by Susan Lewis
Tom stared at her, wide-eyed with terror.
Kirsten’s heart turned over. ‘OK?’ she repeated huskily, struggling to fight back the tears.
‘I want to stay with you,’ Tom said, his bottom lip starting to tremble.
‘I know, sweetheart,’ she said hugging him. ‘But I promise you, I’ll be right back. And nothing’s going to happen to you because I won’t let it. Now, will you do as I say and bolt the door? Daddy’ll be so proud of you when he hears how brave you’ve been.’
At last Tom let her go and waiting only until she heard the bolt slide across, Kirsten started gingerly down over the stairs. The hall was in chaos. The table had been overturned, books dragged from the shelves, coats and umbrellas were strewn across the floor and the coatstand was teetering precariously against the sitting-room door.
Kirsten picked her way through the mayhem, her eyes darting from side to side, her heart crashing in her ears. Carefully, she lifted the coatstand away from the door and stood it upright. Then, her mind feeling as though it was about to explode with tension, she pressed down on the handle and slowly pushed the door open. For several seconds she stood where she was, scanning the room with her eyes, then leaning towards the door jamb she peered through to see if Jane was behind the door. There was nobody there.
She turned away and stole quietly towards the kitchen. The door was open, she could already see inside. The kitchen was empty, but then her eye was caught by the cupboard door under the stairs. Too afraid to open it she pressed an ear to it and listened. Instantly she froze, but then realized that it was her own breathing she could hear. She put her hand on the door knob, squeezed it hard as she turned, then abruptly threw it open and jumped back towards the kitchen.
Nothing moved. Everything was still. Silent. Kirsten turned round. Her throat was parched and still burning from the chemicals. She walked over to the sink and turned on the tap. She drank, long and deep, then putting the glass on the draining board she leaned heavily against the unit, shaking uncontrollably as the tension ebbed from her limbs. All she had to do now was get Tom out of here and go straight to a phone. She had no idea where to tell them to start looking for Jane, but right now that didn’t matter.
Drawing a hand through her disshevelled hair she turned round and as she looked back down the hall her heart dissolved in terror.
‘Jane,’ Kirsten mumbled. ‘Jane, please stop this.’
Jane’s face was ravaged with grief, saliva and mucus leaked from her mouth and nose, her matted hair was plastered to her cheeks. Her hands were behind her back, but Kirsten was in no doubt that she was once again holding the knife.
She knew she was insane to go near her, yet knew too that she had no choice. Where Jane stood she was between Kirsten and the stairs, she could get to Tom and there was no way of being sure that Tom would keep the door locked.
Jane’s face twitched. Her bottom lip shuddered against her teeth as she giggled and watching Kirsten come steadily towards her, her frightened, bewildered eyes continued to glitter. Then suddenly she was wielding the knife.
Kirsten’s heart catapulted against her ribs. ‘Jane, I just want to hold you,’ she breathed. ‘You’re my baby . . .’
‘No! Get away from me,’ Jane yelled, but as Kirsten’s hand closed around her wrist, she let the knife fall to the floor and collapsed sobbing to her knees.
‘It’s all right,’ Kirsten said, kneeling beside her and putting her arms around her. ‘It’s going to be all right.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jane sobbed, hardly able to draw breath. ‘I didn’t mean to do it. I don’t want to go to prison. Don’t let them take me, Kirsten, please don’t let them take me.’
‘Ssh, ssh,’ Kirsten soothed burying her face in the back of Jane’s neck and pulling her closer. She didn’t see Jane’s arm snake out, neither did she see Jane’s fingers closing around the handle of the knife . . .
37
Laurence sped up over the Hammersmith flyover his foot jammed flat on the accelerator as he careered perilously from one lane to the other. He was aware of the police sirens behind him and glancing in the mirror saw the blue flashing light weaving furiously through the traffic. He changed down to give himself more power. The car screeched in protest, another driver bumped his car on to the pavement to clear the way. The lights ahead were turning green and pressing his hand on the horn Laurence blasted his way through the sluggish traffic.
Of all the times for his goddamned car to have broken down this couldn’t have been a worse one. He’d have been at Kirsten’s by now if he hadn’t had to go through the rigmarole of borrowing a car from Ruby’s neighbour and having to explain the urgency. He’d tried calling Kirsten from Ruby’s, to his horror Jane had answered. She’d said no more than hello before hearing his voice then ringing off and disconnecting the line. He’d left his father at Ruby’s to contact the police and keep trying Kirsten’s number until he got a reply.
He wasn’t even trying to understand why Jane had done what she had, couldn’t even begin to grasp the horror that someone as docile as her, as close to his family as she was, had killed two people, for right now none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he got there before anything happened to Kirsten.
As he attempted to force his way through red lights, ignoring the hoots and fury of other drivers, he saw the police car bump up on to the pavement, swerve around the filtering traffic and screech to a halt in front of him. He didn’t even wait for them to get out of their car, instead he leapt from his own, ran to meet them and explained who he was and what he was doing, thanking God for the publicity surrounding Kirsten’s arrest, which meant that one of the officers recognized him.
Within minutes they were once again speeding through the streets of London, this time with the police car in the lead, and one of the officers shouting frantically into his radio.
Blood was still streaming from the wound in Kirsten’s shoulder, the pain was stiffening her arm and as she drifted in and out of consciousness her only thought was for her baby.
Dimly she was aware of Jane sitting beside her, of thin fingers stroking her face and depleted sobs gently convulsing the frail shoulders that hovered through her clouded vision.
‘Jane,’ she whispered, trying to lift herself up. ‘Jane, you have to get help. Please!’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jane murmured, her hands moving gently through Kirsten’s hair. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it.’
‘Jane,’ Kirsten’s voice was so frail it was barely audible. ‘Jane, I’m going to have a baby, please help the baby . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jane whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’
Kirsten’s head fell back as another wave of dizziness overcame her.
‘You’re so beautiful,’ Jane choked, touching Kirsten’s face with her blood-stained fingers. ‘So beautiful.’
Kirsten’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment her vision was clear. Jane was looking into her face, intently, yet Kirsten knew she wasn’t seeing her. Then Jane’s other hand came up. The knife was still dripping blood.
‘Laurence is my Daddy,’ she said, and as the knife moved towards Kirsten’s stomach Kirsten suddenly found an energy that was beyond human power.
‘No, not my baby,’ she gasped, grabbing Jane’s hand. ‘Not my baby.’
‘Why do you protect it and not me!’ Jane sobbed. ‘Why don’t I matter to you?’
‘You do, Jane. You do,’ Kirsten breathed, keeping hold of Jane’s hands as somehow she pulled herself up. The pain in her shoulder was lessening as that side of her body turned numb.
Jane hunched her shoulders, drawing her hands and the knife between her knees.
Grabbing hold of a stair rail Kirsten prayed silently to God as she heaved herself to her feet. She staggered forwards as dizziness swelled through her again. But she was stronger now, she was almost up . . . She could get help . . .
But as she started down the hall she felt Jane’s hand close around her ankle. ‘No, ple
ase, no,’ she sobbed, clinging to the stair rail to keep herself up.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ Jane sobbed, wiping a hand over her tear-stained face. ‘I don’t want to do it . . . Not to you. But no one cares about me . . .’
‘Oh God, Jane, no!’ Kirsten choked, starting to reach for her.
But Jane only giggled, that pathetic, lonely little sound she so often made and with the knife clenched in both hands she fixed her sorrowful eyes on Kirsten’s and drove the blade deep into her gut.
‘Jane! Jane!’ Kirsten cried, throwing herself against her.
Jane fell awkwardly to one side, her hands still holding the knife. Blood was oozing from the wound as tears of pain and torment poured from her eyes. ‘I love you, Kirsten,’ she whispered.
‘Oh Jane! Jane, please . . .’ Kirsten wept, cradling her head. ‘Jane, you’ve got to hold on . . .’
Suddenly the front door crashed open.
‘Kirsten!’ Laurence cried running towards her. ‘Oh my God! What happened?’
‘You’ve got to get help,’ Kirsten gasped.
‘It’s right here. The police are with me. Dear God, Jane,’ he said, seeing the blood running over her hands.
Jane’s eyes were barely focused as she looked up, but seeing the dark shadows of police uniforms start to surround them she croaked, ‘I want to stay with my Mummy. Please let me . . . stay with . . .’
‘It’s all right, I’m here,’ Kirsten said hugging her.
‘Sssh,’ Laurence soothed, pulling Kirsten up into his arms as the ambulancemen began filing into the hall. ‘Oh, Jesus Christ, look at you,’ he said, seeing the blood seeping from Kirsten’s shoulder.
Kirsten turned back to look at Jane, but as she made to reach out for her Laurence held her more tightly. ‘Let them take her, sweetheart,’ he said.
‘She’s my Mummy,’ Kirsten heard Jane whisper brokenly to the men who stooped over her. ‘She’s my real Mummy.’
‘Oh God,’ Kirsten groaned, turning her face into Laurence’s shoulder. ‘We can’t let her go like this, we have to go with her.’
‘It’s all right,’ Laurence said, holding her close and over her head he nodded at an ambulanceman who was preparing to take her. ‘It’s OK,’ he said softly, ‘I’ll bring her out.’
‘Oh God, Laurence,’ Kirsten said, lifting her head. ‘Tom. We have to get Tom.’
Laurence’s face turned white. ‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘He’s upstairs.’
‘What’s happened to him!’ Laurence shouted starting up over the stairs. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s upstairs. In the bathroom.’
‘What the hell’s he doing here?’ Laurence demanded panic blazing in his eyes.
‘Jane brought him.’
As Laurence vanished Kirsten turned to look on helplessly as Jane was carried from the house.
‘I think we’d better get you to hospital, miss,’ a policewoman who had come to stand beside her said. ‘That wound looks pretty nasty to me.’
Kirsten looked up as Laurence appeared at the top of the stairs holding Tom tightly in his arms. ‘I’m sorry, Laurence,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. I had to get him to lock himself in, it was all I could think of.’
‘Ssh, ssh,’ he said, drawing her into the circle of his arm as he reached the bottom of the stairs. ‘You did right. He’s fine, just a bit shaken, isn’t that right, soldier?’
‘Excuse me, miss, but I really think you should come along with us now,’ an ambulanceman said.
Laurence looked down at the wound in Kirsten’s shoulder. ‘Go on,’ he said gently. ‘I’ll take Tom home and meet you there. Which hospital are you taking her to?’ he added to the ambulanceman.
‘Charing Cross.’
‘OK, I’ll come as soon as I can.’ He looked down at Kirsten. ‘Will you be all right?’
‘Of course. Just see to Tom.’
‘What was it all about?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Kirsten whispered, tears welling in her eyes.
‘Don’t think about it now,’ Laurence said, kissing the top of her head. ‘Just get yourself to the hospital, I’ll follow on as quick as I can.’
As Kirsten, escorted by the ambulanceman, reached the door she turned back. ‘Did you see Pippa?’ she asked, feeling as though she was asking about something that belonged to another world.
Laurence nodded.
‘And?’
‘Later,’ Laurence said, looking away. ‘We’ll talk about it later.’
It had been dark for several hours by the time Laurence and Kirsten arrived back at the house. The doctor had wanted to keep Kirsten in overnight, but Kirsten had refused. She wanted only to be with Laurence now, for him to be there as she tried to come to terms with all that had happened. During the afternoon they had both given statements to the police while Jane underwent emergency surgery. She was in intensive care now, her condition reported to be stable though serious. Kowski had been at the hospital too, though neither Kirsten nor Laurence had ventured to ask what would happen to Jane once she was in a position to leave the hospital.
By the time Kirsten and Laurence left there had still been no sign of Jane’s parents, though Laurence himself had called to tell them their daughter was undergoing surgery.
‘It makes you wonder just what kind of people they are, doesn’t it?’ Kirsten said, going to sit beside Laurence on the sofa and relaxing carefully into his arms. Her shoulder was heavily bandaged, her arm was in a sling, the cut on her lip had two stitches, the one on her hand had four.
‘Bad enough for her to fantasize that we were her parents,’ Laurence said, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes.
‘Did you ever have any idea?’ Kirsten asked. She was staring down at the scorch marks on the rug, hardly able to believe that it had all happened that morning when already it felt like a lifetime ago.
Laurence shook his head solemnly. ‘Not one. I mean I knew it was important to her to feel she was a part of the family, but it seems none of us understood just how important.’
‘God, what she must have been going through all these years . . . It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
They sat quietly for a moment. ‘I know it’s too late for this now,’ Kirsten sighed, ‘but I keep thinking of all the times I told her I’d spend time with her and never did. Of all the things she did to please me and I never really showed any gratitude. I suppose the trouble was I didn’t notice her half the time. She sort of blended into the background and we all just took her for granted.’
‘You know what intrigues me,’ Laurence said, ‘is how Dyllis Fisher got to find out so much. Did Kowski tell you, by any chance?’
Kirsten shook her head, then moved to one side to let him stand up as the telephone rang. While he want to answer it Kirsten switched on the TV to listen to the news. And that was how she discovered all that had been going on during the afternoon while they were at the hospital. Dyllis Fisher, it was reported, had been charged with perverting the course of justice and conspiracy to murder. Billy Fields, the chief location manager – and Jane’s boyfriend – had also been charged. Not surprisingly, though nonetheless pleasingly, all charges against Kirsten had been dropped. She couldn’t help a wry smile as she watched an interview with Dermott Campbell who was delightedly announcing his intention to sue Dyllis for fraudulently using his name. Then a reporter did a piece to camera from outside Charing Cross Hospital where ‘Jane Cottle is under police guard, but has still not yet regained consciousness after her operation.’
Laurence came back in time to catch the end of the report, Kirsten filled him in on what had been said while he was out of the room.
‘It’s so awful to think that the little romance Jane had in her life was just a sham,’ Kirsten said. ‘Dear God, Dyllis Fisher’s got a lot to answer for. What do you think will happen to her now?’
‘It’s hard to say, but I’d stake my life on the fact that she’ll try to buy her way out of this.’
‘Then I shall make damned sure she doesn’t. And what’s more I’ll ask Dermott Campbell to help me.’ She grinned. ‘Now there’s poetic justice if ever there was any,’ she remarked. Her smile quickly faded. ‘Actually what happens to Dyllis isn’t important really is it? She’s just a bitter and twisted old lady who’s getting her comeuppance with all the terrible publicity she’s receiving and who, if there is any justice in the world, is going to find herself behind bars for what she’s done. It’s what happens to Jane that matters. I feel so responsible, so . . . Oh, I don’t know. I just want to make sure she gets all the help she needs. If I can I want to try and stop her being extradited and put somewhere here where she’ll receive the counselling she should have and where we can visit her.’
‘Mmm,’ Laurence said.
Kirsten turned to look at him. ‘What’s the matter?’ she said. ‘Don’t you want to help her?’
‘Yeah, sure I do,’ he said, shifting his position slightly. ‘It’s just . . .’
‘Just what?’ Kirsten prompted.
‘I don’t know. I guess I’ve just got other things on my mind right now.’
‘Oh God,’ Kirsten groaned, ‘How could I have forgotten? It’s the hearing tomorrow. Who was that on the phone? Hellerman?’
‘No, my mother. Tom won’t settle.’
‘Then maybe you should go over there and be with him. It was quite an ordeal for him.’
‘He’ll be OK,’ Laurence said, kissing her forehead. ‘What matters right now is you.’
‘I’m fine, at least I think I am. Maybe I’m still in shock, I don’t know. But Laurence, you have to think of Tom. If Pippa wins tomorrow this could be your last night with him.’
‘It won’t be,’ Laurence said.
Kirsten drew herself up looking at him curiously. ‘What do you mean?’ she said. ‘Has something happened?’
‘Yes, but it can wait.’
‘I’d rather you told me now,’ she said, an uneasy sensation starting to gather at the pit of her stomach. Oh, dear God, no. She couldn’t take any more. Not today. Please let her be reading this wrong. ‘Laurence?’ she said, as he got to his feet. ‘Laurence, what is it?’