by Graham West
Jo passed me a mug of steaming coffee and sat opposite, pulling her housecoat across her chest.
“I know who the stalker is,” I told her.
Jo stared at me. “No shit! Who?”
She sat almost motionless as I told her the whole story, but the expression on her face left me in no doubt that Melissa was going to get little sympathy, even if her life had been cut short by cancer. It only reminded Jo that I had cheated on my wife, and if I had cheated once…
I handed her the letter and the photograph. “She looks like her mother,” she said dryly. “More’s the pity.”
I ignored the comment and watched as Jo read the letter, shaking her head as she handed it back. “So now you have a permanent reminder of your affair,” she said angrily, “as well as a permanent reminder of Elizabeth’s fling.”
I nodded. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
“You have really fucked up your life, Rob. All of this shit is down to you. Elizabeth is dead, Hanna is dead, both of Darren Pascoe’s parents are dead…and you know what? If you have just kept your dick in your trousers, they’d all be alive!”
I felt a physical pain in my chest, and my stomach turned. For a moment, I swore I was going to throw up yesterday’s food.
“And what is this going to do to Jenny? What? Have you even fucking thought about that? She’s going to feel like a spare part. Every time you’re with Kayla, every time you even talk about her, she is going to wonder how she can compete with your real daughter.”
“It’s not like that,” I protested, still feeling that crushing weight under my ribcage.
“How do you know, Rob? You don’t know Kayla. She could be a little bitch, demanding your time, expecting you to drop everything the moment she clicks her fingers. Don’t tell me she won’t, because you don’t know. Her mother was a selfish cow, and what’s in the cat is in the kittens!”
I wished I had an answer, but everything Josie said was true. I didn’t know Kayla. I could only hope—and maybe even pray—that she was a girl who would one day be a part of a happy family, but right now, I foresaw only friction and heartache.
Jo glared at me. “So what are you going to do? How are you going to fix this?”
The truth was, I didn’t know. “Kayla said she’d be in touch. She’s giving me time to think.”
“Oh, she’ll be in touch, all right. Mark my words!” Josie stood, taking my half-empty cup. “I’ve got things to do. I’m sorry.”
I looked up as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Just go, Rob. Please!”
When I reached the door of The Keys, Josie was several yards behind me—a safe distance. No hugs. No kisses. “It could work out well,” I said, briefly making eye contact. “We could be a family.”
Josie threw me a death glare. “A family? I don’t know if I want to be with you anymore, Rob. I’d sooner stick with Lou than take a risk with a man who I could never trust. What happens when the next Melissa comes along? What happens, Rob? Tell me!” She paused. “You can’t, because you’re a man—a man who’s managed to screw up his own life and leave a trail of shit behind him.”
If I’d have been a more eloquent man I might have found a worthy reply. “I would never do that to you,” I said weakly.
Josie stared at me with a look of utter contempt. “Oh, too right, you wouldn’t! I’m no Elizabeth. I wouldn’t sit in the corner crying. Believe me, if you ever messed with me, I’d make you regret the day you were born. And that’s after the surgeons had sewn your dick back on!”
I climbed behind the wheel of my car hoping I never heard from Kayla again. There was too much history behind the girl. Too many painful memories, and I could not see how Jenny could ever be comfortable being around her. Josie was right. Maybe, as heartless as it might sound, it might be better if I explained to Kayla that I didn’t want any contact.
***
By the time I saw Jenny that evening, my mind was made up. My real daughter was lying in front of me. She was my life, and I was going to make sure that nothing came between us. I called Josie as soon as I arrived home. Lou answered and told me she was busy in the bar so I messaged her.
Jenny is my only girl. That’s how it will stay. xxx
I waited anxiously but Jo didn’t reply. She was still mad at me. Kayla would hate me too. What was I going to tell her? Sleep came as a way of escape, my mind spinning me into a deep dream-free slumber.
I couldn’t face food. I looked at my reflection in the mirror; I’d seen healthier looking corpses, and the stale taste of coffee found me rooting through the fridge, where I found a carton of fresh orange. I pulled desperately at the tag and took several mouthfuls just as my phone rang.
“Mr. Adams?”
I recognised the voice from somewhere.
“This is Dennis Blakely. I interviewed you a while back, about the body in the lake?”
This was the Tabwell Herald’s mystery man. The reporter they knew nothing about. “I remember. The Herald had never heard of you.”
Blakely was ready. “I know. Look, please don’t hang up—I can explain. Can I meet you?”
I was intrigued and would have travelled halfway across the world to hear what he had to say, but it was clear he was prepared to meet me on my terms, so I gave him the address of The Keys. I had no idea what the bogus reporter had to tell me, but if it got Josie talking to me again then it hardly mattered.
Blakely told me that it was a good seventy-mile drive and we agreed to meet at lunch. I sat and stared at the moving pictures on the TV screen, my head still spinning. The painkillers made me drowsy. Sleep was a way out, and providing I avoided meeting Amelia in my dreams, it was all good. But I didn’t so much sleep as crash headlong into oblivion, waking at midday with only half an hour to dress and get myself down to The Keys.
Blakely was waiting for me when I arrived. He was seated in the far corner with a glass of spa water and a lunch menu. He greeted me warmly with a handshake as firm as I’d remembered.
“I’m sorry for all the subterfuge,” he said, grinning broadly, “but I think you’ll forgive me when I’ve explained everything.”
Josie hadn’t made an appearance but left Lou to take our order. My appetite only allowed me a side snack of garlic bread, but Blakely was clearly a man with an empty stomach; he ordered steak but washed it down with nothing stronger than a glass of soda water.
“Never worried to much about wine,” he said, handing the menu back to Lou. “And I wouldn’t know a vintage if it slapped me around the face. Water keeps me fresh.”
I was anxious to learn what this man had in store for me and wasn’t interested in getting into a discussion about alcohol. He must have seen that quizzical look in my eyes.
“I’ll get straight to the point,” he said, resting his arms on the table and leaning in as if he was about to reveal something that no one else was meant to hear. “My father—well, my father’s company—is purchasing Crest Hill Rest Home, and the woodland, too.”
I shrugged. “So why did you want to know about the body?”
Blakely grinned. “Well, we are planning to convert the whole place into a leisure park. Not like Disney—it will be forest walks, outdoor activities for families where kids can get away from their iPods and TVs. We’re going to have nature trails and picnic areas. The house will be turned into a hotel, and we will add a conservatory. That will be the restaurant, and we hope to eventually buy up another few acres of land beside the wood and plant more trees and build wooden lodges.”
“Sounds brilliant,” I said. “But—”
“I know. What does this have to do with you?”
I nodded.
Blakely took a sip of wine. “We are planning to clean up the pond and turn it into a picnic area. There will be fountains, and we will stock the place with fish. Giant carp—all the stuff kids love.”
The man’s enthusiasm for the project was clear, but he could see I was becoming impatient.
“I’m sorry. The point is,
we will be dredging the pond. But by the time all the planning has gone through, work won’t start for a good twelve months.” Blakely smiled. “I’m guessing you won’t want to wait that long.”
I felt a proposal coming, but it was one that might cost me money.
“The thing is, my interest in your story is entirely personal. I’m addicted to ghost-hunting programmes. I just love all that paranormal stuff—always have. That’s why I posed as a reporter. I’ve got a nose for bullshit, and I just wanted to check you out.”
I shrugged, trying to suppress the anticipation. “Did I pass?”
“With flying colours. Even when I tried to scare you.”
“So what happens now?”
Dennis Blakely drained his glass. “I’ve spoken to the Farridays, and they’ve agreed to let us send some divers in to search for the body.”
I stared at him, waiting for the catch.
“Don’t worry, Robert,” he said, raising his empty glass. “This one’s on me. It won’t cost you a penny.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
I would happily have kissed him on the lips at that point. He was staring at me, waiting for a response, but all I could muster was a rather weak thank-you.
“Would you like to be there? When they look for the body?”
There was nothing that would keep me away. When this man, whose tailored jacket would have funded my whole wardrobe, had waved a wad of his father’s cash, the flickering light at the end of the long, dark tunnel had burst into life. I was in the mood to talk. By the time we cleared our plates, Blakely had my whole life story. There would have been nothing to hold his attention, had I not gone looking for Melissa that morning, but that decision had turned an existence into a soap opera. We shook hands.
“I’ll call you next week, before the dive.” He left, turning at the door and giving me a thumbs up.
Josie stood at the bar, dressed to kill and looking my way. In that moment, all thoughts of Blakely and his divers were forgotten as I waited to see that smile that told me I was forgiven. But she turned, as if the very sight of me offended her.
My heart ached at the thought of losing her, but I didn’t have the words to win a woman back. I stumbled like an infatuated schoolboy, tripping over his pre-rehearsed lines.
I sat for a while, staring at the menu, the empty plates and glasses littering the table. I had no stomach for a dessert but I couldn’t leave—not with the cloud of rejection hanging over me. I had to know. I had to know if Jo was ever going to be a part of my life again. The words were there in my head, jumbled like a kids’ jigsaw, but each time they formed themselves into something I could deliver, they evaporated.
It was hopeless, and the place was filling up with lunchtime diners. This was a table for four—a family—parents with their kids, grandparents with their grandchildren—people who hadn’t managed to screw up their lives. They would be waiting for the loser in the corner to vacate his table and slither off home to his empty house and his empty life.
I pushed the menu aside, sliding back in my chair. There was no point in hanging on.
“Not fancy the ice cream, then?”
I looked up. Josie stood over me. She saw the pain in my eyes. “Babe, I’m sorry,” she whispered.
It was like an explosion within. I stood, pulling her into my arms. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry for screwing up my life, I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for everything!”
I wasn’t even aware that everyone had stopped talking, intrigued by our very public display of affection.
“They know,” she whispered. “Lou has told everyone. He’s happy for us.”
I felt the tears welling in my eyes. It was now. Now was the time. “Jo, I love you,” I said. My voice must have carried across the room. “I meant what I said—I want us to be a family.” I broke the embrace, holding her hands in mine. I’d never been one for grand gestures, but I found myself pulling the ring from the empty drinks can and sinking to my knees. “Josie Duxbury…please say you’ll marry me? Please!”
Jo gazed at me, her eyes bright. “Of course I will!” she beamed. “Of course I will!”
I pushed the tin ring onto the tip of her finger. She laughed as the whole place erupted into applause. “I don’t think that’s going to fit!” she said as we turned to see everyone in The Keys standing at their tables, whistling and cheering, clinking their glasses. I looked over at Lou. He was clapping, too. Our eyes met, and he smiled.
“I always knew,” he mouthed. Then he rattled a glass on the bar. “It’s Happy Hour!” he shouted.
That seemed to go down even better than my impromptu proposal.
Josie sat opposite me. “You look a little confused, hun. Happy but confused.”
“It’s just the response,” I told her. “Everyone thought you and Lou were a happily married couple. They’ve taken all this pretty well.”
Jo grinned. “There are quite a few strangers in here, hun,” she said. “And our regulars suspected that Lou and Sammy are close, although they’re not exactly a couple…not yet.” She glanced over at the bar, “Let’s face it, no one would know that Lou was gay, but Sammy? You’d have to be blind.”
“So everyone knows the situation…with you two?”
Jo nodded. “Pretty much. We decided to make it public the other day, and word travels real fast in these quarters. There were a few raised eyebrows, but…”
“How long has Lou known?”
Jo shrugged. “He’s known how I felt for a while, but we had a good chat last week.”
“So what’s going to happen?”
“We’ll continue to run the pub together. We’re good friends, Rob. That won’t change. We love each other, if you know what I mean.”
I nodded. That was fine with me. I was looking at my future wife. That was enough.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
I woke the following morning to low thunderous clouds that threatened to deliver more than the gentle drizzle that greeted me as I looked out of my window. Nothing could dampen my spirits that morning, and although Jenny had looked like death, I believed she would be back. Josie may not have shared my conviction regarding the causes of Jenny’s comatose condition, but she wanted to believe that the recovery of Amelia’s body would bring the whole saga to some kind of close. That was good enough for me.
I had already decided to visit the grave. It may have been a guilt thing, but when a man is ready to move on he at least owes it to his wife to explain, even if she has passed over. I parked up at the cemetery and waited for the rain to pass. The black clouds rolled by and as the sky brightened I stepped out, an umbrella tucked deep into my waterproof jacket.
The jacket was the last thing Elizabeth had bought for me. We had taken a weekend break in Cumbria, determined to spend the time walking on the fells. Unfortunately, the weather forecast threatened continuous drizzle. They weren’t wrong. It was pretty much like living in a cloud, so we found ourselves browsing the outdoor activity shops like seasoned hikers, and that was when Elizabeth presented me with a Gore-Tex jacket as an early birthday present.
That all seemed so long ago, and now I found myself in a deserted cemetery standing at Hanna and Elizabeth’s grave in the hazy light, reading the inscription as I’d done many times before. Once again, I began to weep. The pain rose within me, fierce and unstoppable. I loved Josie but I grieved for my wife, I grieved for my baby girl, and I sobbed with remorse for everything I’d done. I had failed her, broken her heart, and she lay there as a consequence of my actions.
I knelt on the rain-sodden ground for an hour until the tears stopped. I returned to my car just as the sun finally appeared from behind the thinning clouds. I felt cleansed and peaceful, almost as if Elizabeth had reached out from beyond the grave and laid a forgiving hand upon my spirit. Maybe that was just wishful thinking, but I knew that if she had to choose another woman for me—a woman to be a mother to Jenny and fill the gaping hole she’d left—it would have been Josie.
&nbs
p; ***
We shared lunch at Tammy’s and ate well. I had the monster topped pizza, washed down with a beer, while Josie picked her way through a chicken salad, explaining that she wanted to look good in her wedding dress. We laughed our way through the meal, yet I was dreading a call from Kayla. It had to come at some time over the next few days, and I’d have to deal with her face to face. Josie made it clear that she’d support me in whatever decision I came to, but that decision was mine. I was on my own.
The call from Blakely came first. Three days after we had last met, he phoned to say that the dive would take place at the weekend. I spent the Friday night at Jenny’s bedside, finding it easy to talk about Blakely and his men and the plans for the Stanwicks’ home. It was going to be a place where the kids could play and learn. Amelia would have loved that. Family life—the very thing she had been denied. Everything that the Stanwicks stood for—the master’s cruelty, the weakness of his wife, the subservience to the church—would all be brushed away, and the house would ring with the laughter of children, drowning out the cries of the young woman who once sat imprisoned within its walls.
***
I was greeted by Farriday in the grounds at the edge of the wood. “This is exciting,” he said, with the air of a man who had offloaded all his troubles for a fair price. The skies were broody and grey, plunging the woodland into an eerie darkness, and the small film crew Blakely had hired was setting up lighting around the pond.
“I’d say this was more like a small lake,” one of the crew muttered, adjusting the lighting pod.
Blakely welcomed me with his usual firm handshake. “I thought we’d use our guys to capture the moment,” he said with a childlike enthusiasm. “For the record.”
Just then, three divers appeared from behind a canvas screen set up between two trees. Two cameramen swung their lenses in the direction of the divers as they made their way to the water’s edge.
My heart began to thump. Farriday had been joined by his wife, and they stood arm in arm, a little way back from the action.