The Murder on Elderflower Mead (DI Morgan Yeoman Book 3) by Emmy Ellis

The Murder on Elderflower Mead (DI Morgan Yeoman Book 3) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-31T22:00:00+00:00


Chapter Thirty-Four

1990

A week had passed since Sheila pushed Vernon into that bog. A week of shitting herself at every turn, paranoid someone had seen her and would roll up to her door, knocking so loudly she’d know they’d arrived to let her know they’d watched what she’d done. A week of terrifying nightmares, where she woke in a sweat. They consisted of Vernon coming back, standing on the step, filthy and smelly, his face brown from dirt, the whites of his eyes and teeth stark as he smiled at her.

“I’m home,” he always said in a bland voice.

And Sheila always slammed the door on him and rushed to the back one to make sure it was locked. He was there, too, smiling, and at every window as she ran to close them.

She was shattered from lying awake for hours afterwards, going through everything she’d done that night, picking out where she’d failed, hoping it didn’t come back to bite her. If she got caught, Mum would have to look after the kids while Sheila was in prison, and that wasn’t fair. Mum neared retirement and didn’t need the stress of kids.

Should Sheila have just told the police after she’d bashed his head in? Putting him in the ground meant she’d concealed a crime. If she confessed now, her sentence would be harsher.

She blinked those thoughts out of her mind and switched them to her children. They were her priority now, and staying with them was her only goal. She’d lie until the cows came home.

Brian wasn’t fazed at not seeing his father until this morning. After all, Brian didn’t get up until half seven on weekdays, and Vernon had usually gone to work by then. When she thought about it, Vernon hadn’t seen his kids at all except Saturdays and Sundays for so long it was like he’d worked away during the week. Sometimes, he even left them on his days off to go to the pub, although now she knew that was a lie fifty percent of the time. The other fifty he was doing all sorts with Ella.

Ray, though, he must sense something was wrong. He was a perceptive kid, especially where tension was concerned. Today was Saturday, and she planned to go up and tell him her version of events. Minus the murder. With no Vernon home today, Ray had queried it this morning, as had Brian. He’d wanted to know why his dad wasn’t around to mess about with. At the time, she’d got flustered, hadn’t worked out what to say to the boys, but now she’d had a few hours to think about it, she knew which words she’d use, although she’d try not to encourage hate to fester inside them for Vernon. That could sour a growing child’s mind.

Brian had gone next door to play with his little friend, something to stop him dwelling on Vernon’s absence, so Sheila was free to talk to Ray without interruption. She climbed the stairs, her heart thudding, and wondered whether this would change Ray, turn him moody.



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