The Near & Far Series

by Serena Clarke

  Feeling much better, she wrapped her hair in a towel turban and slathered herself with moisturiser. Funny how she always washed from top to bottom, but moisturised from bottom to top, she mused. Did everyone do the same? She must ask Cass. She swung another towel around her body and then, tucking it in securely at the top, went out into the passage.

  Her heart lurched. Len Mortlock was standing in the entranceway.

  Twenty-Four

  He stood still, legs apart, blocking her only exit. She looked wildly around, clutching her towel with both hands. Despite her entire body being in a screaming state of alert, she was unable to make any sound.

  “Hello, love,” he said, a hard smile on his face. “Just us. Your hero has gone out with your little friend.” She noticed that his once carefully styled beard was ragged, stubble growing up through the gaps. He was much taller than she remembered.

  “Shall we?”

  He started towards her and she backed away, desperately trying to think what she could defend herself with. If only she had some James Bond moves now. She couldn’t remember a damn thing from her mum’s self-defence classes. The towel turban teetered and started to fall sideways, and she tore it off, flinging it uselessly at his head as she turned to run down the passage. It hit him in the face but he cast it aside and kept coming.

  At the end of the passage she made a split second decision and swung into the living room. Plenty of implements to use as a weapon in the kitchen, but plenty for him too. She pushed the door closed behind her, but he was already there, forcing it back open. Fear made her strong, but he was stronger.

  “Not quite fast enough, love,” he said as she shot around to the other side of the coffee table, cracking her shin on its corner in the tight space. She barely registered the pain as she turned to face him across the small room.

  He looked her up and down, taking his time. It wasn’t a warm morning, but her goose-bumps were not only caused by the temperature. Legs shaking, she held the towel together tightly, horribly aware of how small it was. For a fleeting, ridiculous moment she remembered standing in M&S with Cass, debating whether to pay more for bath sheets or settle for regular towels.

  “Sit down,” he told her. “No need to be so formal.”

  She started to obey, but as she lowered herself to the sofa the towel began to part at the front. “I’ll stand, thank you,” she said, keeping her voice as strong and steady as she could.

  He shrugged, shut the door, and took a seat nearby. Arms across the back of the sofa, legs spread, he made himself comfortable in the same spot where she’d first seen him. This Len was calm compared to the shouting, spitting creature Steve had removed from their garden, but more menacing. He had regained his smooth manner, but the well-groomed exterior that had impressed her mother was long gone. The neatest thing about him now was the perma-crease running down the legs of his synthetic trousers.

  He saw her glance at them, and raised an overgrown eyebrow. “Like what you see, love?”

  A small, disgusted noise was her only reply. At this he stood up, his face reddening, and began to come towards her. This is it, she thought, bracing herself for who knew what. But when he saw the fear that flashed across her face, he laughed, satisfied, and sat down again.

  Relief added to shock made her even weaker than before. Her heart was still pounding, and she felt sick from the adrenaline charge. She said nothing, afraid of antagonising him, and fixed a neutral expression on her face. Time seemed to slow as he sat, and she stood. Cold drips of water from her wet hair ran down her spine. She stood her ground, waiting, and Len smiled as he watched her. He was in no hurry.

  After the longest time, a dog barked, and the sound broke the impasse. “I wonder why you think I’m here,” he said. “Maybe you think it’s for you.” He leaned forward, stroking the wayward growth around his lips, narrowing his eyes as he considered her. “This is actually between me and your mother. But now that I see you again…so much of you… Yes, I could thoroughly enjoy myself.”

  His tongue crept out, pushing aside the damp whiskers that threatened to curl into the corner of his mouth. “There’s no rush, everyone at work. We always knew there would be another time, didn’t we love?” He stood up, rubbing his stubby-fingered hands together. “Always a party when Mortlock’s in the house…”

  She had never been so scared, or so desperate. She tried to judge which way he would come, so she could escape in the opposite direction. But then he stopped.

  “No, business first. Where’s Evelyn?”

  “She’s gone,” Livi managed, thankful that it was true. “She’s gone with my dad.”

  Her words were a slap in the face. He raised himself up, his chest puffed out.

  “She has not,” he insisted. “She’s finding herself. She’s being her own woman for once. She’s not going to do that with him.” The last word was a venomous spit.

  “Yes, she is.” This time the satisfaction was hers. But it didn’t last. He flew at her and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head around.

  “Where is she? Where the hell is she?”

  Spittle landed on her face and she tried to twist her head away from his rage and his fetid breath, but he held her hair too tightly. Struggling to keep hold of the towel as he forced her down to the sofa, she kicked out blindly with one leg. By sheer luck, it struck his grey polyester crotch. He let go of her hair and lurched backwards, hard against the corner of the coffee table. Then, with a roar of pain and anger, he set upon her, tearing at the towel she was gripping with all her might.

  As she fought back, she heard herself scream, the kind of sound she’d never made before. She stabbed at his face with one hand, and felt the fleshy orb shift under his eyelid as her fingernails connected with his eye. He covered the eye, cursing, and she ducked away, so close to escape.

  Just as she reached the door, it flew open and crashed against the wall. With one look, Cam took in the scene—Livi freezing and desperate in her towel, Len crazed and wild right behind her, a long scratch across his left eye. He turned tail, but Cam was on top of him in two strides, dragging him back across the coffee table, past Livi and out to the floor in the passage. She followed, holding her towel securely, and got there just in time to see Cam land a resounding punch on the side of Len’s sweaty, dishevelled head.

  He was lining up for a second hit when they heard an exclamation from the entranceway. Aidan and Will stood there with incredulous faces.

  “The key was in the door,” Aidan said, holding up the spare key she’d given Cam. “Livi! My God, what’s happening?”

  Len took advantage of Cam’s momentary distraction to attempt a punch of his own, but Cam caught his arm and forced it across his chest. Then he lifted him up and twisted both arms behind his back. “You can probably guess,” he said grimly. “Livi, get some clothes.”

  He pressed Len hard against the wall as she passed by. Even in her shaken state she noticed the beautifully cut black suit he was wearing. “Thank you,” she managed, and he gave a dark nod.

  She threw on her dressing gown and came straight back out. None of them had moved, although Cam now seemed to be crushing Len almost completely flat against the wall. Aidan and Will were still agog, fixed to the spot.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked them.

  Will suddenly remembered. “God, Livi, this is terrible timing. There’s a reporter and a cameraman from New Zealand looking for you. They came to the salon.”

  “What? Are they coming here now?”

  “Yes, but they were driving. We hoped we’d beat them by tube. Aidan was home, so I phoned him to come too. We thought you might need back-up, if you were home, but we didn’t expect…” His voice faded as he waved at Len, subdued for the moment but looking defiant.

  “We did call you,” Aidan added, “but Cass remembered she left the phone in her bed this morning, so you might not have heard it. And you didn’t answer your mobile. Now we know why.” His nose crinkled. “Who is this?”
<
br />   “Someone bloody lucky he’s still in one piece,” Cam said, giving Len a shake-up. “Let’s put him in the kitchen. Livi, you’d better call the police.”

  She went and rummaged in Cass’s bed and found the phone. For a moment, she sat on the rumpled batik bedcover, thinking about what to do next. When she got back to the kitchen, Len was seated at one end of the table, with the three men standing guard, arms folded like three Corleone brothers. She might have laughed if she wasn’t so stressed.

  She went around them and peered out the open window. Nothing yet.

  Cam took one eye off Len. “Go ahead and ring.”

  He wasn’t going to like this. “Um…I can’t.”

  She had all their attention. Len sat up straighter in his enforced seat.

  “You have to, Livi. He’s not getting away with this.”

  “No, not if there’s a film crew arriving here any minute. Imagine how much they’d love this drama. There’s no way I want this on television.”

  Cam took her arm and steered her out into the passage. “You’re not safe with him around,” he said in a low voice. “He could come back at any time.”

  She looked away, but he put a finger on her cheek and turned her face back to his. “He’s dangerous, Livi. Think what could have happened.”

  “I know. Thank God you were here. But I just don’t want anything for them to film.”

  “Really? You’d put pride before your own safety?”

  “It’s not pride! It’s avoidance of humiliation. Cam, please.”

  He sighed. “Well then, we’d better get rid of him before they arrive.”

  But it was too late. Will gestured towards the window as they went back in, and Livi caught a glimpse of a reporter and a cameraman getting out of a white van before she ducked out of sight.

  “Damn!” She pressed herself against the worktop, out of view of the street. “Did you two close the door behind you?”

  When they nodded she relaxed a little, but not much. Now she knew how the fox felt, hounds just on the other side of the fence. She’d always been a believer in drag hunting.

  Just then the phone rang in her hand, making her jump. It was Cass.

  “Are they there?” she asked urgently.

  “Yes, they’re outside. How did they find out where we live, do you know?”

  “Absolutely no idea. But it seems like you can find anyone online, if you know how. Mia says so, anyway. Are the boys there?”

  “Yes, they both are, and Cam too.” She paused, not really wanting to worry Cass any more. “And Len.”

  “Len? What’s he doing there?”

  As she was about to reply there was a loud knocking on the door, and, taking advantage of the open window, Len yelled, “We’re up here!”

  Cam reached out and shut the window in a swift movement. He was ready to take aim at Len again, but Livi went across and grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t, it’s not worth it,” she said, while Cass’s voice came down the line, desperate to know what was going on. Cam stopped, but gave Len a look that would split a stone in two.

  “We’re just having a bit of drama here,” Livi told Cass. “Len was a bit…upset.” Despite the presence of three big men, she didn’t want to set him off again.

  “Upset like last time you mean? As in, a complete lunatic?”

  “Pretty much, yes. And now we’re stuck here with our own paparazzi outside.”

  The sound of knocking came again, and Cam eyeballed Len.

  “Shit. But Livi, I know what to do. You were supposed to go to Paris tomorrow. Rue Beautreillis, right? Just go a day early. Get out of there.”

  “Paris? But…” Too late, she saw Len’s focus snap onto her, and wished she could swallow the word back in.

  “Why not? The trains run all the time. When the boys get back I’ll meet you at St Pancras and give you the satchel, you’ll need that.”

  “Okay.” This time she was careful not to give anything away. “Thanks.”

  “See you soon.”

  She hung up, trying to ignore the persistent knocking from downstairs. “They can just wait,” she said. “I need to put some clothes on. And Cam, can you do something for me?”

  He was reluctant to relinquish his Len watch, but left the boys on duty again and followed her into her bedroom, where she pulled her wheeled suitcase from under the bed and began flinging clothes into it.

  “I have to go,” she told him in a low voice. “Cass is right, I’m just going to get out of here.”

  “To Paris?”

  She shrugged and threw in a pair of shoes. “Might as well. I wanted to see Paris one day anyway.” Not like this, admittedly.

  “But the reporter…and Len will know where you’ve gone.”

  “From Cass’s room I can go out the window and down the fire escape. It comes out on the street behind ours. They won’t even know I’m gone. And I doubt Len is going to follow me to Paris. It’s my mum he’s really interested in, anyway.”

  “Then I’ll come too.” He took off his tie and stuffed it in his suit pocket. It was final. He wouldn’t listen to any argument.

  Five minutes later, they were out in the back street and heading for the Blackhorse Road tube. Cam carried her little suitcase while she texted Will as they went, explaining Cass’s plan. She imagined them there in the kitchen, still waiting for her and Cam. Hopefully they could manage Len and get him past the waiting camera without revealing where she was going. Hopefully she and Cam would make it to the tube station without a white van finding them. And hopefully, by the time she got back from Paris, they would have given up and gone back to New Zealand, and she would have peace again.

  Twenty-Five

  They finally made it to the tube station and fell into a westbound train, heading for St Pancras station and the Eurostar. “I don’t think I’m going to breathe again until we hit the Continent,” she said, collapsing into a seat.

  Cam took off his backpack and sat next to her. “Lucky I was already packed.”

  “True.” She ran her fingers through her hair, hanging down her back any which way. Her head hurt where Len had grabbed her hair so hard. God knows what she looked like. No time for makeup or blow-drying or even a comb. She sighed, and Cam looked sideways.

  “You look lovely,” he said. “Like I remember you before you grew up.”

  In her flustered state all she could do was make a disbelieving noise, but he just smiled. Then she could see the boy she grew up with too, even in the quietly sophisticated black suit.

  “What about you, all dressed up—where have you been?”

  But he stuck to the script. “People to see. Nothing exciting.”

  “Would these people have a big black car, by any chance?”

  “They might.”

  He smiled again, impenetrable, and she sighed. Eventually.

  As they arrived at St Pancras, a text came from Will. They had phoned for a minicab and then frogmarched Len out without a word, straight past the crew, and left. Livi had to laugh as she told Cam. Never explain, never apologise. That summed those two up. They’d dropped Len at Hackney Marsh, a decent walk from any kind of transport, and were going on to Leyton tube station.

  “Wonder what the taxi driver made of it,” Cam commented.

  “Me too. This is probably the only time I’ll be glad of dodgy London cabbies.”

  St Pancras was busy with workers, tourists, frazzled-looking mothers with children, and, around the edges, lost souls with nowhere else to be. They ordered hot drinks from a kiosk, and found a seat out of the hustle and bustle. Although she knew he was probably still out in the wilds of Hackney, she couldn’t stop scanning the passing faces for any sign of Len.

  She sighed. “We might have a long wait, by the time the boys get back and Cass makes it here.”

  It was tempting to go without the satchel—couldn’t Cass just hand it in to lost luggage here? She was even less keen to find the American with Cam in tow than with Mattias. Actually,
she was starting to forget what he even looked like, let alone that intoxicating feeling that had started all the trouble. But the next Paris train was delayed so there was no option but to wait, and then Cass was there.

  She flung herself upon Livi, crushing her in a repentant hug. “Oh my God, Livi, I’m so sorry! The boys told me everything. It’s all my fault—I can’t have closed the door properly when I left with Steve this morning. You were so brave. You could have been killed! I’m so sorry…” All the while squeezing just about hard enough to kill Livi herself.

  “It’s not your fault,” Livi said, patting her back. “How could we have guessed he’d do that?”

  “I suppose so,” she said, letting Livi go and wiping her eyes.

  “It might be a good idea to see if Steve can stay for a night or two, though. Just to be safe.”

  Cass nodded. “I’m pretty sure he won’t mind that.” And a little twinkle was back in her eyes. “Oh, now, here’s the bag.” She held it out to Livi.

  She hesitated. “I don’t know…I think it would be better to hand it in to lost property.”

  But Cass pressed it upon her. “No, you’re taking it,” she insisted. “It’s been here all along, in the lockers, and it cost me good money. If you don’t find him in Paris, then you can hand it in.”

  “You’re such a bully,” Livi said, trying not to look at Cam.

  “Is this another bag I’ll have to carry?” he teased.

  After that night at the Lamb and Flag, he knew all about the clues and the search so far. Livi herself hadn’t felt the need to share, but Aidan and Cass wouldn’t let a good story go to waste.

  “Oh…are you going too?”

  Cass looked from one of them to the other, her face reflecting the awkwardness Livi felt. Taking one man on the hunt for another was less than ideal. She’d got away with it at the crematorium, when the American was a no-show. And Mattias had survived her rejection, chatting about third-rail versus fourth-rail electrification on the way back. But this time, it seemed she was the one with feelings—a complication she’d be keeping to herself, until she knew what they meant.