Letting out the Worms: Guilty or not? If not then the alternative is terrifying (Kitty Thomas Book 1 by Sue Nicholls (top e book reader TXT) 📗

Poulton and Humphreys grabbed high visibility jackets from the back seat and ran into the road and halted amid the devastation, taking in the scene.

On the far carriageway, the coach driver’s bloody face rested on his steering wheel. In the back, white-faced passengers screamed in pain or stared in horror at the destruction below.

On the near side, behind the battered Range Rover, a small blue hatch-back lay upside down. Its roof flattened to such an extent it was impossible to imagine survivors inside. Behind the hatchback, a string of vehicles at various angles had concertinaed into each other. One pair of cars formed an upside-down V that pointed at the sky.

As Poulton stood in the road, he scanned the wreckage, forming a rescue strategy for when reinforcements arrived. Beside him, Humphreys was calling in the incident, requesting emergency vehicles and assistance from all available officers in the area and beyond. Soon sirens wailed in the distance and blue lights blinked their way between the queuing vehicles to reach the mangled mess.

The process of rescue and recovery began: The road was blocked off and traffic redirected. Photographs were taken and chalk marks drawn to show the positions of cars and people. Officers took statements, and firemen cut through metal. A helicopter airlifted the female driver of the little hatchback who, by some miracle, had survived. Meanwhile, ambulances collected the dead and more of the injured.

At dawn, Poulton booked into a local Travelodge. In the morgue lay five bodies. One of them was Mick’s.

75 THE MEN

They first met in a pub. Paul had suggested it. He was such a prick in those days. Loud and angry, and Christ, he was bitter. Maurice almost didn’t go. It was bad enough that his wife had deserted him, left him to fend for himself in his dreary house with his demanding, energetic kids, and no clue how to care for either. And his mother nagging at him every time he got something wrong. ‘Maurice, you’ve fallen asleep when the children need you; Maurice this house is like a pigsty; Maurice, when are you going to think of your poor parents? Maurice, do this, do that.’ The last thing he needed was two whining ex-husbands. But in the end, he went. Twitch had the kids that night, and there was nothing on the telly, plus, the pub Paul had mooted was close to Maurice’s last appointment: a young family with too many children for their house, who had hired him to design an extension.

It turned out OK, the evening. Turned into quite a session and they all ended up in a curry house somewhere in town.

That was the beginning.

Maurice had everything to gain from their friendship. Mick taught him basic cookery, and Paul helped him with DIY. He became more confident with the children, even quite enjoyed them.

But oh, how their wives thrived. Fee driving her fancy car, wearing designer clothes, cool with Paul, polite to Maurice and Mick, Staring down her nose at them all. And Millie, excited and happy about her new venture - her bloody restaurant. No surprise there. It was Sod’s law that she was so successful. While Mick struggled to construct a relationship with his kids and build his career, Millie landed on her two small feet. As for Twitch, his Twitch, wafting about in fancy outfits, caring for the house in Crispin Road, decorating it, cooking wholesome food for the children, drinking Chablis. Maurice doubted she would scrape dog shit off Josh’s shoe if there was a chance he was going to visit Maurice.

In time, though, the three men adjusted to their new roles. Mick was the most successful. He ended up as some senior bod in a hotel chain. Paul? Well, he kept his job despite behaving badly for a while. He did not move up the ladder, but neither did he fall off it. Maurice also kept afloat. That was about the best you could say: he stayed afloat.

Thank God his parents moved to the coast. Before they left, his mum had jabbed her finger at his chest. ‘Don’t let things go, Maurice. You’ve got a responsibility to those children.’ Yeah, yeah.

But for each man, there came a tipping point - something that drove him beyond his equilibrium.

For Mick, that moment came when he thought he had killed his son.

The three of them, Mick, with Sam and little Josh, were having an ‘adventure’ in the local woods. Mick stopped to tie his shoelace, and the boys charged ahead and began climbing the exposed roots of a huge fallen tree. Josh fell between the roots and gashed his leg, just missing his Femoral Artery. It was then that Mick grew very, very angry.

REVENGE

MICK OCTOBER 1994

Mick stood in the deep shadow of an alleyway that ran between a fireplace shop and a bank. Opposite was Millie’s restaurant, Feast. As he watched, Mick turned a key over and over, round and round, rubbing his palm sore with its new-cut edge.

He had stolen the key a few mornings ago - crept into the restaurant while Millie and Liz cooked and gossiped in the kitchen. It had been a simple job to lift a bunch from Liz’s handbag and get spares cut at a place near the supermarket. When he slipped them back, the two women had hardly stopped for breath.

On the cold pavement, his feet began to ache, and he stared across the road into the restaurant’s cosy interior. His ex-wife was chattering with staff while they all cleared and re-laid tables. Mick wiggled his toes in his boots and put his hands in and out of his pockets while he waited. Gradually, the serving staff collected their belongings and emerged onto the chilly High Street. They called their goodbyes with steamy breath and hunched their shoulders, heading in different directions, one