Chapter 2
TWO
Harry was standing in front of a crowd of friends, everyone dressed to the nines, even Dave, who was wearing an expensive, if somewhat ill-fitting, Harris tweed suit.
He looked to Harry like he’d sewn himself into it in sections, because there was no other way he could think of that the man had managed to squeeze into it.
The rest of the team were there, all sitting together.
Jadyn and Jen looked like they’d just stepped out of some fashion boutique in Soho.
Ethan’s suit was so perfectly pressed, Harry couldn’t work out how he’d managed to get all the way here without getting it even a little creased.
Matt was with his family, Joan looking radiant, and their daughter as close to being a Disney princess as it was possible to be, without infringing copyright.
Gordy was with them, and Jameson, too, even Alice Firbank, who had sat herself down at the end of the line.
Behind the team, all of the Dales had gathered, or that was how it seemed.
There were plenty of faces Harry knew well, some he just about recognised, and a fair smattering of others he’d never seen in his life.
They all knew who he was, though, that was for sure, not just because of who he was, but who he was marrying: Grace.
As Dales people went, Grace, and her father, Arthur, were particularly well known.
Farmers all over called on their services to deal with vermin, and as well as managing the pens on some large shoots on the moors, they helped out with a few smaller ones, too.
They were respected, well liked, and Harry had been especially aware of people keeping an eye on him from the moment they’d started dating.
It had been a little unnerving to begin with, like being under surveillance, but he’d eventually got used to it.
He wondered if the reason so many were there was because they still weren’t fully decided that he was right for their Grace.
He was though, he knew that. She was everything to him, and giving his life to her felt like the most natural thing in the world.
Harry heard music, as an organ blasted out the wedding march, and he realised then that he was standing at the front of a church.
That wasn’t right, was it? he thought. Hadn’t they decided that they’d not be doing a church service?
And where were Liz and Ben? This was a double-wedding, so surely his brother should’ve been standing beside him.
But he wasn’t. Ben was nowhere to be seen.
The music was getting louder now, so much so that Harry started to wince.
And the notes ... something wasn’t quite right.
He could make out the wedding march, or whatever that piece of music was called, but it sounded off, discordant.
It was like someone was trying very hard to play a piece of music that they really didn’t know, while at the same time, someone else was just dropping heavy objects on random keys, or trying to smash the instrument apart as it was played.
Harry glanced over his shoulder. Where before, he’d seen a sea of faces bathed in a rainbow of sunlight streaming through stained glass windows, he found himself at the front of an empty church.
No, it wasn’t empty, was it? There were people there, but they were just shadows, memories of who they had been, and he couldn’t grasp them.
As soon as he tried to, they faded even further, no more than ghosts. What the hell was going on?
A shout, then a scream.
Harry was staring at a figure standing at the back of the church.
‘Hello, Harry ...’
The voice was icy smarm, and Harry felt his chest tighten.
‘You ...’
‘You didn’t really think I’d want to miss this, surely?’
Harry narrowed his eyes at his cousin, wishing his stare was enough to burn the grin off the bastard’s face.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Adding to the fun,’ his cousin said. ‘I mean, Grace needs someone to walk her down the aisle, doesn’t she?’
‘Arthur’s doing that,’ said Harry, a little confused. ‘You’re not needed.’
A smile, thin and full of menace.
‘Yes, about that ... Not sure Arthur’s going to be much use to anyone now, really.’
Something was at Harry’s feet. Mist swirled around it, then faded to reveal an old man, eyes wide open in shock, his chest soaked in blood.
Rage burned in Harry’s veins as he stepped over the body of Arthur, to walk towards his cousin. His cousin’s hand raised then, and clamped in it, the metallic menace of a pistol.
‘Best you stay right there,’ his cousin said. ‘Now, what were we talking about? Oh yes, Grace ...’
The scream came again, and Grace was in front of Harry’s cousin. He had a tight grip on her arm, and the pistol was aimed at her head.
‘You really should’ve asked for my approval before going ahead with this, you know?’
Harry was staring at Grace, his cousin’s words of no importance. He had to save her, get her away from here ...
‘You didn’t though, did you? And, to compound things, no invite! The first error I could forgive, but that?’ A shake of the head. ‘Rude, Harry; very, very rude.’
Harry was halfway down the aisle. Not close enough yet to deal with the pistol, but if he could edge closer, there was a chance.
‘Whatever this is about, Grace has nothing to do with it,’ Harry said. ‘Let her go.’
Laughter.
‘Really? You think it’s that easy, is that it? That you can just go along with your life and pretend nothing has happened?’
‘Nothing has happened,’ Harry replied. ‘Whatever problem there was between you and your father, before you killed him, it had nothing to do with me.’
The pistol was back on Harry.
‘Oh, we are way beyond that now,’ his cousin said. ‘This isn’t about that anymore, it’s about you and me, Harry, can’t you see that? Don’t you understand?’
Harry was a step closer.
‘What I understand is that I want nothing to do with you, with what you’re about, with any of it, not even what your father wanted me to do with his money. None of it is my problem. And my advice is, don’t make it become one.’
More laughter.
‘Big words from a big man! I like it, Harry, I really do. I like you too, actually. There’s something about you, you see? Something I think will really play in my favour. I just need to convince you, I think. You don’t mind that, do you, Harry?’
‘Let Grace go.’
The pistol waved left and right.
‘I don’t think so, Harry. Not yet. She’s my bargaining chip, you see? I would’ve used Ben, maybe even his partner, too, but he resisted. Had to deal with that, didn’t I? So, now it’s just you and me and Grace. Shall we make a deal?’
Harry was trying to absorb what the man had just said about Ben and Liz, couldn’t get his head around it. Something wasn’t right, yet everything was so real!
Another step.
‘That’s far enough, Harry.’
The click of the pistol hammer being pulled back.
‘So, here’s the thing ... You’re doing to do what I say, do you understand? You’re going to be my little helper in the police, someone I can count on to keep me informed, to make sure eyes are turned the other way, to warn me, that kind of thing. And in return? I let Grace live.’
Harry turned his eyes away from his cousin and focused on Grace. He saw terror in her eyes, but also the hot flame of anger. It was enough to let him know she wasn’t going to stand there and just take what was happening. No. She was going to do something about it.
Harry shook his head.
Please, Grace, don’t ...
Grace’s foot came down hard on his cousin’s toes. The man roared in pain, only to have the cry snapped in two by Grace’s elbow connecting with his face. His nose exploded, blood casting a rose of gore over his cheeks, into his eyes.
Then Grace was running, and Harry was running, too, because he could see the pistol being raised again, levelling at her back as she sprinted towards him, saw a finger squeeze on the trigger, heard the gunshot, watched Grace drop like a puppet with its strings cut.
‘Grace!’
Harry was sitting up in bed, his yell still echoing in his head.
‘Harry?’
Grace’s voice swirled in the darkness, a thin thread of reality in the dream he was still waking from. He felt a hand rest on his, and squeeze.
‘You were dreaming. You called out my name.’
Harry opened his eyes, saw faint moonlight cut a white blade across the bed, across their hands; a thin, silvery thread tying them together.
‘Nightmare,’ he said. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘You didn’t. I’d nipped to the loo. I was awake anyway. Then you shouted. What was it about?’
Harry wasn’t entirely sure. A church. Grace. His cousin. Ben and Liz. Arthur. Confusion. Violence. Blood.
‘Just old memories,’ he lied, but gently so, squeezing Grace’s hand in return. ‘They still come back.’
‘I know.’
A kiss, soft as a butterfly, brushed against his cheek.
Harry stared at his own hand wrapped in Grace’s, saw the black silicone bands they’d placed on each other’s fingers the day before.
‘I’m fine,’ he said.
Even in the darkness, he could feel Grace smiling.
‘Of course you are,’ she said. ‘You’re with me!’
Harry laughed, leaned back, and Grace rested herself on his shoulder.
They slept then, and whatever had brought on the nightmare that had woken him, was gone.