by Gemma Fox
The man swallowed hard. ‘I’m still really not sure about all this.’
Ms Heart got up from the keyboard and Coleman took her place.
‘So who am I now?’ he tried with forced good humour.
Coleman looked up from the screen. ‘Just hang on a mo’, we’ll have to wait for this to finish the run.’ He glanced up at his assistant who was hovering by the door. ‘Ms Heart, if you’d like to go into the other office and get someone to transfer all this stuff onto the new documents, please?’
She screwed up her face again and left.
The printer ground to a whining halt and Danny Coleman tore off a sheet of paper.
‘Here we are,’ he said, presenting the sheet to the man. ‘This is your life.’
Coleman looked back over his shoulder into the other office. Ms Heart was hunched over the photocopier peeling sheets of paper out of the tray.
He sniffed. He missed Dorothy Crow dreadfully, more than he thought possible, although Danny would never have said that to anyone. Too risky, too controversial. He pulled out a nasal spray from his inside pocket and fiddled with the top. Until Dorothy he had always considered himself a good judge of character and it worried him a little that he hadn’t been able to see through to Ms Crow’s dark little heart.
They had picked her up on her way to the airport, her jet-black hair tucked up and away under a blonde bobbed wig. Coleman didn’t like to say how very sexy she looked. Dorothy must have guessed that she had been set up – after all, there were only a handful of people who knew exactly what was going on with Nick Lucas. What she hadn’t known was just how closely each of those people were being monitored. He sighed and took a pull on the nasal spray; sweet relief flooded through him.
All those years of impeccable service, her spotless record all wasted. They had traced her text messages to Nimrod and Cain. They had found her new persona on file, all arranged by Stiltskin, although even now Coleman found it hard to believe that Dorothy Crow had sold her soul for a few hundred thousand, a small income for life and a place in the sun. But then again there was nowt so queer as folk, particularly folk who felt they had been overlooked at promotion and refused a department of their own just because they were a woman. Coleman had sent the hit men their final instructions by text message, his message rerouted via Dorothy’s number.
He sighed and looked down at the latest set of personal details in front of him, remembering only at the last minute to paste back the smile – and wondered if, given the same situation, he might have done the same thing as Ms Crow.
While Bernie Fielding planned a new life in Lanzarote and Coleman was fitting a new witness with his shiny new persona, and out at Elstree Lesley was busy poring over her midweek schedule, an aircraft was landing at Heathrow. Aboard the aircraft two tall, good-looking, suntanned men in mirrored shades and expensive charcoal-grey suits waited for the cabin doors to open. Cain Vale tucked a newspaper into his flight bag.
‘What d’ya think, then, Nimrod?’
Nimrod Brewster, sucking on a Minto grinned the cool even smile of a basking shark and glanced out of the window at the clear blue sky.
‘No problems, my son,’ he said in an undertone. ‘In. Out. We’ll be back in Marbella by tea time tomorra.’ He mimed a sharp-shooter’s draw with his index finger and then blew away a phantom wisp of smoke so real that he could almost smell the cordite.
They had had a lot of interest shown in their services since the Nick Lucas hit, under the noses of the local feds, had leaked out onto the grapevine. Nimrod – while not claiming any glory – certainly hadn’t gone out of his way to disabuse anyone of the notion. He still had the press cutting tucked away at home somewhere. ‘Tragedy as freak fall kills lone walker.’
Out in the aisle Cain cheered visibly. ‘Right, so in that case can I have the window seat on the way back?’
Nimrod considered for a moment or two. ‘I’ll toss you for it. Afterwards.’
Cain stretched. As they got to the top of the plane steps ready to disembark, in amongst the noises and smell of the airport, was the hint of spring, all soft greens, the air ripe with all manner of possibilities. ‘Nice to be back. Looks like a lovely day out here –’
Nimrod nodded. Shame they had to work really. He pulled on his coat and made his way down to the arrivals area.
On a long golden stretch of beach called Yorkies Knob, way up on the tropical coast of Far North Queensland, just a short drive from Cairns and God alone knows how many thousands of miles away from Minehead, West Norfolk and the rest of the crew, Mr and Mrs Nick Somerville were happily walking their dog, Bernie, along the water’s edge.
Ahead of them their two boys – Ben and Joe, children from Mrs Somerville’s previous marriage – ran around the weird circular patterns in the sand; intricately arranged traps baited by the little crabs that lived just below the surface. Laughing and playing the kids paddled in the water, picked up stray fronds of kelp and threw sticks for the dog, who barked enthusiastically, encouraging them on.
It was late afternoon, the sun already dropping in the cloudless blue-gold sky. Another half an hour or so and they would have to head back to get ready for the evening shift at Nick’s new restaurant.
Evenings in the tropics weren’t like those back home, night fell without warning, extinguishing the last rays of a fierce sun and leaving behind a humid midnight-blue blanket scattered with the twinkling stars of the Southern Cross. Deep in thought, Maggie stared out across the sea.
Nick liked to get the restaurant opened up early on a Friday evening, catching the customers high on that end-of-the-week feeling. His house specialities were based on an imaginative fusion of ideas blending traditional Western food with Pacific-rim flavours, full of garden-fresh ingredients, herbs, subtle flavours and wonderful crisp, clean colours. They were already getting to be known locally as a decent place to eat – and that was all Nick needed. Word of mouth was better than almost any other advertising.
Maggie knew that she and the boys had to go home soon, but for now there was just the four of them, walking and talking and laughing and playing along the sea strand, relishing the rays of a fading day as the sunlight tipped the waves with shades of gold and bronze.
Maggie shivered, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her fleece and then grinned. It showed she was finally acclimatising. Heading into Oz’s autumn she was feeling the first chill of the turning year, whereas the tourists on the beach were all stripped down to tee shirts and shorts and still too hot.
It felt like Australia had been a good choice so far. Cairns and the area around it was a great place to bring the kids to, a good place for Nick to open a restaurant, and far enough away for them to truly begin afresh. As far as Maggie’s family and friends were concerned she had gone over on a teaching exchange. Only after her imagined year’s contract ended would Maggie announce that she had found true love and would be staying on permanently.
Oddly enough, the one thing that hadn’t caused her a moment’s doubt was marrying Nick Lucas. Coleman had arranged all the paperwork, a registrar, a special licence, and then shown up as one of their witnesses at a little family church on an estate, miles from anywhere that the guys at the relocation unit had hired for them, although Coleman had had to sign the register under an alias cooked up by Stiltskin.
So that was that.
Maggie had liked Australia from the moment she arrived, although maybe liked wasn’t quite the right word – been receptive was a better choice. She had been receptive to the possibilities it offered. It struck her as still open and free and wild with loads of sunshine, fresh air, great food and – with a few notable exceptions – a warm tolerance of differences that often seemed missing in Europe. Not locked in by the old ideas of the class system all things were possible. It felt like a perfect place for a new family to start over.
The two boys had grown taller since they’d arrived and were already filling out. Both of them had settled down well into their new schools and seemed
okay about the move. Not that there hadn’t been teething problems for all of them, but they were the ordinary things associated with moving, rather than things specifically about emigrating to a new life with Nick.
It would take time for the dust to settle but Maggie knew instinctively that the four of them would do just fine.
She glanced ahead. Further along the beach Ben picked up a stick, chasing ahead with the dog while a balmy wind rolled in over the sea, calmed and subdued by the great protective arms of the Barrier Reef.
Nick slid his arm through Maggie’s and pulled her close. ‘Penny for them?’
Maggie sighed. ‘Not sure that they’re worth it – anyway, it’s nothing new, you’ve heard it all before.’
‘Ummm – you smell lovely, all sea and sunshine. You okay?’ he purred, snuzzling his lips into the curve of her neck.
She giggled at the delicacy of his touch, relishing the little flurry of kisses and the wonderful feel of his body encircling hers while all the while still looking out at the clear blue sky and the heavenly blue water.
‘More or less. Actually, and I know it sounds crazy, I was just thinking about the beach hut at St Elfreda’s Bay. The sea always makes me think of summers down in Somerset. I don’t suppose I’ll ever see it again now.’
‘Are you homesick?’ he said anxiously, searching her face for clues.
She smiled and stroked his cheek; what they had between them was too truthful, too special for her to try and reassure him with a lie. ‘Sometimes, sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where the hell I am and what I’m doing here. And when that happens Cairns feels like a very long way away from home. I’m a Norfolk girl born and bred, palm trees and tree frogs and papaya for breakfast out on the veranda are way outside my frame of reference, Nick. And then sometimes – more of the time as the months go by – it’s all all right and I know that given time this will feel like my home – and then I can’t imagine being anywhere else on earth. I just need time to settle – let’s face it, we all do.’
Maggie turned to face Nick, hoping that the warmth and affection she felt for him showed on her face and in her eyes. She had never loved anyone or felt more loved in her life than she did with Nick. It couldn’t be any easier for him than her but it was always Maggie they discussed. Perhaps for Nick there had been less of a choice; he had had to go. But she and the boys had chosen to leave with him.
For Nick, the three of them were his fresh start, a ready-made family to cushion the blow of what amounted to banishment for life from everything he had ever had. Sometimes it seemed like a very big price to pay for a little justice; but then who was she to judge?
Nick, Maggie knew, was painfully aware that she had done nothing and yet had chosen to share his sentence, so maybe it was guilt mingled with gratitude that made him ask her.
Maggie grinned and pulled him close; curling up against his body. How would she ever make him understand that while it was a hard choice it felt like the right choice – the only choice. Nick Somerville, nee Lucas, was the best thing that had happened to Maggie in years.
‘So yes, I do love it here and I love being with you. It’s just that some days it seems too big a thing, but I also know that it was the right thing. Do you understand?’
Nick lifted her fingertips to his lips. She let the grin linger. ‘And you have to remember I lost you once – I still keep thinking how bloody awful that felt, seeing you lying there, thinking you were dead, feeling as if I had lost the chance to even begin. I don’t ever want to do it again.’
The intensity of the moment was broken by Maggie yelping and jumping out of the way as their dog – an Australian Blue Heeler – charged between them, shaking the water from his sleek mottled coat, barking with excitement as he went.
‘Bloody dog,’ she laughed, picking up the stick that the dog had dropped at her feet and throwing it ahead of them into the white lacy-edged waves. ‘And I suppose if it gets too bad I could always dye my hair, wear dark glasses and pop back for a holiday and leave you here to mind the fort. Assuming you wouldn’t mind teaching my Year Six’s next term?’
Nick grinned. ‘I knew that you were something special the first day I met you, Maggie.’
She pulled a face and poked him teasingly. ‘Oh please, Nick. I was actually just thinking how much easier my life would have been if I’d followed my first instinct and laid you out with a baseball bat the moment I clapped eyes on you.’
‘There’s still plenty of time for that,’ he said, as she broke away from him and raced off down the beach, giggling.
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.harpercollins.co.uk
A Paperback Original 2004
Copyright (c) Gemma Fox 2004
Gemma Fox asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2010 ISBN: 978-0-007-36810-5
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (PO Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East – 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollinsPublishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollinsebooks.com