She didn’t like that he was laughing at her. ‘What do you expect when you keep secrets from me?’ she scowled.
‘Secrets? What secrets?’ he fired back evenly.
‘The fight in Greece, the trip to Bournemouth, the striptease Kerry gave you, the fact that the police had your DNA on record … need I go on?’
He looked at her quizzically. ‘Just then you referred to the victim by her first name.’
‘And?’
‘And, it’s just a weird thing to do.’
‘Don’t change the subject, Ben. And there’s another secret we haven’t talked about – how long did you know Johnny had been beating Faye?’
The look of guilt in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
‘He told me he lashed out at her a few months ago. He was in shock when he told me. Said he’d never dreamed he’d ever be the type of guy to strike his wife and felt horrible afterwards. That’s why he suggested they go and see a marriage counsellor. It only happened that one time, as far as I know.’
‘Honestly? Because she told me it’s happened several times, and that he did it again on Sunday. Can you, hand on heart, say that he was with you guys all night in Bournemouth?’
‘You think Johnny killed that girl?’ He snorted with derision. ‘No way! I’ve known him for years.’
‘If you’d seen Faye’s face on Sunday, I don’t think you’d be saying that.’
‘I’m not condoning his behaviour. Abuse in a relationship is unacceptable, but the victim wasn’t beaten to death – she was stabbed. Multiple times from what I was told at interview. Besides, Johnny was with us all night.’
‘How can you be sure? What if he snuck off while you were tied to that lamppost?’
‘Dave told me he was with him all night.’
The maître d’ was looking over at their raised voices, but made no effort to interfere.
Alice leaned closer and whispered loudly. ‘I heard Dave on the phone telling someone he’d cajoled the rest of the group into telling the police a different version of events.’
Ben snorted again. ‘What? Now I know you’re winding me up.’
‘I’m serious, Ben. When you dropped me home after lunch yesterday he was still at our place, and he was acting suspiciously. He definitely said they’d lied to the police.’
He squeezed her hand tighter. ‘Babe, I know I didn’t lie to the police. Are you sure you know what you heard? Who was he talking to?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘So how do you know it was anything to do with what happened in Bournemouth?’
She couldn’t remember the exact words she’d overheard, but she was sure he’d mentioned Bournemouth. Hadn’t he? Or had she put words in his mouth based on her own assumptions?
She wanted to reply, to convince him she wasn’t putting two and two together and getting three, but the words wouldn’t form coherently in her mind.
‘Listen,’ Ben continued. ‘I realize you’ve been under a huge amount of stress. What with the wedding and all this other shit that’s come up since. I really think the two of us should go and book somewhere last minute and just fly out of here, put all this behind us.’
‘What about your passport?’
‘I told you, that’ll be back with me soon enough. My solicitor said she just had to complete the paperwork and then they’d drop it round. I think we should go to a travel agents as soon as we’ve finished our lunch. We’ll find somewhere tropical, all-inclusive, and then just relax. I know it won’t be Barbados, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still have a great time. You can choose the destination, and a swanky hotel. We could be sipping cocktails on a beach this time tomorrow. What do you say? I think it’s what we both need.’
She frowned at him. It sounded wonderful, and there was probably some truth in the idea that they should do whatever was necessary to put this nightmare behind them, but she couldn’t help feeling she’d be somehow abandoning Kerry and Finn.
‘Did you manage to get a refund from the insurance company?’ she asked.
He shook his head in disappointment. ‘They said that wrongful arrest isn’t covered within the terms and conditions of the policy. I told them that was bullshit as it wasn’t our fault we couldn’t fly on Sunday night, but they said even if the police wrote to them and explained that they’d made a mistake, it wouldn’t be enough. My solicitor reckons our best chance is petitioning the police to pay compensation to cover what we lost. There are no guarantees, but we’ll see.’
‘So how do you propose we pay for a last-minute break?’
‘We have savings, let’s just use them. We can save more in the future, but right now I want to take you away from all of this. I can see the stress and worry is affecting you and that needs to stop. Okay?’
She was about to reply when she spotted a pair of familiar eyes staring at them from the main door to the restaurant.
THIRTY-SEVEN
‘Babe?’ Ben repeated, as Alice continued to stare at the door over his shoulder. ‘Are we agreed then? We use our savings for the holiday?’
She looked to Ben and then back at Liam O’Neill, who was now opening the door and entering the small dining area. The maître d’ was nowhere in sight, enabling O’Neill to head straight for their table.
What was he doing here? Why now? She wasn’t worried about how Ben would react when O’Neill accused him of killing Kerry – he’d laugh it off – but she couldn’t be as convinced of his reaction to learning that Alice had met O’Neill twice before and not told him.
‘Ben? Ben Goodman?’ O’Neill said, loudly enough for Ben to turn and stare at him. ‘It is you,’ O’Neill continued enthusiastically. ‘You know, I thought it was. I saw through the window and I said to myself, I swear that person looks just like Ben Goodman.’
Ben’s cheeks flushed slightly as he tried to work out who O’Neill was. Alice hid her face behind a napkin, willing O’Neill to leave, but her efforts appeared to be in vain as he pulled over a chair from another table and promptly joined them.
‘How’ve you been?’ O’Neill continued, his voice filled with excited enthusiasm at this false reunion. ‘I bet you don’t remember me,’ he added, helping himself to one of the breadsticks in the middle of the table and taking a bite, crunching it loudly between his teeth, a huge grin plastered across his face.
What the hell kind of game was he playing? If he was just looking to get under Ben’s skin, then he was doing a great job of it.
Ben glanced at Alice and she was sure he could read her mind, but he didn’t react to the fear and anxiety in her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ben offered. ‘I’m pretty lousy at remembering faces. Where do we know each other from?’
O’Neill feigned embarrassment, also making eye contact with Alice. ‘Well this just got awkward!’ he erupted into laughter, playfully slapping Ben’s arm in the process.
Ben didn’t react, but Alice saw his fists instinctively clench.
‘Liam O’Neill,’ he said, showing no sign of any offence at Ben’s apparent lack of memory. ‘We went to school together. We were in Mr Ewing’s class.’
The statement was made so plainly that Alice couldn’t help but believe the words, but then, O’Neill had tricked her when they’d first met, pretending to be just another guest at the hotel. Something stirred in Ben’s eyes. A moment of recognition perhaps?
‘I think you’ve got me confused with someone else,’ Ben said apologetically.
‘No, I’m sure it’s you. Cattle Hill Secondary School, right? Come on, you must remember Mr Ewing? He had an out-of-control beard that resembled a bird’s nest. Remember? He wore socks and sandals and we used to refer to them as his Nike Air Jerusalems on account of his deep Catholic faith. He taught us Geography and Religious Studies.’
Alice knew that Ben had attended Cattle Hill Secondary School – he had told her as much. Was that sort of information public knowledge? It must have been for O’Neill to be using it now.
‘Come on, Ben,’ he continued. ‘You must remember! I was a lot smaller back then, skinny too. I had thick glasses and suffered with dandruff. You used to call me Snow Shoulders. Remember now?’
The flutter of recognition grew across Ben’s face. ‘That was you?’
‘A lot can change in twenty-five years,’ O’Neill acknowledged. ‘I wear contacts now; I discovered antidandruff shampoo at college, and two divorces later, my midriff has inflated. Otherwise it’s the same old me. You’ve hardly changed at all. Still got a thick head of hair – the fringe has probably receded a bit, but not as much as mine. You’re in pretty good shape too. And if that car of yours parked outside is anything to go by, you must be doing all right for yourself.’
‘I remember you now,’ Ben admitted. ‘I can’t believe you recognized me after all these years.’
O’Neill suddenly turned and stared at Alice. ‘And who’s this beautiful lady?’
‘This is my wife, Alice,’ Ben replied, as O’Neill held out his hand for Alice to shake.
Her cheeks were on fire as she reluctantly shook his hand.
‘Lovely to meet you, Alice,’ he said innocently. ‘What do you do for a living?’
She couldn’t believe he was maintaining this pretence. What was the point? He’d spoken so freely when they’d met at the pub yesterday, but maybe he didn’t have the bottle to repeat his accusations with Ben in earshot. What choice did she have but to play along? If she admitted she knew why he was really here, she’d be admitting to Ben that she’d kept the first encounters a secret.
‘I’m a teacher,’ she said between gritted teeth, hoping the maître d’ would return with their food imminently.
‘A teacher?’ O’Neill cooed. ‘Now that’s a profession to be proud of. The finest people in the world, teachers are,’ he said, patting Ben’s upper arm with the back of his hand. ‘Don’t you reckon, Ben? I mean where would any of us be without great teachers?’
Alice could tell Ben’s patience was wearing thin.
‘Here, Ben, do you remember that girl who joined our class for that one year? It must have been when we were fifteen or so. She was from France. Oh, what was her name …? Patricia? Paula? No, wait, it was Penny. That was it, wasn’t it, Ben?’
Ben nodded at the memory. ‘Penny Duncan. I dated her for a bit.’
O’Neill was staring into the distance, as if the memory was being projected onto the window. ‘That’s right. Oh I remember her. She was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I genuinely think I fell in love with her the first time she walked into class. I couldn’t believe it when I won the lead role opposite her in theatre class.’ He patted Ben’s arm again. ‘Here, do you remember what you did to me the night of the first show?’
Ben lowered his eyes. Was that shame? ‘That was years ago. We were just stupid kids.’
O’Neill was laughing hard at the memory, staring at Alice. ‘Ben, the little prankster, thought it would be hilarious to dose my milkshake with laxatives so when I went out on stage for my big scene with Penny I would shit my pants, and I almost did!’ He was laughing still, but there was anguish in the sound too. ‘The pain became so unbearable that I had to run from the stage. I only just made it to the toilet before my bowels erupted. The show continued with my surprise understudy stepping in at the last minute. It was lucky you knew all the words of my part, Ben, or I think they’d have had to cancel the show altogether. God knows how much you put in that milkshake, but I had to stay in hospital for three days until things were sorted. I missed the whole week of shows.’
Ben’s head was bowed even lower. ‘Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that.’
O’Neill waved away the apology. ‘Hey, don’t worry about it. We were just stupid kids, like you said. It’s all water under the bridge as far as I’m concerned. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like to kiss Penny, though. To be honest – and I can admit it now, because we’re all much older – the only reason I auditioned for the school play was because I knew the male and female leads would kiss. I came so close to my dream, only to then have it snatched away.’
‘If I’d known—’
‘If you’d known you’d have still done it,’ O’Neill interrupted, the laughter gone. ‘I don’t bear you any ill will. The thing is, Penny had that effect on us boys. She was so beautiful that we’d have done anything to be with her.’ He fixed Alice with a stare. ‘Some women just have that dynamic magnetism; we can’t be blamed for our actions.’
The maître d’ appeared at the table, carrying two plates of steaming food. He raised a confused eyebrow in O’Neill’s direction.
‘I’m so sorry,’ the reporter said, standing suddenly. ‘I’m interrupting your lunch, and that’s incredibly rude of me. I didn’t even ask if I could join you. Forgive my interruption.’
The maître d’ lowered the plates to the table.
‘I’ll be on my way,’ O’Neill said, patting Ben’s shoulder. ‘This was fun. We should arrange to meet and catch-up on old times sometime. There’s nothing more stimulating than a trip down memory lane. Wouldn’t you agree, Alice?’
She started at the mention of her name, and as she looked up from her food she saw that both men were staring at her, reading her reaction. ‘Sometimes, but some things are better left buried in the past.’
O’Neill fixed her with a knowing look, mouthing the words, ‘Call me,’ before turning on his heel and heading out of the door.
‘Sorry about that,’ Ben said, as he reached for the salt and pepper and ground them liberally over his venison.
‘It’s a small world,’ Alice replied nonchalantly, eager to move the conversation on.
‘You’re probably not surprised to hear I was a bit of a shit back at school,’ Ben admitted, tearing into the meat. ‘I wasn’t the brightest student and I think on some subconscious level I was jealous of boys like Liam, for whom subjects seemed to come so easy. I worked damned hard to get my B and C grades at GCSE, whereas someone like him swept the board with A grades. I think I did things out of spite – things I’m not proud of.’
‘Like putting laxatives in a milkshake?’
He chuckled at the memory. ‘You should have seen his face when he wandered out onto the stage. He looked in agony and was desperate to carry on with the scene, but then he doubled over and raced away. I was already in costume, and took his place. For years he was referred to as the kid who shat himself on stage. The thing is, nobody knew what had really happened; I think the teachers assumed he got struck with stage fright. It was a stupid thing to do, and looking back on it, I wish I hadn’t done it. You do believe me, don’t you?’
She’d never seen him look so ashamed about anything. The fact that O’Neill had revealed this mischief from Ben’s past left her with only one thought – the real reason O’Neill had been trying to drive a wedge between her and Ben was out of revenge for childhood trauma.
‘You called him Snow Shoulders?’
‘That was just banter. Liam was one of those Goody-Two-Shoes characters. You know? The ones who suck up to all the teachers.’
Alice knew only too well. ‘I was one of those students, Ben. I worked so hard at school, and dreaded the prospect of getting into trouble. I knew lots of kids like you: people who called me names, and put me down out of jealousy. There were nights I would cry myself to sleep because of something someone else had said. It wasn’t easy being good all the time, and it was really tough when others made fun of me because of it.’
Her eyes stung at the memories.
Ben reached for her hand and squeezed it affectionately. ‘Then on behalf of all the bullies, I would like to formally apologize to you. If I’d known the impact of my actions, I would have revised my attitude.’
She knew in that moment that he meant every word.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Alice noticed the envelope first.
As they approached the front gate, Ben’s view was obstructed by the overhanging hedge, but she knew he’d seen it
as soon as the car slowed.
‘You’ve got to me fricking kidding me,’ he growled as he slowed to a stop, applied the handbrake and leapt from the car, tearing the white envelope from the gate’s locking mechanism.
He stared at it for several moments, as if trying to read the contents without opening it. Slowly his eyes rose, first looking left, and then right, hoping to catch a glimpse of the person who had deposited it there. The road was empty, save for two cars going in opposite directions.
‘Take this,’ Ben scowled, throwing the envelope onto her lap as he returned to the car.
He pressed the remote and the gates slowly slid open – Alice noticed remains of the tape strands clinging to the gate’s iron bars as they drove onwards.
Ben parked up outside the garage and snatched the envelope from her lap as he pushed open his door and headed for the house, leaving Alice scanning the property’s perimeter for the pair of eyes she instinctively felt watching her.
Whoever it was, they were hidden from view and wouldn’t emerge until long after she’d gone inside. She wanted to yell and scream, to tell him to leave them alone. They’d done nothing wrong, they didn’t deserve this kind of harassment.
‘You coming in?’ Ben asked.
Overhead, thick grey clouds were blocking out the sun’s rays, but they were doing nothing to fight the thick humidity as the high pressure once again threatened a storm. Alice couldn’t help but think that a downpour was exactly what was needed right now: fresh rain to rejuvenate the brown, dry lawns; lower pressure to cool everyone’s temperatures.
Ben was already tearing at the envelope as she reached the kitchen. He probably should have left it for the police to search for prints and DNA, and his impatience was causing one of the pages’ corners to tear slightly. She watched as he read the note, his face darkening with every word, and when he looked up to meet her gaze his eyes were shining.
‘What is it?’ she asked. ‘What does it say?’
He was speechless as the page fell from his fingers and floated silently to the floor. Screwing up the sticky envelope, he slammed it into the bin and stomped from the room.
Till Death Do Us Part Page 18