by Juliet Bell
‘A honeymoon baby.’ Edward smiled. It wasn’t, of course, but what did that matter? What mattered was that he and Cathy were making their own family now.
Edward’s pleasure crumbled as he saw Cathy turn her face, not to him, her husband and the father of the baby, but to Heathcliff. Her face was filled with regret and possibly fear. Heathcliff regarded them both with a still, empty stare. There was no doubting the emotion in the man’s face as he slowly turned to look at Edward. Heathcliff wore the face of a man who could commit murder. Edward felt a cold shiver of fear run up his spine.
‘Congratulations,’ Heathcliff said.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
October, 1990
‘Trixie. Where are you? Trixie!’
Isabelle pushed her way through the gate into the neglected orchard behind the house. She was certain she’d heard Trixie yapping a minute ago.
‘Trixie!’ The dog rarely left her side, and Isabelle had no idea what on earth would have prompted her to run off like that, although, to be honest, there were times Isabelle wanted to run off too. Since that awful lunch three weeks ago, when Edward had announced Cathy was pregnant, nothing had gone right.
She hadn’t seen Heathcliff. She would have phoned him, but she didn’t have his number. And it wasn’t in the phone book. Directory enquiries didn’t have it either. She’d walked past the pub several times, but only during the day. She didn’t like going past the Lion at night. She had seen Mick once, walking into the pub, the little boy, Harry, trotting alongside him, but there had been no sign of Heathcliff. She’d even walked up to the old Heights estate. She had only gone as far as the edge of it, though. The neglected houses and smattering of boarded-up windows made her nervous. She didn’t understand why Heathcliff wanted to live there when he could afford so much better.
Another yap. Trixie was definitely here. And she was upset about something. The noise was coming from the far corner of the old orchard, the part closest to the house.
He was standing half-hidden behind a tree. His eyes were fixed on the windows of the house, as if he was looking for someone.
He’d come for her. Isabelle’s heart jumped. She had known he cared for her. She ran her fingers through her hair, and rolled the waistband of her skirt over, to make it that little bit shorter. Then she pushed her way forward. Trixie was yapping again, dancing around Heathcliff’s heels. As Isabelle approached, he bent over and picked her up – holding her with one strong hand as he gazed at her, frowning. The yapping was replaced by a low growl Isabelle had never heard before.
‘You came,’ Isabelle said breathlessly.
Heathcliff turned towards her, his frown deepening a little. Isabelle stepped close to him and took Trixie from his hand. The little dog squirmed in her arms.
‘I tried to get in touch with you,’ Isabelle said. ‘After that terrible lunch. But I couldn’t find you. Were you here all the time? Waiting for me?’
Her hands were shaking. He did love her. He must to have waited here for her in the miserable wet weather. Day after day. Why hadn’t she looked? Probably because they’d never come here together. But that didn’t matter. They were here together now.
‘It’s been awful,’ Isabelle pouted. ‘Now Cathy’s pregnant, everything is all about her. We have to have all her favourite foods and do the things she wants to do. She acts like she’s sick all the time, but I’m sure that’s just to get all the attention. And Edward never leaves her side. Not for one minute. I wish I could get away.’
An intense stillness settled over Heathcliff. He looked down at her. ‘Then why don’t you?’
‘Well, I can’t. I have no money. No job. Nowhere to go.’
‘Why don’t you come away with me?’
The words made Isabelle’s heart leap. ‘Yes. Oh yes. Heathcliff, you know I’d go anywhere with you. Let’s go away together. Get away from them and this awful place.’
He reached his arms around her, pulling her to him like a closely guarded possession. ‘Yes. Let’s do that,’ he said.
But then, it seemed to take for ever. Heathcliff wouldn’t come to the house. Isabelle wasn’t sure if that was his choice, or if Edward had refused to let him in the door. He never rang her. She told herself that was because he didn’t want Edward to know what they were going to do. She had met Heathcliff in the orchard several more times, and signed some papers he’d shown her. It was all to do with getting married, he’d said. Heathcliff was doing everything he could for them to be together. That was all that mattered, and soon they would run away. A month passed. Surely it didn’t take that long for a registry marriage?
Another week passed. Isabelle was beside herself. They were going to Scotland where she could marry without Edward’s consent. Her birthday was a few weeks away. If they didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t need it.
Life at home was becoming unbearable. Cathy was getting harder and harder to live with as her pregnancy progressed. One afternoon, Cathy and Isabelle were in the garden. It was a bit chilly, but unusually sunny, and both were trying to soak up some rays before winter really arrived. Cathy was wearing a short skirt and a little top that exposed her belly. She was really showing now. There was a definite bump.
‘I hate being so fat!’ Cathy said, rubbing her hand over her stomach, pushing it even further forward so her condition could not be missed. ‘It’s awful. And I feel sick all the time. I hate being pregnant.’
Isabelle made some sympathetic noises. She saw a movement in the orchard. Heathcliff was there. Watching them. Her heart skipped a beat. Had he come to tell her everything was ready?
‘If you’re feeling poorly, you should go inside,’ Isabelle said to Cathy.
‘It’s too cold here anyway. I hate winter,’ Cathy pouted. ‘And it’s boring being stuck here with just you and Edward to talk to. But the doctors say I have to rest.’ Still complaining, Cathy went inside.
Isabelle waited until she heard the door shut, then she walked quickly around the corner of the house and pushed her way through the old gate into the orchard. Heathcliff was still standing where she had seen him. Still staring into the garden.
‘Heathcliff!’ she said breathlessly.
He turned towards her, his dark eyes glowing.
‘We leave tonight,’ he said brusquely. ‘Don’t bring much baggage. Meet me here when the others have gone to bed.’
Isabelle’s heart leaped. ‘Wonderful.’
Heathcliff gave her a long, piercing look, then turned and walked away. Isabelle had imagined he would kiss her passionately when this moment finally came, but she’d seen the emotion in his eyes when he looked at her. That was love and passion. That was why he hadn’t taken her in his arms – he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop, such was his desire for her. He wanted everything to be perfect for them, just as she did.
Isabelle could hardly contain her excitement as she packed a single small bag. Heathcliff had plenty of money. No doubt once they were married, he’d buy her lots and lots of beautiful things. She spent a good hour looking through her wardrobe for something to wear. A wedding dress. They would drive through the night tonight to Scotland, where they could be married first thing in the morning.
The best dress she owned was the dark-red dress she’d worn as Cathy’s bridesmaid. She wasn’t ever going to wear that again – and especially not when she married Heathcliff. She had a really nice off-the-shoulder white top, just like the one Madonna had worn. And a short black skirt. That would look good enough if she had flowers in her hands. She felt a moment’s regret that she wouldn’t be getting a long white dress and a veil, like Cathy had worn, but she was getting Heathcliff, and that was so much better.
She was ready by late afternoon, with her bag hidden under her bed. She lay back on the bed then, listening to music and dreaming of the night ahead. It was so romantic to be eloping. Scotland wasn’t that far away. Just a couple of hours’ drive. Then she and Heathcliff would spend the night together. She shivered. She had never been with any
boy. Edward had never let her go out alone. And when she’d gone out with Cathy, the boys had never noticed Isabelle. But tonight she and Heathcliff… She shivered at the thought, aware of a dull ache she’d never really recognised before.
Dinner was almost more than she could stand. Luckily Cathy still wasn’t feeling well and had stayed in bed. So Edward had cooked. Edward cooked a lot of the time. He was a good cook, but tonight she didn’t taste one mouthful of the food. As soon as the meal was done, Edward went to sit with Cathy in their room. That suited Isabelle. She was supposed to do the dishes, and she did, acting normally, not raising anyone’s suspicions. Then she yelled goodnight to her brother and went upstairs. She felt bad about leaving Edward, but once she and Heathcliff were married, she would come back and see him. Not immediately. There would be a honeymoon, and then she and Heathcliff would start their new life. They wouldn’t live in Gimmerton, of course. They’d set up house someone else. Maybe even London. How exciting that would be.
At last it was time. The house was silent and dark. Cathy and Edward would presumably be asleep already. Isabelle carefully slid her bag out from under the bed. Trixie was sleeping on top of the quilt. Isabelle picked her up. She wasn’t going to leave Trixie behind. Slowly and carefully she tiptoed down the steps to the back door. She twisted the lock and slipped out into the night.
The moon was full, but she kept to the shadows as she edged her way around to the gate leading to the orchard. It was already open. She could see a darker shadow under the apple tree. Heathcliff.
As she approached, the little dog in her arms began to squirm and yapped.
‘Shut that dog up,’ Heathcliff ordered.
‘Shhhh.’ Isabelle calmed the dog. ‘I hope that didn’t wake anyone.’
As she spoke, a light flashed on in a window on the top floor of the house. Isabelle melted back into the shadows as she glimpsed a shape at the window.
‘That’s Cathy’s room. Careful, she might see us.’
Heathcliff froze. He looked up at the window. ‘Yes. She might.’
Suddenly he grabbed Isabelle and pulled her close. One hand clutched at her hair as he dragged her head back and brought his lips down on hers. She staggered back into the moonlight as his tongue forced its way between her teeth, his lips crushing and bruising hers. He bent her back, so she grabbed at his shoulder to keep from falling. Then one of his hands was on her breast, squeezing it. She would have cried out, but his mouth never left hers. His hand continued to roam over her body, eventually forcing its way between her legs, groping at her and pinching her tender flesh.
She cried out with pain, and then he pushed her away. His breath was coming in ragged gasps as he cast one more look at the lighted window. Then he grabbed her arm and her bag and pulled her after him through the orchard. His car was parked on the road outside. Letting go of her for a moment, he opened the back door and flung her bag in. Isabelle grasped the car with both hands to keep from falling.
‘Get in,’ Heathcliff ordered.
Her hands were shaking so much she could barely open the door. She fell into the passenger seat and Trixie immediately jumped into her lap. Isabelle picked her up and buried her face in the dog’s soft fur. Trixie growled as Heathcliff got into the passenger seat. Without a word, he started the car and roared away from the Grange. The car fishtailed in the gravel, then gripped the road and they sped into the darkness at a dangerously high speed.
Isabelle stared out into the darkness, still shaken. She moved uncomfortably in her seat, trying to ease the discomfort she felt. She struggled to understand why Heathcliff had been so rough with her. He’d hurt her. Surely he didn’t mean to do that. He’d got carried away. That was it. His feelings for her were so strong. And they’d waited so long. He’d been overwhelmed by passion. And everyone said it hurt the first time. It would be better after they were married. When they weren’t racing away and afraid of being seen. It would be all right then. He would be gentle with her. And she would understand better how to please him.
She looked sideways at his profile, outlined in the headlights of the passing cars. He was so very handsome. He looked stern, though. Of course, he was worried about what they were doing. It was as difficult for him as it was for her. Things would be better tomorrow.
The drove in silence for a long time, until another feeling gave Isabelle the courage to speak.
‘I need the toilet.’
Heathcliff merely grunted and kept driving.
Isabelle said nothing more. They kept driving, passing a turnoff to the motorway services.
‘I really need to go to the toilet,’ she said again.
Heathcliff swore under his breath. At the next exit, he turned off and drove on to a smaller A road.
‘Where are you going?’ Isabelle asked.
‘Petrol,’ he said.
‘We could have stopped at the motorway services,’ Isabelle whined.
‘There are too many people at a motorway services.’ Heathcliff fell silent again.
Isabelle wasn’t sure why that mattered. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything wrong. There was no way the police would be looking for them. Would they? Maybe that had been Edward at the window. Maybe he’d reported her missing. If the police found them, they might drag her back home.
At last they drove into a small, shabby petrol station. Heathcliff pulled up to the pump. Leaving Trixie on the seat, Isabelle slid out of the car and made her way into the brightly lit shop. There was only one bathroom and it was filthy. Gingerly Isabelle went inside and did what she had to. She looked at her face in the stained mirror. She looked pale and upset. That wouldn’t do. Even if this wasn’t quite what she’d imagined, it was still her wedding day. She washed her hands and patted some water on her face. Then she pulled out her hairbrush and lipstick. That made her feel better.
By the time she had finished and walked outside, Heathcliff had finished filling the tank. While he went to pay, Isabelle took Trixie to the grass verge at the side of the forecourt. The tiny dog looked uncertain and nervous, but did as her mistress wished. They were first back to the car. When Heathcliff opened his door, Trixie suddenly leaped towards him, standing in his seat, yapping and snarling. Then she snapped at him.
‘No…’ Isabelle tried to pull her back, but, before she could, Heathcliff reached into the car and grabbed Trixie by the neck and flung her out of the car across the tarmac.
‘Trixie!’ Isabelle screamed.
The little dog landed heavily, but quickly got back to her feet. She darted back towards the car, not yapping now. Her teeth were bared in a vicious snarl. Heathcliff’s face contorted into something like a snarl too, as he turned and swung a vicious kick at the small dog, lifting her high into the air to smash against the front of the petrol pump.
Trixie didn’t give up. Slowly she staggered to her feet. One leg hanging at a horrible angle, she half-dragged herself back towards Heathcliff, still with bared teeth.
Heathcliff kicked her again, and this time the brave little dog didn’t get up.
Heathcliff slid into his seat and started the engine.
Isabelle was frozen with horror. The car jerked as Heathcliff roared out of the services.
‘No. We have to go back and get her,’ Isabelle cried, turning in her seat, trying to see where her dog was lying. ‘She’s hurt. How could you do that to her?’
‘It hurts when something you love is taken from you, doesn’t it?’ Heathcliff growled.
Still shaking and blinking back tears, Isabelle sank down into her seat. She told herself it was the stress of the night, the pressures of running away. Everything would be all right tomorrow. After they were married, everything would be fine.
Chapter Thirty
November, 1990
‘He’s kidnapped her! You have to do something.’ Edward was almost shouting with frustration.
‘Sir, I can understand your concern. However, from the look of things in her room, your sister went willingly. She packed a
bag and took her things.’ The middle-aged policeman looked at his notes. ‘Including, you said, her dog.’
‘She’s underage.’
‘She’s a week off eighteen.’
Edward took a deep breath. ‘I’m her legal guardian since our parents died. And he…’ Edward didn’t know how to describe Heathcliff. ‘Well, he’s older than her.’
‘Barely.’
‘And he’s a nasty piece of work. He’s Irish. I don’t know what he’s mixed up in. I want her found and brought back.’
‘You tried to stop her seeing him?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘It’s not uncommon for young girls to do this sort of thing. All I can do is put in a report.’ The policeman was starting to lose patience. ‘But she’s seventeen, and if she went with him willingly…’
‘But this man has a past. He’s dangerous. Ask anyone.’
‘So you say, sir. Is your wife here? Perhaps if we could speak to her. Your sister might have shared her plans.’
Edward shook his head. He wasn’t having a policeman anywhere near Cathy. She’d have to know, but he needed to think about how to tell her. It would be a shock. He told himself she’d be worried for Isabelle. He told himself she wouldn’t jump out of bed and rush into the night after that man. ‘They’re not friends. Isabelle would never have told Cathy what was going on. Anyway, my wife is resting. She doesn’t even know about this.’
‘All right then.’ The officer shuffled his feet. ‘There’s not much we can do at this point. I expect she’ll be in touch in a few days. She’ll probably come home of her own accord. They often do.’
‘He won’t let her come home,’ Edward said with utter certainty. ‘I’m afraid he’ll hurt her.’
The policeman hesitated for a few moments. Edward’s heart sank. The police really weren’t going to do anything.
He stood at the bottom of the stairs for a very long time, trying to decide how to tell Cathy what had happened. He was no closer to an answer when he heard Cathy’s voice calling him from above.