Page 22 of Vengeance is Mine

‘Just a small slice. I’m trying to lose weight.’

‘Get away with you. You’re a good healthy size. I blame the television. My granddaughter, she’s younger than you, but she watches all those reality programmes. I can’t be doing with them. They’re full of these stick-thin girls flashing their bits. Men like a real woman, take my word for it. Have a decent slice.’

I didn’t need any convincing. I took the largest slice and bit off a huge chunk. It tasted as good as it looked.

‘Mrs Hurst?—’

‘Call me Sylvia.’ She smiled.

‘Sylvia,’ I began. I took a notepad and pen out of my bag to look the part of the legal investigator. ‘What can you tell me about the Griffiths family?’

‘Where do you want me to start? I could write a book. That Dominic, he was a rotter. From the minute he was born he caused his mother nothing but trouble. Screaming, shouting, wailing day and night he was.’

‘They lived next door?’

‘Aye, number forty-eight. He was no use, the father. He worked away a lot. You could always tell when he was home, because he’d park his bloody great big lorry outside the house. It used to block all the light from reaching my living room. I’d have to have the light on at three o’clock just so I could see my sewing.’

‘How was Dominic a rotter?’

‘He terrorised this street single-handed: tipping up dustbins, setting fire to them, pulling up plants, scratching cars, making the neighbour’s kids cry, swearing. I don’t know how she coped.’

‘His mother?’

‘Aye, Carole. Bless her. She was a bag of nerves before he even came along. I told my Arthur she wouldn’t make a good mother. I was right. She couldn’t control him. She was too soft with him. He needed a good hiding, not that you can do that anymore.’ She took a sip of her tea and leaned forwards. ‘I mean, I had three kids. They weren’t angels, and I’m not going to pretend they were. I didn’t pummel them, but when they did anything wrong, they got a slap on their legs. They soon learned. That’s the problem with kids today – no punishment, no respect.’

I smiled through gritted teeth. My mother had never once slapped me. There had never been cause, and I’d turned out fine… apart from my addiction to Ben and Jerry’s.

‘How were Dominic’s parents after the murder?’ I asked, changing the subject.

‘We rarely saw Carole,’ Sylvia said, her face dropping. ‘She locked herself in that house and hardly ever came out. Some of the neighbours took against them. A few of the kids threw stones at their doors, posted nasty stuff through their letterbox. A few months after the verdict, a big truck pulled up one morning, and they were off. Didn’t tell a soul.’

‘They just upped and left?’

‘Aye. There wasn’t even a “for sale” sign up. It was all done privately with the estate agents. I bumped into Carole in town a couple of months later. She’d aged years since I’d last seen her. It was like the life had been drained out of her. She said Anthony had wanted them to have a fresh start, draw a line under everything and start again.’

‘Did she tell you where they moved to?’ I asked, pen poised.

‘Oh yes. We kept in touch, exchanged Christmas cards, that kind of thing. They moved across the river to a bungalow, Langdale Crescent in Winlaton.’

‘I know the area.’ It wasn’t too far from my mum’s shop. ‘Are you still in contact with the Griffithses?’

‘No. I was only really friendly with Carole. I didn’t know Anthony that well. He was always a difficult person to talk to. I think he just wanted them to be left alone.’

‘So, what happened? Did the two of you just drift apart?’

‘Oh… you mean you don’t know?’

‘Know what?’

‘Carole died in 2001.’

‘Really? She couldn’t have been very old.’

‘Fifty-one.’

‘How did she die?’

Sylvia leaned forwards once again. ‘Killed herself. Police found her hanging from a tree in Axwell Park.’

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