by Amy Cross
“Would anyone like some more wine?” Herbert asked suddenly, interrupting her. “It's from a wonderful case of rioja I imported last summer.”
“None for me, thanks,” Jo replied.
“Don't mind if I do,” Nick said, downing what he had left before holding his glass out toward Herbert. “It's good stuff, that. I'll have to have a look for some in the supermarket.”
“I doubt you'll find anything quite like this in a supermarket,” Herbert said dourly, as he poured a small amount into Nick's glass. “I was only able to get hold of a case thanks to some family connections.”
“Might as well give me a double,” Nick told him. “Save yourself some elbow work in a few minutes.”
Herbert hesitated, before adding some more wine to the glass.
“Are you alright?” Diana whispered, leaning toward Rachel as the girl continued to twist in her chair. “If you need the bathroom, just excuse yourself.”
“It's not that,” Rachel replied, grimacing slightly. “I'm just itchy because of the worms.”
Diana's eyes opened wider than ever.
“Didn't I mention that I've got worms?” Rachel continued with a smile, before looking at everyone else on the table. “Well, you try living rough for several years in the middle of London, and see if you end up with a bunch of thread-worms taking up residence in your guts. Trust me, the itching's enough to drive you crazy, and it's even worse at night. I'm constantly scratching my -”
“Well, we'll get you something for that, won't we?” Herbert said firmly, before clearing his throat. “There's no need for us to discuss our intimate problems at the dinner table.”
“Have you really got worms?” Nick whispered, leaning toward Rachel.
Still smiling, she nodded.
“Nasty,” he continued, with a hint of awe in his voice. “I had that when I was a kid. Very itchy. I'd hate to get worms again.”
“In that case,” Rachel replied, “maybe I should have washed before I shook your hand earlier.”
He opened his mouth to make a joke, before looking down at his hands with a hint of disgust. Rachel, meanwhile, was all smiles as she turned to ensure that her comments had disgusted both Herbert and Diana.
“I understand,” Herbert said dourly, turning to Jo, “that my dear sister and her companion decided to hire you in an investigatory capacity. I'm sorry to inform you that your efforts are quite unnecessary. Please let me know what you are owed, and I shall ensure that you are fully paid before you leave this evening. After that, I'm sure you'll understand that we would prefer to be left alone. My wife and I have our daughter back, and we cannot have any distractions while we deal with this joyous development.”
“I'm the one who hired Miss Mason,” Margaret pointed out, her voice trembling just a little. “I'm the only one who can tell her to end her work.”
“My sister is a meddler,” Herbert continued, “and I'm afraid that sometimes she really doesn't know when to stop. She has to be told.”
“And yet I am the one who hired Miss Mason,” Margaret added, “so really, it's nobody's business but my own whether she continues to look into these matters.”
“Oh, for God's sake,” Diana muttered, turning to her, “do you ever listen to yourself?”
“She's my family too!” Margaret snapped.
“She's my bloody daughter!” Diana shouted, getting to her feet. “Do you think I give a damn what you think about anything?”
“Calm down,” Herbert said with a sigh. “Please, both of you...”
“No, I'm sick of this!” Diana continued, tossing her cutlery onto the table. “Margaret, I don't know if you think you've been subtle over the past few weeks, but your constant sniping and insinuations have become too much. You're a guest in this house, you're only allowed to stay here because Herbert and I feel sorry for you and because we don't want you to be alone, but in return we expect some basic decorum. If you can't welcome Rachel back into the home with a little grace, then I think it might be better if you were to find somewhere else to live!”
Margaret stared up at her for a moment, before bursting into tears and rushing from the table.
“It's okay!” Bradley called out as he hurried after her. “I'm sure she didn't mean any of that! Tempers are just running a little high, that's all!”
“That woman has been driving me up the wall,” Diana said as she sat back down. Her hands were shaking now, and she seemed completely flustered. “God knows, I've put up with her rubbish for long enough. Maybe it's time she moved out. God, I need a gin and tonic. Won't somebody bring me a goddamn drink?”
“I told you they're fun,” Rachel said, smiling at Jo.
“Perhaps this was not the best evening for company,” Herbert sighed.
“I'm still interested in where you've been, Rachel,” Jo said. “Do you know who stole you from your parents?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied calmly, meeting her gaze, “I do.”
“The past is the past,” Herbert suggested. “The future is far more important.”
“Have you told anyone yet?” Jo continued.
“Not a soul,” Rachel replied.
“And why's that?”
“I just haven't felt that the time is right. What with one thing and another, I really haven't felt ready to talk about something that's so utterly distressing. I mean, it wasn't exactly cake and biscuits out there. My time on the street in London was hell, and before that...” She paused for a moment, eyeing Jo as if she was searching for a particular, desired reaction. “Well, let's just say that before the London streets, I was somewhere else. I had food and shelter, though, and nobody fiddled with me. I know that's what people want to ask.”
“Is your kidnapper still alive?”
“That's a very good question.”
“Don't you want him to face justice?”
“I think there are many, many definitions of justice, Miss Mason. Or can I call you Jo?”
“You can call me whatever you want. I just want to know the truth.”
As she said those words, Jo realized that the others at the table had all fallen silent. Herbert and Diana were looking down at their plates, as if frozen in anticipation, while Nick seemed to be hanging on every word that was being spoken.
“I think justice is a nebulous term,” Rachel said finally, breaking the silence. “There's justice that's quick and neat and decisive, and then there's the kind of justice that takes hold like rot.” She glanced first at Diana, then at Herbert, and finally back at Jo. “I'm a fan of the longer-term approach. It's a lot more fun. The guilty are forced to twist for a lot longer.”
“Maybe it's not supposed to be fun,” Jo pointed out.
“Maybe. I never claimed to be an expert.”
“Perhaps we should think about dessert,” Herbert suggested finally, as he set his knife and fork on his plate. “We can offer several options, such as -”
“Maybe you should check which ones Miss Mason can eat,” Rachel continued, interrupting him while keeping her eyes fixed on Jo. “Does cancer medication conflict with any member of the cake family?”
Jo opened her mouth to reply, before realizing that Herbert and Diana were now staring at her.
“What kind of cancer is it, anyway?” Rachel asked, leaning back in her chair with a smile. “Sorry, I saw your medication boxes last night, and I checked them out later online. You must be very sick, maybe even beyond the point of no return. I imagine you feel nauseous a lot of the time, too, and I bet there are plenty of other side effects too.” She paused, as if to let her words sink in for effect. “Sorry, I hope you didn't mind that I mentioned all that.”
“Not at all,” Jo replied through gritted teeth, aware that Nick was staring at her with a shocked expression.
“So where is it?” Rachel asked. “Brain? Liver? Blood? Stomach?”
“It's complicated.”
“A little of all four? Has it spread?”
“I might use your bathroom,” Jo said sudde
nly, getting to her feet. “Please excuse me for a couple of minutes.”
“I don't know how someone can live with that kind of death sentence hanging over their head,” Rachel said, turning to her parents. “I suppose you have to be very strong, although there has to come a point where you end up crumbling. Then again, maybe you put on a brave face in public and save the crumbling until you're back at home and out of sight. There'll be time for years in the hospice. That's where people end up when they're dying of cancer, isn't it? Zonked out on pain medication in some care home somewhere, having their nappies changed?”
Preferring not to respond, Jo headed toward the door.
“How long do you have left?” Rachel asked. “A year? Six months?”
Stopping for a moment, Jo half-turned, considering whether to simply be honest. Realizing that the girl was simply trying to get a rise out of her, however, she forced herself to keep going, heading along the corridor and away from the lights, into the darker part of the house.
Back at the table, Rachel looked at each of the others in turn.
“What?” she asked finally. “Isn't it always best to be honest and open about these things? I thought everyone here was very keen on the truth.”
Chapter Eighteen
15 years ago
“It's raining,” Margaret said as she stood at the back door, looking out at the dark garden. Spots of rain had begun to fall on the glass, and after a moment she turned the handle and pushed the door open, before reaching a hand out. “God, it's cold too.”
“Not the kind of weather for anyone to be out in, then,” Herbert muttered from his place at the head of the table. He kept his eyes on Diana, who was sitting at the other end and seemed simply to be staring down at her full, untouched plate.
“There's a strong wind picking up, too,” Margaret continued. “God -”
“That's enough of that,” Herbert added. “Shut the door. You're letting the heat out.”
“But -”
“I'm the one who pays the bills, aren't I? So shut that bloody door.”
Margaret pulled the door shut and turned the key, before wandering back over toward the table. She, like her brother, couldn't help watching Diana carefully, as if she was searching for some hint of a reaction. Diana had remained almost catatonic for several days now, ever since Rachel's disappearance, and she'd already endured another full day of questioning by the police. The officers' questions had become more focused and more specific, almost as if they were a little more concerned about her answers.
“You should eat,” Margaret told her finally. “You need your strength.”
Diana muttered something under her breath, but her voice was too low for anyone to hear.
“What was that?” Margaret asked.
Diana muttered again, but if anything her words were even harder to make out now.
“You need -”
“The woman will eat when she wants to eat,” Herbert said firmly. “Perhaps guilt is affecting her appetite.”
At this, finally, Diana looked over at her husband. After staring at him with an expression of horror for a moment, she suddenly got to her feet and mumbled something else as she hurried from the room.
“Wasn't that a little cruel?” Margaret asked. “Herbert, you can be a bastard sometimes.”
“The police know it was her,” he replied darkly, watching the empty doorway for a moment before turning to his sister. “They haven't said as much, but it's clear from the way they've been acting. It won't be much longer before they become more forceful. Perhaps they'll even take her to the station for questioning. The truth will all come tumbling out eventually, one way or another.”
“It almost sounds as if you want your wife to be responsible.”
“It's not a matter of what I want. It's a matter of finding Rachel.”
“I hope it's not Diana who took her somewhere,” Margaret replied, looking toward the window and seeing that the rain had already begun to worsen. “After five nights out there, the poor child... Well, you know what I mean. I imagine her chances are diminishing with each passing hour and...”
Her voice trailed off, and then she took her napkin and used it to wipe a couple of tears from her eyes.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “deliver Rachel back to us unharmed, and we shall speak ceaselessly to others of your wonderful -”
“Oh, cut that out,” Herbert sneered.
“It's as good as anything else!”
“It's superstitious nonsense!” Leaning back in his chair, he sighed, while keeping his gaze fixed on Margaret for a moment. “One day this will all be over, you know,” he continued finally. “Things can't continue with Diana, not like this. My marriage is effectively on borrowed time, regardless of what happens next with poor Rachel. Once Diana is out of the way, I shall be free to devote my attention to more important matters. I shall be able to do the things I should have done a long time ago, before I allowed myself to become distracted.”
“And what might those be?” Margaret asked, looking down at her food and starting to cut a slice from the steak on her plate.
Herbert hesitated, before getting to his feet and making his way around the table. Stopping behind his sister, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
“We shall be alone in the house once Diana is out of the way,” he explained, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Just you and I. And Rachel, if we're lucky.”
“That sounds... different,” she replied cautiously.
“Perhaps it's how things should always have been,” he continued. “Diana was a distraction. A mistake. I need a woman who's stronger and more resilient, someone who's able to play her proper role in a marriage. Or if not in a marriage, then at least in the household.” He paused, before leaning down a little and taking a deep breath. The scent of her shampoo sent a shudder through his chest. “Do you remember how good things used to be? In our childhood, I mean. When it was just you and me.”
“Our parents were around.”
“We avoided them.”
“And Jack was around too.”
“We avoided him too.”
“I think you're looking at the past through rose-tinted glasses,” she continued, clearly ill at ease as her brother's hands remained resting on her shoulders. “Life wasn't perfect.”
“It wasn't chaotic, either. There was none of Diana's drama.” He paused. “How would it be, do you think, if Diana were to go away, and you and I were to raise Rachel together?”
“The girl needs her mother.”
“She needs a mother. She's too young to tell the difference between one breast and another.”
“She might when...” Margaret took a deep breath, before reaching up and brushing Herbert's hands from her shoulders. He immediately put them back, of course, and this time she knew not to try again. After a moment, she felt his hands sliding down to her waist. “I think you're getting ahead of yourself,” she continued. “You're making assumptions that you have no right to make. Why, Rachel might be returned this evening, and then everything will go back to normal.”
“That will not happen.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Trust me.”
“But -”
“Trust me, woman.”
She paused again. “Do you know something, Herbert?” she asked finally, her voice filled with tension.
“Such as?”
“I can't imagine. Just something that perhaps you haven't told anyone else.”
“The family business rests heavy on my shoulders,” he replied. “Father's will was quite specific. Only a blood descendant can wield power, which rules you out. It rules Jack out, too. I'm the only Stone by blood, and without me the entire fortune would crumble away. You know that, don't you?”
“Of course, but why are you -”
“I am the rock upon which this family rests,” he added. “I am its very foundation.”
“Are you drunk?”
“I see a f
uture for us, my dear. I see this house, filled with happiness.”
“That may well be, but -”
“You and me. Together at last. The way it was meant to be.”
He waited for an answer, and then he began to slide his left hand under the edge of Margaret's shirt. She let him, just for a moment, before finally stepping away. Clearly flustered, she made her way around to the other side of the table and then turned back to him.
“You're getting carried away again,” she said firmly. “We discussed this as children. Don't you remember? We agreed that what we'd done was wrong, and that we must never do it again. We promised we wouldn't even speak of it. Not to others, and not even to ourselves.”
“I tried to stick to that agreement,” he replied, “but over the years, I have come to realize that my feelings for you are stronger than mere lust.”
“Don't say that!”
“And I know that your feelings for me are the same.”
She shook her head.
“I see it in your eyes,” he continued. “Even now.”
“You see tiredness, Herbert, and concern for your missing daughter. For God's sake, it's raining outside!”
“You'll see the truth soon enough,” he told her. “We're in the middle of the maelstrom, but soon we'll emerge on the other side and you'll understand why I've done what I've done. It is the privilege of great men to see the future, Margaret, and I am a great man. Just trust me, and the future I have seen will come true. It's a future that I think you will very much enjoy.”
“We'll have to see about that,” she replied. “And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm afraid I've lost my appetite.”
With that, she turned and hurried out of the room, although she stopped as soon as she was safely around the next corner. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes and tried to calm her pounding heart, but in truth she could already feel her resolve starting to weaken. At the same time, a long-suppressed passion was starting to stir in her soul, and she already knew there was no way she'd be able to stay strong. The next time Herbert touched her, she would melt.
“God forgive me for my wickedness,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. “Help me fight this.”