The Ties That Bind

by Anthea Fraser

  Ben Ridley looked doubtful. ‘The trouble with that, Rob, is it wouldn’t give us much time to finalize things – they’d be expecting us back almost immediately. Better perhaps to meet somewhere else and we could agree the finishing touches as we make our way to the flat?’

  ‘Good point,’ Stuart agreed.

  ‘Outside the office, then?’ Jess suggested. ‘It’s about a ten-minute walk – that should give us time.’

  Both men nodded.

  ‘Right,’ Stuart said. ‘Steadman and Maybury offices at seven thirty. And in the meantime, Ben, you can think up a new name for yourself.’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘Taking all the timings into account, I reckon things should kick off about eight, when you’re all settled and before the delivery of the takeaway at eight thirty. So I’ll have back-up on standby around that time, in case you need them.’ He checked the notes he’d made. ‘At Flat Five, Sussex Court. Thanks, Ben.’

  Ridley got to his feet and nodded to Jess. ‘Till Saturday, then. And when we meet I’ll be Dan Crowther.’

  Jess nodded. ‘Till Saturday,’ she replied.

  SIXTEEN

  Around six weeks earlier

  It had been a busy week and Maggie was glad she’d blocked out the afternoon in her calendar. At Laurence’s suggestion, she’d also cancelled that evening’s get-together. Jess would be on holiday so Connor mightn’t have come anyway, and Dom and the girls could find somewhere else to hang out.

  Laurence, however, would be coming, and she felt the warning tingle that always preceded meeting him. He’d a business lunch but should be free around four to four thirty, and had suggested she prepare a picnic supper and they drive out into the country. She decided to stop at Cribbs Causeway on the way home, have a bite of lunch, stock up with food for the picnic and perhaps take the chance of looking for some new shoes. So, having fulfilled all these intentions, it was almost three o’clock when she finally set off for home.

  And, as often when she was alone, Laurence flooded into her mind and she slapped the steering wheel in frustration. Although it was now over four months since they’d met, she was still no nearer knowing him. All she did know was that there was something dangerous about him, something she couldn’t put a name to but that occasionally raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He was a passionate lover, though, which added spice to her life, and for the moment she was prepared to settle for that.

  Though she phrased it differently, even to herself, he had actually picked her up in a bar. She’d stopped off at a pub after a particularly difficult day, and after searching in her bag for her purse, she remembered, to her embarrassment, that she’d taken it out to pay for petrol, then slipped it into the glove compartment rather than her bag on the back seat. She was apologetically pushing the glass away from her when a voice behind her said, ‘I’ll get that!’ and someone reached across her and put some coins on the counter.

  He was tall, she noticed as he carried their glasses to a table, with a broad back and rugby-player’s shoulders. Good looking, though not really her type. However, the least she could do in the circumstances was have a drink with him.

  ‘Laurence Pope,’ he said by way of introduction, reaching a large hand across the table.

  ‘Maggie Haig,’ she replied, taking it and feeling it almost crush her own. ‘This is very kind of you,’ she continued quickly, aware of his assessing black eyes.

  ‘My pleasure.’ He had an attractive speaking voice, which for some reason surprised her.

  ‘I’m not usually so scatter-brained, but it’s been one of those weeks!’

  He smiled. ‘Tell me about it! Office job?’

  ‘No; well, not quite. I run a garden design business but with a garden centre attached, and that’s what has run me off my feet this week.’

  ‘Peak season, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes.’ Anxious to put an end to this small talk and get home, she finished her drink as quickly as politeness allowed and reached for her bag.

  ‘So thank you again!’ she said brightly, getting to her feet. ‘Your good deed for the day!’

  ‘I’d like to see you again, Maggie Haig,’ he said.

  And that was how it started. They went to bed the second time they met, and that was when she realized that, although enjoying a challenge, she was in danger of getting out of her depth. Accepting that she’d feel happier meeting him when other people were around, at least until she knew him better, she invited him to join the group that had gradually come together over the last year or so. Safety in numbers, she’d thought, without analysing the sentiment.

  Back at the flat she parked in the basement car park, gathered her shopping together and went up in the lift. She wouldn’t be much ahead of him, she realized; just time for a quick shower before putting the picnic together. The day had clouded over but there was little chance of rain.

  Showered and changed but with her hair still wet, she was putting a chilled bottle of Saumur in the hamper when the doorbell rang. He’d made good time, she thought as she went to open it.

  The man standing in front of her was the last one on earth she expected to see.

  ‘Hello, Mel!’ he said, and quickly put a hand on the door to prevent her instinctively closing it.

  She moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘Hello, Bruce.’

  ‘Well, the least you can do after all this time is invite me in.’

  ‘It’s … not really convenient,’ she began. ‘I’m expecting someone and we’re going straight out.’

  He pushed her to one side and went ahead of her into the flat, where he stood looking about him.

  ‘Done all right for yourself,’ he commented. ‘But then that was always your aim in life, wasn’t it? Whoever else got hurt in the process.’

  ‘Bruce, I really don’t—’

  ‘I thought you might be interested to hear how your vindictive little act of revenge played out. Incidentally, how much did they pay you for that package of spite?’

  ‘They didn’t, I just—’ She broke off. ‘How – how did you find me?’

  He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t flatter yourself that I’ve spent the last three years looking for you, because I haven’t. I was over here on business and extended the trip to take in a couple of weeks’ holiday. And lo and behold, who should I see being interviewed on TV but someone called Maggie Haig – same initials, that’s clever – who, despite a change of hair colour, was all too horribly familiar. And since you apparently had a garden centre in Bristol, I thought I’d look you up to see what you had to say for yourself.’

  ‘But – how did you find me here?’

  ‘Followed you back, didn’t I? Admittedly you led me quite a dance. I lost you a couple of times in the mall. Anyway, as I was saying, I thought you might be interested to hear the amount of havoc you caused. Vitriol in the press, clients leaving in droves, business on the brink of collapse and my marriage breaking down. That’s just for starters.’

  ‘Bruce, I’m sorry. I just—’

  ‘Oh, you’re sorry! That makes it all OK, then.’

  Her temper rose to meet his. ‘Well, it was all true, wasn’t it? You brought it on yourself! As for your marriage, it’s a wonder Sonia stayed with you as long as she did!’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Purely as a matter of interest, what straw broke the camel’s back, so to speak?’

  She bit her lip, remembering the hurt. ‘Your giving Madeleine Connaught my bracelet.’

  He raised his eyebrows mockingly. ‘All that destruction over a trinket? And I certainly don’t recall it being your bracelet.’

  He knew perfectly well what she meant, and she wasn’t going to argue with him.

  ‘I’d like you to go now, please,’ she said, steadying her voice.

  ‘Oh, you would? Well, I’ve not finished with you yet, madam! I reckon you owe me several thousand dollars, at a conservative estimate—’

  Her temper flared again. ‘I owe you nothing! Your business trebled in value durin
g the time I was with you! And after the way you treated me—’

  ‘I treated you? That’s rich! You betrayed something I told you in confidence, that no one else knew, and it almost destroyed me!’

  ‘Then I hope you were more careful in your pillow talk with Madeleine!’

  He seized her arm, pulling her towards him, his furious face inches from hers. ‘You scheming little bitch! I—’

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ Laurence! she thought. Thank God! ‘Get your hands off her, you bastard!’

  ‘Be careful who you call a bastard, sonny!’ Bruce flung over his shoulder.

  ‘I said get your hands off her!’

  ‘When I’m good and ready! And a word of warning, mate. If she’s with you, you want to watch your step or she’ll stick a knife in when you least expect it!’

  ‘Talking of knives!’

  They both glanced at him, and to her horror Maggie saw that he’d produced the pocket knife she’d often seen him use to slice apples, open letters, cut string.

  ‘For God’s sake, Laurence! Put it away!’

  ‘“When I’m good and ready!”’ he replied through gritted teeth. ‘Wasn’t that the phrase? Now, step away from her before I make you!’

  Bruce gave a laugh, turning to face him. ‘Are you threatening me, you arrogant Pommy bastard?’

  It was over in seconds. Laurence lunged, Maggie screamed and Bruce, a look of surprise on his face, fell backwards to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees beside him, feeling frantically for a pulse.

  ‘Ring for an ambulance!’ she cried. ‘Quickly, Laurence, for God’s sake.’

  She turned, looking up at him urgently, saw he was breathing heavily, with an oddly triumphant look on his face. ‘No point,’ he said. ‘He’s a goner!’

  ‘No, he can’t be!’ She began frantically to try to resuscitate him while Laurence stood impassively watching her until, realizing the futility of it, she sat back on her heels. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, ‘what have we done?’

  She began to shake. Laurence helped her to her feet, settled her in a chair and poured a glass of whisky for them both. She kept convulsively replaying the last few minutes in her head. This couldn’t have happened! It just couldn’t! It was an effort to keep her eyes averted from the still form on the carpet.

  A random thought struck her. ‘How did you get in?’ she asked dully.

  ‘One of you had left the door on the latch. Never mind that, though. Our first priority is to get him out of here.’

  She looked at him blankly. ‘We have to call the police. I’ll explain—’

  ‘No way! No police!’

  ‘But Laurence, we have to! How else—’

  ‘I said no police! Do you think I want to spend the next ten years or so behind bars?’

  ‘But surely you wouldn’t have to! You came to my rescue, as you saw it!’

  ‘They wouldn’t see it that way. Who the hell is he, anyway?’

  ‘Someone I knew in Australia. But you didn’t have to kill him!’

  ‘See? If that’s what you think, what do you imagine the police will make of it? Now shut up and listen: if I move my car right up against the lift, with luck we can tip him into it without anyone noticing.’

  She looked at him in horror. ‘We?’

  ‘I know I’m pretty strong, but it would be a hell of a lot easier with help. Between us we can get him upright and walk him into the lift. If anyone sees us they’ll assume he’s either drunk or stoned.’

  She stared at him speechlessly as he carried the two empty glasses back to the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll go and move it now, before the office crowd spill out. You can—’

  She stood up quickly. ‘I’m coming with you! I’m not staying here with … with him!’

  ‘Right, come on then.’

  They left the flat together. ‘And this time,’ Laurence said, ‘I’ll make sure the door’s properly shut.’

  It was a continuing nightmare. As the car park was private to residents of the flats it was relatively quiet and they’d been able to park Laurence’s car right alongside the lift. Back in the flat Laurence managed after a struggle to heave Bruce first into a sitting position, then, with Maggie’s reluctant help, to his feet.

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she whispered.

  ‘Not now, you’re not,’ Laurence said grimly. ‘Open the door quickly, while I balance him, and once we’re through, pull it shut behind us and ring for the lift. And pray no one comes up in it.’

  His unholy prayers were answered. The empty lift arrived and they staggered into it with Bruce between them. Their luck held in the car park. Only two cars had arrived in their absence, and they were at the far end. Laurence opened the boot and between them they managed to manoeuvre the body inside, bending Bruce’s long legs to enable them to close it as Maggie again struggled with nausea.

  ‘Get in!’ Laurence ordered, opening the passenger door.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘God knows, just away from here.’

  He started the engine and they emerged from the basement car park into the heavy rush-hour traffic. Everything looked so unbelievably normal.

  ‘You said you knew him in Oz; were you living together?’

  ‘No, but we were an item.’

  ‘So what did you do to make him react like this?’

  She was silent for a moment. Then she said slowly, ‘I informed the press about something he’d told me in private, which hit the headlines. It apparently had far-reaching effects.’

  ‘What kind of something?’

  ‘Something underhand he’d done at the start of his career, which helped him launch his business. It wasn’t illegal, but it wasn’t ethical either and it involved betraying the trust of a friend. So you could say he was hoist with his own petard.’

  She wiped her eyes. ‘I’ve regretted it since; it was an act of petty revenge because he was dumping me, but in the heat of the moment I’d not thought it through. I wanted to hurt him, but I hadn’t meant it to ruin his life. I tried to apologize just now, but he wouldn’t let me.’

  ‘Will he be missed, do you suppose? I mean, does he live here nowadays?’

  ‘No, he said he was over on business.’

  ‘Good, that gives us a margin, then.’

  Maggie had started to shake again. Pictures of herself and Bruce in happier days kept drifting into her head and she began to cry softly.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ Laurence said impatiently. ‘He was attacking you, wasn’t he?’

  ‘He still didn’t deserve that!’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, he got it.’

  It struck her how totally unrepentant he was, with no sign of regret for the unknown man whose life he’d snuffed out. On the contrary, he was enjoying the challenge of planning their next move.

  They drove for about an hour.

  Laurence broke a lengthy silence. ‘Our best bet is to throw him into the sea. I know a place where there are steep cliffs and you can drive quite a way up. I’ll check on my phone but I think high tide’s around midnight. With luck the currents will carry him a long way out and we’ll never hear of him again.’

  Maggie shuddered. ‘Someone might see us.’

  ‘Not if we wait till dark. We’ll park somewhere till it’s safe to go on and in the meantime you can show me how grateful you are that I rescued you.’

  ‘No!’ she said convulsively.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he contradicted, a smile in his voice.

  And later, having parked in a layby in a country lane, they climbed a gate into a field and, hating herself but unable to resist, she perforce lay down with him in the grass.

  The final part was the hardest. Bruce’s limbs had begun to stiffen and it was no easy task to disentangle his arms and legs from the confines of the boot and stagger with him up the rocky uneven hillside in the dark. Sweating and struggling, they finally reached the top and with one last, muscle-straining heave managed to tip him over the cliff
edge. After what seemed a lifetime, there was a loud splash from far below.

  They barely spoke on the long drive home. Laurence put the radio on and Maggie, emotionally exhausted, eventually fell asleep. Which was as well, since it was the only sleep she had that night. He dropped her outside the block of flats and, unable to face the lift and the memories it held, she stumbled, still half asleep, up the stairs and into the flat, just managing to reach the bathroom before she was violently sick.

  And that was the pattern for what remained of the night. She’d lie shivering in her bed until another wave of sickness claimed her and she’d stumble back to the bathroom. She lost count of how many nocturnal trips she made, and in the morning she was white-faced and shaky. Thank God it was Saturday. She emailed the group, giving a stomach upset as the reason for cancelling their meeting that night, and went back to bed.

  Monday evening. Maggie let herself into the flat, pushed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, steeling herself not to look at the floor where, she knew, that image would still be imprinted. Or perhaps it was branded on her retinas and would appear on whatever flooring she glanced at. This should never have happened; she still couldn’t believe it had. How could things have gone so impossibly wrong?

  She shuddered, pushed herself away from the door and went to pour a glass of whisky. Still nothing on the news. Suppose he was never found, that the strong tides had carried him far out to sea and he’d quite literally sunk without trace? If that could happen, she’d live like a saint for the rest of her life out of sheer gratitude. But even if he remained five fathoms deep, she reminded herself grimly, there was Laurence to contend with, and she’d not even begun to think about how to handle that.

  It had been a totally nightmarish weekend; she’d cancelled all arrangements, pleading the ongoing stomach upset, but someone was sure to drop in this evening. For the first time she regretted her policy of open house. Suppose she broke down in front of them? It had taken all her control to behave normally at work and the effort had drained the last of her strength. Everywhere she went – at the centre, in the supermarket, even in the street – she’d imagined people looking at her, as though they knew what had happened. That way, as she well knew, madness lay.