by Anita Waller
He stared down at the mess for a moment, and then moved towards the broom cupboard. Without speaking he began to sweep up the shards then he tipped them into the waste bin.
Amy stared angrily at him and turned to go upstairs.
He reached for another mug, and made himself the promised cup of tea. His hand shook with the force of his fury, but his mind kept counting to ten over and over again. His mum said it worked and so it must do - but he still wanted to smash her beautiful face.
It was only when he sat down at the kitchen table that he heard the sounds from overhead. It sounded like furniture being moved, and he waited.
She came back downstairs as he was rinsing out the mug. He turned to look at her as she stood framed in the kitchen doorway. Her face was a mask of pure venom. She was distraught about something, so angry that she could hardly speak.
‘I’ll check the cottage in future,’ she hissed.
‘And I’ll follow my instructions and do it too,’ he said quietly, ‘so it should be pretty safe, don’t you think?’
She stared back at him.
‘You’ll pay for this,’ she snarled and backed out into the hall.
‘And don’t worry,’ he called after her, a smile on his face when he realised he had scored points, ‘I’ll replace the mug you broke.’
He heard the front door slam, and then her car engine churn into life. Pulling the gingham kitchen curtain to one side he watched her departure, wheels squealing as she let out the clutch too fast.
‘Sod off,’ he said to himself, and then went quickly upstairs to see if he could find out just what she had been doing.
He went into Lauren’s room first – the noises indicated that was where she had been.
The furniture had been moved so that she could pull back the carpet. It was now lying loose on the grippers.
He fixed the carpet firmly into position, as tight as it had been before. If she tried to pull it back, she would know that he knew what she had been up to – further points scored.
Much as she had loved her holiday, Brenda was glad to be returning to normality. She had enjoyed the big city shopping that Sheffield had offered, had revelled in the beauty of the Derbyshire countryside, and had taken a real liking to Ken’s family, small though it was.
But she missed Cornwall, missed her life on the smallholding and missed running their business.
Now they were almost home, and she snuggled into her seat with a small sigh of contentment.
Ken knew what she was thinking. He reached across to squeeze her hand.
‘It’s home to me as well, now,’ he said. ‘I always thought of Yorkshire as my home but it isn’t. It’s Cornwall, and I can’t wait to get back. My leg feels great, I feel great, and it’s a new growing season. What more could we want?’
‘What more indeed,’ Brenda said smiling at him in the darkness.
Thirty more minutes and they would be at Stonebrook, the warmth of the new central heating system welcoming them home. She hoped Malcolm had remembered their instructions about switching it on. Dear Malcolm, what a gentle lad, a treasure. She knew there would have been no hiccups – not with him to look after things.
43
They had decided shortly after Josh’s fourth birthday to find a new home for Dawn and her son, somewhere not too close to schools that Lauren, Pilot, Bryony, Daniel or Rhys, Pat’s youngest child, would attend.
Both John and Dawn knew with a degree of fatality that one day their relationship would become public knowledge.
So now she and Josh lived in Delabole, a few miles further up the coast. They enjoyed a large cottage with a glorious garden that gave her pleasure in tending.
At eleven years of age – eleven going on twelve he insisted, Josh was tall, muscular, and as blonde as ever.
He never queried his mother’s strange relationship with his father. Dawn had explained some years earlier that John was his daddy, but it wasn’t possible for him to live with them. He had accepted that with equanimity.
He looked forward to John’s visits, but John sometimes felt that it wouldn’t really matter to Josh if he never saw him again – he was his mother’s child. Understandably.
Lauren too had grown up remarkably well under the influence of her grandparents but it grieved John that Amy had so little to do with her; he knew it wasn't the fault of his child.
Thirty two years after her rape, the hauntingly beautiful thirty eight year old Amy had never recovered; it seemed the scars would remain forever.
She persisted in keeping the entire world at arm’s length, and John knew that she waited for Treverick’s reappearance in her life.
Lauren had been six years old when John had written her a story about a lizard, an iguana named Iggy. She had demanded more and eventually there had been fifteen of them. Iggy was a prolific adventurer, never went anywhere without his pure silk ties which his front feet frequently ripped to shreds; it was only when he was putting the latest one into the ring-binder that he realized he had just written his first children’s book.
‘Do you know I took three thousand pounds worth of orders in an hour today?’
John laughed and handed her a sherry.
‘You shouldn’t be so damned good. Have you finished the coat stand yet?’
‘Not quite. It’s taken a bit longer getting the right flowers. I had to use all the blue ones because of Brian’s colour scheme, but another week and it should be ready.’
‘You get on okay with Brian, don’t you?’
‘If I didn’t he wouldn’t still be on the open door list after all this time. I consider him to be a good friend – don’t you?’ She raised her eyes to meet his and sipped at the sherry.
‘A very good friend. It’s just that you don’t make friends easily – you never cease to surprise me, Amy’
‘Even after all these years?’
He bent to kiss her and she turned slightly so that his lips brushed her cheek.
‘I’ve got something to show you,’ he said and handed her the file of short stories.
‘Carol says dinner will be at eight o’clock, so you’ve time for a quick scan through them.’
She pulled her legs up underneath her and opened the folder.
There was absolute silence for almost an hour. John felt uncomfortable watching her, sure that she hated them. Her reading wasn’t accompanied by a smile, never mind the great guffaws of laughter that had come from Mark.
Suddenly she closed the folder.
‘Short stories,’ she said.
‘Brian said…’
‘And has Brian said anything about my stories? The stories that I wrote, that were personal, that were for my eyes only? I know you’ve seen them John – and probably Brenda, Ken and Freda too. Tell me – have you shown them to Brian?’ Her voice rose hysterically as she hurled accusations at him.
‘Amy –‘
‘Don’t bother to deny anything, John. Your face says it all. Is that why Lauren spends most of her time at Stonebrook? So that my twisted and warped mind won’t influence her?’
‘You know that’s not true, it’s because you’re so busy at Optimum –‘ The words sounded false and banal.
‘So where are they?’
‘In the loft. Slightly charred.’ He’d never felt so miserable in all his life. ‘I tried to burn them, but I couldn’t.’
‘I want them.’
‘How did you know? I don’t understand.’
‘I went to get them when Ken and Brenda took Lauren to Yorkshire. I took up the carpet, and they’d gone.’ Her tone was icy. ‘I think I’ve waited long enough to have my property returned to me.’ She threw the folder containing the Iggy stories on to the floor. ‘And as far as they’re concerned, the stories just about match your mental age.’
He avoided looking at her, her anger marring the perfection of her beauty.
‘They don’t match up to the quality of yours, that’s for sure. I’m not patronizing you. Your writing is excellent �
� it’s the content that bothered me… us. We worry about you, Amy, can’t you see that?’
‘No, I can’t. You seem incapable of accepting the fact that He is always with me in here.‘ She tapped her head. ‘And one day he’ll be back. Not just for me, but for Lauren as well.’
‘No!’ He reached for her to stem the distress.
‘Get away from me. And I want those stories returned – now.’
The next day twin beds arrived at the cottage and John understood that his marriage had finally crumbled.
44
Iggy Iguana had been an instant and huge success, and now, some eight years on, long after Lauren had outgrown the stories, the BBC were negotiating with David.
John wished he could tell Josh, but both he and Dawn knew it wasn’t possible, not yet. As far as Josh was concerned, his father was a salesman.
He walked towards the door, rubbing at his chest and promised himself that he would cut down on coffee; just lately it seemed that every time he had a cup, it gave him heartburn. He tried the door before hunting for his key, but he wasn’t really surprised that it was locked. His was the only car parked on the drive.
What did surprise him was a note propped on the work surface in the kitchen.
Gone to an auction this evening in Bristol. Staying overnight at Grand if you need to contact me. Back tomorrow midday. Amy
He read the note twice, still rubbing his chest, and then went in search of some Rennies. He rang Dawn and told her he was coming to spend the night.
‘Why?’
‘What do you mean why? Don’t you want me to stay the night?’
‘You know I do, but how come?’
‘Amy’s away overnight in Bristol, and Lauren’s staying with Ken and Brenda for the night.’
‘And guess what Josh is doing?’
‘What?’
‘Staying at Michael Palmer’s. They’re watching a video tonight. I dread to think what, in view of their reading tastes.’
‘I’ll be there in an hour. Just going to have some milk. Touch of heartburn.’
‘Shall I cook, or shall we have a salad?’
‘The way I feel right now I don’t want anything. God, I hate being middle-aged. See you soon.’ He replaced the receiver, bit into the tablet and then pulled a face at the chalky taste.
By the time he reached Dawn’s cottage, he felt much better. He parked the BMW round the back and tried to make-believe he was really coming home to his loved one and not just playing at it.
It almost worked.
‘I can hardly believe this is happening.’
John stroked her left breast and kissed her. ‘Does that convince you?’
Dawn laughed. ‘Idiot. You know what I mean. In the last fifteen years I think we must have spent all of ten nights together.’ She reached across to the bedside table for her glass of champagne. ‘Tell you what, John, I could get used to it.’ She raised her glass. ‘And to this.’
‘If you say so, it can be changed. I’ll leave Amy…’
‘No! Look, we’ve been over and over this. I don’t want you to leave her. Lauren is far too important to you. Josh has grown up having one and a half parents, Lauren has always had two.’
‘Why are we discussing this?’ He nibbled gently at her ear. ‘We should be making love.’
‘Again?’ She laughed softly. ‘I’m so glad I met you John.’ She took another sip of the champagne. ‘And this, and the bouquet of flowers, was a lovely touch. Quite the romantic, aren’t you?’
He smiled at her. ‘We try, we try. Any Rennies in that drawer?’
‘Oh, very romantic.’ She pulled open the drawer and handed him a pack.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine. It’s either the pizza I had at lunchtime, or too many cups of coffee.’
‘I can think of a cure.’
‘Can you?’
‘Mmmm.’ She kissed his neck, and ran her fingers down his chest.
‘You’re curing me, you’re curing me. Just don’t stop, Doctor Lynch. Bugger the Hippocratic Oath.’ Then he rolled onto his side. ‘I love you,’ he breathed, and stroked her breast again.
Sighing, she gave in to feelings he aroused in her, and opened her legs. His hands began to stroke her inner thighs, and his kiss deepened, each exploring the other’s mouth with their tongues.
John broke away from the kiss to pull the sheet away from Dawn.
‘I love to look at you.’ He bent his head, and his tongue began to travel the length of her body.
She moved on to her back.
‘Take me,’ she whispered.
He moved on top and began to enter her. Sliding her arms around his buttocks, she pulled him firmly in.
Suddenly he fell on to her, and gasped.
‘John? John?’
Moaning, he clutched at the centre of his chest.
‘Dawn. Something wrong…’ He rolled to one side, his face grey with pain. She stretched an arm out to touch him and realised there was nothing she could do. He needed professional help, and he needed it fast.
She reached across for the telephone, struggling to pull her legs from underneath him. He was only forty-two; he couldn’t be having a heart attack. There had been no earlier indications. Then she remembered the heartburn that he had blamed on the pizza and coffee.
She glanced across at him as she dialled the emergency services, seeing the tell-tale signs of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were beginning to roll and he was struggling to hold on to his arm.
‘Here, let me rub it for you,’ she offered, knowing his left arm was hurting badly.
She was hardly dressed by the time the ambulance arrived and she followed in her car, running a comb through her hair as she pulled onto the main road.
Driving to the hospital she daren’t let her mind dwell on possible complications. The paramedics had stabilized him. He had looked dreadful, his colour non-existent.
She knew she was travelling too close to the ambulance but she didn’t want to be more than a few feet from the vehicle carrying him.
When they arrived at the hospital, she was taken to a small room and told someone would be in to talk to her as soon as they knew anything.
It was three o’clock in the morning before someone said he would live. ‘It was a bad attack, Mrs Thornton, and he’ll be in hospital for some time. He’s sleeping now so why don’t you go home and get some rest yourself. You look worn out.’
Dawn didn’t try to stop the tears of relief.
‘I’m not Mrs Thornton. I’m Mrs Lynch. Tomorrow Mrs Thornton will be here and she must not know about me. I’m not going home until I’ve sorted something out.’ Dawn dried her eyes. ‘Have you ever heard of a novelist, an author by the name of John Thornton?’
The sister’s eyes widened.
‘You mean…?’
‘Exactly. If the press pick up on this… we’ve managed to avoid scandal for fifteen years. We have a child, so please forget I was ever here. I’m going to ring a friend who I’m sure will say John was with him when he had the heart attack.’ She sounded calmer than she felt.
‘Would you like to see him?’
‘Thanks. It could be some time before I see him again.’
‘What time is it?’
Pat peered at the bedside clock. She had to look twice, blinking to focus her eyes. ‘Phone’s ringing,’ she said. ‘3.18 am.’
‘Are you answering it?’
‘No,’ she said and pulled the sheet over her head.
He reached out for the receiver.
‘David?’ Is that you?’
‘Dawn?’
‘Yes – listen. I’m at the hospital. It’s John, he’s in intensive care. He’s had a heart attack.’
David sat up in bed, now fully awake. Pat was already getting out of the other side. Hearing Dawn’s name, she knew that something was wrong.
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes. And don’t worry, we’ll sort it out.’
He put down the receive
r and looked across at Pat.
‘Where’s Amy?’
‘I don’t know. What’s wrong?’
‘John’s had a heart attack, a bad one, and for some reason he was with Dawn. Look, you go back to bed and I’ll go and see what’s happened. I don’t understand why he was with Dawn – we’ll probably have to alibi him. How does that grab you?’
‘You know it doesn’t, but we’ll do what’s necessary. It’s difficult liking both Amy and Dawn. But go on; see if you can help poor Dawn. She must be nearly out of her mind.’
He nodded, struggling into jeans.
‘She sounded it.’
Kissing Pat, he left the house and headed for the hospital, his thoughts in turmoil.
How could someone as young as John have a heart attack? It made him question his own mortality – they had been born within a month of each other.
Dawn came straight into his arms and he held her.
‘Dawn, look at me.’ She raised tearful eyes. ‘Where’s Amy?’
‘As far as I can remember, she’s in Bristol. She’s staying overnight but I don’t know where. I am pretty sure she’s coming home tomorrow, though. David, he was with me – in bed.’
‘I’m not going to make any corny remarks, don’t worry. So what do you want me to do? Say he came over to us for a drink and had the attack at our place?’
She nodded. ‘Amy will have enough on her plate, without finding out John’s had a mistress for most of their married life.’
‘And what about Lauren? Do you know where she is?’
‘Brenda and Ken’s. My God, I never even gave her a thought! And Josh…complicated, isn’t it?’ She gave a watery smile. ‘The awful thing is, David, when I leave here tonight I don’t know when I’ll see him again.’
‘We’ll find a way,’ he promised. ‘Have you been in to see him?’
‘Yes, he looks a lot better than he did a few hours ago.’
‘Right – I suggest you go home now. I’m going to ring Brenda and she can make the decision how and when to tell Lauren. But it’s likely that they’ll come straight here. Have you got your car?’