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

Автор книги: Laura Elliot

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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 55

Jake

Eleanor was relaxed but determined to make a full recovery. It still felt strange, the newness of talking to her without that bristling sense of busyness that always used to surround her. Her bungalow was cosy, a word he would never have attributed to his childhood home. He knew Cora was responsible for the softer lighting and vases of fresh cut flowers, the wholesome meals she prepared for him when he visited.

It was days after her stroke before he remembered Cora’s admission about Sea Aster’s planning permission. Perhaps, in the confusion of that day, he had misunderstood. Eleanor had never given any indication that she had changed her mind and had always rejected his attempts to pay rent on the basis that he was maintaining the property until the conversion could begin.

She was relaxing in the back garden, a rug over her knees, when he called to see her after the UK tour. Cora carried out a tray of tea and scones then discreetly withdrew.

‘Enough about that,’ Eleanor said when Jake asked too many questions about her health. ‘I wanted to talk to you and Nadine together but she shows no inclination to return home.’

‘She is at home – ’

‘For goodness sake, she’s living in a shipping container. That hardly qualifies as a home unless you’re an unfortunate immigrant seeking asylum.’ It would take more than an ischemic stroke for Eleanor to lose her interruptive skills.

‘What do you want to talk to us about?’

‘I’ve come to a decision. I’m gifting Sea Aster to the two of you. A fifty-fifty split.’

‘Are you joking?’

‘Have you ever known me to have a sense of humour?’

‘But… that’s very generous – ’

‘Call it generosity, conscience money, motherly love, whatever,’ she said. ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since my stroke.’ She began to cry, a sudden loud outburst that startled him.

‘It’s okay… it’s okay.’ He patted her hand and glanced helplessly towards the house. ‘Will I call Cora?’

She blew her nose vigorously and her voice, although muffled when she spoke again, carried all its old authority. ‘Don’t bother Cora. A few tears here and there never did anyone any harm. I’ve already spoken to my solicitor about changing the deeds. He’ll be in touch with you in due course.’

‘But you can’t… what about your plans for First Affiliation?’

‘Dead in the water. I don’t miss it.’ He thought she was going to cry again but her voice hardened. ‘That’s the extraordinary thing. I thought leaving the party would be akin to an amputation. All my limbs were in place last time I checked. They may not be working as well as I’d like but time and physio will take care of that. I need a second chance, not a second home.’

How could he possibly repay this debt of gratitude? Or even find the appropriate words to thank her.

‘Nadine won’t come back.’

‘She’ll still be the mother of my grandchildren, even after your divorce comes through. I don’t want any arguments. Sea Aster belongs to both of you. Decide between yourselves how to work that out. Get rid of that ugly wall in the hall and open it up to the light. I want my grandchildren to have a base they can call home when they visit.’

Nadine was equally stunned when he rang her that night.

‘Do you think her mind is… you know… affected?’ she asked.

‘She’s one hundred per cent lucid,’ he reassured her. ‘I suspect she was planning to do this even before her stroke.’

‘You know I can’t possibly live there.’

‘The house will be yours as much as mine.’

‘I’m sorry, Jake. Sea Aster means nothing to me. She’s always going to be there – ’

‘Only if we let her.’

‘You think you can banish her that quickly? I don’t. Once the deeds have been gifted to us I’m signing my half over to you. It’ll be my property. I can do as I choose with it. Has she been in touch… texts, phone calls… letters?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied.

‘No contact at all?’

‘Apart from a message I put on her answering machine when I came back from London. I threatened her with a court injunction if she contacts any of us again.’

‘That must have her quivering in her little blue shoes.’

‘You don’t have to be sarcastic.’

‘Do you seriously think she’ll pay a blind bit of notice to a threat like that? What solid evidence have you got that will convince a judge she’s staking our family.’

She waited for his reply and when none was forthcoming she said, ‘What she’s doing goes way beyond that fling you had with her. I met her when I came home to see Eleanor. We took afternoon tea together.’

‘Afternoon tea?’

‘Just because we hate other doesn’t mean we can’t be civilised.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Because it had nothing to do with you.’

‘Nothing―’

‘She’s convinced I’m responsible for her father’s death.’

‘That’s ludicrous. How could you be responsible… ?’ He stopped, remember the comment Karin had made about Nadine destroying her family. He had brushed her words aside, believed them to be another example of her heightened sense of drama, her unbounded need for attention. Now, as Nadine cut across his surprise, he tried to pull together the strands of that holiday. To search beneath the sun-trapped days on the beach and the headiness of having two beautiful girls vying for his attention. What else had been going on in Monsheelagh Bay that would have led Karin to make such a brutal accusation?

‘The past would have stayed buried if you hadn’t brought her back into our lives,’ Nadine’s voice had a flattened certainty that chilled him. ‘That’s that part I find impossible to forgive.’

Chapter 56

Nadine

I can’t forgive him… but I wonder if Karin Moylan ever left me. Unfinished business. I pushed those stolen letters to the back of my mind as the years passed but when the memory reared up I’d feel the sudden clutch of panic, knowing they were in her hands. Gradually, the words I wrote were bleached from my mind but not their substance. No, that would never fade.

I tense every time Jake rings. As yet, he hadn’t mentioned anything about letters being dropped anonymously through his letterbox but I’m haunted by the knowledge that there’s one more out there. That’s all I wrote before sanity and the slam of a door closing saved my soul.

The final letter arrives. Samantha rings on behalf of her twin. Sam doesn’t have the vocabulary necessary to express extreme embarrassment. She emails a copy. I read it quickly, the last spoonful of medicine gulped down before my stomach turns.

Dear Max

It was a signal. I know it was, even though you were looking at Joan when you said, ‘There’ll be a shower of meteors tonight. The sky should be magnificent.’

She didn’t say anything. I’m not sure she even heard you. It’s like she was stoned out of her mind only she wasn’t. She wasn’t even drunk. She just seemed separated from us by a massive black cloud. I can’t figure out how she can look really nice at times and then her face sags like she’s wearing some kind of sad skin mask.

Karin said the only stars she wants to see are in the cinema. She’s hardly spoken to me since the picnic by the river when we saw the kingfisher. Did she really expect me to lie to you about her age? I still feel your fingers in my hair when you put that feather there. I wish it hadn’t blown away. I’d keep it forever. You gave me that same look tonight, kind of sly, like you didn’t want them to see and you said, ‘Fireworks in the sky. You don’t know what you’re missing.’

I wasn’t going to go out. I wanted to and I didn’t. I couldn’t decide. I kept going to the window and looking out. I saw you staring up at the sky. The cottage was quiet, like it was holding its breath. But that was me, I guess. I wore my jeans and my jumper, even though it was warm. I was afraid yet not afraid. Is that how drug addicts feel? All fog-brained up with wanting and not wanting?

You were right about the meteors. They were like arrows of light in the sky. I could see the Milky Way all stretched out like spilled milk being brushed with a feather. A kingfisher feather. You said I was a poet as well as an artist and I’d be famous one day.

‘Always remember tonight,’ you said and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes and you kissed my eyelids, like you wanted to seal what we’d seen there forever. My knees were shaking so much I was afraid I’d fall. I was frightened but you told me not to be. You said you wouldn’t hurt me and when you kissed my neck it was as if all those meteors were exploding inside my head. You knelt down on the grass in front of me and then I knelt too, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to think about Joan or Karin or Jake or anyone but you, kneeling there like you were praying in front of me and we kissed like that, I don’t know how many times, more than 3 definitely, and then I was lying on the grass. It was damp and ticklish on the back of my neck. I was glad I had my jeans on because they’re really difficult to get off but not my jumper… you pulled it over my head and my hair was all tangled in it. That’s when I got scared. You were heavy on me and wouldn’t listen when I said stop. I couldn’t breathe. I kept on thinking of Joan and her sad face and that what we were doing was going to make her even sadder. Not that she would find out. I’d never tell her. Not ‘til my dying day. But what if she guessed that you were touching my breasts, my nipples… oh my God… or if Karin knew. She’d kill me absolutely kill me stone dead. All I felt was frightened, like I didn’t know you anymore. I wanted you to tell me you loved me but you didn’t ‘cause you were breathing so fast and kissing me all the time and then we heard the door slam. You said it was the wind. I was glad because it made you pull my jumper back on. Everything was different, even the sky. You shook me and said, ‘Jesus Christ, if you say anything…’

Why were you so angry with me? You’re the one who hurt me, not the other way round. I was glad the wind blew the door closed but now I’m scared all over again. What if it wasn’t the wind? I wanted to look in at Karin and see if she was awake but I didn’t. I heard your bedroom door close. You’re in the next room lying beside Joan. Why did I go out tonight? Why does what we did feel awful and exciting at the same time? I hate myself. I really do. What would have happened if you’d taken off my jeans? Oh my God… oh my God! How will I face Karin in the morning? I hope it rains tomorrow night and all the meteors have fallen. I’m going to be strong from now on.

Goodbye Max!!!!!

It’s terrifying and cringing, all that innocence… all that womanly guile. Memory is a conjurer. A sleight-of-hand trickster that burnishes bright what was once a tarnished reality. Who was I that summer? What was I thinking? I can remember the longings, all that passion… but I can’t feel them. The emotions could belong to someone else, someone I don’t know, or don’t care to know. But the fear that followed is stamped indelibly on my mind. The search beams on the ocean, the clattering sound of the search helicopter, sirens, engines, voices, the ceaseless crash of the waves against the rocks below Cowrie Cottage… and Karin’s grief when Max’s body was recovered from the sea. On that day she keened as loudly as Alcyone must have done when she was told that her beloved Ceyx had drowned.

I went with my parents to his funeral. Joan embraced me. She was sober then and has remained so ever since. She never read those letters. If she had done so she would have gazed upon me with the same cold and palpable hatred that radiated from Karin’s eyes when she accused me of being responsible for her father’s death.

Chapter 57

Jake

The wall dividing the hall was gone. Cheap plasterboard disintegrated in clouds of dust when Hart and Reedy helped Jake to bring it down. When the dust eventually cleared, he was able to appreciate the light streaming through the stained glass panels above the front door. The stairs looked wide and elegant as they rose upwards to the empty rooms Nadine had once occupied. She remained adamant about signing her share of Sea Aster over to him but he still believed she could change her mind when she saw the house returned to its original loveliness.

Daryl was interested in setting up a recording studio with him in the barn. Times were tough for financial consultants, he confided to Jake. Too many of his clients were being declared bankrupt. With the way the recession was going that situation was unlikely to improve in the near future. He needed to diversify. They could form a partnership – his financial know-how and Jake’s creative talents.

The last band practice had been fractious. Reedy looked more wizened than usual as he lectured Hart over his timing on a chord change and Hart, abandoning, for once, his Zen-like tranquillity, accused Reedy of being a ‘know-it-all prick,’ which was true, Reedy agreed, since he was the only one in Shard with a lifetime of musical knowledge, disillusionment, disappointment and street cred behind him. Feral’s face looked wan under the light. She performed a thunderous tattoo on her drums to silence the argument and announced that all this arguing was creating disharmony in her womb.

Shard’s success had taken them by surprise but it was creating its own problems. Jake was afraid the band would not survive in its present format. Reedy would go on, and Feral too. They were born to be musicians but he was unsure about Hart, who was worried about Hartland to Health’s falling membership. Touring was a problem for him and Daryl, and Mik Abel was already organising a Shard tour in Germany. Jake, too, was beginning to wonder if there was a sell by date on a dream. A moment when it turned from an achievement into something faintly ridiculous? The memory of the Core feature and its consequences refused to fade away.

Tonight Shard had played The Bare Pit again. A good gig, good crowd, good atmosphere. Harmony seemed to have been restored to Feral’s womb and to the band. Jake fought off a wave of tiredness as he passed under the motorway bridge straddling the estuary. Years before, when news broke that it was to be built, Rosanna had actively protested against its erection. She was convinced it would destroy the bird sanctuary she loved. Her protests came to no avail but the wildlife now co-existed peacefully with the low rumble of traffic above them.

The sudden wail of a siren reverberated through the van. Two blue lights revolved in the rear-view mirror. Jake pulled sharply into the grass verge as a fire engine swerved past, followed a moment later by a second one. Seabirds fluttered upwards like startled wraiths and the swans, disturbed from their trance-like glide, lifted their heads from under their wings. Two garda cars sped past. Jake’s anxiety grew as the blue lights momentarily disappeared around a bend before reappearing. They were going in only one direction.

On Mallard Cove the hedgerows were in full leaf. Branches whipped against the windows as he slowed. The pot holes had not been repaired and seaweed was strewn on the road. Smoke billowed upwards, caught in the glare of the headlights. He had rounded the next bend before he saw the flames shooting skywards. He skidded to a halt by the edge of the shore and ran across the road. The honk of swans, familiar by now and, mostly, unnoticed, seemed to have an added urgency, as did the splash of water washing across the pebbled shoreline. The back wall of the barn formed part of the boundary surrounding Sea Aster and he could see the fire raging within it.

When he had identified himself a female guard allowed him through the cordon.

‘The fire’s confined to the barn,’ she said. ‘They don’t think there’s any danger of it spreading any further. No one appears to be in the house and – ’

‘It’s empty,’ Jake reassured her.

Firemen in yellow helmets surrounded the barn. Water spiralled upwards from their hoses. The howl of flames as they tried to gain new territory had a terrifying intensity. Jake imagined the old sofa igniting, the Shard posters curling and kindling, the wooden floor crackling, the amplifiers and microphones sparking, melting, everything consumed in the flames. His songs too, his laptop and the notebooks of rough notes he had not copied or recorded. His mind was a blank when he tried to comprehend how much information he had lost and could never retrieve.

The guard urged him to keep back, let the experts deal with it. The flames died quickly. In the scale of a night’s work, this fire was easily contained, said one of the firemen as the hoses were wound up. Chemicals, now those were a different story, he added. They never knew what they were going to come up against in that kind of situation.

‘I suspect a faulty wire was to blame.’ He took off his helmet and rubbed his hand over his bald head, streaked it with soot. ‘Either that or you left a heater on.’

Jake shook his head. He was meticulous about checking everything before he locked the barn after rehearsals. The smell of smoke was strong enough to make him gag. When the fire brigade and the squad cars finally left he rang Nadine. Her answering machine came on. The same thing happened when he tried to contact Ali, Brian and the twins. Did anyone pick up anymore, he raged. What was the sense in having a family unit if they were unavailable at times of intense stress?

Hart drove over immediately after he phoned, accompanied by Daryl and Reedy. They surveyed the blackened interior, their expressions growing bleaker as they realised the extent of the damage. They stayed with him for the night, drank beer and talked about the old days. Daryl quoted verbatim Hot Press reviews the young Shard had received while a sober and sympathetic Hart did a fry-up for breakfast. Reedy promised to contact a colleague who was an expert on data retrieval. With a bit of luck the songs could be saved from the laptop hard drive.

After they left Jake showered and collapsed into bed. He was unable to sleep yet unable to rise to face the blackened ruins. Ali, waking to his message, rang immediately. She kept crying, as if something precious had been stolen from her, and was too incoherent to be any comfort. Nadine, full of apologies for not getting his message earlier, rang shortly afterwards.

‘It’s awful, Jake. All your precious songs… it’s awful. Have you any idea how it started? Could it have been the wires? The electrics always looked a bit shambolic.’

‘The wires didn’t cause the fire.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ Her voice dropped, as if she suspected they could be overheard.

‘I don’t know… I don’t know…’

‘If you believe what I think you believe then you must go to the police immediately.’

‘What can I tell them? I’ve no proof.’

Later, after the loss adjuster had been and gone, Jake imagined the charge he would make. The evidence he would be asked to present if he did report his suspicions to the police. Nadine’s slashed paintings, now burned. A piece of pottery, legally purchased and filled with memorabilia of a broken relationship. The sense of an invisible presence in empty rooms, objects that he could have moved in absent-minded moments and displaced. Visits to a theatre and a tapas bar, to nightclubs to hear her favourite band. Those friendly and encouraging texts and emails. A damaged van filed in a garda report as vandalism by persons unknown. What else… oh yes… an unflattering magazine feature about Shard. Eleanor’s stroke due to high blood pressure which she had ignored, despite medical advice… and the barn. The loss adjuster had given his verdict. The gas heater had been left on. Indisputable evidence, the path of the flame a clear delineation. The heater had burned on the lowest setting and probably would not have caused any damage except for the close proximity of a wicker bin filled to the brim with sheets of paper. When they ignited the flames licked against the old sofa and its inflammable material had caused an immediate combustion… and then there was the pièce de résistance. Her engagement had appeared last week in The Irish Times.

Liam Brett and Karin Moylan are pleased to announce….

Jake saw himself through the eyes of the guard who would file his report. A delusional egotist, caught up in his fantasies about being stalked by a beautiful woman. He would be laughed out of the garda station for making an accusation that had as many holes as a sieve.