Chris swung for the keys. It was the second time he’d missed. ‘I’ll swing for you in a minute, if you don’t get this out of my sight.’ He stabbed a finger into Tommy’s sternum. ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’
‘Shit. Talk about over the top.’
That was a second time in a week Chris had been accused of theatricals. He accepted it from Vicky, but this? This was Tommy at his calculated best. This was Tommy doing the one thing he knew would cause Chris excruciating pain – disrespecting Lacey and Todd’s death by bringing, and unashamedly flaunting, a killing machine on his land. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘It’s a motorbike, Chris. That’s all.’ He knocked his arm. ‘Don’t know about you, but it reminds me of Lacey; expensive, with bodywork to die for. Great ride, too.’ He pulled out a helmet from the under seat hook. ‘Come on. Vicky’s got the boys. We could go now, there and back to Weymouth in thirty minutes.’ He thrust the crash hat into Chris’s hands. ‘And then you can tell me why there’s a small child and a woman living in our house. I’m guessing it’s so you can screw her senseless. Or have you done that already? Was she as good as the first time? Have you taken her to the beach yet?’ A nasty, slimy slug of a smile slithered across his mouth. ‘Is she as good as Lacey?’
Chris slammed the helmet into Tommy’s gut and rammed him into the castle wall. ‘You filthy piece of shit. Why have you come back?’
‘To make your life hell, Frampton.’ Tommy wrestled Chris to the ground, and loomed over him. ‘I’ve had a long, hard think about you and me. I never liked you. We aren’t mates, and I’m nothing more than your lackey. Your errand boy.’ He yanked Chris up by the front of his shirt, and then pushed him away. ‘You know what? I can’t be bothered.’ He pulled his jacket square, gathered the helmets from the floor, and spat in Chris’s direction. ‘I came back for Rick.’
That statement winded Chris more than any punch Tommy landed. It sounded like a threat, not an act of love. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked, willing his legs to stop trembling.
‘It means he needs to know the truth about his mother, and if you don’t tell him, I will.’
Tommy’s threats were never just that. He always followed through.
‘You leave me no choice, then,’ Chris said, heading for the castle.
Footsteps crunched behind him, and a substantial hand landed on his shoulder. Once, that had been a gesture of reassurance. Now it added weight to Tommy’s threat.
‘Not so fast, cowboy. You think you can charge in there and blurt it out? Pay the boy some respect. This is going to shake his world.’
Chris swiped Tommy’s hand away. ‘You’ve left me no option.’ He marched into the hallway, and was stopped again.
‘Man, I’m not a tyrant. I love Rick. I’m not doing this to hurt him. I’m doing it because he has a right to know.’
Chris spun round. ‘What do you want, Tommy? Spit it out.’
‘I want everyone to be in full possession of the facts. But don’t do it in a fit of rage. Do it with tenderness, and love, and understanding. The poor kid’s been through enough. Sleep on it. I give you my word, I’ll not say anything tonight.’
Chris sneered. The currency of Tommy was at an all-time low. His word held no value.
‘We can tell Rick together, if you like. Would that make it easier for you? And then Rick can decide whether he wants to stay with you, or come with me.’ Tommy swaggered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. ‘Back to America.’
‘The hell he will!’ Chris thundered in after him and kicked the fridge door shut. ‘He’s my son. You have no rights.’
Tommy extended to his full frame, folded his arms and scoffed. ‘It’s not about rights. It’s about right and wrong. It’s about a boy of thirteen, lied to and plucked from his home, forced to live thousands of miles away from his mother and brother’s last resting place. Do you think he wanted to come here? He cried in my arms like a baby. He pleaded with me to talk some sense into you. He begged not to be taken away from everything he knew.’ Tommy leaned in and lowered his voice. ‘Heard of a Petition for Emancipation? It’s where a child divorces his parent. The legal age in LA when this can happen? Fourteen. It’s only a matter of time.’
The words hit Chris with the force of a hurricane, and he reeled back, catching his thighs on the table.
Tommy continued. ‘You came here for you, and no one else, you selfish bastard. And look who you found. Little Vicky Paveley, eager and keen to please you.’ He was in his face now, his teeth clenched and his breathing hard. ‘And does she please you?’ he hissed. ‘I bet she does. She’s got fire in her eyes. And you know what? I’m going to have her. I get such a kick from having a woman I know you want.’
Another reference to Lacey? The fury travelled from Chris’s head to his fist at breakneck speed, catching Tommy on the chin. He recoiled, momentarily stunned, but stood back the second the fire door opened.
‘I think it’s time I took control of the kitchen again,’ Tommy said, his voice light and airy. ‘What on earth have you been doing in here?’ He turned towards the door. ‘Rick. That’s where you went.’ He placed his hands together, and held them to his mouth. ‘Let me apologise. I’m sorry for upsetting you with the motorbike. It was thoughtless.’ He lowered his arms. ‘But I’m going to be honest with you, because you’re old enough to understand, and you deserve the truth.’
He directed a hostile glare at Chris, before continuing his conversation. ‘The thing is, as much as I loved your mom and brother, I need to live my own life. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you don’t know what’s round the corner. If you want something, you should go for it, and if something or someone is making you unhappy, cut it and them out of your day. Life’s too short. Now, I’m going to think about dinner so I can prepare something you can actually eat.’
Once Rick was out of earshot, Chris struck back. ‘You’re full of shit. I can’t believe I trusted you all these years. You’re nothing but a miserable and lonely little man. And I want you out of my house.’
‘I’ll go when Rick wants me to go.’
‘You’ll go or I’ll call the police and have you done for trespassing.’
Tommy smirked and his entire face changed shape.
For the first time since he’d known him, Chris saw the true Tommy – vulpine, sly, opportunistic. He’d arrived there today with no reason other than to cause as much chaos as possible. ‘You’re full of shit, Tommy.’
‘Hey, Rick?’ Tommy shouted, leering at Chris. ‘I’ve something to tell you.’
Rick, with his hands in his pockets, and his hair hiding his features, plodded back into the kitchen. ‘Yeah?’ He’d resorted to monosyllabic replies, and he wasn’t making eye contact. His entire body drooped, like a discarded marionette; his spirit and energy, in the hands of the puppeteer, granted only if he wanted him to dance. And Chris would make sure his son never danced to Tommy’s tune.
‘Is lasagne okay?’ Chris said, allowing Tommy to take round one.
‘Yeah. All right.’ Rick headed for the stairs.
‘I can do lasagne,’ Tommy said, another smirk forming at his mouth. ‘Good choice, Chris.’
That was no choice. ‘The minute I tell him, you’re out of here.’ Chris scowled at Tommy, and then left the kitchen.
‘Can I come in?’ Chris dragged his arm off the wall as Victoria opened her external door.
‘Of course. Why didn’t you knock on the fire door?’ She gestured for him to enter.
‘Tommy’s in the kitchen. Didn’t want him seeing.’ Chris checked the lie of the land before proceeding. ‘He’s not come through, has he?’
‘No. He’s somebody I wish to keep at arm’s length. I know he’s your friend, but what he did was cruel.’
‘Can we talk?’ Chris proceeded to the living room, but was
stopped by Victoria’s hand on his arm.
‘Sorry,’ she said, taking it away, as if a sudden movement would cause an explosion. ‘Seth’s in there. We can sit at the table in my kitchen.’
Chris froze. Lacey was there, right in front of him, her eyes as desolate as the dunes of Death Valley. He wanted to say something; speak with her, reassure her things would be fine, but with his throat desert dry, he couldn’t even swallow.
‘Chris? You’re sweating. Are you okay?’
Victoria’s concern coaxed him from his trance, and Lacey vanished. ‘I’m feeling a bit—’ Before he could finish his sentence, his knees buckled, and he collapsed against the wall.
Victoria was with him in an instant, wedging one shoulder under his nearest armpit and her hand under the other. Between them, they shuffled into her room, where Chris slumped onto the bed. He managed to twist onto his side and catch sight of Victoria, before giving in to the hammering in his head. He closed his eyes. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m all right,’ he said. ‘Headache. Would you fetch me some water, please.’
He heard Victoria leave the room, say something indistinct to Seth, and then run the kitchen tap; it gave him a moment to collect his thoughts. He’d seen Lacey in the hallway, standing there, as lifelike as Victoria. He knew she wasn’t real. He knew it was his mind playing tricks, but what troubled him was that it wasn’t a typical flashback. He’d taken Lacey out of a familiar situation and transposed her into a place she’d never been. And she was so solemn.
Chris groaned, curled into a tighter ball, and clutched his head between his hands.
‘I’ve brought painkillers, and a cold cloth,’ Victoria said.
‘Thanks,’ he mumbled, unfurling a little. ‘I’ll take them in a moment.’ He flinched as a gentle hand brushed his fringe to the side, but he didn’t open his eyes. At the second pass of Victoria’s fingertips, he relaxed, and by the third, he was aware his breathing was heavy, and he was on the brink of sleep, ready to fall. A cool, damp towel was laid across his forehead, and held in place.
‘What’s going on, Chris? These headaches in such quick succession. Are they normal?’
He placed a hand over Victoria’s to increase the pressure above his eyes.
Her fingers twitched.
‘Sorry.’ He slid his hand away. ‘Press harder.’
She obliged.
‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.’ He opened his eyes to find Victoria kneeling on the floor beside him.
‘I wasn’t uncomfortable,’ she said.
Her enquiring expression led Chris to think there was more on her mind. ‘Still the thinker.’
She nodded. ‘And you’re still the wild one.’ She lifted the cloth, and ran the soft pad of her thumb over Chris’s scar.
He tensed.
‘You keep this covered.’
‘Yes.’ This was dangerous ground, and he wasn’t yet sure enough of his footing to walk there. He pushed himself up, fingered his hair into place, and rested against the cushioned headboard.
Victoria dropped her hands onto her knees, the cold compress tucked in her palm.
They both jumped as the internal door was knocked.
‘Stay here,’ she said, leaving the room.
Chris strained to hear the conversation. If it was Tommy, he needed to be out there, not cowering in the bedroom. He tried to rise, but his head and vision, working in tandem like professional tag-wrestlers, took him down. Before he had chance try again, Victoria returned. She tipped her head to the side as she looked at him.
‘It was Rick. He’s taken Seth to show him the smugglers’ graves. Said they’d be back for tea. Are there smugglers’ graves on this land?’
Chris held his forehead as he gave a tentative nod. ‘Smugglers or pirates. Have you got those headache pills?’
Victoria gathered the items from the bedside table, passed them to him, and then resumed her seat on the carpet. ‘Have you seen a doctor?’
Chris swallowed the tablets. ‘Yeah. It’s stress.’ He could tell from the way her eyes widened she wasn’t convinced. It was time for honesty. He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Okay. I sometimes have flashbacks.’
‘Of the accident?’
He nodded. ‘And things that happened before and after. They’re very real. They’re not like memories. They’re living, breathing re-enactments of what happened, but in my head. It’s called re-experiencing. All it takes is a trigger.’
‘Like what?’
‘Situations. Smells. Circumstances.’
‘Like Tommy and his motorbike?’
‘Yeah.’ There was nothing more to say about that one. Chris had expressed his thoughts in an exact and succinct manner already. He released a great sigh and rolled his head from side to side. Every muscle in his body was as tense as a highwire; even his jaws ached.
‘What about me?’
He straightened his neck. ‘What about you?’
‘Am I a trigger?’
In one unsteady motion, Chris lumbered off the bed and crouched next to Victoria. ‘No. Nothing you’ve said or done has provoked a flashback.’ He made a split-second decision not to mention the one in the cottage, when he was searching for Seth. ‘You’re the one person I’m safe with.’
‘So what happened in the hall?’
He scratched his head, messed with his hair, and then rubbed his nose. He didn’t talk about his visions; not about the detail. That meant verbalising, and verbalising meant acknowledging them. He’d spent two years keeping them to himself. If he’d wanted to talk about them, he’d have accepted therapy back in the States. ‘I can’t tell you. I’m not even sure it was a flashback.’ He raised himself back onto the bed. ‘So it wouldn’t help.’
Victoria slid her legs out from under her, flexed her feet, and then joined Chris. ‘Do you know that from experience?’
Caught out, he snorted. ‘No. But it didn’t help Rick, did it?’
‘That’s because he needs time to work things out for himself. He’s like me.’
‘And I’m not?’ His strength returning, Chris took to his feet and paced the floor. By his own admission, he was a doer, not a thinker. His reaction drew a smile from Victoria. ‘What?’ He rubbed at his palms. They were sticky and itchy.
‘You were always the talker, Chris. You used to tell me every thought that crossed your mind, and moan at me for keeping quiet. And good grief, you did go on.’ She was laughing now. ‘To this day I can dismantle, service, and restore a BMX.’
Chris ceased his marching. ‘I thought you loved all the detail.’ The unexpected recollection sent a dart of desire through him. He remembered how attentive she was, moulding his hands with hers, as he worked on the bike; how she hung on to his every word, watching his lips until she had to kiss him. And he remembered how much it turned him on.
‘I did,’ Victoria said. ‘I still do. So, tell me what you saw in the hall.’
The rapid change of conversation forced Chris back to the present, and he floundered as he tried to stop the erotic visions flooding his body. He couldn’t talk about Lacey and his love for her, when at that very second he was betraying her. It was as if his subconscious had summoned her to remind him where his loyalties lay.
Victoria caught his eye and simply said, ‘Tell me.’
He studied her for a moment, considering all the things that could happen to him – or her – if he opened the door to his very personal, very frightening world. He could run head first into another flashback, if that was what it was; Victoria could leave and never come back, or God forbid, he could cry.
‘It might help,’ said Victoria, as if she was picking up on his thoughts. ‘Call me a hypocrite, but at least I accept I store stuff here.’ She tapped her head. ‘That’s not who you are. You never were, and I doubt you ever will
be.’ She lifted her legs onto the bed, settled back and closed her eyes. ‘I’m not looking at you. Talk.’
Well, at least if he cried, she wouldn’t see. He swallowed, finding little relief from the action. ‘Okay,’ he said, gearing himself up. ‘I saw Lacey. And she was staring at me. And she was sad. I wanted to ask her why, but I couldn’t speak. I think she was upset with me.’
He waited for a reaction. Nothing. No flashback, no tears, no screaming woman yelling at him to never go near her again. Nothing. And then another thought occurred to him, churning his stomach and making the back of his throat rise. ‘What if she wasn’t upset with me? What if she was sorry for something she’d done?’ The final time she’d made love with him, she’d arrived with a sense of urgency. He’d accepted it as one of her shaky days, nothing more, but with hindsight her actions could be viewed as desperate. Guilty, even.
Victoria looked at him in astonishment. ‘Are you saying she came to apologise? What for?’
Chris dropped onto the bed. Tommy was threatening to take Rick away, but it was possible he’d already managed to steal Lacey. ‘What if she’d had an affair?’
‘Who with?’
‘That bastard next door.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Victoria was stunned, and struggled to find the right words. ‘I don’t understand. I thought you and Lacey were devoted to one another.’ And what about the HIV issue? Letting that slip would be an almighty mistake. She clamped her mouth closed.
‘I thought so too, until Tommy said something the other week. At first I thought he was lashing out.’
Victoria swivelled round so that she was adjacent to Chris. ‘Why would he do that?’
Chris flattened the duvet next to his leg, and then flattened it again. Victoria waited. When Chris had finished levelling the non-existent lumps, he leaned in to her, causing the bed to dip. She put her hand out to steady herself, and Chris caught it.
‘I need to tell you something,’ he said, his voice urgent and husky, his fingers hot and restless. ‘It’s about Lacey.’ He abandoned Victoria’s hand and turned away. ‘I can’t say it.’ He climbed off the bed, crossed the room, and opened a window. He gulped in three deep breaths of air, before returning to the centre of the room, a sense of determination on his face. ‘Lacey had a secret. One she didn’t want the world to know. Or Tommy. Or the boys. And we paid a lot of money to keep it quiet.’
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