Killing The Girl by Elizabeth Hill

Author:Elizabeth Hill
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2019-04-14T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 38

Sunday, 27 December 1970

I ran through the house and out of the front door. I’d killed my precious, darling man. He’d never hold me again, or tell me he loved me, or lie to me, or sleep with other women.

Crawling amongst the sleeping lavender and rose bushes, I curled into a ball as angels arrived, their brilliant wings surrounding me. They had come to take his soul away. Freezing damp seeped through me and the urge to sleep grew overpowering. As I drifted off, the noise of laughter boomed out. The angels had changed into demons. They danced and poked and swooped, enticing me to return with them to their evil lair in the depths of hell. They mutilated him. His body was stretched to impossible lengths as they squabbled over his beauty. Their smell made me vomit and I dry-retched over the flower border. My baby, eerily silent up to now, cried out as the demons consumed its father. Mercifully, our blood stopped flowing, and we drifted away from the madness into unconsciousness.

The noise of wheels sliding on gravel roused me. Perry shook me, shouting questions in the sharp tone he always used. He removed his coat and wrapped it around me, dragging me into the passenger seat of his car. The heater blasted hot air.

‘What did Schmidt do to you, Carol?’

‘Schmidt do to me?’

‘He’s just passed me, driving like a maniac along the lane. What did he do to you?’

‘He was here? Oh, God.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I’ve killed him.’ I sat up and pulled back to look Perry in the eye.

Perry screwed up his face. ‘But he was driving away …’

‘Not Schmidt! Frankie. I’ve killed Frankie. He’s dead. In the back garden.’

‘Don’t be silly …’ Perry scrutinised my face and got out of the car. He’d not stomach this, no matter how much he hated Frankie. He’d not come near me now, be tainted with my evil. I should drive away, drive off a cliff – but my bones were rubber. I lay down contemplating my fate and considering ways to kill myself.

Perry returned with the twelve-bore and put it in the boot. He sat in the driver's seat muttering, ‘What have you done.’ His hands were soaked in blood. Blood streaked his coat. ‘You’ll go to prison.’

‘I’d rather die.’ He grabbed me as I tried to open the door.

‘You’re pregnant. Don’t be stupid.’ He was too strong, and he hurt me as he pulled me back against the seat, agitation and anger in his eyes and his grip. He shouted, ‘You don’t understand, the farm, the trust … everything …’ Angry tears were hot on his face, and spit landed on me. ‘What about your baby’s inheritance?’

‘I don’t know … let me go … leave me alone.’

‘Thwaite doesn’t like you so he persuaded Thora to add something; I remember reading something ...’

‘What’s it to do with you?’

‘Our farm is what it’s to do with me! I was eighteen last Sunday. Dad told me about stuff … The land.

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