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

Автор книги: Laura Elliot

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

Chapter 70

Sensations. Hot. Cold. Sore. Numb. Sting. Tingles. Pressure. Wet. Dry. Shivery. Fear.

Sounds. Ping. Hiss. Bleep. Sigh. Sob. Whish. Whirr. Laugh. Whispers.

Smells. Flowers. Food. Disinfectant. Perfume…

‘The kingfisher is a beautiful bird. Deadly and aggressive. Not advisable to mess with it. I watched him slide that feather into your hair. I knew then that my suspicions were right. Star-gazing when all you saw was him.

‘My mother hated his other women. She never stopped drinking long enough to know they meant nothing to him… or maybe she was drinking because she knew she was included in that truth. I should ask her, I suppose. But we’ve never been into mother-daughter intimacies and, to be honest, I don’t care one way or the other.

‘When I read your letters I was angry with him. I believed he’d debased himself. I allowed myself to believe your fantastical lies… your mad ravings. You, my best friend. It was intolerable. I heard them fighting that night. I was used to their rows, the names she threw at him… Saumya, Annalyse, Tara, Lynnette. He walked away from her, as he always did. As I wanted to do. Fifteen… eighteen… what was the difference? I wanted to be with him, not her but what was I to make of your lies and insinuations? I followed him. Do you understand? I followed him. He was standing on top of the cliff watching the lightening. Better than fireworks, he said. Better than a shower of meteors. I told him about your letters. Do you know what he called you? A stupid child. A fantasist! Do you know what I called him? A liar. Liar! Liar! I pushed him away when he tried to hold me and ran from him. The wind, I hear it still, screaming in from the ocean, and the thunder. How was I to know he’d slip? The mud turning to sludge. The earth breaking away and he was gone. I never knew. I was running… running to Jake… your letters safe in my keep. Jake would have read them that night. Afterwards, when we were alone. But then… but then…

‘He’s read them now. All of them. He had to know your whorish secrets… what you were like that summer. Lying in that cave with him when all you were thinking about was my father. Imagining him inside you… slut. Strange, isn’t it, how your letters destroyed my father and now they’ve destroyed you?

‘Was it as quick for you in the end? You and the sylph and the old woman who should have been put off the road years ago. You were not supposed to be there. I won’t have blood on my hands… not now… not then.

‘I’ll be back again. I know I can trust you to keep my secrets safe in your deep, dark well.

Hand on mouth. Tight. Door closes. Shivers on skin. Water in mouth. Stomach cramps. Can’t hold back. Imelda must come. Make me clean again… please… please come. I am soiled. I am nothing.

Jake here. Shame… shame…

‘Imelda…Imelda! Nadine needs attention.’

No one comes. Holds his eyes on mine… a new word… jewels… jewels… jewels…

‘Look at me, Nadine. Don’t think of anything else. None of this matters. You are my love… my love.’

He makes me clean. Basin. Sponge. Towel. Napkin. Opens window. Wind good. Air fresh.

Imelda sorry.

‘Terrible that you had to do that, Jake. We need two pairs of hands in this job, cutbacks… cutbacks… Are you sure you can manage? I’m run off my feet this evening.’

‘Yes. I’ll always manage.’

Jewels… jewels…

‘This is your painting, Nadine. It’s beautiful. I’m going to hang it here so that you can see it. And this angel, Aurora sends it with her love. I’m leaving it here on your bedside locker. Can you see? The angel of the veil, she calls it. Crazy woman, her and her dancing angels.’

Not jewels… tears! Tears falling everywhere.

And another word… love….

Days pass… words come when I don’t struggle. Like snowflakes on my tongue… then gone. Then back. Rain falls. Rain stops. Colours. Sky. Rainbow. Jake here. Kisses. Soft lips. Goes. Samantha drew rainbow and Sam too… and Brian… Ali… rainbow pictures on fridge… rainbow on angel wings… on wall. Rainbow on wall. See it. Count it. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Tap fingers. Seven times. Rainbow angel prism. Is promise. Tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap… tap…

Chapter 71

Jake

Imelda had warned him. Nadine was restless, constant eye twitches, her hand jerking towards the metal frame of the bedside locker and banging against it. Jake sat beside her bed and switched on her iPod. Usually, she was calm when she heard her favourite music but not today. Her knuckles were clenched and reddened as she beat against the metal locker. He tried to ignore the sound, hoping she would become exhausted from the repetitive motion. When this failed he placed his hand over hers, willed her to be easy. Her fingers twitched against his palm and he, aware that he was causing her distress, released his grip.

‘Guess what? Feral’s had a baby boy. Matthew. She’s as bad as Daryl with the mobile. Did I tell you about the attic? Remember you said we should have a window overlooking the estuary. The architect says it’s possible. Anything’s possible, Nadine. Anything.’

Was Eoin right when he claimed that whistling in the wind was as effective as these rambling one-sided conversations? Nadine’s breathing was laboured today, a harsh rasp that worried him. Did she need oxygen? Her head jerked sideways towards the bedside locker. Her eyelids fluttered. He had withstood the temptation to throw the tacky little figurine away and, instead, placed it on the locker in the hope that she could see it. What had Aurora called it? Pasket…or something peculiar like that.

‘I spent the morning working in the attic,’ he continued. ‘I never realised there was so much space up there. It’ll make a better studio than the barn. Daryl has drawn up an amazing business plan. All he needs to do is convince the bank to lend. We’ve decided to call it Tõnality Recording Studio. That was your name. Remember when we were trying to come up with one for our company and you said, “What about Tõnality?’’

Nadine tapped once then stopped. Two more taps at a faster tempo. Three beats and the tempo increased. She ended with four rapid beats and her eyes closed as if the convulsive effort of moving her fist had finally tired her out. She opened her eyes after a moment and banged the locker again. Suddenly, alert to the beat of her knuckles, Jake’s body tensed. That awareness, her sharp focus, was she demanding his attention? He listened again. It was the same sequence. Could she possibly be communicating with him in his own language? Crotchet, quaver, triplet, semi quaver? In sync with her beat and hardly daring to breathe, he placed the palm of his hand underneath her finger. Her knuckles, he noticed, were grazed and swollen.

‘Tap once if you can hear me.’

Tap!

‘Are you making music?’

Tap!

‘Do you know me?’

Tap!

‘Am I Brian?’

Tap... tap!

‘Samuel?’

Tap… tap!

‘Jake?’

Tap!

‘Oh… my darling… my darling…’

Her eyelashes fluttered, not randomly as he had been led to believe but slowly, as if the muscles controlling them were moving to her own internal command. Sunshine spilled through the window and bathed the ward in a white glare. Her eyes once again slid sideways in the direction of the bedside locker. The angel figurine glistened, its shadow elongated against the wall. Her eyes fastened on the wings, glitzy blue sequins. He was attuned to her emotions, his senses alert to every movement she made.

‘Are you frightened, Nadine?’

Tap!

‘Are you afraid of the nurses… the doctors?’

Tap… tap!

‘Of me?’

Tap… tap!

‘Blue? Are you afraid of blue?’

Tap!

Her breathing became stressed.

‘Karin was here?’

Tap!

‘How often has she come. Once… twice…’

Tap… tap! A trickle of perspiration gathered in the hollow of her throat. Her hand was clammy, cold.

‘Many times?’

Tap!

Imelda entered. Her smile disappeared when she heard Nadine’s breathing.

‘She needs oxygen,’ she said. ‘ I’m going to call Dr Coyle immediately.’

‘Car.’ He spoke directly to Nadine. ‘Was there a car leaving Sea Aster on the night of the crash?’

Tap!

‘Do you hear me, Jake?’ The nurse’s voice carried the full weight of her authority. ‘Nadine needs attention. You must leave while I attend to her.’

He paced the corridor until Imelda emerged from the ward.

‘Nadine is communicating with me.’ He spoke quietly, knowing it was important to remain calm for her sake. ‘That’s why she’s hitting the bedside locker. She’s been trying to attract my attention.’

‘Involuntary spasms. We’ve explained this to you already. She’s bruised her knuckles quite badly. If it continues we’ll have to place her hands in gloves to prevent her hurting herself any further.’

He had seen such gloves, soft but obscenely puffed up like those worn by a boxer, used to prevent patients pulling their tubes out.

‘Don’t you dare touch her.’ His chest heaved. ‘My wife is conscious, aware, communicating. I want to see her neurologist immediately.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Saunders.’ Imelda’s tone became formal, her professional mask keeping him at bay. ‘Professor Daly is an extremely busy man and according to the Glasgow Coma Scale – ’

‘Fuck the Glasgow Coma Scale and listen to me.’ Composure was no longer an option. ‘Does a woman called Karin Moylan visit my wife?’

The nurse shook her head. ‘There’s no need to be abusive, Mr Saunders.’

‘Does she?’

‘I don’t recall that name. Check at reception. If she’s been here she’ll have signed the visitor’s book. I know you’re upset. Believe me, we all want what’s best for Nadine.’

He left her talking to the air and took the elevator to the reception desk. The receptionist showed him the list of names from the previous weeks. She had no recollection of anyone called Karin signing in. Jake scanned the signatures. Not so many visitors now, although he noticed that Hart came regularly. He had talked to Jake about working on Nadine’s chakras. Positive energy released into the white light of awareness. No sign of Karin’s name anywhere. Jessica Walls had been to see her. Quite a few visits, which surprised him. He had not realised she and Nadine were that friendly. She always came outside visiting hours on Wednesday evening when he was at band practice.

He phoned Lustrous. Jessica Walls apologised profusely when he introduced himself. Life was so hectic these days. Everyone in the fast lane. Nadine’s accident had caused her to pause and consider what all this rushing around was about. She had intended visiting her and would do so as soon as the latest issue of Lustrous was put to bed.

Chapter 72

The carpark in Mount Veronica was hidden behind a screen of trees. Cars came and went but, as yet, there was no sign of Karin’s blue Subaru. Jake parked his mother’s car – Eleanor had yet to start driving again – under the sheltering branches. He was still stunned by the speed with which Nadine’s medical team had swung into action once they realised she was responsive. He imagined her brain, new pathways criss-crossing each other, forming new connections, new functions and, how, when she held his hand, her grip was a little stronger each time.

He remained out of sight behind one of the pillars in the foyer when Karin entered. He could see her clearly, her pert, confident stride as she approached the reception desk and signed the visitor’s book.

‘Hello, Jessica.’ He was beside her before she looked up. A faint gasp, a pause, her hand fluttering upwards as if to touch her cheek then falling to her side, the signs of shock so fleeting as to be imagined.

Maria, the receptionist, closed the visitor’s book and watched as they walked silently towards the exit.

‘Nadine is fully conscious,’ he said when the automatic doors closed behind them and they stood facing each other.

‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘She must have been in hell.’

‘Yes,’ he nodded. ‘In a hell of your making. If you ever attempt to contact her again I’ll kill you with my bare hands.’

‘Kill me, Jake? You desired me once and now you want me dead.’ A nerve jerked beneath her eye but, otherwise she remained impassive. Perhaps that was her madness. Not to care or be afraid of the consequences of her actions. What barrier had she stepped across to arrive in that space?

‘It’s not an idle threat, Karin. I love my wife. I’ll do what’s necessary to protect her.’

‘You think she loves you? Fool! The only man she ever loved was my father – ’

‘This has nothing to do with your father.’

‘It has everything to do with him.’

‘I don’t want to know – ’

‘You needn’t worry, Jake. I’m not going to divulge some pathetic incest confession. My father was a charmer, not an abuser. Those other women meant nothing to him. I could cope with them but it was intolerable when she was my best friend. You read her letters. I had to make you understand what it was like for me, knowing what she did with him… I saw them. Do you understand… I saw them together.’ Her voice quivered suddenly. ‘Have you any idea how that affected me?’

‘You caused that accident–’

‘It was no accident. She drove my father to his death. All those years I’ve been tormented… I can’t forgot… can’t forgive. I saw them together… so many times. She thought I didn’t notice but how could I not see what was going on… she was trying to steal him away from me. Why couldn’t she have been satisfied with you? She’s to blame for everything…’

A sob refused to break. She touched her throat, as if to free the sound then swung away from him and walked towards the car park. He let her go, afraid of what he would do if he touched her. She had driven away by the time he reached Eleanor’s car. He pressed his hand against the door and bent over until he was able to breathe normally.

Berlin rocks. An analysis of the cell site would show that the text came from the vicinity of Mallard Cove on the night of the accident. But what could it prove? Shortly after Cora’s funeral, he had hammered a small wooden cross into the spot where she died. Every week he laid fresh flowers there. The guards had inspected the trajectory of the skid. The scum of seaweed that turned part of the road into a greasy slick. Only one set of tyres had been visible. Even they had been washed away when another high tide sent the swans swimming with lofty indifference over the accident scene.

A text bleeped on his mobile. He sat in the car and read it.

‘I’m in the beat of your heart, Jake,’ Karin had written. ‘Always remember that. I’ll be there until the moment it stops.’

Chapter 73

Nadine

A month has passed since my awakening. I struggle with memory. My speech is slurred and slow. I take one step, then two before my knees buckle. The following day I’m back at the bars again, one foot following the other. As a case study I’m presented as a triumph over hopelessness. This is what my medical team believe. My neurologist diagnoses selective retrograde amnesia, a rare condition, he says. I detect a tremor of doubt behind his certainty. I’m a medical mystery, a fragmented woman, whom he’s trying to put back together. The odds are against my full recovery. I’m given this information gently but firmly. My coma was profound and prolonged. I’m terrified the dark waves will carry me away again. The events that occurred before my accident are lost but I remember the younger years and, also, the memories I formed when I struggled from the blackness.

Jake collects me from Mount Veronica for my forty-second birthday and wheels me over the threshold of Sea Aster. They are all there to greet me, Donal with his patient smile, Eleanor on a walking stick, Brian with clay under his nails and a new pottery collection called Luminosity. Ali has Sara attached to her hip, and the twins, on Skype, are here in spirit if not in person.

Some memories are as bright as diamonds and as enduring. My heart folds over with love when I rock Sara in my arms and think about the random nature of existence. Ali is here in all her dark, moody beauty because of a faulty condom. Brian with his gift for moulding beautiful shapes exists because I forgot to insert my diaphragm one night when Jake and I argued over something long forgotten and made up with a few moments of frenzied sex. Sam and Samantha owe their athletic prowess to a bout of food poisoning that had expelled the last residue of the Pill from my system when I recovered and slid back into Jake’s arms. And I’m here again with all of them because he heard and understood the music I played for him. How content they seem, this family we created. Was it always like this? How could it be so if Jake and I had decided to divorce? My brain is a sponge mottled with gaps that memory once filled. My family’s patience is infinite as they explain my past. I can retain this new knowledge but I want my own memories, not those chosen by others.

Ali will leave us soon. Her agent contacted her about a new television series to be shot in London Studios. It’s a small part but has, I’m told, the potential to be developed. Opportunities have to be snatched when they orbit past and change direction. Like me, Ali has to begin again.

Mark Brewer has tried to contact her but she refuses to take his calls. She’s heard on the Barnstormer grapevine that things are not working out as he expected in New York. Every month he lodges money in an account for his daughter. He sends presents. They arrive by courier, a buggy and high chair, dresses in rainbow colours, sparkly shoes and cute hats.

She and Christine plan to move into Wharf Alley and look after Sara between them. Christine is still a sylph. The Arboretum Affair continued to attract full houses while I was steeped in darkness. Ali could return to the cast and work under their new director but she wants a fresh start. No negative echoes, she says, yet I see her grief when she believes she’s unobserved. I want her to face her loss. Not hide from it as I once did, seeking oblivion in pain.

My mobile phone rings during the meal. The number of my ID screen is unknown. No one speaks when I answer. The silence vibrates with hatred. She’s one memory I retain. Is she listening to my family’s voices around the table, the clink of dishes being passed from one to the other, the slosh of wine in glasses? The silence stretches. One of us must break it. I’ve learned patience during those months in Mount Veronica and she is always the first to hang up.

‘Wrong number,’ I tell them when her phone goes dead. Only Jake pays attention, his expression alert and tense.

‘Was I very unhappy?’ I ask him when he drives me back to my ward.

‘You needed the freedom to make your own choices,’ he says.

‘And did I?’

‘Yes.’ Something in his voice prevents me asking further questions.

He will leave me for a few days soon. Shard are building a German fan base. He worries about leaving me but I’m fine. Madge Brennan has taken me on as her pet project and has organised a visitor’s rota that includes some of my old neighbours from Oakdale. I’ll be well entertained until he returns. The day has taken its toll. My arms are limp, my mind blank. And once again I’m filled with dread in case I fall headlong back into the void.

Jenny rings to wish me a happy birthday. She tells me about a holiday we spent together, trips we took to Whistler, Grouse Mountain, Vancouver Island. Her words form pictures, ski slopes, snow sculptures, a clock that puffs steam like an old-fashioned train. Lakes glinting like shattered crystal. Someone is standing beside me, not Jenny or her friendly Larry, but someone whose name escapes me until Jenny gently nudges me into the past. Daveth… Daveth…

He came to Mount Veronica. I remember his voice. He talked about a green sky but his words made no sense until now. I close my eyes, almost swooning as my body reacts to what my mind cannot grasp. His hands on my hips, lifting me. Shafts of pleasure slanting upwards and I shudder into the hard thrust of his passion, beg him to reach deeper. I recall how we cried out in that dense space and how the sultry tang of our spent passion perfumed the night.

All is silent in Mount Veronica. It’s time to sleep. Instead of fighting the waves that threaten to overwhelm me, I sail with them through the glittering floes.