Nemesis

by Marley, Louise

  As she hauled herself back onto the seat, her first thought was that he’d crashed, but as she reached across to the door it was flung open. She raised her head in time to see her father reach in and grab a handful of her sweater. When he began dragging her out, she realised she was in serious trouble.

  “A damned good hiding should set you straight,” he grunted. “Stop you turning out like your damned mother. By the time I’ve finished with you, no man will look at you again.”

  As the fabric of her sweater bunched up, it exposed her vest top beneath. No matter how she squirmed, she couldn’t get free; the sweater was dragged up her body, digging beneath her arms and across her throat. She lifted her arms, trying to grab hold of his wrists, intending to dig her fingernails into his skin to help free herself, when the sweater suddenly slid up and over her arms. She had a split second to drop her head forward, then it slithered free and she was left sprawled across the back seat of the car in her vest and jeans.

  Discarding the sweater on the ground, he made another grab for her but she scooted across the seat, just as he caught hold of her ankle and yanked her back. She used her other foot to kick him in the chest, forcing him away from her, giving her enough time to open the door. She fell backwards onto the tarmac, jarring her back, before finding the strength to lift her leg and kick the door shut with her foot.

  Groaning, she rolled over and struggled to stand up. What was she going to do now? She had no family, apart from her parents and an aunt in Port Rell that she had never met, nor did she have any friends to speak of. There was that teacher, Mr Waters, who had been kind to her, but she had no idea where he lived and she could hardly turn up on his doorstep in the middle of the night. In the meantime, she’d better get the hell out of there, before her father recovered enough to come after her and make good on his promise.

  They’d stopped somewhere on the road between Norchester and Calahurst, high on the cliff with the marina lights below. She could smell the salt on the air and feel the wind coming up from the river, cooling her bruised face. A short distance behind her was a row of terraced cottages and, even as she stumbled towards them, she saw their lights flicker on, one by one.

  She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, in case he was running after her, but incredibly his car was already rolling down the hill towards Calahurst. It would be too much to hope that he’d decided to return home without her. Any moment now he’d turn around and come right after her.

  Despite the pain from her back, she managed to break into a run, heading for the nearest house. The door opened and she could see the silhouette of a man against the interior light.

  “Please,” she said. “You’ve got to help me.”

  He pushed her aside and ran out onto the road.

  Then the other residents emerged from their cottages, shouting and waving their arms at something happening behind her.

  So she turned and looked back.

  The car, with her father still inside it, had vanished.

  32

  Present

  Alicia had got as far as switching on her computer, when a rap on the window startled her into knocking her mug to the floor, where the coffee sank slowly and unforgivingly into the carpet. At least it had missed her notes. Because she was alone she cursed freely; only to glance up and see Natalie’s boyfriend, Simon Waters, staring through the window, with Lexi and Will stood on either side of him. Will appeared forlorn; Lexi had her arms folded and looked seriously pissed off.

  Was it half-past three already?

  There was another impatient rap on the window. Lexi mouthed something Alicia couldn’t quite catch. Although it could have been: ‘Open the bloody door!’

  Stepping over the damp patch on the carpet, Alicia walked through the hall and unlocked the front door. She was practically knocked sideways by both children barging through simultaneously, leaving Simon standing on the doorstep.

  She had never cared for Simon. There was something distinctly unnerving about him, the way he regarded everything so intently through those spectacles, as though recording every detail and storing it away for the future. He gave her the creeps.

  “No one arrived to collect the children,” he said, in his usual emotionless manner. “Did you forget they had a half day?”

  James and his wretched conference. “Thank you for bringing them home,” she said. “It was very kind of you. I expect I would have noticed their absence when they didn’t turn up for dinner!”

  He didn’t smile. She hadn’t expected him to.

  She thought that was the end of it - that he would say goodbye and leave. Instead he came into the hall and stood there, his hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking around and taking in the high ceiling and elegant Georgian furniture.

  “This is a very attractive house,” he said.

  “Thank you.” Alicia did not move from the open door. Couldn’t he take the hint? “You have been here before.”

  He took a step back to admire a painting hung on the wall, his trainers moving silently on the polished floor. The painting was massive, depicting a three or four times great uncle, resplendent in a naval uniform he had never been entitled to.

  “Yes,” he said. “I came to a Christmas party a few years ago and, more recently, to celebrate James’s promotion.”

  Alicia felt a pang of guilt. Simon was James’s colleague and her best friend’s boyfriend - and he had only been to her house twice?

  She watched him walk on to the next portrait. Equally huge, it was of an ancestor who had been caught in the French Revolution, but died in gaol before anyone could lop his head off. Probably out of spite, Alicia thought, and fairly typical of the Vyne family.

  Perhaps Simon was interested in history?

  “Are these paintings from the castle?” he asked.

  “I expect so,” she said, “but they’ve hung here for as long as I can remember. Did you ever visit the castle when it was open to the public?”

  “No.”

  As he failed to comment further, she was forced to ask, “Was there something you wanted to speak to me about?”

  “Yes,” he said, turning away from the portrait and regarding her impassively. “I wanted to talk to you about James.”

  Perhaps it was because she was still standing beside the open door, but Alicia shivered. Before she could speak, Lexi thundered down the staircase, stopping only when she caught sight of Simon standing in the centre of the hall, his hands still in his pockets.

  Her pale cheeks reddened as she looked past him to her mother. “Is it all right if I use the Internet to do my homework?”

  “Sorry, darling, I wanted to finish transcribing those notes I took at the archives last week.”

  Lexi frowned. “Can’t you use the laptop?”

  Truly, she was her father’s daughter.

  “Could we discuss this later? I need a couple of moments to talk to Mr Waters.”

  “Oh, all right then.” Lexi’s glance slid reluctantly towards Simon. “I’m not in any trouble, am I, Sir?”

  There was the ghost of a smile. “No, Alexandra, you’re not in any trouble. I need to speak to your mother on another matter entirely.”

  “Oh good,” said Lexi, and sidled into the study.

  “Don’t touch the computer!” Alicia called, but the door slammed shut, probably before Lexi had even heard her.

  Alicia felt the need to explain. “I’m working on my family tree. One wrong keystroke and thirty generations of the Vynes would be erased.”

  “We certainly wouldn’t want that,” said Simon.

  Alicia regarded him uncertainly, unclear as to whether he was joking.

  She closed the front door. Apparently he was not planning on leaving until he’d had his say. She had no intention of offering him a coffee, so she did not want to take him into the kitchen, but the sitting room was so cosy she might never get rid of him. She remained where she was.

  “Is this work-related?” she asked him. “If you have a
problem, you should really speak to James.”

  “It is a little more delicate than that.” He glanced towards the door of the study, as though concerned they would be overheard. “There has been … talk.”

  Why couldn’t he just spit it out? “About what?”

  “This is really difficult for me.”

  Not half as difficult as it is for me having to listen to you, thought Alicia. She remembered the coffee she’d spilt in the study. If she didn’t do something about it soon, she’d never be able to get the stain out of the carpet.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’ve had a really bad day. Do you think you could come to the point?”

  “Of course,” he said. “You see, James has been seen with a student.”

  She forced herself to pay attention. “It is his job.”

  “A female student,” said Simon. “Out of school hours and in inappropriate circumstances.”

  Alicia recalled an image of Summer Cameron, lying naked on a bed. It was an effort to keep her expression neutral.

  “Define ‘inappropriate’,” she said.

  “You don’t seem concerned?”

  “I’m certain there is nothing to be concerned about!”

  “You don’t mind that your husband is frequenting nightclubs with female students?”

  He said it so dourly it was hard to keep a straight face. “To be honest, I can’t really imagine James at a nightclub. Which one was it?”

  “Remedy.”

  “The local one?” If that was all the evidence he had, James’s dirty little secret was quite safe. “I’d hardly call Remedy a nightclub,” she said. “It’s where the students hang out and listen to local bands. Lexi goes there. It’s perfectly all right - a bit grungy, but then teenagers like that sort of thing, don’t they? You really should have spoken to James about this. I expect he was there to support one of his pupils.”

  “Summer Cameron is not a music student.”

  Again, Simon appeared to be waiting for a reaction.

  She was equally determined not to give him one. “You’re reading far too much into this. Summer was probably part of a larger crowd of friends. Her sister is a friend of Lexi and her mother is one of the school governors. If my husband was going to have an affair with a 6th Former, don’t you think he’d go somewhere more private?”

  “Such as an education conference in London?” said Simon.

  Alicia could almost feel the blood blanch from her face and for a moment was incapable of doing anything other than stare at him.

  “I think you should leave,” she said. “My husband is not here to defend himself and, as I don’t believe a word of these accusations, you are wasting your time repeating them.”

  He didn’t move. “You’re very loyal.”

  “I’m his wife.”

  “For how much longer?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t you worry that one day he won’t come back?”

  “From London?” she said stupidly.

  “To you.”

  “Now you’re being absurd!”

  “How many girls have there been over the years?”

  To say ‘It’s no business of yours’, would be admitting he was right, so she said nothing and hoped her expression was equally blank.

  “Can you even remember?” he said. It sounded like a taunt.

  “Please leave,” she repeated.

  “I’ll give you a hint,” he said. “They were all very beautiful and all very blonde. He certainly has a type. Curiously, not one of them looked like you.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t answer. Her voice would stick at the back of her throat and betray her.

  “Would you like me to remind you of their names?”

  She shook her head.

  “There was Jess, who worked at the sailing club, and Kara, on holiday from the Midlands. Then there was Rachel from teacher training college, although that’s going back a few years. In fact, why don’t we go right back to the beginning - to the original, if you like? Your friend Sarah Grove.”

  “Shut up!” she hissed. “How dare you even mention her name - ”

  He frowned. “But you’re not even surprised … You knew all the time.”

  “Why have you come here now? Why are you saying these things to me - when James is not here to defend himself?”

  “Perhaps I thought you required a little reality in your perfect life?” He waved his hand at the paintings behind him.

  Was that what this was all about? Jealousy over their perceived lifestyle? It hardly seemed a valid motive at all.

  She grabbed the phone from the table behind her and held it up. “If you don’t leave within the next five seconds I’m calling the police. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” he said, but before she could carry out her threat, he’d snatched the phone from her and slammed it back into the base unit.

  She was so frightened by this unexpected turn of events she began backing towards the door but he grabbed her wrists and held them, painfully tight.

  “You’ve always known the truth about James,” he said, keeping his voice low but apparently no longer able to conceal his rage. “Why do you keep covering for him?”

  “I don’t, I - ”

  “You hide your head in the sand and yet you’re so stupid you don’t even realise the consequences of what you’ve done. It will get worse, you know, this compulsion of his. He won’t ever be able to stop. He’ll get older, the girls will get younger, then one day there will be another girl like Sarah, another obsession, another lily pond - ”

  The study door opened. Instantly she was released.

  “Mum, something’s wrong with the computer!” Lexi shouted at the top of her voice, before spotting her mother standing only a few feet away. She looked from Alicia to Simon and back again. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” said Alicia, moving away from Simon, far slower than she would have liked. “Mr Waters was just leaving.”

  Lexi knew she was lying; anxiety was clear in her grey eyes, and the way that she chewed at her bottom lip, but for once she did not contradict her mother.

  “Goodbye, Mr Waters,” she said, in an oddly formal way. “Thank you for the lift.”

  “Bye, Alexandra,” said Simon smoothly. “I’ll see you at the drama club tomorrow. And Alicia, should you feel the need to discuss our conversation further, you have my number.”

  “What was that all about?” asked Lexi, when Simon had finally gone. “I thought you were having an argument, but the way you were standing so close together, it was almost like … ” she trailed off, frowning.

  “It was nothing,” Alicia said firmly. “Nothing at all.”

  And she hoped to God that was true.

  33

  While Natalie told her story, Bryn remained silent, staring through the windscreen at the brick wall of the car park as though he wasn’t even listening. The yellow overhead lighting made his skin appear sallow and emphasised the dark circles beneath his eyes. He looked as though he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in a week.

  When he did speak, it was not the question she had been expecting.

  “You caused the accident that crippled your father?”

  “I suppose so - but it was an accident. He was drunk, he was in a rage - he didn’t pull the handbrake up fully when he parked.”

  Bryn turned his attention back to her. “It explains why you’re the only person who doesn’t believe he drove over that cliff deliberately.”

  “I saw it happen.”

  “Ah, but technically you didn’t. You were running away.”

  “The police said it was an accident,” she protested. “They carried out an inspection on the remains of the car and found the handbrake was partially on.”

  “He’d still be able to drive.”

  “Why would he want to?”

  “He’d attacked James Fitzpatrick - whose influential family would have ensured he was sent to prison for a very
long time - and he had threatened to kill you. His life would have been ruined.”

  “He wouldn’t have killed me; he only wanted to frighten me. He hated the fact I was growing up, wearing make-up and seeing boys - ”

  “You’re deluding yourself, Natalie. He was a monster and I can’t believe you’re making excuses for him.”

  “I’m not, but he was drunk and … ” She trailed off, regarding him unhappily. She wanted to add “It’s complicated” but that was such a cliché. Bryn hadn’t been there. He hadn’t had to live her life. What the hell did he know? She’d told him every little detail and he wanted to dissect it further. Why did they have to keep going over it?

  Guiltily she remembered when her father had grabbed her and said, ‘I know what you did’. Is this what he meant? Did her father blame her for his accident?

  “I pushed him back into the car and kicked the door shut with my foot,” she said.

  Was it that which had set the car in motion down the hill? Her father had been on the back seat, not the front. He couldn’t have driven that car anywhere.

  “I never meant to hurt him.”

  “Had he hit you before?” Bryn asked.

  “Only when he was really angry. He was mean-spirited, particularly after he’d been drinking, and occasionally he was violent. You have to remember, I wasn’t used to living any other way. I knew his behaviour wasn’t normal, but it was normal for me. When I grew older, I learnt not to do anything that might trigger that terrifying rage.”

  “I suppose he was always sorry afterwards.”

  Bryn was being sarcastic but she answered him seriously. “No, I don’t think it ever occurred to him he’d done anything wrong. That’s who he was.”

  He muttered something beneath his breath, which could have been “Christ!” but before she could respond, he said, “This visit of yours, did he say anything else of relevance?”

  “He tried to deny my mother had been to see him - referring to her as his ‘Nemesis’. He wanted to know who ‘the gardener’ was in my novel, but I said I didn’t know. Sir Henry employed a dozen gardeners, many of whom were young and hot, and would definitely have appealed to Sarah. He said he hadn’t wanted to get married or have children, but that my mother trapped him into it, which I suppose explains why he was always so angry all the time - ”