Justice Above All
From the age of nine, Lizzie was brought up by her grandmother, Edith Wilson. Her parents had died on their way back from the market in their old Ford Fiesta, selling meat and milk. It was late autumn, damp and rainy.
Lizzie knew she’d never see her parents again after the funeral. Grandma Edith had lived alone since her husband, George, passed away. So it was just the two of them, grandmother and granddaughter. Lizzie had finished school and was seeing a local lad, Mikey.
Mikey was handsome and cheeky, the sort of lad who made everyone laugh. Plenty of girls fancied him—one of those «bad boys» you couldn’t help but like. His temper was fiery, and he often quarrelled with Lizzie over little things, though they always made up quickly. Mike was always the first to apologise. Despite their rows, they both knew they’d be together for the long haul.
«Lizzie, what do you see in that rascal?» Grandma Edith grumbled as Lizzie preened in the mirror before a date with Mikey. «He’s no good for you. How can you settle down with someone like that? He’s just like your grandfather—rest his soul. Drove me mad, he did. No wonder the good Lord took him early.»
«Nan, he’s all right,» Lizzie protested. «At least he’s honest.»
«Honest or not, he’s not the one. Look at Paul—he’s been trailing after you for ages, proper polite, but you won’t give him the time of day.»
Grandma Edith never warmed to Mikey. He’d snap at her when she wouldn’t tell him where Lizzie had gone, cursing up a storm.
Paul had fancied Lizzie since school—steady, well-mannered, the kind of lad girls often overlooked in their youth, too busy chasing lads like Mikey.
«Lizzie, you need a man like Paul for the long run,» Grandma Edith insisted. «But no, you’re dazzled by that hotheaded fool. Mark my words—you’ll see sense one day.»
Lizzie and Mikey had another row. He’d gone to town and stayed the night, leaving her waiting. She spiralled, imagining him eyeing up some city girl. But Mikey loved her—he wasn’t the sort to stray, just a bit too sociable for his own good.
«Right, then—I’ll stay at Becky’s tonight and won’t tell him. Let him stew,» Lizzie decided. The next morning, she told her nan, «I’m staying at Becky’s tonight.»
«Fine by me,» Grandma Edith said, relieved it wasn’t with Mikey. «Just don’t let that lad come sniffing round, asking where you’ve gone.»
At dawn, the village was shaken by terrible news—someone had tried to kill Grandma Edith. Lizzie bolted from Becky’s when her mother rushed in with the news. She arrived home just as the ambulance pulled up. Their neighbour, Mary, had found Edith on the floor, a puddle of milk spilled beside her. She’d raised the alarm, and the police were already there.
Lizzie barely remembered the questions, only the cold certainty that someone had struck her nan. Edith was rushed to hospital, and a heavy silence settled over the village. Nothing like this had happened in years.
Detective Inspector James Watson, an old friend of Lizzie’s late father, pressed her for answers. «Think, Lizzie. Did your nan have enemies?»
«I don’t know,» she whispered.
At the hospital, they were told Edith was stable but still unconscious. The inspector hoped she’d wake soon—maybe she’d seen her attacker.
Lizzie and the inspector returned to the village. He dropped her near the police station, where Paul was waiting on a bench.
«Lizzie, you all right?» He draped his coat over her shoulders.
«I’m fine,» she said flatly.
«Walk with me. I need to talk to you.»
Exhausted, Lizzie agreed. She felt so alone—her nan in hospital, Mikey still in town after their row. For once, Paul’s presence was a comfort.
«Take me home,» she said. «It’s late.»
«All right. But listen… I hate to say it, but I think Mikey did this. I’m telling the inspector tomorrow. He was seen at your place that night. He and your nan never got on, did they?»
Lizzie shook her head. «No, he’d never hurt her.» But doubt crept in.
At home, his words gnawed at her. Had she misjudged Mikey? She thought of how kindly her nan spoke of Paul, always feeding him scones.
The next day, Mikey caught her after work, grease-streaked from fixing cars.
«Lizzie, come on—still mad about me staying in town? I was at Dave’s, swear down. No girls, just us. And then you go and stay at Becky’s to wind me up…»
She barely listened, glaring coldly.
«I heard about your nan. I’m sorry—»
«Sorry?» she snapped. «You hit her, and now you’re sorry?»
«What? No! I was there, yeah—we argued, same as always. But I’d never lay a hand on her!»
Lizzie didn’t believe him. As she walked away, Paul watched from the shadow of the garage.
That evening, the village buzzed again—Mikey had been arrested. Prints on the door, they said.
Lizzie walked with Paul, who prattled on. «Your nan’s so kind. Always gave me tea, even when you weren’t there…»
Lizzie managed a weak smile.
«She liked you,» she admitted.
«Then marry me,» Paul blurted. «She’d want that.»
«Ask me when she’s home,» Lizzie said tiredly.
Alone that night, she grieved. «Nan was right. Mike’s no good.»
The next morning, the hospital rang. «Your nan’s awake.»
Lizzie sprinted to the inspector, who was already in his car. «Hurry! The doctor said—something’s happened.»
They burst into the hospital room to find nurses wrestling Paul, his hands bound with bandages.
«Caught him strangling her!» one panted.
Lizzie froze, meeting Paul’s icy stare.
«Nan!» She sobbed into Edith’s arms.
Days later, Edith was home, and Mikey was released. He rushed to Lizzie. This time, her nan didn’t object.
When questioned, Paul sneered, «Wanted Mikey gone. He’d be locked up, and she’d marry me.»
«And you’d live with that guilt?»
«Better than him winning.»
Lizzie married Mikey. The village knew they belonged together. Winter neared, but her heart was light—she’d wed her love at last.
The lesson? Truth has a way of surfacing. Deceit crumbles, but love endures.
