The Reckoning Read Online Free PDF

not hysterical. And we wanted her to trust us.
    ‘Just the two.’
    ‘One of each, though. Which is easier, boys or girls?’
    ‘I couldn’t say. They both have their moments.’
    ‘I bet they do. I bet they do.’ Derwent gave her a grin, too wide to be sincere, but she seemed reassured by it.
    ‘Mrs Gordon, I know it’s difficult, but can you tell us about Barry? All we know is that he was convicted of abusing two young girls.’ Derwent said.
    ‘That was all rubbish.’ She sat up a little straighter, twin patches of red high on her cheekbones. ‘The girls were liars. They were just looking for attention.’
    ‘What sort of a person was Barry? He wasn’t married, was he? Did he ever have a girlfriend?’
    ‘No. But that didn’t mean anything. He was just shy, that’s all. He kept himself to himself. He was – well, I suppose you’d call him a bit strange, but he wasn’t dangerous or anything. Growing up, he wasn’t interested in girls, and none of them would give him the time of day anyway. He lived in his own world, a lot of the time. He loved the cinema – he’d have gone every day if he could. He spent most of his time watching videos on his own.’
    ‘Did he ever work?’
    ‘No, except for a Saturday job in the local shop when he was a teenager. He found it hard to get on with people. Didn’t like taking orders much. I don’t know what he might have done with his life if he’d had the right kind of encouragement, but as it was, our dad just made him feel totally worthless. He didn’t have the confidence to try anything new. He just survived, really, living at home – living off Mum. Graham, my husband, thought he could have done something to keep himself busy. Stacked shelves or worked in a petrol station – something that wouldn’t be difficult. He thought a job would give him some self-respect, some independence too. He couldn’t understand how Barry could be happy doing nothing. But it was easier for him to stay at home. Less risky. Barry was afraid of failing so he got out of the habit of trying to do anything. And then … those girls …’
    She broke off, sobbing again, as Derwent flicked a look in my direction. Do something . Apparently he’d found a use for me at last.
    I moved from my chair to the edge of the sofa, putting my hand on her arm. ‘Mrs Gordon, I know this is difficult. If there was any way we could leave this conversation until some time had passed, we would, but time is the one thing we haven’t got. We want to find the men who did this to your brother, and I know you do too.’
    She nodded, wiping her cheeks roughly. ‘I do. I want to help, really, but I can’t help thinking about what happened to him.’ She looked up, red-rimmed eyes fixed on mine. ‘You’ll tell me the truth. What happened to him? I know they beat him, but what else did they do?’
    My throat closed up in horror at the thought of what had happened to him, at the thought of telling someone who had known him and loved him how he had suffered before he died. The look on my face must have told her enough, because she dissolved again.
    I sat back into my chair, afraid to look in Derwent’s direction. After a couple of minutes, Vera sniffed and tossed her hair back.
    ‘Maybe it’s better that I don’t know the details.’ Neither of us said anything, and she nodded. ‘I can see you think that. I won’t ask again. But I do want you to know what my brother was really like.’
    We sat and listened as she told us about their childhood, about small triumphs and minor setbacks, about the two of them supporting one another against an unsympathetic father, about a devoted mother who had never wavered in her loyalty to her son, no matter what.
    ‘My dad – I wouldn’t have said he cared at all about either of us. But I was wrong. The day Barry was convicted, Dad collapsed. He died about three weeks later – as if we didn’t have enough to worry about.’ She sounded bitter. Two sets of feet