‘No.’ His face turned ugly. ‘Maybe I want to keep it to myself. Maybe I want to have a scoop, write a good story, be a hero. Maybe that’s exactly what I’m doing, Alex, but you’re so wrapped up in yourself and how everything affects you that you can’t see it.’
‘That’s unfair,’ she said quietly.
‘Is it?’
Alex looked at his handsome if tired face, the casual way he had draped himself in her chair. She thought of all the times in the newsroom he had made her laugh. How he had flirted with her and with others, sometimes made a grey day brighter. How she had once – briefly – entertained the idea that they might get together and what fun that would be, and she couldn’t be angry with him. All she wanted now was to be left alone. She couldn’t deal with Heath on his high horse. Particularly when he’d hit a nerve.
‘Go, Heath,’ she said, wearily.
He nodded, and stood. ‘One more thing. I think you should call the police, tell them about the break-in.’
‘There’s not much point, really. Nothing was taken, not that I can think of, anyway. I’d left the front door unlocked as usual.’
‘But—’
‘I’ll think about it.’
He gave her a sad smile. ‘That’ll have to do then. Please believe me that I’m only trying to help, to get to the bottom of this. Roger Fleet, Derek Daley, Willem Major.’
‘And Jen Tamsett,’
‘The girl in the photograph? You found her?’
‘Yes. Google. She’s dead too.’
‘Do you know who took the photograph?’
Alex shook her head. ‘No. Not yet.’
He hesitated. ‘Alex, I think I might have—’
She’d had enough. ‘I don’t want to know, Heath. Go.’
Heath nodded, then pinched the end of his roll-up and put it in his pocket. ‘Take care, Alex, won’t you?’ He drained his brandy glass. ‘Don’t trust anyone. Anyone at all.’
So mysterious. ‘Not even you?’
He gave a brief smile. ‘Not even me. See you around.’
Alex nodded. ‘See you around.’
She sat in the chair, her legs tucked up underneath her. She finished her brandy. She had lied to Heath. Her hunch was that her father had taken that photograph. And she had lied because there had been so many questions Heath had avoided.
26
‘What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?’
The light snapped on, and Alex blinked slowly, her eyes adjusting to the glare. She had been sitting in the living room, not moving, since Heath had left. Not moving because her head was really throbbing now, and she didn’t have the energy to even go and find herself some pills.
Sasha marched over to her chair, and picked the brandy bottle up off the floor. ‘What’s this? It’s practically empty, Alex. What have you been doing?’
Alex opened her eyes wide. ‘Drinking it, I expect.’
‘What’s going on here?’ It was Lin’s voice from the doorway.
‘Where have you been?’ Alex ignored Lin and gazed at the two Sashas in front of her instead, aware her voice sounded belligerent.
‘You’re drunk?’ Her sister raised her eyebrows.
Alex shook her head. Bad mistake. Again. She kept making mistakes though, didn’t she? Fucking everything up.
‘Look, I’ll make some coffee.’ That came from Lin.
‘I reckon we’ll need it,’ said Sasha. ‘Why the booze?’
Alex hung her head, which was woolly and full of muddled thoughts – of her dad, of Willem Major, of Heath, Gus, even bloody Malone.
‘Alex? Alex, what on earth has been happening? What’s that on your shirt? Blood?’
She felt cool hands parting her hair, then a sharp intake of breath. ‘You’ve got a really nasty gash on the back of your head. What have you been doing?’
‘I was … there was …’
‘What?’
She steadied herself. ‘Someone in the house. They hit me. I fell down. Was out of it for a few minutes.’
Two audible gasps. ‘Oh my God, oh my God, are you all right? Do you need to go to hospital?’
Despite the fuddle in her head Alex heard the concern in Sasha’s voice. She tried to clear her mind. She definitely needed that coffee. ‘No, I’m fine. Heath Maitland was here just after it happened. He looked after me. Sort of. We came to the conclusion that I’ll live.’
‘Heath Maitland?’ asked Sasha.
‘Reporter.’
‘The one you’re doing the Broads story with?’
Alex grimaced. ‘Sort of.’
Lin put a cup of coffee in her hand. ‘The guy who wanted you to do all the work and he’d get all the praise.’
‘I don’t want to go into that again, Lin, not now.’
‘I’ll go and get some water and TCP for that cut,’ said Sasha. It looks nasty.’ She disappeared to the kitchen.
Alex gritted her teeth as a wave of pain crashed through her head. The brandy was wearing off.
‘What did you and Sasha get up to tonight?’ Alex wanted to talk to keep her mind off the pain.
‘Here, let me clean that up.’ Her sister appeared with a bowl and some cotton wool and began bathing the gash on the back of Alex’s head. Despite her cool and gentle hands, Alex winced.
‘Sorry,’ said Sasha.
‘No, I’m being a wimp.’
Lin crouched in front of her. ‘Sorry, love. I know Heath Maitland is an off-limits subject, but he’s like a bad penny, turning up just when you don’t need him.’
‘But I did need him this time,’ Alex protested. ‘He helped me. He chased the intruder away.’
‘Did he?’ said Lin. ‘Really? How do you know? Didn’t I hear you say that you were unconscious for a few minutes? So how do you know he “just turned up”? And what was he doing near your house in the first place?’
‘Lin’s got a point,’ said Sasha, wrinkling her brow. ‘Maybe it was him who broke in and then he came back and acted all concerned to put you off the scent?’
‘“Off the scent”?’ Alex wanted to laugh. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Okay,’ said Lin, rubbing Alex’s forearms. ‘Perhaps not. But it does seem a real coincidence that he turns up just in time to rescue you. What was he doing round here anyway? I thought he was back in London.’
‘You have to admit, it does sound a bit odd,’ said Sasha.
Did it? Alex didn’t know any more. And how did Lin know he’d gone back to London? Had she told Lin that?
‘Has anything been taken?’ That was Lin being practical again.
‘No,’ said Alex, to avoid any more questions.
‘So what did they want?’ Lin was nothing if not persistent. ‘I mean, they could have killed you. They must have been looking for something. If it was Heath—’
‘It wasn’t,’ said Alex, but with a little less conviction. She didn’t know what to think.
Lin ignored her. ‘But what was he looking for?’
Alex stilled one of Lin’s hands. ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m okay.’
‘And that’s what matters, that’s all that matters,’ said Sasha, relief on her face. ‘Who would help me redecorate my flat if you weren’t here, eh, Alex? I’ve got boxes of books to go through and everything.’
‘I told you,’ said Lin, ‘I can help you with that.’
‘I know.’ Sasha didn’t take her eyes off Alex. ‘And it’s really kind of you. But—’
‘I want to do it with you,’ said Alex. She looked at Lin. ‘It would draw a line under everything. You know.’
Lin nodded. ‘Of course. I totally understand. Me and my big feet crashing in where they’re not wanted.’
‘No, no, you mustn’t think that. It’s just that, well …’
‘You’re sisters. Family. You pull together.’ Her eyes were misty. ‘I wish I had family like you. That my brother wasn’t—’
Despite her exhaustion, Alex gripped her hand. ‘I know. I’m here for you, though.’
�
��Thank you. Now,’ Lin stood up, ‘I’d better be off. Work to do and all that. Convert some of my photographs into beautiful works of art.’
Alex smiled. ‘I’ll come and see them some time, if I may?’
‘Of course,’ said Lin. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it.’
After she’d gone, the sisters sat in silence for a few minutes.
‘Bastard,’ said Sasha. ‘Whoever broke in. And what for? Nothing. Were they in here?’
‘Yes.’ Alex sat up straight, her mind clear for the first time since being hit on the head. That’s right, she’d heard the sound of drawers being opened and shut quietly. Drawers. Her grandmother’s old desk. ‘Bloody hell, whoever they were, they were rooting about in my desk.’ She got up quickly out of the chair, steadying herself as a wave of nausea made her dizzy.
‘What’s in there?’
‘Old bills. Stuff from my accountant. Some spare cash.’
She opened the top drawer. The documents had been disturbed, she could tell that. She prised the lid off the old mustard tin at the back of the drawer. The money was gone. She slid open the bottom drawer. There was only one folder in it. She looked inside and gave an intake of breath. All the papers, all her memories, were all gone.
‘Alex, what is it?’
‘I don’t understand. Why would anybody—?’
‘What is it? Tell me.’
‘It’s silly, really, but in this folder I had kept things that meant something to me. Mementoes from gigs I’ve been to. Old theatre tickets. Press cuttings of mine. Printouts of a couple of emails. But they’ve all gone.’ She looked at Sasha. ‘Why would anyone want stuff like that?’
‘Beats me.’
Could it have been something to do with Malone, she thought, frowning? It seemed a bit far-fetched, but quite a lot of the stuff in the folder had to do with Malone. She kept bits and pieces from their time together – nothing valuable, only things like menus or guides to art exhibitions. The odd card he had given her. Why would anyone take those? Why take her memories? She would probably never know.
‘Come back and sit down, Lexi, you look really pale.’
Alex did as her sister asked. It was true – she even felt pale, if that was possible.
‘I went to Dad’s college today,’ said Alex into the silence.
‘Really? In Cambridge?’
‘Yes. I spoke to someone who remembered him. Hinted he might have had a fling with a gay man.’
‘Dad?’ Sasha laughed. ‘Not our dad, surely?’
‘I’ve been thinking a lot about the past lately. About how we only see our parents as, well, parents and not as people. We forget they were like us once, young—’
‘Ish,’ said Sasha.
‘Ish,’ conceded Alex, chuckling. ‘And wanting to have their own lives. But we never talk to our parents as friends, do we? Not really.’
‘And would it matter to you if he had been in a relationship like that?’
Alex frowned. ‘No, I don’t think so. If he turned out to be gay, then I think that would be massive. But it sounded if anything like it was a bit of, you know, experimenting.’
‘I never knew which college he went to. Why did you go anyway?’
‘It was St Francis’s College and it’s to do with that story I’m looking into, you know, the deaths on the Broads. I think Dad might be involved somehow.’ There. She’d said it.
‘Dad? Bloody hell, this is getting stranger by the minute. Tell me.’
Alex hesitated.
‘Tell me,’ Sasha said with more urgency. ‘We’ve kept enough from each other over the years. I’ve given you a tough time; even now I’m out of hospital I haven’t been fair on you. Staying out. Not telling you where I was. What I was doing. Look, a lot of what I’ve been doing is thinking. Sitting up near the harbour, chatting to the fishermen and thinking. I’ve never done so much bloody thinking in my life.’ She gave a brittle laugh. ‘But I know that in order to get on with my life I’ve got to take back control.’
‘Now there’s a familiar phrase.’ Alex smiled wryly.
It was wonderful to see Sasha grin. ‘Yes, true. But I mean it, Alex. I want to be a better sister to you,’ she said. ‘And seeing you like this it’s, well, it’s heartbreaking. I could have lost you if whoever attacked you had a knife or something.’
Did her vulnerable sister mean it? Could she really have come through the traumas of the last few years?
There was a more confident air around Sasha – something she, Alex, wasn’t used to seeing and couldn’t remember ever seeing before. And how badly she wanted to share things with her. Have Sasha be her equal instead of always having to shield her from things. She might as well start now.
And so Alex told Sasha about the photograph at Margaret Winwood’s house, about talking to her father, how Roger Fleet, Derek Daley, Jen Tamsett and Willem Major and their father were all friends at Cambridge. She told her that she thought Heath was hiding something, but she couldn’t work out what and finally she told her sister how she thought it was all connected by something in the past, but again she didn’t know what, except she thought her father was involved and now suspected he could have been the one behind the camera.
‘Look,’ said Sasha, frowning, ‘this stuff about the past and the present being connected somehow. I mean, that must be one of the first things to sort out? Once that’s done, it might all fall into place?’
Alex nodded. ‘Probably. I’ve got Willem Major’s address and I plan to go tomorrow. But what about Dad? I’m worried about him, Sasha.’
‘Maybe he’s not involved at all. After all, you can’t be sure he took that picture.’
‘Not sure, no.’
‘But your gut journalistic instinct tells you there’s no smoke without fire? God, I hate clichés, but there you are. You’re a good journalist, Alex, I know it. I trust your judgement.’ She paused. ‘I could go and stay with them. I’ll ring Mum first thing and suggest it. That way you won’t have to worry.’
Alex shook her head, smiling. ‘Sasha, where have you been hiding?’
‘Leacher’s House,’ she said, eyebrows raised. ‘Seriously, though, Lexi, I know I can be shitty and contrary—’
‘And obstinate and mercurial.’
‘All of that. But underneath it all I do love you. And I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through over the years. I know sorry’s not adequate—’
‘It is.’ Alex reached out and linked her fingers with Sasha’s.
‘Do you ever feel lonely, Lexi?’
‘Yes. Especially now Gus—’
‘Has got his own life?’
Alex punched her sister playfully on an arm. ‘Stop reading my mind, you.’
Sasha laughed.
‘It’s good to be back,’ she said.
‘Good to have you back,’ replied Alex, meaning it.
They sat in a comfortable silence, and Alex felt her headache easing. ‘So, tell me, what did you get up to with Lin today?’
‘Lin?’
‘Yes. You left a note saying you were with friends. I presumed when you came in with her that you and she had been together. I know you get on. I don’t mind, you know. She’s a nice woman.’
‘I know she’s nice, but she’s your friend. I hardly know her really.’
‘Oh. I got the impression – guess I was wrong. Though she does always seem to turn up at crucial times, doesn’t she?’
‘What are you saying, Alex?’
Alex closed her eyes, exhausted. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m saying.’
But the thought kept going round and round in her head: Malone had told her to trust no one.
27
Another beautiful day, thought Alex, as she gazed out of the window, the remnants of yesterday’s events still behind her eyes in the form of a headache.
She loved late May – the promise of spring beginning to bear fruit in the early summer. If she looked hard enough she could just about see blades of grass push
ing through the soil. At least, she might have done if she’d bothered to buy any seed and spread it on the earth. Still, she had some bedding plants in pots ready to go out. This year she would be more careful and wait until she was certain there would be no more frost. She didn’t want to have to buy two lots of plants again.
Who had knocked her out? They could have killed her. A sobering thought. And she couldn’t believe it was Heath. Why not, though? Was she letting sentiment get in the way? The whole episode had made her feel uneasy, not safe in her own home. As she had gone to the shop down the road to replenish the milk and bread stocks she’d felt as though someone was watching her. She’d sensed it a few times lately. A figure seen out of the corner of her eye, a shadow behind her. Was this what Malone was warning her about?
At least one good thing had come out of it all so far – a new and comfortable relationship with Sasha. She smiled as she thought about her sister ringing their mum early this morning and not taking no for an answer. She was going to stay at their house for a couple of nights, whether they liked it or not. Alex would bet their mother was thrilled. And it gave her peace of mind.
Opening up a file on her computer, she flexed her fingers. Today was the day when she would begin to map out the backgrounder on the deaths on the Broads. She would sketch out some ideas, try to come up with an opener, then she was going to track down Willem Major.
She began to write down what she knew. Roger Fleet. Left the priesthood, lost his faith. Lived on a smallholding in Suffolk. Found his faith again. Told sister he was doing it for her. What? Killing himself for her? Derek Daley. He was doing it too. Killing himself for who? For his family? Was going to be outed as a paedophile. Blackmail? She underlined the word three times. Jen Tamsett. Killed by a speeding driver. No family. No one to miss her. Willem Major. His family decimated in a fire, him in hiding. Sold his business, opted out of the world. Her father. Where did Anthony Devlin fit in? Had he some sort of past relationship with Willem Major? Was it important? Could she accept her parents had a life before her and Sasha – and what business was it of hers anyway? Did any of this have anything to do with all these deaths?
She heard a dog barking in the distance, someone shouting. Hooves on the tarmac as the horse-drawn dray took barrels of local beer to the town’s pubs.
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