the chase took them across waste ground, the smog had settled low and heavy; it was difficult to see a hand in front of your face, but Dougie was slowing down, stumbling and tripping, giving Tom the advantage he needed. Behind him, equally determined, the inspector kept sight of Tom.
Ahead of them, the officer cut across, trying to hem them in, but several times they veered away and he lost them again.
Tom had only one thing in mind. He had to look Dougie in the eye. He had to know the truth. Why did he do it? WHY? WHY?
In his frantic mind he could see Sheila’s face, the way she had glanced back and recognised him. What was going through her head? Why didn’t she call out his name?
As he ran, he could hardly see for the tears that ran down his face: tears of rage; tears of sorrow. As they trickled down his face, the cold night air dried them on his skin. He felt like a man broken – a man, yet not a man.
The thick burning smog clogged his throat, yet he could feel none of it. All he could see was Sheila’s shocked face as she had glanced out of the back window. Then they were over the cliff and she was no more.
For a minute Dougie disappeared. Frustrated, Tom paused and looked about. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Dougie. Suddenly he seemed to dip and fall, vanishing from Tom’s view, before Tom, too, fell over the edge, slipping and sliding, until now the two of them were on the railway track.
As the dry, smouldering smog closed in about him, he could taste it on his tongue, feel the burning in his eyes. His vision was impaired. Negotiating the slim, hard tracks beneath his feet, he kept up, with Dougie slowing and stumbling just ahead.
What happened next was so sudden it took the breath out of Tom.
They didn’t hear Inspector Lawson’s warning as he called out, ‘FOR GOD’S SAKE, GET OUT OF THE WAY!’ Nor did they see the train until it was on top of them.
Frantic, Tom threw himself forward, at the same time screaming out a desperate warning to his brother. Dougie, though, was intent on escaping, his mind filled only with the horror of what he had done to his own brother. He thought of what Lilian had told him …‘I’m having your child.’ Oh, God!
Thundering forward, the train bore down on him. At the last minute he tried to leap out of the way, but it was too late. His foot caught in the track and he was mown down. Unaware, the engine-driver shovelled more coal onto the fire. He had a timetable to stick to. The train sped on.
Clambering forward, the inspector had seen it all. ‘Oh, Jesus!’ Like Tom, he ran on, to find Dougie writhing in a river of his own blood, his leg severed at the thigh.
Distraught, Tom knelt beside him. For a minute he couldn’t speak. All he could do was hold his brother, and listen.
‘You had them … all … not fair.’ He gave a half smile, more sad than wicked. ‘I killed them … Sheila … mine.’ Dougie’s life ebbed away, and with it his confession. ‘She wanted … me.’ He gave a yell of pain that tore at Tom’s heart. ‘She … changed her … mind.’
The look he gave Tom was filled with hatred. ‘You always … had everything! I wanted her … so much. She did … love … me.’ Lying back in Tom’s arms, he closed his eyes. ‘Six years … together. Not … your … son.’ He looked into Tom’s stricken eyes, and felt a measure of regret. ‘Forgive me.’
His head lolled backwards, that fragile, gossamer-like sigh telling Tom that Dougie was no more.
Mortified, the sobs racking his body, Tom drew him close to his chest, then, tenderly, he raised his fingers and closed his brother’s eyes. But he couldn’t shake off the devastating impact of Dougie’s confession. He couldn’t let him go. Not yet.
Not until the hatred had subsided.
Gently, the inspector prised him away. ‘It’s over, Tom,’ he whispered. ‘It’s over.’
‘GOOD GOD, MAN!’ Inspector Lawson could see how the events of the past twenty-four hours had taken their toll on Tom. ‘You look terrible!’
Tom nodded wearily. ‘I’m sure I do,’ he acknowledged. ‘I can’t seem to sleep. I still haven’t come to terms with what Dougie did.’
‘Sit yourself down. I’ll get you some tea.’ Waiting until Tom was seated, he added kindly, ‘It’s no use you punishing yourself over what happened. You’re not the Lord Almighty. You couldn’t have foreseen, or prevented the outcome.’
Tom knew that. He also knew that, however long he lived, he would never forget Dougie’s confession. Every word was engraved on his mind.
‘Have you had any breakfast?’ The older man’s voice cut through his thoughts.
‘No.’
‘I’ve got a couple of bacon sarnies. You’re welcome to one of ’em.’
Tom thanked him. ‘I wouldn’t say no.’
He heard the inspector go out, and he heard him come back, and it seemed to Tom as though only a minute had passed, so deep in thought was he.
‘Here!’ Handing Tom a paper bag containing the bacon sarnie, he explained, ‘The wife always gives me more than I need.’
Tom gave a half smile. ‘You’re a liar.’
The older man chuckled. ‘Maybe, but you look as if you need it more than I do. So get it down you. We’ll talk while we munch.’
He pointed to the mug of tea he’d placed in front of Tom. ‘That’s good strong stuff,’ he said, adding thoughtfully, ‘I reckon you’ll need it.’
Tom was already anxious. ‘You’ve got Dougie’s things, then?’
‘Yup. Got ’em yesterday. There’s not much in all … papers and business schedules, that sort of thing. More to do with work than anything else.’ He paused. ‘Eat up!’
Tom had seen how agitated he was, and he needed to know. ‘You’ve found something else, haven’t you?’
The inspector nodded. ‘Did you know your brother kept a diary?’
Tom shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to think I didn’t know anything about him at all. More’s the pity.’
Whatever it was the inspector had found in Dougie’s home, Tom knew it must be incriminating or he wouldn’t have called him in. ‘This diary. Does it throw any light on what happened?’
‘It tells us all we need to know.’
Tom was curious. ‘Can I see it?’
‘Not yet. It’s still being tested in the lab. But I can tell you the guts of it.’
Tom waited, but he was not prepared for what the older man was about to reveal. ‘Your brother was jealous of everything you did … everything you had. Your wife, your kids, even the job you taught him.’ He paused, before going on in softer tones, ‘He envied you, Tom … resented the very ground you walked on.’
He momentarily glanced away, then, raising his gaze, he looked Tom straight in the eye. ‘Look, Tom, I don’t take any pleasure in telling you these things. But, at some point or another, the contents of that diary will be made known. It’s better you know now exactly what was in it.’
Coolly returning his gaze, Tom kept control of his emotions. ‘I understand that, and I appreciate you giving me forewarning. I can’t pretend I’m not deeply