Arthur Stanley Bernard Osbourne was born in 1926. His initials spelled an unfortunate acronym for this century but was blissfully innocent in the 1920's.
From the moment he could crawl, he revealed a mischievous nature and by the time he could walk, he was downright naughty.
"What's Arthur done now?" was the most common phrase in the Osbourne home. Every breakage, loud noise, spillage or mishap was attributed to the hapless four year old.
Alice, Sarah and Beatrice, who's combined initials spelled the same acronym, were twelve, ten and eight respectively. They were enchanted by their little brother. They giggled at his antics and would try and cover up his trail of destruction. Their parents were unaware of at least half the activities the four siblings would get up to trying to hide evidence. When her offspring were caught out, the reprimands and punishments from Mrs Osbourne were so ineffective that within half an hour there would be another incident.
However, there was one member of the household who didn't find Arthur so endearing. It was Thomas, Dr.Charles Osbourne's twenty year old son from his first marriage. Thomas' mother had died when he was five. Now, fifteen years later, his distaste for his Father's young family had turned into hatred, particularly towards Arthur.
Thomas had also despised his tyrannical mother and was very happy when she'd been found dead at the foot of the stairs. Partial to taking several tipples of sherry throughout the day, her death was attributed to being tipsy and losing her balance at the top of the stairs.
For two years after her sudden demise, it was just him and his father. He had revelled in the attention he received. He was sent away to school when he was seven but that was fine by him. It happened to most boys of his age and social standing.
Within a year and during the summer holidays, he discovered his father had married again.
Lilian, a young widow, who Thomas considered cheap and common looking, had become his step-mother. He couldn't wait to return to school to escape her high pitched voice and excitable demeanour. What on earth could his staid and sensible father find appealing in the silly feather-headed little woman.
When Thomas turned twenty-one he assumed his comfortable lifestyle would continue being paid for. He was horrified when his father informed him that with four growing children, he needed to buy a bigger house and could no longer afford to finance him.
Resentment towards his ghastly half-witted, half family, grew stronger over the following months and he planned to dispose of them, one by one. He was so angry at his father for casting him aside that he decided to start with him. He would use the same method he had used to kill his mother. That had been easy, he had simply pushed the inebriated witch down the stairs but this time he had to be more devious.
When Dr Osbourne was found dead at the bottom of the stairs a week later, Thomas blamed little Arthur. The clumsy boy, he said, had spilled his bedtime cocoa at the top of the stairs which had resulted in their father sliding and falling to his death.
Thomas' rightful inheritance was assured. He still had the other inhabitants of the house to deal with but that would be easy. They were all so stupid.
Earlier on that fateful night, Alice had secretly watched her horrid half-brother pour some cocoa on to the landing. She retrieved Arthur's beaker that Thomas had placed on the puddle to set the scene, then proceeded to put her plan in to action.
Lilian sat in the gallery of the courtroom with her four children, while her step-son was sentenced. The judge ordered that he be hanged for patricide. The evidence against him was overwhelming; contaminated dregs in a mixing jug was found in his wardrobe. Arthur's beaker was hidden in one of his drawers and stale cocoa was discovered on his slippers. Thomas' face revealed utter bewilderment and when he looked at Lilian, he saw no glimpse of emotion.
‘How stupid and half-witted did he think his half family were now,’ she wondered, chuckling to herself.
After witnessing Thomas' dastardly deed on that fateful evening, Alice had set tasks for her sisters. Sarah was to fetch the morphine from their father's unsecured medical bag. Beatrice had to pour away some of their father's brandy, leaving enough for a generous glassful. Finally, she, being the eldest, would mix the two substances together and replace the decanter on the sideboard. She would also be responsible for concealing certain items in Thomas' bedroom that would seal the scheming plan.
Lilian's thoughts, while she watched her step-son's pathetic protest, had turned to the memories of growing up poor. Her first marriage, at eighteen, had been to escape the poverty surrounding her. From the honeymoon night, she had planned the demise of her violent husband and his drunken, over-bearing mother who owned the little house they lived in.
Number thirteen Woodside terrace was a sound little house and Lilian wanted it.
She became a patient of Dr Charles Osbourne, with her 'nerves'. He was so was easy to persuade that sleeping pills would ease her distressful nightmares. They were caused by the violence in her life she told him, caused by her wicked husband. The Doctor was sorry for the slightly built woman and felt protective toward her. Her down cast eyes and sweet smile revealed her frail, vulnerable and innocent nature.
How fortunate for her that men were so stupid. After the battered bodies of her husband and his Mother were found, the police were convinced by Lilian that the intoxicated bully had returned home and had mistaken his mother for his wife. A smashed bottle of whisky was correctly identified as the old woman's murder weapon but not the correct culprit, due to their misled and manipulated investigations.
Lilian had spiked the old woman's gin with some crushed sleeping pills and led her to the fireside chair in the parlour. She had then removed her own shawl and placed it on the dying woman's shoulders. The remaining crushed pills had been added to a bottle of beer.
Her predictable bad-tempered husband had announced his return from work as usual, by kicking open the back door and demanding his supper. He then, as always, washed it down with several mugs of beer.
After his meal, he stood up and staggered, more than usual, into the parlour. Before he had registered surprise that his mother was sitting in his chair, he fell sideways and was dead before he hit the floor. Lilian dragged him a few inches to the hearth, lifted his head by his hair and with a sickening crack, left no doubt to those who witnessed the scene, the cause of death. She’d then turned him over, poured some whisky around his mouth and on his shirt, then calmly bashed the now dead woman's head in with the bottle.
Thomas looked up at the gallery and saw the thin smile that his step-mother gave him. She gathered up her children, the thin smile grew to a broad grin and she gave them each a triumphant wink.
Her hand was in her coat pocket and she wrapped her fingers around the keys to the large comfortable house that was now hers. A generous insurance payout would ensure that she could maintain its upkeep and the lifestyle she was now accustomed to. The rent she received on thirteen Woodside Terrace had been accumulating secretly for years, so she was very well off indeed.
The night he died, she had followed Charles Osbourne up the stairs after his nightcap and when he reached the top, she tugged hard on his jacket and stepped aside as he fell. She had been planning her second husband's death for weeks. Greedy Thomas however, in his desire for revenge and the cowardly plan to blame dear little Arthur, had created the perfect plot for her and her daughters.
The removal of the two stupid Osbourne men and a new plan she was already cultivating in her 'silly feather-head,' would secure a very rosy future for her and the Asbo kids.
