by Susan Lewis
Laurie’s eyes were large as she saw Daya’s lovely face in her mind, those little hands, the birdlike body, the hidden, unthinkable injuries. Why hadn’t she taken her? Why hadn’t she just acted on her instinct and to hell with what came later? It could never be worse than this.
‘You still there?’ Barry said.
‘Yes.’
‘I better let you go now. We’ll talk in the morning.’
Laurie’s face was pale as she clicked off the line.
‘Laurie?’ Rose said, noticing. ‘Are you all right?’
Laurie’s eyes came up. ‘It’s Daya … They found out she talked. Barry thinks they’ve … got rid of her.’
‘Oh my God,’ Rose murmured.
Laurie dashed a hand to her head. ‘It’s my fault,’ she murmured. ‘I should have…’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Rose cut in, getting to her feet. ‘You were trying to help.’
Laurie looked at Elliot as he came out of his study. ‘What is it?’ he said, surprised by the silence.
‘It’s the Indian girl Laurie spoke to earlier,’ Rose told him.
His expression was blank. ‘What about her?’
Rose glanced at Laurie as she said, ‘We’re thinking the worst.’
His eyebrows went up. ‘Oh,’ he said flatly.
Suddenly Laurie lost it. ‘Oh!’ she seethed, flinging the phone against the wall. ‘Is that all you can say? The wretched girl’s probably dead. It could be my fault, and all you can say is, oh!’
‘What the hell do you want me to say?’ he shouted back. ‘I don’t know her. You don’t even know any details …’
‘How do you know? You haven’t even asked. No! Don’t say any more. Just don’t say anything. You’re not interested in anything I do, so I’ll deal with the fact that a poor, defenceless young girl has probably been dumped in the Thames, or buried in some concrete, thanks to me, while you …’
‘Laurie, we don’t know that for certain,’ Rose interrupted, attempting to calm things down.
‘Nor does he. But what the hell would he care anyway? It’s all about him these days. Him and that fucking project that’s going to get us all killed if he doesn’t damned well let it go.’
Elliot was striding towards her, and grabbing her he pulled her across the kitchen, into the utility room. ‘Stop it!’ he growled, holding her tight. ‘Just stop. The Phraxos affair is over. We’re not doing anything to break the agreement, so stop getting yourself worked up like this.’
Sobbing almost uncontrollably she covered her face with her hands and sat down on one of the boxes behind her. ‘I love you,’ she choked. ‘I love you so much, but I’m so afraid.’
‘There’s nothing to be afraid of,’ he told her sharply.
‘Isn’t there?’ She looked up at him. ‘Are you sure about that?’
It took several moments but finally his expression started to soften. ‘I’m sure,’ he said, and kneeling down in front of her he held her hands in his. ‘It’s going to be all right,’ he told her gently. ‘I promise. Everything will be all right.’
She wanted to believe him, with all her heart she wanted to believe him, but though the words rang true there was something in his tone, or maybe it was in her instincts, that was telling her that it – whatever it was – was going to be anything but all right.
Chapter Three
‘SHERRY? IT’S AUNT Jude. How are you, dear?’
Sherry’s fingers paused in their race over the keyboard. Aunt Jude. Warm, mellow, Aunt Jude. A box of soft-centred chocolates; sunlight on a cloudy day; the scratchy sound of a seventy-eight record; the feel of safety on a stormy night. Always a reminder of the past.
She continued to type, speaking into the headset. ‘I’m fine,’ she answered fondly. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m well. I’ve been thinking about you, and reading your columns. They’re always very good.’
‘Thank you.’ Sherry swallowed. She loved her aunt, but sometimes there was a part of her that wished she didn’t exist. ‘I’m going to try to get down there to see you in the next couple of weeks,’ she said.
‘That’ll be nice. You know how we love to see you. Uncle John’s taking care of your vegetable patch. We’ve got some nice spring onions coming through at the moment.’
‘My favourite,’ Sherry replied. ‘How are the tomatoes doing?’
‘Should be a bumper crop this year. We’ll probably have to give some away.’
‘The neighbours’ll be pleased.’ There was a pause as she tried to think of something else to say.
Eventually her aunt said, ‘Did you get the letter, dear?’ It was what this call was really about.
‘Yes,’ Sherry answered.
‘Did you read it?’
‘No.’ She took a breath. ‘I’m really sorry, Aunt Jude. I wish …’
‘Don’t apologize, dear. I understand. But I thought you should know, I had a call last night from Bluebell’s …’
‘I don’t want to know, Aunt Jude. I really don’t.’
‘I think you should, dear. There’s been a suicide attempt. I think that’s what the letter was about. It was a pity you didn’t read it.’
Sherry’s breath had stopped at ‘suicide’. Now her heart was pounding, as grotesque and horrific images stampeded through her mind.
‘It wasn’t successful,’ Aunt Jude continued.
Sherry was barely listening. She was mentally focusing on the letter now, imagining that flimsy blue rectangle tumbling down through the chute, to join the pile of trash below. It seemed a metaphor of what might have happened to its writer if the suicide attempt had succeeded.
‘Sherry? Are you all right? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. Yes,’ she answered, quickly collecting herself. ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Jude,’ she said abruptly. ‘I wish I could stay and talk, but I have to meet someone at one, and it’s almost that.’
‘All right, dear. If you need to talk, you know where I am.’
After ringing off Sherry instantly blanked the call from her mind. She’d had plenty of practice at doing that over the past seven years, so it wasn’t difficult now. In fact, the more time that passed, the more expert she was becoming. It was a survival technique, a necessary function for a mind that would never be able to bear the horror if it hadn’t found a way of detaching, even shutting down completely on events that would forever remain irreversible – unless the truth was finally told. But Bluebell wouldn’t do it. The suicide attempt had just shown that she was prepared to go to her grave with what she knew.
After finishing the article she’d been composing before the call, she attached it to an email, and was about to rush out the door when someone rang the bell downstairs. The sound made her jump, proving the call had left her edgier than she’d want to admit, but it would fade, it always did.
‘Hi, it’s me! Anita!’ the voice announced over the intercom. ‘Can I come up?’
‘I’m on my way down. Give me two minutes.’
When Sherry emerged onto the street it was to find Anita clad in her usual professional black and looking fit to burst. ‘I’m so excited, I just had to tell someone,’ she gushed, combing her hands down either side of her long, dark hair.
Sherry stooped to check the tubs of geraniums that sat either side of the main door. ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
‘The boy has paid back the money he owes me.’
Sherry blinked. A cause for relief, certainly, but for such untold pleasure? ‘I’m very happy for you,’ she responded, giving a wave to one of her elderly neighbours who was sitting on a bench just inside the park opposite.
‘Well, it’s all down to you,’ Anita informed her, falling in beside her as she walked. ‘I’ve been following your advice and now I’ve virtually got him eating out of my hand. I mean, he really cares about me, I know that, but it’s time he realized it too, and I think he’s starting to.’
‘What advice was that?’ Sherry said, mystified.
‘I
read it in your column. Let him think there might be someone else on the scene and if he’s really interested you’ll see things starting to change.’
Sherry blinked again. This was like teaching a nuclear physicist how to add up. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she finally murmured.
‘Me neither,’ Anita cried, throwing out her hands. ‘But it’s fantastic. It works.’
Sherry stopped and eyed her warily. ‘You’re kidding me, right?’ she said.
‘No. I’ve got the cheque here, in my bag.’
Deciding the only sensible response was to stop and smell the roses outside Boodle’s, the restaurant, Sherry was about to walk on when the owner carried out a blackboard showing the day’s menu. They exchanged pleasantries, Sherry praised the flowers, then glanced at her watch.
‘So where are you going?’ Anita asked, her heels wobbling slightly as they continued along the cobbled street.
‘I’m meeting Laurie at the Grapes.’
‘So how is she?’
‘Stressed.’
‘Hardly surprising. Are you going to the wedding?’
‘Yes. Alone, of course.’
‘You’ll meet someone there.’
‘I thought you were a psychologist, not an astrologist?’
Anita chuckled and allowed a few moments to pass. ‘So are you still smarting about revealing all at dinner the other night?’ she teased.
Sherry grimaced and laughed. ‘Don’t remind me, because yes, I am. Not that I actually revealed everything …’
‘When do you ever?’
‘I just told them about Nick, that’s all.’
‘Which is nothing to be embarrassed about.’
‘Except it’s seven years out of date. I could have better used the time to try and impress Elliot into giving me a job.’
‘I don’t understand why you’ve never asked Laurie to put in a word for you.’
‘Because she’s offered me a job herself, and it would be a bit of an insult, wouldn’t it, if I said not with you, but with your boyfriend. Soon to be husband. Actually, she might even get the wrong idea. Anyway, right now it’s a moot point, because she’s so snowed under I’ve agreed to help her out with the story she’s working on – which is why we’re meeting for lunch. If it weren’t for that, I’d invite you to join us.’
‘It’s OK. I was only passing. I’ve an appointment at one thirty.’ She threw Sherry a sidelong glance. ‘Is that a relief?’ she challenged softly.
Sherry’s head came round. ‘What do you mean?’
Anita only smiled, then quickly threw out an arm to hail a passing cab. ‘I’ll call you later,’ she said, embracing her. ‘Have a good lunch.’
As the taxi pulled away Sherry was left staring across the street towards the large, curved windows of Laurie’s office, where Rose and two of the production team were clearly visible. Anita’s comment was still echoing in her ears, causing her to wonder if she was being too exclusive about Laurie and Rhona, and not including Anita enough. If she was, she should try to do something about it, because she definitely didn’t want to hurt Anita’s feelings.
Waving back as Laurie signalled for her to go on into the pub, she turned to push open the door and stepped into the hot, smoky mayhem. After managing to secure them a table, at the river end of the bar, she ordered herself a tonic water and started to study a menu she knew almost by heart. She’d got no further than piemash and chips when Laurie slumped down in the chair opposite.
‘Thank God,’ she gasped, sounding breathless. ‘It’s a madhouse over there with them going away at the weekend, and everything else in my life in a state of uproar. I almost wish I was going with them, but don’t tell Elliot I said that.’
Sherry grinned. ‘Things still tense?’ she said.
‘I’m told it’s normal in the lead-up to a wedding. Oh Jack, my hero,’ she declared, as one of the barmen brought her a vodka and tonic.
‘Well, if it’s any help, you’re looking pretty good,’ Sherry told her, as they clinked glasses.
‘I’ve lost weight. About seven pounds, apparently, which is not sitting well with the dressmaker.’ She laughed and growled. ‘Is there no-one I can please at the moment?’ she cried. ‘What with her, Elliot, my mother, my father, the vicar, Rose … Just thank God for you, agreeing to help out on this story. Elliot said you would.’
Sherry’s eyebrows rose, as her heart gave a beat of pleasure. ‘He did?’
‘It was his idea, though I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it myself.’
‘I never thought he took me seriously as a journalist.’
‘Then you’re wrong, because he’s got a lot of respect for you. We all have. Just because you seem determined to hide your light under the fluff that pays you so well, it doesn’t mean we don’t see what you do from time to time in the more serious press. So, believe me, we’re pretty aware of what you’d be capable of, given half a chance, which Rose and I have long been willing to do.’
Sherry’s eyes were shining.
‘The point is,’ Laurie continued, ‘we feel we can trust you. That’s a big plus in anyone’s book, especially in this field.’ She cast her a teasing look. ‘We can, can’t we?’
Sherry laughed delightedly. ‘A hundred per cent,’ she assured her. ‘And I’m touched to have earned such confidence. I promise it won’t be misplaced.’ Was this a good time, she wondered, to mention her interest in joining Elliot’s team? Maybe not, but she was certainly being presented with a perfect opportunity to prove herself, thanks to Laurie, for whom she felt so much affection just then it was hard to hold it back. Looking down at her glass, she picked it up. ‘So how’s the bridegroom doing in the stress department?’ she asked, feeling it time to get off the subject of herself.
Laurie sighed and groaned. ‘I honestly don’t know what’s going on with him,’ she answered. ‘He keeps disappearing. Either into his study, to the office, or to heaven only knows where. He’s supposed to be writing a book, for God’s sake. The publishers have advanced him a fortune.’
‘So what do you think he’s up to?’
‘I’ve got no idea. It’s just not like him to be this … secretive, at least not with me.’ She took another gulp of her drink. ‘You know what I’m starting to think? That he doesn’t want to go through with this wedding.’
Sherry rolled her eyes. ‘Somehow I knew you were going to say that,’ she responded, ‘and I’m telling you now, you’re wrong. Of course he wants to go through with it – he’s just being a man. Most of them hate weddings, especially Elliot’s type, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to marry you.’
‘So should I call the wedding off, tell him we’ll go away somewhere, just the two of us, no fuss?’
Sherry shrugged. ‘What about your mother? She’d be devastated.’
Laurie shuddered and covered her face with her hands. ‘It’s a nightmare,’ she wailed. ‘An utter bloody nightmare. I’ve never felt so strung out. I’m just not myself. Something’s going on somewhere, in my psyche, in the stars, that’s making me feel as though …’ Her breath caught on what almost sounded like a sob. She looked at Sherry, her eyes suddenly swimming in tears. ‘I keep wishing Lysette were still alive,’ she said, haltingly. ‘Well, of course I wish she were alive, how could I not … But if she were, would Elliot and I …? No, don’t let’s go there. Lysette’s gone, and though I sometimes feel like she took half of me with her, I have to accept that’s what it’s like being the twin of someone who ended her own life.’
Sherry’s heart was filling up with this second tremendous honour Laurie was paying her, in discussing a matter that was so intensely personal and obviously still painful. However, providing comfort and understanding was something she was very skilled at. ‘This is a very emotional time,’ she said gently, covering Laurie’s hand with her own. ‘It’s natural that you’d be thinking about your sister now, and feeling this way.’
Laurie nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Has Rhona ever told you w
hat happened?’
‘Some of it, not all.’
‘She used to be Elliot’s girlfriend, did you know that?’
Sherry nodded.
Laurie’s eyes went down as she swallowed the rising lump in her throat. ‘She called me, the night he finished their relationship,’ she said hoarsely. ‘She needed me then, but I wouldn’t let her come.’ Her mouth trembled. ‘I can hear her voice now,’ she whispered, ‘begging me, please, Laurie, please, I have to see you, but I wouldn’t give in. I couldn’t. It felt wrong to be comforting her, when I knew I was in love with him myself, and the truth was, I wanted their relationship to end. She didn’t know that, at least I don’t think she did. I didn’t want her to be hurt, obviously I didn’t … I loved her … She was the world to me. Oh God, it was such a mess, Sherry. You can’t believe how awful it was. He told her there was someone else, and for one crazy, awful moment, I thought it might be me. But it wasn’t. He’d told her that because he couldn’t think of another way to make her accept it was over.’ After a moment her head came up and she tried to force a smile. ‘I miss her so much … So much, I can’t put it into words. Yet sometimes I wonder if she’s looking down on me and hating me for what I’m doing, marrying Elliot, taking what was hers … But if you knew her, Sherry … She was an angel. She could never hate anyone, especially not me. We were so close. It was as though I lost a part of myself when she went … Oh God, I’m sorry, I can’t seem to stop crying.’
‘It’s all right,’ Sherry assured her. ‘I felt the same way when my parents died. And if you want to cry, just cry.’
Laurie looked at her, her eyes showing gratitude. ‘How do you get over it?’ she asked brokenly.
Sherry sighed. ‘The truth is, you don’t, really,’ she answered. ‘You just learn how to live with it. Does Elliot ever talk about her? Do you know how he’s feeling now?’
‘Not really. We used to discuss it, but it happened three years ago. Life moves on.’
‘Did you have any counselling at the time? Either of you?’
