She gave Ellie a final hug and buried her head under the umbrella as she headed back down the stairs to the pavement. Her mind was already filled with thoughts of the coming funeral, the tears welling up in her eyes as the finality of her grandmother’s death began to sink in.
She hurried back to her car, so preoccupied with avoiding the puddles that she didn’t notice the man standing on the other side of the road, watching her.
But she’d notice him soon enough. He’d make sure of that. And when the time came, he’d relish seeing her reaction.
As she drove off, he climbed onto his motorbike and followed.
‘Uncle Phil was asking what we wanted to do about the house,’ Lynette said, later that night, watching her sister take the chicken out of the oven. ‘He’s sorting out Grandma’s Will and wants to know if we want to sell it or rent it out.’
‘I haven’t even thought about it.’
‘We’re the sole beneficiaries apparently. It’s mostly the house, he says, and some shares that are worth about fifty grand and some cash.’
It was a fortune to Grace. ‘God, I had no idea.’
‘Me, neither. But I’ve been talking about it with Leo. It’s a considerable amount of money and we could both do with it, but maybe we shouldn’t rush into selling the house? We could think about letting it out? It’s a shame you and Ellie can’t think of moving back in. I don’t suppose…?’
‘No. I can’t risk it, Lynne, you know that. I was terrified enough every time I came to visit Gran, but at least it was only for a day or two and I could keep a low profile.’
‘Okay, it was just a thought. I hate the idea of strangers living here but I suppose I’ll get used to it. What do you think about renting it out then?’
Grace nodded. ‘It’s a good idea. Let’s do it.’
She shook her head, trying to get around the fact that in a few months’ time she’d actually have some cash and an extra income. It would mean she and Ellie could rent a bigger flat, buy some decent furniture even.
Lynette smoothed the tablecloth with her hands. ‘God … how long has Grandma had this tablecloth? I remember it forever. They were good times, weren’t they?’
She looked at her sister, her manner hesitant. ‘You know, you had some good friends up here – I’m thinking of Marianne in particular. She must have found it really hard when you just cut off from her like that.’
‘I didn’t have a choice. Her brother’s one of Rory’s closest friends if you remember.’
Guilt made Grace’s voice defensive. She hated how much her life had had to change. And Marianne was someone she felt particularly bad about. She’d written to Grace several times when she’d first moved to London eager to visit, but Grace had kept her replies deliberately vague and quite terse; and eventually the correspondence between them had dried up. As had the friendship. She’d missed her friend though, more than Marianne would ever know.
‘I can’t begin to think how hard it’s been for you. I really admire you for how you’ve handled everything. You know that, don’t you?’
Grace shrugged. ‘It’s history, Lynne. I’ve made a new life and it’s a good one. No need to feel sorry for me.’
She reached for a carrier bag on the floor by the kitchen door and pulled out a bottle of Moet.
‘Gran’s favourite.’ She smiled, handing it to her sister. ‘You open it while I dish up, and we’ll see her off in style tonight …’
The only good thing that could be said for the day, Grace thought as she watched her grandmother’s coffin being laid into the plot beside her grandfather’s, was that it was the sort of bright spring day her grandmother would have loved. It was a small gathering that had assembled, but every person in the group was familiar and had their own memories of Elizabeth Harper, and the tributes in the service had been heartfelt.
She and Lynette stood side by side, their hands linked as the first clods of earth dropped down on the lid of the coffin. Lynette’s clasp tightened as she stifled a sob. Grace knew exactly how she was feeling, and she understood it. With their grandmother gone it felt like it was just the two of them now, and it was a lonely sensation.
A short distance away in the woods, another person witnessed Elizabeth Harper’s burial. But his eyes weren’t fixed on the coffin, or the group of people surrounding it – apart from one. He could see her better now she didn’t have the umbrella and she’d hardly changed, he thought. In fact, if anything she was even more stunning than she’d been six years ago. The fitted beige dress and little black cardigan she wore showed a figure that was slender without being skinny, and her chestnut hair hung in glorious soft waves around her shoulders. He’d loved her hair. He could still remember the silky feel of it, the scent of it. They’d been so in love back then, before she’d ruined it all. Before she’d deceived him. He’d warned her not to cross him, hadn’t he?
Well, she was about to find out what happened when someone betrayed his trust.
CHAPTER SIX
The sound of delighted children’s squeals echoed throughout the flat
‘When’s the clown coming … when’s the clown coming?’
Ellie was literally jumping up and down with excitement.
‘He’ll be here soon …’ Grace laughed, putting her hands over her ears. ‘Be patient.’
‘I’m five now, Mummy, aren’t I … now I won’t be the littlest one at school anymore, will I?’
‘Course you will …’ her cousin Emily scoffed, enjoying exercising a sense of superiority over her younger cousin. ‘You’ll have to wait ’til next year before the littler ones come.’
‘Let’s play another game,’ Grace interrupted hastily. ‘How about pass the parcel?’
‘Ooh yes …’ both girls squeaked in unison. They ran off into the lounge just as the doorbell rang.
‘Go on, you let Coco the Clown in.’ Lynette laughed. ‘I’ll get the game started.’
Grace went to open the door, relishing how her life had changed over the last three months. Her inheritance had eased some of the enormous financial burden she’d struggled with for so long, enabling her to rent a two-bedroom ground-floor flat in Balham with a garden, rather than the tiny bedsit they’d previously occupied. She was now working flexi-hours at the hospital and Ellie had started at the same school as Lynette’s two children, Emily and Michael, which meant that between her and Lynette they’d worked out a rota for doing the drop offs and pick ups.
Things were going well with Stuart, and all in all, life was good. She still missed her grandmother terribly of course, but …
She opened the door, a ready smile on her face for Coco the Clown, and reeled back in shock.
‘Rory!’
‘Hello, Grace, I believe you have something that belongs to me?’
He hadn’t changed – she sensed that straight away, despite the fluid smile.
From inside the flat the squeals of laughter coming from pass the parcel seemed magnified a hundredfold as Grace stepped hurriedly forward on the doorstep and tried to ease the door closed behind her.
‘I’m … uh, it’s not a very good time to talk …’
‘Oh? I’d have thought my daughter’s birthday was the ideal time for me to meet her. You see … I’ve been doing my homework – with a little help from your dear grandmother before she died. I’ve even bought a birthday present.’
Grace’s mind was spinning, but from somewhere she found the strength to sound calm, even if she didn’t feel it.
‘If you want to see Ellie, Rory, then I’m sure we can talk about it. But this isn’t the right time –’
He pushed past her before she could stop him. ‘I disagree. I think it’s the perfect time.’
Once in the hall, he turned back to look at her. ‘If you like, I won’t tell her who I am – not yet. But I want to see her now and I really don’t think you should try and stop me.’
Before she had time to rally a response, he’d turned his back on her and was striding on, following t
he noise through to the lounge.
Lynette’s eyes flew to Grace’s in shock when he walked in.
‘Lynette.’ He acknowledged her smoothly.
For once, her sister was lost for words.
He stood in the doorway surveying the scene, his glance raking the small group of children in the centre of the room until it came to rest on Ellie, dressed in her princess party dress. His gaze switched momentarily to Grace, seeking confirmation as he tilted his head in Ellie’s direction. Grace nodded, her heart banging in her chest.
For a long moment he held her gaze but there was no softening of his expression as he turned back to look at his daughter. He stared at her broodingly, watching as her little eyes lit up every time the parcel landed in her lap, but he made no move. He just stood there, watching – letting his presence be felt, like some huge thunderstorm about to erupt.
Grace did her best to carry on; organising the games, supervising the food and Coco when he finally arrived; but inside she was a mess. How had he found her? She’d been so careful to cover her tracks. She looked at him apprehensively, her eyes darting away again when she saw that his gaze was fixed on her. His vibrant blue stare was as compelling as ever but there was a menace about him now that made her shudder – there was no trace of the light-hearted, careless charm that had so attracted her to him at the beginning.
And with that realisation disappeared any faint hope that she might have got him wrong all those years ago. Or that he might have changed. He hadn’t – she could see that from the indolent way he leaned against the wall sizing her up, helping himself casually to the sandwiches that she’d made. As far as he was concerned she’d become his enemy when they’d split up – and even more so now that he’d found out about Ellie.
‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ he said, when he finally took his leave. ‘I don’t like being deceived, Grace. We had an agreement – and I’m angry that you broke it. But now I know I have a daughter, I want some involvement in her upbringing.’
The fear of that was enough to spur Grace into response, as for the first time since his arrival, she faced him out.
‘You can’t just walk in here demanding parental rights, Rory. You didn’t want the baby and I was perfectly entitled to make my own decision as to whether I had her or not. I’ve taken full responsibility for her for the last five years and I’m happy to continue with that. I don’t need or want anything from you.’
He raised an eyebrow at her, a small smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. ‘As I say. I’ll be in touch.’
And he was gone, walking off without a backward glance.
‘Are you okay?’ Lynette asked, coming up behind her.
Grace shook her head. ‘Not really.’
‘Don’t let him get to you, the creep. He can’t just expect to waltz back into your life and start making demands.’
‘But he’s her father. What if he goes to a solicitor?’
‘Then we go to one too – fight him.’
‘But he’ll have rights, Lynne. I don’t want to have everything dragged through the courts. That’ll give him legal jurisdiction over her.’
‘Let’s not jump the gun. You never know – now that he’s seen her maybe that’s enough. He might not want the responsibility of a five-year-old child weighing him down.’
But as Grace turned back and watched him disappear round the corner, she knew that wouldn’t be the case.
Now he’d found them, their life was never going to be the same again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Memories swamped her – memories she’d suppressed for so long. She’d managed to keep them at bay while she and Lynette cleared up after the party – while she bathed an excited Ellie and finally put her to bed. But now the flat was quiet and she was alone, they were clawing at her – blasting her with images she’d done her best to forget – until she stopped hearing the traffic outside on the road, stopped being aware of her surroundings in the flat, and instead she was back at the party where she’d first met Rory at the age of eighteen – dancing in his arms, thinking he was the coolest guy in the room and how lucky she was that he’d singled her out for attention.
The image changed. It was a month later and their relationship was already on the rocks. But of course she hadn’t wanted to admit that at the time – she’d been besotted with him. She took a breath. She never usually let herself go there. It seemed a slur on Ellie associating her with such ugliness. But tonight she had to do it.
She’d taken hours preparing for that evening, making a special effort with her appearance to make up for the row they’d had the night before. Rory was four years older than her and the only indulged son of wealthy parents. It wasn’t in his remit to have to wait for anything, especially girls. And he’d made it plain that he wanted to have sex with her … something she wasn’t ready for yet.
But there’d been no remnants of ill humour when he’d picked her up. To her surprise and relief, he’d apologised for his behaviour and whisked her off to Cambridge – to a smart, new restaurant that had opened up on the river. They’d had a fun evening and she’d basked in his admiration, their argument forgotten. When he’d suggested that she might like to go back and meet his parents, she’d been caught off guard.
‘What ... now?’
‘Why not? It’s still quite early. And they’re always saying how much they want to meet you.’
She felt flattered. He must like her quite a lot if he wanted to introduce her to his parents. And perhaps she’d been over-sensitive to his father’s brusqueness the few times she’d spoken to him on the phone.
But when they arrived at the large house in one of the most exclusive villages on the fringe of Cambridge, Grace frowned, noting the dark windows.
‘Looks like they’ve had an early night,’ Rory said, opening the front door. ‘Come through into the snug and we’ll have a quick drink before I take you home. It’s been a great evening, I don’t want it to end.’
And neither did she. She’d tipped him a smile. ‘Just a tiny one then.’
The entrance hall was spectacular and even though it wasn’t her style, she could fully appreciate the large expanse of marble flooring and the elaborate fountain that stood in the middle of it. She’d followed him through to the snug, half expecting his parents to appear at any moment, and once there, he’d walked over to a cabinet and mixed her a small drink – laughing when she gasped at the strength of it.
‘What is that?’ she choked, dropping down onto the settee and staring at the concoction suspiciously.
His eyes were intent as he watched her. ‘A cocktail recipe that I picked up in the Bahamas – don’t worry, it’s not got much alcohol in it but you have to knock it back in one go. Like this.’
His eyes locked with hers as he demonstrated with his own glass, and she gamely followed suit, tears springing to her eyes as she coughed her way through it. ‘Ugh Rory ... that’s disgusting.’
‘You’re so beautiful,’ he muttered huskily, sinking down onto the sofa next to her and cupping her face as he drew her towards him. ‘Even when you pull faces like that.’
The drink had gone straight to her head on top of all the other alcohol she’d had. Her grandparents would kill her if they could see her now. But they couldn’t and she was rather enjoying the feel of Rory’s lips moving warmly on hers; the familiar musky scent of his aftershave intermingling with the other pleasurable sensations he was arousing.
But then the atmosphere seemed to change, his hands becoming more intrusive than she was comfortable with.
‘Rory … don’t. Your parents might come in …’
‘No, they won’t – don’t worry.’ He burrowed his face in her hair nuzzling her neck. ‘They’re out for the night. We have the whole place to ourselves.’
Before the significance of his words could even begin to register, he was pushing her back down into the cushions, his body a lead weight on top of her.
Alarm bells rang. Something wasn’t right. S
he tried to clear the fog in her brain. What had he said? His parents were out for the night?
There was an urgency about him now that frightened her. She started to struggle against him. ‘No, Rory, stop it.’
She pushed at him with all her strength, trying to scramble up from the settee, but he yanked her roughly back down in the cushions, and when she still continued to fight him, he slapped her cheek hard. She stared up at him in total shock, terror taking over at what she saw in his face.
The only thing she really remembered afterwards was the violent struggle when she’d tried so hard to push him off; the utter futility of it as she realised how much stronger he was than her.
‘You led me on, you know you did,’ he told her, angrily defensive afterwards. ‘No normal bloke’s going to be able to stop when we’d gone as far as we had.’
And Grace in her naivety, half believed him as she sat numbed and shocked, clutching her cardigan tightly around her on the sofa.
‘Get me a taxi. I want to go home.’
‘I’ll take you –’
‘No!’ Her eyes flashed her loathing. ‘Do you think I’d go anywhere with you – ever trust you again? I hate you.’
When she got home she stumbled through the garden gate and for a long time stood outside the front porch clutching at the familiarity of her surroundings. She took deep cleansing gulps of the crisp, night air and after a while began to feel calmer.
‘Grace, is that you?’
Her grandmother was standing in the doorway; she always waited up until Grace got home. All Grace wanted to do was throw herself into the loving arms she knew would encompass her. But she couldn’t. She was so ashamed. She staggered forward.
‘Good Lord … are you drunk?’
Grace couldn’t meet her eyes. ‘I don’t feel well,’ she mumbled. ‘I’m going to bed. I’m sorry, Grandma. I’m so sorry.’
‘I think you better had,’ Elizabeth said grimly, ‘before your grandfather sees you. We’ll talk about this in the morning.’
Shadow Watcher, A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 3