Read Online White Lilies by RC Bridgestock - Free Book Online Page A

ground. Picking herself up as fast and graciously as she could, she discarded her footwear and continued in  bare feet.
    ‘Pack it in! Have you no respect?’ she yelled at the top of her voice.
    The man lying flat on his back had blood covering his face and running profusely from his nose, along his cheek and down the side of his neck by the time she reached Donald Harvey’s side. To her astonishment, it was Brian Stevenson who attempted to raise his head from the ground and wipe his face with the back of his hand. In between coughing he spat blood to the ground. Taylor knelt at his side.
    ‘Are you okay?’ she said.
    Donald Harvey panted heavily. ‘It’s you who should be six foot in the under, you robbing bastard,’ he said, spitting to the ground.
    ‘Last warning Mr Harvey, otherwise I’ll arrest you for assault,’ Taylor warned.
    ‘You’re a dead man, Stevenson. You’re a fucking dead man,’ Donald Harvey called over his shoulder as he turned and walked away. Taylor offered her hand to help Mr Stevenson to his feet.
    ‘I’m fine, fine… I didn’t mean to cause trouble I just wanted to show my respects,’ he said. ‘I’ve known Grace a long time. I thought a lot about her even if her inheriting son doesn’t think so,’ he said, as he attempted to tidy himself up. He took a clean, neatly pressed handkerchief from his trouser pocket and sneezed before he could open it. Blood sprayed across the front of Taylor’s white shirt and she jumped back with a squeal. She looked down at her new Jacques Vert jacket with horror.
    ‘Sorry,’ he said, sheepishly wiping his face.
    ‘Do you want to make a complaint?’ she asked with more composure than she felt. ‘If you do, I’ll go and arrest him.’
    ‘No, I appreciate his emotions will be running high, which has to be understood,’ he said. ‘And, let’s face it, he’s got to blame somebody, so it might as well be me. I’ll live,’ he said gallantly.
    Taylor attempted to blot the blood off her jacket with a tissue, only to find her fingers covered. ‘The lack of closure is frustrating for some,’ she said, impressed with his compassion.
    ‘Please, let me pay for the cleaning.’ Brian Stevenson said, reaching out to try wipe her jacket. Taylor jumped back.
    ‘We’ll see,’ she snapped. ‘If you’re alright, I’ll go after me laddo and let him know just how lucky he is that he isn’t heading back to the police station with me in a pair of handcuffs.’
     
    Taylor walked precariously around the gravestones on the grass to Grace Harvey’s burial spot where Donald Harvey stood morosely looking in. She picked up her shoes along the way, only to find one of the heels hanging precariously by a thread. As she passed a bin she tossed them in, glancing back to the old oak tree; as she did so she saw that Brian Stevenson had disappeared. Donald Harvey looked across at her as she approached him. When she didn’t speak he turned and walked away. She followed.
    ‘Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?’ she demanded, her face like thunder.
    Donald’s pace quickened down the hill towards the car park but he remained silent. She ran barefoot to keep up to his long, purposeful strides.
    ‘You’re very fortunate, you know, that Mr Stevenson doesn’t want to press charges,’ she said, hobbling behind him down the hill path. ‘Shit,’ she said under her breath as she trod on a sharp stone. Donald Harvey turned and saw her trying to balance on one leg as she as she rubbed her bleeding foot.
    ‘Why’re you shouting at me? It should be him you’re reading the riot act to,’ he said stepping forward and offering his hand to help her gain her balance. She took it gratefully and stared directly at his suited chest before looking up into his distraught face.
    ‘This isn’t over,’ he said quietly. ‘He’s just lucky you were about, this time.’
    Taylor looked into his deep-set, brown, hooded eyes and held his gaze for a