They began to walk round the room slowly, not taking anything in. Alex sensed Sasha had something on her mind, so she waited until her sister was ready to speak.
Sasha stopped. ‘All this,’ she said in a low voice, sweeping one arm around, ‘does not mean I have forgotten my babies. Harry and Millie.’
‘I know.’ Alex caught hold of her hand and squeezed.
‘I think about them all the time. What they would have become. What sort of people they would be.’ Her lip trembled. ‘It’s a long time since they died, I know that, but they’re always with me. And I’ll always have to live with what I did. Some days I can hardly bear to live with it. But that’s my punishment. I’ve done this for them.’
Each painting was a swirl of colour – blues and greens and yellows. Reds, purples, cream, brown, even black. But each one made Alex feel something. Joy. Sadness. Waves being whipped up by the sea. There were portraits too: an elderly couple sharing a sandwich behind a windbreak, their love for each other caught by the artist; a fisherman mending his nets, the lines on his face showing the ravages of weather; the twins – Sasha’s dead twins, laughing, eating ice creams. Alex brushed a tear away.
‘Do you like them?’ Sasha’s voice was quiet, as she stood shoulder to shoulder with Alex.
Alex nodded. ‘Wonderful, Sasha. They are all wonderful. I—’ She could hardly speak.
‘You didn’t know I had it in me, did you?’ she grinned.
Alex shook her head. ‘Honestly, I had no idea. When you said you’d taken up art, I didn’t realize this would be the result.’
‘I took classes while I was at Leacher’s House.’
Leacher’s House: the mental health unit Sasha was sent to after finally admitting to having killed her twins during what had become clear was a bout of postpartum psychosis.
‘Your sister is very talented,’ said Jamie, returning to Alex’s side, bringing her a glass of champagne.
The sombre atmosphere was broken.
Sasha laughed and nudged Alex. ‘He’s probably a keeper if he carries on being charitable about my art.’
‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘And I apologize for not bringing you a glass, Sasha.’
‘No worries, I am drunk on excitement and adrenaline. Oh look, Pierre is waving at me, I’d better go.’
‘Pierre?’ asked Jamie over the rim of his glass.
‘I think he’s plain old Peter at home, but he likes to bring a bit of the exotic to Gisford.’ Alex grabbed a couple of canapés from a waiter who was gliding around the room. ‘Here,’ she said.
Jamie took the mini hot dog and popped it in his mouth. ‘Perhaps we could have supper somewhere. Afterwards, I mean.’
‘That would be lovely, thank you.’ Had she accepted too quickly? Sounded too keen? ‘I know Sasha is going to dinner with Pierre and a couple of “patrons”’, Alex pronounced the word in a mock-French accent, ‘of the gallery, so she won’t miss me.’
A waiter glided by and refilled her glass. The string quartet in the corner was playing soothing classical music. There was the tinkle of laughter, the chinking of glasses.
Alex took a sip of her wine. ‘Jamie, do you know a woman called Karolina?’ Go straight in there, why don’t you? She could have bitten the words back.
‘Karolina. I don’t believe so. Should I? I rather like that painting over there.’ He pointed to a landscape of sea and sky.
‘She’s a cleaner. For your family business.’
He laughed. ‘A cleaner? And why would I know one of the cleaners?’
His tone set her teeth on edge. ‘Karolina is a homeless person who I met at one of David’s hostels.’ What was she doing? This was absolutely not the right time for this.
Jamie sipped his drink. ‘Well, Ma does tend to try and find jobs for what she calls “the deserving”.’ He appeared to be thinking. ‘But, as I said, I usually stay in one of the cabins when I’m home, and I have been in London a lot lately. Working. So I haven’t come across anybody new at the farm.’
‘Of course.’
‘When did she start, do you know?’ Jamie appeared mildly interested.
‘Karolina? Probably in the last couple of days.’
‘There you are then. I’ve been moving money around lately.’ He grinned. ‘Rather successfully, as it happens. Look, if my mother has employed her, then she will be treated properly. Is that what you’re worried about? She’ll have somewhere to live on the farm—’
‘Where?’
If he was surprised at the sharpness in her voice he didn’t show it. ‘We have caravans, in one of the fields, for temporary workers.’
‘In the winter?’
‘Oh, don’t worry. They are state-of-the-art caravans. Heating and lighting and everything.’ He smiled gently. ‘Why are you asking about this Karolina woman?’
‘Doesn’t matter.’ She tucked her arm into his. ‘Let’s enjoy the evening.’
‘Come on, you have to tell me now.’
She looked at him. She really didn’t want to go into it.
‘I’m curious,’ he said. ‘I’m going to stand here until you tell me. And people will think I’m very odd if I stand on the same spot all evening. Not moving.’ He struck a pose and stood stock still, staring into the distance.
Alex laughed. ‘Very well. You asked for it. I met Karolina originally in a Fight for the Homeless hostel and I was supposed to talk to her about the homeless people who have gone missing—’
‘You’re not still following that old path, are you?’ He grabbed a mini fish and chips in a cone off the tray of a passing waiter and popped it into his mouth.
She nodded. ‘I told you, I have to.’
‘Why?’
‘I feel guilty about Rick Winterton. I didn’t tell you before, but I first found him, injured, by a crashed car. Two men took him away – one of them was in that picture I showed you – and he hasn’t been seen since.’
‘This was before he was whisked away by men in a white van?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Okay.’ He nodded, licking his fingers.
‘And David Gordon told me Karolina had a job with your family.’
Jamie was looking at her, puzzled. ‘I don’t know what you’re trying to say here. Are you suggesting that Karolina disappeared after she got the job with my family?’
Alex looked at him. ‘I’m saying that Karolina was recruited by the men who picked up Rick Winterton at the accident.’
‘And you think these two men are what, working for my family?’ he said. ‘Seriously? You think my family is involved in making homeless people disappear off the streets? And what would they be doing with them? Experimenting on them? Selling their organs? Sending them to alien ships?’ He shook his head, then leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘If I didn’t like you so much, I might be offended. But I do, so I’m not. However, if it would set your mind at rest, we can always go and ask them.’ He looked across the gallery to where his parents were talking to two couples. Lewis and Simon Rider seemed to be stalking around in front of the paintings.
‘No,’ she said hurriedly, ‘that won’t be necessary.’ She was making a right mess of this, sounding stupid.
‘Alex, I think you’re conflating too many things. Homeless people disappearing, which isn’t unusual because they move around all the time—’
‘I know, but this feels different.’
‘Instinct, huh? Gut feeling? The journalist in you?’
Did she imagine it, or was there a sneer in his voice? She imagined it, she decided.
‘Something like that, yes. But I did see your brother coming out of David Gordon’s office.’
‘The Rider family donates to various charitable causes. Fight for the Homeless is one of them. You know that.’ There was a touch of impatience in his voice.
Alex sighed. ‘David did tell me.’
‘There you are, then.’
‘One more thing—’
‘Go on.’
> She hesitated, but she couldn’t help herself. ‘You know I went to change out of my wellies the other night in your boot room, where I had left my shoes?’
‘Er, yes?’ It was clear he didn’t really remember.
Alex ploughed on. ‘When I came out, you were talking to two men. Arguing even.’
He wrinkled his forehead. ‘Yes, I remember, there was a security issue.’
‘One of the men – I didn’t see his face – he was wearing a red Puffa jacket underneath his hivis.’
‘A red Puffa jacket? So what?’
‘The other man who I believe picked Rick Winterton up from the streets – before the accident – was wearing a red Puffa jacket.’
‘And, what? You think there is only one such jacket in Suffolk?’ He laughed at her.
‘Well, no.’ She was beginning to wish she hadn’t started the conversation. ‘It seemed a massive coincidence, that’s all.’
‘My dear girl,’ Alex tried not to feel patronized, ‘it was a red jacket. Probably completely different to the one belonging to whoever took Rick Winterton away. Even if it was like that one, it doesn’t mean it’s the same one.’ He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Look, this is ridiculous. It is only a jacket. That’s all.’
Alex looked at him. ‘Maybe. I’m most likely putting two and two together and making five.’
‘Seven, I would say. Jackets, cleaners, homeless people disappearing, honestly, Alex.’ He shook his head in mock despair.
She smiled. ‘Seven, then.’ Perhaps she was seeing ghosts and monsters where there were none. Or perhaps she wasn’t. ‘You might be right. It’s not as if those sorts of jackets are a rarity, are they?’
‘Precisely. Now let’s have another drink and marvel at your sister’s show.’
He was right. Those sorts of jackets were common enough. Yet there had been something about Jamie’s quick dismissal of the whole thing that sat uneasily with her.
They wandered around the gallery, Alex enjoying overhearing people saying how much they loved Sasha’s paintings, and what a find, what a talent. She was filled with happiness for her sister, but also filled with doubt about Jamie Rider. She couldn’t shake off a feeling that she was missing something that was right in front of her eyes.
White van. He had mentioned a white van. How did he know that?
‘Alex, darling.’ Her mother arrived at her side and kissed her cheek.
‘Mum.’ Alex was delighted, and pushed thoughts about Jamie Rider and white vans out of her head. ‘I didn’t realize you were coming.’
‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s a shame your father couldn’t be here to see it.’
Alex felt a familiar pang of loneliness. She was close to her father, but felt she had lost him. His mind was moving further and further from life every day. When she went to visit him at the home, the times when he recognized her were becoming few and far between. It broke her heart. And her mother found it hard, for all the brave face she put on things. ‘He’s all right, isn’t he? I haven’t been to see him this week.’
‘He’s fine. Same as usual really. Not getting any better.’ She smiled sadly, then seemed to shake herself. ‘And this is?’
Her mother, she thought, looked far too interested, in a mother sort of way.
Alex laughed. ‘Sorry. Jamie, this is my mother.’
‘Lovely to meet you, Mrs Devlin.’ They shook hands.
Her mother gave Alex a less than discreet smile and then turned to Jamie. ‘I’ll leave you to it; I ought to get home now anyway. Nice to have met you, Jamie.’
‘Your father’s ill? Is it serious?’ asked Jamie, once Alex’s mother was out of hearing.
Alex nodded. ‘He’s in a home. Dementia.’ She didn’t want to give any other explanation, didn’t want to go into the ins and outs of his condition, didn’t want to share what she had left of her father.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you. It’s been hard, but we’re getting there. He’s much happier in the home. He knows where everything is. Nothing much changes. And Mum goes to see him every day.’
Jamie nodded and was quiet for a moment.
‘Right.’ He pointed at the gallery wall. ‘I want to buy one of these paintings. Which do you think, Alex?’
‘Whichever one you like.’ She smiled at him.
‘Come on, let’s check them out.’
It took Jamie only a few minutes to settle on one of Sasha’s oils of the sea at Southwold. ‘There,’ he said, as the red sticker went on. ‘I reckon I’ve got a bargain from an up-and-coming painter. Will be worth a few quid in a year or two.’
Alex laughed. ‘I love your confidence, thank you.’
‘No worries.’
There was a sudden commotion at the door.
‘Jamie Rider. She said you’d be here.’ Cora pointed at Alex while weaving towards them, eyes blazing, clearly drunk.
‘Cora, what on earth are you doing?’ Alex tried to steer her away from Jamie. ‘Everyone is looking at you.’
‘I don’t fucking care.’ Cora shook off Alex’s hand.
‘Well I do.’ Alex felt the anger rise up in her. How dare this woman spoil her sister’s evening? ‘This is my sister’s show.’
‘I told you, I don’t fucking care. I wanted to see him, look him in the eye.’ She pointed to Jamie and walked up to him and stood right in front of him. ‘You thought you’d seen the last of me all those years ago, you and those brothers of yours. Always treating us like dirt. And as for that slimeball Lewis—’
‘What about me, Cora?’ Lewis stood in front of her, a twisted smile on his face.
His eyes, Alex noted, were cold. Chips of ice.
Cora seemed to shrink in front of him. Then she stood tall. ‘You are the worst of them. Well, almost.’ She flicked her eyes across to where Marianne and Joe Rider were standing. Joe was talking to a woman in a jumpsuit who had a bandana tied around her hair. He glanced over at Cora for only a second before resuming his conversation. Marianne stared at Cora before she, too, turned away.
‘That’s enough.’ Jamie’s voice was low, controlled. ‘You’re making a show of yourself and you’re not welcome here, Cora.’
‘Where’s Rick? He hasn’t contacted me. Something must have happened to him.’ She stood as close as she could to Jamie, trying to intimidate him with her small frame.
‘I don’t know, Cora. Really.’
She stared at him, then collapsed in on herself. He took her very firmly by the arm and led her out of the gallery.
Alex watched them go as the buzz of conversation started up again. She was glad to see that Sasha had shrugged it off.
‘Friend of yours?’ she’d mouthed at Alex. ‘Rival in love?’
Alex shrugged and looked as apologetic as she could. ‘Sorry.’
Sasha laughed and resumed her conversation. She was so happy it appeared nothing, not even a drunk, angry woman could spoil the evening for her.
But it had spoiled it for her.
She was burning to know what Cora was talking about and why, and the way the Riders had reacted to Cora, their sheer disdain, made her blood boil. Careful, Alex, she told herself. Relax. Don’t frighten him off. The time to ask will come. She made a deliberate effort to bring her shoulders down from round her ears.
Jamie reappeared and smoothly took her arm, guiding her around the rest of the exhibition.
The evening carried on, and more of Sasha’s paintings were graced by a red dot. Alex did a lot of nodding and smiling. The critics – two of them – turned up from London, and the invited guests soon ate and drank all the supplies.
‘Supper?’ Jamie eventually asked.
Alex nodded. ‘Could we have a walk first? The evening is still young and I would like to have a bit of fresh air, if it’s not raining too much.’ And she was burning to find out why Cora was so angry with the Riders. But she had to tread carefully.
The rain had relented for once and the air was cold, the sky above clear
and studded with stars. Alex and Jamie began to walk slowly towards Gisford Quay. Jamie had his arm around her waist, and Alex leaned in, wanting him to relax with her.
‘So what is the history between your family and Cora? And presumably her brother Rick?’ Alex asked, watching her breath float on the night air.
Jamie sighed. ‘You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that. Her father was the farm foreman, in the days when the farm was just that, a farm. None of this diversification that we all have to do to survive these days. Their house was a tied cottage and they didn’t have a lot of cash. Their parents worked hard, but Cora and her brother were jealous of us. Resentful. They would bad-mouth us in the village, and Rick even stole Lewis’s girlfriend – look, you don’t want to hear this, let’s not spoil a lovely evening.’
‘I know, but she was so angry with you all. I mean, what have you done to make her like that?’ She tried to sound light and curious, not that she was desperate to know.
‘Bloody Cora.’
‘She said to ask you what happened twenty-four years ago.’ She tucked herself further into the warmth of his body, determined not to give up.
‘Twenty-four years ago? What are you talking about? Look, can we stop for some food? Please?’
She got the impression he was playing for time. ‘Yes, after you’ve told me what happened then.’
He stepped away from her. Something – fear? Irritation? flitted across his face. ‘You’re not going to stop, are you?’
She shook her head. ‘Tenacious, remember?’ She smiled, hoping she sounded non-threatening.
He looked up to the sky and then back at her. He shrugged, letting go of her. ‘Twenty-four years ago Cora accused my brother Lewis of rape.’
‘Right.’ A big deal then. And it explained the photo she had found and why Rick had that look on his face. ‘And?’
‘Well, of course it wasn’t rape.’ He was dismissive. Or defensive? ‘They’d been friends for years, but she’d always been jealous of us because of where we lived, how we lived. All that. Things went a bit far one evening after the pub and …’
‘And what?’
‘Do you really want me to go on?’
Gone in the Night Page 21