by Kerena Swan
‘What the hell are you doing?’
Ellis releases me suddenly and I nearly overbalance. I steady myself only for Lucy to shove my shoulder with the flat of her hand, almost knocking me over again. Her eyes spit fire at me.
‘She threw herself at me,’ Ellis is saying. ‘I was trying to get her off.’
Lying bastard. ‘He’s—’
A ringing slap stings my cheek but I don’t feel much pain. The alcohol has dulled my senses.
‘How could you? Today of all days – and with my fiancé! You’ve always ruined whatever I have. I want nothing more to do with you.’ Lucy puts her face an inch from mine. ‘In fact, I disown you. You are no longer my sister.’
My cheeks are hot and not just from the slap. I stretch to my full height and look down at her. She hates that I’m taller. ‘I didn’t ask to be your bloody sister!’ I say, wobbling on my heels. ‘Anyway, you’re welcome to this piss drip of a man. If you can call him a man when he’s got no balls.’
I grin at my own joke until her small, bunched fist flies out and she punches me in the eye. I stagger backwards and fall hard on my bottom. Fuck. That did hurt. The alcohol isn’t strong enough this time to deaden the dual paths of pain shooting through my coccyx and eyeball. Tears spring to my eyes and through the blur I see Mum and Grace appear behind Lucy.
‘She was kissing Ellis!’ Lucy screams. ‘I want her out of my life.’
Chapter 15
The Previous February | Sarah
I’m glad I decided to volunteer here as it’s given me unlimited access to the library computers and internet, and all for free. I scan the national news websites for any mention of the incident in Scotland and am relieved that again there’s nothing. Maybe it isn’t newsworthy enough and I should stop worrying.
Yesterday I researched the DNA testing process and discovered that it takes around four weeks to get a result from the ancestry testing company. I can’t wait that long. I found a paternity test clinic instead and was delighted when I read they provide results within twenty-four hours.
I also rang the prison service and they said they’d facilitate a DNA test if I wrote to my father for consent and sent them the kit. I’m certain Dad will jump at the chance to find out once and for all whether Mum did have an affair, and whether I’m his daughter. If these tests had been invented years ago, I bet he’d have taken one then. Mum has refused to discuss the issue after she threw her glass at me, but I don’t care. I got the address myself in the end and there’s little for us to say to each other now.
I’m not sure how I’ll feel if I find out John Butcher isn’t related to me. Relief? Disappointment? Anger? Definitely anger – towards Mum for deceiving us both all these years. And how will John feel? I’m sure disappointment won’t be in the mix as he’s always hated the sight of me, but perhaps he’ll feel as angry towards Mum as I will. Perhaps he’ll feel vindicated too for murdering Colin Evans in a jealous rage. And maybe it wasn’t just jealousy but also fury because he thought Colin had foisted an unwanted child on him.
Back at the shelves with my trolley of books, I glance around the library to check Mark isn’t lurking somewhere, watching me. I don’t want to meet him again. I don’t want to see anyone who knows my past. Thankfully, the only visitors appear to be a grey-haired couple and a young mum and toddler. I pick up another book and study the cover. It’s a feel-good saga and shows a family on a sunny beach, arms casually slung around each other and laughter on their faces. A sudden pang of longing, so strong it hurts, makes me straighten my back and stare unseeing out of the window.
What must it feel like – that sense of belonging? To know that your family wants to spend time with you, to listen to your worries and fears, celebrate your achievements and look at you. Really look at you. My Dad – my non-Dad – couldn’t bear to make eye contact with me. Occasionally I’d catch him watching me but then his gaze would flick away. I realise now that he was probably studying me for signs of who I resembled. Puzzling why my hair was blonde and my skin pale when my parents had dark hair and skin that turned golden at the merest touch of sunshine.
I remember being at a friend’s house once and her dad had come in and ruffled her hair. Such a small gesture to her, but huge to me. I desperately wanted my dad to ruffle my hair so tenderly. If I’d been raised by Colin Evans I might have had a dad who loved, nurtured and protected me instead of treating me with cold contempt. I’ll be gutted if I discover he was my real father and I’ve been denied the chance ever to meet him.
The DNA test might even reveal other relatives, if they’re on the database, but will they want to see me? It’s all such a mess. I just want to find out who I am then move on with my life and start over. To find someone who will love me.
I look at the picture again and have the sudden urge to throw the book across the room. Instead, I put it down carefully and take a deep breath. I make my way to the farthest toilets to be alone because my thoughts are taking me to Robert. I’d believed he loved me. As I sit in a cubicle with my head in my hands I’m back in the log cabin in the Tay Forest. I’m tidying the kitchen from the meal I’d prepared the night before and Robert has wandered into one of the bedrooms to stare out of the window.
‘I could stand here and look at this view all day,’ he says. ‘It’s a shame we have to leave today.’
‘Why don’t we stay another night? I’m not back at work until Tuesday.’
‘We have to be out by noon as the next booking will arrive.’
‘Booking? Do you let the place out?’ I stand in the doorway, drying the kitchen knife with the brightly patterned tea towel.
‘No, I rented it off the owner for the week.’ He continues to gaze out of the window. I don’t understand. I thought he owned the lodge. He’s so familiar with the place. ‘But you’ve been here before?’
‘I’ve rented it with Victoria a couple of times.’
The mention of his wife’s name has tension squeezing my neck. ‘How could you bring me here, to a place you’ve visited with your wife?’ Jesus! What was he thinking? ‘I’m sure you told me you owned this place. What else have you lied about?’ Specifically, has he lied about his feelings for me?
Robert turns to look at me and I’m shocked at the cold expression on his face. ‘I can’t do it, Sarah. I’m sorry.’
‘Can’t do what?’ I ask, but I already know. My legs weaken, and it’s as though my body is a hollow vessel being filled with icy water.
He isn’t going to leave her. His promises and our plans of a bright future together are empty. I’m just his bit on the side. A quick shag. Nothing more. Now he’s tired of me and all my dreams of a happy family life will only ever be a fantasy. I hold the door frame for support, sucking breath into my lungs. How dare he discard me like this? How dare he?
‘I can’t leave her,’ he says. ‘She’s not well and needs me.’
‘Then why are we here?’ I try to keep my voice steady but I can feel pressure building inside me. He told me his future lay with me, not his wife.
‘I wanted one last week with you before I said goodbye.’
‘You told me you loved me. I thought we’d get married, have children. You can’t do this to me. I trusted you.’
‘Married? Whatever gave you that idea?’ His voice is mild. Innocent. But he can’t keep the curl from his lip. It tells me he’s never seriously considered settling down with me. I’m not good enough.
He’s no better than my father, making me feel worthless, unlovable. A piece of shit. I’ve tried so hard to please Robert but it’s all been for nothing.
He steps towards me. ‘We’ve had fun so no hard feelings, eh?’
‘No hard feelings? You’ve used me and lied to me.’
‘That’s a bit strong. You enjoyed the sex as much as I did. I never said we’d marry and have kids.’ He smiles and leans closer. ‘You’re a lovely girl, but I’ve decided I don’t want to live with you.’
Being together for the week must have chang
ed his mind. What a callous way to tell me, though. My heartbeat quickens, pumping the ice from my veins to replace it with fire. Fire that balls in my chest then erupts in a scream. ‘You bastard!’
‘We all know women love a bastard.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Maybe we could still have sex occasionally.’ He brushes his hand across my breast.
I push him away and point the knife at him.
‘Don’t touch me,’ I hiss.
‘What are you going to do? Stab me? You wouldn’t dare.’ He laughs in my face. Actually laughs at me, so when he reaches for me again, I jab the knife at him and nick his arm.
His reaction is swift and my head explodes with stars as his fist connects with full force on the bridge of my nose. I stagger back in disbelief. I thought Robert was different. I thought I’d found a decent man at last. He is just like my father.
Something shifts in my brain and now I’m lunging at him, thrusting, thrusting to silence his derision and ridicule. Thrusting until all I can see is the colour red.
Chapter 16
February | DI Paton
Cheryl held the sign up as people walked through from Arrivals. Paton scanned the faces as they approached, looking for a flicker of recognition at the name they were displaying. As the flow of people dwindled to a trickle he glanced about for a woman standing alone. Had they missed her?
‘Hello.’ A tall woman with long brown hair stopped in front of Cheryl. She was clutching a small leather holdall as though it was a security blanket and her soft brown eyes were wide with obvious dread. ‘I’m Victoria Nash.’ Her voice immediately conjured up images of ponies, private school and a charming detached house in the suburbs.
Paton extended his hand and gave her an encouraging smile as he introduced himself and Cheryl. ‘We’re very grateful to you for coming,’ he said. ‘How was your flight?’
She frowned as though she couldn’t remember how she got there. ‘It was fine,’ she said absently, looking around. Her eyes rested on a couple embracing each other in a warm welcome and she pressed her lips together as she turned away.
‘Do you need a drink or anything before we leave?’ Cheryl asked. ‘It’s a two-hour drive to Perth.’
‘Just the cloakroom,’ Mrs Nash said, and hurried across the concourse towards the sign for the Ladies’ toilet.
‘Wait for her,’ Paton advised Cheryl. ‘The poor woman looks distraught. I’ll get some drinks to take with us.’
Paton rushed over to a shop and bought bottles of fruit juice and water, then quickly phoned Wendy. He was relieved when she answered the phone. Her voice was flat and she sounded weary but at least she was up. She promised to keep an eye on Tommy and he thanked her, adding that he’d get home as early as possible. He rang his sister quickly to tell her she didn’t need to look after Tommy, after all.
Paton walked across to meet Cheryl, his heart a little lighter. He disliked having to ask his sister for help. She had her own busy life to deal with. Cheryl smiled at him and he was about to suggest she should go and look for Mrs Nash when the woman appeared with reddened eyes.
‘Sorry about that. I’m fine now. Shall we go?’
The heavy silence was like a fourth person in the car as they allowed Victoria Nash time to compose herself. Paton glanced at her occasionally in the mirror but she continued to stare out of the window. He’d asked Cheryl to come along as he knew she’d be good at managing the situation. She exuded warmth and empathy, encouraging people to open up about their feelings and worries. She’d even cajoled news about Wendy out of him. Cheryl was often the designated family liaison officer and it was surprising how much information she could glean from families of victims or missing persons. Paton waited for her to use her skills and knew she was biding her time.
‘This must be very distressing for you,’ she said eventually, turning in her seat to face Victoria.
‘I keep thinking it won’t be Robert but, if it isn’t, then where is he? I want an answer but not like this.’ Victoria shook her head and bit her lip.
‘When did you last see your husband?’ Cheryl asked.
‘I dropped him off at Leeds airport twelve days ago. He was only supposed to be gone a week. He called me when he arrived but the signal was dodgy.’
‘Did you speak to him every day?’
‘I didn’t hear much from him all week but that’s not unusual when he’s constantly in meetings. He’s not the chatty sort. I went to the airport to meet him as planned but he didn’t arrive. I waited for the next two flights from Munich, but he wasn’t on them either.’ Her voice snagged on the last four words.
‘Why did he go to Munich?’ Paton asked. He knew he should leave the informal interview to Cheryl, but he was intrigued.
‘Business. He’s a negotiator for acquisitions and mergers. He’d been working on this takeover for months.’
If this was a fictitious reason for leaving his wife to have an illicit week with a lover, then this man was clever and had gone to considerable lengths to build an alibi. Perhaps the body wasn’t Mr Nash after all.
Paton waited quietly at the back of the room. Cheryl sat down with Mrs Nash while the mortician explained that the person in the next room would be covered with a sheet up to his neck but his face and one hand would be visible. He’d also be pale. They rose together and Mrs Nash was shown into a small room where the body lay.
The mortician withdrew and Paton and Cheryl watched from the doorway as Mrs Nash took a tentative step forward. She stopped abruptly with a loud gasp and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. A low moan escaped her and her knees began to buckle. Cheryl rushed forward to support her by the elbow and waited a moment before speaking. ‘Mrs Nash. Is this your husband, Robert Nash?’
‘Yes,’ his wife whispered, taking his hand in hers. ‘Yes it is. Oh, God. He’s so cold!’
They left Victoria Nash alone with her husband’s body and withdrew to the waiting room. When she emerged she looked at them, her eyes puffy and rimmed with red. ‘I want to know everything,’ she said. ‘Where was he found? What happened to him? Did he suffer?’ Her voice broke and she sank into a chair with her head in her hands.
It wouldn’t do her any good to stay here. Paton needed to get her to her hotel. Cheryl would stay in an adjoining room for the night and offer support if needed. They’d agreed that she’d update him regularly with any new information and tell Mrs. Nash a little about where her husband was found without giving evidence away. He caught Cheryl’s attention and tilted his head. She understood and gently took Victoria Nash’s elbow to guide her from the seat.
Back at the station he called all team members who were in the building into a meeting. He couldn’t deny he was pleased when he heard that the SIO had been called away to attend the scene of a shooting involving drug gangs in Edinburgh. Paton enjoyed being in charge. The sky beyond the windows was beginning to fade into dusk as he talked and the fluorescent lighting hummed above them.
‘We have an ID for the victim. His name is Robert Nash and he lived at 1, Bishops Court, Leeds. He worked for Fusion Mergers UK as a negotiator and was supposed to be flying to Munich but came here instead.’ He looked around at his team as they waited expectantly for his direction, and felt a moment of satisfaction. ‘Mitchell, I want you to speak to his employer – find out what projects he was working on, who he met up with and what he liked for lunch. I want every detail.’
Mitchell nodded and scribbled notes on the pad in front of him.
‘Tony, I need you to contact Leeds airport. See what flight he took from Leeds – likely to be Glasgow or Edinburgh, but try Aberdeen as well – then we’ll check out CCTV to see what vehicle he got into. We’re getting closer. I can feel it in my bones.’
Chapter 17
The Following July | Jenna
‘Morning,’ I mumble as I shuffle into the kitchen and pick up the kettle. I look across the garden at the damp lawn and am reminded of the night of the party two weeks ago. I cringe inwardly every time I think about that k
iss with Ellis but it’s like a spot I can’t stop squeezing.
‘Afternoon, you mean.’ Mum frowns at my Piglet pyjamas then glances up at the huge kitchen clock. I follow her gaze. Ten past twelve.
‘You’re wasting your life lying in bed, Jenna. You should be up and doing something.’
I drag my thoughts back and spoon instant coffee into a mug, catching it on the edge and spilling a few granules on the worktop. ‘It’s Saturday, Mum, and I didn’t finish at the bar until after midnight. I needed to catch up on my sleep. Besides, I was up earlier to bring Merlin in from the field and give him his breakfast. I just went back to bed for a while.’ I know it’s better for him to graze out at night in the summer so he doesn’t get too hot but it’s a pain having to get up and put him back in his stable where it’s cooler in the shade.
‘I hope you’re going to clean up that mess you’re making.’ Mum frowns as too much milk slops into the mug, filling it to the brim.
I lean down and slurp a mouthful before picking the drink up and carrying it to the table. ‘I’ll wipe it up in a minute,’ I say as I perch on a chair and pull the local newspaper towards me. ‘Grace is in later. though, isn’t she? She’ll give the kitchen a thorough clean.’
‘That’s not the point. I’m not paying her to clear up after you. And we’re nearly out of milk, so you need to nip to the shops. What are your plans for the rest of the day?’
‘I’m taking Merlin out for a long hack in the woods around my usual route. I’ll fetch some milk when I get back. I can cook for you, if you like. I’m not working until seven tonight.’ Mum has been exhausted since the party and looks like she needs some calories in her.
‘I was thinking of inviting Lucy and Ellis for dinner,’ Mum says. ‘Tonight is their “Beans on Toast” night so they might appreciate a decent meal.’