Deceit

by KERRY BARNES

  Dear Kara,

  Under the present circumstances, Justin has instructed me to oversee the legalities regarding the separation for both parties. In order that the house is either sold or solely owned by either yourself or Justin, he has asked for a valuation to be carried out.

  Of course, there is no hurry, and you are welcome to remain there as long as necessary. Please could you let me know when you will be available to show an estate agent around?

  Yours sincerely

  Lucas

  Shaking her head and fingering the letter, she replied, ‘No, I didn’t receive this letter. I’ve never seen it.’ She looked at the date and frowned. ‘Hang on, this is not right. The fire …’ She paused, feeling a deep sadness and regret, not being able to bring herself to say, ‘when I burned the house down …’

  He urged her to go on.

  ‘That letter is dated the day of the fire, so if it was sent, the earliest I would have received it would be the next day, surely? And the letter I received was sent in the post … I think.’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, Kara, this is the strange part about it because those were my thoughts exactly. So, I called Justin’s lawyer and asked him if the date was correct. He informed me that he’d drawn up the letter and sent one to Justin for his approval four days before the fire. However, he then drew up the official letter on the day of the fire, and it lay on his desk awaiting confirmation from Justin to send it, which he never gave. Therefore, if the secretary posted the letter by mistake, you would have received it at least two days after the fire and possibly even later.’

  Kara was going over in her head the ramifications of how the letter could have been delivered two days after the fire. There would have been very little of the former house left to deliver it to.

  ‘I checked with the post office. There are letters they have kept back for obvious reasons, but not one from the solicitor. So, I’m as confused on this matter as you appear to be. However, this is where the problem begins. Without that letter, we will have difficulty proving you acted with temporary insanity. That letter you say you received could have pushed you over the edge and possibly helped to provide a reason to commit the crime, so, without it, we are hard-pressed to get you off, and more problematic, newspaper headlines such as “Mrs Langley fighting for her life” will resonate in the jury’s minds.’

  Covering her face with her hands, Kara felt almost strangled by the lump in her throat. She could accept her punishment, but her baby shouldn’t have to suffer, growing up inside a cell or being taken from her. She fought back the tears and removed her hands to reveal the grief-stricken expression.

  Stuart was struck by the sadness and desolation in her eyes. Normally, if he gave a client bad news, especially in prison, he would receive a barrage of abuse and demands of ‘well, do something’, but Kara just nodded, accepting her fate. It saddened him because she clearly was one person who didn’t belong there, and he hoped the judge would see what he saw.

  ‘Stuart, I know I have to face what is coming my way, but do you think I could ask a huge favour? You see, I think I can handle being in here, but it’s my mother …’

  He leaned forward on his chair. ‘What about her?’ He asked so gently that it caused a fat tear to trickle down her face.

  ‘She lives in Australia, and well, every time I call to see how she is, there’s no answer. I spoke with her carer the other day, but since then, I’ve heard nothing, and I have no way of knowing what’s going on. Can you help me? She’s sick, you see.’ She kept the request simple, not wanting to discuss the very strange conversation she’d had with the person she presumed was the carer.

  His heart went out to her, and he knew only too well what that felt like. He had lost his mother only a year ago, and he was so distraught, he worked every hour to avoid thinking about it. Obviously, this was outside his normal professional remit, yet a call wouldn’t hurt, if it put his client’s mind at rest. At this stage in her case, he was her only link to the outside world.

  ‘What’s her number and her address? I will make enquiries and let you know.’ He could tell she was distrusting and of course she would be. He’d read the case notes, and for a young woman with so much going for her to end up in prison, he would be surprised if she didn’t hate the world right now. He stood up to leave. ‘I came today to introduce myself and to ask about the letter. Now, it’s Monday, today. I will be back on Thursday to go over the details of your case in full. Sorry this is such a short visit, but we will have more time on Thursday.’

  She smiled generously, wiped away the tears, and stood up to shake his hand. His eyes were drawn to her protruding stomach, which had been hidden behind the table. She wasn’t overweight, but how could he be sure? Then, he saw her hand stroke the bump.

  ‘Are you expecting?’ he asked, and then he wished he hadn’t. It was unprofessional, and yet, he felt the strange urge to befriend her.

  ‘Yes, a little girl. Oh, you won’t say anything? I mean, Justin doesn’t know, and to be honest, I don’t want him to. You see, he left me because he got a woman pregnant, and they’re now living together.’

  ‘Yes, I know, I read his statement.’ He sat back down, not ready to leave. This news was a surprise. It would no doubt help her case enormously; hormones could play a major role in a case.

  ‘So, you were pregnant when the fire happened, then?’ He didn’t like to say, ‘when you burned the house down’.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s why I also lost my job. I suppose I was feeling so sick all the time, and I assumed I was ill. I remember, I seemed to cry constantly, and then, when Justin left and that letter arrived, I just saw red. I’d never felt like that before. It’s hard to explain. It was like it wasn’t me.’

  Stuart nodded. ‘Well, you know, Kara, it will all come out in court, and I’m afraid you cannot hide the signs.’ He looked at her midriff.

  She eased herself back on the chair. ‘I don’t want him to know because he obviously loves this other woman. I know what he did was wrong, by going off with her, but he is a good man, and I don’t want to get in his way. The baby and I will be fine.’

  Stuart felt his stomach turn over because he knew exactly what would happen. ‘Kara, do you have any other family … in the UK?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, no one. It was only Justin and me, and, of course, his mother.’

  Chewing the inside of his lip, he worried over how to approach the issue of the baby. ‘Look, Kara, your situation before the fire may influence the judge, and he or she may reduce your sentence by a few years, say from five to two years. We won’t be looking at a life sentence luckily because Mrs Langley didn’t die. But, I cannot guarantee you will be out within eighteen months, and at that point, the baby will be taken in by social services … You do know that, don’t you? Have they told you this?’ He cocked his head to the side, concerned that she would face an unthinkable situation.

  The blood drained from her face, and he could see she was visibly shaking.

  ‘Oh, Jesus, has no one told you?’

  Slowly, with her eyes full of tears, she shook her head. ‘Yes, Stuart, they told me, but what can I do? I can’t let them take her. She is all I have in this world.’

  ‘As I intimated, you will be able to keep the baby for a year and a half or so, but then they will find her a home, a foster home, until you are out. But, I have to be honest, it’s not that easy to get the baby back. Kara, try to think who could take the child on until you are released and settled.’

  * * *

  His departure was a blur. She was too numb from the harrowing experience to think straight, but that was exactly what she needed to do. Vic and Deni were awaiting her return, anxious to hear what her barrister had to say. But, by the time she reached her cell, her face was white, and the little make-up she’d worn for Stuart’s visit had been ruined by her tears. Deni jumped up from the bed and placed an arm around Kara’s shoulders and guided her inside. ‘Sit yaself down. Let me make a brew.’ She’d
sensed that the brief had burdened her with bad news.

  ‘What’s he say, babe?’ asked Vic, in her kindest tone.

  ‘Social services will take my baby after about eighteen months and foster her out.’ Her bottom lip quivered, and more tears tumbled down her cheeks.

  Vic felt her throat tighten; she was looking at a face that would have melted anyone’s heart. That look of deep sadness was heartbreaking.

  Deni spun around. ‘Aw, fuck me, haven’t they told you anything about how it works in ’ere?’

  Kara shook her head. ‘I knew it might happen, but I hoped it wouldn’t. I didn’t even think that if I get more than two years, they will take …’ She couldn’t bear to say the words.

  Vic reached across and grabbed her hand. ‘Listen, Kara. Don’t you go worrying about all that now. We will sort you out.’

  ‘How, though, Vic? I have no one, I mean no one, to look after my baby.’

  ‘What about your mum? I know she’s poorly, but she may help ya, you know, between her and a carer.’

  Kara glanced up. ‘No way, she’s not capable.’ She realised she sounded abrupt and instantly transformed her expression. Upsetting her friends wasn’t called for.

  Vic shot Deni a look. ‘Deni?’

  ‘Listen, my babe, I know you don’t want this Justin fella to know, but … well, maybe he should know. Perhaps he could take over until you do get released. Let’s not get carried away. We’re talking as if you will get a long bird. Let’s just wait until after the trial. The judge might only give you six months.’

  Kara realised that going on about it and passing her worries on to her friends wouldn’t change anything, so she smiled, trying to hide the torment, and graciously took the cup of tea from Deni’s shaking hands. She was just grateful she had friends. And they were right: she had to get the court case over and done with first.

  Chapter 12

  Justin sat in his office, staring at the pile of invoices. As much as he had to get stuck into the accounts, his mind just kept wandering off. It was no use; he had to call his mother. She’d left umpteen messages to return her calls, and he could only assume that somehow the news had reached her ears. She wasn’t one for listening to the news or even buying a newspaper. Fortunately for him, he usually got away with texting every so often, or otherwise she would have discerned something was seriously wrong. However, had Justin thought about it, he would have realised that ignoring her calls would make her anxious.

  He pulled out his mobile phone from the inside of his jacket pocket and stared for a while at his mother’s number, before he called her. Instantly, she answered, as if she already had the phone in her hands. ‘Justin!’ she almost screamed.

  ‘Mum, how are you?’

  Her morning voice was gravelly. ‘Where are you, Justin?’

  He paused. Did she mean where was he living or where was he now?

  ‘At work,’ he decided to answer.

  ‘Right, drop what you are doing and get here this instant!’

  He’d never heard her so cross, and in all his years, she’d never put a demand on him.

  ‘Mum, I can’t just leave work.’

  ‘Justin, you are the bloody boss. I will not take no for an answer.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.’

  ‘Good,’ was all she said, before replacing the receiver.

  Nervously, he tidied his desk, thinking about how he would explain the situation to his mother. It had been months now and delaying the inevitable had only made matters so much worse. His dear mother would be hurt that she was the last to know. Yet it was guilt and embarrassment that had driven him to hide it from her.

  The drive was quicker than expected; he’d missed the rush hour and was able to get a clear run. Reluctantly, he pulled up outside his mum’s three-bedroom semi in Lenham – a pretty house with an abundance of carefully pruned bushes that framed the meandering footpath. Normally, he would get a warm feeling as he walked towards the red-painted front door, because it was the home in which he’d grown up. Not today, though. Today, he was going to have to break the news of his complete cock-up, his life-changing mistake.

  His mother had the door open before he even put the key in the lock.

  Mollie stepped aside, but right away, she noticed the expression on her son’s face. Her anger subsided when she saw how sad he appeared, and so her initial intention of tearing him off a strip was put on hold.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Justin watched her waddle off in her carpet slippers and pink tabard that she rarely took off unless she was out shopping. The living room hadn’t changed in ten years: the walls were still coated in magnolia paint and the beige carpet was immaculately clean. The brown Dralon three-piece suite, with throws draped neatly on the arms, was placed facing the flame-effect electric fire.

  He looked up at the wooden framed photo of him and Kara on holiday. His mother had hung it above the fireplace, for all to see. He stared at it all the while she was making the tea and tried to think of the right words he would use to explain his predicament.

  ‘Here, Son, did you want something to eat?’

  He waved his hand, dismissing the idea, and then his eyes met hers, as she sat on her usual chair opposite him. At sixty-two years old, Mollie was a real mumsy woman. Her hair was kept short for ease and she wore no make-up, apart from on special occasions. Her thick frame and soft grey eyes were open and shone against her rosy cheeks. She was always wringing her hands on her apron after any chore in the house, and she eagerly fussed over her visitors, with offers of homemade food and endless cups of tea.

  And then there were all the other offers before he’d had a chance to sit down. They weren’t long in coming this morning. ‘Shall I turn the heating up? Are you warm enough? Do you want a cushion?’

  ‘No, Mum, no to all those. Look, I’m sorry, Mum—’

  ‘Stop, Justin, I know what’s happened because I had a visit from your old school friend, Joshua’s mother, Iris. Gawd, she couldn’t wait to bring the gossip to my door. She even slapped the bleedin’ newspaper cutting under my nose. What was worse was, I couldn’t even answer her because, Son, I am obviously the last one to know.’ She stopped, to gasp for breath. ‘So where is Kara now?’

  Justin bowed his head. ‘In prison.’

  ‘I know that, Justin – Iris told me everything – but which prison? I can’t have that poor girl inside without letting her know I’m here if she needs me. She’s like a daughter to me and …’ She paused, choking back the tears. ‘And to think of her inside a prison. Oh my goodness, she must be …’ She stopped and swallowed hard, before saying, ‘And how is Joan? Have you spoken to her?’

  Justin frowned. So much had happened that Joan had gone out of his head; besides, he would be the last person Kara’s mum wanted to speak to right now. ‘Well, Mum, no I haven’t.’

  ‘Well, she’s obviously very angry because she hasn’t called me or answered my calls, and we always speak once a month. She likes to hear how you two are doing. She sent me a text, months back. It’s strange because she rarely sends text messages. She knows and so do you that I’m bloody useless when it comes to these new-fangled gadgets. Mind you, that’s all we ever do these days, so I feel like I’m becoming a dab hand. Anyway, I managed to return the text, but I haven’t heard anything since.’

  Justin would usually have laughed at his mum and teased her, but not today. Mollie shuffled in her chair and looked her son over. ‘So,’ she sighed heavily.

  Justin looked into his cup of tea and shook his head. ‘I messed up, Mum, and the truth of it is, I don’t even know how or why. I loved Kara—’

  ‘Loved?’ questioned Mollie.

  ‘Um, well, I still do, but …’

  She could see his bottom lip quivering.

  ‘When Kara was away on one of her work trips, I met this woman … Lucy. I got so drunk, I didn’t realise I’d had so much. I don’t remember anything, and then I woke up in her bed. Stupidly, it�
�s happened twice and …’ he hesitated ‘… she ended up pregnant.’ There, he’d said it.

  ‘So? That doesn’t mean you have to stay with her. Aw, for Christ’s sake, Son, I have moved with the times you know. This happens all too often. I don’t know if kids today know what it’s like to have a mum and dad. It’s all stepmum this and stepdad that.’

  ‘Well, that may be so, but I don’t want my son growing up without his father.’

  Mollie’s eyes widened. ‘A son? How do you know?’

  He waved his hand again. ‘The scan picture showed it’s a boy. Mum, she wants to meet you. It might be an idea to get to know her before the baby arrives. It’s not that far off now.’ He didn’t have the exact date but he’d worked it out for himself. It was five months ago when he’d woken up in her bed.

  Mollie was caught between a rock and a hard place. She loved her son more than life itself and was relieved he hadn’t been hurt, but she also adored Kara, who’d always been the perfect daughter-in-law, and there was no way that this Lucy could fill Kara’s shoes, not in a million years. ‘Have you been to see Kara? How is she?’

  ‘No! Of course not, so I haven’t a clue!’ he replied, with a sharp tongue.

  ‘You heartless sod. If that’s how you are now, then no wonder she burned the bloody house down. I would have done the same.’

  Placing his cup on the coaster, Justin looked up. ‘You would? What, you don’t think she’s a bit cuckoo?’

  Mollie frowned and jolted her head as if to say, ‘You what?’

  ‘Cuckoo, no, Son. Upset, heartbroken, distraught, or devastated, yes, but cuckoo, no.’ She felt her anger rise. ‘And as much as I love you, Justin, I think what you’ve done is terrible. I’m surprised that Kara didn’t run a knife through your chest, as I might have done.’ She thought back to when Justin’s father ran off with her former best friend, leaving her alone with a baby and debts that led to her becoming temporarily homeless. ‘Jesus Christ, what is the matter with you? Oh, let me flaming well guess. This Lucy is filling your head with shit about Kara, isn’t she? I know, Son, because I’m a woman and you are a sucker. I don’t blame Kara for burning the place down, and as for meeting Lucy, well, no, not until I’ve seen my daughter-in-law.’