by ML Rose
She was on a fast track to become partner, which meant she would become a multimillionaire before the age of forty. Karen had always looked upon Rebecca’s media career choice as frivolous.
In school, Rebecca had always played second fiddle to Karen, who was better at academics, sports, and looks. Rebecca was definitely a late bloomer, but when she did come of age, she eclipsed Karen with her beauty. That caused plenty of sibling rivalry, but luckily Karen left to study law at Oxford shortly after.
Karen was married to another corporate lawyer, one as successful as she was, and they had two baby boys. Everything about Karen was perfect, and she liked to make sure her little sister knew all about it.
Rebecca felt that the only thing her sister liked about her was her choice of a husband. Jeremy ticked all the right boxes for Karen, and sometimes Rebecca thought Karen was nicer to her husband than to herself.
Christine went to open the front door and returned with Karen. Rebecca noted her sister was perfectly dressed for the occasion, in a black silk blouse, black cardigan, long black skirt, and black shoes with heels. Even her Chanel handbag, which must have cost thousands, was black. She was on her own and walked forward rapidly as Rebecca rose.
“Oh, darling. Come here,” Karen whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. Can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
Yes, Rebecca thought in silence. I bet you can’t. You never even came to see Reggie after he was born. Too busy on a big deal, apparently.
Rebecca stared at her sister as Karen turned her back and greeted Jeremy with a hug as well.
Karen sat down next to her sister. Her expensive perfume stung Rebecca’s nostrils and made her want to vomit. “What have the police said?” Karen asked.
Rebecca shrugged. “Nothing.”
“I can’t believe this. I mean, you have cameras outside, right? Yes, I know you do. Did they not pick anything up?”
Karen’s default mechanism of coping was to talk excessively. It was beginning to irritate Rebecca, and she knew that if Karen continued she would end up saying something she regretted. Luckily, Jeremy came to the rescue.
“Our Wi-Fi was jammed, and the CCTV cameras are run off the Wi-Fi. Hence, we have no photos of the intruder.”
“How bizarre.” Karen shook her head. “But I guess it doesn’t matter right now.” Remorse tinged her tone for the first time as she stared down at her perfectly manicured and polished nails.
Rebecca glanced at her sister. Karen did look sad, but as always with her sister, Rebecca suspected it was all an act. Karen never had the spontaneous warmth her parents possessed. She looked at Karen’s dry eyes, then her gleaming black heeled shoes which screamed designer, and she felt nauseated. She rose swiftly and headed out of the room.
She went into the kitchen and filled up a glass at the water machine on the fridge. Christine appeared next to her.
“I think you should stay with us for a few days, darling. It’s going to help. We can go for walks. Jeremy can come and visit, but of course, he’s welcome to stay as well. A change will do the both of you some good.”
“Thank you, Mum, but it’s not necessary. I’d rather be at home.”
“At least consider it. The housekeeper will look after the place. I can ask Aunt Grace to come down and visit as well.” Grace was Christine’s sister and, like Christine, had also been a TV actress. Both sisters had groomed Rebecca to follow in their footsteps. Rebecca hadn’t seen her Aunt Grace for many years.
Rebecca frowned and spread her hands.
“Mum, you just don’t get it, do you? I have nothing to say to Aunt Grace, or to you. You’ve not been through something like this, so I can’t make you understand.”
Christine’s head dropped on her chest and she tightened her folded arms, as if she was trying to hold herself.
“Oh, Becky, I know. Believe me, I know.”
Rebecca felt herself stranded in that bubble again, a void without compassion or sympathy, a world without noise or colour, white as a blank wall. The dizziness was back in her head, humming around her mind like a swarm of bees circling her skull. She just wanted to lie down and sleep. She had to come and see her parents, but now she was beginning to feel it was a mistake. She wanted to return home.
She turned abruptly and headed back into the living room. It was empty. She went upstairs; the first room on the right was her old room. It had been converted into a nursery for Reggie. The new, blue-coloured walls were like a slap in the face to her. She reeled back, snapping her eyes shut.
She heard voices behind her. Her ears pricked up as she recognised Karen’s. She was saying something in an urgent voice, but it was too low to be heard. Rebecca crept forward till she came to Karen’s old room. The door was ajar and she pressed her ear against it. She heard a man’s muffled voice from inside.
“I’ve tried telling her, but she won’t listen.”
Karen said, “Give her some space. Now is not the best time.”
Rebecca’s heart thudded painfully against the ribs, a booming sound that vibrated against the eardrums. Her throat felt parched and dry. Her hands became fists by her side.
Jeremy said, “I don’t know what to do.”
“Oh, Jeremy,” Karen said, her fake voice sounding genuine for once.
She had heard enough. She opened the door and slipped inside. Karen turned to face her. Jeremy was standing in front of the bed and from the sudden shock on his face, she thought the worst.
“What’s going on?” Rebecca hissed. The buzzing between her ears was louder now, drilling into the front of her head.
Karen inclined her head and a carefully crafted look of compassion appeared on her face. “Jeremy was just telling me how much you’re suffering, Becky. I think you should see a doctor.”
“I am seeing a doctor.” Rebecca bit the words out, desperately trying to stop saying something she would regret later. “I’m coping and I’m fine. I don’t need anyone’s help, including yours, Karen.” She was snarling now, and breathing rapidly, but she didn’t care.
She turned on Jeremy. “When you’ve finished your nice chitchat with my sister, you can drive me back to the house. I’ll be waiting downstairs.” Jeremy called after her, but Rebecca turned and left, slamming the door shut.
Rebecca went downstairs but she didn’t wait for Jeremy. She stormed into the kitchen, where her mother looked up from the sink as she rushed past. Rebecca ignored her. She slipped on her coat. In the back porch, she put on her Wellington boots and then opened the garden door. In the distance, she could see the barn.
When she was young her father had converted the rear of the barn into a play area for her, as they had no animals. It had become Rebecca’s refuge during her teenage years. Frost crunched beneath her boots as she walked. Her head was bent low, hands thrust into coat pockets, tightly clenched. She inhaled the smell of damp, frosty earth. The barn door had the latch on, and after some effort, with a gloved hand she managed to release it.
The tall, heavy door was impossible to open fully, but a sliver was enough for her to slip through. The smell of mildewed old haystacks hit her nose, a comforting odour. It brought to mind the endless hours she had spent in the barn, playing on her own. She switched the light on.
The front area was used to stack their timber, for which her dad had a log-splitting machine. Judging by the number of logs stacked in the corners, she thought her dad must have a farmhand to help. She felt guilty for not coming more often. One day, when her parents were gone, this farm would be left to her and Karen.
Rebecca traversed the floor and went through the small archway that led to her play area. She came here as a teenager all the time. Sensibly, she never brought any boys back, because she knew what would happen if her parents found out. She would lose her private sanctum, where she could hide, secluded from the world.
She clicked the door shut. The tall ceiling was crisscrossed with wooden beams. Cobwebs hung from them now, and she felt sad when she remembered how often she’d
cleaned the place when she was younger. There was only one window, so high up that she had to use a prong to open it.
That let some light in, but there was electricity as well. There was a bed in one corner, surrounded by shelves with books, CDs, and DVDs. She could sit on the sofa and watch TV, listen to music, and read her books. She patted the sofa, and retreated when a cloud of dust rose from it.
She looked around the place. There was a double bed in the corner opposite to the TV and sofas. There was also a wardrobe behind the bed, and next to it, covered by the horizontal stacks of wood that made up the wall, was a hidden door. Rebecca smiled. The door was used for sheep and goats to come in when this area was used as a holding pen, many centuries ago. She had implored her dad to let her keep the small door, because it was cute, and she liked using it.
She pulled up the wooden panel and it opened easily, revealing the waist-high door. There was a latch on it, and she slid it back. It was rusty now and it hurt her fingers. The door creaked open, letting in the freezing cold. She snapped it shut and stood.
It was cold and inhospitable now, but as she looked at the bed, happy memories of the time when she just lay here, reading all day, came back to her mind. She wished life could be that simple again. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cold logs as the buzzing in her head circulated again, like a gang of motorbikes rotating around her skull. Her vision shook. She hadn’t taken the iron tablets this morning. She slid down the wall and ended up on the floor, knees pulled up to her chest, head buried in her hands.
*****
The drive back to Clapham was filled with the same frigid silence as last time. Jeremy tried to break the ice, but Rebecca told him to shut up. As soon as the car came to a stop, she got out, ignoring what Jeremy was telling her. She slammed the door shut and rang the doorbell, wishing she had brought her keys with her.
Jeremy watched her go into the house, shaking his head. He leaned back on the seat and sighed. He was just trying to tell his wife that he would be going to the post office to drop some mail off. He reversed the car and started to drive.
He couldn’t believe what Rebecca had just done. Karen was genuinely concerned about her sister, as she should be. And Becky had just flown off the handle, practically accusing them of speaking behind her back. Well, they were, but only because they were concerned about Becky’s behaviour. Jeremy wound the window down to get some fresh air.
There was a smell of gas inside the car, one he hadn’t come across before. He sniffed a couple of times as he pressed on the accelerator, and noted the smell was stronger. The sudden, loud bang, like a massive firecracker, took him by surprise. It came from the rear of the car. The back windscreen dissolved in a shower of glass fragments and the car fishtailed out, swerving all over the road. Cold wind blew inside, and when Jeremy looked at the rear-view mirror, he gaped in fear and astonishment.
The entire back door had been blown off and was hanging to the left. Smoke rose in acrid black fumes from the rear seats and it took him a few seconds to understand the car was on fire. He screeched to a halt. Cars were stopping all around him. He stumbled out, then fell on the tarmac. Flames licked the side of the car, rising higher. Fear clutched Jeremy’s heart as he stared, spellbound.
“Get back, it’s going to blow!” a voice shouted. Jeremy stood, but then slipped on the icy road. A pair of hands gripped and then pulled him farther away. He stood at a distance, watching the yellow and orange flames lick higher over the charred remains of his car. In the distance, he could hear the police sirens.
CHAPTER 32
Arla looked out the window as Harry drove the BMW off the turning on the A3. Open green farmlands stretched out on both sides. A pair of horses were nibbling at the remnants of grass on the frosty ground. It was a bucolic scene, despite the harshness of winter. In less than an hour, Arla mused, they had moved from the concrete jungles of south London, into this green and pleasant land.
“Enjoying the scenery?” Harry asked. He had shaved, his coffee brown cheeks again smooth as a pebble on the beach. His black hair was swept back with gel and the sharp, well-pressed suit was back on his shoulders. They were going to see Rebecca’s parents, and Harry had clearly dressed for the occasion. She liked it, but would never admit that to him. Harry got a big head in the blink of an eye. Typical man.
“Funny how the scenery changes so quickly,” Arla said. Most of her life had been spent in the melting pot of the city and she often forgot how peaceful it could be in the English countryside. The baby bumps of gentle sloping hills and the crisscrossed hedges that separated the farms were simple and plain, small and contained. But small was also beautiful. And it was precisely this contained nature of the English countryside that appealed to her so much. Order, symmetry, and peace.
There was a loud beeping sound from the dashboard. It was Harry’s radio. There goes the peace, Arla thought to herself with a smirk.
Harry pressed a button on the steering wheel and the radio came to life.
“Duty controller one speaking. Is that Foxtrot Alpha Sierra?” Foxtrot Alpha Sierra was the codename for the unmarked CID BMW car. Harry cleared his throat.
“Yes, it is, controller one.” Harry referred to the switchboard operator by her official name. “This is DI Mehta speaking.”
“Hello sir. I was informed to call you by Detective Sergeant Roslyn May. Jeremy Stone has been in an RTA.” RTA was road traffic accident in common parlance.
Arla leaned forward. “Is he okay?”
“He is alive, ma’am. Would you like to know the location?”
“Yes please.”
Arla thanked the duty controller and raised her hand when Harry indicated left at a roundabout. “Turn the car around. We’re going back.”
Harry made a noise in his throat. “The family are waiting for us.”
“They’ll have to wait for longer. I want to be at the site of this RTA.”
Harry puffed out his cheeks, but did as he was told. He sped up, too, and when they hit the traffic of the A3 he turned on the siren, at Arla’s request.
“Is this necessary?” Harry asked. His fists were bunched on the steering wheel and he was leaning forward, dodging in and out between cars.
Arla suppressed a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying it.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
She leaned back in her seat as the traffic cleared and Harry cruised on an open stretch of road. He cut the siren.
She said, “After I saw that Instagram user harassing Rebecca, I had a feeling someone was out to get this family. Not sure if that person is the intruder as well, but it might well fit.”
“She wouldn’t be the first celebrity who attracted a stalker.”
“I know. But if you consider the events of the last two days, I’m starting to wonder if there’s someone who bears a grudge against Jeremy and Rebecca.”
It didn’t take them long to get to the destination, with Harry using the siren and accelerator judiciously. Arla saw the flashing blue lights and the uniformed officers’ squad cars parked on the side of the road before she saw the burnt-out, blackened heap of the vehicle. Rob Pickering hurried up to her as she got out. His bulbous, rosy cheeks were shining with sweat. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, lifting his hand up in greeting.
“What happened?” Arla asked as she got out of the car slowly. She folded her arms across her chest, instantly feeling the cold.
“Looks like an explosion in the rear of the car. Luckily the fuselage didn’t ignite, but it could easily have done so. A member of the public used a fire extinguisher from his car.”
Arla looked at the remains of the vehicle. The front half of the car was fine. The side and rear had twisted in the heat, bodywork buckled. But the rear door and axle had disappeared almost completely, blown out by an explosion.
Harry said, “If this was a fault with the engine, it’s normally the front of the car that’s affected.”
Yes,” Rob said an
d waved towards a tall man in a uniform. “This is Inspector Stevens of the Traffic Police Unit.”
Inspectors Stevens shook their hands. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the burnt vehicle. “Something had to be attached to the rear exhaust pipe. There’s nothing in that section of the car that would’ve caused this big explosion. Any gas leaks would have happened near the front.”
Arla frowned. “Are you suggesting an explosive device was implanted in the rear of the car?”
In response, Inspector Stevens led them back towards the wreckage. The squad cars had created an island and uniformed policemen stood guard at the sides. Traffic flowed around them.
A car screeched to a halt, and two men jumped out. They were dressed in full black combat gear, with the word ‘counterterrorism’ emblazoned in big yellow letters on the front and back of their chest rigs. They jogged over to where Arla was standing. Both men wore black caps, and had a mean-looking weapon strapped to them. Their index fingers rested lightly on the trigger.
The lead man said curtly, “Agent Murdoch, Counterterrorism Squad.” He showed his ID. “This is Agent Sullivan,” he said, introducing his partner.
“What happened here?” Murdoch asked. Harry explained the event and the two officers listened impassively.
Inspector Stevens pointed at the base of the car. There wasn’t much to see, and Arla didn’t know what she was looking for in the wreckage. Stevens flashed a torch and showed the remains of a pipe which had clearly snapped off.
“This was the rear exhaust pipe. Half of it’s still attached to the back chassis.” He straightened, but kept the light shining on the remains. “My guess is someone packed a device inside this thing, or strapped it to the sides of the pipe.”
“And how did it detonate?” Arla asked.
Murdoch replied. “It would either be a timed device, or detonated by an electrical signal, like a mobile telephone call. Five rings is normally enough electricity to spark an improvised explosive device.” His gaze flitted from Arla to Stevens and then Harry. “Are we suspecting a terrorism-related offense here?”