Stolen Beginnings

by Susan Lewis

  ‘But I didn’t, not then. She did not regain consciousness before the knife hit her, so how could I have known?’

  ‘But you know now?’ he said, and his expression was so pathetic that for a moment her resolve wavered.

  Quickly she pulled herself together, and with her hands clutched tightly round her bag she said, ‘The police tell me that you’ve never expressed any remorse for Madeleine’s death – that all you’ve ever sought to do is clear yourself. And yet, if you hadn’t taken her there . . .’

  ‘Marian! How can I express regret when I don’t feel it? How can I tell them I’m sorry he killed her when all the time I knew he would? I wanted him to, I wanted to be rid of her. Surely you of all people understand that.’

  ‘Understand?’ she gasped, her head suddenly spinning with confusion. ‘How can I understand that, when you always said you loved her?’

  For a moment Paul too seemed bemused, and shook his head as if trying to clear it. ‘But I never loved her, Marian. I only ever loved you. I did it all for you . . .’

  ‘No!’ she cried, pushing herself back in her chair. ‘No, you’re lying!’

  His eyes were filled with tenderness as he reached out for her hand, but when she ignored him he only smiled. ‘I had to do it, Marian, it was the only way I could see to get her out of our lives. She pestered me when we were in Bristol, she never stopped begging me to leave you, she would never allow herself to believe that I could love you more than I did her. But I despised her. She was just an empty shell. She didn’t understand your worth, she ridiculed you and taunted me with your virginity, saying I was a failure as a man. But you and I both know it wasn’t like that. For us it was special, there was something beyond sex, beyond anything she could ever comprehend, and in the end the only way to show her how worthless she was was to do what I did. I got her away from you. I did it in such a way that later you would recognise her treachery, see her for what she really was . . . I was always going to come back to you, Marian, always. I will now, it’s all I want in the world, to be with you again. To give you everything I have, to share my life and my love with you. That’s why you’ve got to tell them that I didn’t kill her, so that we can be together. Please, Marian, try to understand the sacrifices I have made for us. I know you still love me, I see it in your eyes every time you look at me, and God knows how it’s torn me apart not being able to hold you and kiss you the way I want to. Please, Marian, don’t let all this be for nothing. Even if you didn’t know she was still alive when I left, you can say that she was – no one will know. Do it for us, Marian. Do it so that we can be together again.’

  Throughout the entire speech Marian sat motionless in her chair, at first too stunned to interrupt, and in the end so appalled that she wanted only to get up and run as far from him as possible. He had filled her with such shame that she could not even begin to break free of it, and even now, as she gazed back at him, her face was still paralysed by the shock of all he had said.

  ‘I love you, Marian,’ he said, and his voice was imbued with such feeling that at last something inside her snapped and she spoke.

  ‘You are a truly despicable man, Paul O’Connell. How could you think I would believe even a single word of the filthy lies that have poured from your mouth? I only realize now how truly fortunate I was to lose you when I did. You are beyond any feeling of pity I might have had for you. Some things I might just have been able to excuse: your sickening lack of integrity, the way you have tried to shift the blame for Madeleine’s death onto me. But what really disgusts me, what I’ll never be able to forgive, is what you’ve just said about Madeleine: the way you accused her of being all the things you are yourself. I will say nothing that will in any way contribute to your release. As far as I’m concerned, if they were to incarcerate you in the darkest, deepest bowels of hell you still wouldn’t be suffering half what you deserve to suffer. You are going to stand trial for murder, Paul O’Connell, and the whole world is going to know what . . .’

  ‘Marian, listen to me. I know this has come as a shock, I understand your anger. I’d forgotten how much you’ve changed, I shouldn’t have broken it to you like that. Let’s start again, let’s go back to the beginning and forget . . .’

  ‘I can never forget, Paul. Never! And you’re going to pay for what you’ve done to Madeleine, you’re going . . .’

  ‘Revenge, Marian? Is that what you want? After all this time, are you really still so bitter?’

  ‘This has got nothing to do with us, Paul, all that’s in the past. I stopped caring a long time ago.’

  ‘Then why did you come?’

  Her mind was reeling, and as she stared at him she knew her silence was only confirming his belief that she still loved him. Yet how could she tell him the reason why she was here? How could she say she wanted him to confess that he was a murderer?

  His eyes were overflowing with emotion as he leaned towards her and said, ‘Haven’t you understood anything I’ve been saying, my darling? Do you still really believe that I cared for Madeleine? How could I, when from the first time I saw you I have only ever loved you? You must put her out of your mind now, Marian, you must forget all that has happened, or there can be no future for us. You have to let go of your bitterness because there’s no need for revenge. I want you. I’ve always wanted you.’

  ‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘Don’t you understand that I know what you’re trying to do? Can’t you see that you disgust me with your insidious lies? You’re incapable of feeling, Paul, it’s beyond you; you proved that the day you left me, and you’ve proved it over and over again with Madeleine. You’re sick, Paul, you need help before you destroy any more lives.’

  ‘Yet you’re prepared to destroy ours?’

  ‘We don’t have a life to destroy, Paul. Can’t you see that I despise you? I despise you for what you are, for all that you’re saying, but most of all I despise you for what you’ve done to Madeleine. I loathe your foul deceit, the arrogance that makes you believe you’re going to wriggle your way out of here and back into my life. It’ll never happen, Paul, never! I detest the very sight of you, and I have done ever since the day I saw you walk through that door in Holland Park and back into Madeleine’s life. It was as if I was seeing you for the first time that day, and I knew then that there was something about you, Paul, that was not only corrupt, but evil.’

  All the time she was speaking his expression was changing, and she could see that at last she was getting through to him. Yet she had no idea what was going through his mind as he watched her, his hands bunched loosely on the table in front of him and the corner of his mouth drawn in a smile.

  Finally he sat back in his chair and peered at her through arrogantly lowered lids. ‘Quite a speech,’ he remarked. ‘Coherent, too. You are getting better. So if that really is the way you feel about me, what are you doing here? What do you want?’

  Since he had first come into the room he had been in control of the situation; everything he wanted to say had been said, and he had given her no opportunity to steer him in the direction she wanted. It was almost as if he knew what she was after – though that could hardly be possible. Now she was angry with herself for having allowed him to affect her so powerfully; she had lost sight of her purpose, and for a moment, now, she was at a loss as to how to begin again.

  When she looked back at him he was studying the floor, as if he had become bored with her presence, and suddenly she knew that the only way to deal with Paul was to tell him the truth. To shock him, to catch him off his guard. But he was clever, cleverer than her, and she knew it wouldn’t be easy.

  ‘I came,’ she began steadily, ‘because I know that you killed your mother and father.’

  His head snapped up as if she had struck him, and his face turned such a deathly white that for a moment she thought he would attack her. Then suddenly he laughed, a deep, scornful snarl. ‘Oh, do you?’ he said. ‘Just how do you know that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter how I know, I just
do.’

  His eyes were watching her closely, but the ugly smile was still on his lips. She waited as he pushed the hair back from his face, then scratched his chin thoughtfully. It was some time before he spoke, and her heart was beating rapidly. In the end his smile widened, and she winced at the venom in his voice as he said, ‘You silly, pathetic little bitch. I can see it all now. You’ve let them persuade you into coming here to try and get a confession out of me, haven’t you? Well, of course, what that tells me is that I didn’t kill Madeleine and everyone knows it. But you want me locked away, don’t you, Marian? You want your revenge so badly that it doesn’t matter whether I killed your cousin or not, you just want to see me suffer for what I did to you.’

  ‘You did nothing to me, Paul, you did it all to Madeleine.’

  ‘Who deserved all she got.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t try your amateur psychology on me, Marian, it won’t wash.’

  ‘Did you ever love her?’

  ‘I’m incapable of feeling, remember?’

  ‘But did you?’

  ‘I thought I did, for a while. There’s a certain satisfaction in bringing a doll to life.’

  ‘Was the doll your mother?’

  He snorted. ‘Spare me, Marian. I told you, it won’t wash. It’ll take a brain far superior to yours, you know, to trip me up. Still, if you want to play the game, be my guest. I just hope you’re a good loser.’

  ‘I wasn’t really looking upon it as a game. More as a bid for the truth.’

  ‘Same thing. Look,’ he said, leaning forward and folding his arms across the desk, ‘why don’t you get whoever it is who’s listening in the next room to send in the grown-ups? Maybe then they’ll get what they want.’

  ‘I get the impression you’d enjoy that,’ she said, skilfully disguising her surprise.

  ‘I would. A battle of intellectual wits, why not? I feel rather insulted that they thought someone like you could do it.’

  Ignoring the barb, she said, ‘You’d get plenty of intellectual come-back if you confessed.’

  ‘Ah, but then the joy of the hunt would be gone.’

  ‘It was during a hunt that you shot them, wasn’t it?’

  He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Very quick, Marian, very quick indeed.’

  ‘That was almost an admission.’

  ‘Almost, but not quite.’ He laughed again. ‘You’re cool, Marian. I didn’t think you had it in you. But I can see the sweat standing on your forehead, I can see the white knuckles, the twitch of the jaw. You’re so near, Marian, aren’t you – yet still so far. Because I’ve denied you your revenge now, your victory and your family. Madeleine’s dead – she’s better off dead because she’d have been nothing without me – and I can languish in a cell, happy in the knowledge that no one can have her now, no one can take her away from me. And you, Marian, can fester with your bitterness, because there’s no one left for you to love.’

  ‘Not quite no one.’

  They both turned at the sound of the voice as the veiled figure entered the room. But as the slim white hands lifted the veil, Marian turned back to Paul and watched as his eyes began to bulge with hatred, disbelief and repugnance at the hideously scarred face that looked back at him.

  ‘You see, she’s got me,’ Madeleine lisped.

  Suddenly Paul’s mouth started to twitch and his nostrils flared in grotesque, uncontrollable spasms. ‘You bitch!’ he hissed. ‘You lying, cheating little bitch!’

  Marian was on her feet, but as she turned towards Madeleine her blood suddenly ran cold as Paul screamed. He lifted his arms and wrapped them about his head, and still he screamed; his body was racked with convulsions of anger and pain, and still he screamed. Marian looked at Madeleine, but she seemed impervious to his cries; she stood quietly watching him from behind the veil she had now dropped back over her disfigured face. Then Marian noticed how she was shaking, how her poor hunched shoulders were beginning to fall, and as she reached out to catch her, Enrico was there, folding her into his arms and carrying her from the room.

  For a moment the silence seemed to breathe around them, and Marian knew that Paul was remembering everything he had said, the way he had declared his love for her, Marian, the way he had scorned and ridiculed Madeleine; and as his eyes clouded with shock she realised that somewhere, so deep down inside that he barely knew it himself, he had loved Madeleine; and if that love had not been so utterly destructive, then even here and now, after all he had done, she might have felt sorry for him.

  Inspector Vezzani came into the room and put his hand on her arm. ‘It’s over,’ he said. ‘Come along.’

  Marian was still staring at Paul, and shaking her head she pulled her arm away. ‘Paul,’ she said, trying to gain his attention. She waited until at last he turned to look at her, but it was only then that she realised she had nothing left to say – Madeleine had said it all.

  That night, after everyone had gone to bed, Marian crept along the landing to the room Madeleine had been using since her return to the Tarallo villa the week before. She and Enrico had driven to Switzerland to collect her from the clinic where she had been taken after her initial operation at the hospital in Florence. That operation had saved her life, though her lung had collapsed twice since, and on both occasions they had thought she would die. But finally the doctors had pronounced her out of danger and had allowed her to come to the villa for a while before they began the arduous and lengthy task of repairing the damage to her face.

  ‘Is that you, Marian?’ Madeleine whispered, as Marian pushed the door open.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered as Madeleine reached out to switch on the bedside light. ‘I wondered if you were awake. How are you feeling now?’

  ‘OK, I think. Still a bit shaky, but it was a long journey.’

  ‘Yes, a very long journey,’ Marian said, not without irony. She walked across the room and perched on the edge of the bed, tucking the sheets around Madeleine’s chin. She was careful, as always, not to avoid looking at her face, even though every time she saw it she wanted to cry. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she said.

  ‘I don’t think so. Maybe one day, but not now. Inspector Vezzani said he’s going to make the announcement to the press tomorrow.’ She chuckled. ‘It seems funny to think that everyone believed I was dead.’

  ‘You almost were. How do you feel about being resurrected?’

  Madeleine shrugged, and as she tried to smile her poor, twisted mouth seemed to pucker with pain. ‘I know people couldn’t go on covering for me for ever. I expect they’ll all be much happier now that they can tell the truth.’ She frowned, and lifting her hands from beneath the covers, she reached for Marian’s.

  Marian took a deep breath as she gazed down at their joined hands. ‘I should have told you what he was like as soon as I suspected it. Oh God, if only I had.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have listened, I would have forced myself not to. I knew he had faults, I knew it from the start, but I refused to see them, I can’t explain why. Now I don’t care, just as long as he’s out of our lives, that’s all that matters. But I suppose, after what we did to you, we’ve both got what we deserve . . .’

  ‘No, Maddy, you must never say that. You didn’t deserve to end up like this, you couldn’t have known then what he was really like – neither of us could. Now we just have to thank God that you’ve come out of it alive.’

  They sat quietly then, listening to the sound of the wind in the trees, and as the memories stirred in them both they looked at one another and smiled.

  ‘You needn’t have done that today, you know,’ Marian said, as she remembered the look on Paul’s face when Madeleine lifted her veil. ‘I would have told him you were still alive.’

  ‘I know, but he was so cruel to you. I wanted to shock him, I wanted him to see what Sergio had done to me.’

  ‘Does it hurt very much?’

  ‘Not any more. It did, until today, but now I just feel numb. No, that’s not true. I
feel like a different person, Marian. I feel calmer and – well, you know how I was never any good with words, but I just get the feeling that everything’s going to be all right for us now. That we’ve come through a lot and . . . Well, I’ve thought about this, and I’ve come up with something that will make you smile, I know it will. But for us I think it’s like . . .’ she paused and Marian could see that she was embarrassed, but nevertheless she pressed on ‘. . . you know, with me taking all your money and Paul and everything, well, this is my philosophical conclusion for us . . .’

  ‘Go on,’ Marian prompted.

  ‘It’s like . . . it’s like stolen beginnings but happy endings. Do you like that?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Marian laughed, tears stinging her eyes, ‘I like it very much indeed.’

  It was when Marian was leaving Madeleine’s room, much later, that Sylvestra’s door opened and Sylvestra herself came out onto he dimly lit landing, wearing her nightgown.

  ‘How is Madeleine?’ she asked softly.

  ‘She seems all right,’ Marian answered, ‘but I think she’s hiding what she really feels. It must have been awful for her when she saw Paul recoil like that.’

  ‘Sì, but she will get over it. We all get over these things in time, and soon, very soon, she will have a lovely face once again. For now it is you who give me concern.’

  ‘Me?’ Marian said, peering through the shadows to catch a glimpse of Sylvestra’s face.

  ‘Yes, you, Marian. You have been through a great deal these past months, and it is not over for you yet. Tomorrow, I know, will be a difficult day for you. I will not ask you if you still love him, that is your own business, but I want to tell you that whatever happens, whatever you decide, you will always have a home here with us.’

  ‘I know.’ Marian choked as she gulped back the tears. ‘I know, and I don’t know how to begin to thank you.’