‘What?’ Brandon asked, holding his hands up. ‘Don’t be scared. I don’t mean to scare you. I never meant to scare you. I don’t know why you thought I might. Or was it the people around you telling lies about me?’ He shook his head, suddenly looking angry. ‘I only ever wanted to be with you. I’d never hurt you. Not like the person who did that to you.’ He motioned to her face and Orla felt tears of rage surging. She couldn’t bear to be in the same room as this man. This man who kept coming towards her, and kept using her name in that silky, slimy way.
‘I’d have killed that person, Orla. I’d have killed them for you.’
Orla looked behind her in desperation and saw something on one of the deep windowsills – something heavy and close by that she could use. She grabbed it. It was a large Victorian wash jug in a pink lustre. She loved it, but she didn’t mind using it as a weapon if it kept Brandon away from her.
‘Stand back!’ she cried at him now.
‘What? Or you’ll throw that jug at me?’ He laughed. ‘Let’s not fight any more. I just want to talk. To be with you.’
She frowned in horror at his intimacy.
‘I want you to leave.’
‘No, you don’t – not really. You just need to give us a chance, that’s all. You need to get to know me. I’m a good person and I’ll protect you from anyone who really wants to hurt you. I’ll be good for you.’
Orla stared at him in disbelief. How could he not see that he was scaring her and that she perceived him to be one of the very people who did hurt her?
‘Get out!’ she shouted, finding a mote of inner strength at last. ‘Or I’ll call the police.’
He shook his head. ‘You called the police last time, didn’t you? I thought you might. That’s why I didn’t hang around. But I’ll always come back. I’ll always be there for you, Orla.’
It was more than she could take and, screaming as loudly as she could, she launched the large china jug at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. He fell back, crashing onto the floor, and looked up, stunned. At the same time, Luke came running through and One Ear was heard barking at the back door.
‘What the hell?’ Luke cried, sizing up the situation before seizing hold of Brandon.
‘Get off me!’ Brandon shouted, but Luke was a lot bigger and stronger than him and looked as if he had no intention of letting go.
‘Ring the police, Orla,’ he said calmly. ‘We’ve got him this time.’
Things got a little chaotic after that and Orla moved as if in some kind of terrible nightmare. She let One Ear back inside and, with some pretty menacing growls, he kept a watch over Brandon, alongside Luke. Mercifully, the police didn’t take long in getting there and Brandon was led away.
‘That was some wake-up call,’ Luke said once they’d driven away from the castle. ‘You okay? Cup of tea?’
‘I should leave,’ Orla told him.
She saw Luke frown. ‘Leave the castle?’
‘People can find me too easily here.’
‘But this is your home now, and it’s a good home. A safe home.’
‘How can you say that after what’s just happened?’
‘Orla – he’s gone. He’s in police custody and what happened here won’t ever happen again.’
‘How can you say that? Can you personally guarantee that?’
‘You know I can’t, but I wish I could.’
‘Have you any idea how hard it is for me to trust anyone? To walk past a stranger in the street? Do you have any idea of what’s going on inside my head when I see someone I don’t know walking towards me? It was bad enough meeting him out in the lane, but he was right here! Here in my home – in front of me!’
‘Please – Orla – you’re getting hysterical.’
‘I don’t feel safe here. I’ll never feel safe ever again!’
‘But you can’t keep running away. That’s what I’m trying to say so badly here. This place – this home – it’s good. You have people in this village who care about you, and I know how much you love it here. You’re a part of the castle’s history now. Don’t leave it, Orla. If you do, you’ll just end up somewhere else where you don’t feel safe.’
She stared at him, and she couldn’t help feeling utterly helpless, and that, no matter what he said to her, it wouldn’t make any difference to how she was feeling.
At last, she spoke. ‘What do I do?’ she said in a tiny voice. ‘I don’t know what to do!’
He took a step forward and wrapped his arms around her.
‘Just stay.’
She was crying now, and he stroked her dark hair, feeling her sobs and wishing he could somehow help her.
‘Come on, let’s get you to bed.’
‘But it’s the middle of the day!’
‘Tell me you’re not exhausted and that you don’t want to go to bed,’ he said after the tears had stopped.
She wiped her eyes. ‘I won’t be able to sleep.’
‘You might surprise yourself. Come on – give it a go, at least, okay? I think it’ll do you good.’
Orla let herself be led to her bedroom, where she’d left her curtains drawn against the world that had tried to invade her privacy. Luke turned the bedside lamp on, the comforting golden glow filling the little room.
‘Luke?’
‘Yes?’
‘If I do fall asleep, will you leave my light on, please,’ she whispered.
‘Of course.’ He smiled at her and was mightily relieved when she gave a little smile back. ‘I won’t be far away – if you need me. Me and One Ear both.’ He made to leave the room.
‘Luke?’
‘Yes?’
‘Thank you.’
He frowned. ‘For what?’
‘For being here. I’m sorry if I lashed out. It’s just . . .’ She stopped.
‘Hey! You don’t need to apologise.’
‘Yes, I do. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and I’ve been so horrible.’
He came back towards the bed. ‘No, you haven’t! How can you say that?’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Orla – you don’t need to apologise – really.’ He moved closer. ‘Now, get some sleep, okay?’
She nodded, her sore eyes already closing.
Luke closed her door and went to get washed and dressed properly. When he’d been woken up by Orla’s cries, he’d only had time to pull on a pair of tracksuit bottoms. Luckily, he’d been sleeping in a T-shirt, but he wanted a good wash now, feeling slightly dirty, having been in close proximity to Brandon all that time.
He then swept up the broken china jug, had a quick breakfast and took One Ear into the garden for a run.
Despite his best intentions, he found that he couldn’t concentrate on his work at all, making little progress between the time he started and lunchtime, so he took One Ear out into the garden again and paced around for a bit before deciding that he really needed to talk to someone. Reaching for his mobile, he made a call.
‘Bill?’ he said a moment later. ‘Can you come over?’
It would have been easy for Luke to walk to Oyster Cottage. He felt as if he could turn up any time, but he didn’t want to leave Orla and he’d told her he wouldn’t be far away, and there was no way he was going to risk leaving her on her own, even if the police had her stalker in handcuffs.
It didn’t take long for Bill to arrive and they sat out in the garden together as Luke filled him in on what had been happening.
‘I feel as if I’ve aged ten years. Another ten years!’ Luke confessed.
Bill shook his head in dismay and reached into his pocket, bringing out a small white paper bag.
‘Have a mint imperial,’ he said. ‘Margy hates me eating these things, but I think she’ll forgive us indulging on this occasion.’
Luke took one and was pleasantly surprised by the soothing quality of the sweet.
‘How’s she doing now?’ Bill asked as he popped a second sweet into his mouth.
‘She’s sleeping,
and I wouldn’t be surprised if she slept right through till tomorrow. She looked completely done in.’
‘But he didn’t hurt her?’
‘No, no. I don’t think he tried to touch her or anything. But to be in her home! I think that’s really shaken her. She was already shaken by the encounter in the lane the other day. But I don’t think he’s physically a danger to her. I think it’s more that he reminds her of that whole period of her life when the attack happened. He wasn’t involved in that, but he was a part of the horror of the whole modelling business and I think it just opened up all those painful memories for her. Plus, he’s a complete fruitcake, and that’s never good to have around, is it?’
‘The man who did attack her – he’s behind bars, isn’t he?’
‘He got sixteen years,’ Luke told him.
Bill nodded. ‘Good.’
‘And the model who hired him got a life sentence.’
‘Well, that’s what Orla’s living under, isn’t it?’ Bill said. ‘Her fear and her disfigurement will last a lifetime.’
‘Exactly. At least, if she doesn’t have more surgery, and I don’t think she’s planning on having more. She hates hospitals.’
‘Are the police going to let you know what happens next?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ll probably give them a call and make sure he’s not likely to show himself round here again.’
Bill leaned forward on the bench and shook his head. ‘Poor girl,’ he said. ‘Let’s hope that’s an end to the whole business.’
Orla still hadn’t surfaced by ten o’clock the next morning, which was very unlike her, and Luke was beginning to get worried. He left a breakfast tray outside her door and knocked quietly.
‘Orla? There’s some food for you here. I’m going to take One Ear to the beach, okay?’
When she hadn’t roused by lunchtime, he became more concerned.
‘You want any lunch?’ he asked, gazing down at the breakfast tray, which had remained outside her bedroom door, untouched. ‘Orla? Speak to me! I need to know you’re okay.’
Luke let a couple more hours slip slowly by before he knocked again.
‘Is there anything I can do to help, Orla? Is there anyone you want me to call for you?’
He waited a moment, hoping for an answer, and then he heard a noise and looked down to see a slip of paper that had been pushed under the door. He picked it up and read it. It was a phone number.
Luke took the piece of paper into the great hall. He recognised it as a London number and wondered if it was a friend or a relative of Orla’s, or maybe even some kind of doctor whom she trusted. There was only one way to find out, so he rang the number.
A moment later, a woman’s voice answered.
‘Hello?’
Luke cleared his throat, feeling awkward and anxious.
‘Hi. My name’s Luke. I’m a friend of Orla’s and I’ve been staying with her for a little while.’
‘In the castle?’ The woman’s voice sounded incredulous.
‘Yes.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘Well, that’s why I’m ringing. She’s locked herself in her bedroom and won’t talk to me.’
‘What have you done?’
‘Nothing!’ Luke cried, appalled by her tone. ‘I’m trying to help her.’
‘I’m on my way,’ the voice told him.
‘Who are you?’ Luke managed to ask before she hung up.
‘I’m her mother.’
Chapter 20
Bernadette Kendrick had not come across on the phone as a friendly and understanding human being and, when Luke opened the door to her four hours later, she didn’t look like one either. She was a small, slightly built woman, with the same thick dark hair as Orla, but her face had none of the tenderness Luke had seen in Orla’s. But Luke guessed he should think kindly of her after her long journey and the stress she must be under worrying about her daughter.
‘I’m Luke. Please come in.’
She’d already pushed him out of her way, ignored One Ear, who was barking at her, and dumped her small suitcase in the hallway.
‘Can I get you a cup of tea or some—’
‘Where is she?’ she barked.
‘In her bedroom.’
Bernadette was off. Luke made to follow, but she flung a hand out behind her to stop him.
‘Leave us!’
Luke stopped dead, turning to One Ear, who looked as nonplussed as he was feeling.
‘Well, what do you make of her?’ he whispered.
One Ear slunk back to his bed and Luke went to put the kettle on. He’d make that very rude woman a cup of tea whether she wanted one or not.
After Luke had called Orla’s mother earlier that day, he’d gone straight back to Orla’s bedroom to let her know that she was on her way. Another slip of paper had come out from under the door.
Her name is Bernadette. Do not call her Bernie!
So far, Luke hadn’t had a chance to call her anything.
He made three cups of tea and took two through to Orla’s room on a tray with a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar and a plate of biscuits. The bedroom door was firmly closed and he knocked on it gently.
‘I’ve made some tea for you both,’ he said.
‘Please leave us!’ Bernadette called, sounding exasperated that he should do such a foolish thing.
‘I’ll put the tray outside, then,’ Luke said with a sigh, hovering for a moment, trying to hear them talking together, but he couldn’t really make anything out through the thick wooden door other than low murmurings.
He went back to the kitchen and drank his tea. He knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on his work now and so called through to One Ear. A trip to the beach was what was needed to calm his anxiety. A big blow of ozone should go some way, at least, to making him feel a little better.
It seemed strange to be at the beach without Orla, he thought, as he strode across the sand. One Ear didn’t seem concerned. He wasn’t about to reject a walk when it was offered, no matter who was taking him. Luke watched the great dog lolloping in the waves, and his mind flickered back to a walk he’d had along Camber Sands on the Sussex coast with Helen. The weather had been atrocious. They’d wondered if it was wise to even get out of the car, but they’d set aside a rare afternoon to spend together and they were jolly well going to have their walk on the beach.
The wind had almost taken their breath away as they’d walked. Helen had snuggled into him, her arms wrapped around his. He could almost feel them now, hugging him close.
They hadn’t been the only fools out that day. There were a handful of dog walkers braving the elements, including a couple with a yellow Labrador. Helen’s favourite dog. She’d laughed when she’d seen it sploshing into the sea, barking up at the sky in utter delight.
‘Just imagine if we had a dog like that!’ she’d said. ‘Welcoming you home after a hard day’s work—’
‘Making you go out in all weathers,’ Luke had countered.
He cursed himself for saying that now because he could totally see the joy of having a dog. Okay, so he hadn’t had to walk One Ear in the pouring rain yet, but he sincerely thought that he wouldn’t mind now. Coming to Lorford had taught him so many things, but learning to appreciate simple things like walking and breathing in fresh air was pretty high up on the list.
As he walked now, he looked up at the big blue sky and wondered if somehow, somewhere, Helen could see him and if he could share this moment with her – if One Ear could somehow be their dog for a moment. He hoped so.
By the time he got back to the castle, Bernadette was in the kitchen washing the tea things.
‘How is she?’ Luke asked.
‘Scared.’
Luke watched as she angrily sloshed washing-up suds around, waiting for her to elaborate, but she didn’t.
‘Has she eaten?’
Bernadette didn’t answer.
Luke sighed in exasperation. ‘Can I see her?’
At last, Bernadette turned around to face him. ‘No.’
Luke swallowed hard. It was taking every ounce of his being to remain polite to this woman.
He left the room, taking refuge in the basement, where he was pretty sure Bernadette wouldn’t follow him. He was still deciding how best to treat the wall he’d exposed behind the board. Looking at the carving of the Wild Man, he shook his head.
‘What on earth did you start, my man?’ he said, half wishing that he’d never found the thing.
Bernadette was sitting on the Knole sofa in the great hall, flicking through a magazine she’d brought with her, when Luke dared to surface sometime around seven o’clock.
‘Mrs Kendrick?’ Luke said as he entered the room. ‘I’ve been thinking about the sleeping arrangements. I’ve been in the spare room. I think there is only the one made up in the castle, isn’t there? Well, I changed the bedding over for you this morning. I’ll take the sofa while you’re here.’
She looked up from her magazine, not bothering to disguise her disdain.
‘That is my room you’ve been sleeping in with sheets that I bought,’ she informed him, her eyes fixing on him as if he’d done her a great disservice.
‘It wasn’t being used,’ Luke said in his defence. ‘Orla allowed me to use it.’
Bernadette put her magazine down and stood up and, although she wasn’t tall, Luke couldn’t help feeling that he was being looked down upon.
‘Who exactly are you to my daughter?’
Luke really didn’t appreciate this woman’s tone of voice. Everything she said sounded like an accusation.
‘I’m her friend.’
‘Well, I’ve never heard of you.’
‘Oh, well, I obviously don’t exist, then, if you’ve never heard of me.’ He couldn’t help his sarcasm. This woman had been winding him up ever since he’d rung her.
‘Are you married?’
Luke was stumped by the sudden question. ‘Well, I’m . . .’
‘Single?’
‘Not . . . exactly . . .’
‘What does that mean? Just exactly why are you here?’
He put his hands on his hips. ‘That’s not really any of your business, is it?’
The Beauty of Broken Things Page 23