by Tara Bond
It was then that I noticed how fast we were travelling. It was late, so there were few cars on the road, which gave us a clear run. I looked round, trying to get my bearings. We were driving along the Embankment, past Temple Station and coming up to Waterloo Bridge. On the other side of the river, I could see the distinctive OXO Tower, and the Royal Festival Hall.
“Where are we going?” I looked over nervously at Giles, suddenly concerned about his state of mind. Now the secret that he’d been keeping for years was out, what did he have to lose?
“I want to go to my flat.” I remembered then that he lived in some new development by the water near Battersea. I just wondered what he was going to do when we got there. I’d find out soon, that was for sure—we were already driving by Tate Britain.
It was then that I saw it. In the rear-view mirror I spotted a car gaining on us. It was too far away to see exactly, but I was sure it was a silver sports car of some kind.
Alex.
He must have guessed what was going on, and was coming after us. I felt a surge of hope.
I flicked a look over to Giles. Thankfully, he was too caught up in himself to notice the other car.
I decided to try one last time to reason with him. “Giles, please, let me out.”
But he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that, Nina. Not until I make you understand that you can’t say anything about what you know.”
I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t—it would have been the sensible thing to do. But somehow the lie stuck in my throat. I couldn’t betray my father that way—even to save myself.
Giles pressed his foot on the accelerator. The dial on the speedometer flickered up to ninety miles per hour. Ahead, I could see the pretty lights of Chelsea Bridge, and across the river the looming chimneys of Battersea Power Station. We must have been nearly there, but at the speed he was going I wasn’t sure we were going to make it. The car was veering from one side of the road to the other in such an erratic way that I felt a deep fear spread inside my belly.
“Slow down, Giles. Please,” I begged.
As we rounded the corner, I saw a large truck coming for us. It was straddling the middle of the road.
“Watch out!” I cried.
If Giles had been travelling at a normal speed, he could have slowed the car and let the other vehicle pass. But he was going too fast for that. All he could do was try to swerve to the left to avoid a head-on collision. But he must have misjudged the manoeuvre, and instead of pulling back onto the road, the car continued along a diagonal path, cutting straight across the pavement. The low wall that lined the Thames Path should have brought the car to a stop, but the vehicle was going at such a speed that instead we flew straight over it, and towards the dark river below.
In the split second that we sailed through the air, my brain was just about able to process what was about to happen. I clutched at the dashboard, bracing myself for impact, and took a deep breath.
But as the car hit the water, I felt with utter certainty that I was about to die.
Chapter 32
I felt the impact go straight through me, the force rattling my bones.
A moment of relief at still being alive was replaced by a paralysing terror as the full extent of my predicament sunk in. My seat belt had helped hold me in place, so I didn’t get knocked out—along with the way I’d braced myself against the dashboard. But as the airbag deflated, I could feel the car was already starting to sink, engine first. Ice-cold water began to fill the compartment, and I sensed I had seconds to get out.
Something clicked in my brain, and I remembered an article I’d read about a woman escaping her car when it went over a bridge and into a river. There’d been one of those breakout boxes, telling you what to do in the event of you ending up the same way. All the details came rushing back. From what I recalled, the window was my best chance of escape, but the electronics would only work for a couple of minutes in the water. I hit the switch, and undid my seat belt, preparing for escape. I gave a quick glance over at Giles, and he seemed to be copying my actions. I had no time to check, as the car became fully submerged. I took a deep breath and slipped out of the window, using all my strength to push upwards through the ice-cold river.
The inky-black water seemed endless. It was impossible to see, so I had no sense of whether I was going in the right direction. I could feel panic grip me as my lungs began to fill.
And then I saw them—little pinpricks of light shimmering ahead of me. Relief coursed through me, and I began to swim towards them, my arms and legs powering me along as I found a reserve of strength.
Seconds later I broke the surface, gasping for breath.
As I trod water, I looked around for the shore, feeling disorientated in the dark. My body felt heavy in my sodden clothes, and I wondered how I would muster the strength to swim any farther. Then I felt strong arms round my waist.
“I’ve got you.” It was Alex. His lips were warm against my ear. “Don’t panic. You’ll be fine.”
I was too weak to talk. So I relaxed into his hold as he swam with me back to shore.
Arms reached over the side and hauled me upwards and onto the pavement. A crowd had gathered. As someone wrapped me in a blanket, I realised Alex wasn’t with me—he was still in the water.
“Where is he?” Alex called up. I knew immediately who he was talking about.
“He’s still down there. Giles is still in the car. But Alex, don’t! It’s too dangerous—”
But he was already swimming off, back to the middle of the river. All I could do was watch helplessly as he dived back down into the deep.
Passers-by were surrounding me, trying to get me to sit down. But I needed to make sure that Alex was all right. My teeth were chattering as I stood by the edge of the river, watching the dark water. Instead of slowing down now that I was safe, my heartbeat was speeding up. If something happened to Alex, I didn’t know what I’d do. What was taking so long?
“There!” a man called. “There’s someone in the water!”
I looked in the direction he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a figure, but I couldn’t make out who it was. I moved forward, so close to the edge that there were worried murmurs and hands held me back. Then a second later, the swimmer moved into the light, and my whole body relaxed—it was Alex.
He was safe, but alone.
That’s when I passed out.
* * *
The rhythmic sound of a machine woke me up. My eyes fluttered open and I saw that I was in a hospital bed. There was an IV pumping fluids into my left hand. A heart monitor was beeping steadily—which seemed like a good thing.
I must have been in a side ward, because I had the room to myself. I looked round, and saw Alex sitting in the armchair across from me. He got to his feet and moved towards my bed.
“How are you feeling?” He looked concerned, and reached for the call button. “I’ll get someone in here—”
“No.” My voice was weak, and my throat hurt. I guessed they must have pumped my stomach. “We need to talk first.”
I patted my bed, so he would sit down near me. I didn’t want to strain my voice, given that I could barely speak above a whisper.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I said. “About Giles.” That’s what I hadn’t been able to figure out—he would have made his life so much easier if he’d just let everyone know he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“It wasn’t my secret to tell,” he said simply.
I didn’t know what to say or think. I’d said all these awful things to him, and now they’d turned out not to be true. I remembered what my mother had said—that I shouldn’t judge him when I didn’t know the full story.
“Giles was distraught about what happened—even before he realised how bad the accident was. He’d worked so hard for everything he’d achieved. And he thought he was going to lose it all because of one stupid stunt.
“I was just trying to help by saying it was me. Then, wh
en we found out the driver had died—”
“My father had died,” I couldn’t help pointing out.
Alex winced at my clarification. “Yes. That your father had died. It was impossible to go back and change our story.”
“Let me guess,” I said. “Giles refused to confess.”
Alex smiled a little, and then grew serious again. “Our father had done such a good job covering everything up. I was young, and I just went along with it. But as I got older, I regretted ever being a part of it. Someone should have paid for that night, even if it was an accident. But by then it was too late.
“And maybe part of me felt I might as well take the blame. My father seemed so quick to believe the worst of me—that I’d been drunk-driving and left the scene of an accident. I suppose I felt that if he thought so little of me, I might as well be the person he believed I was.”
I saw then that Alex was a lot like me—he’d been abandoned, first by his mother and then by his father, with his continued disappointment in him. The drinking, drugs, one-night stands and illegal gambling . . . It was all because he felt no one cared about him, so why should he care about himself?
We fell into silence, as though Alex sensed there was only so much I could discuss right then.
His hair and clothes were still damp. Moonlight filtered through the hospital window, catching his chiselled jaw.
He cleared his throat. “So what happened tonight? Why didn’t you wait for me like you said you would?”
I shook my head. “Giles came up to me at the hotel. He told me that you’d gone off with Tori to take drugs—”
“And you believed him?” The hurt on Alex’s face took me by surprise. I’d expected him to be annoyed at Giles for lying—but I had a feeling he was more disappointed in me for thinking that it was true.
“I’m sorry.” I wrinkled my forehead. “It just seemed so plausible . . .”
He nodded slowly, but not in a way that reassured me. Somehow this wasn’t turning out to be the reunion I’d hoped for.
I cleared my throat. “So where does this leave us?”
The fact that he didn’t answer straight away worried me.
“Look, Nina,” he said eventually. “I need to think about this for a while. I need some time to process what’s gone on. Giles—my brother—he died tonight—”
I winced. “Oh God.” I buried my head in my hands. “You blame me, don’t you?”
“No,” he said quietly. “Of course I don’t. But I need to be with my father for a while. He hasn’t taken this well—”
“Of course. I understand.”
But still Alex didn’t move.
“There’s more to it, though,” I said. “Isn’t there?”
He sighed. “I wanted us to be together, Nina. I really did. But considering how easily you believed Giles tonight about me going off the rails—do you honestly think that we have any chance of working?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but couldn’t find the words.
He shook his head sadly. “I thought we could be together. I really did. But now—”
He didn’t complete the sentence. He didn’t need to.
“Your mum and sister should be here soon,” he said, getting to his feet. “I only stayed because I didn’t want you to be alone.”
Alex was almost at the door, when I called his name. He turned back, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes.
“I still want this to work between us,” I said.
“I know.” He gave me a rueful smile. “I just don’t know if it can.”
Chapter 33
The next week was frantic. I had to give a statement to the police, explaining the events that had taken place on the Embankment, and how they had led to us plunging into the Thames. The detective in charge of the case said that, as Giles was the driver, and he hadn’t been drinking, it was likely to be ruled a tragic accident.
The first moment that I had alone with my mother, I told her that it was Giles, not Alex, who’d caused the accident that killed Dad. We discussed what to do, but in the end there seemed to be nothing to be gained from revealing the truth. Giles was dead. And it wasn’t as though Alex needed to be exonerated.
As for Alex, I didn’t hear from him. I called and left a message every day, but none of them were returned. It seemed he’d made his mind up about us, and I feared there was nothing I could do to change it.
The following month, it was my father’s birthday. It fell on a Sunday, and I went with my mother and April to lay flowers on his grave. It was our tradition every year.
Afterwards, the three of us had lunch. When April went off to look at the desserts, my mother turned to me.
“You’re not happy.” She nodded down at my plate. I’d scarcely touched my food.
“That’s hardly surprising,” I said, deliberately misinterpreting what she’d said. “We spent the morning at a cemetery.”
She shook her head. “I don’t mean about today.” She waited a beat, and then said, “You still miss Alex, don’t you?”
I studied the table. I didn’t say anything, but I didn’t need to.
Mum sighed. “Sweetheart, let me give you some advice. Making yourself miserable isn’t helping your dad. I wasted years punishing myself. Don’t do the same. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
“Yeah, but . . .” It was hard to put into words. Being with Alex would have made me feel guilty. Somehow it didn’t feel right to be happy when my dad wasn’t around.
“It’s a cliché, but if there’s one thing your dad’s death taught me, it’s that life’s too short.” She reached out and grasped my hands in hers, so hard that it almost hurt. “Don’t waste even a second of it.”
April came back then, ending our discussion. But my mother’s words continued to reverberate in my head for the rest of the day.
* * *
The next day, I went to see Duncan Noble—to set him straight about who had been driving the car that killed my father. I knew Alex would be too proud to tell him, and I thought it was important that he knew what had really happened—that while his youngest son had his faults, he at least hadn’t killed an innocent man.
He agreed to see me early that evening, in his office in Canary Wharf, where I’d met him almost a year earlier. He’d aged exponentially in that time. I no longer looked at him as the man who’d conspired to keep the circumstances of my father’s death a secret—all I could see was a parent broken by the death of his child.
Losing a parent was horrible, a terrible sadness, but at least it was the natural order of life. But losing a partner or a child—that was an unimaginable loss to me. And Duncan Noble had endured both.
I quickly outlined what had really happened the night of my father’s crash. I didn’t want to make things worse—but I felt Duncan Noble needed to know the truth.
He didn’t look as surprised as I’d expected.
“You knew?” I said. “You knew all along that it was Giles?”
“I suspected. I overheard them talking a couple of years ago, put two and two together . . .”
“But why didn’t you say anything?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Do you really hate Alex so much that you were happy for him to take the blame?”
He frowned at me. “Of course not! But so much time had passed, and I couldn’t see the point of opening old wounds. And I don’t hate Alex. I never have. I love him. He’s my son. It’s just that we’re very different people. Giles was an extension of me. I knew exactly how he thought, because it was how I did, too. Alex has always been harder for me to understand. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love him—just as much as I loved Giles.” His brow furrowed, as if he was running through the events of the past in his head. “Maybe I was harder on Alex, but it was because I cared. I didn’t want him screwing up his life, the way his mother had—turning his back on responsibilities. And I think maybe I mistook his partying for being flighty, like she was.” He stopped then, to think the point through. Then hi
s expression cleared, and he gazed directly at me, a softer look on his face. “But then, in recent months, I’ve seen the way he’s changed, and I realise he’s nothing like his mother. He’d do anything for you out of love. He’s not the type to walk away; in fact, he’s one of the most loyal people I know.” He gave a rueful smile. “He’s a fine young man. And so was Giles. He made a mistake, but it was one he always regretted . . .”
“You should tell him that,” I said. “You should tell Alex what you just said to me. He needs to hear that.”
Duncan seemed to think this over for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “He does need to hear that from me. But there’s something else he needs more than that.”
“What’s that?”
“You,” he said simply. “He needs you.”
I shook my head. “He made it plain in the hospital that he didn’t want me. That he didn’t believe it could work.”
“That’s only because he feels that you don’t trust him. He needs someone to believe in him. And I think you do. And if I’m right, then you need to let him know that.”
Did I trust Alex? I thought back to the night of Jas’s wedding, before I’d found out that he’d been covering for Giles. I’d already made my decision then, hadn’t I? I’d already chosen to trust him—to forgive him. And even with what Giles told me, I’d sensed that Alex wouldn’t have slipped back into his old ways.
I got to my feet. “I have to go.”
Duncan smiled a little. I could tell he’d already guessed where.
As I reached the glass doors that led out to the lift, I gave one last look back to Duncan Noble. He was half-turned, so I could only see his profile as he stared out the window. But I could see a look of contentment had settled over his features. He obviously still had a way to go grieving for Giles, but I think it had made him feel a little better to have helped Alex.
Now I just had to make sure his faith in me, and my ability to make Alex happy, hadn’t been misplaced.
* * *
Half an hour later, I got off the Tube at Knightsbridge. I emerged from the station into the cool, crisp air. It was autumn now, and the evenings were drawing in.