by Millie Vigor
In the kitchen, Nancy was preparing a meal.
‘How do you think she’s doing?’ she said. ‘She’s talking about going home. That must be a good sign.’
‘I’ve just offered to drive her home, but she turned me down flat and won’t give me a reason. I don’t understand it. I thought she’d be glad. I know I haven’t been around for a long time but we know each other. It seems she doesn’t trust me, doesn’t trust anybody. What am I going to do?’
Nancy gave a knowing little smile.
‘My dear boy, if what she’s told me is true, she’s been under a lot of stress. I doubt she’s going to trust any man for quite a while. You’ll have to be patient. She’s very fond of you, you know. When she used to talk about her home and family, she often mentioned you and the mischief the pair of you got up to.’
‘What did that man do to her, Nancy? Whatever it was, surely she can forget it all now and be happy among people she knows and who love her. I had been hoping to pick up where we left off, but it’s not happening.’
‘Don’t worry, Brett. She’ll stay here with me until she’s ready to go and I won’t let her until I know she is. When she does get home you’d better be there for her. Don’t put her under any pressure; let her find her own way back.’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said Brett. ‘Take care of her, won’t you? It’s nice to know that she’s got you to lean on. It’s been nice knowing you.’ He placed his hands on Nancy’s shoulders and put a kiss on each side of her face. ‘I’ll let myself out.’ He turned and walked away.
DC Jasper Tremayne, laptop on the desk in front of him, was reading the journal Ginny had written. He frowned, he smiled, he pursed his lips and from time to time shook his head and looked very angry. As he came to the end of the last entry, he slapped the desk with his hand.
‘The bastard,’ he shouted. ‘How could he do that?’
‘You said something,’ said DI Barker as he walked into the office.
‘I’ve been reading Miss Harvey’s journal. You’ve got to. It’ll tell you what sort of man that Curtis Brookes is.’
‘I know what he is,’ said Barker. ‘I’ve just been to see him in the hospital. Not only has he got a dislocated shoulder, but he also has severe concussion and a fractured skull. That young woman packs a mighty punch. Let this be a warning to you, Tremayne, women are not always the gentle souls we like to think they are. I’m told they think he’s got something called multiple personality disorder. Apparently victims of childhood abuse develop other personalities as a form of escape, a way of denying that the abuse they’ve suffered ever happened. God only knows what happened to Curtis Brookes, but as soon as he’s fit to move, they’re going to send him to a psychiatric hospital where he’ll be assessed and hopefully treated.’
‘You mean he’s a nutter of the first order.’
‘No, Tremayne, I do not. People with MPD develop other egos because dreadful things happened which they were powerless to stop. They switch off and do things and don’t remember that they did them. It’s very complicated. You should read it up for yourself. But don’t dismiss people with mental problems as dafties. Now then … where were we?’
THIRTY-ONE
‘ I’m coming with you to the airport,’ said Nancy. ‘Someone’s got to see you off.’
Ginny smiled. ‘You don’t have to. I’m all right now.’
‘If you think you’re going to stop me, think again,’ said Nancy. ‘I would never forgive myself if I let you sit there on your own while you waited to board the plane. And the first thing you do when you meet your parents and have hugged them is to ring me and let me know you’ve arrived safely. OK?’
‘You’re a bully, Nancy Graham, but yes, OK.’
Ginny was lucky and a cancellation gave her the chance to fly home to Scotland in time for Christmas. At the airport while she waited to go through security, Ginny’s hand was clasped tightly in Nancy’s.
‘Promise me you’ll not hurry back; take your time to unwind,’ said Nancy. ‘They say distance lends enchantment to the view, and that applies to you and your memories of what happened. The farther you are away from them the less awful they will seem. Enjoy your time with your mum and dad. I’m sure they won’t want to let you go again. And please don’t push Brett McIvor away; he was the one who did most to help find you. You have a lot to thank him for.’
‘I hear what you’re saying,’ said Ginny. ‘I am indebted to all of you for what you have done, but I really do not want another man in my life. After what Curtis did to me, do you think I could possibly trust another? I’m telling you, Nancy, there were times when I wondered if I was ever going to come out of that house alive.’ She took her hand away from Nancy. ‘And then on the other hand,’ she added, ‘he was kind to me so how can I hate him for what he did?’
‘But he took you away from your friends and family and caused them a great deal of heartache,’ said Nancy. ‘He wasn’t being kind to them.’
‘I know, but they would have got over it. I’m sure he wasn’t going to keep me locked up forever. And I was tempted to stay.’
‘My dear girl,’ said Nancy. ‘You’ve got to come to terms with it. I think you’re too close to it all to make reasoned judgement. Talk to your father about it, then put it away and forget it. Give it time. You need time to get everything into perspective.’
A voice announced the gate number for Ginny’s flight.
Nancy said, ‘Give me a hug now so that I can walk away. If I don’t, I shall probably cry and I don’t want to upset you.’
Christmas went by in a shower of presents, a plethora of invitations to go out and a raft of visitors coming in. Ginny’s mother called a halt and said that her daughter needed to rest and recover. Brett called but didn’t stay long, didn’t ask Ginny out, said he hoped she was feeling better and that he’d call again. When he left, she went to the window to watch him walk away and wondered what she was going to do about the twinge of longing for him that was still in her heart. Don’t push Brett McIvor away, Nancy had said. It wasn’t pushing him away, thought Ginny; it was how and when she was going to let him come back.
But Christmas was over, Hogmanay too and now, in the early days of the New Year, she was in her father’s study writing thank you letters. She thought of Curtis and wondered what had happened to him after the police took him away. Nancy had told her that he had been taken to a psychiatric hospital and was undergoing treatment. She put down her pen, sat back in her chair and stared out of the window at the snow covered scene.
Well, Curtis, I should feel sorry for you but I don’t. Maybe they’ll help you come to terms with your demons, but who’s going to help me? Thanks to you I’ve got demons too, monsters that come to haunt me, hover over me when I should be sleeping. I have nightmares. I’m afraid to go out on my own. I’m suspicious of every man who looks at me. I don’t trust any of them. I look at them and wonder what’s behind their eyes, what is going on in their minds. That’s the legacy you’ve left me with, Curtis. I’m told I will recover from all you did to me, but I wonder if they mean it. Then again, I can’t help feeling sorry for you. I’m being pulled two ways and I don’t know which one is the right way for me to go.
In a room that was quiet save for the gentle tick of a clock, the murmurings of the wind in the chimney and an occasional bump or clatter of a pan that told her that her mother was busy in the kitchen, Ginny still sat and did nothing. Then she picked up her pen and began to write.
Dear Curtis,
First of all I must say that I’m sorry I had to hit you. I didn’t mean to do you so much harm, but you know I had to get out. I have been told that you are in hospital. I hope they are treating you well and that you are feeling better now.
I know that our time together was not good but I would like to say that I think I now understand some of the reasons why you treated me the way you did. And I want you to know that. I wish you well.
Virginia
The study door opened. �
�I’m making coffee, Ginny,’ said her mother. ‘Would you like some?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘Come along then, you can finish your letters later.’
Ginny followed her mother to the kitchen. The house was a rambling old granite building with a kitchen, square and stone floored, of likewise proportions. A black Labrador lay in a basket by the side of an Aga. It thumped the floor with its tail when Ginny walked in.
Sarah had been baking and the kitchen was filled with the smell of spice. A tray of freshly baked small cakes stood on a table in the centre of the room. On the Aga, a pot gave out the savoury aroma of a meaty, homemade soup.
Ginny pulled out a chair and sat at the table. The atmosphere of the kitchen, so familiar, normal and peaceful, wrapped itself around her. She knew that it and the serene presence of her mother was the balm to her soul that she needed.
She would not hurry back to her cottage.
By the same author
Catherine of Deepdale
No Skylarks Sing
Paying Davy Jones
© Millie Vigor
First published in Great Britain 2015
ISBN 978 0 7198 1950 6 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1951 3 (mobi)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1952 0 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7198 1762 5 (print)
Robert Hale Limited
Clerkenwell House
Clerkenwell Green
London EC1R 0HT
www.halebooks.com
The right of Millie Vigor to be identified as
author of this work has been asserted by her
in accordance with the Copyright, Designs
and Patents Act 1988