by Dawson, H A
‘They were coming here?’
Queenie nodded and looked to Leanne. ‘My main concern was for you. I couldn’t bare it if . . . anyway, I ran as fast as I could, but I had to go a different way to them if I was going to overtake them. When I arrived, I saw Ann through the window. I was going to knock, let her know what was happening, but I arrived a fraction late.’ She brushed her hands across her face. ‘I can still hear the gunshots.’
‘That must have been awful.’
Queenie was quiet.
‘Why didn’t he shoot me or Gran?’ Leanne asked.
‘You must have been away for the weekend. I was never more grateful. Anyway, I called the police. They arrested Trevor later.’ Her eyes flitted. She looked to her lap. ‘I gave Teresa an alibi, said I’d seen her in the fields, running after him.’
Leanne gawked.
‘Trevor was there,’ Queenie continued, ‘but the gun was in Teresa’s hand. I saw it as clear as day.’
Leanne’s jaw dropped. If a woman ever had the motive to shoot anyone, it was a grieving mother. ‘Surely, it was you they were after.’
‘It was. Teresa told me later that she’d heard I was still around. She assumed I was still living with them. I didn’t think anyone had seen me.’
‘But why kill them?’
‘She was unstable. I think she would have killed anyone in her path.’
‘Why give her an alibi?’
Queenie raised an eyebrow, puzzled. ‘It was the least I could do. Even so, I still thought she might come after me, despite what I’d done, so I left. I’m sorry.’
‘Why didn’t you ever come back for me?’
‘I figured Janet would do a better job.’
‘But you hated her.’
‘I know, but she was right. I was everything she said - drunk, doing drugs, sleeping around – and in effect, I’d just killed a child and seriously injured Fiona and Teresa. I was better off out of the way. Trouble followed me around.’
‘Gran should have tracked you down.’
Queenie shrugged. ‘I doubt she would have found me. I didn’t keep in touch with anyone.’
‘Why return? Why now?’
‘I heard about Janet’s death, and as the house had never been sold, I wondered if you’d return. I couldn’t believe it when I saw you. As crazy as it sounds, I still imagined you as a little girl. You . . . you are so beautiful.’
Flushing, Leanne lowered her head and covered her stomach with her hand.
‘My plan was to get to know you as a friend. I had no intention of telling you who I was.’
‘Why not?’
‘Would you? You’d want to know all the details – why I parted from Janet, what had happened to Fiona, etcetera, etcetera – and I wasn’t ready for that.’
Leanne was thoughtful.
‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘Teresa spotted me straight away, and although she didn’t threaten me she hadn’t forgiven me. I decided my only option was to try to get the upper hand. I . . . I couldn’t risk it all coming out.’ She passed a nervous glance. ‘And it seemed to be working.’
‘I really wish you’d come back for me.’
Queenie looked away. ‘I’m sorry. I did love you, very much. I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking.’
‘Isn’t there something you’re missing?’ Luke asked.
Leanne spun to face him, and then caught sight of the anxiety on Queenie’s face.
‘Leanne is not your daughter.’
‘I didn’t steal her!’
‘No, I know.’ He turned to Leanne. ‘We contacted the hospital again and this time the administrator checked the records properly. Karen, or Queenie as she likes to be known, had registered in the maternity wing twice within eight months. We thought it was a little unlikely considering both babies went to full-term.’
‘I was devastated when I lost Lydia.’
Leanne gawked. ‘So you did take me from someone else.’
‘I was doing her a favour. She pretended to be me – said something about not wanting to leave a trail.’ She glanced up and caught her eye. ‘She wasn’t perfect, but she was no way as bad as I was. She was a saint in comparison and couldn’t cope with being an unmarried mother.’
‘W-who are you talking about?’
‘Fiona! I was doing Fiona a favour, and more than anything, I feared that one day she’d want you back. I thought it better to hand you over on my terms than wait for her to snatch you.’
‘Fiona was . . . was my mother?’
‘Yes, that’s right. I wanted to come clean and tell everyone whose child you were, but she wouldn’t let me. I thought it could help repair my relationship with Janet and Roy. Unfortunately, Fiona was prepared to go to the ends of the earth to keep her secret.’
‘I can’t believe this. Did Gran know?’
Queenie shrugged.
‘So she still thought I was stolen.’
Her eyes drifted and a look of nervousness gathered in her face. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
Chapter 39
Leanne snuggled into Steven, his warm, soft body and musky scent reassuringly uplifting. She leaned her head onto his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his stomach, and focused on the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
‘Queenie’s right, you know,’ he said.
‘Oh?’
‘You are beautiful.’
Her skin warmed. She lowered her head. ‘I’m not.’
‘You’re perfect.’
‘I’m fat.’
‘Fat?’
He pulled away, raised her chin with his fingers, and forced her to look. ‘You are not fat.’
‘I’m not slim.’
‘You’re definitely not fat. You’re curvy, all woman. I don’t like these scrawny women that are flesh and bone. There’s nothing sexy about them. You have all the curves in the right places.’
‘Can we talk about something else?’
He grinned. ‘You’re blushing.’
Leanne nestled into him. There was silence - no sound of a ticking clock, not the gentle pattering of rain on the windows, and not the buzzing of her thoughts in her head. It was a wonderful feeling.
‘Do you think Queenie was telling the truth about Fiona?’ Steven asked.
She raised herself upright. ‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t know, but after everything we’ve learned about her, it’s difficult accepting she has a compassionate side. To look after her sister’s baby is huge.’
‘I agree. She sounded like a free spirit. Why would she give everything for me? I’m not sure it makes sense.’
He curled his fingers around her hand. ‘We could try asking her again, although I don’t think she’ll tell us anything more.’
‘I think you’re right.’ She reached for a photo of Fiona resting on the table. ‘Do you think she looks pregnant?’
‘Not really.’
‘Luke and Imogen thought so. She is a bit chunkier around her middle.’
‘You do look a bit like her,’ he said. ‘You have the same eyes and nose.’
‘Do we?’
He leaned towards her and dropped a big sloppy kiss on her cheek. She pulled a face and wiped away the moisture with the side of her hand.
‘I’m glad you’re feeling a bit happier.’
‘No point being miserable,’ he said, ‘Teresa is in good hands.’
‘She could still come out of the coma.’
‘I hope so.’ He stroked her leg. ‘I wish she’d shared her troubles. Geoff hadn’t been much comfort. It makes sense now why there was so much friction.’
‘There’s no way I’m defending him,’ she said, ‘but I’m amazed he covered for her the way he did after she had a child by another man.’
‘It was probably his only chance to be a father.’
Silence.
‘Have you seen him at the hospital?’ she asked.
‘No, I haven’t. I hope he’s not left her.’
She squeezed his h
and. ‘Try not to worry.’
She reached for Fiona’s journal resting on the table and flicked through the pages.
‘Are you still angry with Janet?’ he asked.
‘Not so much, but I do still wonder why she couldn’t have told me something. She could have just said she’d lost contact with Karen. Why claim she was dead?’
‘The lies may have started early on. It would have been difficult admitting it later, especially when she would have been expecting you to have been asking lots of questions.’
‘I like to think I’m a reasonable person. I would have understood. Maybe I could have persuaded her to live in Honeysuckle Cottage again, or at least sell it. I wonder how much of her life was spent feeling tortured by the turn of events.’
‘The fire and the accidents must have changed her. She had a lot to thank Ann and Gerry for, and discovering them dead, a consequence, in part, due to her daughter’s action’s, must have been hard to deal with - hence, her decision to refuse the inheritance.’
Leanne dared not say it, but she wondered how much of what happened had been her grandmother’s fault. If she hadn’t treated her two daughters differently, then Queenie would not have fled and Fiona would not have had to hide her pregnancy. It seemed as though Janet and Roy had struggled so much with their first daughter that they overcompensated with their second. For their third opportunity, that was, for her, they somehow got it right.
‘I do feel a bit sorry for Gran. What a burden. I wish I could have helped her release her pain.’
‘You probably did without knowing.’
‘Do you think she died believing I’d been stolen?’
‘I think she must have realised she’d made a mistake. I think Queenie did too. Did you notice the nervousness in her expression when she was asked if she knew about Fiona being my mother?’
He nodded.
‘I suppose it’s not important, although it is infuriating.’
‘There’s no point in worrying about it.’
‘No. Although I suspect she might have been aware she got her baby-stealing theory wrong. Queenie said she used her powers to gain the truth. Assuming she had, she jumped to an erroneous conclusion. It could be what put her off anything paranormal.’
‘Why do you say that?’
She turned to face him. ‘Think about it . . . if she hadn’t accused Queenie of stealing the baby, Queenie wouldn’t have started an argument with Fiona, etcetera, etcetera.’
He did not respond.
‘Luke did warn me that the interpretations are what are dangerous.’
He reached for her hand and made small circles on her palm. ‘It’s a pity nothing good came out of it.’
‘I do miss her . . . and Phillip.’
His expression turned serious. ‘I’m sorry I overreacted when you saw me with Queenie. It reminded me of what Andrea did and how she treated me. I felt suffocated.’
‘I’m sorry too. I should have trusted you.’
The telephone sounded. Leanne skipped across the room.
‘Tyler, about time! Where have you been?’
‘I’ve been studying at the library.’
She glanced at Steven. He was flicking through Fiona’s journal. ‘Why aren’t you doing it at home?’
‘It’s too noisy.’
‘Are you sure you’re happy living with Darren?’
Tyler hesitated and then mumbled a positive reply.
Her heart quickened and she held her breath. ‘I’d like you to return home to me.’
‘Okay.’
She was stunned. ‘Are you sure?’
‘If it’s what you want.’
A smile broadened her face. ‘It is. That’s fantastic. I’ll come over for you tomorrow night.’
‘Leave it until the weekend.’
‘And you won’t change your mind?’
‘No. Thanks, Mum.’
They chatted for a little while longer and then she ended the call.
‘He’s coming home,’ she cried.
Steven grinned.
‘I think he was waiting for me to ask him. He sounded happy. Oh, Steven, my baby’s returning.’
‘I’m glad you’re happy.’
‘We had a chat and he told me he’d been struggling to deal with losing Phillip and Gran. Apparently, it was easier to deal with at Darren’s house.’
‘That makes sense.’
‘Yes, to me too. I preferred being here for the same reasons. I should have realised what his problem was.’
Steven’s expression grew serious. ‘Where are you going to stay?’
‘Oh.’ Her smile slipped. ‘I don’t know. We can work something out, can’t we?’
‘Of course we can.’ His eyes darkened as he glimpsed at the journal. ‘There’s something here you should see.’
‘What is it?’
‘It’s an entry from Fiona.’
Leanne scampered across and read the short piece of writing.
He wanted me again tonight and despite my usual persistence, telling him no, forcing him back, and kneeing him in the groin, he was relentless. It sickens me that I am so helpless, physically unable to overpower him and entirely inept. I am an adult, a grown woman, and I should have a voice. I should be able to enjoy my pregnancy yet I cannot even admit to it and certainly not to those closest to me.
He paints a picture of me in his mind. It is a beautiful image, angelic, but one that I can barely adhere to, despite my trying. Every time I step out of line, word gets back and I am punished. He is everywhere, yet he is nowhere, creeping out of the darkness, watching my every move, every breath. His obsession, which has continued for years, repulses me. I vomit. I curl up in the darkness. I cry solitary tears.
I obey his every whim. He terrifies me. I have no choice.
I have decided to go to see my ever-faithful sister. I cannot tell her the truth about him, but I can ask one massive favour, if only to protect my unborn baby. I treat her despicably, forever taking advantage and continuously lying, and although a feeble excuse, I know it is a reaction to him and one I cannot control.
Tonight, at least, I shall sleep peacefully. My baby will soon be safe.
Chapter 1
The old woman slouched on a chair with her head resting on her favourite worn-out velvet cushion, her hands clasped on her lap, and her legs parted. Her mouth was agape, displaying her yellowed broken teeth, her eyes flickered beneath her eyelids, and her crumpled skin sagged as it rested upon her shrunken face. In the air, there was a faint smell, the smell of death, and Leanne shuddered and tightened her arms across her grief-stricken body.
Her heart was bulging and her breathing restricted, each intake of air more difficult than the last. A low-pitched moan escaped her lips. Another death was imminent, another loss of a loved one creeping ever closer. She eased herself onto the edge of the sofa, her hazy eyes resting on the old woman; yet she saw little, her mind too traumatised to take note.
Janet was her grandmother, but to Leanne, she was her mother. Their relationship was special; Janet guided, comforted, and shared. They had laughed and cried together, sharing joy and anxiety, from the birth of Leanne’s son to the sudden death of her husband several weeks before. A solitary tear trickled down her cheek.
Janet had to survive; Leanne did not believe she could not cope with another bereavement. Her gut twisted as panic crept up her body. She pressed her palm flat against her upper chest and felt the gentle rise and fall of her ribcage. She needed Janet now more than ever and prayed that her grandmother would find the energy and desire to fight for another day.
The sound of footsteps dragged Leanne away from her ponderings, and she turned her head and looked to the doorway. Tyler, her son, leaned against the frame, his slender physique, soft creamy pink skin, and vivid blue eyes contrasting with the sight of her aged grandmother. Yet they were both beautiful, each signifying something different.
‘How is she?’ he asked.
Leanne eased herself from t
he sofa, exited the room, and headed to the kitchen. ‘Asleep. I don’t think it’s going to be long.’
‘There’s no chance she’ll recover.’
‘No, I don’t think so. She didn’t eat again this morning. I think her body has given up.’
‘Can’t we do anything?’
She shook her head.
Distraught, he dropped his head and traced a tile on the floor with the edge of his trainer.
‘She’s had a good life,’ she said, ‘we have to stay strong. She won’t want to see us upset.’
His mouth clamped. Tearful, he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away.
‘I wish there was something I could do to make it better.’
He spun back to face her. ‘Why now? Why us? What have we done wrong?’
She edged closer to him, resting her arm on his back. ‘You mustn’t think like that. Her time has come, as it does to us all eventually.’
‘It’s not fair.’
‘No, it’s not. Death never is.’
There was silence and their mutual grieving entwined.
‘I still miss Dad.’
She swallowed a lump in her throat. ‘I do too.’
He stomped across the kitchen to the fridge and reached for the orange juice. ‘He was selfish. He should never have gone to France. Didn’t he care?’
‘You know he did. He couldn’t have predicted his accident.’
‘He wouldn’t have gone if he’d loved us.’
‘Of course, he loved us. But he loved paragliding too. I could never have stopped him.’
‘You should have tried. He knew it was dangerous, especially in mountainous regions. He put his own pleasures before us.’
‘Tyler, you mustn’t think like that.’
‘Why? It’s true. He used to talk about the thrill of flying, yet at the same time, he wouldn’t let me have ago, at least not until I was bigger and stronger. He said it wasn’t safe.’ His voice increased in volume, his anguish deepening. ‘I’m sixteen . . . nearly as strong as he was. If he thought I could die, he must have realised he could too.’ His lip trembled and his grip on the glass tightened, whitening his knuckles. ‘I want him back.’