Tom
I CATCH HER. I SEIZE her. That girl has done enough talking. She won’t be sharing any more secrets with Betty Nevan.
It takes all I have not to crack her head off the stone wall and leave all the madness to drain out of her. I squeeze her as tightly as I can, and I don’t care if it kills her.
It isn’t the first time I’ve had a thought like this. I had it all planned out. How we would do it, where we would put her. The alibi and all that. I’d know how to talk to the guards. It all worked out in my head, except for the guilt. It was the only thing I couldn’t explain away. So I left it.
I fear that intending to kill her is every bit as foul as carrying out the act. For a moment, I had every intention of her ending up dead. You might say there was a world of difference between them, but really, having felt what I did, I’m not sure.
—
At home, the drizzle starts again. Let it pour rain now, I don’t care anymore.
Jack comes out of the cottage with Peggy.
His hands on her shoulders. Her bag packed.
And she rubs the pony’s nose. She looks so like Anna.
Have I just seen this for the first time?
I’ll say it to her when I see her tomorrow morning, down on the farm.
‘All okay?’
Jack asks, hardly stopping.
‘Grand now. Everything is grand.’
I pat the soil down with the shovel. I pat her on the head. Tomorrow, please God, I will plant a tree here. Something that will grow eighty feet tall, with flowers and fruit.