by Julie Corbin
‘Doesn’t look like we have any,’ I say.
He continues to look. Once upon a time I had a thing for ice cubes. But that was when I was young and lived in an attic bedroom. The one small skylight window didn’t open up very far and the room would heat up like an oven.
‘Oh look!’ Triumphant, he holds up the tray. ‘They’re shaped like elephants, but that won’t matter.’ He twists the tray and pops them out into a glass.
‘Do we have to?’
‘What’s happened to your sense of fun?’
I pull the dressing gown around me. ‘I just think it might be too cold.’
‘We can generate some heat.’
My smile feels stiff. I’m not sure I can keep this up. I’m now going to have to pretend to enjoy elaborate foreplay when I just want to cut to the chase and get the information. He sees my face and thinks my look has more to do with trepidation than ulterior motives. He laughs.
‘Come on.’ He takes my hand and I run to keep up with him as he climbs the stairs two at a time. ‘You’re nineteen, remember.’ He closes the bedroom door behind us, puts a chair against it – he’s not completely forgetting about children, then – and undresses with the speed of a teenager. He sits on the bed and pulls me to him. ‘Am I allowed unwrap you now?’
I manage a flirty smile and let the dressing gown and the silk robe fall behind me onto the carpet. ‘Only if you take your time.’
He undoes the rest of the basque clips one by one, kissing his way down my breasts and then my belly as he goes. I shiver but not in a good way. This isn’t me. I’m not someone who pretends or manipulates. I’ve never pretended to want him. I’ve never had to. I’ve never even faked an orgasm. But if I’m going to do it, I might as well attempt to enjoy it, so I shut my eyes and try to let go to the feeling rising inside me like a geyser. He lays me back on the bed. His hands and mouth are everywhere, hard and soft at the right time in the right places, but still it does nothing to bring me into the moment.
‘Naked bodies are the best, aren’t they?’ he says.
‘For a barrister you can be remarkably hedonistic.’
‘You shouldn’t judge us barristers quite so harshly.’ He takes an ice cube and drops it between my breasts. It slides its way down my stomach. He catches it with his tongue. ‘Anyway, I am first and foremost a man.’
‘You don’t say.’
‘Feel like you’re nineteen yet?’
‘Sex wasn’t this good at nineteen.’ I pull him in for a kiss. ‘There’s something to be said for being grown-up.’
Fortunately, he’s in the mood for doing all the work. Nothing is expected of me except that I moan in the right places and move my hips at the right times. When at last he’s lying beside me sated, I give him a few minutes to enjoy the feeling as I work out exactly how to approach this. Julian is intelligent and rational. He believes passionately in equality and fair treatment. He believes in empowering people and he believes in justice.
‘Julian, we’ve never had any trouble being straight with one another, have we?’
He pretends to frown. ‘This isn’t going to get serious, is it?’
‘I don’t mean it to. It’s just that we’re coming up against the biggest problem we’ve ever faced and I need to know that we’re being honest with each other.’
‘I haven’t lied to you.’
‘I know.’ I stroke his chest. ‘It’s more what you haven’t said.’
He takes a moment to consider. ‘You’re not still thinking I might be having a scene with Megan?’
‘No.’ I kiss the soft spot behind his ear. ‘But I wonder if she’s the reason you didn’t tell me about the emails before now.’
‘She’s not. The decision was entirely mine. I didn’t ask for her opinion, but if I had, I expect she would have told me to tell you.’
‘OK.’ I believe him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yes.’ I keep my tone light. ‘Will you please tell me what the witness is called and where he is?’
He gives me a questioning look.
‘As a couple we’re close, aren’t we?’
‘Claire—’
‘Aren’t we?’
‘Yes.’
‘We always said we would share everything.’
‘I know, but this is a professional decision.’
‘It’s not, Julian. It’s personal.’
‘Claire—’
‘I won’t use the information. I won’t.’ I find I can look him straight in the eye and lie. ‘But I’ll have it if I need it. It’s like giving me a life raft so that if the sea is choppy, I can bail our daughter out.’
‘I can’t give you the name.’
‘Because you think I’ll bail out before you?’ He goes to answer me, but I think of something else and briefly put my fingers over his mouth. ‘Do you think I’m a good mother?’
‘I think you’re an excellent mother. Our children couldn’t do any better.’
‘Do you trust me to know what’s best for them. For Bea?’
‘Claire—’
‘I know how special this case is to you.’ I hold his face squarely in my hands so that he’s forced to maintain eye contact. ‘I do, Jules. I’ve worked in that world. I remember the buzz, the adrenaline rush of being part of a team taking a case as important as this to trial. I can only imagine what it’s like for you being the lead counsel. I know you’ve had to resign, but nevertheless the credit will be yours. Not only have you been working on it for months but you have had an interest in nailing Georgiev for fifteen years. This case is a career-maker and on a personal level incredibly satisfying for you when you win. Because you will win.’
‘It’s also important to those people who’ve been hurt by Georgiev.’
‘I understand that. And I understand that you can’t be the one to communicate with the blackmailer, but I can.’
He shakes his head.
‘I’m not saying I’d do it now. But if for some reason we are separated or there is an emergency of some sort, I may be the only one who can help Bea. Our daughter, Julian. Our child. We made her. We made her on a night just like this one. You have information that could help me care for Bea – save her life even. You need to trust me.’
I’m getting through to him. I see the first shadow of doubt flicker across his eyes.
‘Do you love me, Julian?’
‘Yes, I love you. You’re my wife. I love you more than I can say. You are my soul mate, my best friend and my lover all rolled up in one package.’ He strokes the small of my back. ‘One very lovely package.’
At another time such a declaration would have warmed my heart, but now I see it as the green light to take me right where I want to be.
‘Then prove it. Please.’ I bring my face close to his and whisper, ‘Prove that you love me. Tell me who the witness is and where he’s being kept.’
16
Seconds pass and in those seconds I watch tears form in his eyes. His lips are trembling. He looks more upset and conflicted than I have ever seen him and I draw back. Anxiety climbs into my throat and sits there, heavy as stone.
‘What?’ I say.
He gives a monumental sigh, not from boredom but from the weight of what he’s about to say. ‘I can’t tell you, Claire,’ he says quietly.
‘You can’t, or you won’t?’
‘I can’t.’ He looks regretful. ‘I asked for the witness to be moved and that I shouldn’t be told where. I emailed that to the blackmailer this morning.’
A noise comes out of my throat. I feel like I’m choking.
Julian puts a steadying hand on my shoulder. ‘I had to, Claire.’
I move away from him.
‘It’s the best way to protect Bea.’
I am filled with complete and utter disbelief. All I can do is stare at him.
‘If we have nothing she wants, then she has no reason to come after Bea.’
I move to the edge of the bed and stand up.
My legs are jelly and I fall over, catching my head on the edge of the bedside table. A searing pain bites into my right temple and I let out an involuntary cry. Julian helps me up, sitting me back down on the bed. I touch the side of my head and feel the beginnings of a bump. The glass with the remaining ice cubes is on the other side of the bed. Julian gets it and gently presses the cold surface against my temple. I take it from him and hold it there myself. At first it makes the burning pain more acute than the injury itself and then there’s an increasing numbness, spreading cold beneath my skin, around my eye and down on to my cheek.
‘It was the best solution,’ he says.
We’re both still naked. He’s squatting in front of me, looking up into my face. I don’t meet his eyes.
‘You do see that, don’t you?’
The shock of his revelation is beginning to dissipate. Like dense, rolling mist it evaporates and leaves behind a clear view and with that there is heat.
I breathe in and feel anger mix with the air that fills my lungs. ‘No, I don’t see that.’
‘I no long—’
I cut in, ‘You still know his name.’
‘The name alone isn’t enough. It’s more important to know where he is.’
‘And she’s going to believe that you don’t?’ I snap back. ‘You’re the lead counsel. He’s your star witness.’
‘I was the lead counsel.’ He purses his lips. ‘Claire, we had to do something.’
‘We? We?’ My hand starts to shake. I press the glass more firmly against my temple. ‘This decision has nothing to do with me.’
‘I know.’ He nods. ‘And I’m sorry you couldn’t be included in the discussion.’
‘What discussion?’
‘I discussed it with Mac and with the profilers and with the criminal psycho—’
He stops talking when I hurl the glass at the wall. Water, ice and shards of broken glass fan out from the point of impact. ‘Damn you, Julian!’ I shout. ‘If anything were to happen, it was the only bargaining chip we had.’
He looks at the wall and then back at me. ‘Taking this step means that nothing will happen. That is the point.’ He’s talking slowly. He wants me to calm myself, but my pulse is racing and my heart is in my mouth. ‘She’s not going to attempt to take Bea unless there’s a guarantee she’ll get what she wants.’
‘You think she’ll just back off?’
‘It’s a calculated risk, but yes, we do.’
‘Crossing the road is a risk. Swimming in the sea is a risk. But this? This is madness! It’s asking for trouble.’ I stand up and lift my nightdress off the low stool at the end of the bed. ‘What has happened to you? Have you forgotten that we make decisions concerning our children together. Together, Julian.’
‘I hoped that you would see the sense in this.’
‘Sense? This is ludicrous! You think she’s just going to shrug her shoulders and forget about it?’ I stare him down. ‘What if it makes her mad as hell? What then?’
‘She won’t jeopardise her ultimate goal.’
‘So why didn’t you do this a week ago? Why leave it until this morning?’
‘Because we hoped we would either find her or that she would change tack when I resigned. You know that.’
‘Damn you, Julian!’ I bang my hand against the wall. ‘Damn you for excluding me and damn you for treating this like some sort of game.’
‘I am not treating this like a game.’ He grabs my arm and swings me round to look at him. ‘I love our daughter just as much as you do. This is exactly the sort of emotional, knee-jerk reaction that is unhelpful.’
‘You think our daughter being kidnapped isn’t something to get emotional about?’
‘Claire, you of all people should understand that it’s for this sort of intimidation that Georgiev is being brought to justice in the first place. The law can’t buckle and fold in the face of threats, no matter how extreme. You have to see that.’
‘I’ll tell you what I see. I see that you want to do this on your own. You don’t want to hear what I think and you’re even less interested in what I feel.’
‘That’s not—’
‘There’s a mother in Italy who’s living with the memory of a murdered son. I will not be her.’ I move close to his face. ‘I am not interested in rhetoric. I am not interested in what’s right. I want our daughter safe, and if you have it in your power to keep her safe and you don’t exercise that power, then I will not live with you any more.’ I hold his eyes. ‘I could not live with you.’
He doesn’t have an answer to that and in his eyes there is an acute sadness. It doesn’t make me retract my threat and it doesn’t make me feel sympathy for him. I want to hurt him like he is hurting me. I want him to know what it feels like to be pushed away. I want him to see that he’s putting his work before his family. I’m just about to reiterate this when our bedroom door is pushed. It moves only a couple of inches before it hits the back of the chair. I pull the nightdress on over my head and take the chair away from the door. The light in the hallway is on, the dimmer switch turned down low, just like it is in our bedroom. Bea is there. Her eyes are barely open. She doesn’t look to the right or the left, doesn’t see Julian and me watching her. She moves automatically towards the bed. She is holding one of Bertie’s legs, the rest of him trailing on the carpet behind her.
She whispers loudly, ‘I not wake Daddy. I just climb in velly velly quiet-y.’ In seconds she is under the covers, her small head hardly denting the pillow.
The air is crackling with an overt significance. This little girl. She is what we’re battling over. She is the one who is prized by both sides and yet she is completely oblivious to the danger that’s swirling round her, drawing ever closer.
I point towards the bed. ‘Bea trusts us to do what’s best for her.’ I pause. ‘Can you honestly tell me that’s what you’re doing?’ I wait a couple of seconds, watching him wrestle with an answer.
When none is forthcoming, I go downstairs and into the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of wine, my hands shaking so much that some spills on to the work surface. I sit down at the table and drink the wine down quickly as if it’s medicine. I hadn’t expected this. At the back of my mind there was always the safety button, the if-push-came-to-shove option. Julian had the information the blackmailer wanted. We could give it to her and bugger the consequences. Our daughter would be safe. But now Julian has relinquished that power and fear is curling inside me, turning round in the centre of my chest like a corkscrew. I am the first to admit that I can’t detach myself in the same way that Julian can. My daughter is four. She is hardly more than a baby and she is in danger. I believe that British law is more balanced, fairer and more sophisticated than any other country in the world. I believe in its power to bring justice and maintain order. But British justice comes second to my child’s safety, and I’m both horrified and angry by Julian’s decision.
Within five minutes he follows me into the kitchen. He’s wearing pyjamas now, his expression cloudy with tension. He takes a dustpan and brush out of the cupboard. He’s about to leave the room when he turns back and says, ‘Was that what the sex was for, Claire? So you could find out about the witness?’
I flick my eyes towards his. ‘Yes.’
Julian is rarely lost for words. ‘The . . .’ He clears his throat. ‘Claire, I . . .’ He thinks. ‘While I . . .’ He leans his back against the wall and sighs. Then he walks away.
I drink some more wine and remember that Mac was also involved in this decision. It doesn’t surprise me. I know the way the police operate. They’re not going to decide strategy with me, the child’s mother. This is a matter of what’s lawful. It’s not about emotions. Parents can sacrifice the greater good for their child’s safety, but the system can’t do that. It has to stand firm. I accept that. What I can’t accept is that Julian is more concerned with doing what’s right on a grand scale than he is with doing what’s right for his family. I can’t reconcile that. I would never ha
ve predicted this reaction. Never.
Two glasses of wine later and I’m coming to terms with what I have to do next. Mac. He knows the witness’s name and he’ll also know where he’s been moved to. OK, it didn’t work with Julian, but that doesn’t mean it won’t work with Mac. I have to try to bring him on to my side. Mac is a rarity among policemen. He’s not all about rules and payback, black and white crime and punishment. He is compassionate. I’ve seen that side of him and I’m sure I can make him understand my position. If not one way, then the other. Put simply, I have information that could ruin his career. A whisper in the right place and he’d be discredited. It’s not what I want – the police service would be a lesser place without him – but my options are running out and I don’t have the luxury of sentiment.
I’m not in the least bit tired, so I make way down the stairs, to the bottom of the house, and poke my head round the door to Jack’s room. He has fallen asleep with the television on, the remote control still in his hand. I take the remote and turn off the TV. He doesn’t stir. I kiss his forehead and look at him for a minute. When he’s asleep, he looks so young, his face smooth and unlined. He’s lucky not to have suffered from teenage acne and his skin is soft. He doesn’t need to shave yet, and in spite of his assertion that he is almost a man, he still looks every bit sixteen.
I go up to the ground floor and into the sitting room, stand at the bay window and pull the curtain a little to one side. The police have stepped up their security. One of them is standing at the bottom of the steps. The porch light is on and he is alert, looking out into the darkness, his head moving from side to side as if waiting for someone to materialise. Feeling reassured, I slide the curtain back and go into the hallway. I hover outside Lisa’s door, listening for the sound of her breathing. I push it open a crack and the hinges creak.
‘Is that you, Claire?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘I was already awake.’ She switches on the bedside light. ‘I spent too much time sleeping during the day. And you?’