by KERRY BARNES
The hot water jets hit his head like a thousand sharp needles, but they instantly relaxed his muscles and helped to soothe his worrying mind. First up, he needed to be clear-headed, ditch his own stubbornness, and track down his girl – in the hope she hadn’t jumped to any wild conclusions. ‘Shit!’ he said aloud. He should’ve been more sensitive. After all, Zara was not herself just yet; she was quiet and seemed a little lost among the party guests. He should’ve known it would have been all too much for her.
Once he’d got dressed and hurried back to the lounge, he retrieved his phone; luckily, it was still intact. Zara’s phone was still switched off. All he could do was send her a voicemail message. Having done that, he put his phone in his pocket. Now impatience and agitation set in again as he screamed to no one, ‘For fuck’s sake, what’s she doing?’
Gloria returned again with a tray of fresh coffee and some more McVitie’s digestive biscuits. ‘Mikey, stop fretting. She’ll be back. She’s probably gone to meet the Lanigans or even headed up to the hospital. That poor lad. His father must have been worried to death.’
Mike listened as his mother rambled on, and then he frowned. ‘I’m gonna let her get on with it, the silly woman. She should’ve known me better. Where’s Eric gone now?’
‘Son, your brother is a law unto himself. He tells us nothing.’
‘What?’ Mike sensed the sadness in her tone. ‘But we’ve no secrets. We never have had.’
Gloria took her coffee and sat back down, crossed her legs, and sighed. ‘Mikey, he ain’t like you. He never has been. The truth is, when you ran the firm, he followed you around, but, left to his own devices, he’s a bit of a dark horse; sort of detached, if ya know what I mean.’
‘Devious?’
Gloria raised her brows. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, but let’s just say he’s not as open as you. The truth be known, you two were so close in age, we probably treated you as if you were one person. You were the voice for both of you. Eric seemed to stand by your side, you did the talking, and he just nodded in agreement. You led the firm, and with your ideas, you grew the business, and you were always the one who was on the front line. Even as a little lad, you would place Eric behind you, protecting him, in a way. You might not have realized it, but you did.’ She stared off into space as if reliving a moment. ‘You were always an open lad. Whether we liked what you did or said, or not, you never hid anything. You’ve always been a straight-up, no-holds-barred person and so honest.’
Mike listened and knew somewhere in his mother’s words there was a ‘but’. ‘Mum, tell me, what did Eric do while I was away?’
She stared up at her son and chewed her lip. ‘Mikey, I don’t have a favourite. I love you both the same. But, I have to say, when Eric disappeared to Spain or wherever, I disliked him. I couldn’t get my head around the fact that he left you inside to rot. Your father felt the same. He was so disappointed with Eric. You know, it made him sick. But the fact of the matter is, we’ve still no idea what his life is about, even though he’s been back a while, and we’ve lost interest in his business affairs anyway.’
Turning the phone over in his hand, he looked at his mother, and a cold expression clouded him. ‘Well, Eric seems to be doing okay for himself, so perhaps it’s best that he stays away from the firm. I mean, when he did come to visit me, he almost pleaded to be back in with us. I dunno, that was a month ago. Perhaps he’s changed his mind.’
Gloria slowly nodded, in acknowledgement. ‘Mikey, the lads have been so good, they’ve well and truly had your back. My advice is to stick with them, babe.’
It seemed so natural to talk to his mother about issues he would otherwise have discussed with his father.
‘I love you, Mum. I’m sorry for all the pain I’ve put you through. I just want you to know, I appreciate everything.’
Gloria tilted her head to the side, surprised at her son’s remark. He wasn’t the type to be soppy, and yet his kind heart made him the man he was.
Unlike Eric.
***
As Shamus left, he looked back at the imposing grand house and shuddered. He hadn’t wanted to look at Zara’s wrist, yet his eyes had been drawn, and a sick feeling coiled around him. It wasn’t because what he’d seen was gruesome but for the fact that he’d been sitting with her in the house that had actually been her prison while she nursed a terrible wound.
His mind was electric as he walked to his car. Never in his life had he met a woman more determined. His uncle was right when he’d told him not to be fooled by her dainty looks: she was smart and dangerous. He realized that for himself because there was no way he would sit in a house that would project so many horrific memories and act like it was nothing. With her obvious disability, frail and almost pitiful, she still managed to draw him in, hanging on her every word. It was surreal, and he couldn’t get her off his mind.
***
Still racked with so many emotions, Zara tried to put her thoughts into perspective; maybe she’d got Mike wrong. The womanly thing to do would be to front him out over it, and if his proposal was a mistake, then she would walk away. She had a business to run, and first things first, she needed to get this place, which was full of dust and memories, cleaned up. As much as the red drapes reminded her of her father, they definitely needed to be replaced. The paintwork required a good touch-up, and the overgrown garden called for a gardener. As she wandered from room to room, wondering what her brother had sold or changed, she became aware of how much life had been extinguished from the place. Since her father’s death, she concluded that he’d been the heart of the building and now it had simply stopped beating. Determined to make this her home once more, she would employ a team of cleaners, gardeners, and designers, and install a new security system. She returned to her father’s office and smiled. ‘Izzy, I miss you, but watch me. I will be the woman you wanted me to be.’ She often referred to her father as Izzy, but only because he’d wanted it that way. Yet it had never detracted from the fact that he’d been a doting father.
The sudden banging at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She hurried to the window to see if she recognized the car. It was Eric. She sighed: she’d so hoped for Mike to be standing there.
As soon as she opened the door, the sweet smell of aftershave hit her; it was the same as Mike’s. She was surprised to see Eric dressed immaculately, suited and booted, with his face glowing. Once he smiled, she noticed how white his teeth were, and his eyes, much like Mike’s, edged in thick black lashes, slowly blinked and almost lured her in.
‘I came because I was worried. Are you okay, babe?’
Zara was still taking in the sight. Eric was only ten months younger than Mike, yet, today, he looked ten years younger. The vision of her fiancé popped back into her head, sprawled across that sofa, baring his chest, and that awful Jennifer, with her arse on show. ‘Sorry, Eric. Come in.’
As he followed her into the study, he observed the state of the place. The last time he’d been actually inside this monstrosity of a house was the evening he went with his father to rescue her. Of course, so much was happening then that he hadn’t noticed the dated décor.
‘Does Mike know where I am?’ She got straight to the point.
‘Yes, I said you had a meeting. Oh, sorry, I hope you don’t mind?’
Zara took her seat and gave a tired, resigned look. ‘No, of course not.’ But she felt gutted all the same.
‘Did you have your meeting?’ he asked, in an even tone, not wanting her to think he was prying into her affairs.
She nodded. ‘Yeah, it seems that someone has a grudge. My arcades, my restaurants, they’re all being targeted, and, so far, no one knows who the culprits are.’
‘Let the Lanigans handle it. You need to get well. Look at you, babe. I bet you haven’t even eaten this morning, have ya?’
‘I’m fine, Eric.’
He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Come on, Zara, I’m taking you out for breakfast, and I won’t take no for an
answer.’
She was about to take his hand but realized she had her bag on the floor. Awkwardly, she pulled away and reached for the handle. Instead of allowing her to feel self-conscious, he took the bag and slid his arm around her shoulders. ‘Right. Full English or salmon and poached eggs? I know the perfect place to eat.’
His upbeat tone lightened Zara’s mood. She was hungry and feeling a tad light-headed.
Helping her into the car, she gritted her teeth. ‘This is so bloody frustrating, you know. I hate not being able to drive!’
Eric patted her shoulder and hurried to the driver’s seat. ‘There’s nothing to stop you driving,’ he replied, once he’d pulled away.
‘Er, in case you’ve forgotten, I only have one hand.’
Eric quipped, ‘Yep, babe, you do. And two legs and a set of teeth.’
‘But I can’t grip the wheel with my gnashers.’ She chuckled for the first time.
‘There are these gadgets that you add to your own car, to make it easier.’
Surprised by Eric’s remark, she asked, ‘How do you know that?’
He patted her knee and grinned. ‘Because I went and checked that out at the garage. I guessed you’d want to be in a position whereby your . . . Well, what I’m trying to say is that you obviously don’t want to be restricted. Ya know what I mean. So, if you’re looking to get a new car, my mate can sort all that out for you. I’ll give him the heads-up when you’re ready.’
Zara looked at his side profile and smiled. He really was looking out for her best interests and so maybe the decision to leave Gloria’s had been a bit hasty; they were such a kind and caring family.
‘Thanks, Eric. That’s really good of you. Can I ask you something?’
Eric smiled. ‘Anything. Fire away.’
‘I saw Mike in the lounge and that Jennifer was there. Er . . . ’ She struggled for the words to ask if he thought Mike was shagging the tart.
‘Yeah, I know . . . ’ He sighed heavily. ‘She’s a bit of a slapper at times. She’s a good girl but sex-mad, I think.’
He didn’t need to say any more. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. She fought to stop the tears in her eyes welling up again. ‘Do you think they . . . ?’
‘What? Listen, Zara. Mike loves you, you’re his fiancée, his real bird, but Mike is a man that spent twelve years inside.’
‘So, what you’re saying is he would take it if it was handed to him on a plate then?’
‘No, oh, I dunno. But you remember one thing. Mike loves you, and so if he did what you were just asking, he would’ve done it without any feelings. So, just you rest that niggling doubt of yours, and if I were you, I’d just leave it. Don’t push him away, Zara. Jackie had a real jealous streak, and it ruined their relationship. He hated her in the end . . . Er, not that I’m suggesting you’re anything like her, of course.’
Zara was now staring out of the side window, Eric’s words preying on her emotions and especially her own self-worth as a woman. She was so hurt that her whole body trembled, and she found herself too choked up to speak.
Just as they pulled up in Petts Wood Square, opposite the Daylight Inn, Zara wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. What the hell was she doing here? But it would look churlish to tell him to turn around and take her home. It was considerate of Eric to offer her some kindness, but sooner rather than later, she would have to get a grip and not let her feelings get in the way of her life. Forever a gentleman, Eric opened the passenger door and stepped aside as she clambered out.
‘Thanks, Eric,’ she said in a deflated tone.
‘Well, hello,’ came a deep voice from behind them.
Eric almost froze to the spot. Zara turned to see who owned that gravel voice. He was a well-built man, dressed in a dark suit with black, brooding eyes. He had to be at least the same size as Eric, and he was big.
Eric looked pale, and his confident expression vanished in a split second.
‘Hi, mate. All right?’ He tried to sound firm, but Zara noticed he seemed on edge.
‘Yeah, good as gold. So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?’
Zara raised her brow. That was an odd question, as Eric lived in Kent and this was his manor.
‘Just having a bit of breakfast. Yaself?’
The dark-eyed man gave him a cocky grin and then flicked his eyes to Zara. ‘I’m meeting someone special. So, who’s this lovely lady?’
Zara sensed the undertone in the man’s voice, and so she didn’t even attempt to introduce herself. Eric jumped in before she could, anyway. ‘This is a friend of mine, a school friend. Anyway, nice to see ya.’
Before the man had a chance to say another word, Eric ushered Zara away.
Once they were seated in the bistro, Eric stared out of the window, and as Zara followed his eyeline, she noticed the dark-eyed man glance back, laugh, and shake his head.
‘Who the hell was that, Eric?’
With the blood now drained from his face, Eric mumbled under his breath, ‘No one.’
Burying his head in the menu, Zara could only imagine he was gathering his thoughts because whoever that man was, it had Eric shitting hot bricks. She looked back out of the window to see him talking to a young woman with jet-black dyed hair and an oversized rucksack on her shoulder. She certainly looked too young to be a girlfriend. He was probably a pimp and Eric may have been a regular customer. Of course, Eric would have been mortified if the man had mentioned that.
She looked at the menu, and straightaway, she asked for a sweet tea and poached eggs on toast. She figured that way she could ease Eric’s embarrassment, as he could go up to the counter and not have to face her. He did exactly that.
***
Kendall was thrilled when she saw her father. He had stuck to his word and met her outside the pub. She wouldn’t have been surprised, though, if he’d found some excuse to call the arrangement off. He was certainly a difficult man to predict.
‘I wondered if you were saying I could have the flat, just to shut me up?’
‘Yeah, you got that right, but I said you can have it, so ’ere ya go. These are the keys. That one’ – he pointed to the larger key – ‘lets you through the downstairs door, and the other key opens your own front door.’
Taking the small bunch, she looked up at him and smiled. ‘Are you gonna show me around, then?’
‘Nope, I ain’t got time,’ he said coldly. ‘You wanted the flat, it’s all yours, but I bet within a week you’ll be back home with mummy, wanting your clothes washed and your dinners cooked.’ Without a hug or a goodbye, he walked away.
‘Dad, wait up! Don’t you want to spend any time with me, not even have a cup of tea in my new pad?’
With a mocking grin, he turned briefly, shaking his head. ‘Nope. I’ve got a shitload to do, so you check out the place.’ He laughed. ‘Be lucky, girl.’
As he strode away, Kendall felt a sudden need for attention. She hated feeling so dismissed by her father.
‘I know who Mother’s puppetmaster is!’
Stopping dead in his tracks, he paused and spun round and walked back to her. ‘You what?’ He looked annoyed, and, for a moment, Kendall wished she’d just let him continue on. ‘It’s Alastair. But I think the tables are turning because she told him that Uncle Conrad and Grandad were going to help her to win the election.’
With eyes like saucers, he glared. ‘Why the fuck are you telling me this?’
‘Er . . . I dunno, really. It’s just you said she was a puppet, and I kinda wondered what you meant. Well, listening to those two arguing, I guessed he must be pulling her strings.’
‘Well, if you like listening and spreading shit, do yaself a favour and get a job in that hairdressers.’ He pointed to the shop below her flat. ‘You can gossip all day and get fucking paid for it. Now then, I don’t wanna hear no more about ya mother, Alastair, or that grandfather of yours. Got it?’
Kendall as per usual was like a dog with a bone when she had a mind to be
. ‘What is it with you and them, huh? ’Cos it seems that your hatred goes deeper than Mother cheating on you.’
With his face flushed an angry red, he spat, ‘I never said I hate any of them. I just don’t want to fucking talk about them, and you, Kendall, need to stop trying to dig for information, ’cos I can tell you categorically there is none, and your shit-stirring will do you no fucking favours. Now, grow up. Ya got ya flat, so now learn to be a woman instead of a silly kid. Christ, I don’t need this shit!’ With that, he marched away, running his hands through his hair as if he was in pain.
Kendall decided to leave it there. She would show him, her mother, and anyone else who was interested, that she could live on her own and make something of herself, instead of being the MP’s daughter. In fact, she wanted to live the opposite of her mother’s way of life. Fuck the rules, fuck the law, and fuck the lot of them, she thought.
She waited until her father was out of sight and then made her way to the back of the shops. Apart from the large industrial bins, the back entrance was pretty tidy. Sliding the key into the main door, her heart beat fast in anticipation. This was it: this was her new life. She only hoped the flat was decent and presentable. The stairwell to her own dwelling was clean, so everything was looking very promising. So far, so good. Then she reached the top of the stairs and looked down at the number on the key; it was thirty-four. To the left was thirty-two and to her right was her new home – number thirty-four. The lock was stiff at first, and she had to jiggle the key about a bit until she felt it unlock.
Holding her breath, she pushed the door open. To her surprise, the small hallway was like new. It was fitted with an unstained beige carpet and unblemished cream walls. She hurried through, straight into the sitting room. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was large enough. A basic black leather sofa, a small flame-effect electric fire, a dated TV, and a small cabinet were the total contents of the room. The net curtains were plain but sufficient – not that anyone could see in unless they had a ladder. Next, she ventured into the kitchen, which consisted of just a plain, cheap white set of drawer cabinets, with an oven and a fridge. The bedroom was much the same in that it contained the bare essentials: there was a double bed, a cabinet, and a wardrobe.
