by Roberta Kray
For a moment she hovered by the entrance.
She waited. Nothing happened.
Wrapping her fingers securely round her keys, she started walking. Her car was parked fifty yards away, adjacent to the chip shop. The one advantage of owning a wreck was that no one ever thought about nicking it. She’d had the same shabby black Honda for the past five years. Dented, scratched and bruised, it wasn’t the prettiest vehicle she had ever owned but it was certainly the most crime-proof.
It was only when she got in and locked the door that she realized she’d been holding her breath. She released it in one fast and grateful exhalation.
As she was driving out of the city she thought about what she would say to Lesley. Surely one visit to see Terry wasn’t too much to ask? But Eve knew she’d have some persuading to do, even some grovelling, just to get her to consider it.
She wound down the window as the traffic ground to a halt. The sudden appearance of the sun had brought the day trippers out, apparently all with the same intention of heading towards the coast. She glanced in her mirror; there was already a long queue behind her.
Still, she wasn’t in a hurry. It gave her extra time to come up with a brilliant strategy.
She racked her brains but nothing rose to the surface. They had never got on, never would. Not that that was very surprising. Few thirteen-year-old girls would celebrate their father getting hitched to a flighty twenty-oneyear-old – even, or perhaps especially, one who was carrying his baby. And no young bride longs to share house space with a jealous adolescent witch. They had battled for Alexander Weston’s affections with all the subtlety of a pair of feral cats; if they could have scratched each other’s eyes out, they would.
She tapped her fingers against the wheel and sighed, hoping that this meeting wasn’t going to descend into one of their old familiar rows. It was up to her to make sure it didn’t, to bite her tongue, to at least attempt to act grown up.
She had to stay focused. She had to think of Terry.
Eve smiled. God, how she’d resented him when he was born. No, more than resented – she had loathed him with a vengeance. He hadn’t even had the grace to be ugly. Just to rub her nose in it, he’d emerged into the world the perfect image of angelic fair-haired sweetness, a gurgling rosy cherub with a smile for everyone. But he hadn’t won her over. He might have been heavenly, small and defenceless, but she hadn’t been charmed. At the time there was no getting over the fact that if it wasn’t for him and his upstart mother she would still have her father’s full attention.
The lights switched to green and the traffic shifted again. As Eve eased the car forward she shook her head. It was hard to imagine just how much bitterness she had felt. Although she had never wished Terry any terminal harm, she had exerted a great deal of effort into imagining ways of mislaying him: leaving his pram in the park when she took him for a walk, accidentally leaving the door open as he learned to crawl, taking an ad out in the paper to secretly put him up for adoption …
It was ironic really. Once she’d been obsessed with losing him, now she was preoccupied by keeping him safe. She knew precisely when it had changed: as she was nudging fifteen, when he was almost two, at the exact point she’d realized Lesley didn’t actually have much interest in him. That had been enough to turn the tide. Out of pure contrariness, perhaps even out of spite, she had finally chosen to pay her half-brother some attention.
Was that shameful?
Perhaps it was. But it didn’t alter the fact that she had ended up doting on the little brat.
Fifteen minutes later Eve was on the main road, beginning to hit a respectable speed, when her phone started ringing. She picked it up. ‘Hello.’
‘Hi.’
Damn! It was Jack Raynor. ‘Hang on a sec.’ Had it been anyone else she would have carried on talking but, as if his profession provided him with an unerring instinct for law-breaking, she pulled off the road and drew up into a rough track by a field.
‘Sorry,’ she said, once she was stationary. ‘I’m in the car. How are you?’
‘Pretty good, thanks. You heading anywhere nice?’
She hesitated. Over the years, she had got in the habit of evading the truth. There was no reason why she shouldn’t tell him that she was going to see Terry’s mother … but she didn’t. ‘Just up to the coast. I’m meeting a friend.’
‘Lucky you,’ he said. ‘I’m stuck in the office for the next eight hours.’
‘I’ll try not to gloat.’
His soft laugh echoed down the line. ‘I can sense you’re already losing that battle. I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed last night. Thanks for keeping me company.’
‘Thank you for dinner.’
Then it was his turn to hesitate. ‘Er … I was wondering if you’d like to do it again sometime? During the week maybe?’
She grinned and looked out of the window. ‘Are you asking me on a date, Inspector?’
He paused. ‘Before I respond to that question, I’m afraid I’ll need to know if your answer’s likely to be yes or no.’
‘Spoken like a true man of courage.’
Raynor laughed again. ‘Shall I take that as a yes?’
He had one of those sensuous voices, melodious but with just the right hint of gravel. Perhaps, in the circumstances, it wouldn’t do any harm to keep him close – but she didn’t want him thinking she was a pushover. A girl had her reputation to consider. ‘I’ll let you know. Give me a call on Monday.’
‘I’ll do that,’ he said.
There was a short silence before they both hung up.
Eve put down the phone and gazed out across the field. The bright yellow crop swayed a little in the breeze. Above it the sky was a pure cobalt blue. It was the kind of scene a child might have painted, so innocent, so pure and simplistic that it seemed to verge on the imaginary.
She sighed. The view might be enchanting but there was nothing innocent about the thoughts that were racing through her head. If she agreed to meet him again would that be a wise move or a dumb one? From a purely practical point of view it had its advantages – potential enemies, as her father had always insisted, were best kept within punching distance – but she could sense a complication looming. Jack Raynor was attractive. Very attractive. He was smart, witty and dangerously seductive. And he was also a cop.
Not a great combination.
Still, that was no excuse for turning him down. In her life she may have been guilty of a number of crimes but failing to rise to a challenge had never been one of them.
She switched on the indicator and tried to edge back out on to the main road. The traffic was solid and it took a few minutes before a gap appeared. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she put her foot down and accelerated out. She glanced in the rearview mirror. It was then that she noticed it – another car, twenty yards back, suddenly drawing away from the verge, skidding out with the minimum of care. The driver either had a death wish or …
She squinted into the mirror.
Was he following her? No, it was just coincidence. But that didn’t explain the weird prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She tried to peer around the vehicles between them. The car was dark blue, old, a Ford. The driver was male but that was all she could establish.
By the time she reached the Cromer road, he was still behind. She deliberately slowed, letting the two cars between them overtake. But then, just as she was hoping to get a good look, he slowed down too. The gap between them was instantly filled. A white van skipped smartly into the space and her view was blocked.
Okay, there was only one thing for it. A supermarket was looming to her left. Without warning, without indicating, she waited until the last possible moment before veering sharply into the entrance. She left in her wake a gust of black exhaust and the audible sound of Mr White Van’s disapproval. But at least it proved her point. Seconds later the manoeuvre was repeated by an old blue Ford. Damn! What was she going to do now?
While she thought abou
t it, she embarked on a slow cruise round the car park. It was Saturday morning and the place was jam-packed. She tried not to stare too hard or too often in her mirror. Although he was keeping his distance, she could see him clearly now, a thin middleaged sandy-haired man. She frowned. There was something vaguely familiar about him but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
A cop maybe? But surely Raynor wouldn’t have rung if she was being tailed. It was his phone call, forcing her to stop, that had alerted her in the first place. Eve was almost tempted to stop the car, to get out and confront him – only after what had happened yesterday it hardly seemed the wisest move. It was all very well facing your demons but it was probably best to know just what kind of demons they were first.
Instead she began to gradually edge towards the exit, briefly glancing to her left and right as if searching for a space. Unless they were going to play cat and mouse for the rest of the day, she had to find a way to lose him.
Oddly, she didn’t feel afraid. At least not the sort of cold frantic fear she had felt in the alley. Perhaps it was to do with being in the car, with being protected, or maybe it was the old adrenalin kicking in. Getting out of tight corners had been a speciality of her father’s. She’d been trained by a master.
An opportunity for escape arose a moment later. Forced to keep a reasonable distance, her shadow found himself impeded by an elderly couple with a trolley. As they meandered, oblivious, across his path, Eve promptly put her foot down and hit the exit with as much speed as she dared.
Recklessly setting back the cause for all female drivers, she rejoined the main road to a chorus of angry horns and screeching brakes. Curses echoed through the mild spring air. She tried not to take it to heart. A girl had to do what a girl had to do. Disapproval she could live with, uninvited company she couldn’t.
As soon as she’d cleared the town she turned off, winding randomly along a series of thin country roads. Over the next fifteen minutes she completed a scenic tour of all the local villages and hamlets. Had she been less distracted she might have taken some pleasure from the scenery, the houses, even from the distant churches that appeared with almost alarming frequency. Her father had loved old churches. She smiled. He had dragged her along more chilly naves than she cared to remember.
When Eve was certain she had lost her pursuer – she was certainly lost herself – she found a place to pull up and reached over to the glove compartment for the map.
She opened it on her knee, sat back, and lit a cigarette. She felt a small warm glow of satisfaction. So she hadn’t entirely lost the art of avoidance! Unless he had a tracking device attached to the underside of her car, he would never find her here. He’d continue driving along the main road until he realized she was gone.
But her sense of satisfaction was short-lived. What was she thinking? She might have temporarily shaken him off but he knew where she’d be tonight. Her problem had only been postponed, not cancelled. Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so smug.
She was still in trouble, big trouble.
But she could only deal with one crisis at a time. With a sigh she bent her head over the map and traced out the best route to Blakeney.
It was approaching ten thirty by the time she arrived. As she crawled through the narrow congested streets, past the pretty brick and flint cottages, she found herself relieved that she hadn’t spotted the man here. Unless she’d been prepared to plough down fifty innocent pedestrians, she wouldn’t have stood a chance of evading him.
Pausing briefly by the front, she glanced out across the marshes. The briny smell of the sea wafted through the open window. A few kids were already sitting on the quay, their short legs dangling over the edge. Surrounded by all the paraphernalia of childhood, plastic buckets, fishing nets, discarded jumpers, they seemed suspended in a world of their own. Eve felt a sudden pang of envy. What she wouldn’t give to change places for an hour or two …
Reluctantly, she glanced back down at her map.
She followed the road for another half-mile before negotiating her way through a series of much quieter side streets. The house, when she eventually found it, came as a shock. Sliding into the long smooth drive, Eve caught her breath. She’d expected something decent but nothing quite this grand. The building looked old, Georgian, very white, very large, and stunningly beautiful. A house to drool over, a house that must have cost a fortune …
Lesley had clearly used her charms to full advantage.
Passing under an arch of scarlet rhododendrons, Eve drew up and parked beside a brand-new Mercedes. She could almost hear its growl of disapproval. There was probably a servants’ car park round the back.
She got out and looked around. Had her arrival been noted? She sensed that it had – although it wasn’t possible, unless she acquired the ability to look at twelve windows simultaneously, to even tell if the curtains were twitching.
She went to the door and rang the bell.
There was no reply.
She pressed it again. The fancy car, she was sure, belonged to a woman. No heterosexual man would ever willingly drive a pink Mercedes. Which meant, as Lesley never walked any further than the bathroom, that she couldn’t be too far away. All it would take was a little persistence …
She leaned on the bell again.
After a further few seconds Lesley swung open the door and glared at her. ‘What are you doing here?’
Eve forced herself to smile. ‘Hi! How are you?’
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked again.
‘Look, it’s about Terry. I thought—’
‘I don’t care what you thought,’ she snapped. ‘I’m busy. I’m sorry but I don’t have time for this.’
‘Please. Just a minute, just—’
‘I’ve told you, I’m busy.’
As she went to slam the door Eve smartly inserted her foot in the gap. It was the kind of move she’d seen a thousand times on television but those guys were never wearing flimsy sandals. Like a ton of lead, the door crunched against her naked toes. With a cry, she fell to her knees. Red-hot pain travelled first-class return to her brain and back.
Lesley, perhaps more worried about what the neighbours might think than out of any real concern, crouched down beside her. ‘God, sorry, I didn’t mean to …’
Doubled up on the doorstep, Eve clutched at her foot and groaned.
‘Are you okay?’
She wasn’t okay. How could she be? Her left arm was still aching from yesterday’s attack and now she had a battered right foot to match. Not to mention the lump on her forehead. Suddenly it seemed like everyone was intent on causing her damage. Perhaps she should just lie down on a railway track and save them all the bother.
‘It’s not broken, is it?’
Christ, she hoped not. She released her grip and gazed down. There was some blood, a thin red trickle from a broken nail, and the skin was a nasty shade of mauve, but she could still wriggle her toes. ‘I don’t think so.’
Lesley put a hand around her waist and helped her up. ‘You’d better come inside.’
‘Thanks.’
They didn’t hold on to each other for any longer than was strictly necessary. As soon as the threshold was crossed they separated.
As Lesley strolled ahead, Eve limped slowly behind. This wasn’t exactly the meeting she’d envisaged but, disregarding the pain, there were certain advantages. At least she’d managed to get inside – and to inadvertently gain the moral high ground. It was more difficult for anyone to refuse a favour when they’d almost lopped off your toes.
The room she was led to was all cream sofas and pale rugs, the kind of furnishings one really shouldn’t bleed over. She glanced down at her throbbing foot again.
‘Take a seat,’ Lesley said. ‘I’ll get something for that.’
Eve lowered herself gingerly on to the edge of a soft plump chair. She gazed around. Impressive! She could have fitted the whole of her current living space into this room alone. At the far end a tall pair of doo
rs led out into a palm-filled conservatory. Beyond it she could see a long stretch of perfectly manicured lawn.
Perhaps there was something to be said for marrying money after all.
Lesley reappeared a few minutes later with a pot of tea and two china cups and saucers on a tray. She saw Eve’s surprised expression and smiled. It was a small tight smile. ‘I thought we may as well be civilized about this.’
Eve grinned back. Perhaps she was worried about a writ. A claim of assault wouldn’t go down too well at the local golf club.
Lesley passed her a bottle of antiseptic and a small wad of cotton wool. As if her unwelcome guest was an accident waiting to happen, she said, ‘You can use the bathroom if you like.’
‘That’s okay. I’ll be careful.’ She dabbed tentatively at her foot, emitting a series of tiny exaggerated gasps. The pain was starting to subside but it never did any harm to play to your strengths. She was aware of Lesley’s anxious glances but couldn’t tell what she was more worried about – the possible damage to her reputation or to her rug.
The tea was poured and a cup placed solicitously by her side.
‘Thanks,’ Eve said. She stared down at the damp and slightly bloodied ball of cotton wool, unsure as to the etiquette of its disposal. Dropping it on to the table hardly seemed polite. She might currently have the advantage but there was no point pushing her luck. ‘Er … is there a bin?’
Lesley winced before picking the offending object up with the tips of her fingers and carrying it over to the open fireplace.
Eve settled back in the chair. As the downy cushions consumed her she was far from convinced that she’d ever be able to get up again. It was time to move on to the tricky subject of Terry but first she threw in a little flattery. ‘You have a beautiful house.’
‘Yes, it’s got four reception rooms and a pool.’
It was said with such queenly affectation that Eve had to stifle a laugh. She tried, rather unsuccessfully, to turn it into a cough.
Lesley glared at her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean … Look, I haven’t come here to cause you any trouble.’