‘I know exactly what you did to Agnes,’ said Lucy at length. Brionne nodded.
‘I know what you did to her child.’ He nodded again, his eyes widening.
‘And I know what you did at the trial.’
He moved towards a bottle and back, seeing it was empty.
‘Agnes will die within the month. I would like you to die first.’
‘How would you like me to oblige?’
‘I have a gun.
‘That was very thoughtful of you.’
Lucy opened her bag and took out Grandpa Arthur’s revolver. She cocked the hammer. ‘It’s already loaded.’
‘Do you propose to do it yourself?’
‘No.’ She stretched from her seat and handed it to Brionne. ‘I intend to sit here telling you every detail I know about Agnes, everything I know about my father, and everything about myself – and I will go on until you either shoot me or yourself.’
Brionne held the gun with a look of dark, drunken fascination. Gingerly he raised the barrel, his eyes glazed and black. He bit a cracked lip and a spurt of blood ran on to his chin.
‘I suggest you go now.’