by Amanda James
‘Shit. Shit! Just when we’re making a breakthrough.’ I fold my arms, look down the drive, then walk round to the French windows.
Jowan follows me. ‘Calm down. She might be lying about that, just to warn us not to try and break in or something. Anyway, she’s agreed to talk on the phone. It could still work.’
That’s true. I can tell Angela is almost convinced, and thank God for Jowan’s phone idea. ‘Good thinking about the phone, Jo.’ I offer him a quick smile and then Angela appears at the windows.
I hold my phone centimetres from the pane and go through all the pics I have of Iona from her being born until now. There’s some from before I knew about Ruan being alive as well. Me and Simon, proud parents – me smiling up at him, he cradling our daughter. When Angela sees those she puts a trembling hand to her mouth, sways a little. Then Jowan’s phone rings. Wordlessly he hands it to me.
‘Tell me what happened.’
I tell her, and when I’m done, she sinks into a chair and sobs her heart out. ‘Please, Angela, let us in. You know it’s the right thing to do. I know you must love him but you have to believe my story now, don’t you?’ I say into the phone. A sob is in my throat but I swallow it down.
She cries for a while longer then rubs her eyes, says in a resigned tone, ‘Yes, I suppose I must believe you… but why would Jonathan do such a thing? He’s a doctor, for God’s sake! How could he and Mark do that to you, your husband, be involved in something so awful? It’s too despicable to contemplate.’
My cheeks are wet now too and I shake my head. ‘That’s something I have yet to find out. I’m guessing Jonathan must have been blackmailed, threatened in some way. Your husband must be the blackmailer… seems the most likely answer to me. I have no solid proof it was Jonathan of course, but everything points to him.’
Angela asks why I haven’t asked, haven’t told Simon, and I go through the whole scenario again – the fact that he wouldn’t believe me, that he’s a powerful man, friends in high places, fears of having Iona taken from me. Angela gives a wry smile. ‘If you think your husband is powerful and controlling, then you haven’t met mine.’ She stands up and comes over to the window. ‘What he says goes… I have lived to regret challenging him.’ She shrugs one arm out of her light cardigan and all along her arm there’s an ugly twisted scar from shoulder to wrist.
My breath is taken but Jowan says, ‘He did that? He burned you?’
Angela nods. ‘Yes. Last year he was drunk. He was calling me a useless barren bitch because I couldn’t give him children. I said he was more to blame as his sperm count was so low and he flipped. Held me down on the hob plates.’
‘The bastard!’ I say and Jowan calls him something worse.
‘Yes, he really is. Since that incident, I have no money of my own; he stopped my account. I must do exactly as he says. He threatened to hurt my family if I had any further contact with them, and warned me not to talk to the neighbours. I was like his creature, a slave…’ Angela takes a moment and blows her nose on a tissue.
‘When he arrived home that day with Harry and told me that tale about you – that Simon couldn’t cope with him, didn’t want him actually, was almost on the edge of a breakdown himself after what you’d put him through, was grateful we could take him off his hands, that he knew he’d have a good home – I asked no questions. I was totally shocked, of course, but too scared to do anything about it. Just went along with him and came down to Devon.’ Her eyes leave ours and she flushes. ‘And of course… I did so want a baby.’
‘Dear God, I’m so sorry,’ I say and mean it.
She carries on as if I haven’t spoken. ‘It was the perfect answer for us, you see – well, for him. He was reluctant to go through an adoption agency. Mark is such a snob. He was worried a baby coming to us might have come from bad stock. From the wrong side of the tracks. Mark said your bloodline was problematic – Cornish yokels, he called you – but at least we could be sure that half of Harry’s DNA was Simon’s. Simon at least came from a good family, respectable, no rubbish there.’
‘How dare he!’ I spit, fury flooding through my core.
‘Is he really on his way here?’ Jowan asks, his face a mask of anger.
Angela’s head jerks up. ‘Shit, yes! He’s coming down early as he’s got a meeting tomorrow in Exeter and functions there all weekend. Oh my God, you have to go. He’ll be here any moment!’
‘No. I think I might like a word or two with Mr Jenson,’ Jowan says, looking at me for assent.
I don’t know what to say. There’s a whirl of arguments in my head. If we stay we’ll get into an argument or, in Jowan’s case, a fight with Jenson. He might call the police and then my fears will become a reality. I might never get my boy back. But if we leave and Angela, through fear and worry at the thought of losing ‘her’ son, confesses we’ve been here, he might force her to go with him – take Ruan out of the country or something. But then the decision is taken out of my hands as we hear a crunch of car tyres racing up the gravel drive behind us. Angela ends the call and hurries from the window.
A flashy red Alfa Romeo screeches to a halt inches from the door and out leaps Mark Jenson. He’s even taller than I remember and marches up to us, his eyes ablaze, two spots of high colour on his cheeks. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ He directs this at me and flicks his gaze over Jowan as if he’s scum.
‘What do you think?’ I say. ‘You have my boy in there and I want him back!’ My voice sounds stronger than I feel.
A flicker of panic shows behind his eyes, then it’s gone. ‘Don’t be bloody ridiculous! Your son is dead.’ He looks up at his house. ‘Have you being hassling my wife?’ He doesn’t wait for a reply but shapes up to Jowan. ‘And who the fuck are you?’
I get in before Jowan can. ‘He’s a friend who offered to give me a bit of support.’ With a flash of my eyes I warn Jowan to keep quiet.
‘Oh, I bet he’s helping you.’ Mark gives me a lecherous grin. ‘In and out of bed if Simon’s tales are true. Seems you won’t go near your husband these days. No wonder he’s screwing someone else.’ Though I knew about his affair, hearing it confirmed out loud takes my breath. Then Jowan gives Mark a shove in the chest. Not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to enrage him. ‘Oh, fancy your chances, eh, you little shit? Come on then!’ Mark shrugs his jacket off, lets it fall to the ground and takes a swing.
Jowan ducks it easily and lands one square on Mark’s jaw. He goes down on the gravel, cursing. He’s up again in seconds, shouting, swearing, spittle spraying my cheek. Jowan’s ready in a boxer’s stance, calm, unafraid, but I step between them.
‘No! This won’t help. We are here to get my son and we won’t go until we do. We don’t want to fight with you. Surely you can see what you’ve done is wrong?’
Mark laughs. ‘You have to be fucking kidding me. Out of my way, you mad bitch.’ He goes to push me, but Jowan dances behind him, gets him in a headlock, and forces him to his knees. He struggles but he’s no match for Jowan, who gives him a few sharp body punches. He can’t hold him for ever though.
Before I have time to change my mind, I pull Jowan’s army knife from my bag. I put it there ‘just in case’ the night before. Just in case of what, I had no idea, but now I do. Jowan shoots me a shocked expression but goes along with me. I put the knife to Mark’s throat.
‘Where are your house keys?’
Mark stops struggling, grows infuriatingly calm, drops all pretence. ‘There’s no way in hell I’m giving you my keys. You’ll have to kill me first. If you take our son, my wife will call the police and they’ll be here in minutes.’ He nods towards the house. ‘That’s if she hasn’t done so already.’
‘Really?’ Jowan says into Mark’s ear. ‘You really want the police here? I think they’ll be most interested in our story.’
‘They’ll see you for what you are – a couple of crazy people. You arrive here, scare my wife and child, attack me – I
have your DNA all over me, a lump the size of Everest on my jaw, and you are on MY property. I’m very close friends with the Chief Commissioner of…’
‘Oh, spare me the “I have friends in high places” act. Angela will…’
‘Will what? You’ve spoken to her?’
No. Don’t drop her in it, Jowan! I try to warn him with my eyes but he’s not looking at me and says, ‘Yes, we have as a matter of…’
‘We spoke to her through the upstairs window just before you arrived,’ I say in a rush, my hands shaking on the knife. ‘You did a good job on her – she refused to believe me, but she was a little curious as to how I had managed to ‘escape’ from an institution. I’m sure Jowan was about to say she wouldn’t take much more convincing?’
Jowan nods his understanding. ‘Yes, I mean, how could she trust a nasty, conniving, evil bastard like you?’ he hisses.
Mark turns his mouth down at the corners. ‘You both ought to be in a fucking institution, coming here, talking all kinds of nonsense! Now get that knife from my throat unless you intend to use it, and get the fuck off my property before I call the police.’
Jowan looks at me, a question in his eyes. I nod. We both know Jenson has the upper hand theoretically, if not physically. He releases him and Mark leaps up, brushes himself down.
‘We have friends who know the truth,’ I say. ‘People who will back us. It won’t be all plain sailing for you, no matter who you know.’ My voice sounds weak, beaten.
‘The truth? You wouldn’t know truth if it bit you on your arse… and let me tell you, I don’t take kindly to threats. You have absolutely no idea who you’re up against, my dear. And how the hell did you find out about my address here?’
I just glare at him, shake my head.
He shrugs. ‘Hmm, well, Simon will not be at all pleased when I phone him in a moment. When I tell him you’ve come to my home, all guns blazing, accusing me of taking your child. He was so pleased we’d been blessed with a son at last, when we least expected it. Your life will be in tatters…’ His hawk eyes give me the once-over and flick to Jowan. ‘Both of your lives. And I’ll help him out there if he needs me.’
Jowan looks like he’s about to attack Mark again so I hold my hand up and stand between them. ‘Look, give Jowan and me a moment to discuss this, okay?’
Mark picks up his briefcase and jacket. ‘I can’t see what there is to discuss, but go ahead. Don’t take all day though, I’m a busy man.’ He walks towards his front door and leans against one of the marble columns, looking at us as if we’re some unpleasant virus under a microscope.
Out of earshot Jowan says, ‘That man needs a good hiding and then some.’
‘I agree, but you won’t be the one to give it to him.’ I lean in to make sure none of my words find their way to Mark on the still air. ‘We’re here to get my boy and grievous bodily harm and breaking and entering isn’t a good idea. You heard what he said, heard what Angela said; saw what he did to her. Simon and Mark are cut from the same cloth, but Mark’s cloth is more expensive, and the money behind him means he can and will do anything. I can tell by the look in his eye, he’s a demon. He forced Jonathan into this somehow.’
‘So, what are you proposing we do to get Ruan back?’ Jowan’s frustration is palpable.
‘We wait and hope. Instinct tells me that Angela is the key to it all. We have her number and we’ll try and get her to see reason. We were getting somewhere just before…’
‘She’s terrified of him. There’s no way she’d go behind his back…’ Jowan sets his jaw and looks away over the sea.
‘You could be right, but we can try. Also, Mark’s reaction just now gives me a bit of hope. If he wanted to call the police, was confident we’d be chucked in a cell somewhere, he’d have called them. There would be sirens wailing up the valley right now.’
Jowan frowns at me. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that he no more wants the police involved than we do. Look, I’m going over to talk to him now. You stay here because you’re like a red rag to his bull. I’ll beg him not to talk to Simon, say I’m terrified he’ll take Iona from me, that he’ll believe Mark over me. In return, we’ll leave and not come back.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Trust me, I will be very convincing. Might even manage a few tears the way I’m feeling at the moment.’ I try a watery smile, but the corners of my mouth turn down instead.
Jowan does the telltale shoving of his hands through his hair again and chucks in a few twiddles of his leather wrist strap for good measure. ‘Well, I can’t see that it will work. Why don’t we call the police if you think he’s as worried as we are about them?’
‘Do we really have to do this again? And I didn’t say he’s as worried…’ A sigh of frustration leaves my mouth. ‘Right, that’s it, and that’s all. Just stay here by the car, Jowan,’ I snap and I hurry over to Mark. Then a thought occurs and I go back to Jowan. ‘Text Angela and tell her Mark knows nothing of what passed between us, apart from what we told him, okay? Tell her where we’re staying too.’ He nods and I leave him to his task.
‘You and the tousle-haired lover having a few words, hmm?’ Mark grins and fixes his haughty gaze on me as I reach him.
Keeping my expression neutral, I say, ‘He isn’t my lover, but yes, a few. The thing is, I need to talk to you in private about Simon. I’m already scared of him, but I’ve kept that to myself. He’s so unpredictable now and if he knew I’d been here, saying that you had Ruan…’
Mark raises a brow. ‘Ruan?’
‘That’s the name of my boy.’ I stick my chin out, fold my arms.
‘How quaint.’
Letting that pass, I say, ‘As I was saying, Simon is capable of anything. He tried to rape me the other night when…’
Mark clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘Most distasteful. He really should know better than that…’
I look up into his dark eyes and see humour and insincerity behind them. I want to slap the smirk off his face, but that would get me nowhere. Instead I look at the floor, put my hand over my mouth, and think of Ruan somewhere behind the door a few steps away. Achingly close, yet so far. Then the tears come. ‘Please, Mark.’ I look up at him, tears rolling down my face. ‘If you phone Simon like you said you would, I agree our life will be in tatters. But he might go further than that – do something stupid. He has the cheek to say he’s worried about my state of mind. But I think it’s him who’s the mad one.’
‘Do you really?’ Mark sighs as if he’s bored now.
‘Yes. He’d feel like I’d betrayed him, coming here with my friend, accusing you of all sorts. After what happened the other night I can’t stay with him, but if I try to run before I’ve organised a safe house he’ll come and find me.’ I nod my head over to Jowan. ‘Find us, and…’ I raise my arms, then let them fall. ‘Could you really live with our murders on your conscience?
‘What! I know you’re nuts, but I can’t believe you’re saying Simon would commit murder?’ Mark turns one side of his mouth down in derision, pulls his neck back, though I think there’s uncertainty in his stare. I must be a better actress than I think.
‘I don’t know for sure, and neither do you.’
He’s concentrating on my face, my every movement. Mark reminds me of a hawk waiting for its prey to make a stupid mistake, to come out into the open on a moonlit night. ‘So, you’re telling me you’re going to walk away, and that’s it? Forget this unthinkable notion that I have your son, if I don’t phone your husband?’
My heart is thumping and I’m afraid but not beaten. I don’t know where all my strength or ideas are coming from; instinct’s leading me. But I know, in order for him to even half believe me, that I have to be half honest. I nod. ‘Yes, for now at least. I have little choice. My hope was to speak to your wife and hopefully get my son back without your knowing, but unfortunately you arrived unexpectedly. Now you do know, there
isn’t much I can do. I’m desperate to hold on to my daughter at all costs and, if you tell Simon, taking her from me is the very least he might do… well, you don’t need me to explain further.’
We stare into each other’s eyes. I can almost see his quick mind at work and then he breaks the connection, walks towards the door. ‘Okay, until we meet again.’ He turns back, his hand on the door knob, puts his head on one side. ‘Because I know you won’t keep away for ever; you’ve said as much. But I’ll be ready for you. Now fuck off and leave me and mine alone.’
The door slams behind him and my heart plummets; it’s all I can do to keep standing. My boy is just inside, within touching distance. Still so near – yet so very far away.
Chapter Twenty-One
We have been back in my bedroom at the B&B for half an hour and Jowan is pacing. Just for a change. He’s been pacing and talking at me for the last five minutes. I have been sitting on the bed staring out towards the Jensons’ house, occasionally saying yes, no, I don’t know. He has various strategies for getting Ruan out. All of them are flawed and bound to fail.
The firm belief that Angela will do the right thing is growing in my heart. There was something in her eyes when she saw the photos of Iona. I’ve been trying to decide if it was grief, resignation or sorrow. Perhaps all three. And so, if she’s a decent person, and I think she is, she’ll find a way to do the right thing. Just like Yvonne did.
‘Holly?’
‘Yeah?’
‘So we stay here until the early hours and then…’
‘We stay here until tomorrow and if Angela hasn’t called by then, we’ll call her. She knows where we are…’
Jowan throws his arms up and flops down on the bed next to me. ‘For goodness’ sake, Hols, we can’t just wait for her to come to her senses. For all we know they might decide to make a run for it. They could be packing their stuff right now as we speak…’ His voice tails off when he sees the look on my face.
‘Thanks, Jowan. That’s exactly what I need right now to keep my bloody sanity!’