Page 55 of Vengeance is Mine

I was behind the wheel of my car impatiently trying to get it to start. Fourth attempt, fifth attempt, sixth – there was no life in the engine at all.

‘Fucking car,’ I screamed. I hit the steering wheel hard, breaking a nail in the process.

‘I heard that.’

I jumped, turned, and saw my mum standing on the pavement beside me.

‘Jesus! Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ I opened the door and climbed out.

‘Car trouble?’

‘You could say that. I think it’s finally died.’

‘Well, it has been through two world wars.’ She smiled.

‘And one of them was the Crimean.’ I chuckled. I looked ahead and saw the florist van Mum had come over in. ‘Listen, you couldn’t give me a lift somewhere, could you?’

‘Sure. You’re early going to work, aren’t you?’ Mum asked, looking at her watch.

‘Ah. I’m not actually in work this week. I’ve taken some time off.’

‘What for?’

‘It’s a long story.’ I opened the back door of the Golf and took out the shoe box containing the diaries and my handbag. ‘Mum, don’t roll your eyes or have a go at me or anything, but I need you to drive me to Langdale Crescent. I wouldn’t ask, but it’s really important.’

‘Who do you know at Langdale Crescent?’

‘Anthony Griffiths.’

‘Oh, Dawn, no, please don’t tell me you’re getting mixed up in all of this?’ she said, a look of genuine concern on her face. ‘You’re going to end up ruining your career at this rate.’

‘I’m not. I’ve been given compassionate leave. Will you give me a lift, or am I going to have to get myself further into debt by getting an Uber?’

‘You know, blackmail is a serious crime, Dawn Shepherd,’ she chastised.

I gave her a wide smile, hoping it would win her over.

‘Go on then. I’ve got a delivery in Winlaton anyway. What’s in the box?’ she asked as we set off towards the van.

‘Gwyneth Paltrow’s head.’

We pulled up outside Anthony’s home. I took off my seatbelt, but Mum remained still with the engine ticking over.

‘Are you coming in?’

She thought for a moment. ‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s you who wants to see him, not me.’

‘He’s my grandfather. Don’t you want to say hello, see how he is?’

She looked down. ‘Dawn, if you want to build some kind of a relationship with him then that’s fine – I’ve no issue with that. But please don’t get me involved. Between Dominic and his mother, I’ve had enough of the Griffiths family to last me a lifetime.’

‘He’s an old man. He’s on his own. He’s lonely. Jesus, no wonder the elderly feel unappreciated in this country. The British are great at holding grudges. It’s a shame it isn’t an Olympic sport.’

‘All right,’ she said, holding a hand up to silence me. ‘I’ll come in. But don’t expect some kind of big family reunion with lots of tears and hugging.’

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