Hidden

by Barbara Taylor Bradford

  ‘You know, my dear,’ said the unflappable nun, ‘if you had been this firm defending yourself from the person who is really a danger to you, perhaps you would not have those bruises on your wrist. Now follow me. Your friends should be here by now.’

  ‘Friends? What friends?’

  ‘They do think the world of you, my dear. They had hoped to be here before you, but it took longer than they thought to stash your car.’

  Claire just stared.

  Sister Mary Theresa giggled. ‘Listen to me. Stashed. I think Mother Superior is right, I’ve been watching too many episodes of LA Law.’ She turned and headed back up the hill. ‘Come along now.’

  And, despite her confusion and fear, Claire followed.

  Nine

  Mark sat in one of the wine-coloured leather club chairs in his study, staring gloomily at the blazing fire. The bottle of Oban malt whisky on the coffee table was lying on its side, empty.

  Mark rarely had more than one drink. He thought drinking in excess was a sign of weakness, and he detested weakness in himself and others. Yet here he sat, drinking alone in his own home, having made a crucial error with his daughter. He finished the last of the Scotch in his glass.

  Where the hell was she? Claire knew he was coming home tonight. Seven o’clock on a Saturday night and no sign of her, not even a phone call. She needed to be taught a lesson. He got up suddenly, filled with an anger made worse by lack of someone to share it with. He scooped up the bottle and headed into the kitchen, where he buried it deep in the rubbish bin.

  He grabbed a bottle of beer and checked his watch. Nearly eight. He hadn’t expected her to be here when he got back this afternoon. Saturday afternoon was her time. Time to be with girlfriends, run errands, maybe take a run. But this? Unacceptable! It’s those friends of hers; he knew that they had got at her. She was with them now, he was sure. Gossiping about him.

  He still wasn’t over the fact that Claire had insisted on allowing their daughter to go off to London on her own. She rarely defied him like that, and he thought he knew why she wanted Deborah in London without his supervision. Well, she was coming home, that was for sure. Once he and Claire had a meeting of the minds tonight, he was pulling Deborah out of that school.

  He took a long drink of the beer. When did Claire become like this? They used to be happy. The perfect family. From the moment he had seen her at Gilda, he knew he had to have her. Claire, with her dazzling good looks and unique sense of style, and the exquisite Deborah, with her one-of-a-kind musical gift; they fitted perfectly with Mark, and his place in the government and the world. Having his family with him at a state dinner, or a function anywhere in the world, gave added lustre to his image. Not that he didn’t love them for themselves, above and beyond the way they boosted his career.

  But in the last few years the way the family worked had changed. Deborah was twenty-one now and a free spirit. And Claire … well, Claire was no longer to be trusted. But he knew what needed to be done. She must be brought into line.

  He put a dirty plate in the sink with a clank and began searching in the drawer of the little roll-top desk that Claire used for her household accounts. He tore through the neatly ordered papers, letting them land where they fell, until finally he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a leather-bound address book, searched through it for a number and dialled. His jaw twitched with irritation as he listened to the rings.

  A man picked up after four rings. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Jeff, how are you? Mark here.’

  ‘Sorry. Mark? Is there a last name or is this a quiz?’ Jeff was pleasant, but clearly didn’t recognise his voice.

  Mark’s irritation was rising by the second. ‘Mark Saunders.’

  ‘Ahhh. Yes.’ Jeff’s tone had changed abruptly, its warmth gone. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘You can ask Sasha what she’s done with my wife. It’s after eight and she’s not here.’

  ‘Why don’t you call Claire and ask her?’

  ‘If she was answering her phone, I wouldn’t be bothering you.’

  Silence on the other end of the line. Mark was instantly on guard. What was going on here? Jeff had always been friendly. ‘Jeff?’

  ‘I’m here.’ Jeff’s tone was flat. Noncommittal.

  ‘Is Claire there?’ It was impossible for Jeff not to detect the edge in his voice, but Mark didn’t care. ‘If she is, I want to talk to her now!’

  ‘Hey man, calm down. You’re off base.’

  Jeff was being as cold as ice. Someone had been telling Jeff lies about him, Mark was sure. ‘Put her on the phone!’

  But, instead of a reply, Mark heard the distinctive sound of a telephone being hung up. In a rage, he hurled the phone across the kitchen. He knew it. She’d been talking! Mark grabbed his beer and his car keys, and headed for the door that led from the kitchen into the big four-car garage.

  The space where Claire’s car should have been felt like a personal insult. He slid into his enormous black Mercedes, backed out of the garage, and roared down the driveway and through the gates. He would find his wife and, when he did, he would make sure this sort of thing never, ever happened again.

  Ten

  Claire, still wrapped in the pink shawl, kept her distance from the colourful nun as they approached the door of what could only be described as a gothic fortress. The castle-like structure came complete with turrets, leaded-glass windows, pointed arches, stone gargoyles and a pair of carved oak doors large enough to admit a tank. In the fading light it looked beautiful but a bit ominous.

  ‘What is this place?’ Claire was still on alert, ready to run if she needed to.

  Sister Mary Theresa studied the building thoughtfully. ‘It is different things to different people, I suppose. It was built by a wealthy man around 1910, as a gift to his lady love.’

  ‘And what is it for you?’

  ‘That’s a good question. I suppose to me this is a place where people can learn all they need to know about living as well as dying.’

  Claire took a step backwards, wary again.

  ‘Don’t pay any attention to me, my dear. I tend towards the dramatic. When the gentleman who built the place was close to dying, he became concerned about his place in the Kingdom of Heaven. So he left the house, the outbuildings and the land to the church. This is where I live and do my work.’

  The doors opened with a great creaking of hinges. Sasha, followed closely by Paulina and Julia, ran out and threw their arms around a very confused Claire. All three of her friends tried to hug her at once, and their words poured out in a jumble.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Are you cold? We’re so sorry we weren’t here to meet you when you first arrived.’

  ‘I know you must have been frightened, but we didn’t know what else to do.’

  Claire just stared at them. ‘You did this? You did this to me?’

  ‘You wouldn’t do anything to help yourself, so we had to,’ Julia said.

  ‘Kidnap me? You had to kidnap me? Why? Why on earth would you put me through that?’ She pulled herself away from her friends, her eyes blazing. ‘I thought I was about to be murdered!’

  ‘So did we.’ Sasha was shaking her. ‘So did we all. And we had to get you to a place where Mark couldn’t find you. He’s a powerful man.’

  ‘You had no right! This is my life and I can handle it.’

  ‘That might have been true a few years ago. But something has happened to you, Claire. You’re cowed. You’ve lost the ability to fight for yourself. It happens to women when they are being constantly abused.’ Sasha tried to wipe away her tears and Claire’s. ‘Abusers don’t stop being abusers, unless someone makes them stop,’ she added.

  Paulina’s voice was gentle. ‘You have been powerless to stop Mark from hurting you, so we stepped in to get you to safety.’

  Claire caught her breath as she saw the worried looks on Julia’s and Paulina’s faces. She turned to Sasha. ‘You told them! You promised me
you wouldn’t say anything.’

  ‘I didn’t tell them!’

  Claire wrenched herself away from Sasha’s embrace. Paulina put a protective arm around Sasha. ‘For heaven’s sake, Claire, do you think we needed to be told? We ride the train to Manhattan together every morning. We’d have to be blind not to notice the sudden use of make-up, the long-sleeved shirts in the middle of July.’

  ‘This can’t be happening. Poor Mark! This could ruin everything he’s trying to do.’

  ‘Yes indeed. Poor, poor Mark! It must be so tiring for him to come home after a day of being idolised in Washington and then have to beat the bejesus out of his wife!’ Sasha was so angry she was shouting. ‘Remind me to send him a sympathy card! What I’d like to do is run over him with my car!’

  ‘Enough!’ Sister Mary Theresa, who had been taking all this in, took charge. Her tone was soft, but there was power behind her words. ‘Nothing is going to be solved if you all just stand out here shouting at one another.’

  The women stopped talking, taken aback by the authority in her voice.

  ‘Inside, all of you. Go into my study. I’ll bring some tea and then we will sit quietly and speak like adults. Until then, no talking. Not a word.’

  And the women found it impossible not to obey her.

  The four friends drank their tea in silence. Claire sat a little apart from the others, closer to the fire.

  They were in a large room with a vaulted ceiling and walls covered in wood panelling. One entire wall was taken up by a massive but graceful fireplace. Above the mantelpiece hung a very large, painted emblem of Sister Mary Theresa’s order. It looked as if it had been painted quickly.

  Sasha was studying it and Sister Mary Theresa explained. ‘There’s a carving under there of the lady for whom the house was built. She’s naked and lying with her man friend. It’s a fine piece of art, but we felt we should cover it up.’

  ‘Sister,’ Julia said, studying the nun, ‘you certainly are different from the nuns who used to smack me on the knuckles with a ruler when I was at school. They would have torn down the whole fireplace with their bare hands. If thine eye offends thee, pluck it out,’ she quoted, playing up her New Orleans accent.

  ‘Well, at least the good sisters, who I am sure were well-intentioned, taught you your Matthew,’ the nun said. ‘Or was it Mark? Both of those dear saints were very keen on removing any body part that offended.’

  Julia laughed aloud, and the others joined in, and somehow the terrible tension that had filled the room began to melt away. Claire still sat apart, but even she began to relax a bit.

  Sister Mary Theresa began collecting the empty teacups, placing them on a large oval tray. ‘Isn’t it amazing how a cup of tea, and staying quiet, can change one’s ideas?’ She crossed to where Claire was sitting staring at the fire. ‘Julia believes her teachers behaved roughly towards her. Perhaps they did. But I can assure her they did what they did because they cared deeply for her.

  ‘The same might be said for your friends here. The way they went about getting you out of harm’s way was extreme. And there’s no question it caused you great distress. But I do know this complex scheme was born out of love for you, and a deep fear that your life is in danger.’

  The nun hoisted the large tray to her shoulder with the ease of an expert waiter and spoke to Claire’s anxious friends. ‘I remind you all that, no matter what decision Claire makes, you must go with it. Paulina dear, ring the bell when you are finished here, and I will come back.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Mary.’

  Claire’s head whipped around as Sister Mary Theresa kissed Paulina on the head.

  ‘I do wish you would consider letting your hair grow. I did so love plaiting it,’ she said. And then she was gone.

  Claire spoke almost without wanting to. ‘That’s your aunt?’

  ‘Afraid so; my mother’s older sister.’

  ‘She’s … I don’t know … amazing.’

  ‘Isn’t she? And she’s always on at me about my hair. Does she really expect me to manage a bunch of comedy writers in pigtails?’

  ‘I think it would be a good look for you.’ Claire managed a smile, and within seconds they were all on their feet, hugging Claire, hugging each other, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Eleven

  Sasha and Jeff Granger lived in a sprawling log house perched on the shore of the Saugatuck River.

  Jeff was a patent lawyer. He was on the raised, screened-in porch that jutted out over the river when he heard the car. It was tearing down River Road and turning, tyres shrieking, into his driveway.

  ‘What the hell?’ He went into the house and down the corridor that led to the front entrance. Before he could get there, someone was pounding on the door and shouting.

  ‘Claire! Damn it! Get out here! I know you’re in there.’

  Jeff pulled open the door to find Mark, coatless and reeking of booze, panting like a prizefighter. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I want to talk to my wife. Now!’

  ‘Claire isn’t here, and if she were I wouldn’t let you near her. Not in the state you’re in.’

  Mark, who at six foot two was half a head taller than Jeff, started to push his way into the house. Jeff would not be moved.

  ‘Claire! We’re going home!’ Mark shouted.

  ‘You’re either drunk or out of your mind. Now get off my property or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing,’ Jeff threatened.

  Mark tried to push the smaller man out of the way, but Jeff was stronger than he looked. ‘I wouldn’t put your hands on me, if I were you, Mr Special Advisor. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a lawyer.’

  ‘No court in America would convict a man for trying to find his wife,’ Mark yelled.

  ‘You may have been spending too much time in the Middle East, Saunders. In this country, it’s against the law to use your wife as a punch bag.’

  Mark took a swing at Jeff, which he blocked. Just then a low growl echoed down the hall, and an over-sized Rottweiler appeared at Jeff’s side. The dog did not seem to like the vibes he was sensing, and he put his head down and growled again.

  Mark froze where he was, staring at the dog, which stared back at him.

  Jeff laced his fingers through the dog’s collar. ‘Now that I think of it, Rocky here might be able to handle this without my having to call the cops. Get out of here before I let him loose.’

  The dog growled again with menace.

  Mark turned and headed back to his car. He’d left the car running with the lights on and the driver’s door hanging open. He slid into the seat and slammed the door. Feeling brave there in the safety of his car, he lowered his window a bit. ‘We’re not done, you and I, Granger. Count on it.’

  Jeff locked the door and went into the room that he used as his office, grabbed his phone and began texting.

  Mark just showed up half drunk looking for Claire. Is she safe?

  A few moments lapsed before he received Sasha’s reply.

  For now. Got 2 convince her to stay.

  The guy’s out of control. Don’t let her go home. Gd lk. LU

  Sasha texted right back.

  Gonna try. LU2

  Jeff put the phone in his pocket and went out onto the porch. Looking at the river always cleared his mind. He petted Rocky, who was sitting next to him, on guard. What the hell had happened to that guy? Was he snapping under the pressure of his job? If so then, no matter where Claire was hidden, Mark would find her.

  Twelve

  ‘You guys are crazy! I mean, stealing my car? Having me taken to a convent?’

  Sasha drew Claire down next her onto the worn, overstuffed sofa. ‘Desperate times require desperate measures. We need to talk.’

  The other women pulled up chairs and drew together in a small circle in the vast room.

  ‘Sasha, I told you I could handle Mark.’

  ‘You’ve been telling me that for over a year, Claire. I know you think you can, but you can’t.’
/>
  Julia chimed in. ‘He’s got you so scared that you aren’t the person we’ve always known.’

  ‘You’re pretending, kiddo.’ Paulina took her hands. ‘Not just to us, to yourself. Seriously, do you feel safe with Mark? Can you be yourself with him? Are you happy? Is this the kind of relationship you want to be a model for Deborah?’

  Claire started to protest but stopped in mid-sentence. If she said yes to any of those questions she’d be lying. She knew it and they knew it. ‘Okay, I know that you were trying to take care of me. But, despite your lack of faith in me, I am capable of making my own decisions. Tell me what you want to tell me, and then take me home. Mark was due back this afternoon. He’ll be crazy mad that I just disappeared without a word.’

  No one said anything. They just looked at Claire, waiting for her to realise what she had just said.

  ‘Crazy mad,’ Sasha said. ‘I rest my case. Our case.’

  ‘All right. He is a little bit crazy sometimes. But what is it you want me to do? Stay here? Become a nun? I have a job, a daughter. I have a life.’

  ‘Your job can wait. You haven’t taken a holiday for five years. Your daughter is in London. As for your so-called life, I don’t think you have one any more.’

  Claire stopped listening to what Sasha was saying. It was too painful to absorb all at once.

  ‘There’s something I want you to see,’ Sasha said, squeezing Claire’s hand. ‘Paulina, was Sister Mary Theresa able to arrange everything I asked for?’

  Paulina smiled. ‘What do you think? Give Aunt Mary a task, and it’s done by the time you finish speaking.’ She pulled aside a curtain to reveal a large screen TV with a DVD player, and turned to Claire. ‘Your pal Sasha, producer, director of more award-winning television commercials than you can count, has put together a little show for you. Get the lights, Julia.’

  ‘What is this?’ Claire was getting edgy.

  ‘You’ll see. You’ll recognise some of this.’ Sasha hit ‘play’ on the remote, and the screen was filled with the image of a small stage set up under a banner that read NEAR AND FAR BENEFIT.