‘Elle’s gone home.’
He nodded, giving Loz plenty of opportunity to lead the conversation, pretty sure he knew where she’d take it.
Loz’s eyes travelled over his parents. ‘Elle was very upset tonight when she came here to pack.’
Fiona looked surprised. ‘Here to pack?’
Loz’s chin jutted. ‘She asked if she could move in here for a bit so that you could be accommodated on the Shady Lady. I was pleased to make things easier for you but she’s such a lovely girl I wouldn’t have hesitated, anyway.’ She fixed Fiona with a baleful eye. ‘Poor kid needs someone on her side.’
No one could fail to notice the slight emphasis on someone.
‘She’s got us, of course,’ Davie put in.
Lucas yawned, leaving Loz to do her stuff with Davie backing her up. Fiona and Geoffrey didn’t look comfortable but that was OK. Food for thought wasn’t always particularly palatable.
Quietly, he excused himself on the pretext of searching out a bathroom. With a silent apology to his hosts he opened doors until he found what he wanted – a cabin with its cupboard ajar and some of Elle’s clothes hanging inside. He closed his eyes in relief, absorbing the fact that she hadn’t cleared all her stuff.
She’d be coming back.
An hour later, picking their way between the line of gently moving boats on one side and the dark gardens on the other, Lucas found himself yawning so hugely that his jaw clicked. He was almost hallucinating about dropping into the narrow guest bed.
His parents were quiet as he pushed the plank out onto the Shady Lady’s bathing platform for them.
Fiona halted in the saloon. ‘I’m not stupid, Lucas,’ she said, drily.
Lucas cocked a brow.
‘We have noted that this evening you’ve been on a mission to expose us to the saintliness of Elle.’
Aggravation made his voice sharp. ‘Didn’t you listen to what she said? Elle’s no saint: she’s a normal human being. But a pretty good one, one who deserves a bit of trust, maybe?’ And, finally, he shut himself away in the guest cabin, dragged off his clothes and fell into bed.
He’d hardly closed his eyes when a text message came through. His heart flipped at the sight of Elle’s name. Did your mother go to the police about Ricky’s blackmail attempt?
He looked at his watch. She could still be at the airport, about to get on a late flight. Pulling on his boxers, he forced his tired body to the foot of the galley steps so he could see his parents seated in the saloon. He repeated Elle’s question.
Fiona looked wary. ‘I had to, darling. My position— It would have been odd not to report a crime. I made a statement.’
‘Did they get him?’
Fiona shook her head.
Lucas retired back to the guest cabin. He deliberated over calling Elle, wanting badly to hear her voice. But she’d chosen to text so he texted the details Fiona had given him in return.
In a minute she returned OK, thx.
Despite his fatigue, he lay awake for a long time, staring into the darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Elle’s first three days back in England were filled with meetings and arrangements, some awkward, some difficult and some downright unpleasant.
Healthcare workers from the hospital had to be met, staff from The Briars, staff from two different institutions that might be suitable for Joanna, other authority figures concerned with loose ends she knew had to be tied up. Explanations, consultations, instructions, assessing what would and wouldn’t work.
She met her dad and Tania at the pub beside the motel where she’d booked a room. Tania, Elle was sure, had made the long haul from Wales only to make certain that Elle understood Will didn’t have money to splash around contributing to the care of ex-wives.
Elle offered only brusque reassurance. ‘I didn’t expect anything of Dad so I’m not disappointed that it’s all down to me.’
Will looked pained. ‘That’s not worthy of you, young lady.’
Elle picked up her wine glass, determined not to accept her father’s reproof like a child. ‘So who else is it down to?’
Will didn’t come up with anyone, so Elle went on doggedly with her round of meetings until she thought her head would explode from information overload and hard choices. But at least it stopped her thinking about Lucas. Much.
The late afternoon of the second day, after a particularly onerous and shitty meeting, she went into McDonald’s and logged on to the Wi-Fi.
Then she did something she didn’t think she’d ever do.
She opened a new Facebook account and filled out the profile with her background details. Bettsbrough Comprehensive School; Keele University; University of Manchester.
She activated the profile and wrote a couple of status updates about being back in Northampton; then sent out a dozen friend requests to people she remembered were surgically attached to their Facebook pages so could probably be relied upon to react promptly.
Into the search window she typed: Ricky Manion. Three came up. Ricky James Manion, Ricky DJ Manion and Ricky Manion Smith. Ricky DJ Manion’s profile picture was a musical note rather than a photo of himself, and unless the Ricky she needed had started adopting names and changing his appearance, neither of the other Rickys was the correct one.
She drank a cup of coffee and ate a chocolate brownie, slowly, and by the time she’d finished five people had friended her back, people she’d worked with who sent Hey, where have you been – got to meet up! messages.
She returned suitably brief and non-committal replies. Satisfied that she now had a Facebook presence, however superficial, she clicked on Ricky DJ Manion and, hoping that his settings allowed people other than Facebook friends to make contact, sent him a private message.
I need to speak to you. Call me. She added her mobile phone number.
If she had found the right Ricky Manion, he wouldn’t be able to resist finding out why Elle Kirsty Jamieson would get in touch.
It was an uncomfortable feeling, doing everything she’d so carefully avoided up to now: making herself visible and discoverable. Drearily, she reminded herself that it didn’t matter any more. All her dirtiest beans lay spilled in the muck.
On the morning of her fourth day back in England, she visited her mother, as she had done each day. Joanna had been moved into a geriatric ward and was in a large orange vinyl armchair, her head resting on one of the chair’s wings, her fingers twisting and one corner of her mouth dragged down.
‘Hello, Mum.’ Elle stooped tentatively to hug her mother’s shoulders; lost muscle tone had made them narrow, loose under Elle’s hands. ‘How are you?’
Joanna gazed back at Elle with watery blue eyes and her mouth worked as if groping for words that hovered just out of reach. Her hair was held out of her eyes with a hair slide. It was a girlish style Joanna would never have worn when she was well and Elle realised that she probably hadn’t thought to book her mother haircuts while she was away. She put it on her mental ‘to do’ list.
To fill the silence, and because Joanna was gazing at her, Elle launched into an account of all she’d been doing since leaving the ward the day before. Encouraged by Joanna’s apparent attention and by what might have been attempts to smile, she moved on to what the healthcare worker had said and what conclusions Elle had drawn from her conferences at The Briars and the alternative care homes.
‘I think it’ll be best for you to go back to The Briars,’ she ended. ‘You know the staff and they’re able to give you the care you need. It means being in a new room and, hopefully, you’ll keep improving.’
Elle waited while her mother tried to say something. When the attempt ended only in a sigh, she added, ‘I’ve sorted out the money side of things.’ Elle hated to think what would happen when the money from Joanna’s share of the
family home was gone. Elle’s contribution would no longer be enough. She’d have to return to the UK and secure a proper job again. She could see her new life circling the drain.
Shoving that unwelcome thought aside, she pasted on her brightest smile. ‘So there’s nothing for you to worry about, Mum. It might even be as soon as tomorrow that you’re back at The Briars.’
Joanna’s mouth worked again, and she frowned with the effort of transferring her thoughts to her lips. Slowly, indistinctly, the words came out.
‘Do I know you?’
Elle recoiled. But, as she stared at the shell that had once been her mother, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Unknown number. She dashed out of the ward and into the Ladies’ to answer the call, her voice choked with tears. ‘Yes?’
A pause, then, ‘Why did you want me to call you?’
The sound of Ricky’s voice, after four years, added a thread of panic to Elle’s jangling emotions. ‘I can’t talk now, but it’s important. Are you in Northampton?’
‘What if I am?’
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. ‘Can you meet me?’
‘Why should I?’
‘I wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t a good reason. But I can’t talk here – I don’t want passers-by to hear.’ And then, lowering her voice urgently, ‘Ring me back if you can meet me. Up to you, but someone came to see me and gave me a whole load of information about you, and it affects us both—’
‘All right. I’ll meet you this afternoon, Midsummer Meadow, down by the river.’
She let out a snort. ‘No thanks. I remember the kind of people you hang out with. It has to be more public than that.’
He sniggered. He hadn’t changed his modus operandi of using scorn and derision to make her feel in the wrong. ‘The market square public enough for you?’
‘Near the entrance to The Grosvenor Centre, three o’clock,’ she agreed, thickly, and ended the call. Wiping her eyes, she blew her nose and squared her shoulders.
There were still arrangements to make and bureaucracy to clear and she made time for yet another call to the authorities before feeling strong enough to return to the ward. She still needed to find out who to talk to about discharging her mother and whether she’d need an ambulance or if a taxi would be OK.
In her heart she knew that meeting Ricky was the right thing to do. She had to confront her past before she could move on. But the prospect still made her stomach lurch and she’d feel better if she kept as busy as possible.
Elle leaned on the ironstone wall beside the Market Square entrance to Northampton’s flagship shopping centre, listening to the chatter of the shoppers as they passed. Jumpy, she somehow felt both cornered and exposed.
She watched what was going on around the market stalls and half-expected to catch sight of her ex-husband fencing dodgy gear to unsuspecting punters under one of the red-striped awnings.
But Ricky, when he sauntered up ten minutes late, came through the doors of the shopping centre.
‘What’s up then?’ He took out a Marlboro packet and lit a cigarette.
Elle jammed her hands in the pockets of her jeans, determined not to let Ricky see if her hands shook. Resisting the impulse to clear her throat, she took a deep breath, not wanting to stutter over a single word. ‘I hear you tried to blackmail my ex-boyfriend’s mother.’
Ricky shrugged as if he had no idea what she was talking about, gazing past her at the market. Lines had settled beneath his eyes, but he looked prosperous.
She let injury resonate in her voice. ‘You know that your nasty threats put paid to my relationship with Lucas. But I didn’t think you’d try and get money out of his family once I’d left town.’
Ricky glanced at her. She caught a glint of something, as if he were amused or pleased at being the cause of her dismay. ‘You were always too much of a cow to play fair with me,’ he commented, obliquely.
‘You don’t know what fair is!’ she snapped. ‘And that kind of emotional abuse doesn’t work with me now. I’m not a silly little girl you can bully any more.’ Then she let it all pour out, her disgust of a man who would expect to live off her while he played at being a crook, then run away before the police turned up. How her relationship with her parents had been affected, and how, just when she thought that she’d got it together again with Lucas, her ex-mother-in-law-to-be had appeared ‘and tells me that you’re still sending your shit my way!’
Ricky’s expression grew steadily more impatient. ‘Why are you bothering to lay all this stuff on me? You don’t think I give a fuck, do you?’
‘Not really.’ She sighed, letting her shoulders droop. ‘I just thought you’d like the satisfaction of knowing.’ Then she straightened her spine and forced herself to keep speaking, to say the words she knew would antagonise. ‘Because that satisfaction’s all you’re going to get. You have nothing left to gain because I have nothing left to lose. You’ve pulled your masterstroke of trying to blackmail Mrs Rose and it hasn’t worked. You’re even a failure as a small-time crook, Ricky.’
Slowly, Ricky drew himself up, stepping into her space and right in her face, the all-too-familiar strategy to intimidate and quell. Elle was swept by sickening memories. Bellows of rage. Anger hurled like rocks. Though it was difficult not to cringe from his menacing bulk and the smoke from his cigarette, which burned her eyes and throat, she remained perfectly still by the wall, heart beating hard against her ribs.
With relief, out of the corner of her eye she spotted dark shapes rounding the nearest stalls and heading purposefully in their direction.
She forced herself to ignore Ricky taking control of her space, her air, to look up into his face. ‘I’m drawing a line under you. There’s some really unpleasant stuff still to come but I’m free of you and it feels pretty good.’
Ricky sneered like a goblin, the sourness of cigarette smoke on his breath. ‘What are you going on about, you stupid tart? What unpleasant stuff?’
Elle didn’t waver. ‘Giving evidence against you. I’ve already made a statement.’
And as Ricky opened his mouth again, he halted, eyes swivelling to what Elle had spotted seconds before. Two uniformed police officers striding his way. ‘Shit!’ He tried to dart towards the glass doors to the mall but two more police officers emerged from inside, neatly blocking his escape.
Spinning on his heel, Ricky made a lunge for the narrowing gap between the uniforms but the police officers, all burly men, put on a burst of speed and were on him. ‘Easy mate. Don’t do anything stupid.’
Ricky, bravado and cockiness overwritten by blank shock, stared at Elle as his arms were pulled deftly behind his back. ‘You fucking bitch, you ratted me out.’
Elle laughed, taking a deep breath of fresh air. ‘And I enjoyed every minute. The police were glad of my help because it turned out they had quite a few reasons to want to pick you up. See you in court, Ricky. I’ll be the one in the witness box.’
Her heart was still beating hard. But now it was with exhilaration.
Elle had been in England for only ten days but it seemed longer. Lucas had called her and she’d been polite but in a hurry. When he’d texted her: Found hotel for Mum and Dad for a few days. Costing them! But it means they’re no longer on the Shady Lady xxx she’d returned a polite but neutral: OK. It pained him that she didn’t sound bothered. At least Charlie’s out of hospital. Kayleigh’s taking him home provoked a Good! :-)
A voice came from the quayside. ‘Ahoy, Shady Lady!’
Lucas went out onto the bathing platform. He hadn’t been back from work long and his shower-damp hair blew into his eyes. He had to flick it back to see Loz on the quayside. His insides hitched in case she brought him news of Elle. ‘Come aboard.’ He gave her his hand to cross the gangplank.
Loz beamed, settling herself on the cockpit seat in the
sun. ‘I’ve come to invite you and your parents to a drinks party this evening.’
He took the seat beside her. ‘Thank you. What’s the occasion?’
Loz smiled. ‘Just one of our regular get-togethers. But I thought you might like to come and celebrate Elle being back.’
He bounced to his feet. ‘Back? Where?’
Looking suddenly apprehensive, Loz half-pointed in the direction of Seadancer. ‘She’s—’
Lucas turned and with a run and a jump was on the shore. Too angry for good manners, he abandoned Loz alone on the Shady Lady and stormed along the quayside and up the gangplank onto Seadancer.
He found Elle in her cabin, unpacking her suitcase into the cupboard.
Fury burned so hot inside Lucas’s skull that he thought flames would shoot out of his eyeballs. ‘So when were you going to tell me you were back?’
Elle didn’t pause in her task of sliding folded T-shirts into a wide drawer under the bed. ‘I was going to come along to the Shady Lady soon.’
‘But not to live? And that’s not a detail you thought you’d share with me?’ He reached out and flipped shut the lid of her suitcase, maddened beyond reason at her refusal to pay him attention.
Deliberately, Elle opened the suitcase again. Then she squared right up to him, blue eyes sparking. Her voice was dangerously soft. ‘I appreciate that you’re angry. Being angry is one of the things you do. But I told you to give me space. It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t something I expected to be ignored. I told you.’
Lucas halted. His anger drained away in the face of her greater fury. It was as if every slight she’d ever suffered, every frustration or injustice, was concentrated in the set of her beautiful mouth as she stared him down, refusing to accept his moment of disrespect.
‘OK,’ he said. And turned and walked away.
The Wedding Proposal Page 27