Текст книги "The Betrayal: A gripping novel of psychological suspense"

Автор книги: Laura Elliot

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 26

Nadine

Tomorrow morning I fly to London with Liam Brett to attend a jewellery trade fair. The idea of spending an overnight trip with Liam is off-putting but he’s made it clear that, outside of business hours, we’ll go our separate ways. I’ve arranged to meet Stuart in the evening to say goodbye before he leaves for Alaska. I’ll see Ali on Sunday before I fly home. I need time with my daughter. She tells me so little about her life, the auditions that end in dashed hopes, the struggle to keep believing in herself, the new drama group she’s joined.

I stop outside Brown Thomas. It’s late July and the colours on display in the department store windows are becoming more subdued. I need to buy something new for the London trip and have thirty minutes to spare before I’m due back at Lustrous. The magazine is being redesigned and updated. A graphic designer has not yet been appointed and interviews are being held this afternoon. Jessica has asked me to join her and Liam on the interview panel.

I take the escalator to the fashion floor. The dress I choose is moss-coloured and slim fitting. I’ve become aware of my body in a new way. The glance I used to cast at my reflection has become a lingering examination, critical and objective. I enjoy the sleek feel of my stomach, the easy glide of a zip over my waist. And I’m beginning to notice looks from men. Have I been blind to the signals in the past or am I exuding a primal spoor, pheromones, the subtle scent of freedom, availability, desire? Occasionally, I go to pubs with Gina from Admin. Three men have invited me to their beds. It’s a direct invitation. Time is precious these days so why waste it on irrelevant conversation? I refuse politely and wonder if it was that brutal with Jake? Memories gather a softer skin over the years… but, no, we made love yet we also talked. We confided slights and hurts, perceived or otherwise, to each other and breathed secrets with promises never to tell. But that’s also untrue. Some secrets lie quiescent until something, a song, a casual meeting, a face that looks familiar but belongs to someone else cause memories to rise in a clamour.

I see her as I emerge from the department store with my carrier bag. She moves, vanishes. My forehead feels clammy, the crowd too dense, pushing, shoving as I walk towards the top of Grafton Street. Did I imagine her? Or is she once again in my space, stealing my oxygen?

The afternoon passes quickly. We interview four graphic designers. None of their presentations excite me. Jessica and Liam feel the same way. I’m about to close my file when Liam says, ‘There’s someone else we should interview. She came late to me with her portfolio. Said she didn’t realise we were looking for a designer until the submission date had passed. She’s worth a look.’

He passes a CV to Jessica who scans it and hands it to me. Saliva fills my mouth when I see her name.

Jessica glances across at me when she hears my intake of breath. ‘Do you know her?’

I nod and press my hands flat on the table to keep them still.

‘Did you tell her to submit her portfolio to us?’

‘No. I haven’t seen her for years.’ I sound unruffled. How strange. I touch my wrist and scars, faint as silvery skeins, seem to ripple the surface of my skin.

Jessica’s eyes skim over the pages of Karin Moylan’s CV. ‘Liam’s right. She certainly has an interesting track record. Bring her in.’ She nods at Liam and leans back in her chair.

They rise to greet her. I force myself to stand with them and lean across the table to shake her hand. She still has the ability to render me once again in a gauche, shambling teenager but I’ve learned poise and pretence in the years since. My grip on her hand is firm. If she’s surprised to see me she hides it well. Her smile is as white as I remember.

‘It’s nice to meet you again, Nadine.’ She’s dressed city-smart, a charcoal-grey skirt and jacket, the waist emphasised by a wide blue belt.

‘I didn’t realise you were back in Ireland.’ I concentrate on sitting down rather than collapsing back into my chair as Jessica waves Karin to a seat.

‘I returned some months ago,’ she replies. ‘I wanted to be close to my mother. She’s not getting any younger.’

‘But she’s well, I hope.’

‘She is indeed, thank you.’

‘So, how do you two know each other?’ Jessica asks.

‘Oh, we go way back,’ I reply.

‘We certainly do.’ Karin addresses her directly. ‘Nadine was my best friend in secondary school. We haven’t seen each other for years. How long do you reckon that is, Nadine?’

‘Twenty-five… could be twenty-six years,’ I reply. ‘You haven’t changed at all, Karin. I’d have recognised you anywhere.’

‘Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment and return it to you. You’re looking wonderful.’

Are we really fooling the others with this civilized exchange? From their polite expressions as they glance at her application letter it would seem so.

I glimpsed her at the airport and she gave voice to a discontent I’d barely acknowledged. A discontent that could be ignored because I was afraid to squander my marriage with notions of freedom. Then her card fell from Jake’s wallet. I stared into the kingfisher’s chilling gaze and stopped pretending to be satisfied with the predictability of the life Jake and I had moulded from our rough beginnings.

I turn away, unable to look at her and stare at the wallpaper. An abstract swirl in lurid colours. The room feels as if it’s shifting on its own accord. The effect is nauseating and brings me back to the journey home from Monsheelagh in the back seat of my father’s car. Eoin drove too fast around the bends on the cliff road and my stomach churned as I lowered the window, seeking fresh air too late to prevent me from throwing up.

Karin had a new friend when we returned to St Agatha’s in September. Vonnie Draper was thrilled by the secrets she confided to her. A whispering campaign began soon afterwards and grew implacably. Each day brought new distortions, new lies, all making their way back to me by those who believed I should ‘know’ what was being said behind my back. I smelled, according to Vonnie: bad breath, body odour, sweaty feet. I had ‘lesbo’ tendencies and always tried to kiss Karin whenever I slept over in her house.

I cleaned my teeth until my gums bled, stood under scalding water in the shower and refused to walk to school with Jenny in case this gave rise to new rumours. I sat alone in the school canteen and lived in dread that Karin would tell Vonnie about the letters I’d written during our holiday. Love letters that she had stolen from me.

Jessica’s brisk voice snaps me to attention. ‘Liam was very interested in the ideas you submitted with your CV, Karin.’ She makes a steeple with her fingertips and taps them together. ‘Could you begin by telling us how your specific design skills could benefit Lustrous.’

Karin swivels her chair slightly to the side and opens her portfolio case.

‘I’ve developed my skills through years of experience from working abroad,’ she says. ‘I’ve worked mainly in New York but also in other major cities. However, my most important attribute is my creative talent, which, I believe will be of enormous benefit to Lustrous.’

‘Can you elaborate on those talents?’ Liam asks. He’s more animated than I’ve seen him all afternoon. Before the interviews began we worked out the specific questions we would ask each interviewee. I hesitate when my turn comes. Jessica inclines her head towards me as the pause lengthens.

I clear my throat and ask Karin to tell us what she knows about Lustrous and its readership. She answers without hesitation, trots out circulation figures, statistics, history. She quotes headlines from the first issue of Lustrous, mentions some spectacular photographic shoots that have featured in the magazine over the years. Jessica is warming to her. She and Liam lean forward expectantly when Karin removes mock-up drawings from her case and hands them around. She switches on her laptop and does a Powerpoint presentation. She’s worked on other magazines, a film company, some banks and corporations.

Her designs reflect the latest graphic trends from New York. She demonstrates how the fonts from Vanity Fair and Hello would look on Lustrous and suggests various alternatives. One of the fonts catches my attention when it flashes on the screen. It’s gone before I can figure out why it looks familiar.

Liam’s eyes glide over Karin as she speaks. I can almost hear the smack of his lips. No chance he’ll ever call her ‘Babe.’ She shows the magazine pages on the screen from different angles and is obviously used to presenting her ideas to a panel.

‘Nadine, would you like to give us your opinion on what we’ve just seen?’ Jessica waits expectantly for my reply. I scrabble around for something constructive to add to the discussion. I know that she and Liam have already made up their minds.

‘I like the overall design.’ I’m amazed at my self-control, the conviction I convey as I explain why the pages should be less crowded with content. More white space would make them easier on the eye for the average Lustrous reader, whose attention span could be compared to that of a gnat. I keep the latter opinion to myself. Jessica takes her role as her celebrities’ chronologist quite seriously.

‘I have to leave now.’ Liam stands and shakes Karin’s hand, speaks directly to her. ‘There’s someone waiting to see me in my office but I’m interested in discussing your ideas in more detail, especially in the context of Core, my other magazine. Call in on me before you leave and we’ll talk some more.’

Jessica’s mobile phone rings. She checks the screen. ‘Apologies, I need to take this.’ She moves towards the window and out of earshot.

Karin sits, legs crossed, poised. I hoped desperately that she would do a bad interview but she hasn’t put a foot wrong. The bows on her shoes, the buttons on her white blouse, the brooch on her jacket are the same blue as her belt. Each co-ordinating detail trails attention over her body.

‘I’ve often thought about you, Nadine, and wondered how your life worked out,’ she says.

‘As you can see, I’m getting on very well.’

‘Do you have family?’

‘Four children. And you?’

‘Unlike you, I’ve been unlucky in love.’ She tosses this comment towards me with a wry smile.

She lies. Beautiful people like Karin make their own luck. She must be remembering, as I am, how she turned me into fodder for the school grapevine. When nothing was said about my letters, no breathless comments from Vonnie making their way back to me, I comforted myself with the belief that Karin hadn’t shown them to her. Otherwise, even under threat of torture, Vonnie would have been unable to keep their content a secret.

‘Hopefully, you’re still happily married,’ she asks.

‘Jake and I are still together,’ I reply. ‘Some things never change. He told me you met on a flight to New York.’

Her eyelids flutter. She tilts her head. I remember that birdlike gesture, the darting glance, and those eyes, so compelling. ‘A chance encounter,’ she says. ‘I hardly recognised him but years of domesticity do that to a man.’

‘Apologies… apologies.’ Jessica returns and interrupts this brittle exchange. She ends the interview shortly afterwards with a promise to be in touch with Karin as soon as a decision is made.

‘She’s definitely tuned into our wavelength,’ Jessica says when the door closes behind her. ‘I’m more than happy to go with Kingfisher Graphics.’

Karin Moylan is exactly the right person to redesign Lustrous magazine. To smarten it up so that more and more readers can stare at our vacuous, airbrushed photographs and envy a world that doesn’t exist.

‘She’s good,’ I admit. ‘I was also interested in our third interviewee. We should call him back for another interview.’

‘He’s not what we want.’ Jessica has decided. ‘You’ll enjoy working with each other on this project. It makes such a difference when there’s a good team spirit.’

I return to my office and stare out the window. I can’t remain in this job. I’ll toss burgers, clean offices, sweep the streets rather than sit facing her again. Her hands will be all over the magazine, the way they were all over the blackboard in our classroom when she drew my image for all to see.

I press my nails hard against my bottom lip as I recall in detail the morning I entered the classroom and saw a naked figure with small breasts, a grotesque penis and large feet drawn on the blackboard. No name was written underneath but the flaming red hair and exaggerated corkscrew curls were instantly recognisable. Unable to look at the pupils clustered around the blackboard I ran from the classroom to the toilets. I huddled in a cubicle until Jenny, who’d gone directly to the principal’s office to report the drawing, coaxed me out.

The blackboard was wiped clean when we returned to the classroom. None of the students claimed to know who drew it. No one was held responsible, nor could it be proved that Karin had anything to do with it. But I saw the truth in her eyes when she pressed a finger to her cheek and tilted her head, appraisingly. Nothing has changed since then.

Liam taps on my office and enters. ‘I reckon we’ve made our decision.’ he says. ‘As far as I’m concerned it’s the last interviewee. I’m taking her out for coffee. I’ll be back in half an hour.’

He taps on my computer and opens a Core file. ‘Take a look at those shots and write some captions for them. Jimmy French is off sick today and I need them ready for production by five.’

‘Sorry, Liam.’ At last I can let my anger show. ‘Do it yourself. Core is not my responsibility.’

He frowns, leans over my shoulder, overpowers me with his aftershave.

‘In Wall Publications everyone mucks in. Otherwise Jessica throws a hissy fit and, believe me, that’s something you don’t want to experience.’

I stare at the screen after he leaves. It’s typical Core material, the photographs taken outside a nightclub. A dead-eyed model hanging from the arm of a celebrity chef who does a weekly cookery programme on television with his chirpy, bright-eyed wife. How will she feel when she sees these photographs? I want to delete them but nothing can be hidden anymore. Hard drives, CCTV, mobile phones, paparazzi. This wife’s fate is sealed and his too. As for the model – we’ll feature her in Lustrous when she comes out of rehab.

Caked Out! I write and delete. In the Stew suffers the same fate. I close down the file and write a note to Liam. Do it yourself and let me deal with Jessica’s hissy fit!!! I dig my pen viciously into the paper.

I enter his office and leave the note on his desk. Karin has left her portfolio case against the wall. She must be coming back to pick it up. I hesitate then walk towards the door. The corridor is empty. Quickly, I return and place it on the desk. I unzip it and turn the pages. My hands begin to sweat. One of the plastic pages slips from my grip with a heavy flap. I lift it again and stare at an image. Jagged shards of ice, blazing. The letters SHARD chiselled as finely as pinheads. The pages slap loudly as I close the leather case. The zip jams on the corner. I lean my hands on the desk to steady my breathing. It’s almost four o’clock. They’re due back any moment. I pull the zip back then ease it gently around the corner before returning the case to its original position.

Unable to face the stifling atmosphere of my office, I run outside and stand on the steps. I remember the unnecessary force Jake used when he ripped the Kingfisher Graphics business card in two. I remember the text… New York… New York… homeward bound…

Children’s voices ring from the park across the square. The tall Georgian houses sway towards me. I grip the railings. Rage tears at my throat. It pulses in my wrists and in the serrated scars I believed had healed. New York… New York calling… Frank Sinatra sings in my ear. An ear worm. I’ve always disliked that song, the inevitable circle swaying backwards and forwards at the end of a wedding, drunken legs kicking outwards.

Chapter 27

Jake

Their first harrowing row marked a change in their relationship. Now, Jake heard steel in Karin’s voice when she spoke about give and take. Essential elements in a shared relationship, she said. Sooner or later Nadine had to know the truth. So, too, had his children and Eleanor. When would that be? She put these nightmarish questions to him calmly, argued rationally that she should not be expected to hide indefinitely in the shadows of his family life.

Tonight, in an Italian bistro overlooking the Liffey, she asked him to bring her to Sea Aster. She cut him short when he mentioned his pact with Nadine.

‘Did she tell you we met?’ She drew back from him, her face shadowed in the glow of candles.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘In Lustrous on Friday. I’ve been commissioned to revamp the magazine.’

‘You never mentioned.’

‘I figured she’d tell you.’

‘How? I spent the night with you. She’d left for London when I returned so I wasn’t talking to her.’

The waiter came to the table to offer them a dessert menu. They both declined and waited in silence while he removed their dishes.

‘What did she say to you?’ Jake asked when they were along again.

‘That her marriage is in perfect working order.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘She told me you’re still together. Some things never change, that’s how she phrased it. I can take that two ways. You’re together under one roof or together in the same bed. Which one is true?’

‘You know exactly what she meant. I haven’t lied to you about our living arrangements.’

‘Then why don’t we spend tonight in your apartment?’

‘I told you – ’

‘She’s in London with Liam Brett. They’re not due back until tomorrow.’

‘That doesn’t matter. We have an agreement.’

‘Who am I supposed to believe? You? Her? She knows we met on that flight. You claim you didn’t discuss it with her. She has no reason to lie. You, on the other hand, have every reason to deceive me. You promised me a future yet you won’t even allow me to see your apartment.’ She pouted warningly. ‘We spend all our time in my space. Tonight, I want to spend some time in yours. Otherwise, this just becomes another one-sided relationship.’

The silence when they entered Apartment 2 was eerie, almost oppressive. Jake switched on lights, turned up the music, opened wine. Nothing could banish his unease.

‘Stop worrying.’ Karin watched in amusement as he gathered unwashed dishes from the coffee table and carried them to the kitchen. ‘You’re making me nervous. Sit down and relax.’

‘Just give me a moment.’ He headed to the bathroom, unable to remember the last time he splashed Harpic around the rim of the toilet bowl. In the bedroom he picked up his clothes from the floor and shoved them into a laundry basket. Thankfully, he had changed the sheets the previous day.

He was smoothing out the duvet when she entered the bedroom. Her glance flickered around the room, checking for the feminine touch, the spill of powder on the dressing table, necklaces hanging from black, ornamental fingers, perfume, a silk scarf draped over the back of a chair. Satisfied that this was an all-male environment, she stood before the full-length chervil mirror. Slowly, teasingly, she opened her blouse, her gaze sultry yet playful as she undid each button. Her breasts rose, plump and firm, from the cleavage of her bra. She waved the blouse over her head before tossing it across the room then unzipped her skirt, kicked off her high heels, rolled down the lacy tops of her stockings. The urge to take her in that instant, to plunge in deep and hard, to hear her sharp little cries and feel her nails digging deep into his shoulders almost overpowered him. Her eyes – reflecting back at him in the mirror – commanded him not to touch her. She unhooked her bra, tantalisingly removed her thong. Only then did she turn to face him, her body as smooth and flawless as a doll. The air was musky with her scent, her sense of anticipation as he lifted her in his arms and lowered her onto the bed. He kicked off his shoes as she unbuckled his belt, her fingers nimbly unzipping him, freeing him. She laughed at his urgency as he pulled off his shirt then traced his lips from her throat to her breasts, moved downwards over her taut stomach. She opened to him, her legs rampantly splayed as his tongue probed deeper, tasting her, hearing her whimpering cries, the rush of her breathing.

Nadine’s presence hovered above him like a reproachful shadow. He forced her away. The unknown could not hurt her but in that pause, that instant of guilt, remorse, shame, he had no idea what to call it, he became aware of sounds from Apartment 1.

He tensed as he heard the clatter of wheels. Nadine was dragging her overnight case up the stairs. He tightened his hands on Karin’s wrists, forced her to be still.

‘That’s Nadine. You said she wasn’t due back until tomorrow.’

‘That’s what Liam Brett told me. Monday, he said. Not Sunday.’

‘Then she must have come back early.’

‘It doesn’t matter. She won’t know I’m here.’ He felt her resistance, the strength of her thighs as she arched towards him.

‘We should leave. I can’t… not with Nadine upstairs.’

‘Poor Jake, you’re really spooked.’ She laughed softly and ran her finger over his lips. ‘Just relax.’

He heard music, a door slamming, a phone ringing. Nadine was right about sound carrying. It was a cacophony. She crossed her bedroom floor. He imagined the high arch of her foot when she kicked off her shoe, then the second one. He listened to the pull of wood against wood as she opened drawers, hinges whining, a chair being dragged closer to the kitchen table, the rumble of pipes as the taps ran. Why had he not been conscious of those sounds before now? Had she moved so silently that the only indication of her presence was the occasional blare of the radio? No, he thought, this evening was no different to any other. It was guilt that honed his awareness. Lies. That was the difference. Submerged in lies… submerged in desire… submerged yet afloat. The words contradicted each other and mired him in deceit. The wood squeaked as Nadine climbed down the stairs. That would be the seventh step. It had creaked even when he was a boy. He heard the front door open and close. His doorbell rang.

‘Does she usually come to your apartment at this time of night?’ Karin whispered.

‘No, never… not at night.’

‘Don’t answer it.’

‘Something must be wrong.’ He pulled on a pair of boxers, grabbed his fleece top from a chair and padded bare-footed towards the front door.

‘We need to talk.’ Nadine had changed into trainers and a tracksuit but there was nothing casual about her expression.

He stepped outside, eased the door closed behind him. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened to Ali?’

‘Ali’s fine.’

‘Stuart?’

‘He’s good. Are you going to ask me in or do we have to conduct this conversation on your doorstep?’

Light flared from the breakfast room. Nadine turned, startled and walked to the bay window. He watched, too shocked to move, as she stopped and raised her hands to cover her eyes. Karin, unaware that she could be seen, was standing in the curve of glass. She was wearing one of his shirts. Not just any shirt. His favourite one, pale blue twill, a present from Nadine. She had bunched it loosely over her bare shoulders, her hands clutching the two edges protectively over her breasts. The gesture made her nakedness underneath even more provocative. Suddenly, aware that she was visible, she pulled the curtains across but it was too late. The enormity of his betrayal washed over him when Nadine dropped her hands and he saw her stricken expression. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. The only sound to break the silence was the slap of her hand against his cheek. Its force sent him staggering backwards. By the time he recovered she was running towards her car. He followed her but he knew that no matter how fast he ran he would never be able to catch her.