Assure her I’m doing pretty well. There are some decent guys to talk to and I’m keeping fit and doing classes. I’m learning things I never had time to learn while I was at work. Being in prison is hardly living the dream, but it isn’t as bad as you might think either. The food is edible. I’m warm enough and we’re let out several times a day for eating, classes, work, showers, exercise etc. I’m doing loads of reading and I’m currently battling with Shakespeare – things I never would have done. Not going to lie, it’s not the life I planned or wanted, but this is my reality now. I could destroy myself by stirring up bitter feelings about how I got here, but I’ve realised I’d only be self-harming. I have to deal with the present and Naomi will help me most if she lets go and begins to live her own life again.
Annabel turned the page over and continued to read . . .
Realistically, I could be out after eight years, which is eight years longer than Naomi should be waiting. She needs to get away. It’s a brutal and unjust breakup for her and for me, but a half-hearted break will only prolong the pain for both of us. Her connection with me and Nathan almost cost her her life. I love her, which is why I’m saying what I’m saying. Best not to pass this on. Just encourage her to go her own way now and if she finds someone else, I’ll be happy for her. These things take time, but a clean break is needed. If she makes an appointment to see me, I’ll refuse to see her. Instead, please could you come and see me, just once for closure? There’s something urgent I need to say that I can only say to you in person.
I’m out of visits for this month. I’m only allowed two per month at the moment and I’ve had both. So please book in as soon as possible. Hope to see you soon.
Regards,
Dan.
Annabel fixed her stare on the floor, her eyes moist. Disbelief mingled with disappointment held her still. Naomi had waited and waited to hear from Dan and now this? These words of Dan’s would crucify her and yet Annabel couldn’t disagree with any of them. Dan was right. She hunched forward, the letter tangled between her fingers, and the baby began to shift around uncomfortably. She stood, one hand on her back, pacing the room, her head full of Dan’s letter and all it meant.
Naomi would want to see it for herself, want to study each word, squeezing the page for detail, hidden meanings. But Dan had been explicit: no contact with Naomi. How could Annabel let Naomi see that Dan wanted to meet with her instead? What could be more weighty than the things he’d already said? How could Annabel let Naomi read those words?
She couldn’t. Annabel tore the letter in half, then quarters and kept going from there. She dumped the scraps in the bin. The words were seared onto her memory anyway. She’d talk to Naomi. She’d let her down as gently as she could in her own words.
How could she settle to packing her clothes or flat-hunting now? She snatched her phone off the bed, urgently needing to contact Naomi. Eyes closed, she called the number and tried to assemble an opening sentence. The phone began to ring.
35
It had been a long week of barely seeing Vincent Solomon except at dinner times. Every day, they’d eaten together at 7 p.m. Seven evenings of wearing different dresses from his various collections without particularly drawing his attention, then of leaving them outside her room for him. Of him using the vacuum cleaner in the small hours and disturbing her sleep. Of him toying with her over dinner, flashing his questions, evading the ones she sent back. Seven days of feeling as though she was underwater, but somehow managing to draw enough oxygen to survive.
The game was progressing, defensive on both sides. Cautious moves, nothing sudden or ambitious. She was following it closely in her bedroom on the chess set he’d left for her. Every move he made and that she made, she replicated in her room. And every spare moment – and there were lots of these – she’d examine the board and studiously plot her next move. The constant message to herself was this: this is what you’re here for. Stay alert. Don’t lose sight of the game.
So it was Thursday and she was anxiously awaiting Friday. Bin collection day. Another opportunity to go outside. The prospect of another message. The previous week, the van had drawn up just before lunchtime. She’d had a week to notice that Vincent was often out at that time. Heaven only knew what he did. So she was fiercely anticipating Friday, and like all waiting, it was frustrating.
Today though, she was agitated and exhausted. A week of disturbed sleep and she’d said nothing to him about it. Her patience had finally frayed to the point of collapse and she couldn’t remain silent any longer. It felt more like a compulsion than a choice.
She left her room early afternoon, her room keys in her pocket. Vincent had been back an hour and had disappeared inside his bedroom and locked the door. She didn’t know what he did in there either, but the assumption was he slept.
She let herself into the library and took a pen and sheet of paper from an A5 pad kept on a shelf beside a small printer. She penned a few lines of writing then walked to the piano, lifted the top and propped it open. For the first time, she sat down on the stool and opened the lid. The keys beamed at her like they were relieved to see daylight. Big white teeth, black fillings. She smiled back.
She suspended her hands above the keys at the top of the piano and began Liszt’s La Campanella. She’d known the piece for years. Her fingers knew just where to go, but her muscles felt rebellious from lack of use. She willed them to cooperate, to loosen and comply. The sound tinkled and tripped along, a little awkwardly at first, the odd slip, but she hopped on delicate fingers between huge intervals and as the piece wore on she relaxed and lost herself in it. For a few minutes she was transported. What an indescribable pleasure to call on her memory like this and get a reassuring response. The ending approached and she threw her weight forward and thundered her way through the final chords, hammers crashing violently against strings. A majestic sound.
‘Naomi!’ Her name was being spoken from the doorway behind her. She resisted a smile and ignored Vincent’s urgent hissing of her name and ploughed into the storm of the third movement of the Moonlight Sonata, enjoying herself now. Furiously ascending arpeggios blocked by a pair of hefty chords. Repeat, and repeat. She expected a tap on the shoulder. A hand to reach for the piano lid. She raged through the entire movement to the conclusion, without interruption. Her fingers shook with the rush of adrenaline. Her heartrate mirrored the tempo of the music.
Then silence. She lowered the lid and took hold of the written sheet sitting beside her on the piano stool and stood and turned. Vincent was standing in the doorway with nothing on. She wasn’t shocked. That’s how he slept, right?
‘I like my new piano. So powerful.’
‘If you don’t want to see me naked again, don’t wake me when I’m asleep.’
‘Nothing in your ten commandments about piano playing and you know when you just have an urge to play Liszt?’
‘Can you perhaps respond to your urges some other time?’
She walked toward him and looked him directly in the eye. ‘Liszt’s La Campanella. Italian for The Little Bell.’
A moment of silence. ‘I’m fluent in Italian, thank you.’
She shoved her note in his hands without looking down. ‘Dinner at 7? Get dressed. It’s the code.’ She passed him and headed for the stairs. He’d have read her angry scrawl by now. Thou shalt not vac during the night when normal people sleep. There was even a dotted line for him to sign.
For the first time, she felt as though she’d surfaced from underwater. She’d decided on her next chess move too, the thought of which didn’t calm her pulse. It was a sweeping move by her Bishop right into his defence. Time to shake things up.
Her phone was vibrating in her pocket. She waited until she was locked safely inside her room before she dragged it out. She’d missed two calls from Annabel, who’d then left a text. She could see the beginnings of it on her screen.
Dan’s name leapt up at her.
***
Joel knocked on the door of H
enry’s study.
‘Come in.’
Joel did. He closed the door. He could see Camilla through the window in the front garden, poking around the rose bushes with a hoe – the place where they’d buried the dog. One of the cats was climbing a nearby tree. Henry was at his laptop. It was a relief to find him alone.
He glanced over his shoulder. ‘What do you want?’
‘To talk. This won’t take long.’
Henry swivelled his office chair 180 degrees and fished inside his pocket. He held up a small coin.
‘This coin was found lodged into Shadow’s collar.’
‘Look, if you think I had anything to do with Shadow’s death –’
‘Your father did it. Indirectly, but he’s behind this.’ Joel was confused. ‘I knew him from school, you know. We weren’t friends, but we go way back, which is why he asked me to be his accountant. He knew my strengths academically.’
Joel shifted his weight. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I’ll bet. He collected souvenirs, your dad. Things he’d stolen from people. He scored his initials on the items. He didn’t need them or use them, he just wanted to have them to remind him that he’d taken something precious from someone who’d crossed him. He stole this coin from me in 1973. Date’s on the coin, along with the letters JS. I remember that it was new and shiny and I showed it to the boys in my class. Then it vanished. He apparently stole from dozens of kids and teachers, just because he could, and he put everything in a container and buried it in the school field. Course, I knew nothing about any of this until decades later when I was his accountant and he brought it up and thought I’d find it funny. I didn’t. I told him he should return what he’d taken. Seems he did, eventually!’
Joel was standing just inside the door, hands in his pockets. ‘I don’t know anything about souvenirs.’
‘My theory is that he confided in someone in prison. And now they’re carrying out his wishes even though Jimmy’s gone.’
Joel reached for a recent memory. ‘Wait, there was a guy he was friends with. He’s just got out.’
Henry scowled at Joel. ‘There you go. He’ll be scattering surprises everywhere, you can bet. Even from his grave, your old man is still punishing people who’ve never wished him any harm.’
‘Henry, listen, I want you to know that I’ve never wished you any harm either. I love Annabel and the baby with my whole heart.’
‘You’re rotten to the core, just like him.’ Henry said.
Joel’s lips quivered. ‘Maybe that’s true.’ Henry sat, watching silently. Joel got control of himself. ‘Truth is, I’ve never had a father. Not really. Jimmy Solomon cheated on his wife and I was the result. His wife at the time was Vincent’s mother. Jimmy never wanted my mum, so he packed her off to Newcastle out of the way. Just like that. I was born in the back of a black cab, a couple of hundred metres from the hospital. Made the headlines at the time.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’ Henry leant back in his chair.
‘I accept that I’m nothing, OK? My life started in a black cab and never got any better, until I met Annabel. When I was little, I never saw or knew Jimmy Solomon. I took my mum’s surname. My mum never spoke about him. I didn’t know I had an older brother or sister. It wasn’t until Vincent’s mother died suddenly that I met Jimmy. A stranger. Just waltzed into our lives like he owned the pair of us.’
Henry nodded. ‘I can imagine.’
‘No, you can’t.’ Joel paused while unpleasant memories stirred in his mind. ‘He didn’t want my mother. Just needed a babysitter for his kids. He’d dump them for days at a time while he dealt with business.’
‘What business?’
‘Drugs, apparently. A shipload would come in somewhere. He’d deal in Manchester. The nightclub he owned was just a sham to cover his real work.’
‘I know that. I was in charge of the accounts. He was fiddling his books all over the place. Fraud on a massive scale. I couldn’t ignore it.’
‘I agree, Henry. The nightclub was in ruins until Vincent took it over. Anyway, when the Solomons stormed into my childhood, my world flipped. No safety anymore. Charlie’s nine years older than me, so she was about fourteen when I first met her. Vincent was nine. Neither of them had a mother and both of them resented me for having one.’
‘I see.’ His tone was coarse, defensive. ‘What happened to Charlie’s mother?’
‘Heart problems, I think. All I know for sure is that she died and then he married Vincent’s mother three months later. A babysitter for Charlie, no doubt. Charlie only remembers Vincent’s mum and mine. She hated being dumped in Newcastle for days on end. Her only entertainment was to sneak out of the house during the night and hurt me during the day.’
Henry nodded. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘They don’t even like each other, Vincent and Charlie. They’re unhinged and damaged in their own different ways, but I’m nothing like them, I promise you.’
Henry pressed the tips of his fingers together. ‘Why should I believe you?’
‘Because it’s the best chance you have of saving your family. Vincent was set on destroying you until he met Naomi. Then the focus shifted.’
‘None of this explains why you pursued Annabel.’
Joel dropped to a whisper. ‘Charlie was threatening to hurt my mum, OK? She always carries out her threats. Black belt in karate. She can snap limbs like you can snap twigs. And she does. Regularly. So I was made to follow Annabel to Japan. Truth is, I fell in love with Annabel. It was the best time of my life, over there, away from them. Being free. I didn’t want Vincent to know how much I really cared about her, so I covered it and pretended I was going along with Jimmy’s wishes to hurt you all. Safest thing. But honestly, I’ve tried to protect her, same as Dan did with Naomi. Look how he ended up.’
‘You got my daughter pregnant. That’s unforgivable.’
‘To hurt you most effectively, Vincent wanted me to marry her. And he’s determined to have Naomi. That’s how he wants it – Jimmy’s sons with your daughters. Maximum impact. If Annabel hadn’t got pregnant, she never would have agreed to marry me and I couldn’t risk failure. These last few months, I’ve wanted to be honest with Annabel, even if it meant . . .’ he hung his head and blinked the tears away. ‘But Vincent doesn’t want Naomi to know the truth, so I’m in a corner, same as you. An oath of silence. If I do the decent thing, bad stuff will happen.’
Henry didn’t respond. He was watching Joel through his dark eyes, chewing thoughts over.
‘Why haven’t you said this sooner?’
‘Because you’re safer in ignorance. So is Camilla. The more you know . . . Look, you make a move of any sort and it’ll flag Vincent’s attention. You’re safe if you’re complying, acting normally. Right now, things are as Vincent wants them to be and he’s distracted.’ He paused. ‘Henry, he has Naomi.’
Henry snatched the chair arms, lurched forward. ‘What do you mean, “has her”?’ he hissed.
‘She moved in with him voluntarily on a promise of winning freedom for Dan if she meets his demands.’
‘Demands? If he lays one finger –’
‘He won’t. That’s not his style. Always a game of minds with Vincent. Charlie is the physical one. Everyone’s afraid of her. Chess is what Vincent’s playing with Naomi, one move a day. She’ll stay until the game is over. Weeks of her life where he’ll build a relationship with her. If she wins, he’s promised her Dan’s freedom. But losing the game isn’t in his plan, obviously.’
Henry stood and walked to the window, movements quick and agitated. ‘What the hell do you want me to do with that information, Joel? It’ll eat me alive.’
‘Just be assured he won’t touch her or anything. Vincent protects what he cares about. Believe me, I’m trying to help.’
‘I don’t think I can take much more. Every waking moment is torture.’
‘I’m sorry, Henry. About everything. You don’t deserve any of this, but you have to
be strong, for Annabel. I’m going to have to leave her for a while, with you.’
Henry swung around. ‘Leave her? What d’you mean?’
‘She wants us to move in together and it can’t happen. Too dangerous. So, I need to disappear to give Charlie something to do. I won’t be far away and Charlie will be ordered to come looking for me, which will draw attention away from Annabel.’ Henry kept sucking breath to respond, but Joel pressed on. ‘Vincent will be relieved that I’m out of the picture and he’ll never give Charlie permission to touch Annabel, because that would hurt Naomi.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Trust me. It’ll be me they come after, if anyone. My one dread is Charlie breaking away from Vincent and doing her own thing. She’s power-mad and competitive, but the only thing that keeps her under Vincent’s thumb is that he’s the wealthy one and she loves money. And he pays her well. She’s always wanted to work independently. You should fear her more than him.’
‘Oh, dear lord!’
‘Look, Henry, time is short. There’s one more thing you have to be aware of and it’s killing me.’
‘What is it?’
Joel inhaled deeply. ‘Charlie has wanted a baby for as long as I’ve known her.’
‘A baby?’
‘Yes. She’s deliberately tried to get pregnant from being about fifteen. You have to remember, she’s crazy. Some deep-rooted psychological thing because her mum died, I reckon. She’s desperate for a child of her own. Thing is, she must be infertile because it’s never happened.’
‘She hardly seems the maternal type.’
‘It’s about power and control and entitlement with her, that’s all. She’s furious that it’s never happened and she’s in denial that there’s anything wrong with her. Plus she’s in her thirties now. Time’s ticking.’
Henry put his hands on his head. ‘What are you saying here, exactly?’
Joel closed his eyes. Opened them. ‘I’m saying protect Annabel and my son, Henry.’ His voice shook. ‘She has fake passports. She knows how to get any certificate she wants. Whatever you do, don’t trust the police. Vincent has people in his pocket. Don’t ask me who they are. Keep your head down and don’t put your house up for sale. Look after Annabel while I’m gone and guard her with your life. I’ll be back as soon as possible.’
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