by Chris Curran
Eve twisted towards him. ‘I’m not interested in that. If I ever got to meet Maggie it would just be to talk about what happened to Stella.’
Another small laugh. ‘I very much doubt you’d get the truth.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Obviously I’m not her biggest fan, but that isn’t just because she had an affair with my dad. She was, and probably still is, a nasty and utterly ruthless woman.’
He’d never spoken so passionately before and she had to know why. ‘What do you mean?’
A pause. ‘There’s something you should know about her. Before Dad’s accident she was involved in some kind of art scam with him.’
She moved and this time he did touch her knee, just a fleeting touch to make her listen, but she was very aware of the place where his hand had rested as he went on, ‘Then, when Dad was crippled, when they were desperately trying to hang on to the gallery and we were even in danger of losing our home, Maggie tried to blackmail him.’
Another shiver went through her, nothing to do with the cold this time as he carried on.
‘My mum only told me about it because I was so angry with them. They always promised the gallery would come to me eventually and I blamed Dad for losing it.’
Long brown hands relaxed on the wheel, expensive watch gleaming on his wrist, but inside she imagined that young boy, lanky and probably with spots, not knowing he would soon be handsome.
He went on, ‘I was an arse and Mum must have realized I needed a dose of reality. She admitted Dad had been stupid. But it wasn’t all his fault.’
He glanced towards Eve. ‘She told me that even though Maggie knew how ill Dad was she threatened to expose the forgery thing unless they made it worth her while.’
Eve gasped. ‘What happened?’
Another little laugh. ‘What could they do? They had to pay up.’ He started the engine, his blue eyes locked onto hers. ‘Just remember that about Maggie. Poor Stella was taken in by her, but she was utterly ruthless.’
Stella
At least the coolness with Maggie meant Stella didn’t feel guilty about avoiding her. She would wake as soon as it was light. Pull on a thick jumper and wrap herself in a sleeping bag against the chill. It wasn’t easy to paint like that but she needed to get maximum use of the daylight.
She stayed in the studio all day only coming out to help with the evening meal and sit having a glass of wine for an hour or so. After that, no matter how much Maggie pleaded, she went back to work.
Luckily the studio hut was fitted with electric light, so she was able to keep going as long as she needed. The finished paintings were leaning against the wall in her bedroom and she realized she might soon have to leave some in the living room. If it hadn’t been for her anger with Maggie she would have felt very positive. She was so much more energetic and alive than she had been when she was living with David and Jill.
She had finished work on the Maggie as a mermaid picture and loved the way it had turned out. Although Maggie’s eyes were closed in most of her sketches, she had painted them open. Green, slanted and full of secrets. More cat than fishlike. Her hair a mixture of bright red and orange floating around her face, as if submerged in clear water. The blanket became her body. Green, supple, reclining on a rock instead of the sofa, and looking almost like a snake. She had surrounded the rock with waving seaweed and considered changing the title to Snake in the Grass. She smiled to herself. Even if she didn’t do that it was there for people to see.
She suspected Maggie would hate it.
The silence was broken by the sound of a car engine. She peeped out to see a taxi pulling up. Maggie must have heard it too because she was sitting at the garden table. Shutting the door quickly Stella went back to her painting. It had to be someone for Maggie. She had been talking about a guy she’d met in Milan who she hoped would visit.
Voices from the garden, fading as they moved towards the house, then a shout from Maggie. ‘Just fuck off.’ Things must have gone wrong very quickly if it was the guy from Milan. Another voice now, much quieter. Stella couldn’t make out the words, but it was unmistakably a woman. She opened the door a crack. Then stopped.
It was Pamela Houghton.
Dressed immaculately in a calf-length white skirt and a blue blouse, blonde hair gleaming, she was taking something from a big white handbag. A large envelope.
They made an almost comical contrast: Maggie, schoolgirl-like in her shorts topped by an oversized green sweater, her little feet bare and dirty, and tall graceful Pamela. And Maggie looked scared.
While she was dithering over whether to interrupt – Maggie did seem very frightened – she must have moved.
Pamela turned. For the first time Stella could understand what people meant when they talked about eyes blazing. She had never seen Pamela look like this even when she had come to accuse her of pushing Ben downstairs. It was strange, because she was so involved in her work that her first thought was how well anger suited her and what a great picture her expression would make.
For a moment they all three stood without speaking. Then Pamela said, her voice low and cold, ‘And I hope you’re satisfied as well. The two of you have managed to ruin three people’s lives.’
Stella looked at Maggie, but Maggie’s eyes were fixed on Pamela Houghton, her arms folded, eyes blinking fast.
‘Rubbish,’ she said. ‘You’ve got plenty. This won’t even make a dent in it.’ The words were strong, but one of her legs trembled furiously.
Pamela threw the envelope on the garden table so hard it bounced and fell off onto a chair. When Maggie bent to pick it up Pamela walked over to Stella. Glad to be able to hang on to the hut door she just managed to hold her ground, trying to keep her face expressionless, although she could feel the heat rising.
Pamela came so close that when she spoke flecks of spittle landed on Stella’s cheek. She forced herself to stay still. ‘I don’t know which of you is the more despicable, but on balance I think it’s probably you. What kind of mother abandons her child and then tries to profit from it?’
Stella went to speak, but Pamela was already striding away and through the gate. A door slammed, an engine started up, and the taxi moved away.
Ben
Pamela was out again. Since that bloody girl, the wretched Stella Carr’s daughter, had turned up she’d been disappearing all the time. ‘I’ll only be gone an hour or so. Mark will look after you.’ He was getting tired of hearing that.
He rolled his chair to the window, looking along the street at the all-too-familiar view. He used to love this house, but now he hated it. His prison.
Where had she got to this time?
It was strange how his feelings towards Pamela had changed. The way she’d been since the accident – well how could he not be grateful to her? But she really had no option. Of course he would never give the game away, but she wasn’t to know that. And it would kill her if he did.
It worried him when she was out for any length of time these days. She was too prone to taking things into her own hands. And now that girl, the daughter, was opening up old wounds and the blasted Maggie would soon be rearing her ugly head. He was scared Pamela would do something drastic. Couldn’t forget what happened in Italy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Stella
They stood staring at each other. Maggie with that defiant naughty-girl expression Stella used to think so funny. She tossed her head and said, as if talking to herself, ‘Stupid bitch. Coming all this way only to cave in.’ Then she turned to go back in the house, the envelope full of money clutched in her hand.
‘You went ahead with it? You went ahead with the blackmail? How could you?’ Stella’s voice sounded weak, pathetic.
Twisting fast, eyes wide and angry, Maggie said, ‘Because they owe me, of course. And they owe you.’
‘I told you not to involve me. I want nothing to do with it.’
Thrusting the envelope towards her, and waving it up and down so that some of the notes threatened to slip o
ut, Maggie said, ‘Look at it and don’t tell me you couldn’t use it.’
Stella was still holding on to the studio door. Didn’t dare let go in case she grabbed something and threw it at Maggie. Instead she took a deep breath, trying to keep her voice under control. It was hard.
‘What did you say to them? That we’d reveal something about the forgeries? Or did you say I’d claim Ben was my baby’s father?’
Another head flick as a lock of hair fell across Maggie’s eyes. ‘Both, of course. Double whammy. My god it must really have pissed her off.’ She moved closer, smiling and talking in her friendliest voice. ‘But she actually managed to surprise me today. I never thought she’d turn up here. Had to let her know the address so she could send a cheque, but the last thing I expected was for her to arrive on the doorstep.’
Although she didn’t want this conversation, Stella couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘Why did she come? If she was going to pay up, there wasn’t much point.’
‘Didn’t want to leave a money trail I suppose. Cheques can be traced. This way no one need find out. For all I know she hasn’t even told Ben, because I addressed my letter to her. After all she’s the one with the money.’ A mischievous little smile. ‘Maybe I should try the same thing on him. See if we can get a few quid out of him too.’
‘For God’s sake, Maggie.’ Stella wanted to shake her, to slap that silly smirk off her face.
But Maggie laughed. ‘Lighten up. That was a joke.’
Stella shook her head. Her jaw was so tight. ‘Was it? Was it really?’
‘Yes. And I hate to admit it, but darling Pammy actually scared me a bit, which was obviously another reason for her coming here. She wanted to tell me this was it. Give me dire warnings about what might happen if I tried for more.’
When Stella didn’t respond – she knew her face must show what she was feeling, but couldn’t find any words – Maggie flapped her hand as if to say suit yourself and turned back to the house.
‘Better put this away. It’s too late to go to the bank today, but I’ll do it first thing in the morning.’ A chuckle. ‘Don’t want it getting stolen. You can’t trust anyone nowadays.’ At the front door she turned. ‘It’s £10,000 by the way. That’s £5,000 for you if you want it. All you have to do is ask.’
Eve
The email from Maggie came on the fifth of January, just when she had begun to think she wouldn’t hear from her again.
Dear Eve,
I shall be in Newcastle at the Baltic Gallery on 6th of January. Please let me know what time you would like to meet.
Regards
M.
That was tomorrow and in Newcastle. Eve wasn’t even sure she could make it in time. The email must have been delayed. Unless it was some kind of trick, part of a plan to put her at a disadvantage from the start. That was what Alex and Simon would think.
But she looked back at the first message:
I have a lot to tell you about your mother, most of which I’m sure you won’t have heard before.
Alex was working in the office, and she called up that she was going to do some shopping, taking Ivy with her. In the heated car, the blue sky made it feel almost summery, although the thermometer told her the temperature was hovering around zero. When she’d done the shopping she filled the car with petrol, telling herself she still hadn’t made up her mind, but it would do no harm to have a full tank.
Still sitting on the garage forecourt, she looked at Ivy, who was wide awake, her eyes seeming suddenly very old and wise. ‘You’re right, baby,’ Eve told her. ‘I have to go. For us. For you as well as me.’
She emailed back to say she would meet Maggie outside the Stella Carr exhibition at 4 p.m..
And she wasn’t going to tell anyone or ask for any opinions. This was something she had to do. And to do on her own.
Stella
As she watched Maggie saunter into the house Stella clenched her fists against the rage that boiled up from somewhere deep inside. The heat of it filled her lungs so she was gasping for breath and even the veins in her neck seemed to throb.
Maggie stopped at the door of her bedroom, looking back to smile at her, and that was it. Stella ran in and grabbed her arm, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice. ‘OK, if half the money is for me I’ll take it now.’
She could see from Maggie’s face that she hadn’t disguised her feelings well enough. A sly smile. ‘And if I do give it to you what are you planning to do with it?’
It was no good lying. ‘If you must know, I’m going to find Pamela Houghton, return it and tell her I had nothing to do with your horrible plan. Ben is not my baby’s father and I won’t support you with the forgery scam. I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes straight here after that demanding the rest back.’
Now she’d said it a huge sense of relief came over her. She let go of Maggie’s arm. ‘If you don’t give it to me, I’ll still tell her and suggest she goes to the police.’
Maggie clutched the envelope to her chest with one hand while the other rubbed the place on the top of her arm where Stella’s fingers had left red marks. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. She won’t thank you. And if she did go to the police, do you think she’d leave you out of it?’ When Stella didn’t answer she came closer. ‘Anyway I know you wouldn’t do that to me. I was trying to help you. I’m your friend after all.’
Another of those surges of anger, this one so fierce it scared her. Maggie blinked and stepped back. ‘Are you my friend?’ she asked. ‘Were you ever really my friend? I’ve been asking myself that over and over and I don’t think so. You only ever wanted to use me. What an idiot you must have thought I was. Probably laughed about me with Ben. I can hear you saying it: “I’ve met this common little girl. She’s stupid, but has a talent for copying. I’ll take her in. Get her to trust me.” And you were right. I was so gullible. I believed you liked me.’ Her voice broke and when her eyes filled she wasn’t sure if the tears were of misery, frustration or anger.
Maggie went to touch her. To try to get her onside again. But thought better of it and stepped quickly away and into her bedroom. When Stella tried to follow the door was locked.
It was no good trying to reason with Maggie any longer. She knew she had to find Pamela right away, because she might not be staying in town, and anyway the anger that was fuelling her probably wouldn’t last. So she went into her own bedroom, grabbed her bag and a sweatshirt. As she left the house a gust of wind caught the front door making it slam behind her, and Maggie must have heard because before Stella reached the gate she had caught up with her.
This time it was Maggie who grabbed her arm. ‘Please, Stella, don’t be stupid. You’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk.’
The anger was still there, stronger than ever. She shook her head, ‘Oh no. You’re right about me being stupid, but that was before. As soon as I found out about the two of you and your forgery game I should have told the police. And whatever Pamela says I’ve a good mind to go straight back to England tomorrow and do just that.’
She tried to shake off Maggie’s hand, but Maggie came close, her face flushed, eyes flaring. ‘I don’t believe you.’
Stella smiled. It was such an obvious bluff.
The smile must have infuriated Maggie because her fingers bit deeper into Stella’s flesh. It hurt but she wasn’t going to show it, waiting until Maggie released her to walk away.
Maggie called after her, ‘Don’t do it, Stella. Don’t you dare do it.’
Eve
She had to go. And quickly. Before they woke up. But still Eve stood by her daughter’s cradle, looking down at her in the glow of the night light, longing to stroke the warm little head once more. To run her finger down Ivy’s fat cheek and across her tiny damp mouth. The baby snuffled, and shifted and Eve held her breath. It was midwinter and still dark outside, but morning was on its way. She had to go now or it would be too late.
She crept barefoot past the bedroom where Alex was sleeping, but did
n’t look in. She had left a note on the kitchen table.
Dearest Alex,
I’m going to meet Maggie. I’ll call you later. It’s better if I do this on my own. Then it will be over. I’ll have found out everything I can and be able to put it behind me. Please don’t tell Mum or Dad. It will only upset them. Give Ivy a kiss and tell her I’ll see her soon.
I love you. Eve XX
There was nothing more to do.
In the glimmer of the street lights the pavement had a frosty glitter and she told herself to concentrate. It wouldn’t do to fall.
Once, she thought she heard footsteps behind her and stopped, holding her breath. The footsteps stopped too and she looked back down the street. There was a shape, totally still, under a tree at the end. It could be a figure, but might just be a shadow. And she needed to hurry.
The car windows were thick with white and she used the de-icer and scraper as quietly as she could. The rucksack she’d packed with a few essentials was already in the boot, so all she had to do was to climb in and start the engine. But when it was humming she sat for a moment breathing heavily.
And asking herself if she really wanted to go through with this.
Stella
As she hurried into town, Stella wasn’t sure what she was actually planning to do. Pamela had come to the house in a taxi and could easily have driven straight to the station and away. Even if she was still around she could be anywhere in the town. It wasn’t that small. And if she was here … It was all very well telling Maggie what she planned, but she wondered if she would actually have the nerve to do it. And the idea of flying off to England tomorrow and going to the police herself was ridiculous. How could she persuade them of her own innocence? Still it had been satisfying to frighten Maggie, to feel as if she had the upper hand for once.