Art ignores me, his eyes on the wing mirror. We are still some way in front of Morgan’s car, but its twin headlamps are visible as bright disks on the main road.
‘Jesus, Art.’ The words escape me in an angry burst. ‘She was your sister, for God’s sake.’
‘I know,’ Art says, his voice a mix of shame and defiance. ‘But you have to understand she was also beautiful and available and she didn’t feel like a sister. I didn’t even know her, remember?’ He pauses. ‘I’ve thought about it a lot, though, and mostly I think it was revenge.’
‘Revenge?’
‘On Brandon,’ he says. ‘My dad. Our dad. It took everything I had to get up the courage to knock on his door. I knew he’d think I was after money, and I said I wasn’t, straight off . . . but he just didn’t want to know.’ He hesitates. ‘The truth is I’d built him up in my head. I’d thought he was this great man . . . captain of industry . . . like he was some amazing guy who’d be delighted to meet his long-lost son. You know, like in a fairytale. I was so stupidly naive. And then, after he’d rejected me, I was so angry. You have no idea, Gen – I’ve never hated anyone like that in my life. I’d gone off the rails and hurt Mum by pushing things to the edge and it was only Kyle and his family looking after me that stopped me ending up in jail when I was sixteen . . . seventeen . . . I was still out of control – though I thought I was such a big man . . . I mean, I was already really screwed up, and Brandon acting like I was a piece of crap he was trying to wipe off his shoe made me even more screwed up. I stayed screwed up for years . . . until I started working in the City, really . . . then setting up Loxley Benson finally straightened me out, and by then I’d almost forgotten about Morgan and the abortion . . .’
‘But she hadn’t.’
‘She told me she was going to take our baby when she came to see us in that place we rented in Oxford. At first I thought it was a joke, then she told me how she’d already bribed Rodriguez, offered to give him enough money to retire on. And how she and Rodriguez had found a nurse and an anaesthetist to go along with the plan.’
‘So you knew she was serious.’
‘Yes.’ Art swings onto a much busier road than the one we were on before. The landscape is suddenly illuminated. I look around at the trees on either side of the road. Cars are visible both ahead and behind us. I check the wing mirror again. The 4x4 containing Morgan, Jared and Lorcan is just a few cars back. Is Art right that Morgan won’t hurt Lorcan until she’s got me back?
‘I told you, Lorcan will be fine as long as you’re alive.’ Art’s voice cuts sharply across my thoughts. Again, it strikes me how well we have come to know each other. And how little this fact has meant . . . how easily I have been kept in the dark . . .
‘He’s such a chancer, Gen,’ Art mutters.
‘You’ve got no right to judge Lorcan.’ I turn on him. ‘You’re a total hypocrite.’
Art rubs his temple. ‘You’re still my wife, Gen,’ he says. ‘He saw we were having problems and he leaped right in to—’
‘Having problems?’ I shake my head. ‘You can’t honestly—’
‘I mean that’s what Lorcan saw,’ Art says, ‘. . . back at the party. He’s a predator.’
‘Like with the client’s wife from years ago?’ I snarl. ‘No, Art. That was you.’
Art looks out of the window. The hedgerows speed past – blurs of shadow. It’s like the world is going on somewhere else, and in this car, for this moment, Art and I have been locked into hell together.
‘I didn’t force Lorcan into that lie,’ Art says softly. ‘He went along with it. I paid him and—’
‘God, you’re just like Morgan. Money this. Money that.’
Art shakes his head. I fall silent. I know that money isn’t the reason Art let Ed be taken away. He will never admit it, but Morgan was right. He gave up our son in order to save face, to retain status, to achieve his full potential as a business success.
Those were his priorities.
This is the man I married.
Here is our truth.
I sit back and stare out at the night sky – it’s dark with cloud. No stars. We approach a sign for Shepton Longchamp. We aren’t far from Morgan’s house.
‘So how are we going to do this exactly?’ I say. ‘Morgan’s not just going to let me take Ed – and what about Lorcan?’
‘I’ll help you get Ed into the car. I’ll help Lorcan get away, too . . . You’ll have to go away for a bit, let me sort things here.’
I stare at him. How does he possibly hope to accomplish all that? ‘Are you serious?’
‘Deadly serious,’ he says. ‘I can see now that it’s the only way to finish this.’ He pauses. ‘Are you in love with Lorcan?’
I say nothing. Art’s knuckles tighten on the wheel but he doesn’t speak and we drive on.
‘If I take Ed, Morgan will send that guy to kill me.’
‘Jared?’ Art nods. ‘That’s why you have to leave the country until I can take care of it.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Suppose you can’t take care of it?’
‘I will.’ Art sets his mouth in that determined line I know so well. I’m reminded of Ed again.
My instincts tell me Art is for real, that he wants to save me . . . to let me have Ed.
Art takes a right, then a left turn. We’re almost at the house.
‘You know I never wanted to hurt you, Gen,’ he says. ‘I only saw Ed every few weeks. We never went anywhere in public except around Shepton Longchamp – the little shops, the play park. It wasn’t like you think . . . like I had some alternative family going on . . .’
I bite down hard on my lip. We’re passing a street of semi-detached houses. A streak of cosy-looking living rooms flash by . . . a family around a table . . . two little kids bouncing on a sofa . . . a TV blaring out to a couple in matching armchairs.
Ordinary life.
That’s surely gone for me now, whatever happens.
If I take Ed – and if Art is wrong and he can’t deal with Jared when Morgan sends him after me – I’ll be in hiding for the rest of my life. Even if I can convince the police that Ed is mine and that I’m innocent of Bernard’s murder, I will lose everything I’ve ever cherished . . . my home, my family, my friends.
And Lorcan . . . supposing he survives all this too, would he really be prepared to give up everything and come with me and a child he has absolutely no connection to? We hardly know each other. And what about his life? His son? No, it’s impossible.
I’m so lost in these thoughts that it’s a shock to realize we’ve arrived at the house. Art slows the car and presses a key fob that opens the gates. We stop inside. Art gets out and strides to the front door. I follow as he lets himself in. As I pass the vase on the hall table I realize why it looked so familiar before. It’s the same as the one Morgan sent to our rented house in Oxford, when I was heavily pregnant. It arrived overflowing with beautiful white roses and I remember how deeply touched I was by her thoughtfulness, just as I was when she gave me the bracelet the other day. I shake my head, thinking back to those moments and the years in between and how many lies Art must have told me.
Art is pushing open doors, calling out for Ed and for the nanny, Kelly.
She appears from the kitchen, her hair pulled back off her face in a ponytail. She smiles when she sees Art.
‘Hiya,’ she says. ‘That was well heavy earlier. Ed woke up and I haven’t been able to get him back off. He’s in the playr—’ She catches sight of me standing behind Art and the smile vanishes. ‘What’s—?’
‘You have to go.’ He hands her a thick bundle of banknotes. ‘Grab your bag and get out. Is anyone else here?’
Kelly stares at him, her mouth falling open.
‘Kelly?’
‘No, there’s no one else here. Just me and Ed. I’ve been waiting for Mor—’
‘Go on, Kelly.’ Art gives her arm a gentle shake. ‘Leave. Now.’
Kelly looks at me again. ‘But I’m not
—’
‘Go!’ Art roars.
Kelly blinks rapidly, then backs away a few steps. She picks up a bag and coat from the bottom of the stairs then, still staring open-mouthed from me to Art, she scuttles through the front door.
Art marches through the kitchen to the door opposite the garage. Morgan’s blonde wig lies on the countertop where she left it earlier. I suddenly think of Charlotte West and my earlier suspicions. God, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Charlotte was simply a sad woman who thought she saw something to aspire to in my life – from my books and my hair and my handbag up to and including my husband. Like me, she has no idea who he really is.
I follow Art into the playroom.
It’s a big room – and quite different from the rest of the house, with bright blue paint on the walls and toy soldiers decorating the long curtains that hang either side of the French doors. Toys are strewn everywhere – there’s a full train-set laid out in one corner, a large box filled with action figures and plastic robots and a whole wall of shelves crammed with games and jigsaws. A huge TV stands in one corner and there’s a wooden playhouse opposite, complete with front door and tiny window.
Art heads straight to the playhouse. ‘Ed?’ he says.
‘Rah!’ Ed bursts out of the playhouse. He is tensed, his little hand clutching a toy sword. He doesn’t notice me. ‘Daddy!’ The tension fades from Ed’s face. He drops the sword and hurls himself into Art’s open arms.
‘Hey, buddy.’ Art picks up the little boy and hugs him tight. ‘You should be in bed.’
‘I was, but Mummy made me go too early,’ Ed says. ‘I woke up.’
I stand in the doorway and watch Ed’s chubby fingers clutch at Art’s hair, his face nuzzling into Art’s neck. Again, I’m filled with a love I didn’t even know was possible. It doesn’t matter what I have to give up. I can’t give up Ed.
It’s unthinkable.
And then he looks up and spies me at the door.
‘Daddy, it’s her,’ he whispers loudly, his eyes widening with fear.
Art turns and faces me. ‘This is . . .’ He falters.
‘I’m going to take you on a trip, Ed,’ I say.
Ed shakes his head. From outside, I hear the crunch of wheels on gravel. Morgan is here.
Art motions to the French doors. ‘You can get out to the front that way. Take Ed. Now.’
I move towards them, but Ed clings more tightly to Art.
‘No.’ His mouth forms that determined line I saw in the school playground. The resemblance between him and Art is even stronger than it was earlier. ‘No!’
‘Sssh.’ Art sounds desperate.
I look round. Morgan will have heard that. She’ll be here any second. There’s no time. I reach out for Ed’s arm. Ed kicks out with his bare foot, then clamps it back around Art’s waist. Art tries to disentangle him but every time he frees one limb, Ed clutches at Art with another. I step back, distraught.
For a second I see us as if from across the room – a parody of a loving family.
‘I want Mummy,’ Ed wails.
‘Mummy’s here, baby.’ The door slams open. Morgan stands in the doorway. She is smiling at Ed, but her eyes are icy cold.
Ed is struggling to get down from Art’s arms now. Art reluctantly sets him on the floor, but holds on to his wrist. ‘Gen, take him outside.’
‘No.’ Morgan pats the pocket of her cream overcoat where the outline of her gun is visible. ‘I just loaded this, Art,’ she says. ‘Don’t make me use it in front of the child.’
My chest tightens. ‘Where is Lorcan?’
Morgan ignores me. A beat passes, then Art lets go of Ed’s wrist. The little boy tears across the room to Morgan, ducking behind her legs, then peering out at me from one side.
‘Go into the kitchen, Ed,’ Morgan orders. ‘Be my brave knight, like we talked about. And remember everything I told you. Everything you have to do.’
‘But, Mummy.’ Ed’s lip wobbles.
‘Go!’ Morgan’s voice rises. ‘Let Daddy and me deal with the bad lady.’
I look at Morgan and feel absolute hatred.
‘Now, please, Ed.’ Her tone is cold and harsh. ‘Don’t let me down.’
The little boy picks up his toy sword and stomps off towards the kitchen, kicking at a teddy bear.
It flashes into my head that, for the first time in my life, I’m capable of killing someone. In fact, in that moment, the clean murder of a gunshot to the head seems like a death too good for Morgan.
Once Ed disappears, Morgan takes the gun out of her pocket.
‘I took the bullets out,’ Art says.
Morgan raises a contemptuous eyebrow. ‘I just told you, I loaded it. You think I don’t keep bullets in the house?’
‘Where’s Lorcan?’ I ask.
‘He’s still in the car,’ Morgan says. ‘You need to get your ass in there too, Geniver.’
‘What, so you can drive us back to the middle of nowhere and try murdering us again?’ I take a step towards her. I’m itching to run over and knock the gun out of her hand. She could be bluffing about those bullets and, at this precise moment, I’m willing to take the risk.
‘Morgan, please.’ Art strides up next to me, then stops as she levels her gun at him.
‘Stay where you are.’ Morgan draws herself up. She glances at me. ‘Art belongs with me, Geniver. He’s trying to help you because he feels sorry for you. But his heart is here, with me and Ed.’
‘You’re delusional,’ I snap.
‘For God’s sake, Morgan,’ Art pleads. ‘It’s not too late. I was there, with O’Donnell. I can tell the police that was an accident. But you can’t do this. Not to Gen.’
‘I can’t let her take Ed, either.’ Morgan curls her lip into a snarl. ‘Why did you bring her here, Art? This is our home. She doesn’t belong here.’
‘Stop talking like that, Morgan.’ Art lowers his voice. ‘You know the choice I’ve made. I’m with Gen.’
My head spins. How can Art be talking to his sister like this? How can Morgan have these feelings? How is it possible I’ve known them both for such a long time and had no bloody clue?
‘Oh, Art . . .’ Morgan stares at him, her mouth trembling slightly. I have the strong impression she’s almost forgotten I’m in the room. ‘We can’t let Geniver walk out of here knowing . . . what she knows.’
‘I thought it didn’t matter whether I walk out or not,’ I say. Morgan looks round. ‘You’ve already said you’ll send Jared after me.’
Morgan stiffens. There’s only contempt in her eyes as she looks at me. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she insists. ‘You don’t get it, Geniver. You don’t understand anything about real love. Real loyalty. Real sacrifice.’
‘Of course I get it.’ Morgan’s earlier conversation flashes into my head. ‘I even heard you talking to Jared about it before, in the car. You said if it came to it, he could get the money from Bitsy. That’s what you were talking about – killing me.’
Morgan shakes her head.
‘The details don’t matter,’ Art says. ‘Come on, Morgan, face the facts. There’s no way you can make this work. The truth is out now.’
‘The truth isn’t “out”,’ Morgan snaps. ‘Only Geniver and Lorcan know about the past. Anyway, even if Ed isn’t my son biologically, he is in every other respect. It might take a fight to make the courts see it but I am Ed’s mother. No one can take that away from us.’
I lean against the wall of the playroom. Here, surrounded by Ed’s toys, it seems surreal to be talking of court cases and biology. For all that I hate Morgan, I have to acknowledge this is Ed’s home.
‘There must be a way through this,’ I say.
‘Shut up,’ Morgan snaps.
‘Please, listen.’ My voice shakes. ‘Maybe if everyone calms down, we can find a way that allows Ed to be with all of us.’
‘I’m not sharing him,’ Morgan says. ‘Now, for the last time, I’m taking Geniver outside and—’
�
��No.’ Art and I speak together.
Morgan cocks the gun. Behind her, Ed has reappeared. He is peering around the kitchen door. Art notices him too. A terrible look of fear and guilt crosses his face.
‘Go to your room, Ed,’ Art orders.
The little boy’s eyes are wide and round with shock, but he slinks away out of sight.
Morgan raises her hand and points the gun at me. ‘If I have to, I’ll shoot you here.’
All I can see is the barrel of the gun. My legs are shaking, but I stand my ground. For a moment I truly believe I am about to die. And then Art steps in front of me.
‘If you’re going to kill Gen, you’ll have to kill me first.’
‘Get out of the way, Art.’
‘No.’
He means it. He will not let me die. I reach up and put my hand on Art’s shoulders. I squeeze his arm. Whatever else Art has done and whatever is going to happen next, I want him to know this counts.
My eyes are fixed on Morgan.
With a roar, a figure flashes across the room. It’s Lorcan, a long-bladed kitchen knife in his hand. Before I can even register what’s happening, he’s reached Morgan. He grabs her arm with one hand and holds the knife across her body with the other.
My heart pounds as Art darts forward to take Morgan’s gun. And then she twists away. For a second everything slows down. I’m trying to run towards them and Art is reaching out and Morgan is lunging and Lorcan is backing away from them both, the knife unused at his side.
For a second Morgan and Art stand and stare at each other.
And then the gun fires.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I freeze. Time slows to a crawl as Morgan reaches forward, holding her arms out to Art. He backs away, the gun dangling from his fingers. Morgan’s hands fall to her sides. Her eyes close and her body folds in on itself. With a thud, she crumples to the floor.
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