by Clare Revell
Chloe took a deep breath. “A hundred thousand, if we stay married for the year. It’s more than I’ll make in several years of teaching, He also said separate rooms, a hands off, pure business relationship. If you like a twenty-first century arranged marriage.”
“So this Leon?” Archie asked. “Were you living with him?”
“No, I was not.” Chloe objected, a rosy hue covering her cheeks. “We were never married. Engaged, yes, but nothing ever happened. He started as my dancing partner.” She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“That’s enough Archie.” Nigel strode across the room, and sat beside. “It’s OK.”
Chloe looked down at her hands. “Leon drank. And when he was drunk, he got careless. He dropped me a few times. I didn’t break my leg in a fall. I broke it when he dropped me during rehearsal. It healed enough to teach, but I can never dance professionally again.”
Mr. Wilkes looked at her. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
Chloe sighed. “And what could you have done? I would have only ruined his career as well. The drink will kill him soon enough. And the contract I signed would have made suing the ballet company impossible.” She smiled slightly. “Hence my distrust of lawyers other than Adam. Besides, I knew how you and Caleb would react.”
“I’d punch his lights out,” her brother muttered.
“Exactly,” Chloe said. “But Nigel isn’t like that. I admit we may have gone into this for the wrong reasons at first, but over the past few weeks, I’ve got to know him. And he is nothing like Leon.”
“I don’t drink for one thing. Not since I met you.”
“No. And you’re not mean either.”
“I’d never hurt you. It’s a name only marriage. That way we can get it annulled.” Nigel looked at Caleb. “So, whilst we’re all sitting here being honest, tell me about the night I was assaulted.”
“No, I didn’t attack you,” Caleb said. “Not that I wasn’t tempted to. I sat in my car outside Chloe’s flat, praying that we could talk things through. All I cared about was Clo and her not getting hurt. I saw you leave and got out of my car to talk to you. Then somebody else appeared, hit you, kicked you, and took your wallet. His build was kind of familiar, but he wore a mask over his face. I gave chase, and when he dropped your wallet, I picked it up intending to give it back. But then the cops picked me up and I still had it.” He shrugged. “I told them what I could.”
“So it was just a simple mugging?” Nigel asked. Relief filled him at the thought of it not being Caleb. He didn’t want any more animosity between the two families than there already was.
Caleb nodded. “Chloe’s right. She can make her own decisions. I may not agree with how she’s gone about this, but have no one to blame but myself for the two of you meeting. So, if this is what she wants then so be it. But if you hurt her in any way…” He left the threat hanging.
“I won’t,” Nigel said.
Her father frowned. “You’re still asking her to give up everything just so you can gain your inheritance. What about her job, her friends, her way of life? Not to mention her faith and church.”
Chloe sighed. “Dad, they do have churches in Bournemouth. And it’s quite appropriate. After all Jesus gave up everything at Easter so we could gain our heavenly inheritance. Nigel’s a friend I have come to care deeply about. If this is a way to help him, then I’ll do it without question or pause.”
Nigel looked at Chloe. He began to notice things about her that he hadn’t before.
Her poise and elegance as she sat. The way she paid attention to what was being said, but never chiming in unless it was important or she felt she could contribute in a meaningful way. She shone with inner beauty. Words from the Song of Solomon filled his mind. You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace. How much better is your love than wine and the fragrance of your perfumes than any spice!
She’d stolen his heart like the verses said. She was the one, he knew that, but he couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t force her into a business arrangement when that was the last thing he wanted. He wasn’t going to pay for her. He wanted her to marry him because she loved him. “I can’t do this.”
The room fell silent.
Archie looked at him. “You what?”
Nigel looked at Chloe. “I can’t marry you. I’ll uphold my end of the contract we signed. You’ll get your fee in a year’s time. I’m not going to have you give up everything because I’m some money grabbing…” He broke off, unable to think of a polite way to describe himself. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“Nigel?”
He pushed upright. “The wedding’s off,” he repeated. He stood still, praying she’d say no. Praying she’d tell him what she’d told Archie earlier, that she loved him.
“But what about your inheritance?”
He shrugged. “The dogs can have it. Dad can have the last laugh. I earn enough to get by.” He gave her another moment, then when she said nothing, he turned on his heel and strode from the room before his resolve broke, the same way his heart had just broken inside him.
15
Day 39
Friday March 23
Nigel had spent the intervening two weeks packing up Thornhill Abbey and finding somewhere to live. It was a small flat, not as nice as Chloe’s, and nowhere near perfect, but it would do. It was just him, and always would be.
Chloe hadn’t replied to any of the numerous texts he’d sent her and the number he had went straight to voice mail. She’d left a hole inside him, but he knew deep down he’d done the right thing. He rang the lawyer and told him to arrange the transfer of the money and ownership of the house ASAP.
The Rent-a-bride site had gone. Not that he’d looked it up to find someone else, he was just curious as to whether Chloe’s profile had still been there. He’d then flicked through the photos on his phone of her, but couldn’t find it in himself to delete them. Was this what a broken heart felt like? A stabbing, aching, longing that nothing could satisfy?
Not even work held its usual appeal. He missed Chloe more than he’d expected. Without her he’d struggled not to fall back into his old ways, but he wasn’t about to admit that to anyone. He knew he’d done the right thing. His prayer life had returned to normal. His soul was lighter than it had been. And his heart, while it sang with the joy of the Lord, mourned and grieved the loss it had suffered. Easter would never be the same again.
Nigel leaned back in his chair, twisting his pen over his fingers.
Toby stuck his head around the door. “We got a call. Come on. I’ll drive.”
Ten minutes later, carrying his silver case and dressed in a white forensic suit, Nigel walked down the field towards the body. The police officer with them filled them in as they walked. Nigel’s heart stopped as he caught sight of the young woman lying face down in the mud. Her long brown hair, slender legs, torn blood stained clothing. For a moment he thought it was Chloe.
He dropped to his knees and gently pushed back the hair. Relief filled him. It wasn’t her. Then guilt flooded him. She would be someone else’s daughter, wife, girlfriend, sister.
“Nigel, are you OK?”
He glanced up at Toby. “I thought…She looked like Chloe from behind, but she isn’t.”
“Ah. How is Chloe? The wedding is this weekend isn’t it?”
“No. We, that is, I called it off. I don’t need the leave after all. In fact I’m happy to take your on-call over the Easter weekend so you can spend it with Nicky and the kids.”
“Are you sure?” Toby knelt and opened his case. “Nicky has this huge egg hunt planned. Chocolate, rabbits and so on. The kids love it.”
“Sounds totally different to my Easter, which is as far from rabbits and chocolate as you can get—although the four day bank holiday is nice. Did you know that Good Friday isn’t a holiday in the US?”
“Really?”
Nigel handed him the empty sample vial. “Yeah.”
“S
o what are you going to do instead of getting married?”
He grinned. “Working. Other than that, church on Good Friday and twice on Easter Day. There’s a church walk and lunch on Good Friday I might go to. With the pager, of course.”
“Are you still going to Scotland tomorrow?”
“Yeah. It’s booked and paid for so may as well. I’m taking the car and coming back on Tuesday, so I’ll be in Wednesday as usual.” He turned his attention to the body. “That’s interesting. See how the lividity is different here? It’s almost as if she were moved after she died.”
Back at the lab, Nigel gave his full attention to the post mortem. They referred to the dead as the silent witness and always treated them with respect, doing their best to provide answers for the grieving families.
Settling behind his desk, he began to type up his notes. His phone lit up and he ignored it. Whoever was calling was persistent. The same number had been trying on and off all week, but he had no intentions of answering. He buried the phone under a pile of files. The only person he wanted to talk to was Chloe, but he’d lost that right the moment he’d called off the wedding.
He couldn’t blame her for leaving without saying goodbye. But arranged marriages were a thing of the past. Brides used to be bought and sold like a piece of jewelry—hence the dowry—for business purposes, but not anymore.
Toby stuck his head around the door. “You have a call in my office. Urgent, apparently.”
“Take a message, please. I need to finish this before I leave.”
“Do I look like your secretary?” Toby complained half-heartedly.
Nigel chuckled. “And a very pretty one too. However I feel inclined to point out that you’re not my type.”
Toby laughed and vanished. Only to reappear a minute or so later. He dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk. “You know that will still be there on Wednesday, right?”
“I know, but her family and the police need the answers now, not in five days’ time. The trail might be cold by then.” He frowned.
“What is it?”
Nigel rummaged through the papers. His phone rang again.
“Maybe you should answer that?”
“Not right now.” He shoved his phone into the desk drawer and closed it. “It says here our Jane Doe was found on farmland, where we were.”
“Yeah. What about it?”
“Well she wasn’t killed there. Look at this. Something I found under her fingernails. It’s wood.”
“Show me.”
He handed his boss the photos. “Highly polished wooden floor boards most likely which would tie in with the other murder last week.”
“You think they’re connected?”
“I want to take another look at that head wound, and compare it.”
“I’ll do it. It’s almost five. You should get home and pack. You can do the follow-up when you get back.”
Nigel’s phone rang again and he rolled his eyes. “I know, but I want to do this. Besides I’m already packed. And if we both do it, then you’ll be home before midnight and neither of us will turn into a pumpkin.”
Toby chuckled. “If I’m home after midnight that will be the least of my worries.”
“Nicky got you on a tight leash?”
“Wouldn’t say that, but there’s a lot of bunny and egg prep I promised to help her with before next weekend.”
16
Day 40
Saturday March 24
Nigel left home just after eight AM. He made Oxford before he realized his phone was still in the drawer at work. Maybe that would be a good thing. Because otherwise he’d be pulling over and calling her and… What? Begging her to take him back?
He shook his head. He wasn’t going to do that. No matter how much he wanted to.
Instead, he pulled off the motorway at the services and freshened up before buying coffee. He sat outside in the sunshine, watching the fountains, sipping the hot liquid. People passed him. It always amazed him how many people there were in these places.
A tall, pretty brunette walked by, and for a moment he thought it was Chloe. He sighed. Would he keep seeing her everywhere?
Coffee finished, he tossed the cup in the trash and walked back to the car. He passed a phone box, surprised they still had them in this age of mobile phones. The need to talk to Chloe—to apologize again—was so great, he shoved some coins into the phone and dialed. There was no answer.
He got back in the car and continued his leisurely drive northwards. He wasn’t in any rush after all. It was gone five before he pulled into the hotel in Gretna Green. He hadn’t cancelled the rooms, or the wedding for that matter. He simply couldn’t find it within him to do that. For some reason it seemed like the ultimate betrayal.
Nigel tugged his overnight bag from the boot and headed inside the building. There was a queue at reception, so he stood in line patiently. As he reached the head of the line, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.
“Welcome to The Radcliffe, Gretna Green,” the receptionist said, flashing perfect white teeth at him. Her tightly pulled back blonde hair and bright red lips were more than a little unnerving.
“Hi. I have a room booked under the name of Turner.” Nigel gave her the email booking forms.
“Yes, sir. Here are your card keys. The rooms are on the third floor and next to each other.”
His heart dropped. Of course, two rooms. One for him and one for Chloe. “I’ll leave the second one here if that’s OK as the other party hasn’t arrived yet. She’ll use my name when she checks in.”
Which she won’t, but I’m not telling them that.
He headed up to his room and tossed the bag to the bed. The window overlooked the park. Sucking in a deep breath, he headed out to find something to eat. He decided to forego the hotel restaurant and walked the few yards into the main town.
Shops were full of Easter decorations. Bunnies and chicks and eggs filled windows. The chocolatier was still open and he slipped inside. He spent a few minutes browsing and admiring the displays and vast choice of handmade chocolate before picking three eggs and paying for them. He’d give Archie his when he got home. And he’d give Chloe hers…
OK, maybe not. He’d leave it on her doorstep.
Finding a small restaurant, he ordered steak and chips along with a glass of house white and sat by the window, people watching. Was this what he’d become? A sad, old, man? Well, not old, but just as alone. He’d only know her a few weeks, but he’d do anything to be with her for the rest of his life. He shook his head. Enough of the self-pity. Move on.
The church on the other side of the road had a huge sign advertising the Easter services. A poster on the edge of the grounds read:
“How much do you love me?”
“This much,” said Jesus as He stretched out His arms and died.
Nigel looked down at his plate. Is this what overwhelming love feels like? That no matter what the other person does, all you want is to be with them? But it’s too late for me. Too late for us.
He looked up as someone sat opposite him. It was the blond man from outside the church at home. “It’s never too late.”
Had he spoken aloud? Had everyone else heard him too? “I’ve lost everything.” Nigel sipped the wine and pulled a face at the bitter taste. He set the glass down and pushed it away.
“How so?” the stranger asked.
“I should have been getting married tomorrow, but I messed up. I tried doing things my way, for all the wrong reasons and—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, I called it off and now I’ve lost my home, my fiancée. All I have left is my faith. Don’t get me wrong, God’s enough. I just wish—”
“—things were different,” the man finished.
Nigel nodded. “See, I know now. I don’t need wealth or houses or stuff. I want, no, I don’t want to be alone. I want Chloe and there is no chance of that now.”
“Pray about it. God loves you. So much so that He sent Hi
s Son to die for you.”
“We celebrate that next week.”
The man rose as the food arrived. “Enjoy your meal.”
Nigel changed the wine for water and ate slowly. Then he headed back to the hotel. He paused outside one of the shops looking at the display. This one was a hill with three crosses on it. OK, there were rabbits and chicks on the hill and a few eggs around the edge of the window, but it was the first Christian display he’d seen.
“Did I ever tell you the story about the hill with three crosses on?”
He jumped and looked up. Chloe’s reflection grinned back at him as he shook his head. Was she really here? Or was he so desperate to see her that he was imagining her? His heart leapt and he wanted to reach out and touch her, hug her, kiss her, but he held back. “No, you didn’t.”
“We were on holiday in France one summer, staying in the ski resort of Le Corbier. Dad always reckons it was a bargain or a typo because it only cost us ninety quid for the two weeks, including travel, and this was years ago. I was fifteen. Anyway, half way up the mountain was another hill. A tall, green one with a single path leading to the summit, and on the top there were three wooden crosses. We’d drive past this twice a day for over a week, anytime we left the resort or came back to it, and Dad really wanted to climb it.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “So, one extremely hot day, we walk down ten hairpin bends to the bottom of this green hill and start climbing it. Finally we get to the top and the views are amazing. But it was pretty awesome in other ways. Really made you think about God and the sacrifice Jesus made for us.
“After a bit, Dad looks around and points. ‘See that path, it goes straight to the flats,’ he says. So we set off after him.”
“And did it?”
Chloe laughed. “Did it, heck. We ended up in a dried up river bed, then in a field some poor French farmer was trying to harvest with a combine harvester. When we finally found the road again, Mum sits down and tells Dad she isn’t going a step further. So he has to go back up the mountain and get the car.”
He finally turned to face her. “I bet you never let him forget it.”