Behind the Lie

by Amanda James

  ‘Well, I’m just saying…’

  ‘Well, please don’t. I have enough scary scenarios racing around my brain, including that one.’ He purses his lips and shrugs. ‘So, if you really think the Jensons might be doing a runner right now, what’s the point in sneaking up there in the dead of night? Hardly a feasible plan, is it?’

  He looks at the ceiling. ‘Hey, I’m not the enemy here.’

  ‘No. I know you’re not.’ My hand finds his. ‘Without you we wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I could never have come this far, and if I’d gone up there on my own today… well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘What I wouldn’t give to have an hour on my own with that fucking coward. Poor Angela.’

  I’m glad I haven’t told him what Simon attempted the other night. I sigh. ‘Yes. My heart goes out to her and I believe hers is coming out to me right now.’

  Jowan tightens his grip on my hand and slips his arm around my shoulder. ‘I hope to God you’re right. I think she’s a good person, but her conscience is fighting on two fronts. One, she’s terrified of Mark, and two, she obviously loves Ruan. So…’

  He doesn’t need to finish. ‘If we abandon hope of her doing the right thing we might as well just drive away now,’ I say. Suddenly weary, I rest my head on his shoulder. ‘Let’s sit tight and hope for the best. We’ll wait until it’s dark and then drive up to see if they’re still there. If they are, and we don’t hear from Angela, we’ll text in the morning.’

  ‘And if they aren’t there?’ Jowan strokes my hair.

  ‘Then we go up to their house in London. If they aren’t there either, we go to the police. We won’t have any choice. I’ll do anything to get Ruan back, even if it means…’

  ‘Okay. Sounds like a plan, Holly,’ he says quietly.

  I look up into Jowan’s eyes. There’s an intensity in them that draws me in; my heart thumps and, as I open my mouth to say thank you, he kisses me. My arms go round him and I kiss him back, passionately. I feel his surprise, momentarily, but then he’s holding me tight, pushing me back on the bed. No. This is so wrong on so many levels. His hands find their way under my top and caress my breasts and I draw back. ‘No. We can’t do this, Jowan,’ I say, though every fibre of my being aches for his touch.

  He shakes his head and kisses me again, tenderly. ‘Why not, my love?’

  ‘Because…’ But, just at this moment, I can’t think of a reason and twist my hand into his curls, pull his mouth to mine.

  *

  The last pink fingers of sunset reach in through the window and I stroke Jowan’s face. I’m in an armchair by the door, watching him sleep. There have been no yells of terror in the night. He looks so peaceful. The duvet is barely covering his groin and his arms are flung out to the sides as if he’s worried someone might take up space in the bed. He’s no concerns on that score. My eyes travel the length of his body, linger on his tanned, muscular torso and the slow rise and fall of his chest, and then I cover my face with my hands. What the bloody hell was I thinking? I obviously wasn’t. Well, not with my head, that’s for damned sure. What kind of mother jumps into bed with her ex-lover when her child is still missing from her arms? Is up the road with strangers?

  Once was bad enough, but we have been in bed for hours. Jowan told me it was a normal reaction after my first few guilty worries and reasoned that we needed each other. I must admit I didn’t put up much of a counterargument. Especially after he told me how much he loved me. There was no way I was reciprocating though. Thank goodness for small mercies. My mouth is dry and my heart is heavy. God knows what happens now.

  In my bag there’s a bottle of water and I chug almost all of it down, even though it’s warm and tastes of plastic. And now my belly rumbles. How can I think of food at a time like this? What’s happening to me? As I’m wiping the back of my hand across my mouth, I catch Jowan’s eyes on me, a slow smile spreading across his face. I put the bottle down and my head back in my hands.

  ‘Hey, Hols, you okay?’

  My tongue has a few choice replies ready, none of them suitable before the watershed. I sigh and look at him sitting up in bed, plumping pillows as if we’re on a jaunt away or something. ‘No, I’m not, Jowan. My boy is half a mile away with people who have stolen him from me, but am I rushing to try and get him back, phoning the police, calling the media, anything that might help? No. No. I’m here with you; have been in bed with you all afternoon and evening.’ I hold a finger up at his protest. ‘Oh, and now I’m starving too.’

  Jowan looks like he’s trying not to laugh. He’d better not or I won’t be responsible for my actions. ‘Calm down, Hols. You’re human. You have needs and hungry is normal.’ He folds his arms across his chest. ‘You need fuel to keep your strength up for Ruan. And as I said before, about us making love, it’s the most natural thing in the world to comfort each other when things are…’

  ‘People can comfort each other without jumping into bed. It’s true; I read it somewhere.’

  He sighs. ‘If you want to call the police, go ahead. It might be for the best.’

  ‘Not yet. We stick to the plan.’ I gesture to the fast-disappearing sunset. ‘It’ll be dark in an hour or so. We’ll go back to the cafe, eat, and then go up to the Jensons’ – see if they’re still there.’

  ‘Good. You’re being practical now.’ He slips out of bed, walks naked towards me.

  Keeping my eyes level with his I hold up my hand and say, ‘All this stops now.’

  A mischievous twinkle and a grin. ‘What does?’

  ‘Stop it, Jowan. I can’t even think about what we’ve done, or what it means at the moment. It happened because I’m anxious beyond belief; needed comfort, as you say. You caught me at a weak moment, that’s all. I need a clear head, uncluttered with any romantic notions.’

  He puts his head on one side, folds his arms. ‘So, you have romantic notions about me? That’s promising…’

  ‘Enough!’ I say, a bit too harshly, but this isn’t some fucking game. This is my life, my son’s life.

  He says sorry and gets dressed. I want to say sorry too but I don’t, because I’m not. Well, not entirely. In my chest there’s a big ball, stuffed full of confusion, guilt and anger, bouncing around. Happiness is struggling to get out of the shadows too, because Jowan says he loves me. Dear God, I really don’t need this on top of everything else.

  *

  The energy rush from dinner gives my brain a boost and my thoughts untangle a little. The guilt and anger abate a little, but the confusion is still as robust as ever. It has linked arms with happiness and the two seem content to bounce around together for now, so I shelve both in a distant part of my mind and concentrate on the here and now.

  ‘Okay. Ready to drive up to the…?’ I begin, but on the table between us Jowan’s mobile vibrates and dings twice.

  ‘A message,’ he says to my raised eyebrows. I watch him push buttons and then my heart thumps when he says, ‘It’s Angela.’

  With a shaking hand I take the phone from him and read:

  Holly, after you’d gone, Mark and I talked. I told him that even if you were telling the truth – that you weren’t ever in an institution and that Jonathan and he went behind Simon’s back and took your son – I wouldn’t care. I said there would be no way on earth that I’d let you have him back. I hugged him, told him I loved him, thanked him for bringing me our child, and said we should move away – emigrate as soon as possible.

  My hand is shaking so much and tears fill my eyes. Jowan’s fingers reach for the phone and he starts to reads it out loud from the start. ‘No. The next bit after emigrate…’ I want to cover my ears and run away, but I have to know.

  ‘“Mark was thrilled, said he wished he’d told me before, and it was a weight off his shoulders to know I was behind him. He said there’d be no need to emigrate as you would be no problem for us. I asked him to tell me exactly what happened – everything – and he
did. Do you know he seemed quite proud of himself? God, Holly, you don’t know the half of it… I told him I’d take our son back to London in case you came back while I was here alone. As you may remember, I told you that, tomorrow, Mark leaves for Exeter and will be away the rest of the weekend. He didn’t see a need to change his plans, so confident was he that you were beaten.”’

  Jowan looks up from the screen, touches my cheek, but I brush his hand away. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘No. Just checking on you. You’re white as a sheet and…’

  A scream of frustration is waiting but I make myself say, ‘Read it.’

  He scans the message and then a huge smile of relief lights up his face. ‘Oh Holly, it’s okay, listen to the next bit! “…But it’s him that’s beaten. He’s an evil bastard who deserves his comeuppance. I’ll ring you tomorrow when he’s gone. I’ll have your son ready and waiting, because it’s the right thing to do, even though the pain of losing him is already tearing the heart out of me. Angela.”’

  No. No, that can’t be right, surely? Dashing my tears away on the back of my forearm, I grab the phone from him, scan the message from top to bottom, then read it again more slowly. ‘Oh, my God, Jowan. OH MY God!’ A huge sob bursts out and everyone turns to look. I couldn’t care less though. Nothing matters any more.

  Jowan’s eyes are moist too, but he’s laughing. Thumping the table and laughing. The expressions on the other diners’ faces are a mixture of disgruntled and amused, and that makes me laugh too. I’m laughing so hard that I’m crying, and then I’m laughing; I can’t stop either. Hysteria claims me totally, and I am helpless to speak, move or think. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here before they do send you to an institution,’ Jowan says and propels me outside.

  It’s nearly midnight and I’m alone in my room. I’m pacing the same bit of carpet that Jowan paced earlier. Every limb is weary with emotional exhaustion, but I can’t rest until Jowan comes back. I’ve sent him up to the Jensons’ to see if they really are still there and that Angela’s text wasn’t some kind of ruse. Jowan texted Angela back a short message dictated by me. Thank God, Angela. Thank you so, so much. We’ll await your call.

  Since dinner, we have talked and puzzled, but are none the wiser as to how she will explain herself to Mark. When he finds out she’s given Ruan back, she will surely be in terrible danger. We also discuss how long it will be before Simon finds out… Mark will obviously be on the phone to him the minute he finds out Angela has betrayed him.

  Jowan also brings up the subject of where we will go with the twins. He has an aunt in Sheffield who lives on the moors in an old farmhouse. He says we will be safe there for a while, until we can figure out what to do next. I tell him he’s under no obligation to do anything, but he just smiles and hugs me. I have no words and none are necessary.

  I force myself to lie down on the bed, try to rest my eyes. Part of me is euphoric, bordering on hysteria; the other part is terrified it’s all some cruel charade. I called Demi to check on Iona and tell her everything that’s happened, and she said I should be cautiously optimistic, because why the hell would Angela text and say those things if she didn’t mean them? I had to concede I couldn’t think of a logical reason, unless it’s because Angela is just as evil as her husband, intent on crushing me. This thought, however unlikely, churns my stomach, and then I hear footsteps hurrying along the landing outside.

  Jowan comes in. He’s smiling. ‘There are two cars outside the Jensons’ still, and light in an upstairs window.’

  My heart leaps and then I allow it to soar. This looks promising. Very promising. ‘Nothing could sound sweeter to my ears,’ I say, and a hundred knots start to loosen in my shoulders.

  ‘Sounds good to me too.’ Jowan sits in the armchair and takes off his trainers.

  Plumping the pillows I settle back on the bed and give him a grateful smile. ‘Thanks so much, Jowan… for everything. Now we’d better get some sleep. If we can, of course. I can hardly wait for the morning.’

  He raises an eyebrow. ‘Do you want me with you… or?’

  This is a question that has no straightforward answer. Yes, I want him, but I don’t want to make love. I need to keep all my focus on Ruan. Anything else would feel wrong. ‘No, as I said, it was a weak moment…’

  His face falls but he says, ‘I could just hold you? Or I could go next door. Whatever you want to do, Holly.’

  A smile spreads through me. He understands totally. I reach out my hand to him.

  ‘Hold me until the sun comes up, Jowan. It’s a long time since you did that.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The sun and I rise together. There’s a mist draped over the curves of the land and a crescent moon still hanging in the pale, clear sky. It promises to be another beautiful day. June is already here. Over the last few days she’s been determined to create a good first impression by weaving a riot of wildflowers through the hedgerows, dappling through the meadows, and adding deep blue to the skies and ocean. I see her efforts, with my baby stolen from me, they only serve as a reminder of just how much time has passed without him. This day will change all that. Then I correct myself. No point in getting too confident. I add ‘all being well’ to my thoughts.

  Jowan wakes and we shower and go down to breakfast. I check us out beforehand and settle the bill, because once the phone call comes from Angela, we are out of here. We are almost finished breakfast when it comes. Jowan hands his phone to me.

  ‘Angela?’

  ‘Yes. Mark’s just left.’

  ‘I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am to…’

  ‘Then don’t.’ There’s a sigh. ‘Sorry, but this is so hard. Just come up here now and take him. There will be no conversation when you arrive. I have written down everything about what food he’s been having, his sleep patterns – everything. His clothes and toys are… all…’ Angela’s voice cracks and she takes a few breaths. ‘…All packed and so there’s nothing else to say. I could apologise, but given that I knew nothing of Mark’s crime and your situation, I can’t blame myself. Won’t.’

  I swallow a lump of emotion. ‘No. Of course not. But don’t go yet’ I need to know how you’ll protect yourself after Mark finds out and…’

  ‘Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be far away by the time Mark finds out. He won’t look for you or make any trouble, because I’ve left him a letter explaining that, if he does, he will certainly be arrested and charged with abduction and God knows what else… He won’t ever try to look for me either, or recover the sizeable amount of money I will take from his personal safe when I get back to London later.’

  Jowan’s mouthing ‘what’s she saying?’ at me, so I flap my hand at him and turn my back. ‘But why… I don’t understand, Angela.’

  ‘Because I taped everything he said to me last night on my mobile phone.’

  My hand flies to my mouth and I can hardly breathe. ‘Oh, my God…’

  ‘All his disgusting confession, the pride in his voice at the way he got what he wanted. I made sure he named names too… Then I said, “Oh, what a clever husband I have, Mark Jenson!” There’s no ambiguity at all about the people involved. The “confession” will be kept with a solicitor, in case I should ever need it.’

  Could this really be happening? In my wildest dreams I never expected such a wonderful outcome. ‘That is unbelievable, Angela! My goodness and you’re so brave, given what we know about him.’ Jowan has come round the table now, doing the mouthing thing again, so I put my forefinger to my lips and glare at him.

  ‘Oh, I’m not stupid. I think he’ll try and find me, eventually. Hurt me somehow – perhaps make it look like an accident. But I know Harry should be with you… you’re his mother, so I’ll take my chances.’

  Then I remember something that’s been nagging me since yesterday. ‘Angela, in your text you said I didn’t know the half of it… what did you mean?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about
it. The more people that know the whole story, the more dangerous it is for me. You’re better off not knowing, trust me.’

  The ice in her voice makes me shiver and I hug myself. ‘Angela, I don’t know what to…’

  ‘Just get up here now, before I change my mind.’

  *

  ‘So she’s going to take money from his safe? How does she know the combination?’ Jowan says as we fly along the country lanes. He’s doing his thousand questions in thirty seconds thing, and I’m doing my ‘I don’t know so shut up’ face. There’s a herd of galloping horses in my chest and I blot everything else out apart from holding my boy in my arms. My boy, my boy.

  We swing on to the gravel drive and the door opens at the Jensons’. Angela comes out with a huge stripy bag and places it next to the three already on the doorstep. Jowan pulls up and cuts the engine. Through the windscreen my eyes meet Angela’s and she tries a brief smile. Her face is pale, eyes red-rimmed and so puffy I wonder how she can see out of them. Then I get out and she goes inside. For one moment I think she’s changed her mind and I hurry to the door. Then she’s out again with a car seat. And in the car seat… is… my boy. My Ruan.

  A cry leaves my throat and I close the remaining steps between us as Angela runs inside, closes the door. I can hear her anguished sobs as I pick up my son and wrap my arms around him, hold him tight to my chest, smell the scent of his hair. I turn to the car, to Jowan, but after a few steps, my legs decide this is all too much and I sink to my knees, rocking him, kissing his soft, downy cheeks. Then I hold my boy at arm’s length and it’s like looking at Iona. Ruan has a little more hair, but it’s the same blond and his eyes are hers; are mine.

  Jowan kneels beside us and strokes his hair. ‘He’s so much like Iona,’ he says, and there’s a catch in his voice.

  My voice is lost for the moment so I just nod. I’m surprised I’m not crying because I feel like I want to, but there’s this huge swell of happiness inside me, a tidal wave of joy that’s sweeping away all capacity for tears, even of relief. Ruan isn’t crying either; he’s smiling and trying to touch my cheek. Angela is crying enough for all of us. Though I feel sorry for her, the sound of her hysterical sobbing gives strength to my legs and I tell Jowan to gather up all the bags because we need to leave, and quickly.