The Ties That Bind

by Anthea Fraser

  Instinctively Mel knew who he’d been with – a tall, leggy blonde by the name of Madeleine Connaught who, in Mel’s view, had been flirting with him for some time. Confirmation wasn’t long in coming.

  A few days later while shopping in a department store she caught sight of Madeleine reaching up to take a lizard-skin handbag off a shelf, and to her numb disbelief registered the bracelet on her wrist. For a moment she felt physically sick, a toxic mix of anger, jealousy and betrayal. She turned and stumbled out into the fresh air.

  That was when her decision was formed. She had to accept that her days of intimacy with Bruce were limited, and there was no way she was going to wait for him to end it. The humiliation after all they’d achieved together would have been insupportable, so there was no alternative. She must leave Sydney, and therefore Australia, before that could happen. Time, yet again, for a fresh start.

  So she’d begun to plan, and when her birthday was marked simply with a large and exotic bouquet of flowers it was proof she’d made the right decision, though she’d greeted them with a show of delight. Her arrangements for leaving completed, she plotted that last act of revenge.

  Mel pushed her tray away from her and looked out of the window at the grey clouds below them. Having brought herself up to date, it was time to think of the future. She’d decided from the beginning that she wouldn’t return to London; rather than the desired fresh start, that would have been revisiting the past. Somewhere the other side of the country, then, and, after eight years in Australia, she wanted to be near the coast. She’d checked various locations online, and eventually settled on Bristol as suiting her needs perfectly.

  A decision still to be made was what field she’d work in, but it would be neither hotels nor interior design. Whatever she chose, though, she was determined to make a success of it, which meant possible publicity, and she couldn’t risk any Australian tourists hearing of the latest achievements of Mel Hunter. So she’d need a new name, and the only stipulation, bearing in mind her luggage and various other engraved items, was that she keep the same initials.

  Returning her tray to the steward, she settled back in her seat and began to think of one.

  TWELVE

  The day after his return from Bristol, Patrick’s family conscience resurfaced and that evening he phoned his sister.

  ‘How did it go?’ he asked.

  Her sigh came down the phone. ‘A wasted journey, really. I mean, it was good to see them but it didn’t resolve anything. I’d been determined to broach the subject somehow, but without you there to back me up I chickened out.’

  ‘Sorry, Ames. It was bad timing, that’s all.’

  ‘I meant to ask – have you seen Dad in the office since?’

  ‘Only the day after, when he came to my room and tried to bluff it out. Since then we’ve been keeping out of each other’s way.’

  ‘Well, how about having a go yourself next weekend? I can’t get off again so soon, but you could tackle them, couldn’t you? Invite yourself to supper or something, or Dad might be out again “playing golf”.’

  He caught the quote marks. ‘You don’t think he was?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘I doubt I’d have any more luck. They’d probably just clam up, which would make for a thoroughly uncomfortable evening.’

  ‘At least have a go, and let me know how you get on.’

  He sighed. ‘OK, will do.’

  A week had now come and gone and Fleur had still not broken the news to her daughters. It had been the last week of term, Owen had had little time for family discussions and Cassie and Verity, excited at the prospect of the coming holiday, would in any case have been hard to tie down. Anyway, Jess was coming home this weekend, which would be the ideal opportunity. She and Owen had decided the wisest course was to tell all three girls together, so Cassie would have the support of her sisters. It had just remained to agree on the best time. Owen suggested after dinner on Saturday.

  ‘But that’s too late in the day!’ Fleur objected. ‘I don’t want her to go to bed while it’s all new and upsetting – she’d never sleep! She must have time to digest it before bedtime.’

  ‘After lunch, then. It can all be thrashed out and questions asked during the afternoon, and by bedtime with luck the impact might have lessened.’

  ‘I’m dreading it,’ Fleur admitted.

  ‘Well, it’s not as though it makes any real difference. Our one mistake was in not telling them sooner, which gives it added impact.’

  ‘My mistake, you mean.’

  He shrugged. ‘It was bound to come out sooner or later. I’m amazed it’s taken this long.’

  ‘I’d hoped that with our moving here, it never would,’ she said.

  As she drove home, Jess reflected on what had happened in the two weeks since she was last there. She’d learned the identity of the man she’d found in the flat, reported seeing him to the police, and come to know both Maggie and Connor a little better. She’d also met the glamorous Natasha, and could appreciate her cousin’s obsession with her. And Patrick himself had, to her relief, stopped quizzing her about her incautious comments on the stairs.

  It had been a strain, though, having to be constantly on her guard, not knowing for sure which of the group was a murderer. Maggie had presumably had at least a hand in it, but the curious thing she kept coming back to was what possible motive there could be to kill a man recently arrived from the Antipodes. And what was he doing in the flat anyway? A burglary gone wrong was surely too simplistic a solution?

  Still, it was time to put those worries out of her mind and concentrate on the one that had brought her home: Cassie’s intention to find her birth mother. These searches, she knew, could go on for a lifetime and cause much heartache, whether they were finally successful or not. She silently cursed the girl at school who’d first put the idea in Cassie’s head. But then, she remembered, there was that strange letter from their mother discovered in the loft. What that had all been about Jess couldn’t imagine.

  She was approaching St Catherine’s and felt herself relax as the familiar landmarks came into view. In ten minutes more she’d be home.

  In Verity’s bedroom she and Lizzie were sitting on beanbags, sharing a packet of crisps.

  ‘Come on then,’ Verity said, ‘what did you want to tell me?’

  Lizzie tensed. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said.

  Verity sighed theatrically. ‘Then why phone needing to see me urgently?’

  Lizzie shook her head.

  Verity screwed up the empty crisp packet and aimed it at the waste basket, missing it by several inches. ‘I stayed in specially because you were coming,’ she complained. ‘Penny’s redecorated her bedroom and wanted to show it to me.’ She made to get up. ‘If there’s nothing important, we can go round now.’

  ‘No!’ Lizzie laid a hand on her arm, then said in a rush, ‘My period’s late!’

  Verity froze in mid-air before sinking slowly back on to the beanbag. ‘God, Lizzie!’ Then, ‘Are you sure?’

  She nodded. ‘You know how regular I am, always spot on the day – you tease me about it. But it’s five days late!’

  Verity was silent for a moment. Then she said cautiously, ‘Is there any reason you can think of?’

  Lizzie started to cry.

  Verity stared at her. All at once this was deadly serious. She said simply, ‘Who?’

  Lizzie sniffed and reached for a tissue. ‘Paul,’ she said.

  ‘You mean you’ve been—?’

  ‘No!’ She shook her head violently. ‘It was only once, and – oh God, Vee, I didn’t even want to!’

  Verity’s thoughts spun. This was something well beyond her remit; she tried to remember agony aunts’ advice they’d giggled over on social media. She took a breath and asked, ‘What happened?’

  Lizzie blew her nose and went on more calmly, ‘It was at the school disco last week. You know how hot it was. Several of us went outside and me and
Paul wandered down to the tennis courts. I knew he’d been drinking – all the boys had; they’d smuggled in cans of beer and hidden them in the grounds.’ She paused, remembering. ‘We’d gone out for a snog so I was expecting him to kiss me, but that night it was different, more – intense somehow, right from the start, and I tried to push him away.’

  She looked earnestly at her friend. ‘Vee, you know I like him, and we’ve been together now for several months. But I wasn’t ready for this.’

  ‘Did you tell him?’

  ‘Yes, but he wouldn’t listen. I broke away and started to run back towards the building but he caught me and then he – he pulled me down on to the grass.’

  She started crying again and Verity passed her the box of tissues. ‘I was screaming at him to stop, but although I could see several couples in the distance they didn’t take any notice – probably thought we were just larking about. And then he – he did it. And it hurt, Vee! That’s something they don’t tell you! I was crying and struggling but he held me down. Then, when he’d finished, he’d the nerve to tell me to shut up! “What do you think we came out here for?” he said, and I said, “Not that!” and he just laughed.’

  ‘And you’ve been upset about this ever since? Why didn’t you tell me, Liz?’

  ‘I was ashamed,’ she answered in a low voice.

  There was a long silence, then Verity asked, ‘Have you taken a pregnancy test?’

  Lizzie shook her head.

  ‘Why not, if you’re so worried?’

  She shrugged. ‘Afraid of what it might say.’

  ‘We’ll have to tell Dad,’ Verity said after a minute.

  ‘What?’ Lizzie’s head spun round. ‘No! I told you in confidence! I don’t want anyone to know, least of all your dad! And if it’s OK after all, no one need ever know!’

  ‘Lizzie, it happened on school premises, Paul is a student, and whether you’re pregnant or not, it was rape!’

  Lizzie stared at her. ‘But – it was Paul!’ she said.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who it was. You said no and he didn’t stop.’

  ‘But I can’t get him into trouble! What would the gang think?’

  ‘He’s probably been bragging to them about it.’

  Lizzie’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh God! I hadn’t thought of that! How can I face them?’

  ‘Have you seen him since?’

  ‘Once, at Simon’s party, but there were a lot of people and I was able to keep out of his way.’

  Simon’s party, which Verity had missed through being grounded, though the ban had been lifted the next day. It occurred to her that this was precisely what Gran had been worried about, after seeing her with Matt.

  She brushed the thought aside. ‘Look, you must tell your parents, at least. They’ll know what to do.’

  Lizzie looked at her wildly. ‘They’ll kill me!’

  ‘If the worst happens, they’ll have to know anyway. And he shouldn’t get away with it – it’s not right! Promise me you’ll tell them. Otherwise I really will tell Dad.’

  The tears began again. ‘I’ve been praying every day that it would start!’ she sobbed.

  ‘Can you think of any other reason it might be late? Have you had a cold, or an upset tummy or anything?’

  Lizzie shook her head, blew her nose and straightened. ‘Look, let’s give it a week – that’s another two days. If it hasn’t come by then I’ll take a pregnancy test, and if – well, you know – I’ll tell Mum. OK?’

  ‘You ought to tell her anyway.’

  ‘Two more days, Vee. And in the meantime don’t you dare say anything!’

  Verity nodded. ‘OK.’

  By mutual consent they got to their feet and as Verity moved to open the door, Lizzie gave her a quick hug. ‘Thanks,’ she said simply. ‘There was no one else I could tell.’

  During the evening meal Jess regaled the family with an account of the play she’d seen the previous week. ‘If you get the chance, you should go,’ she ended. ‘Oh, and we ran into Patrick and his girlfriend in the foyer.’

  ‘Is she as gorgeous as he makes out?’ Cassie enquired.

  ‘I’d say so. Exotic rather than beautiful – tall, with masses of red-gold hair. And she’s very nice too.’

  ‘Is it serious, do you think?’ Fleur asked.

  ‘On his part, but he reckons he’s not in with a chance.’

  ‘He’d be a very good catch for somebody,’ Fleur commented.

  ‘Really, Mum!’ Jess protested. ‘You sound like a Jane Austen novel! But tell me about this holiday you’ve organized. It’s not long now, is it?’

  ‘Only another week!’ Owen replied. ‘Just what we need after the hectic term we’ve had!’

  ‘So where do you fly to?’

  ‘Direct to Miami, then on to Lima.’

  ‘Mum told me your Peru itinerary, which sounds incredible. Then it’s – where?’

  ‘Bolivia, Brazil and Argentina.’

  ‘Wow! And I only got as far as Pisa!’

  ‘What’s more, you missed our one bit of excitement while you were away,’ Fleur commented. ‘A body was washed up just along the coast, and it turns out the man had been murdered!’

  Jess froze. ‘Murdered?’ she echoed faintly.

  ‘Yes; at first it was thought he’d drowned, but they found a knife wound in his chest.’ She turned to her husband. ‘There’s more about him in today’s paper, did you see?’

  ‘Not today, but there’s been quite a bit lately, with business contacts he met in London coming forward.’

  ‘Well, the latest is he had some bad press a few years ago and there was a fair bit of animosity towards him. The police in Sydney are checking to see if anyone still bears a grudge, though of course he was killed here.’ She glanced at Jess. ‘We’re interested, because incredibly enough Dad met him in Bristol!’

  Jess felt a cold wave wash over her. She swallowed twice before she managed to say, ‘You met him, Dad? How? When?’

  ‘Well, “met” is a bit of an overstatement. He sat next to me at the bar while I was waiting for Charles Latimer.’

  ‘But when?’

  ‘The day before Cassie’s party – I’d gone up to collect her present, and was meeting him for lunch.’

  ‘Did you tell the police?’ Jess asked out of a dry mouth.

  ‘Yes, but it wasn’t much help; apparently they’ve had hundreds of sightings.’

  Jess’s hands were clenched in her lap. Should she tell them? But how could she possibly, with all the family here ready to condemn her for not coming forward? Had it been only herself and Dad, she’d certainly have confessed her own ‘meeting’ with Bruce Marriott, and it would have been a great load off her mind. With luck she might get another chance later, but the coincidence that both she and her father had a personal connection to the murdered man was not one she wanted to dwell on.

  In the meantime, she’d Cassie to worry about. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d quiz her about her birth mother search.

  That evening, Natasha phoned Patrick from Paris.

  ‘Thought I’d give you a call,’ she said. ‘I was just thinking of this time last week.’

  ‘Me too. It was great, wasn’t it?’

  ‘What are you up to this weekend?’

  He made a face, though she couldn’t see it. ‘Duty visit to the parents.’

  She laughed. ‘Enjoy!’

  They chatted for a few more minutes, then, just as they were ending the call, she said suddenly, ‘Oh, by the way; I’ve remembered where I saw that friend of your cousin’s. You know I said she looked familiar? Well, it came back to me where I’d seen her. It was several years ago, in Sydney, of all places!’

  ‘Good heavens! I’m surprised you recognized her after so long. She didn’t seem particularly memorable to me.’

  ‘Her hair colour was different, but I’m good with faces – part of my job. The point is, though, it was at some business dinner, and you’ll never guess who she was with!’r />
  ‘Then you’d better tell me.’

  ‘None other than Bruce Marriott – your Body on the Beach!’

  Patrick drew in his breath. ‘Honestly? Surely you must be mistaking her for someone else?’

  ‘No, it was definitely her. And I think she recognized me too, though she disguised it pretty cleverly.’

  ‘Well, you’d be much harder to forget! Seriously, though, I don’t remember any mention of her in the paper – coming forward to identify him or anything. Surely she would have done?’

  ‘Can’t help you there.’ Tasha yawned. ‘Well, we’re an hour ahead of you here and I’m more than ready for bed. Night, lover!’ and she rang off.

  Patrick was frowning as he clicked off his phone.

  Verity was just drifting into sleep when the phone on her bedside table vibrated and she fumbled to locate it.

  ‘Who is it? What did you say?’

  ‘It’s me, Vee, and I said it’s come! Panic over!’

  ‘Lizzie?’ Verity was still befuddled with sleep.

  ‘Yes! Oh – were you asleep? Sorry, I didn’t realize the time, but I’ve only just found out and I had to tell someone! I’m not pregnant! God, the relief!’

  ‘That’s great, Liz!’

  ‘So no one needs to know anything about it!’ Lizzie said firmly, and Verity was too tired to argue the point.

  The next day promised to be a hot one, and at breakfast Jess suggested to Cassie that they go down to the beach together.

  ‘I haven’t swum in the sea since Italy!’ she said.

  ‘Prepare for a difference in temperature!’ Owen cautioned.

  ‘Even so, it’s just the day for a dip. You game, Cass?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come,’ Cassie said. ‘Not promising I’ll actually go in, though. I’ll test the water first!’

  ‘Well, I want you all back for lunch,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m making one of my special salads.’

  It was a ten-minute walk to the beach and they set off an hour later, beach bags in hand, swimsuits under their dresses and suntan lotion applied. It was already hot and the sky cloudless. If only her own life was! Jess thought.

  The beach was already busy, with families staking their claims with chairs, umbrellas and rugs, but the sisters made for one of their favourite sites in the dunes, sheltered from the breeze and out of sight of those on the flat sand below. Jess spread out their rug and Cassie dropped down on to it.