“Help me,” he said, and after some hesitation, I laid down my rake and made my way into the cold water, going in with my shoes and socks on, as James had done. I didn’t realize before how much time you spend standing in cold water after you’ve killed someone. As on the night of the accident, James took Lennie’s shoulders and I took his ankles, gingerly holding his trousers and being careful not to touch flesh. We moved him along under the bridge, his head tippingback and under the surface. I had to keep reminding myself it didn’t matter; we didn’t need to be careful of his head.
Before we emerged from the bridge, we checked that there was still no one to see us, then we pushed the body out into the deeper water. James climbed up the riverbank on that side and I went back for the spade and rake, then walked through the gate and across the road to join him.
We continued on our way, this time I had the spade, the job of pushing him away seemed like an easier one than raking him in. Soon we would be well away from Langley Hall, then the body could float free and come to rest wherever it rested, its origin forever a mystery. But first, we had to get it past the farmhouse.
There was no sign that anyone was in there, but we were still some distance away, so we couldn’t see the downstairs rooms or if there was a car in the drive.
A minute later, we didn’t need to.
“Evening.” Mr. Newman was making his way from the far end of the field toward us. Normally, the sight of us taking an evening stroll through the countryside would attract nothing more than a wave and maybe a “don’t see you out here very often.” But the attempt to evict Mr. Newman and his family from the farm had left bad feelings; Mr. N’s demeanor was hostile, and he was marching our way with purpose. “Anything I can help you with?” he called as he neared us, in a tone that sounded more like “Get off my land.”
He stopped and looked at us, looking down at our wet jeans and trainers and up at the gardening tools in our hands. Then he saw Lennie. His jaw dropped. He drew nearer to get a better look: It was a sight you had to see to believe.
“Is that… Is that the chap they’re all looking for?”
It was a fair question. With the state Lennie was in, even his biggest fan—Mrs. Billings—would have to look twice to be sure it was him.
“Where did he come from?” Mr. Newman asked, and simultaneously, we all turned and looked upstream, back toward Langley Hall. Mr. Newman looked again at the rake and the spade, but I never knew if he completely understood what we’d been doing with them because at that moment, James made a bad decision. He pushed Mr. N into the river.
He fell into the murky depths, the movement of the water sending Lennie bobbing to the opposite bank. James and I watched as Mr. Newman sank, then rose again, standing in water that only came up to his waist.
“What did you do that for?” he shouted at James, and Mr. N and I waited, both curious to hear the answer. James said nothing. So, Mr. Newman stepped up to the bank and tried to climb out, but the riverbank was steep and slippery there. He was going to have to make his way farther downriver. Or upriver, if he preferred to wade past Lennie and back in the direction of Langley Hall. Unsurprisingly, he went in the direction of his home.
Then James launched himself. He leaped off the bank and onto Mr. Newman. They both fell backward and under. A moment later, they emerged fighting.
Although he wasn’t young, James was a younger man than Mr. N and he had kept himself in shape—the mind games I played with altering his clothes notwithstanding—but Mr. N was bigger and I knew from local gossip that he could handle himself in a fight. It was anyone’s guess who would win. It would be decided by stamina, luck, and, maybe, a woman on the riverbank, holding a spade.
I didn’t know what would happen if I weighed in on the side of Mr. Newman. The story up to that moment was already a difficult one to explain away, but Mr. N disliked James and this escapade wouldn’t be doing anything to change his mind on that front. My mum and the first Mrs. Newman had always got on well. Perhaps a helping hand from me here would be enough for him to believe me if I said I knew nothing about how Lennie had got into that state and that James had made me float him down the river.
If I weighed in on the side of James, I would probably be in line with the “for better, for worse” part of my wedding vows, but James would still be a thorn in my side, and anyway I’d been looking for a chance like this…
I raised the spade and waited for them to come close enough to the bank. I waited, waited, waited, and as James’s head came near, I brought the spade down as hard as I could and hit…Mr. Newman.
“Aargh!” I shouted in frustration as Mr. N wobbled. I hadn’t hit him hard enough to kill him, or even knock him out, but it unbalanced him long enough for James to push his head under and hold it there, with me screaming, “Stop! You’ll kill him!” even though I was sure that was the point.
But Mr. Newman wasn’t done for; he rose again. James grabbed the spade from me and battered him until he ceased to protest and fell back into the water, where James held him down again.
I watched the spot as the body sank, hoping for Mr. N to rise up one more time, with renewed strength and fury, and put an end to James, even though that would be disastrous for me now. But Mr. N didn’t rise up, and after a while it was clear he wasn’t going to. Instead, bubbles rose and burst.
“You took long enough, he nearly had the better of me,” James said.
“What have you done!” I shouted. “What have you done?”
“What else could I have done, Daisy? We couldn’t just let him walk away.”
“But you’ve killed him.”
“And you killed Lennie Green. Looks like one begets another. I just wonder: Who’s next?” And he gave me a look I didn’t much like.
“There was no need. We could have told him something.”
“What like?”
“I don’t know. We were taking Lennie to the police station?”
James looked at me but didn’t speak.
“You’ve killed a man!” I squeaked at him as he reached for the rake and calmly began shepherding Lennie’s body past the spot where he’d drowned Mr. N—sunk for now but sure to rise up again soon enough.
