His Silence - Chapter 66

I step out of the house, my body trembling. I know Jeremiah assured me the other day he wasn’t the man who I’d seen at the pub, but I’m sure it was him. He could’ve been tailing me for days. Abraham’s kneeling underneath my bedroom window as I march back towards the annexe. I consider running back into the house, but it’s too late, he’s seen me.

‘Grace, have you got a moment?’ he says, getting up from his crouched position. His jeans are caked in mud.

He’s staring at me, spade in hand.

‘What d’you want?’ I ask, not caring about the sharpness in my voice.

He takes a step forward. ‘I just want to have a quick word with you.’ There’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

‘Can it not wait?’ I ask.

He shakes his head. ‘Not really.’

I stare at him. What the hell does he want to talk about that can’t wait until later?

‘Sorry, Abraham, but I really need to do something; I’ll catch you later at dinner, yeah? We can talk then.’

I don’t wait for him to reply. I open the annexe door and step inside, looking left to right, from my room to Oliver’s. The door to the annexe opens again behind me; I freeze, cool air prickles the back of my neck.

‘Grace, I promise you I won’t take up more than five minutes of your time.’

I spin around. He’s left the spade he was carrying outside. Perhaps it would just be best to get this over and done with. ‘OK, five minutes, what d’you want to talk to me about?’

‘You’ve really got to learn to start trusting people, Grace. Can we speak inside your room?’ he asks, edging forward.

Tell him to piss off, my mind screams at me. I open my bedroom door. Why is he doing this?

Before I have the chance to react he grabs hold of me and shoves me against the wall. I wince as pain floods through me. He holds his arm tight against my neck. Shit. Shit. Shit.

‘What . . . what?’ My voice comes out croaky. I can’t get in any breath. 

‘You betrayed us, Grace,’ he says, venom in his voice as he speaks. ‘You brought the police here.’

He wants to kill me, oh God he wants to kill me. His eyes are wild.

‘No, please,’ I croak.

Dizziness begins to sweep over me. No, this can’t be it. This can’t be my life over.

I’m aware of movement to my right, there’s a flash and Abraham’s wrenched away from me. I collapse to the ground, coughing and spluttering, holding my chest. I raise a shaky handy to my throat. Oliver’s pulled Abraham off me. He’s pinned Abraham to the floor by sitting on his chest; he’s . . . swinging punch after punch.

‘You bastard. You bastard!’ Oliver yells at him.

‘Oliver.’ My voice doesn’t seem to reach him. It’s like he’s lost in some sort of trance. He continues to pummel Abraham, blood spurts from Abraham’s nose. Oliver’s going to end up killing him. I push myself forward, grappling for his shoulder. ‘Oliver please stop!’