by Roberta Kray
Sadie put her elbows on the table, lifted a hand and chewed on a knuckle. She instantly guessed that it was Mona, but couldn’t say it out loud. ‘My God, why would anyone do that?’
‘Don’t worry about it. Some people… they’re just… they’ve got nothing better to do. Nobody believes it, not for a minute.’
Sadie jumped up, went over to the sink and poured a glass of water. She took a sip and then, with her back still to him, asked, ‘What else did it say? The letter?’
‘Nothing much.’
She turned to look at him again. ‘What’s nothing much?’
Joel pulled a face. ‘Some jibes about how you couldn’t be trusted, that you were using me, that all you care about is money – or, to be more precise, my parents’ money.’
Sadie shook her head. ‘So now I’m a murderer and a gold digger. Was there anything else?’
‘That was pretty much it, I think. Look, I know it’s cruel and nasty, but you just have to put it out of your mind.’
But that was one thing Sadie couldn’t do. Mona wasn’t going to stop until she got what she wanted. ‘Are they going to take it to the police? Did your mum say?’
‘I don’t think so. Do you think they should?’
Sadie gave a shrug, wondering how careful Mona had been. There would be a postmark on the letter, maybe even fingerprints. What if they managed to trace it back? She shivered at the thought, aware of how unstable the girl was. A rush of panic made her hands shake and she quickly put down the glass on the side of the sink. ‘I suppose it would be a waste of time. I doubt if they could find out who sent it, could they?’
‘I shouldn’t think they’d even try.’
‘No,’ Sadie said, hoping he was right.
Joel stared at her, his eyes full of concern. ‘Are you okay? I feel really bad about… I mean, you’ve got enough to deal with without this as well. I wasn’t sure if —’
‘It’s not a problem,’ she lied, attempting to keep her voice steady. ‘Like I said, I’d rather know.’
‘At least we can get away from it all tomorrow.’
‘Huh?’
‘The Lake District,’ he said. ‘You hadn’t forgotten, had you?’
Sadie had forgotten. It had gone clean out of her head. Every year, before Christmas, Joel’s parents rented a large rambling house in Grasmere for a week. During that time friends and relatives came and went and the house was always full to overflowing. Although she’d enjoyed it in the past, this December the thought of all that socialising, all that endless smiling and chatting, filled her with dread. ‘I was wondering… would you mind if I gave it a miss? After everything… I just fancy a quiet weekend.’
Joel looked disappointed, but gave a nod. ‘Yeah, I understand. If that’s what you want. It’s been a tough few weeks. I’m sure they’ll be fine about it. We can just stay here and take it easy; maybe we could catch a film or go for a meal.’
‘No, you should still go. I want you to. Your mum and dad will be really disappointed if you pull out now.’
‘I can’t leave you here on your own.’
‘Why not? I’ll be fine, honestly I will.’ Suddenly the prospect of solitude, of having time to think, filled her with a wondrous sense of relief. She wouldn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or letting something slip. Just for a while, she’d be able to breathe and maybe get her head in order.
‘It’s not because of the letter, is it? Because if it is —’
‘It isn’t,’ she insisted. ‘I promise.’ Although that wasn’t strictly true. The subject was bound to come up at some point and she couldn’t bear the strain of lying. She’d be under scrutiny at the Grasmere house and that was the last thing she wanted. ‘I might go and see Mum on Sunday. She’s been worried, you know, after all this stuff with Eddie.’
Joel sat back and folded his arms his arms across his chest. ‘Are you sure you won’t come? It won’t be the same without you.’
‘I just feel… I feel really tired, exhausted, like I want to sleep for a year. I wouldn’t be good company. You’ll apologise for me, won’t you?’
Joel opened his mouth as if he was going to try and persuade her to change her mind, but then almost immediately closed it again. Perhaps he realised that the decision had been made and that it was pointless to argue. He left a pause and then said, ‘Everything’s all right, though, isn’t it? I mean, between us?’
‘Of course,’ Sadie said, a bit too brightly. ‘That’s not why I don’t want to come. It’s not that at all.’ All her instincts told her to lean across the table, put her hand over his and make some physical contact, but instead she looked away. Somehow, when it came to it, she just couldn’t give him the reassurance he needed.
44
Sadie felt a twinge of regret as she waved Joel off the following morning. She’d had a restless night full of strange disturbing dreams in which she was constantly trying to find her way home but never succeeded in getting there. Wisps of those dreams still lingered as she stood on the doorstep and watched him leave.
Over breakfast she had come close to changing her mind – perhaps it would be good to get away, to try and forget about things for a while – but she knew it was hopeless. She had gazed at his face and her stomach had twisted. How could she go on deceiving him? Eventually the truth would come out and he would see her in a different light. He would find out that she’d shot a man, that she’d known who murdered Eddie, that she’d lied to him and to the police. How would he reconcile this Sadie with the one he thought he loved?
‘I’ll call you,’ he’d said.
‘Have a good time. Give my best to everyone.’
Sadie went back upstairs and sat at the table for a while. Then she picked up her bag, went through to the kitchen, took out the latest letters from Mona Farrell and burned them in the sink.
Once she had cleared away the ashes, Sadie put on her coat. Despite the cold, she walked down to the front, hoping that the sea air would clear her head. She braced herself against the wind as she strode along the promenade. It was the doing nothing that was getting to her. She felt helpless, out of control, as if she was simply waiting for things to happen.
There was a red phone box next to the boating pond and she was tempted to step inside and call Nathan Stone. Had the police talked to him? What had they said? Had he got rid of the gun? What was going on with the Gissings? There were so many questions and only one way of finding out the answers. But she knew he wouldn’t be at the bar – it was far too early – and she had no other way of contacting him.
For a while she stood by the pond and watched the wind whip across the surface, rippling the water. There were no kids playing here today. There were no boats bobbing about, no tiny yachts with graceful white sails. The bad weather was keeping almost everyone indoors.
Sadie glanced over at the phone box again, but knew it was pointless. Even if she did manage to reach him, he wouldn’t tell her anything. I’m not talking about this over the phone. Wasn’t that what he’d said last time she’d called? No, he’d be tight-lipped about it all, wary in case the police were listening in. She sucked in a breath. She didn’t want to think about Inspector Gerald Frayne and his cool, suspicious eyes.
It was only when the cold started seeping into her bones that she began walking again. She went past the swimming baths with their wafting chlorine smell and then the arcades with their flashing lights and music until she reached the end of the promenade. Here she turned and headed for home. The rain started on her way back and by the time she reached the flat she was drenched. She went upstairs, ran a bath and stripped off her clothes.
While she lay in the hot water, Sadie reviewed her options. When it came down to it there were only two: either she went to the police and came clean about everything, or she kept her mouth shut and waited to see what would happen. Except in her heart she already knew what would happen: at some point the truth would come out and her world would fall apart.
Sadie was still
racking her brains for smarter ways to address the situation when the doorbell rang. She closed her eyes and sank down under the water. Whoever it was would have to come back another time. It rang again and again, but she continued to ignore it. What if it was the police? She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t. Please God. She wasn’t ready for them yet. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready.
Half an hour later, Sadie got out of the bath, dried herself off and pulled on her dressing gown. She opened the door to the flat, went out on to the landing and peered down the two flights of stairs into the hallway. A white envelope was lying on the floor and she wondered if it had been the postman who’d rung the bell.
Sadie padded downstairs in her bare feet and picked up the letter. The minute she saw the handwriting on the front, the breath caught in her throat. She’d know that scrawl anywhere. Mona Farrell. What made it worse was that there wasn’t a stamp – it had been hand-delivered. Quickly, with her heart thumping, she tore open the envelope and read the contents:
Dear Sadie,
Meet me tonight at the fairground by the Big Wheel at eight o’clock. If you don’t come, you’ll be sorry. I won’t keep quiet – you know I won’t. Come on your own and don’t bring Joel. Please come. I need to see you.
Your dear friend,
Mona
Sadie stood for a long time staring down at the note. Her hands shook as she read and re-read it. She didn’t have to go. But Mona would come round again if she didn’t show up. Well, so what? She could turn off all the lights, pretend she wasn’t in – but she couldn’t hide for ever. The girl would keep trying until she got what she wanted. No, it was time to stop running, to turn and face things head on. It was time to take back some control.
45
Mona gazed into the mirror as she carefully styled her hair, gelling it up into short neat spikes. After the disappointment of finding that Sadie was out, she had spent the day exploring Haverlea. In truth, she didn’t think much of it. It seemed a slow, sleepy sort of town, although that was maybe due to the time of year. The place was one of those touristy seaside spots, busy in summer but dead in winter. Hopefully, it would perk up a bit at night.
If the town was dull, the hotel wasn’t any better. The only other guests were virtually geriatric, old women with tight blue-rinsed perms and disapproving faces. She gave a shudder and reached for the red pill on the dressing table. Quickly she popped it in her mouth and washed it down with a gulp of vodka.
Sometimes it was hard not to get angry at Sadie; she was forever saying one thing and then doing another. In Hampstead, Mona had checked the post every day waiting to hear from her, waiting for a single reply to any of the letters she’d sent. And then there were all the phone calls she’d made. Well, no one likes being ignored, do they? In the end she’d had no choice but to write to the Hunters. She hadn’t wanted to do it, but Sadie needed reminding of the promise she’d made. It had been the only way, the last resort.
Mona put on some lipstick and sat back to view the effect in the mirror. She inclined her head and smiled at her reflection. Even though Sadie drove her mad at times, she wouldn’t be without her. And everyone had their faults. The trouble with Sadie was that she was too kind, too forgiving. Take Eddie, for example. Why should a man like that be allowed to get away with what he’d done? She recalled the way he’d looked at her when he’d opened the door to his flat, the quick appraising glance that had raked her body from head to toe.
‘Yeah?’
‘Are you Eddie?’ she’d asked, smiling sweetly. ‘Eddie Wise?’
‘What’s it about?’
‘My name’s Anne Faulkner. I’m here about your wife, Sadie.’
‘Oh, you’ve just missed her.’
‘I know,’ she’d said. ‘It’s you I want to talk to. Could we do this inside? It won’t take long.’
And just like that, he’d stood back and let her in, even taken her through to the kitchen and offered her a coffee. She wondered what he’d been thinking about in the last few minutes of his life. Nothing much, she imagined, and certainly nothing of importance. Men like Eddie Wise only ever thought about themselves.
Mona had no regrets about what she’d done. His worthless, pitiful existence had been snuffed out in a matter of seconds. What had she felt as she’d slid the knife between his ribs? Very little. It had been an act of mercy, like putting down a rabid dog. When she looked back, which wasn’t often, the whole event had a slightly surreal quality to it, sharp in places, misty in others. Anyway, she had simply done what she had to do and now Sadie was free of him for ever.
As the effects of the pill kicked in, Mona’s mood started to lift. She glanced at her watch. Soon it would be time to go. She felt the same stirring excitement as a child would feel as she anticipated not just the lights and the rides, but the joy of sharing those things with a friend. It would be good to see Sadie again. This evening she would make her see sense and persuade her to go through with her side of the bargain.
‘It’s only right,’ she whispered. ‘It’s only fair.’
Yes, it was time for Sadie to face up to her responsibilities. Paul Farrell, like Eddie, had to be swept from the face of the earth. Mona jumped up, eager to be off. Tonight was going to be a good night, a great night, a night to remember.
46
Peter Royston had got the message at eleven o’clock the previous evening. He had come back from the pub, somewhat the worse for wear, to find the red light blinking on his answering machine. Swaying slightly, he’d jabbed at the button and waited to see if anyone would start speaking. More often than not, all he got was a long pause and then the click of a phone going down. People didn’t like talking to machines. But on this occasion, the caller went ahead.
‘Er… Mr Royston? This is Derek, Derek Pugh. I just thought you might want to know that the Farrell girl booked in again today. She’s here for two nights. So… er… yeah, that’s it really.’ There was a short silence. ‘You’ll call by some time, huh? Like we discussed. Yeah, okay.’
Royston grinned as he sat across the road from the Bold and replayed the message in his head. This could be just the break he needed. In the two weeks that had passed since he’d dropped in at the hotel he’d been doing extensive digging on Mona Farrell and what he’d discovered made for interesting reading.
The girl was the daughter of a leading industrialist, an arms manufacturer called Paul Farrell. She was twenty-three, an only child, and still lived with her parents in Hampstead. That wasn’t the fascinating bit, though. No, what had really triggered his interest was Mona’s history: she’d been expelled from numerous schools, been arrested during a couple of political demonstrations and was generally the subject of untold rumour and gossip.
The latter had come from Royston’s contacts in London, other reporters who had heard stories and were willing to share them. The best of these was that a blaze at the family home was thought to have been deliberately started by her. The affair had been hushed up by her influential father, and Mona was still receiving psychiatric treatment.
For all his research, Royston hadn’t been able to establish a firm connection between Sadie Wise and Mona Farrell. They obviously knew each other – that much had been established at Emily Hunter’s party – but where they had met and why Sadie was so jumpy in her company remained a mystery. He recalled the look on her face as she’d dragged the other girl away from him. On the surface the two of them seemed to have little in common, but that was what made it all the more intriguing.
When he’d first heard about Mona’s return, Royston’s intention had been to come here and confront her, to talk to her, to maybe try and back her into a corner about why she was using a false name – from his digging there was no indication that she’d ever been referred to as Anne – but then he’d decided on a different tack. Instead, he’d opted to wait for her to emerge from the hotel, knowing that at some point she was bound to get in touch with Sadie. He wanted to see them together one more time befor
e he made up his mind about what to do next.