Free Goodnight Lady by Martina Cole Page A

brains for what else she should tell him.
    Abel kissed her on the forehead and tried to wink at her.
    ‘You know you’ll hang if this is found out?’
    He nodded. ‘I know that, Mum. But if you could see those two in there...’ His voice trailed off.
    ‘You’re a good boy, Abel. Too good sometimes, I think.’
    On this he left the kitchen and, taking the blanket off the horse, covered the body with it and clip-clopped down Oxlow Lane in a light flurry of snow.
    Briony turned up at nine on Christmas morning, laden with food and presents. As soon as she walked into her mother’s house she knew that something had happened. The three younger girls ran to her and she kissed them, pushing gaily wrapped presents into their hands. The smell of roasting duck was heavy on the air, but her mother’s wan, swollen face and the absence of Eileen told her that something was afoot.
    ‘Where’s Eileen?’
    ‘She’s lying down, Briony. Come upstairs and see her.’
    Briony followed her mother up to the bedroom without even removing her coat. Once inside the tiny room, she gasped. Eileen was lying in bed staring at the ceiling.
    ‘What’s wrong with her, Mum? And where’s me dad?’
    Molly bit on her swollen top lip.
    ‘Eileen ... she hit him last night. He was drunk and trying to ... Eileen saw him and something snapped inside her, girl. She hit him with the flat iron.’
    Briony stared into her mother’s face.
    ‘Where is he then? In the hospital?’
    Molly shook her head.
    ‘He was dead, Briony. Stone dead. And Abel ... Abel...’ She swallowed back tears. ‘He dumped him in the Thames. In the docks. She’d have been taken away otherwise.’
    Molly’s voice was rising and Briony put her arms around her. ‘All right, Mum. All right. You did the right thing. What’s the next step?’
    ‘I’m going to report him missing like, this afternoon. I’m going to pretend that he stayed out often all night and that if he’s been picked up drunk then they can keep him. Abel ... well, Abel says that’s the best way. More natural like.’
    Briony nodded, seeing the sense of what was being said. The police in this area were used to women like her mother who brought up families on the money they could slip from a drunken husband’s pockets. But if they came to Oxlow Lane then they’d wonder where the hell the money came from for the house. Briony felt no loss at the death of her father, he had been like a thorn in all their sides. All she had ever known was either the back of his hand or his drunken caresses. She was more interested in looking after Eileen and her mother.
    ‘If they question you about this place, then you tell them about me. I’ll deal with them when and if I have to, all right?’
    Molly nodded. Briony went over to the bed and stared down at her sister’s face. It was white and pinched. Her eyes, normally so blue and clear, looked dull. Eileen stared back at Briony and her lips trembled.
    Kerry and Bernadette burst into the room, both waving pairs of shiny new leather shoes.
    ‘Oh, Bri, they’re lovely, thanks, thanks!’
    Briony turned and hugged them, while Molly hastily wiped her eyes.
    ‘Keep your noise down now, Eileen’s not feeling well.’
    Kerry jerked her head towards Eileen and frowned. ‘Will I sing you a nice song, our Eileen? To cheer you up.’
    Eileen nodded weakly, trying to smile.
    Kerry put her new shoes on the bottom of the bed and, pushing back her thick black hair, began to sing.

Chapter Five
    Isabel Dumas watched her husband closely as he cosseted his niece. He had pulled the little girl on to his lap and was caressing her blonde hair as he whispered endearments to her. Isabel felt a sickness inside herself as she watched him. She glanced at her husband’s sister and saw that she was smiling benignly at her brother and daughter. Isabel dragged her eyes from the scene and, excusing herself on the pretext of seeing how dinner was progressing, went up to her room.
    Standing in