Intimate Strangers

by Susan Lewis

  ‘No, it would be lovely,’ she told him, not having the faintest idea whether she meant it or not. ‘What about Sherry? Is she coming with you?’

  There was a moment’s silence. ‘Actually, Sherry and I … Well, let’s just say she understands now that it’s not going anywhere between us.’

  Laurie put a hand to her head. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Not after what had happened between them. ‘You know, I’m really not sure what kind of company I’ll be …’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry about that,’ he interrupted. ‘We’ll have a good time, all of us. I’ll make sure of it. Now I’m going to go and break the news to Julia. She’ll be thrilled, she really took to you, you know.’

  As she rang off Laurie was still dazed by the call. She looked at Elliot and wondered when she was ever going to make sense of her life again.

  ‘I came here to offer to buy you out of the flat,’ he said bluntly. ‘But now I’m here …’

  She felt herself crumbling inside. Was there no end to this? It just seemed to go on and on and on. The woman had her man, her future, her dreams and now she wanted her home too. And he had been prepared to give it to her. ‘What’s happened to you, Elliot?’ she said quietly. ‘Just who have you turned into?’

  Looking as uncomfortable as she intended him to feel, he downed the rest of his wine and got to his feet. ‘I need to take some more clothes,’ he said. ‘Is it OK if I go and get them?’

  ‘No,’ she responded, ‘it isn’t. You can leave now, because frankly, I just want you out of my sight.’

  As he walked to the door it took every ounce of will-power she had not to run after him. It didn’t seem to matter how much she loathed and despised him, she still couldn’t stop loving him, though God knew she was going to try. From now on she was going to do everything in her power to free herself from this stranger, because he wasn’t worthy of her any more, not worthy at all.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  IT WAS WEDNESDAY afternoon. The anonymous, handwritten note that had been pushed under Sherry’s door late on Friday night was still sitting on her desk, where it had been since she’d picked it up early on Saturday morning. From the description the porter had given of the woman who’d delivered it, it could only have been Suzy, so the address must be where the women were being kept.

  Since receiving the note Sherry had spent the time mainly thinking, but also practising with a handheld camera and talking to the interpreter Stan had found. For herself she had reached the conclusion that her life simply couldn’t go on like this. The truth had to come out, and if the answers that had been steadily revealing themselves to her over the past few days could be made to work, then, in the next few days, everything, but everything, would be resolved.

  She’d just made a phone call to a lawyer. Her hand was still on the receiver, shaking slightly, while her eyes remained fixed on the note. The risk she was readying herself to take was enormous, and could easily backfire, but she was determined to go through with it anyway, because the way forward from here had been shown to her with such clarity, such obviousness and simplicity, that even if she wanted to, she couldn’t ignore it. All that was going to happen now was meant to be. She was in no doubt about that, or it wouldn’t have come to her in the way it had, or at the time it had. One way or another everyone was going to be taken care of – the women in captivity, the men who had put them there, Karima Ghosh, Laurie Forbes, Nick van Zant, Sherry MacElvoy and her mother, Isabell MacEvilly.

  The beauty of her plan was that no-one would be harmed by her hand, for never again could she take a human life. Her father’s face haunted her every minute of every day – the shock in his eyes the moment he’d realized what she’d done, the disappointment that had turned to understanding as he’d finally slumped to the ground. She would never forget, nor ever forgive, either herself or her mother, for it was her devoted, self-sacrificing mother who’d denied her the punishment she deserved and taken the blame for a crime she hadn’t committed.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, Sherry walked to the window and stared out. The tragedy of their existence was burning through her with a power she hadn’t known in so long. No-one had listened to her back then, though God knew she’d confessed enough times. They’d all believed she was trying to save her mother, when it had been the other way round. In the end, half-demented with frustration and the need to punish her mother as well as herself, she had sworn never to see Isabell again until she was prepared to tell the truth. She would let her rot in that prison and never visit her once. She would destroy all her letters and ignore all her calls. She would change her name, her job, even her country. She had ruined her mother’s life, taken from her the only man she’d ever loved, or ever would, and her mother wouldn’t allow her to pay.

  Had any mother ever loved a daughter more? Had any daughter ever suffered more for that love?

  She didn’t know, but she could guess, that her mother’s suicide threat had been to let her know that she would go to her grave with the truth, rather than see her daughter lose her freedom. So please come, my darling. Please don’t let this estrangement continue when we’re all each other has now. She could hear her mother saying it, even see the beseeching look in her eyes. Those eyes, so like her own, large and blue, full of kindness, yet tinged with pain. Always pain and the fear of when it would begin again. That was why Sherry had done what she had – she just hadn’t been able to stand seeing her mother hurt any more. In her mother’s view that made her guilty, not Sherry, because she should have hidden her pain, not shared it with a child who would feel it too. But Sherry had been an adult by then, and her father’s affairs had made her feel as though he was betraying her too. How could he say he loved them above anyone, or anything, then disappear for days, even weeks at a time with a stranger who was sometimes even younger than Sherry? Why would he want to spend time with anyone else, when he could be with them? His flower girls, as he’d called them.

  ‘We’re the Liliaceae family,’ he used to say. ‘Mummy is the bluebell, because they’re her favourites. You’re the lily because you always smell so good and I’m the onion that makes you cry.’

  She could hear his voice now, deep and soft, and as filled with unhappiness as it was with love.

  ‘I’m truly blessed by my flower girls,’ she’d heard him telling a friend on the phone on that fateful night, ‘but Bluebell’s depressions … The highs are as frightening as the lows now. I just don’t know how to handle her any more. I’ve stayed with her all these years, but living with someone like her, it’s not a marriage, it’s … I don’t know what it is. I only know that she’s sick. She needs help and as long as I’m here she won’t get it. She depends on me, it’s like she can’t exist without me, and I’ve got to tell you, there are times when it feels as though she’s sucking the lifeblood right out of me. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, I always will, but I’m no good for her, and I don’t want to sacrifice any more of my life. Since I met Jane I’ve realized what it is to be with a real woman. All the affairs, the girls, they were escapes, a bid to try and stay sane. This time it’s different. I just have to find a way to break it to Bluebell. I considered asking Lily to do it for me, but that’s the coward’s way out. She might be an adult now, but we’re still her parents, and I know this is going to be a blow for her too. Knowing her, she’ll move back into the house to take care of her mother, but if she has any sense she’ll make poor Bluebell get the help she needs, which is what I should have done years ago.’

  Maybe if her mother hadn’t been listening too things wouldn’t have gone the way they had, but seeing the fear and devastation in those childlike eyes, then listening in the privacy of their pool house to how she hated herself for what she’d done to her husband, how she deserved to suffer for ruining his life, had just been too much for Sherry to bear. If he left for good her mother’s life would be over. She would go into a decline and never come back. Sherry couldn’t let it happen. She had to stop him.


  Her intention, in those crazed few minutes when she went to get the gun, was to kill them all, her father, her mother and herself. They would die together, and be bound in eternity for ever. But after she pulled the trigger, and saw her father looking back at her with his shocked, then understanding eyes, she just hadn’t been able to do it again. For several seconds she and her mother had merely stood there, frozen in horror as they stared down at him, watching the life draining out of him, until his eyes closed for the last time. Then, quite suddenly, her mother had grabbed the gun and fired two more shots. They weren’t the shots that had killed him though, it was the one Sherry fired that had done that.

  Next to her the phone started to ring. She looked at it and blinked. Coming back to the present, she found her thoughts going instantly to Nick. She knew it wouldn’t be him, but it was hard to stop the hope, even though it died almost as quickly as it came to life. Her next thought was of Laurie. Hatred welled up in her, triggering every violent impulse she had.

  Each time she pictured Laurie’s face now, she wanted to crush it. She’d had several calls from her over the weekend, but hadn’t returned them. She’d never speak to Laurie again. She’d slept with Nick. No friend should ever do that to another. There were no excuses, no way it could be forgiven. But it wasn’t only about Laurie and Nick, it was about her and her mother. It was about justice and following the right path when it opened up, even though she was afraid of taking it. It was about the women secreted away at that scribbled address and doing what she could to rescue them. She just prayed that one or two more nights of abuse wouldn’t make a difference after so many.

  Hearing Stan’s voice, she lifted the receiver and cut into his message. ‘I’m here,’ she told him.

  ‘Good. Right. I’ve checked out the address you gave me, and it’s where they are all right. No way of getting in unless we bribe the guard. It already cost me a ton for him to admit they was there.’

  ‘How much for us to get in?’ she queried.

  ‘He’s asking for a grand and he don’t want to be nowhere around when it happens. So we got to give him some notice – and cash upfront.’

  ‘I can have it in an hour,’ she told him. ‘Can you take it to him?’

  ‘No prob.’

  ‘So when do we go in?’

  ‘No point hanging about. Let’s go in tonight.’

  So soon. She hadn’t expected it to happen for at least another day. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ve got the camera. Call the interpreter and I’ll meet you both at the office at seven. Oh, and listen. Don’t mention any of this to Laurie. If she knows we’ve found the women she won’t go to Hydra, and for obvious reasons she needs to be away this weekend.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ Stan replied. ‘See you at seven.’

  After ringing off Sherry checked her address book and dialled the number of the New Road workshop. Karima Ghosh’s recorded voice came down the line asking the caller to leave a message. Sherry waited for the beep, then said, ‘This is Sherry MacElvoy. Please inform Mr Cribbs that I will be at his apartment in Cinnabar Wharf tomorrow morning at ten. It would be a good idea for him to be there too.’

  Mota Ben had never told them before what was going to happen, but this morning when she had come, her eyes full of hate, her voice ladling bitterness, she had told them about the men who were going to make films. She had taken much pleasure in describing what kind of films – the kind that would show them being tortured in many violent and terrible ways, until they were no more.

  But not Shaila. Something else was going to happen to Shaila, but Mota Ben wouldn’t tell them what.

  Now Shaila was clinging to Neela, her tiny body trembling with terror every time a sound came from the stairs outside. The other women were quaking too, staring at the door, or praying, or weeping in each other’s arms.

  Neela watched them. Ten terrified and helpless faces. Ten spirits trapped inside their weak female bodies. There was nothing they could do to save themselves. They were at the mercy of Mota Ben and strangers who were going to abuse and torment their innocent flesh until their spirits could hold on no longer.

  Her gaze moved to Ekta. Ekta’s head was down, but Neela knew she was praying for guidance and strength. Earlier she had offered the women their only way out. She would help them, she’d told them, and those who didn’t want to do it must find it in themselves to help too. She was waiting now for each of them to come to a decision. Neela had already come to hers – she would ask Ekta to put the pillow over her and Shaila’s faces together, so that their spirits would be released at the same time. She couldn’t ask yet, because Shaila was holding on too tight, and she didn’t want the child to hear.

  One by one the women began to get up from their mattresses to go and whisper in Ekta’s ear. After a while they talked openly, because it became clear that no-one wanted to stay, they all wanted Ekta to help them to go. Ekta was a very brave woman to be able to do this, Neela was thinking, but what would happen to Ekta herself? Who would be left to put a pillow over Ekta’s face, if Ekta did it for everyone else?

  Later, when Shaila was finally sleeping, Neela whispered her question to Ekta.

  Ekta’s face was sad but strong as she said, ‘I will find a way for myself. After I have helped you all it will be easy to follow.’

  ‘I will do it with you,’ Neela told her. ‘I will hold their hands and pray to the Lord Shiva to speed them on their way.’

  Ekta lifted a hand to stroke her face. ‘Bahoo merbani,’ she whispered. Thank you.

  One of the women started to wail. ‘Naa, naa.’ No. No.

  Ekta and Neela looked up, then they heard the sound too. Something was happening outside the door. The sounds were different from those they were used to. They didn’t know what they were.

  Neela returned swiftly to her mattress and scooped Shaila into her arms. Ekta came too, and huddled in front of them to shield them from harm. The other women clung to each other, whimpering and moaning. Had they come already? Was there going to be no time to set themselves free?

  Neela was daring to hope a miracle was happening. Maybe it wasn’t the men, maybe it was someone sent by the gracious and forgiving Lord Shiva to save them. But then the door was opening, and seeing the woman with a camera Neela, like the others, began to scream.

  Laurie was on the mezzanine of her flat, holding the phone as she stared blankly out at the night. After waiting for Sherry’s recorded message to finish, she said, ‘Hi, it’s Laurie. I was hoping to speak to you before I leave in the morning, so if you get this message please call me back. I’ll be up quite late, or you can get me before nine in the morning.’ She paused, wanting to say more, but a voicemail wasn’t the way to do it, so she hung up and went back to her packing.

  A while later she was sitting on the edge of the bed wondering if she should try Sherry again. It was too much to hope that they might be able to clear the air over Nick, particularly now he’d decided to go to Hydra too – which hopefully Sherry knew nothing about, or their friendship really was doomed. She just didn’t want to go away without finding out how the story was progressing. As the producer it would be highly irresponsible of her to do that, and under any other circumstances she’d be storming round there now to find out what was going on. Knowing how sensitive Sherry had been lately, though, and how badly she had handled things herself, she wasn’t at all sure what she should do.

  In the end she phoned Rhona, who was finally back from her author jaunt around London. ‘It’s all such a mess,’ she complained. ‘I don’t want her to think I’m interfering, or that I don’t trust her, but surely she realizes I have to know what’s going on.’

  ‘You’re presuming she’s avoiding you,’ Rhona responded, ‘but actually, she’s not in.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘There are no lights on. I’ll go and knock if you like. Or I can check with the porter to see if he saw her going out.’

  ‘Try the porter. I’ll hang on.’

  As she waited she coul
d hear Rhona speaking on the intercom, and the porter’s voice telling her Sherry had gone out around seven.

  ‘So where is she now?’ Laurie wanted to know when Rhona came back on the line. ‘It’s gone eleven.’

  ‘You sound like her mother. Maybe she’s out with Nick.’

  ‘I wish, but he more or less told me it was over, and besides he’s taking the ten o’clock flight to Athens, so he’s already gone. Have you seen her at all in the last couple of days? I’ve lost count of how many messages I’ve left.’

  ‘I saw her this morning, briefly. She was on her way to your office.’

  ‘Did she mention anything about the story? Or about Nick?’

  ‘It was just a quick good morning. We were both on our way out, going in opposite directions. Does she know Nick’s going to Hydra?’

  ‘I hope not. I’m sure he wouldn’t tell her. To be honest, I wish he wasn’t.’

  ‘You don’t have to see him once we’re there.’

  ‘It’s a small island, so it’ll be hard not to.’ She sighed wearily. ‘I don’t seem to have a proper grip on anything right now,’ she said, ‘so I guess I should just take myself off to bed. If you do happen to see her, make sure she calls me back.’

  A few minutes later the phone rang, and praying it was Sherry she grabbed it up. ‘Hi, Sherry?’

  ‘No. Rachel.’

  Laurie deflated, even as her heart twisted, for Rachel was just one removed from Elliot. ‘I was hoping you were Sherry,’ she told her.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you. I was just calling to wish you bon voyage tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks. I suppose I should be wishing you the same, for Friday.’

  ‘There’s a chance we have to delay until Saturday,’ Rachel said. ‘An interested client who’s only in town for the next two days. Have you heard anything from Elliot?’