by Jane Bidder
Then she’d moved away, flushed by the gesture, confused as to whether it suggested an intimacy or a concern based entirely on friendship rather than anything more.
At night, her dreams brought everyone to her. Her mother bolting the door so she couldn’t get in the house. Ellie and Nick as small children at one of the many international schools they’d attended. Sam and Georgina chasing her, hand in hand, even though they’d never met. At times, her husband’s face was clearer. At other times, her sister’s. Sometimes it was Georgina calling for her. Telling her that she loved her. At other times it was Sam. Begging her to come back. But when she woke in the morning, there was nothing. No text. No message at the hotel even though she had told him where she was going.
Oddly, the hotel was very empty. Every now and then, a guest would arrive to stay for a night – usually a man or, occasionally a couple – and then be gone in the morning.
‘We’re not a family concern,’ Joly explained. ‘More of a stopping place. Many of my guests are businessmen with concerns in the islands.’
Of the tall, dark-skinned girl, whom she’d spotted soon after she arrived, Georgie saw nothing.
The days went by. Before she knew it, Georgie had been there a week. Soon, the children would be back from their various trips. They would want to know where she was. Sooner or later, she was going to have to tell them – if Sam hadn’t done so already. Maybe, Georgie told herself as she went for what was becoming her usual morning walk across the white sand, he had done so already.
Perhaps their silence indicated not just disapproval but a cutting off. Like Sam. They would be shocked. Horrified. Disapproving. Dismayed. Their own mother had been living another life. A lie. She’d helped deal in drugs – even if she hadn’t known for certain what was inside those parcels. She’d been accused of murder even though this hadn’t been proved. Was it any wonder that there had been no communication from them? Or was it because emails were hit and miss due to the poor Wi-Fi connection?
‘There’s no rush to leave,’ Joly told her as if reading her mind. He had been good at that all those years ago, she remembered. It struck her that this man might understand her better than her own husband. ‘Although I do wonder why you don’t want to visit your mother before it’s too late.’
Too late?
‘She’s getting old. People don’t last for ever.’ There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice. ‘My father died last year, just after he had finally agreed to forgive me.’
They were having breakfast on the terrace – another habit which they had fallen into so easily that it was like putting on an old glove again. Yet at the same time, it was very different from the shared breakfasts on the beach all those years ago when they’d make do with a banana or a bit of stale bread.
‘Did your family visit you in prison?’ Georgie asked, still unsure how far she should probe about that time.
Joly nodded. ‘How else do you think we managed to get out in ten years? It would have been thirty if the old man and his lawyers hadn’t persuaded the police to do a deal.’ He looked out over the grounds to the sea and for a moment, Georgie could see a much younger Joly. One who still had the world at his fingertips without a care in the world.
Then his expression darkened. ‘Didn’t mean he forgave me, though. Probably would have let me rot here if my mother hadn’t made him help.’
Georgie took a sip of the fresh orange juice that was constantly topped up by one of the maids. ‘Motherhood makes you forgive things you would never do in another life.’
He looked sharply at her. ‘You have a son, I heard. That must be wonderful.’
She was surprised by the envy in his voice. Joly did not seem to be the kind of man who would welcome such responsibility.
Yes, it is. I have a daughter too.’ Another sip. ‘Ellie isn’t strictly speaking mine. She’s Sam’s, from a previous relationship.’
There was a short, sharp silence. ‘He had a thing with a girl in a Bangkok bar before we were married and had a daughter whom he didn’t know about. Her mother traced him a little while later and said she didn’t want to look after her any more. So of course, she came to live with us.’
A keen look of interest flitted across Sam’s face. ‘So you have forgiven him. Yet he cannot forgive you.’
Instantly, Georgie felt protective of her husband. ‘The two are very different. He thinks I was a professional drug dealer. A murderer too.’
To her surprise, a hand stretched out across the table, briefly clasping hers. The bolt of electricity was as great as the one which had flashed between them when she’d caught at his arm on the first day to gain his attention.
Yet this time, Joly’s hand stayed firmly in place. ‘But I don’t think you’re a murderer any more. And I’ve told Vanda and Jonathan that.’
‘They believe you?’
He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘So why do you?’
The hand moved away. Once more, Georgie felt a mixture of disappointment and relief. ‘I told you. I wasn’t sure at the time. It wasn’t you. And now you’re here, I’m even more certain.’
Standing up, she moved to the edge of the veranda to give herself breathing space. ‘How do you know who I am, Joly? I told you, I’m not even sure myself.’
There was a presence behind her. One that melted her just as it had done all those years ago. ‘Because I knew you at the beginning of your grown-up life. I saw the young girl. The one who desperately wanted to be like the rest of us. The one who was running away from a background which didn’t belong to her. A kind girl. Who didn’t yell at Jonathan and tell him to get off when he made a pass. Or scratched Vanda’s eyes out when she was catty. A girl who was a friend to Georgina …’
She turned round. His eyes were wet. ‘I still miss her …’
Georgie felt a rush of envy and compassion. ‘Me too. She was my sister yet …’
‘You hardly knew her.’ Joly’s face was red. ‘We met when we were thirteen, for God’s sake. She was my first. I was hers. She was different from anyone I’d ever met. Different from everyone except …’
His voice fell away. At the same time his arms encircled her. ‘Except you.’
Suddenly, before Georgie was even aware this was happening, his mouth came down on hers. Hard. Meaningful. Rough, yet at the same time with a smoothness about it that made her yield. Melt. Succumb to this energy that was so hot that her body felt it was burning into his.
She couldn’t have stopped even if she had wanted to.
‘I’m sorry.’
Joly stepped back, wiping his mouth as if erasing what had just happened. ‘I didn’t mean to …’
This was awful.
‘It’s just that you look so much like her. It’s as though she’s still here after all this time.
Georgie gripped the rail of the balcony for strength. ‘She was my sister,’ she repeated. ‘Yet I didn’t know her. All I do know is that during the brief time I knew her, she was kind to me. Yes, I was jealous of her because … because I wanted what she had. And then I hurt her because you and I both allowed ourselves to do … to do what we’ve just done now.’
‘Don’t,’ implored Joly. ‘It hurts too much.’
‘But I had to,’ continued Georgie ignoring him, ‘make a life for myself afterwards. I had to survive. And I did. I built another life. I got married. I had children. Made a career.’ Her hands tightened on the balcony. ‘Until one day, you and your friends decided to pull all that down.’
She whipped round, feeling an anger she hadn’t done before. ‘And now look where I am! Stuck in some fantasy land. Far away from my husband and family who now think the worst of me. Did you know that this all started with one of my credit cards being stolen? ‘
Joly shook his head.
Did she believe him? It was so difficult to know. ‘Then one of my client’s accounts was hacked. Vanda’s very clever, isn’t she?’
Joly shook his head. ‘I wasn’t aware of that. I just kn
ow that she and Jonathan said they had found a way to get you out here.’
Georgie laughed. ‘They did that all right. But you know what? I’m going to go back and face the music. If they can’t forgive me, fine. I’ll start again. I’ve done it before.’
A look of admiration crossed Joly’s face. ‘You’re more like your sister than you realise, you know.’ Then he caught her hands. ‘Please don’t go. Stay. Stay with me.’
He’s mad, she suddenly realised. He wants me here because I look like her; the sister I never knew. The girl who was kind to me. Was that why she’d shown such friendship? Had the real Georgina felt deep down that they were connected?
‘I’m sorry,’ she said simply. ‘But I can’t stay. None of this is real.’
As she spoke, a stout black woman bustled in to refill the orange juice. Something about her made Georgie stop. The half-smile on her lips didn’t match the hostility in her eyes. ‘You want me to organise taxi,’ she said to Joly. Clearly she had heard the conversation.
‘No.’ Joly was pleading with her again.
Silently, she waited until the woman had left.
‘I need to find out the times of the flights first,’ said Georgie quietly. ‘I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain. Told my husband all about my old life. And I’ve come here as you asked. Now it is time to wrap up the past and go.’
Suddenly that kiss seemed like a huge mistake. Another big error on her part. It was Sam she loved. Not this man whom she’d idolised over the years. Now she’d said those words, it was clear this was what she had to do. Go home. To be with her real family. Even if they didn’t want her any more
‘Mum, where are you?’
‘Mum – Dad says you’re away. Where? He won’t tell me. What’s going on?’
‘Georgie – are you all right? I’m home now. Until the next treatment. But I’m worried about you.’
The stream of texts and emails from Ellie, Nick, Lyndsey, and even Jo poured into her inbox as Georgie sat in the back of the taxi on the way to the airport. Clearly the reception here was better than it had been at the hotel.
Nothing from Sam. The stark absence of any message physically hurt her chest.
Was it really only an hour ago that Joly had kissed her goodbye formally on both cheeks? ‘Come back if it doesn’t work out,’ he’d murmured.
Through one of the upstairs windows, Georgie had glimpsed the tall, dusky young girl she’d seen some days earlier. No need to fear for Joly. He would find comfort elsewhere. He was that kind of man.
‘On way home,’ she texted back to Ellie. ‘Need to talk.’
They’d have a family meeting, even if Sam didn’t want it. Without him, if necessary. And she would see her mother. There was a lot of explaining to do. Georgina … Georgina … not her. The real one. The sister who’d been taken from her and then, through life’s cruel fingers, been shown to her briefly before being taken away.
And yet, despite this, Georgie was aware of a great burden being lifted from her shoulders. At last, after all these years, she didn’t have anything to hide. ‘I don’t know who I am any more,’ she had told Joly. But her husband knew. He was aware now, thanks to her confession, that she was plain Georgie née Smith.
Yet what would the children say? And supposing Vanda and Jonathan, still convinced of her guilt, called the police? Even now, they might be waiting for her at the airport, ready to quiz her about Georgina’s death. She might not be allowed out of Thailand. She might be flung into the same kind of hellhole prison as the others had been.
For a moment, Georgie almost asked the driver to stop so she could be sick with nerves. But he seemed distracted. There was some kind of hold up. Another stream of cattle, perhaps, crossing the road in yet another shanty town, like the others they’d passed through. Georgie looked out through the window, momentarily distracted from her thoughts. It was market day. There were cages of birds – ugh – and platters of brightly coloured vegetables. But in the middle some kind of argument was going on. A policeman was holding the arm of a tall, thin man with partially-shaved black hair. The man was trying to push him away. Another policeman came to hold him.
The driver shook his head. ‘That is Joshua. Bad man.’
Georgie shivered.
‘He is son of housekeeper,’ added the driver. ‘Master Joly kind to him.’
The fight was getting worse now. A third policeman had arrived.
The driver shook his head. ‘This not good. Must call Master Joly before they take him away again.’
Taking out his mobile, he proceeded to talk rapidly. As he did so, the police dragged the man in front of the taxi. Georgie froze. The man was limping. That in itself was not unusual. In a country where medical treatment was scant, many had limbs that were missing or didn’t work. But it was his face that caught Georgie’s attention. The scar. The jagged white scar along the side of his face.
Stop, she had yelled all those years ago. Stop.
Picking up the knife, she had lunged at him, anger coursing through her veins. This man had killed Georgina. Her friend.
The man had screamed as the knife had sunk into his flesh. Repulsed, she had dropped the weapon, appalled at what she had done, shocked it had been so easy to mark a man like this.
The horror had haunted her. So badly that until now, she hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. Had pushed it to the bottom of her mind. No, she hadn’t murdered Georgina. But she could so easily have murdered her sister’s attacker …
Could it be … was it possible that Joshua, staring at her now through the taxi window, was that man …?
‘You know him, miss?’ asked the driver sharply. ‘Because he sure seems to know you.’
FORTY-FIVE
My father got picked out once in an identity parade. When I was a kid, I used to like that word. Parade. It suggested a fair like the one in town once a year. Made me all excited.
I remember jumping up and down and asking if there would be candyfloss and if I could go too.
Got a sharp slap across my face for that, I did.
I can see why now.
Still, at least with identity parades there was a chance you’d get off. Now there’s nothing you can do about it unless you change your fingerprints.
We used to say that as a joke but there was a bloke in Wandsworth who managed to do that. Or so it was rumoured. Cost him a lot of money. But it worked.
Rumour has it that he’s living the good life now. In Australia. Or somewhere like that.
I’d like to go abroad one day.
All I need is to nick enough money.
FORTY-SIX
‘Turn round,’ Georgie instructed the driver. ‘I need to go back.’
The man frowned in the cracked mirror. ‘You don’t want to go to airport now?’
Yes. Of course she did. But she also needed to tell Joly what she had just seen. The man who limped. The scar down his cheek. Then again, there were probably lots of men like that around here.
Besides, she’d miss the plane if they didn’t carry on. The three policemen were pushing the man into a car now. For a minute he seemed to catch her eye and scowl. Another trick of her imagination?
‘You’re right.’ She sank back into her seat, hot and sticky in the heat. The air-conditioning didn’t seem to be working in this car either. ‘Just carry on.’
He made a sound that suggested she was not the easiest of passengers. At the same time, her phone bleeped again. Another message from Ellie.
Mum, ring. Please.
She couldn’t. Not until she’d got back to the UK. Some things were better done, face to face. And this was one of them.
When Georgie had arrived at the airport nearly two weeks ago, she’d been terrified of being recognised. Now, as she checked in, that fear returned to her. True, her passport had been under Sam’s surname for years. Her face had changed beyond all recognition. But technology was so different now. Supposing she was recognised as the teenager who had fled all those y
ears ago?
She breathed a sigh of relief when the girl at the desk – so beautiful with her immaculate make-up and dark skin – handed her back her passport with a smile along with her boarding ticket and told her to proceed to Security.
Meanwhile, Joly still hadn’t replied to the numerous messages she’d left. ‘Please call,’ she’d said. ‘I need to tell you something.’
Suddenly she became aware of a hand on her arm. Georgie whipped round. Her heart literally filled her mouth as she took in two military men with guns at their holsters. ‘Mrs Hamilton?’
She nodded, unable to speak. Had something had happened to the children? Or Sam. Or Joly …
‘Come with us.’
To her horror, Georgie found her right arm being taken by one man and her left by the other. In front of a wide-eyed group of family tourists (‘What’s happening to that lady, Mum?’), she was marched across the shiny-floored departures lounge and into a small, officious-looking room off the side.
‘I don’t understand,’ she spluttered after they’d motioned that she should sit down.
On the other side of the desk was another man. Also in full uniform.
‘I think you do.’
He pushed across a faded yellowing newspaper. On the front page, a girl stared out of it. A young girl.
‘You have been here once before, have you not, Georgie Smith?’ He spoke good English, with a curl of a smile at his lips. ‘How foolish of you to return.’
For a moment she could hardly breathe. Her throat had swollen with such fear that it was difficult to get the words out. ‘No. No. You’ve got it wrong.’
He shook his head. ‘I do not think so. We have been looking for you for a long time.’ Then his face darkened. ‘Murder is punishable by death in this country, you know.’
Cold beads of sweat broke out down her back. Her arms. Her face. ‘I need to ring someone,’ she said, struggling to find her voice. ‘That’s my right.’
Even as she spoke, Georgie was unsure if this was the case in this weird, unknown land. But the man opposite had a resigned look on his face, as if he’d been caught out. He gestured at the large phone on his desk. ‘Use this.’ Then he shook his head at the mobile in her hand. ‘Not that. You will give your phone to me please. And your passport.’