the cold, she fought back the tears, watching the last remnants of her daughter’s life going up in flames. It was too late to change her mind now.

She looked down at the pile still to be burned. The last box she had added was still there.

‘You’re not wanting to burn these, surely,’ Harry said, rummaging through a box.

‘What?’

‘These old annuals.’

‘Harry, we’ve been through all this. We’ll be here until midnight if you start going through them again. Just lob them on the fire. Here, give them to me.’

Barbara took the handful of books from her husband, walked over to the bonfire and threw them into the centre of the roaring mound. She turned around and slapped her hands together. ‘See, that’s how you do it. Your lips are turning blue. Would you like me to make you a mug of hot chocolate?’

‘I’d love that, thank you,’ he replied.

Barbara went into the cold house and set about making them both a hot drink. She looked in the fridge to see if there were any KitKats left to keep them going until the potatoes were baked. She turned around to find Harry standing in the doorway.

‘Oh, bloody hell, Harry,’ she said, a hand slapped to her chest. ‘You scared the life out of me. Shouldn’t you be out there, keeping an eye on the fire? We don’t want it getting out of control. If her-next-door’s fence goes up, there’ll be hell to pay.’

‘I found this in one of the boxes,’ Harry said, taking a long grey coat from behind his back and holding it out to her.

‘So?’

‘So, it isn’t Stephanie’s.’

‘No. Well, like I said, while we’re burning things, we may as well see if there’s anything else we want to get rid of.’

‘It’s not yours either.’

‘I know it’s not. It belonged to Angela,’ she said, referring to her sister. ‘Remember, when she died, I cleared out her house. I kept a load of her clothes and just stuck them up in the attic. They’ve been there fifteen years or so. May as well get rid of them now.’

‘And what about this?’ Also from behind his back, Harry produced a black shoulder-length wig.

‘It’s what she wore when she had cancer, Harry. Don’t wave it around like that, just throw it on the fire.’

Harry didn’t say anything. He stood there with a stony expression, glaring at his wife.

‘Harry, what’s wrong?’

‘A long synthetic black hair was found in Dominic Griffiths’ house the day after he was killed.’

‘What?’ Barbara asked, steadying herself against the worktop.

‘Those men who beat Dominic half to death said they were interrupted by a couple coming up the path. The woman was wearing a long grey coat and she had dark shoulder-length hair.’

‘Oh, come on, Harry, you don’t seriously think it was me, do you? How long have you known me?’

‘I know you’ve wanted Dominic dead ever since he was released. I know you’ve been trying to convince me from day one that he should have paid with his life.’

‘Well, he should have.’ She tried to laugh off his ridiculous notion. ‘Harry, wanting a person to spend their life in prison, or wishing them dead, is one thing. It doesn’t mean to say I’m going to go out there and actually do it.’ The kettle boiled, and she turned to finish making the hot chocolate.

‘I need to call Terry.’ Harry turned away and went into the living room.

She slammed the kettle down on the worktop. ‘What? Why?’ she asked, running after him.

‘They can do tests. See if that synthetic hair matches this wig.’

‘Harry, don’t be ridiculous. All synthetic hairs are the same. It will probably match with a thousand different wigs. Harry, please,’ she said, pulling on his arm.