Short Story Sunday:Latchberry Farm [Part Three]

It was Fanny’s turn to soothe the baby. She roused her body and willed it to cross the floor to the crib. Once the infant was in her arms, she reflected on her simultaneous joy and fear. She had lost so many others before. How could she be sure that this one was here to stay?

 

            “Everything all right?”

            She saw Hugh’s head rise above the covers.

            “Fine, love. Go back to sleep.” She settled into the rocking chair and began to hum. She hadn’t heard George return last night. He said Susie needed him before he left. It wasn’t like him to be talkative, but when he felt strongly about something then George didn’t keep quiet. The sunlight sneaked past the curtains and hit the wall of the cabin just above her head. She heard Hugh sigh.

            “Do you want tea before I go?”

            “Thank you, love.”

            If her moans were anything to go by, the baby was hungry. Fanny muttered to her as she prepared to suckle.

            “I see George isn’t back.” Hugh stacked the twigs for the fire.

            “Susie must have needed him.”

            “It’s more than that.” He leant back as the kindling caught fire. “He was out of sorts since he saw Sebastian yesterday.”

            Fanny swallowed. “When were you going to tell me?”

            Hugh stood and fetched the pail to collect water. “Didn’t want to worry you, love, now the baby is here.” He stepped outside.

            The baby. Her sense of unease had been right but it was misplaced. With Sebastian back, there was no telling how the neighbourhood would react. The baby jerked and fussed. She raised her to her shoulder and rubbed her back.

            “What do you think of the name ‘Cara’?” Hugh placed the bucket on the table and water sloshed over the sides. “It’s a strong name for our little survivor.”

            “Cara.” She felt the word form in her mouth. “Cara Elizabeth.”

            “I like it. I’ll call on the vicar so we can make it official.”

            “She’s officially still hungry. All right, little one, don’t fuss.”

            Hugh turned his back on Fanny and offered up a prayer for George, for Cara and for Sebastian.

Amelia had not slept. When Jacob arrived just after midnight with blood on his hands and tears in his eyes, she cursed Sasha. He stopped long enough to wash and saddle his horse before going to find Sheriff Fincher and Dr Patterson. She had tried to convince him to take her with him, but something in his voice warned her not to argue. Sleep did not claim her. Instead, she busied herself with making bandages, chopping vegetables for stew and darning the holes in her stockings. At first light, she blew out the candle and waited for some sign of her son. She must have nodded off moments before the rapping began at the door.

            “Mrs Mortimer, open up.” James Fincher’s eyes were bleary.

            She smoothed her hair and opened the door. “Morning, Sheriff. Do come in.”

            “Not this morning, ma’am. Jacob sent me.”

            “Is everything all right?”

            “Yes, ma’am. He said to tell you he will be home later. Poor lad has had a night of terror.” When he saw the look on her face, he said, “Not to worry, ma’am. After a bowl of stew and a rest, he’ll be good as new.”

            “Where is he now?”

            “Still with Miss Sasha, I believe. The poor girl’s had a nasty bump on the head. Can’t remember a thing about last night.”

            “And Sebastian?”

            “Between you and me, ma’am, the blighter had a few enemies around these parts. The trick will be to find which one introduced him to the Reaper.”

            “I had no idea.”

            “I’d best be going, ma’am.”

            “Can’t I persuade you to stay for tea?”

            “Thank you, ma’am, but duty calls.” He touched the rim of his hat and retraced his steps across the yard.

            Amelia watched him grow smaller and then her decision was made. She threw some supplies into her basket and trailed Fincher to Latchberry Farm.

“Deep breath for me now.” Dr Patterson’s face was lined as he concentrated. “Good.” He felt her forehead again. No change. “So it doesn’t hurt anywhere but your head, correct?”

            “Yes. I think I hit it on the floor when I fell.”

            “Right. And based on our conversation you seem to know who and where you are.”

            “I just can’t remember any more about last night. I have tried.” Sasha looked at Jacob, who was leaning on the door jamb.

            “It’s understandable. You have quite a bruise.” Dr Patterson collected his things and placed them in his bag. “I can only recommend the usual treatment for the headache. You don’t seem to have broken anything, which is a relief. Perhaps you should stay in bed today and rest.”

            “What about Sebastian? There are things to arrange. People need to be notified.”

            “I’ll see to that.” Nobody had heard Amelia come in.

            “Mother, I thought the sheriff told you...”

            “He did, but I couldn’t sit around and wait any more. You heard the girl, there are arrangements that need doing and I can see to that.”

            “You are a saint for offering, Mrs Mortimer, but I cannot accept.”

            “Sasha, be quiet. The doctor has told you to stay in bed. If I have to wait around any longer, I will drive myself mad.” Amelia cursed Sasha’s bloody-mindedness. “Jacob, go home and sleep. I left you some breakfast, so make sure you eat it. Dr Patterson, come with me.” When nobody responded, she raised her voice. “Move it. Now.” She stepped out of Sasha’s room with its cloying overtones and waited for Dr Patterson.

            Jacob stayed back. “I’m right behind you, Mother. I just want to say goodbye to Sasha.”

            “Hurry up.” Amelia took Dr Patterson’s arm. “Where’s the body?”

            He led the way to the guest room.

“Your mother is terrifying.”

            “I prefer to call it ‘protective’. I am all she has.” He sat on the bed. “Are you sure you are all right?”

            “Of course. A murder happens in my house and I have three strapping men running to my aid. How could I not be?”

            “Sasha, you don’t fool me.”

            Her tears gave way. “Damn you, Jacob. I was trying to be strong.”

            “I know.”

            “It still doesn’t feel real. He was my oldest friend.”

            Amelia called him.

            “Will you come back later?” She took his forearm.

            Jacob nodded. “I promise.” He kissed her forehead and stood. “Get some rest.” When he reached the door, she said his name. He faced her.

            “I’m scared. What if the person who killed Seb comes back for me?”

            “Sleep now. I’ll see you in a bit.” It took all the reserves of his strength to walk out of the room and downstairs when his instinct was to hold her. He found Dr Patterson and his mother.

            “Ah, here’s Fincher now. I think he’ll be able to give us the say-so about moving the deceased.”

            “Fair enough, Doctor.” Amelia studied his clothes. “I daresay there’s more blood on your jacket than I would have imagined. Was he a spurter?”

            Dr Patterson coloured. “No.” He looked at his clothes. “I hardly notice any more.”

            Fincher stamped his boots on the porch before entering. “Morning, all. How’s Sasha?”

            “She’s in bed. Dr Patterson has finished examining her.” Amelia answered first.

            “Ah, yes. Good.” He looked at Dr Patterson. “Any luck with her memory?”

            “Afraid not. She had quite a blow to the head.”

            “Well, these things can’t be helped.”

            “Jacob, go home. I can handle it from here.” Amelia shooed him out of the door, leaving him no time to greet the others. “How soon can we move that body, Sheriff? I don’t fancy having to wash the sheets any more than necessary.”

            “The sheets will have to stay with him, ma’am. They’re evidence. I’ve sent for the ambulance buggy. It should be here within the hour.”

            “Would you mind if I went too?” Dr Patterson felt Amelia sap his energy with her efficiency.

            “Not in the slightest. Thank you, Doc.” Fincher ignored Amelia’s scowl. Dr Patterson waved at them and left with his bag. “Mrs Mortimer, I am going to examine the rest of the house for clues. Perhaps you could make us some tea?”

An awareness of the weight on her was the first thing Susie noticed as she woke. George was lying on top of the bedclothes and his arm pinned her in place. He smelt of mud and wool and his beard tickled the back of her head. She shifted, hoping to wake him so that he would move off her, but his breathing did not change.

            “George.” She kept her voice low.

            He grunted and stood, dusting imaginary fluff from his trousers.

            She sat up. “Were you here all night?”

            “You asked me to stay.” He rubbed his eyes.

            “Thank you.”

            He nodded.

            “What time is it?”

            George looked out of the window. “Late. I should go.”

            “Let me make you some breakfast. It’s the least I can do.” She stood and put on her gown.

            “All right.” Another hour wouldn’t change the fact that he was late.

            There was a knock on the door. Susie flinched.

            George tried to flatten his hair and jacket, but sleep had creased both. He opened the door.

            “Ah, George.” It was Fincher. He cleared his throat. “Is Susie in?”

            George stood back and let him see.

            “Right. Susie, I take it you haven’t heard the news?”

            “No, sir.” Susie pulled her gown tighter.

            “A spot of bother at Miss Sasha’s. She had a guest, a Mr Sebastian Faulkner, staying last night.”

            “Yes.” Her voice was small.

            Fincher took a breath. “Well, the blighter’s gone and got himself killed.”

            George anticipated Susie’s collapse and caught her as she fell. He seated her on a chair.

            “When?” said Susie.

            “Last night. Jacob Mortimer found him.” He retrieved a notepad from his jacket. “Now, I’d appreciate it if you let me ask a few questions about your whereabouts. Purely routine, see.”

            “Yes.”

            “And you, George?”

            “Yes,” he said.

            “Right. Where were you between eleven-thirty and one last night?”

            Susie didn’t stop shaking, so George answered. “We were here, Sheriff. I came to check on Susie when I heard Sebastian was back. She asked me to stay.”

            Fincher looked at the bed. “Yes, I can see that.”

            “He’s really dead?”

            “Yes. I found him with his chest cut open and a knife in his stomach.”

            George covered his mouth.

            “Susie, if you don’t mind my saying, I’m glad he’s gone. After what happened, I think he deserved it. But that’s just between us, mind.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I think I’ve got what I need. Good day to you both.” Fincher’s eyes lingered on the bed before meeting George’s. The door slammed behind him.

            “It’s over.” Susie began to whimper.

            “I doubt that.”

            She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “What do you mean, George?”

            “They don’t know who did it and they’ll want someone to hang for the murder.”

            She stood and clasped his shoulders. “Tell me the truth: was it you? George? Did you kill him?”

            He closed his eyes. When he opened them, he saw her worry. “I think I should go.”

            “No. Answer me.”

            “You have already made up your mind.”

            “I know you didn’t do it, but I need to hear it from you.”

            “Doubt is a terrible thing, Susie. It eats at the soul like rust.”

            “Answer me, George.” She would not let him go.

            He sighed. “I wish I had.”

            Susie dropped her arms. “Why? That’s not who you are.”

            “Because he hurt you.” He shouted despite the silence. He turned his back to her.

            Susie stared at him as if for the first time. “You never said a word.”

            He laughed.

            She put her hand on his shoulder. “George, why didn’t you say? When you went away I thought it was because you hated me.”

            “No, no. It was because I hated myself. I didn’t stop him.”

            “You couldn’t have.”

            “The thought of him... It killed me.”

            “I survived.”

            “But I wasn’t there for you.” His shoulders shuddered.

            “George.” She stepped round him and took his hand. “I never stopped loving you.”

            He embraced her. Their eyes communicated what was in their hearts.

            “Kiss me, George.”

           

Fanny put Cara down for her nap when Hugh burst in.

            “I just saw Fincher. Sebastian is dead.”

            She raised her finger to her lips and gestured at the cradle. “Dead?”

            “Yes. Stabbed. He was found last night.”

            “My goodness.” She pulled the chair away from the kitchen table and sat. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was relieved.”

            Hugh nodded.

            “What’s bothering you?”

            “We haven’t seen George since last night.”

            “You don’t think he’s...”

            “I don’t know.” He chewed his thumbnail. “When Susie was attacked it nearly killed him, Fanny. We all know what sort of man Sebastian is. Was.”

            She stood and went to check on Cara. “I won’t believe it, Hugh. George is many things but he’s not...”

            “A killer?” George appeared at the door. “So you’ve heard.”

            “Where’ve you been?” Hugh tried to seem indifferent.

            “With Susie. All night. You can ask her.”

            “Are you all right?” Fanny rocked the cradle as she spoke.

            “Yes.”

            “And Susie?”

            “She’s fine. In shock.”

            Hugh stood. “Look, George, about before...”

            “Don’t explain. I did think about killing him. Many times. But it wasn’t me. I want to be with Susie and I can’t do that if I’m hanged.”

            “Right you are, George.” Hugh cleared his throat. He reflected on the home he had with Fanny and Cara. He was one of the lucky ones. “I’m going to check on the lambs. George?”

            “No. I need to speak to Jacob.”

            Hugh nodded.

            “See you later, love,” said Fanny as he stepped into the sunshine. She felt her heart surge with sadness for George. “There’s clean water in the pitcher if you want to wash.”

            “Thank you.” He turned his hat over in his hands. “Fanny.” It sounded like a croak. “She said she loves me.”

            Fanny smiled. “Of course she does.”

Something was wrong. Sebastian rubbed his eyes but it did not help him focus. He felt strange, as though he’d drunk too much. He stumbled into Sasha’s room.

            Sasha, I feel strange.

            She didn’t respond, so he tried again.

            Sasha? Wake up. I think I had too much to drink. He laughed at himself.

            She sighed in her sleep but did not wake. It was as though she didn’t hear him. He heard boots coming upstairs and she moaned. A woman strode into her room and glared at her.

            “Sasha, I am sorry to bother you again, but I cannot seem to find where you keep the soap. If it isn’t too much trouble, could you lead me to it?” Her voice dripped across the room.

            Sasha sat up. “Of course, Mrs Mortimer. Could you pass me my gown? It’s on the back of the door.”

            Sasha, stop ignoring me. You may still be angry with me for what I said about Jacob, but this is taking it too far. Answer me!

            Amelia handed her the gown. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

            “This could take a while, Mrs Mortimer. Shall I meet you downstairs?”

            “Be quick.”

            Sasha shrugged into the gown and flinched as the room started spinning. “Easy does it.”

            Sasha, let me help you. I’m sorry for what I said. I take it back.

            She lifted her braid out of where it was trapped down her back and walked through Sebastian on her way downstairs.

            He gasped and patted himself. He still felt solid. How was she able to pass through? Why was she ignoring him? He looked down and realised he was standing in the middle of her bed. He screamed.

Sasha bent and opened the cupboard under the sink. She retrieved a soap dish and handed it to Amelia. It had been where she said it was, but she chose not to argue.

            “Thank you.”

            The sound of hooves alerted them. The hospital buggy had arrived.

            “Took their sweet time. Probably stopped for a tea break under the trees. That body will be stinking to high heaven by now.”

            Sasha felt the bile rise in her throat. She stood, faster than she should have, and went to sit in the armchair at the hearth willing the world to stop spinning.

            Amelia opened the door and turned on her charm. “Much obliged to you, gentlemen, for taking the time to collect our corpse.” She tittered into her hand.

            “Yes. And it’s Missus?

            “Mrs Mortimer.”

            “Miss Sasha, actually.” She couldn’t wait for Amelia to leave.

            “Right. Stewart at your service. Where’s he laying, then?” He was heavy, as though burdened by the souls he’d carted across the countryside.

            “Would you like to take him upstairs, dear, or shall I?”

            “I don’t think I could manage the trip. I still feel dizzy.”

            Amelia’s smile was triumphant. “Follow me, Stewart.”

            Stewart signalled to the man outside to bring in the stretcher and then lumbered after Amelia.

            The man was reticent on entering. “Hullo. I am Ben. Don’t mind me.”

            “Hullo Ben.” Sasha smiled and he blushed.

            He lumbered up the stairs with the stretcher and found Amelia announcing that they were to be careful not to bump against the walls or knock over the lamp.

            “Sheriff Fincher said you need the sheets? I hope that means you will launder them too. It’s not easy getting those kinds of stains out of linen.”

            Stewart rolled his eyes at her back. “Yes, ma’am.” He motioned to Ben and they began wrapping Sebastian in the bedclothes.

            That’s me lying there. And there’s so much blood. Sebastian darted to Amelia’s side. Tell me you see me, woman! I’m not dead!

            Amelia fanned the air where Sebastian stood. “Oh, dear. The flies are already here. Do hurry, gentlemen. I should rather like to avoid an infestation.”

            Sebastian ran at Ben. You must see me! This is a mistake. I’m not dead!

            “On the count of three.” Stewart prepared to lift Sebastian’s body onto the stretcher. Ben nodded. “One, two...” He huffed on three and shifted him across.

            “I’ll see you downstairs. Take care not to brush against the walls.”

            “Yes, ma’am.” Stewart rolled his eyes again. “Heads or tails, Ben?”

            “Tails.”

            “Right. You get to lead us down.”

            Ben sighed. “Don’t mind me.”

            “Ah, don’t start.”

Sasha had managed to get herself upright after the earlier dizziness. Her head ached in time with her heart. She needed to see him one last time.

            “Easy does it, chaps.” Amelia commandeered from her spot near the door.

            The stretcher was tilted and Sasha saw a red stain forming where his torso was. They reached the bottom when she said, “May I look? To say goodbye?”

            Stewart nodded at Ben and they stopped. “Suit yourself. You’ll have to open him.”

            Sasha trembled as the fabric parted. His eyes were closed and his flesh looked grey. Tears landed and left dark spots on the sheet. Her voice was a whisper. “Goodbye, my friend.”

            Ben coughed.

            “What?”

            “Me arms hurt.”

            “Don’t start.”

            Amelia approached and covered his face. “Save some tears for the funeral, dear.”

Sebastian was livid. He hadn’t heard of a single person who’d have to watch other people pretend they were dead. At any moment he was sure someone would jump out from behind some furniture and declare that it was all a joke. The body looked realistic, but even that was taking things too far.

            Sasha, stop this. You know I am not dead. I know you can hear me. Sasha!

He stood in the shadow of the trees and watched the house. It had taken him a long time to wash the blood off his hands. So far it seemed that he wasn’t a suspect. He’d feel much better once that body was in the ground where it belonged. The world was rid of another predator and he saw no wrong in that. He heard branches crack. Jacob had cleaned up since last night. And to think he had almost thwarted the perfect crime. He chuckled to himself and stopped when Jacob paused to listen. He held his breath and waited. Jacob continued, whistling as he walked. That had been too close. He retreated into the woods, taking care not to leave tracks.