by NC Marshall
She didn’t bother to knock on his door before she entered. When it was only the two of them in the office, they knew each other well enough to bypass the usual politeness.
Turning on his chair to face her, Tony looked as exhausted as she felt.
“How you doing?” he asked, wearily.
Charlotte wrinkled her nose.
“Better than me last night I hope?” Tony asked, concentrating on her as he ran his hand through his rapidly greying dark hair.
She wanted to pretend that things were OK, for no other reason than to keep Tony’s morale positive. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about Donovan’s actions, but Tony’s energy had appeared to be bled dry.
“Not really! I’m bloody fed up to be honest – Donovan’s going on like he’s a sodding angel!” As always, her thoughts were revealed before she had chance to choose the appropriate words.
Tony sighed. “To be fair on him, he hasn’t set a foot wrong since he got out of prison last…until this happened, anyway.”
It was evident that Tony losing his temper yesterday was a blip, and he was now back to being the logical and dexterous DCI that she knew and admired.
“Yeah, that we know of.” Charlotte reached past Tony into the top drawer of his desk and pulled out an unopened Maltesers share bag. Biting off the corner, she poured a quarter of the contents into her hand, before returning the packet to the drawer and throwing herself onto a chair.
No matter where they were based, Tony would always have a drawer (or a glove compartment), offering sweets and chocolate. Considering they’d only been back here for a few days, he already had this one impressively well stocked and it was almost as good as the drawer back at home. On days like this, when allowing enough time for an actual lunch break was nothing but a fantasy, the drawer always offered a well-needed sugar boost to keep energy levels functional.
“Good to see the case isn’t affecting your appetite!” Tony smiled, his mood lifting.
Charlotte slumped further down into her seat, ignoring his sarcasm. Normally she would bite back with a lighthearted retort, but today she just wasn’t in the mood. Maybe Donovan had got to her too.
She couldn’t believe how calm Tony seemed now, and concluded that some reflective time overnight had helped. He was back to his usual professional manner, someone who knew the rule book inside out and rarely went against it.
“Do you think Donovan’s telling us the truth, Tony?”
“What, that his car was stolen the night of Megan’s accident? Yeah, I actually think he could be.”
“Then why didn’t he just tell us that from the start, why string us along?”
“He would have been waiting for advice from his lawyer. He knows better than to talk to us without legal aid, plus, he knows full well that it wouldn’t take much for him to end up back behind bars.”
Charlotte popped the chocolate into her mouth, but continued to talk through crunching.
“So, if it wasn’t him driving that night then who the hell was it, because we know it wasn’t just kids!”
Tony surveyed the busy unit through the glass door behind Charlotte.
Reaching into the sweet drawer himself, he pulled out the half-empty packet of Maltesers, tipping out a handful before answering.
“I don’t know yet Taylor, but I can promise you one thing … we are sure as hell going to find out!”
Chapter 23
I turn slowly around to see who the other voice is coming from and I’m met by what I can only describe as my brother’s doppelganger.
“I’ll take it from here, Elliott,” he says to the man I thought was Will.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “Who the hell is Elliott?” My brain feels overloaded and I point to the man standing directly in front of me, who’s still covered in dust from the boxes.
“You mean, he’s not Will?!”
“No Megan, I’m Will! Elliott is my best friend and business partner. He just pretended to be me.”
I look back at the man I have now been told is Elliott; the same man who, only 4 days ago, kissed me with more passion than I have ever felt. I stare at him, bewildered, and he nods to confirm that it’s true.
“So, you’re Will?” I spin back around and put my hand to my head. I’m normally more than capable of dealing with confusing scenarios, but this is too much for me to take in.
I take a hesitant step closer to who I now know is the ‘real’ Will.
“You're my…my half-brother then?” I ask. I want to look him straight in the eye, but, just like Luke, the height difference makes it impossible. I move even nearer. Close up, he doesn’t look as much like Luke as I had first thought, but still, the resemblance is uncanny.
“Yes, Meg I’m your real brother!”
I look at Elliott again and I can’t deny that, although shocked, I am pretty relieved!
Will seems to tap into my thoughts and chuckles slightly.
“Don’t worry, he’s not related to you in any way. The two of you didn’t almost commit incest the other night!”
I can’t hold back and I slap him, hard, across the face. Just like Elliott, he remains rooted to the spot. Joking or not, now is clearly not the time or place to be a smart arse!
“What the hell is going on?” I ask Will, feeling as upset and confused as the day I learnt of Johnny’s death. “Were you the one who rescued me from the car then?”
Will rubs his face gingerly as my red hand imprint emerges on his clean-shaven cheek.
“Yes, yes I was.”
“Why didn’t he just explain?” I point back at Elliott who is still staring at me open mouthed.
“Because he couldn’t!” His soothing tone and coolness is infuriating and only makes me feel more exasperated. I start muttering expletives under my breath.
“I’ll just erm… leave you two to it,” says Elliott quietly, finally breaking his silence. He begins to edge nervously towards the door.
“You stay there!” I snap, pointing a shaky finger at him. “You also owe me an explanation.”
The two men glance guiltily at each other across the room, before Elliott moves to stand next to Will. Both men are roughly the same height and build, and looking at them together now, it’s easy to see how I could have thought it was Elliott who rescued me on the night of the accident.
“Why couldn’t you just tell me, Will?” I repeat, “I don’t understand! I know my dad, understandably, had a past before he and Mum met – it’s no secret!”
“Yes, but he didn’t know he had another son did he?”
“No, that part he certainly doesn’t know about.” I admit. I take in a deep breath and attempt to calm down. It’s not the existence of another brother that’s making me angry, it’s the deceit.
“When did you find out?” I ask. My attention focuses back on Will.
“Find out what – that my dad isn’t who I thought he was? I found out a few weeks before your crash.”
“How?”
“As you know, my dad, Alf, has been very ill.”
“Yes, Will, Elliott… whoever the hell he is … has already told me that!” I catch Elliott’s eye and, although he looks hurt, I couldn’t care less.
“My mum broke down a few weeks ago and told me that the man I thought to be my father, isn’t. She met Alf when she was pregnant with me, and he raised me as his own.”
“So he knows that you aren’t his?”
“Yes, of course, but he doesn’t know that I know! If he did, it would finish him off. He has only been given a few more months to live and I can’t risk him finding out.”
“I see, so, why track me down?”
“Curiosity at first, I suppose. I was in Newcastle on business; that much is true. Mum had told me your dad’s name so I’d done some research online and found out the name of the company you work for. I wanted to see where you live, so I followed you home the night you were involved in the accident.”
“What about Dad and Luke – have you bee
n spying on them too?”
“I haven’t been spying, Megan! It’s not like that, and no, I haven’t seen your dad or brother, well not in the flesh. I’ve just seen their photos on your social media pages.”
“Do you want to meet them too?”
“I don’t know yet – I have a lot of stuff to work out in my own head and I have Alf to think about. Even though he’s not my biological father, he has still been my dad for the past 35 years.”
I nod, and although I’m still fuming, I remain composed.
“And what about you?” I turn my attention to Elliott, who is still standing quietly, like a naughty schoolboy, at Will’s side.
“Will asked me to pretend to be him because he was worried you’d guess the two of you are related! Apparently, he looks a lot like Luke?”
“Yes, he does.” I glance back at Will. The sun is now streaming through the arched windows of the apartment and, as shadows dance across his face masking the age difference, I could easily mistake him for Luke.
“I know I lied about that bit, but, honestly, everything else was real Megan.” Elliott’s eyes search mine, and the feelings return of when he kissed me in the cottage.
I nod back, silently.
“Look, should we go somewhere and talk?” asks Will, “We could maybe grab some lunch somewhere?”
I put a hand to my head, my stomach turning in disgust at the thought of food.
“I need some air,” I announce, feeling suddenly very sick. Both men are at my side in an instant.
“Are you OK?” asks Will. His words seem muffled and distant.
I hear Elliott’s concerned voice. “This is what happened before she blacked out the other night.”
I push them off when they try to take my arms.
“I’m fine!” I say abruptly, as I stumble out of the apartment. Steadying myself against the wall, I head for the front door.
“I really think you need to sit down,” says Will. I ignore him and, shrugging off his firm hold on my arm, Elliott races ahead to open the door. I’m out of the building and have almost made it to the car when I feel myself falling.
Chapter 24
I wake to find I’m lying on the pavement next to my rental car. Elliott has my head on his knee and I can hear Will talking on the phone nearby. He ends the call when he sees I’m awake.
“That was the local doctor.” Will hovers above me awkwardly, “he thinks you should head to his surgery to get checked over.”
“I’m fine!” I sit up and pull my coat around me.
“I really think you should let the doctor take a look at you; you had a nasty fall!” insists Will.
“Oh really, and since when did you earn the right to give a shit?”
Will kicks an empty Coke can, which flies to the opposite side of the road, landing in the gap of a nearby drain cover.
“Suppose I asked for that,” he mutters, under his breath.
“I need to get home,” I say quickly. Standing shakily to my feet, I pick up Elliott’s jacket from the pavement and hand it back to him without making eye contact.
“Thank you,” I say, as graciously as I can manage, before pulling out the car keys from my bag. Elliott snatches the jacket and is clearly annoyed by my stubbornness. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m stubborn. My dad says it’s a trait I inherited from my mum; just like me, she wouldn’t listen when anyone tried to tell her what to do, and she never backed down without a fight. Although I’m stubborn, I’m not a malevolent person, and I’m aware that really I should stay and talk to Will as I need to hear his side of the story. Today, however, there’s just too much to take in, and even though I’ve figured out the truth about Will, the reality of it is now hitting me very hard.
“Please don’t tell me you’re thinking about driving?” questions Will angrily, as I swing open the car door. Again, I pretend to ignore him as I begin to climb into the driver's seat.
“Here Will, take my car back to the office.” I watch as Elliott reaches into his pocket and throws a set of keys across the roof, motioning at a white Range Rover parked opposite the apartment. He then pulls me gently out of the way and jumps into my driver’s seat.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, as he buckles his seatbelt and starts the ignition.
“What does it look like?”
I look at Will, who shrugs his shoulders, then back at Elliott revving the engine, and I begin to wonder if I’ve met my match.
“I guess you have a chaperone then, Megan?” Will says half-smiling, before taking my arm and moving around the front of the car.
“Look after her, El,” he says, guiding me into the passenger’s seat. I’m too shocked to protest and silently do as I’m instructed.
“Will do, mate,” answers Elliott, shifting the car into first gear. Will slams the door as Elliott pulls away.
***
We sit in near silence during the first half of the journey, but it’s me who eventually breaks it.
“You didn’t have to drive me home you know – I would have been fine,” I mutter, sulkily.
“Couldn’t take that risk I’m afraid, Megan.” Elliott gives me a quick glance before settling his eyes back on the road. The sun is beginning to set behind the hills in the distance and, feeling shivery, I reach forward to adjust the car's heating, looking back at Elliott as I do.
“Why do you care so much?” I ask.
“You're my best mate’s sister!” He answers matter-of-factly.
I bury my throbbing head in my hands. “I can’t really believe this is happening.”
“Well, you’d better start believing it because something tells me that Will won’t just forget about you.”
Elliott pauses, checks the mirror and switches on the indicator to join the motorway heading North.
“He’s a good guy, Megan,” he continues.
I nod back because, even though I only spoke to Will briefly, I am now beginning to feel guilty about how I reacted. Deep down, I know that Elliott is right.
I continue to gaze out of the window deep in thought and, as the miles roll by, I think about Luke. How will he feel when he finds out he has an older brother? And my dad?! How on earth will he react when he finds out he has another son? I question why Will’s mother didn’t tell my dad, but presume I’ll never find out. Then, I think about Will again and play out our meeting earlier, which has been on a continuous loop in my mind since we left him back in Morteford. There are so many questions I want answering, but today, I just couldn’t bring myself to ask them.
***
It feels like an eternity to get home and I’m relieved when we are finally pulling onto my street. My head is banging and I feel totally drained after the day’s events.
“It’s left at the end here,” I say to Elliott, pointing to my house at the far end of the small cul-de-sac. I’ve lived in the same house for over 5 years, but never in my life have I been so relieved to see it.
“When does the car have to be back?” asks Elliott, as he pulls up outside my front gates and cuts the engine.
“I’ve got it for another week,” I reply. “The insurance company is still dealing with a payout for mine, with it being written off, so I thought I’d keep hold of this in case I needed to go anywhere.”
“Good idea,” Elliott responds, looking out of the windscreen into the dark countryside beyond. If he’s hoping for a lift, he can sing for it!
“How will you get back to Morteford?” I ask coldly. I'm still struggling with the fact that he lied to me, and even more so, that I fell for it. I’ve always prided myself on my foresight, and I’m disappointed that I didn’t catch on sooner to his and Will’s preposterous idea of switching identities.
Elliott looks at his watch, “I’ll just catch the first flight back in the morning – I know a good hotel in the city centre where Will and I stay whenever we are up here on business.”
I nod and open the car door. “Come in then and I’ll call you a taxi.”
“Thanks!”
Elliott follows me into the house and I waste no time in calling for a taxi to take him to his hotel.
“It’ll be here in 15 minutes,” I say, as Elliott perches on the end of the sofa and glances around.
“Nice house,” he observes. His eyes scan the large living room and finally come to rest on a framed photo on the table near to him. It was taken about a year before Johnny died and we’re holding hands, looking at each other longingly. Elliott realizes I’m watching him and picks up the photo, making no attempt to disguise his curiosity.
“He was a good-looking guy!” he remarks.
I cross the room, take the photo from him and, glancing at it, place it back on the table. It’s obvious to me, now I look at it, that my smile is nothing but a mask to hide the fact that Johnny and I no longer had the same connection that we once shared. Anyone looking at the photo would say that we were a couple in love, with an idyllic marriage and blissful life; exactly what we wanted people to think – it was easier that way. Sometimes a photo can appear perfect because the flaws aren’t instantly visible, until you pause long enough to look more closely.
“Yes, he was,” I whisper.
Elliott takes another look around the room, his eyes darting back and forth as if searching for something.
“You don't have any kids?” he observes and I wonder how he knows. Although I’m aware that Elliott doesn’t have children, we hadn’t discussed whether Johnny and I had started a family – it’s a topic I generally try to avoid. I presume his assumptions are based on the lack of family photos, and the sad absence of children’s toys in my immaculately decorated, and otherwise perfect, marital home.
“No, my husband and I didn’t want kids,” I reply bluntly. In reality, that was only half true. For years I had longed for a family, but Johnny insisted that our lives were far too busy for children. Foolishly I’d accepted that. Looking back, maybe that’s what led to me resenting him in the end; maybe a baby would have saved me, saved us? However, maybe not.