by Anna Maxted
‘Nothing more?’
‘No one ever talked about it again. But I thought a lot about that carrycot going out of the door. I was scared to ask people – I didn’t know if it was a real memory, or a dream. I am so sorry, Nathan. Was it … awful, after?’
He nodded, leaning against her. She wanted to push him away, and run, but she gritted her teeth and pulled him to her. ‘Poor you.’ She paused. ‘I know it’s no consolation …’ Oh, tread carefully, Claudia. ‘ … but he was not a good father. He was neglectful … useless really. He didn’t know how to relate to children. My childhood was miserable, really. You didn’t miss a great time, I swear.’
He sat up. Every new second, she feared for her life. But now, he was smiling.
‘Claudia, I’m glad you say that. Not because it makes me feel better, only the Kents’ total annihilation could make me feel better, but because it gives me hope.’
‘Hope?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, ma’am. One second.’ He pressed a buzzer. ‘Mrs Klout? The champagne, please. Knock once, then leave it outside the door. Thank you.’
Mrs Klout was silent and dour. She’d be no use.
Minutes later, Claudia was in the ludicrous position of being curled up in bed with a killer, incidentally her spouse, drinking vintage champagne while her teeth chattered so hard she was afraid of biting off a chunk of glass.
‘So. My plan was always to destroy the Kent family, in the same way that they destroyed me. Because, Claudia, while I might resemble a fine figure of a young man, the truth is, I am a husk.’
She was afraid to agree; she was afraid to disagree.
‘I am empty. I make my living by slipping into the bodies of others.’ Oh God, was he talking about acting or some fetish to do with killing people? ‘I am sad, Claudia, because while rationally I can understand the circumstances in which I was rejected by Jack, emotionally it is impossible, and I am scarred to my soul by a feeling of worthlessness. And that is so wrong, and it is all Jack’s fault. I want to make him pay – and I will make him pay, and you will help me, because he hurt you. Oh, I know you wouldn’t help if he had only hurt me – people always think of number one! So, of course, the first thing, we take all their money – obvious really, a cheap dig, taken as read. You inherit everything when Jack and Innocence die. So, we kill them. A plane crash, a helicopter crash. Something dull. That can be arranged. But the money thing isn’t the big deal – I only take their money because it hurts. I think you’re the same as me – you aren’t hypnotized by money, you don’t worship it as they do. It’s so’ – he wrinkled his nose – ‘common.
‘That’s one possibility. I’m thinking off the top of my head here. Obviously, I’d prefer the personal touch: a knife in the heart, shortly after an explanation. You understand, you’re a journalist. It’s the satisfaction of getting a byline, as opposed to a pseudonym. You want to take credit! If we did it the helicopter way, there would have to be a tape. But it’s clumsy. I prefer the stabbing. The only disadvantage is it’s messier. And – it’s a shame, because I’m terribly fond of him – I’d have to kill Mark. You know, frame him for the bloodbath. You’d back me up, of course.’
Claudia put down her champagne glass. ‘Nathan,’ she said. Her voice was firm – she hoped. ‘Nathan. I understand your rage, but … I don’t think it’s a good idea. You would be caught. You would go to prison.’
He stared at her. ‘No, I wouldn’t. You’d back me up.’ He grinned. ‘And even if I did, it would be worth it.’
She took a deep breath – her last? ‘Nathan. I resent my father. And yes, you’re right – I have wanted to punish him – punish them for how they treated me. But … no parent is perfect. And I have a nice life. So do you. You have an amazing life. You are living well. That’s the best revenge. So, you move on.’
‘BULLSHIT!’ he screamed. ‘A stab in the heart is the best revenge! Fucking hell, I knew you’d be like this. Fine. OK. Well get this. Maria, yes? Your real mother. Jack was fucking your real mother. She traced him – you. And he never had the guts to tell you – it never occurred to him that you might need to meet her, that it might help your sense of self-worth, your fractured identity, to reunite with the woman who gave you life. As ever, he thought only of himself, and so it was your blood mother he married, and it was your blood mother blown to smithereens in the Paris bomb. Yes, my work, collateral damage, boohoo, but Maria was the one who found out about Martin – my little whimsy. Yes, Claudia, I was your mysterious pen pal who suddenly moved to … South Africa, was it? God, you were gullible. You don’t think, Claudia. None of you do. I have spent all of my life thinking, plotting, imagining brilliant, twisted ways to make all of you suffer the same unimaginable hell that I did, and the annoying thing is, you all have the presumption to think it COINCIDENCE!’
She stared at him.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Changed your mind?’
Maria.
Maria.
Eventually, she found her voice, subdued, tiny, but resolute. ‘I might hate Jack. And I … hear what you say about … Maria. But I would never kill. You mistake me. You don’t understand, Nathan. You don’t understand the nature of love. I hate him, but I love him also. And so do you. That is why it hurts so much.’
She paused.
He said nothing.
She shrugged. ‘Give it up, Nathan. It’s over.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s not over. Don’t try and psychobabble me into submission! Jesus. I’ve been married five minutes and already it’s driving me nuts. I knew you’d be difficult. Christ almighty. MARK!’
He was screaming now, into a radio. ‘Mark! Bring them in!’
She felt her heart shrivel. Even though she knew the answer, she had to ask the question. ‘Bring who in?’
He smiled at her, and it was a look of pure evil. ‘Well, Mrs Summers. You’re going to die, and I still want my naughties! You can’t expect me to abstain on my wedding night.’
‘Ethan … Nathan … I’ll do anything … please.’ Now she was sobbing, begging, on her knees.
‘Mark! Bring in the children.’
MARINA DEL REY, 11.30 P.M.
Jack
Jack sighed into his drink. ‘Ms Green. Claudia has married a wanker.’
Ms Green pursed her lips and inclined her chin to her chest. People always talked too much around Ms Green, because she said so little. She was always remarkably well informed.
He felt hostility from the guy – it glowed off him like phosphorescence. He was used to other men bristling with inferiority, but Summers was a big deal, so why?
Jack didn’t like him; that was why. Egos like his were used to adulation. Did the guy honestly think that he deserved admiration from Jack? His daughter had died in his house. His granddaughter had almost died. Somehow Emily had been painted as the villain. He resented that.
There was no quietness in this man, no reflective sorrow. Everything bounced off him. His investigators had hit a lot of brick.
They were still working on it. Not fast enough.
And now he had taken Claudia.
Jack had never been a father-in-law. Did it always feel like two magnets fighting over gravity?
He lit a cigarette and nodded to his detail. The happy couple had gone; most guests were still partying. Innocence was in a corner, harassing George Clooney.
He needed a moment.
His special day.
That was a dig.
The guy was taunting him about the loss of his daughter. Which?
Hadn’t she arrived only yesterday? That blissful click of connection as their eyes met – who would think that such a fat little chunk of humanity could blow your whole world? It was the first baby you remembered. After that it became a blur. The first baby redefined the nature of love.
How had it gone so wrong?
‘Ms Green?’
‘Sir.’
‘Remind me. When did we get Claudia?’
He didn’t have to edit himself with Ms Green. The clumsi
ness of his words did not mirror the nature of his emotion and she understood this. He didn’t remember dates and it was her fault for remembering everything.
She paused. ‘Nearly thirty-two years ago, sir. Twenty-first of February. It was a Friday.’
He smiled at her. The funny thing was, Ms Green wasn’t even working for him when he’d got Claudia. She was still the Cannadines’ nanny back then. Inwardly, Jack shuddered, as ever when he had this thought. Stealing Nanny Green to be his PA was probably what had marked the start of his moral collapse. And yet he didn’t regret it. There had been mitigating circumstances – his wife had just died. Harry had forgiven him, even if the old boot still bore a grudge.
‘How do you remember that it was a Friday?’
‘The rhyme, sir. Its words applied to all your children – both of your children. Emily was born on a Monday.’
There was a buzzing in his head. ‘What rhyme?’
She cleared her throat:
‘Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving …’
‘All of my children?’ he said. His head was thick.
He looked at Ms Green. She looked down at her neat brown lace-up shoes. Very softly, she said, ‘Wednesday’s child is full of woe.’
MARINA DEL REY, 11.30 P.M.
Innocence
It was a dilemma. The primal urge to boast about your grandchildren to … George Clooney!
She liked to believe that nothing was impossible, but the odds were thin. That waitress was hanging around like a cold sore on a lip.
‘Nanny!’
‘Yes, Miss Ashford.’
Australians. ‘Nanny, where are the littlies? They haven’t gone to bed without saying goodnight?’
‘No, Miss Ashford, they’re with Claudia.’
‘Why on earth would they be with Claudia?’
‘They’re putting rose petals on the bed.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘It’s an English tradition? When you get hitched, the kids decorate the honeymoon suite for the wedding night?’
‘Are you asking me or telling me?’
‘Mr Summers said it was a surprise for Claudia.’
‘It’s a surprise for me, because I didn’t—George, you’re going? – I suppose it is late, but do call if you – Yes, goodbye, darling – Spyglass Island – Goodbye.’
Now she was in a bad mood.
‘Nanny, what’s going on? I’ve never heard of such a tradition – and now that I do, I don’t like the sound of it. A two-year-old, what were you thinking? And look at the time. It’s nearly midnight, they’ll be exhausted. This is ridiculous. How are they getting back? Why on earth didn’t you ask my permission?’
‘Mr Summers – I thought – Mark said he’d drop them—’
‘Out of a window? Are you crazy?’
‘Miss Ashford, I’m so sorry – I … Mr Summers is going to be their father now, so I assumed if he said it was OK, and that you’d OKed it—’
‘Stop talking. Be quiet. You’re annoying me. Go away.’
Her head felt full of white noise. It wasn’t Nanny’s fault, not really. Ethan was persuasive and important – no wonder she’d agreed. It was a sweet gesture; he knew how Claudia adored those little ones. Presumably, Mark wouldn’t drop them back to the hotel – they might as well sleep at the Malibu house. The newlyweds were jetting off the next day – Nanny could pick up the kids in the morning.
There was Brad. She might have another glass of champagne.
Jack
At the moment of clarity, he saw his life as if he were looking down from the sky on a stupid little ant.
It was amazing that you thought you were intelligent and yet you only saw what you wanted to see. You thought you were a harsh judge of yourself, but in fact you were a favourable critic. That kid had obsessed about you ever since you had shut the door on him and forgotten his existence.
It didn’t matter though, if the monster had been born or created. He had – oh God – murdered Emily, and Maria, now he had Claudia. There was no time to think, no time for self-hatred and regret, he had to act. He had to do something. He had to save his daughter.
He leaped up, the blood pulsing hard and hot. ‘Innocence,’ he shouted, ‘Innocence.’ He pulled at her shoulder, spilling her drink. She turned, furious; her face changed when she saw his expression. ‘I know. I know who he is – it’s him,’ he said. ‘It’s the boy.’
She shook her head, not understanding.
‘Nathan – the boy who went back. Ethan, he’s the one, he’s psychotic, he’s the guy – he’s got Claudia.’
Her face paled. ‘He’s got Molly and George.’
His legs turned to rubber. He wasn’t the man, in a town of make-believe heroes; he couldn’t even pretend. He was terrified. He was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to save them. Because he had to do this – the police – he couldn’t take the chance. Ethan was a Hollywood god. He didn’t have the time to convince people who might not be inclined to believe.
He could send in his security to do it for him. They had guns.
Jack was a powerful man, a man who could pay anyone to do anything for him – almost.
No.
Ethan wanted him.
And, fuck it, he wanted Ethan. He wanted to look that bastard in the eye as he knelt on his chest, put his hands round his neck and squeezed the life out of him.
It was his time.
He had to step up.
Innocence saw it in his eyes. ‘Let’s GO,’ she hissed.
He clenched his jaw. ‘Let’s go,’ he said.
Innocence
Oh, crazy. What did he want from them? He could have it all – she would give him every dollar, every cent.
‘It’s not about money,’ said Jack. ‘I wish it was.’
He turned off the engine, drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, and they looked towards the house. It was in darkness.
She was quiet. Didn’t every feel-good movie end with a kiss and a pot of money just so you felt comfortable?
She felt a cold, creeping anger mingle with the fear. He had turned off the engine. They were sitting in the car, helpless. Their plan to ‘break in’ seemed foolish. Ethan Summers would not have stinted on security. He probably had armed guards stationed at every entrance, with instructions to shoot intruders dead on sight.
Jack had driven like a maniac (through panic, or lack of practice, she wasn’t sure which) but now what? She had forbidden him to tell his security the situation – the guy would want to call for back-up. Ethan would not react well to a direct threat of violence. She couldn’t take the risk.
Suddenly, the car was bathed in a harsh white light. She gasped. Flashbulbs, popping, again and again. They were surrounded.
‘It’s the in-laws!’ one of the snappers yelled. ‘Come to check she’s still a virgin!’ The photographers swarmed around the car.
‘Fuck!’ screamed Jack. ‘Shut up!’
For a second, she was speechless with shock that this could happen. These morons had ruined everything. Now Ethan knew they were here.
Of course he did!
Who was she kidding? If Ethan didn’t want them here, he wouldn’t be here. The kids would be in Mexico.
‘Get out of the car,’ she told Jack. ‘We’re going to walk right in the front door.’
Smiling, Innocence opened the car door. ‘Good evening. Yes, guilty as charged! We’ve come to collect our grandchildren so the newlyweds can get some peace, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. Hello, Charlie, hello, Max – did your wife? … A girl, congratulations. Now don’t be too hard on poor Jack. He’s terribly afraid of all you big men – not you, Curtis, you need to go back to school and finish your education. We won’t be long. You can have one nice family shot, and then we can all salvage a night’s
sleep, how about it?’
She looked at Jack. ‘We’ll see,’ she added.
She pressed the buzzer at the gates.
Nothing.
She pressed again.
Slowly, very slowly, the gates whirred open.
She felt like a fly walking into a web. The worst thing was, she knew this was Ethan’s finest hour. This was what he had been working towards for all his life. He would kill them all, and if he had to die with them, he would. That indifference was his real source of power.
When they finally reached the main door, it was pulled open. ‘You’re just in time,’ said Ethan with a smile. With a lurch, she saw the gun. ‘It’s only taken you twenty-eight years! Please take off your shoes; we don’t want you walking dirt on the carpet. And if it’s not too much bother, kindly allow Mark to bleep you! A concealed weapon – oh, Jack, did that big Mary lend you his gun? How sweet. Thank you, Mark, although I’m tempted to give it back to him. I can’t imagine he knows how to fire it. Anyway, do come up to the bedroom. I’m about to get George acquainted with the birds and bees. Do you like to watch?’
She was resolved to say nothing, do nothing, react to nothing until the children were in her sight. Until that point, any action was futile. She swallowed her nausea.
‘You evil f—’
She didn’t have time to tell Jack, no.
He launched himself at Ethan with a roar. Ethan took a neat step back, hunched his shoulders in a wince, and shot Jack in the foot.
Jack screamed and collapsed, gasping, writhing. He was on the floor, choking in agony, his eyes wild with terror. Don’t cry, she told herself, don’t make a sound. She wanted to gibber like a chimp but she wouldn’t. Biting her lip, trembling, she slowly pulled off Jack’s tie, wrapped it around his foot, trying to staunch the gushing blood. Her hands were covered in fresh red blood, and the soft sound of Jack’s moans made her want to vomit, more so than the wound itself, a neat round hole where the bullet had gone in. The exit wound near his ankle was bigger, messier, and the skin around it was torn and raw.