Gone!
Julia opened her eyes. She was panting, as though she’d been running. In the first dim light of an early mid-summer dawn, she was surprised to see Nicky curled up beside her. Gradually the objects in the room took shape. The yellow and white curtains, the carved uprights of the four-poster bed, the tall gilt-edged mirror, the oak-panelled walls, the yellow daisies on top of the chest of drawers . . .
Where am I?
Then she remembered.
The hotel.
Paul.
She could still feel his hand on hers but had no idea whether four minutes or four hours had passed. She closed her eyes again. She imagined him lying in his bed about twenty feet away, nothing but a single wall between them.
From somewhere inside her head a voice was saying, Go to him, Julia. Go.
Nicky was fast asleep. The door would be locked. Paul’s room was right next door. She would hear if Nicky called her . . .
Go!
She wriggled off the bed, tiptoed to the bathroom, switched on the light and saw a face she hardly knew: skin flushed and taut, eyes wide open, sparkling.
With lightning speed she splashed herself all over with cold water. She pulled on her clothes then brushed her hair, letting it fall in straight loose tresses down her back and over her shoulders.
With the key in her hand she crept silently across the thick gold carpet to the door. For a moment she stood and listened, then she was in the passage outside his room. She knocked softly, then ducked two steps sideways. There was still time to go back. He had told her she should be with Nicky ─
But his door had opened.
‘I wanted you to come,’ he said, guiding her into the room, ‘but I never thought you would. Nicky?’
Her heart thumped wildly against her ribs. ‘She’s fast asleep. What time is it?’ she asked, feeling ridiculously nervous.
‘Just after three. Is she likely to wake again?’
‘Normally she never wakes up. I’ll hear her if she calls. I don’t think these walls are very thick.’
She walked to the window. The curtains were still open and she breathed in the fresh smell of the night. The moon lit up the farmhouses on the distant hills, a full moon, which according to farmers often heralded an improvement in the weather. It also explained why there was a soft dreamy quality to the air. Was it possible to pick up the broken threads, she wondered.
‘Did you sleep?’ she asked.
‘You kidding? Did you?’
‘It was mostly dreaming,’ she said, and for a moment the smudged images returned.
‘Of me?’ He had come up behind her and was touching her shoulder.
She shook her head. She had never dreamt of him, she who was such a dreamer.
‘Who?’ He turned her round to face him.
She had told him before about her recurring dream. ‘My brother,’ she said, separating him in her mind from Smith, for in her dreams he was always faceless. ‘The usual dream.’ And she was glad Paul had the sense not to ask her any more. Not now, when all she could think of was him.
He moved a step closer. ‘You know what?’
‘What?’
He dropped his arms to his sides. ‘I feel like I’m on my first date. Excited as hell but don’t know how to go about it.’
‘Me too.’
She closed her eyes, then quickly opened them, half-expecting not to see him there at all. He reached for her hand, held it for a moment, then let it drop as though still not certain what to do. Slowly he smiled the wistful half-smile that crinkled up his eyes. The one that at first she hadn’t really noticed, but lately seemed fashioned especially for her.
‘I have for years, you know.’
‘Have what?’
‘Loved you.’
Everything inside her was dissolving, including her neck and her knees and everything else that was holding her up. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Uh huh. Ever since, well, ever since I first saw you.’
‘But you didn’t even like me then.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He grinned, then swept her up and carried her to the bed. He sat her down with her legs dangling over the side, then knelt down on the carpet facing her. ‘You don’t know much about me then, do you?’ he said.
He touched her hand. Something made her pull away.
‘Julia?’
She shook her head.
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘And tell me what it is you’re afraid of.’
No. Don’t answer that, Julia. Say nothing.
‘All right,’ he said, ‘I just want to look at you. Please. May I? Look at you?’
Her mouth was dry. She felt her body stiffen. She nodded.
He frowned but made no move to touch her.
Then slowly, tentatively, she ran her fingers through his hair, stroking the little tufts of silvery grey just above his ears. ‘Mind if I look too?’ she said, her sudden boldness surprising her almost more than it surprised him.
Slowly, carefully, as though he was unwrapping a precious piece of china, he began unbuttoning her blouse, never once taking his eyes off her face.
‘Paul . . . ’
‘Shh.’
He pulled her to her feet. For a long time they just stood, holding each other, hardly moving. He did not attempt to touch her but she could feel his warmth reaching out to her.
She kissed his shoulder. With an anguished groan that came from deep within him, he held her closer.
‘I don’t want this to end,’ he said.
‘Neither do I,’ she whispered as he gently eased her down.
From then on there were no separate movements, no separate words, no separate feelings. Everything that happened was part of one single work of art, strung together like a symphony that encompasses every nuance of sound, rhythm, passion - and every emotion in the human spectrum.
* * *
For a long time afterwards they lay still, their breathing gradually returning to normal. Julia was the first to move.
‘I didn’t know it could be like that,’ she said, without any embarrassment or fear.
He trailed his fingers down her cheek.
‘I want to spend the rest of my life making love to you,’ he said.
She closed her eyes.
‘You’re crying,’ he said.
‘Not crying. Just . . . so happy.’
‘I’m happy too, that it was so good for you.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s not just that.’
‘What then?’
‘I can’t explain. It’s just everything. Being together.’ She didn’t know how to tell him that no man had ever made her want to make love. Had ever made her feel so unafraid, not even Simon. That there was in his lovemaking ─ in their lovemaking ─ a dimension she had never dreamed existed. A dimension that embraced every atom of her being.
‘Why did we wait so long?’ he said.
‘I don’t know.’
‘You’ve always seemed so frightened. Do you want to tell me why.’
Slowly she shook her head.
‘Okay, it doesn’t matter. Another time will do. And I don’t want to chase you, but do you know what the time is now?’
She looked up. Daylight was flooding through the window.
He picked up her clothes, then sat on the bed and watched her getting dressed.
She slipped into her shoes and bent to kiss him. ‘Nicky will be awake soon. I’ll see you at breakfast.’ She walked towards the door.
‘Julia?’
She stopped and turned to face him. He was standing by the bed, staring at her, his mouth open, a look of torment in his eyes.
‘Paul, what is it?’
‘Are we . . . I mean . . . do you . . .’
‘What?’
‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s nothing. You must go to Nicky now.’
- 80 -
Julia watched the sun pour life into the huge yellow flowers on the curtains as she waited for Nicky to wake up. Tiptoeing to the window, she f
elt like standing on top of those stark Pennine hills and shouting out loud:
I’m in love with Paul Moxon.
She had to tell someone. Not Nicky, not yet. But who would understand how after one night of passion she could be so sure she was in love? Or were these overwhelming sensations just masquerading as love? Would David and Jessie approve, she wondered. They were always asking if she’d found someone new. For Nicky’s sake, they said, it would be nice.
Well, nice it certainly would be. But would it work? A criminal defence lawyer and a policeman? Nobody more than the two of them knew the extent of the conflicts that combination could spawn in a mere twenty-four hours, let alone in a lifetime together.
A lifetime. Is that what I want?
And anyway, who said anything about a permanent relationship? All that sentimental talk about wanting to spend the rest of his life making love to me was just ─
‘Mummy. Come and look at this.’
Running to the bed she flung her arms around Nicky: she couldn’t help herself. ‘Look at what, darling?’
Nicky’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to hug you. And here you are. Hugging me.’
‘You little monkey. I would have come without that little trick.’
They laughed and Julia pulled her out of bed and danced with her around the room.
‘Wendy hugs me. You never hug me, Mummy. Why?’
‘I’m hugging you now,’ she said, squeezing Nicky tight. ‘Come on. Let’s get in the shower, then we’ll go and have breakfast with Paul.’
‘Do you think he’ll play hide-and-seek with me?’
- 81 -
It’s strange being so close to Paul, Julia thought. Yet not alone with him. He seems to have a permanent smile on his face, more in his eyes than on his lips, which deepens every time he looks at me. I suspect that I have a similar look on my face. In fact we probably look like two smiling Cheshire cats that have just polished off a bowl of cream.
At the next table a man was reading a Sunday tabloid. Julia heard the paper crackle as he turned the pages over and when she looked again she found herself staring at a large colour photograph of Smith. SMITH DOES VANISHING TRICK was the headline.
She followed Paul’s gaze. He had seen it too.
She scraped some butter onto her toast. The photograph emphasised the blond beard and the blue convex eyes. Only Julia knew how dramatically his appearance had been transformed, revealing a far sharper jaw line than the beard suggested. The police must surely have guessed that he might shave his beard. She looked away. Oh how I long to be released from the tyranny of secrets, she told herself. It’s ridiculous to put myself through this agony. Smith must have had a blood test when he was arrested. I could easily have one now. A DNA test would prove almost beyond doubt whether we are twins or not. Paul, I imagine myself saying, won’t you be a darling and arrange for me to have a DNA test. And if you don’t mind, could you please ask Forensics to compare it with Smith’s DNA . . .
Impossible.
She clenched her jaw until it felt as though her teeth would crack, but this was not enough to stop the barrage of thoughts invading her mind. The truth of it is that I’m still afraid to know. The proof would make it irreversible. Never again could I hide behind my doubt. Would I be able to face Paul again? Look him in the eye and say I loved him?
‘Come, Princess,’ Paul said to Nicky when she’d finished her last mouthful of scrambled egg. ‘Let’s all go for a walk.’
Paul led them down a shady path, dappled with sunlight filtering through the trees. All three holding hands, with Nicky in the middle, made Julia feel she was in another dream, a dream she didn’t want to end. They stopped and listened to a blackbird, marvelling with heads tilted upwards at the sweetness of its aria. Just then Paul’s mobile phone rang, shattering the magic.
He walked a few paces away. Several seconds later he turned to face Julia and Nicky.
‘I’m sorry, job calls, I’m afraid. We’ll have to leave.’
It took only minutes to pack.
Along the way home Julia gazed longingly at the grandeur of the hills. One day we’ll come back, she thought, as they sped past the Cat and Fiddle.
‘Next time we have a spare hour or two we could drive down Goyt Valley,’ Paul said, as though sensing Julia’s thoughts. ‘All this beauty on our doorstep and we never take the time to see it.’
At Hillside House he took Julia’s bag inside. ‘I’m sorry it ended so abruptly,’ he said. He gave them both a swift kiss and Julia a lingering look. ‘We must do it again some time,’ he said.
Julia smiled, although she was closer to tears.
He opened the car door. ‘What’ll you do now? It’s a bit of a let down for you both.’
‘Maybe drive to Southport,’ Julia said, with sudden inspiration. ‘It’s ages since we’ve seen David and Jessie.’
‘I’ll get someone to accompany you,’ he whispered, glancing at the house where Bennett’s men were stationed. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you won’t see them. But they’ll see you.’
‘Okay,’ she said, knowing that in this one instance there was no point in arguing.
‘Ring me when you get home. Or if you need me ─ for anything.’
‘I will,’ she said. She grasped Nicky’s hand and waved as he drove off.
- 82 -
Sam Smith had four big things on his mind.
Number one was controlling the pain.
Number two was how to keep hiding the fucking Fiesta. He couldn’t leave it on the road. Someone was bound to report what would look like an abandoned car. There was no way of getting it to the derelict barn, so the churchyard at the cross roads it would have to be. A chance he’d have to take.
With one hand he gripped his stomach. With the other he took the photographs from his trouser pocket. They were getting creased from looking at them so often. Pity he’d had to dump the silver frames. He looked at the small one first, then the large one. If he did that quickly they seemed to come alive. She was so beautiful. If he looked at them for long enough it helped to keep the pain away. They took his mind on a long backward journey . . .
He’d been lucky to even find the barn. The map Frank had scribbled on a Manchester Evening News shortly before the escape had long since been lost. But no fucking problem. He’d just closed his eyes and there it was in front of him, plain as daylight, every road, every sign, every tree and every landmark. As soon as he’d coaxed the fucking car to the top of the hill and looked down over the moors, he’d known that he was home. Sometimes his photographic memory was a blessing.
This old barn was only marginally better than the burnt-out building at Castlefield. He had to huddle in a corner to escape the blasts of wind that rushed in through the cracks. When it rained he got pissed on from hundreds of tiny leaks, and the mod cons were non-existent. But he could see for miles around. Spot anyone looking for him.
His third problem was money. There wasn’t much petrol left in the Fiesta, and up here in the middle of nowhere there was no chance to steal another car. The nearest phone was at the Cat and Fiddle, two or three miles away. So he had to leave enough money for petrol and the second phone call because without that the whole plan would fall to pieces.
Number four, and the one he’d spent the whole weekend working on, was how best to play his masterstroke.
- 83 -
David and Jessie’s retirement flat overlooked the sea on one side, with a view of Royal Birkdale on the other. It had seemed ideal when they first moved in, though this time Julia sensed that something was amiss.
After lunch, while Jessie and Nicky were making tea, she asked David if everything was all right.
‘If only you and Nicky would visit us more often.’ He pressed his fingers into the small of his back. ‘I don’t drive any more, and I can’t play golf because of this crippling sciatica.’
‘You could walk gently on the beach,’ Julia suggested, just as Jessie and N
icky breezed in with the tray.
Nicky’s eyes lit up. ‘David, will you walk with me on the beach? Please. We could look for shells.’
David’s face creased into a smile. ‘I’ll be very slow, sweetheart, but yes, that would be grand. Let’s have our tea and then we’ll go.’
Later, when they were alone, Jessie said: ‘You look tired, Julia. You’ve been overworking again.’
‘No more than usual,’ she said, her hard-to-believe almost sleepless night still vivid in her mind.
‘Then something else is wrong. I can see it in your eyes. Is that why you’ve come?’
‘Not wrong. But something’s happened and I’m not sure what to do about it.’
‘You’ve fallen in love.’
Julia grinned and slowly nodded.
‘Oh Julia, dear. Tell me all about it.’
‘Not much to tell, really. It’s only just struck me that he’s rather special.’
‘Who is he? When can we meet him?’
‘Not so fast, Jessie. Nothing’s been discussed.’ She stood up and walked to the window. The tide was low and she could see David and Nicky walking hand in hand in the distance. ‘You see,’ she said. ‘He’s a policeman.’
Jessie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Oh.’
‘A detective superintendent. You’ll have seen him on the telly this week.’
‘In connection with that murderer who escaped?’
‘Yes.’
‘Very distinguished looking. Handsome. Dark.’ Jessie smiled, pressing her palms together. ‘That him?’
‘Yes.’
‘He looks wonderful.’
‘Oh, he’s that all right.’ Julia took a deep breath. Having to explain it to Jessie brought the reality home to her. ‘But we sit on different sides of the legal fence, Jessie. It would be . . . impossible.’
‘I didn’t think that word existed in your vocabulary, my dear.’
‘We’re too fundamentally different in our moral outlook.’
Jessie gave her adopted daughter a long steady look. ‘What about love, Julia? The chemistry between two people is a powerful thing.’
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