Page 23 of Vengeance is Mine

‘Bloody hell. Sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be. A shocking way to go. She must have been in such torment, to kill herself like that. Would you like another slice of cake?’

Chapter Ten

I sat behind the wheel of the Golf and thought about what I’d learned from Sylvia Hurst. Dominic had been a problem child, but by the time he met Mum, he was a caring and considerate young man, maybe a touch insecure. Had his issues just been childhood devilment that he’d grown out of? It seemed like it. Then there was Carole Griffiths killing herself two years after her son was sent to prison. Was it because she couldn’t cope with having given birth to a murderer? Once again, I found myself with more questions than answers. I took a deep breath and started the engine. It was time for Anthony to meet the granddaughter he never knew he had.

I pulled up outside the row of small bungalows. It was early afternoon, and the brightness of the day was slowly fading. It was going to be another cold night. I rummaged in my cluttered bag for a mirror to check my appearance. My skin looked dry and my face sad, not surprising given what I’d recently discovered. What I’d learned about my father so far was a mass of contradictions. I already had a headache and didn’t know if I could face more dark revelations from Dominic’s father. But I’d already come this far.

I opened the car door, and it was almost ripped off by a gust of wind. I pulled my coat tightly around me and trotted down the pavement to the door. I rang the bell and waited. The house appeared to be in darkness, as did the ones either side. After a long wait, the door opened, and a small elderly man stood in the dark doorway.

It was difficult to estimate Anthony Griffiths’ age. He could be anything from his late sixties onwards. His shoulders were hunched, making him look smaller. What little hair he had left was dark grey and pointing in all directions. His face was a relief map of deep wrinkles, and his eyes were glassy; he gave off the aura of a defeated man.

‘Anthony Griffiths?’ I asked. I had to squat slightly to make eye contact with him.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m sorry to intrude on you like this, but… I’m sorry, I’m not sure how to say this.’ As soon as I had seen him, I knew I couldn’t lie to him. He already looked in pain – this man didn’t deserve any more.

‘Are you selling something?’

‘No, I’m not. I have some news for you. It’s about your son.’

His eyes widened. ‘I don’t want to know.’ He started to close the door.

I was losing him. I had a few seconds, maybe, before I would have to shout my news through the letterbox and reveal everything to everyone on Langdale Crescent. ‘Mr Griffiths, please, I’m… It’s… My name is Dawn Shepherd. I’m Dominic’s daughter.’

The wind dropped then blew a fresh gust over me, making me shiver.

‘What?’

‘I don’t know if you remember a young woman by the name of Rita Shepherd. She and Dominic went out together for about a year before… well, before he went to prison. They split up when my mum was moving away to go to university, but then she found out she was pregnant with me. I have a photograph here somewhere.’ I opened my bag and began rummaging inside for the picture Mum had given me earlier.

With shaking hands, Anthony took the picture and angled it so the light behind him could give him a clearer view. Judging by his reaction, he recognised his son straightaway.

‘The woman he has his arm around, that’s my mother.’

‘Really?’

‘I know. She’s pretty and thin, whereas I’m the opposite.’

Anthony looked up, back at the photo, then back at me. ‘I think you’re a very attractive woman,’ he said, with sincerity.

‘Thank you.’ I felt myself blush.

‘You have your mother’s eyes.’

‘Everyone says that.’

‘What do you want from me?’ He handed the photograph back.

‘I don’t want anything. I just want to talk.’

‘What about?’

‘About your son… my father. I’d like to get to know you, too. You’re my grandad, after all.’

Anthony’s eyes lit up, and a small smile appeared on his lips. ‘I’m your grandad,’ he said. He chuckled to himself. ‘You’d better come in.’

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