by Julia Crouch
‘Look Daddy.’
Shut up Jack, Lara thought.
‘It can’t be Stephen’s,’ Marcus said finally. ‘There’s loads of jeeps like this one around here. And I bet every one of them is covered in scratches from all the manly off-roading their butch owners put them through. Come on, Jacko. Time to go. Or Daddy’ll be late for work.’
‘But …’
‘No buts. Gina’s expecting us and I don’t want to be late.’
‘When’s Mummy coming back, though?’
‘She’ll be back to make your tea.’
Lara worked hard to stop herself heaving a sigh of relief as they resumed their journey towards Gina’s house. Thankfully, like any doting young son, Jack had believed his mistaken father about the jeep. Lara was glad, for once, that Marcus was quite so dense.
After what seemed like yet another lifetime to her, during which she had to slowly and smoothly turn on to her back under the blanket to cool down and breathe more freely, the door opened and she felt Stephen move into the driver’s seat. She heard him put some things on the front seat, then his hand was on top of her.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Jack and Marcus went by,’ she said, catching his hand in her fingers.
‘I know. I had to wait inside till they went,’ he whispered. ‘Stay there until we get out of town.’
Lara held on to his hand. ‘Couldn’t we just nip into the house and get my contact lenses? It’s too early for Olly and Bella to be up.’
‘Too risky,’ Stephen said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here as quickly as we can.’
She felt the vehicle lurch as he swung it across the road in a U-turn and back towards home. Lara knew they would also be passing Gina’s house and she prayed Marcus wouldn’t see Stephen driving the jeep. But then again, he’d only seen him in his circus guy disguise, so probably wouldn’t recognise Sam Miller. In any case, she had waded in beyond any point of return. She had to put herself in Stephen’s hands. Which, of course, was exactly where she wanted to be.
There was no one she trusted more in the entire world.
Thirty-Nine
‘ALL CLEAR,’ STEPHEN SAID TO LARA AFTER A BRIEF SEARCH OF THE house for any sign of intruders. ‘Are you going to be OK for a few moments? I’ve just got a couple of things to deal with in here.’ He indicated the package in his hand and his study, where Lara had called Marcus and told him the lie. ‘Then we have the rest of the day together. Help yourself.’ He showed her a tall bookshelf to the side of the kitchen area. ‘And here’s some music for you.’ He flicked through an iPod perched on a small, gorgeous wooden sound system. The room filled with Morrissey.
‘More of the charming man, then?’ Lara said, browsing through the bookcase.
‘This is newer. Years of Refusal, it’s called,’ Stephen said, folding his arms, leaning back against the wall and watching her. ‘But he speaks for us just as strongly as ever. He’s got different things to say, but I always get this feeling he’s telling the story of my life. You know?’
‘What would Morrissey say if he knew Stephen Molloy was his biggest fan?’ she said, looking up at Stephen’s perfect, angular features, the glamour of him, the way he was so completely a star.
‘You know what? He wouldn’t give a shit. And that’s why I love him.’
Lara smiled.
‘I’ll see you in a couple of minutes,’ Stephen said, going over to her and holding her close. ‘Don’t go anywhere.’
‘I don’t think I can,’ she said. ‘With these eyes.’
She flicked through the spines on Stephen’s bookshelves, leaning close to read the titles. There were lots of cookery books, and a couple of rows of modern poetry. At eye-level a long shelf of art books – theoretical works and monographs – stretched the width of the room. Searching though the alphabetised titles, she found the Alice Neel book Bella had looked at and loved so much. She heaved it out of the shelves and carried it to the sofa, where she propped it on her knees, squinting forward to look at the pictures.
As she flicked through the book, one page had been looked at so much it opened itself. When she saw it, Lara felt a shock of recognition. The painting on that page, of a woman called Nancy, lying on a bed with her two babies, could have been of herself and the twins when they were small. It wasn’t only the physical resemblance, though that was striking in itself. The look in the woman’s eyes – as if these two monsters had somehow landed in her life unannounced, to possess her – captured Lara exactly in her early days with the babies. The grey shadow looming on the white wall behind her trapped her to the bed. It was as much part of the story as the figures.
Lara gazed at the image and her eyes filled with tears. Trapped was the right word. Those babies had unwittingly built a prison for her out of duty, fatigue and love; through no fault of their own, they had sapped her and made her too timid.
But now, finally, Stephen had given her back her courage.
The door to his study opened and he stood there, holding a piece of paper, a smile spotlighting his face.
‘What is it?’ Lara said, closing the book and putting it on the sofa beside her.
‘Something incredible has happened,’ Stephen said. He held a piece of paper out to her. ‘It’s a lab report.’ He sat down and put his arm round her, drawing her close. ‘Look!’ He ran his finger down a list of figures, to a block of text headed Conclusion. ‘Read it, Lara.’
‘ “Based on the DNA Analysis, the alleged father, Sam Miller …” ’
‘That’s me,’ Stephen said.
‘ “Cannot be excluded as the biological father of the Child, Oliver Wayland …” ’ Lara stopped and clasped her hand over her mouth.
‘Read on,’ Stephen said, holding her close.
‘“Because they share the same genetic markers.” I can’t go on, Stephen,’ she said.
He took the paper from her and carried on reading. ‘ “The probability of the stated relationship is indicated below, as compared to an untested, unrelated person of the same ethnicity.” And below, Lara, it says this,’ Stephen said, his face burning with triumph. ‘ “Probability Percentage: ninety-nine point nine nine four two per cent.” ’
‘But how did you—’ Lara’s mind was whirling.
‘I’d got this lab lined up in town for a rush job. I thought it was going to be hard to get samples, but Olly’s hair in my hat, the night of the circus, was a godsend. Lots of roots.’
Lara drew away from Stephen. She felt as if her chest was caving in.
‘All these years I had this suspicion … and this was what it was all about,’ he said, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face his own triumphant gaze. ‘I wondered when you told me you were expecting, but you were so sure of your dates I put it to the back of my mind.’
‘No.’ Lara broke away from him again and put her hands over her eyes.
‘I found out it was twins you know. Soon after they were born.’
‘If you had doubts,’ Lara said, turning to him, ‘why didn’t you come back and tell me?’
‘I wasn’t in a position to do so back then. I was broke, remember? You couldn’t get tests like these back then anyway.’ He waved the paper at her. ‘Nothing could have been proved. And even if it could, if I was wrong, what then? I did the honourable thing. I got out. I behaved like the very soul of honour. You have to respect that, Lara. But I’ve always wondered. And I’ve done my research. Do you know how difficult it is to date a twin pregnancy?’
‘Yes,’ Lara said in a small voice. Tears were rolling down her cheeks now.
‘And if we take the fact that you’re not exactly regular—’
‘How did you—’ She looked up at him, but he seemed distant from her, his energy making him unreachable.
‘What you thought was ten weeks could easily have been just eight …’
‘But the dating scan?’
‘Even now, dating scans before twenty weeks are only accurate in about ninety per cent of cases.’ Ste
phen recited this like a script. ‘And,’ he said, ‘back then it would have been even less. Again, the twin thing would complicate it. I always had my doubts, you know. And then, when I saw the first photographs of Bella and Olly …’
‘What?’
‘And Olly particularly struck me. Surely you noticed how alike we are?’
‘Yes. YES. STOP!’ Lara said, putting her hands over her ears.
They both sat still for what seemed like hours. Eventually, Stephen took her hand.
‘I thought you’d be pleased,’ he said, bringing his mouth close to her ear.
‘It’s all such a mess,’ Lara said. ‘It was bad. But now it’s even worse. I can’t think straight, I can’t even—’
‘It’s simple though.’ Stephen laughed. ‘He’s got no claim on them now. It’s all about us, Lara! We have so much time to make up. You, me, our kids.’ He kissed her neck.
‘This is too brutal, too sudden. I’ve got to go,’ she said, tearing herself away from him and standing up. ‘I need time to take it in.’ All she could see now was Marcus, alone, coming back to a cold, empty house in Brighton after a terrible tour of some godforsaken play with no one to greet him, no one really to live for, the family he thought he had as good as dead.
She ran across the kitchen to the back door and turned the handle. It was locked.
‘Unlock the door. Please, Stephen. Let me out.’
He stood and walked slowly towards her. ‘I can’t let you out there. It’s far too dangerous, remember? With Elizabeth Sanders. She might strike any minute.’ He took her face in his hands. ‘And you can’t really drive now. Not with those eyes.’ He bent down and kissed each of her eyelids.
She tried to move away, but he held her too tightly.
‘Not now, Stephen. I need a bit of time.’
‘There’s been too much time.’
‘It’s all been such a waste.’ She looked up at him, her eyes overflowing, the tears tumbling out of them and running down her cheeks. ‘All those years and now it’s such a mess. The children – I can’t. Their lives pulled away from them, everything a lie.’
‘Shh,’ he said, pulling her to him. She felt him harden against her, press into her. What was he trying to do?
‘Not now Stephen. I can’t – please drive me back.’
‘We’ve only just started though. We’ve got so much catching up to do,’ he said, his lips buried in her hair. He pulled her gently but firmly down on to the kitchen floor. She tried to move him away, but he was insistent. Then he was straddling her. His hand worked at his fly.
‘No, Stephen,’ she said. This was not right. It was not what she wanted.
He was on her, his hand now up her skirt, his fingers up inside her.
‘You can’t leave me now, you know,’ he said, closing his mouth over hers. She gasped as, in one rough movement, he pushed himself deep inside her. It hurt, because she didn’t want it, and he thrust so violently. Her head whirled as if she were seasick – this was the opposite of the worshipful lovemaking she had received during the night. Struggling underneath him, trying to get away, seemed only to excite him more. He was staking his claim and she no longer had any part in it.
‘Please Stephen …’ she said, but he was beyond hearing her.
‘I love you Lara,’ he said, over and over, until he came, again inside her.
When it was over, after he had lain, panting, on top of her, the rhythms of his breath in counterpoint to the heaves of her sobbing, he knelt up at her side.
‘You don’t know how much time it has been for me,’ he said. As he spoke, he removed her clothes. ‘Look at you. You’re so lovely. I’ve never loved anyone else but you, Lara. You’re like a disease for me. I’ve been waiting all this while to be with you, waiting for those twins to grow up and be old enough for you to leave Marcus. I’d never, ever, split up your family. You know that. I am chivalry, I am.’
He laughed, but there was no joy in it. ‘The irony is though, by leaving you, I did just that. We could have had a happy little family, Lara. You, me, our babies. It could have been perfect.’
Naked now beneath him, her eyes screwed tight against the light that filtered though the shaded kitchen windows, Lara nodded, wretched. What happiness they had lost. Could he be blamed for losing his balance over what he had just found out? She opened her eyes and looked up at him. ‘What about Jack though? Where’s the chivalry in that?’
He shifted and lay down on the floor next to her, stretching his fully clothed body against her naked skin. He cradled her head next to his. She held herself stiffly against him.
‘Fair do’s Lara,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘He’ll have to be mine now. After all, Marcus had my two for all those years.’
Again, Lara struggled to get away from him, but he held her tight.
‘Didn’t you wonder sometimes, Lara? When you looked at our boy, and he looked so like me? Didn’t you ever wonder that you might have got your dates wrong?’
Lara nodded miserably. She had, but it was all too late by the time the thought struck her, and she had buried it away, far, far beneath her consciousness.
‘Oh Lara. Why didn’t you come and get me and tell me? Just think how happy we would have been. That was so bad of you. In a way, I suppose, you robbed us both.’
‘It would have made so many people so miserable,’ she whispered.
‘And this is going to be easy?’
Still holding her down, he got to his feet. Then he scooped her up, pressing her close to him as if she were his baby. She realised, from the shuddering of his chest, he was crying.
‘Oh Stephen,’ she said. ‘I’m so, so, sorry.’ She stroked his cheek. His tears tracked down his face, along the skin of her arm and around her hip. Like a thread, tying her to him.
‘Think how happy we would have been,’ he said again. Holding her tight to him, he carried her up the stairs.
‘I need to go, Stephen,’ she said, trying to appeal to what reason he might have left.
‘You love me though, Lara, don’t you? You’ve always loved me. You said so.’
He laid her on his bed and swiftly curled up behind her, to hold her in place, as he wept into her shoulder. She could barely breathe, he held her so tightly. They lay there for a long time, his face pressed into her back and, in the end, her system shutting down after the shocks it had been subjected to, she tumbled into an obliterating sleep.
She woke much later to the phone ringing, echoing across the bare wooden house. The day had disappeared. Its final throes of light striped the room in long, slanting shards across the bedroom floor. Stephen’s arms were still wrapped, vice-like, around her. The phone stopped. Then it rang again.
‘That’ll be Marcus,’ Lara said. ‘Wondering where I am.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Stephen kissed the back of her neck.
A scream lifted into the dusk from somewhere outside, somewhere up the hill behind the house. Others joined it. In the cage of Stephen’s arms, Lara tensed.
‘What’s that?’ she said, her heart racing.
‘Coyotes on the kill,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘Like a group of girls being murdered in a field.’
The phone stopped ringing.
‘Now. I think we need a bath. Don’t you?’ He moved away from her and rolled her on to her back. ‘So lovely,’ he said, as he looked at her.
‘But Jack will need picking up,’ Lara said. ‘They’ll all be wondering where I am.’
‘Don’t worry, love,’ he said. ‘That’s been taken care of.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I rang James this morning and told him the tree was still blocking the road, and it’s not likely to be cleared up for a couple of days. He said he’d tell Marcus. He’s very good like that, James.’
Lara curled back up on to her side and looked away.
‘It means we can just relax and be together,’ Stephen said, as he rose and went through to run the big, round bath. ‘We’ve got all the time
in the world.’
Lara lay there and considered the slenderness of her options. Even if she managed to get out of the house, there was no way she could drive down to Trout Island. Without her contact lenses she could only see a foot in front of her. If she walked it would take hours. The only way she knew was on the road, so Stephen would be able to follow her. If she went through the forest, though … But there were miles of woods out there, with bears and coyotes and snakes.
The phone rang again. Before Lara got across the bed to pick it up, Stephen was there, his hand on the receiver.
‘I don’t think you should be answering phones, Lara,’ he said. ‘Leave it to the professional.’ He picked up the phone. ‘Hello? Oh, hi, Marcus. Yes she’s fine. I think she’s having a little nap. No, no.’ Stephen held his finger up to his mouth as he listened to what Marcus had to say. ‘It’s too far to walk, no. They’re very inefficient round here. We’re just going to have to sit it out. Oh. That’s good.’ He listened a little more then laughed at something Marcus said. ‘OK. Yes, cheers mate then. Yeah. ’Bye.’
Lara looked up at Stephen.
‘He says Jack had a great day at Gina’s and she’s offered to have him overnight.’
‘That’s good then,’ Lara said, wondering what Marcus had told Gina about where she was, and whether her friend had drawn any conclusions.
‘Tub time.’ Stephen picked Lara up and carried her through to the bathroom, where he put her into the hot, deep-drawn bubble bath. He didn’t get in, but knelt beside her. Then, with great care and attention, he washed her, using his bare, soaped hand to cover every inch of her skin.
‘I think I owe you for earlier,’ he said, bending to kiss her breasts. ‘I’m sorry about that. I got carried away.’
His expert hands caressed her, his beautiful mouth explored her, until, despite herself, she felt herself turning inside out.
‘Stay there, Lara,’ he said, getting up and leaving her while the water still lapped around her, while she still pulsed deep inside. ‘I’ve got just the thing for you.’
Lara did as she was told, wondering what on earth he had in store for her next. After about half an hour he returned, with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and one glass, which he put on the console by the bath, across the room from her. She could do with a drink, she thought. There was nothing else she could do now and it was dark outside.