Chapter 11

The last weekend in August has (in Britain) a public holiday on the Monday, which means it’s very popular for weekend events. S.B. Asphodel was due to arrive at Ipswich wet dock Friday, with Jenni and Marty on board, to embark a party for a long weekend cruise returning Monday afternoon. We were unable to keep this from Loraine, and all of us were to meet them, hopefully in time for them to have lunch with us before returning to welcome the punters. Amazingly, everything went to plan and we were only a little late for lunch. Asphodel docked and we watched Jenni and Marty, and Brian the skipper efficiently mooring and tidying up. (Part of this is a process whereby the foresail is bundled into a tight sausage and hauled up the stay. I have never learned to do this well with the heavy canvas used by the barges, but Jenni managed a really neat job)

Jessica and I watched with slight (fond) smiles. I could not help but notice what I could only describe as a suppressed sneer on Loraine’s face. Of course Jenni and Marty were dressed appropriately for barge work; in other words, clothes which cover and protect, but which don’t matter if they get tar or paint, or oil, or mud on them. Personally I avoid denim as it’s so difficult to dry and so cold when it gets wet, but both Jenni and Martin were in scruffy jeans and smocks over t-shirts and pullovers. The both looked well, fit, tanned and healthy. Marty shook hands all round, and was introduced to Loraine as friend of Jenni’s from College. Jenni gave Jessica and me a brief hug and, not too reluctantly, embraced her mother too. We had to walk a little way to find an eatery that wouldn’t have a problem with their dress; the dockside ones are all a bit up-market now. Actually, very upmarket; in fact, to be pejorative, pretentious. How things have changed! Jenni and Martin ate with a good appetite. Sailing does that to you. Jessica and I were more restrained; Loraine picked at a salad.

I’m really sorry to be so negative about Jenni’s mum. Of course, I write with the benefit of hindsight and you will see why. Even so, I don’t think I am being too unfair to her...

We delivered Jenni and Martin back to Asphodel mid afternoon and stayed on board until the first punters (sorry, passengers) arrived, when we left them to it.

It’s almost axiomatic that British public holidays have foul weather, but every so often we have a warm, dry Bank Holiday weekend. Not often, mind you, but on this occasion, it was lovely.

As it happened, that was the weekend Richard was married, so that accounted for Saturday; we left Loraine at the Ferry, and were very glad we’d made the effort to go. Richard proudly introduced his bride, Gillian, and Fiona hugged me hard. Felicity smiled to see Jessica’s bump, and said she was happy I had come, and that I was ‘healed’ (her word)

On Sunday we drove into Ipswich in the morning to go to the morning service at St. Andrew’s. Loraine came with us and seemed fairly comfortable with the service. The Vicar was pleased to see us and greeted Loraine pleasantly, after the service. He asked me if he could have a quiet word with me and when I agreed, took me to the vestry.

“Is Loraine Jenni’s mother?” He asked.

“Why, yes, she is. Why do you ask?”

“From time to time,” he said, “I believe God tells me things. There might be all sorts of explanations, but that’s the one that makes sense to me. If you like, I get a feeling about someone, but sometimes it’s stronger and more specific than just a feeling. I have a very bad feeling about Loraine. I hesitate to use the word ‘evil’, but that’s the sort of feeling I get. I don’t like to make judgements about people; I’m not condemning her, but she’s the sort of person I would not want to trust with anything important.”

“Jessica and I are uncomfortable with her, and you’re not the only person to comment about her. We just don’t see how we can change the situation now.”

“I believe her husband is loose in the world?” (I nodded) “I would hate for anything to happen to Jenni, Jessica, or yourself. I just wonder if, perhaps she is bound to her husband in a way that might lead her to co-operate with him in some way that might get at one or more of you?”

“That’s a nice thought, Vicar,” I muttered reluctantly, “but thank you for your concern. I’ll talk to Jessica and try to work out a way of keeping us all safe.”

“I will pray for you all; including Henry Turner and Loraine. Perhaps there is something going on there that God is the best person to deal with.”

“Thank you, Vicar. I really appreciate that.”

After a light lunch in town, we spent a couple of hours in Christchurch Park before going home.

Monday, we were to collect Marty and Jenni who were, reluctantly, leaving Asphodel in order to be fit for Jenni to register at College on Wednesday. We left Loraine ... we thought we left Loraine at the Ferry after lunch and drove into Ipswich. I was having trouble parking and didn’t want Jessica to have too far to walk, so let them out quite close to the dockside. When I did find a space, I hurried to Asphodel’s berth. I was some distance away, when I saw two figures on the deck of the barge. There was a bit of a flurry of movement, and suddenly there was only one figure on the deck ... and a loud splash, followed moments later by the sharp crack of a gunshot. I broke into a run; that leaden feeling was back in my gut, only slightly relieved by realising that the remaining figure on the deck was Jenni, rapidly disappearing below deck.

I followed and found the following tableau; Jessica leaning against the kitchenette worktop, holding a handgun rather uncertainly; Jenni just inside the saloon, holding another handgun with rather more determination. Marty sitting on the back of a prone figure, holding the figure’s arm twisted brutally up his back.

“Hullo, Dad,” said Jenni, calmly, without taking her eyes off Henry Turner being restrained on the floor. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to dial 999 and ask for the Police. I think we’ve caught someone they want.”

So I did. But the next development ... well, I wish I could say it was a surprise. Loraine Turner, immaculately turned out and completely out of place in Asphodel’s saloon.

“Henry?” she squeaked.

Jenni turned towards her and raised the weapon in a two-handed grip aiming at her mother’s chest. “Well, mother, here’s a thing! I suggest strongly that you move slowly over there and sit in that chair”; she managed to nod in that direction without taking her eyes off her mother. “I wonder what you’re doing here? Hm? Well, no doubt our worthy Police will have some questions for you too, in due course.” The gun did not waver a millimetre. Now I don’t think Jenni had any prior experience of firearms. If so, she was a very good actress. I would have been convinced, and Loraine certainly was. She had an expression that combined terror and horror.