by Rae Shaw
‘You like to run. So do I. Why not go for one or take a walk in the garden?’
‘I don't have any running shoes. They're at Mark's.’
‘I'll chase up getting your things from Mark's.’ Jackson invited her to stay for as long as she needed and said that he could help her find work, something that she would enjoy doing.
Back in the spacious guest room with the view out across the impressive garden, she lay down on the bed, but failed to sleep, her mind buzzing with a strange sense of purpose, and trepidation. A fruitful combination, if she could work out how to utilise it. Jackson Haynes, her mysterious new benefactor was right; she had to keep moving.
~ * ~
The need to pound the ground and jar her bones until they ached was strong. The garden was one part of the extensive estate; beyond a garden wall there was a meadow and more trees. In the evening gloom she ran along the meandering gravel paths, which were laid out presumably for Jackson’s benefit, and embedded with uplighters. Her Converse shoes weren’t the best for running, but at least they were flat and water-proof.
Returning to the house, there was no sign of Jackson Haynes. She entered the sitting room and covered her mouth, muting the cry.
Nicky sprang up from the armchair and bounded over to her. Taking her into his arms he held her close, rocking her gently in his embrace.
‘Okay, kiddo. I’m here,’ he said. ‘This Haynes guy filled me in on what happened to you out there. How you got out. You poor thing, so scary.’ He squeezed her into a delightful hollow of muscular arms and a soft, sweet-smelling fabric. ‘He told me to come and hug you. Well, that's what I said I'd do.’
‘My apartment – I need it back.’
‘It's already been let to somebody else. You know how quickly these places get snapped up. I'm only in mine because Jed had it first.’ He drew her next to him on a sofa.
She bowed her head and fought back the tears. ‘My things are at Mark’s.’
Nicky briefly scowled. ‘This Mr Haynes says he can have your stuff moved and stored here for now. You mustn’t go there because it's too risky. Someone might be watching.’
Freddie? The man with the ponytail who had bound her? She shivered and Nicky draped his firm arm around her shoulder.
‘I could kip on your floor, couldn't I?’
He tutted. ‘Ah, shucks, honey, Ted has moved in. Cool eh? We’re going to find something bigger. There isn’t enough room for the two of us, never mind a guest.’
‘What about me?’ She sniffed. ‘What’s going to happen to me? No job. Nowhere to go.’
Nicky sucked in a breath. ‘I don’t know. I think you can trust this bloke though. His kids are cute. He sent a helicopter to rescue you. Quite impressive, eh?’
He squished her again. His bulk was so unlike anyone else she had ever met. He protected and soothed at the same time, the very combination she had lacked with her online relationship with Freddie, whom she had blindly followed, accepting his advice and foolishly gifting him all manner of attributes he didn’t possess. Had Freddie really patiently cultivated her friendship and trust for over three years? It didn’t make sense – why her when there were more vulnerable girls to be tricked? She still couldn't believe it.
Nicky eased away from her. Like Julianna, the knuckles of his right hand were red and swollen.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
He blushed and covered his injury. ‘Nothing... I hit a wall. I was pumped up.’
‘You should put ice on it.’
He brushed a rogue lock of her hair out of her eyes. ‘I will, later. I have to go. I’m working extra shifts to pay for a deposit.’
She followed him to the front door. ‘How did you get here?’
He shrugged awkwardly. ‘Some friends dropped me off.’
‘How will you get back? It's miles to the station.’ She peered down the dark driveway. There was no frost or rain, but the wind was nippy and uninviting.
‘The walk will be good for me. I need some fresh air. Look after yourself, kiddo. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Okay?’
She couldn't persuade him to ask Haynes to arrange transport or a room for the night. Nicky's agitation grew and she waved goodbye.
~ * ~
Late in the evening, after she had helped Hettie put an excited Noah to bed, Jackson invited her into the study and the company of another man. Tall, like Jackson, he had buzz cut hair, wore khaki pants and a black sweatshirt. He resembled a commando. Jackson introduced him – Chris Moran, his chief security adviser.
Moran stared at Ellen's face. ‘Feeling better, Ellen?’
In a short space of time, Ellen had become accustomed to her personal life, her name and state, being common knowledge to strangers.
‘Yes. Thank you,’ she said.
‘Any luck?’ Jackson asked Moran.
‘No,’ said Moran. ‘Trail’s gone cold again. I’m afraid there’s nothing to follow, except your accounts, miss. The things you shared online.’ He glanced at his boss.
‘I can give you access, if it would help?’ All those exchanges would be read and judged including the embarrassing level of detail she had given to Freddie and nobody else.
The big guy retrieved a small notepad from his pocket. ‘If you don't mind. Passwords, too. I promise I won't share them with anyone else. It's likely he's deleted his accounts. But it might give us some more leads.’
She and Freddie had only spoken about her problems, a selfish discourse based on her needs and nobody else's. She wrote the account names and passwords down anyway. She had no plans to ever go near them again.
Moran, after dispatching a nod in Jackson's direction, departed.
‘Yesterday, while we waited, Sophia told Hettie that you had a good time at her party and you met Derek; I’m going to suggest you follow up his offer.’ Jackson handed her a slip of paper.
‘Thank you. Yes, Derek. He was very friendly, and I was rather abrupt with him. I hope I didn't offend him.’ Life from now on was going to be about making bridges, not destroying them. No more drinking, either.
‘Hopefully he’ll help you find work,’ Jackson said. ‘Opportunities.’
She felt a small pang of optimism. She would let it grow, but not too quickly, as it would have to be nurtured with the help of others. This time, she would let Jackson guide her. He seemed to be a good man and somebody to trust.
‘Thank you.’ The words of gratitude unstopped the dam she had built, the one that had begun when she was eleven years old at a newspaper shop. She wept, brazenly and loudly. Jackson wasn't embarrassed – he sat quietly. However, neither did he touch her or placate her by calling her sweetie. He passed her the box of tissues and waited.
32
Julianna
Julianna stared into her empty refrigerator. Saturday mornings was when she usually did her weekly shop and she couldn’t be bothered to do it that afternoon. She ate an apple and drank coffee. Wandering ceaselessly about the house, she couldn’t stop thinking about Mark; he had said nothing to her in the car. Was it because he was so consumed by his sister's brush with disaster, which was understandable, or that he had changed his mind about Julianna, now that he had seen her anger on full display? He had convincingly shut her out.
As required, she wrote a formal summary of events for Chris. She yawned and typed, skipped over the details of the fight, and merely stated she had disabled the man, when in fact she had beaten his face to a pulp. Pausing to digest the comment, she examined her bruised knuckles. Real flesh and blood, no matter how deplorable a person they embodied, was not the same as a punch bag. Alex never deserved that kind of anger. Relationships might falter and break, but rage never healed them. The punch bag had to go. Instead of freeing her, it fed her anger.
Her mobile rang. Mr Haynes was calling.
‘How's Ellen?’ she asked.
‘No lasting injuries. She's sleeping,’ Jackson said. ‘I hope I'm not disturbing you, too.’
‘No. I'm awake. Writing a repor
t while everything is fresh in the mind.’
‘Very diligent. It's what I like about you, Julianna.’ Not Baptiste – a small, but significant shift. ‘I want to say thank you.’
Julianna muttered an embarrassed acknowledgement. She waited, hoping the gratitude would take her somewhere better.
‘I dropped you into this and you ran with it.’
‘I did it for Mark, and Ellen, and you know that, sir.’
‘I meant the bigger picture: Haydocks, Zustaller. I wasn't exactly forthcoming when I dangled the carrot. But I needed you to work it out independently. I’m too involved.’
‘One last piece of information, sir. Haydocks. It was Bill Clewer who suggested it to Mark.’
‘Ah.’ Jackson paused. ‘Makes sense, don't you think?’
‘I suppose. He's not really clued into the significance yet. I think he will be. Then, perhaps he might want to visit his father again.’
‘Mark will thank you when he's in a better place.’
The back of the car in a state of anguish was not a better place.
‘Opportunitas needs somebody like you.’ Jackson made the offer, the one she had wanted. It felt like an anti-climax. The price had almost been too high, and the big baddie was still out there, but at least Ellen wasn't with him.
‘I would love to work for the foundation.’ She injected a large dose of enthusiasm into her tired voice.
‘Good. It will be piecework for now, a bit of casework to help you appreciate the technicalities. But it's a starting place. You'll still do your usual job alongside, but there’ll be a pay rise. Understood?’
Her time would be in greater demand, but it would be worth it. After Ellen's close encounter, Julianna was keener than ever to hit back at the shady underworld she’d witnessed close up, and she guessed that the limitations of a charity was what Jackson meant by “technicalities”.
Jackson told her somebody would swing by Mark's flat early in the morning to collect Ellen's things and take them to Fasleigh. She wondered why he was telling her. There wasn't much else to say. He said goodbye in his usual curt manner; he was still the boss. She wondered if Jackson would lose interest in Mark now that he had unravelled the mystery of Bill Clewer.
The report writing faltered and she drank more coffee. The mobile rang again. It wasn't Mark, but she wasn't expecting him to ring, unless he had made it a priority to go out and buy a new phone.
‘Gary?’ she said tentatively.
‘Julianna, I wanted to apologise for sounding off in the car,’ Gary said.
‘What?’
‘You know ranting. You three had obviously had some sort of horrendous misadventure and me being selfish and—’
‘Christ, Gary, forget it. You missed out on family time.’
‘You’re alright?’
‘Sure. Mark and I just need to have some down time.’
‘Looked to me like Clewer has company for the afternoon.’
‘What do you mean?’ Julianna's stomach pinched. Freddie was still at large and Mark had gone back to his flat. How stupid of her! What had she been thinking when she left him in the back of the car in a dazed state – herself, and nothing else. Haynes assumed Mark had stayed with her, hence the request for access to Ellen's stuff.
‘Well, four blokes in leathers were talking with him in the entrance to his flat.’
‘Leathers?’ Bikers. A bad sign. Julianna slammed down the lid of her laptop.
‘Yeah, one with spiky blond hair.’
‘Shit, oh shit!’ Julianna hung up without saying goodbye, grabbed her handbag and dashed to the front door.
~ * ~
Julianna drove precariously fast to Mark's, the car complained noisily, chugging and spewing fumes along the streets. Abandoning it on double yellow lines, she dug out his spare key from her handbag and took a deep breath.
‘Please be there, Mark.’
Like last time, the apartment door was ajar. She shifted her heavy handbag off her shoulder, ready to swing it like a pole-axe. The defensive stance wasn’t necessary: Mark was face down on the settee. He was extremely pale, sweating and trembling, and the collar of his shirt was nearly torn off.
‘What did they do to you?’ She crept towards him. ‘Oh Christ, Mark, I’m taking you to my place. He doesn’t know where I live. You're not safe here. I’m going to take care of you. And don’t fucking argue.’
‘Nicky won’t come back,’ he said feebly.
‘I didn’t mean Nicky. Zustaller lost money and you ruined his revenge. I should never have left you alone here.’ She took charge, rummaged through the bedroom drawers and located plenty of clothes, toiletries, and anything else he might need for the coming days. ‘Do you have a friendly neighbour?’ she asked. He muttered a response.
The neighbours were in and happy to take her key. ‘He’s coming later this evening to collect a few boxes. He’s called Tom Draper. Nice bloke,’ she reassured the elderly neighbours.
She left a message at the Fasleigh gatehouse to tell Tom to contact Mark’s neighbours for access.
‘Come on.’ She dragged Mark off the settee. He moved stiffly. As they passed Ellen’s boxes, he rummaged in one and placed her running shoes on top.
‘Running will help her. She finds it therapeutic,’ he said.
Julianna wished he had shown such thoughtfulness on Friday. There was no point in regretting things. She would have to teach him how things should be done. She would ring her parents and tell them she was happy, safe and in love with somebody, even if he didn't know it yet.
~ * ~
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her sitting room, Julianna held a spoonful of stew to Mark’s lips.
‘The odd thing is, Nicky said nothing once he got me down there. Probably because no words were necessary, and I couldn't think of a single thing to say to him.’
Mark hadn't read the letter Ellen had written. Jackson had confiscated it from Julianna and kept it. Given the anger in Nicky's eyes, it wouldn't have made much difference if Mark had pleaded that it was a terrible misunderstanding between the siblings, accusing each other of hiding the truth when neither of them understood a thing about their father. Mark was slowly realising his father was multi-faceted beyond duplicity.
She let him talk.
‘I don’t blame Nicky for hating me. I understand hatred and what it can do to dignity. Ellen is drawn to men who offer her a paternal shield. Zustaller might be the worst kind of con artist; Nicky, however, is a loyal friend. A decent one, too. When he raised his fist, I closed my eyes and accepted I deserved the beating. Ellen's face has bruises.’
‘But yours doesn’t.’
‘No. But there is a hole in the basement wall. My headache is down to this bloody migraine. I passed out in my flat.’
She had propped him up on her sofa under a blanket. The shivering had stopped.
‘I thought you were concussed. I nearly called an ambulance.’
‘I can feed myself,’ he said with a quirky smile. She wiped his chin when the juice dribbled out of his mouth.
‘I know,’ she said coyly. ‘I want to look after you.’
‘Tastes nice.’
‘Well, it's nothing special. Came out of the freezer,’ she said.
‘I really need to change out of these clothes. I think I stink.’
‘You do smell ripe.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll bathe you in the shower. Did you take the painkillers?’ The migraine explained his silence in the car.
‘Yes, nurse Julianna. I didn’t realise the significance of my speech failing until Nicky pinned me to the wall and not a word came out of my mouth in protest.’
‘Nicky didn't follow through, so I’m not going to either. I’m shattered and so are you. We’re going to shower and go to bed.’
She took the empty dish away. The pleasant exchange masked all the things they weren't saying to each other.
‘I want to apologise,’ he said, in her bedroom an hour later. ‘For everything. For not being ho
nest about my feelings or emotional state. Keeping things from you and from Ellen too. I used you, both of you. I wanted help but was too proud to ask.’
‘Mark, we’ve been using each other. I wanted to work for Opportunitas and this, you and your family, became my pet project for achieving it. Let’s face it, we’ve been unable to articulate our anger at others. You're not Alex, and you don’t talk to me like him.’
The room fell silent.
‘I've not been gentle with you, when we’ve, you know…’ he said quietly, easing himself upright and touching his temple, massaging it with his fingertips.
She quashed a chuckle. She didn't see it the same way. She had asked for sex to be like that – passionate yet detached from love-making. The way animals mated when in heat. ‘I can over-power you, if necessary.’
‘I witnessed that out in Dublin. You’re quite violent when you have to be. How did you learn to do that?’
‘Oh. I’ve been doing martial arts since I was a small child. Dad's an instructor and he started me young. Lots of competitions and he made sure I learnt to maintain discipline. Not go wild with it.’ Except, she had in Ireland. Her father would be disappointed with the lack of self-control.
By the time she had undressed, the warm colours had displaced the cold tinge of paleness on his face. He smiled and this time, she let him embrace her. He had salvaged his relationship with Julianna, but what about Ellen? And Jackson? His presence in the company was a potential liability with Zustaller still in operation. Did he still have a job, and more importantly would Jackson consider him a friend?
She dreaded Monday morning. Jackson wouldn’t wait long to give him an answer.
33
Mark
MONDAY
The message appeared on Mark’s monitor the moment he fired up his computer. He stood for a few minutes mentally preparing himself by staring out of the window at the glazed offices situated on the other side of the bustling London street. Bright sunlight bounced off numerous glass facades, dazzling his still sensitive eyes. Ellen had been with the Haynes family all weekend. What had she told them?