The Voice Within

by Roger Penfound

  "We had a fight. He's gone now."

  He wanted to ask her what the fight was about and why her husband had tried to kill her. But it was too soon. He must let her tell the story in her own time.

  "I suppose you want to know why we fought?"

  He didn't reply. Instead he placed his hands over hers.

  "I knew the antiques were dodgy. I've known that for a time."

  "What do you mean 'dodgy'?"

  "Stolen to order – for wealthy clients abroad. Not all of them. The best pieces. The most expensive."

  "So what happened?"

  "He told me it was just for a short while, until the market picked up. I wanted to believe him. But then his behaviour started to change. He was unpredictable, sometimes violent. I began to suspect he was dealing."

  "You mean drugs?"

  "Yes. They were using the furniture to ship the cocaine out. It's smuggled in by boat at night along remote parts of the coast. This place is a distribution centre. My job is to stay here keeping things looking normal whilst he's away. But he didn't like me going out. He thought it was too risky. So I lived like a recluse."

  "What brought things to a head today?"

  "You."

  "Me? How do you mean?"

  He was having me watched. He knew we'd had lunch together and he knew you'd stayed overnight. He accused me of betraying him."

  "And then he tried to kill you. He tried to gas you?"

  "No. No, he didn't. He would never do that."

  "But ..."

  "I did that, after he'd gone. I've had enough. I wanted it to end. It's gone on too long."

  "So, you turned on the gas?"

  "I took some drugs – amphetamines. They should have been enough to kill me but I turned on the gas just in case."

  "You could have blown the house up. It was like a bomb waiting to go off."

  "I think I've had enough of this world, Douglas. I'm ready to move on."

  He moved round the table and threw his arms around her.

  "But what about us Julia? It's just beginning. There's hope. A new start for us both." She looked directly at him. In her eyes he saw pain.

  "We can never escape the past, Douglas. It will always continue to live with us."

  "Come with me, Julia – tomorrow. I don't think we should stay in this house. Let's go to Bude. There's a great hotel there. We need to spend some time in the present – away from all of this."

  "But you've got your own problems – your son, the court case. I'll just get in the way."

  "Tonight my priority is you."

  He kissed her tear-stained cheek and pulled her close to him. Their lips met and their passion intensified as they held each other tight.

  A vibration in his pocket. A muffled ring.

  "Shit!"

  "What's the matter?"

  "A text. I'd better read it. It may be Nick."

  "Is it Nick?"

  "No. It's Winston. He's my solicitor. The police are going to arrest me."

  Chapter 18: Bude, April 28th 2011

  The journey to Bude the next morning was marred by heavy rainfall which lashed the coast road, causing Doug to abandon any attempt at conversation as he concentrated on driving. When they finally arrived, the sun broke through the cloud easing the resort out of its damp lethargy. People appeared on the streets again and traders began to re-open their stalls. They parked the car and walked onto the beach. A fresh sea breeze whipped round them as they made their way along the sand.

  "Julia, we need to make some plans," suggested Doug. "You can't go back to that house and live alone. If your husband returns, you could be in danger."

  "Richard won't be back for some weeks. He's gone abroad."

  "Where does he go?"

  "Mostly Europe. I don't ask. He'll call me when he's ready to come back."

  "But surely you won't let him? He may harm you again."

  They stopped and sat on an upturned boat by the water's edge watching the surfers battling the foaming sea.

  "I can't leave the house, Doug. Not permanently."

  "Why ever not?"

  She stared out to sea, seeming to search for words that were elusive. He sensed pain.

  "Has something happened? Something you don't want to talk about."

  He saw that tears were trickling down her cheeks and her body was beginning to heave with convulsive sobs. He held her tight.

  "I'm so very sorry. I should never have asked. It's nothing at all to do with me. Please forgive me."

  He used a clean handkerchief to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  "You're not the only one who hears voices, you know."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The house. I hear voices too."

  "Do you mean Kate?"

  "No, I hear my child. It's how I stay in touch with her."

  "I didn't know you had a child."

  "I don't anymore – well, not in this world. But I did. Richard and I had a little girl – Sarah."

  Doug felt a shiver run down his spine.

  "What happened to her?"

  "She died eight years ago. She had a problem with her lungs. The doctors told us that she'd live longer if we moved her out of London. That's the main reason we came down here. I didn't tell you the complete truth."

  "So what happened then?"

  "She lasted for two more years and then she slipped away. She was five years old when she died."

  "Julia, I'm so terribly sorry. You must miss her dreadfully."

  "But that's the point. I still speak to her – in the house. We have a connection."

  "You mean you have memories?"

  "No. She's alive. She's thirteen now. And very happy. Very sweet. She comes to me two or three times a week. I only hear her in the house – nowhere else. So, you see, I couldn't possibly leave."

  "What does your husband think?"

  "Oh, Richard thinks I'm crazy. He doesn't hear her. But then he always wants to know what she's said. You see, like me, he can't let go. It's like a thin cord that still binds us to her. It's why we have to stay in the house – to protect that fragile link."

  Doug chose his words with care.

  "I think it's wonderful that Sarah talks to you, Julia. I think that when people leave us, they never really go. Something of that person always remains."

  They were walking along the beach now, away from the town. There were fewer people, less noise.

  "When Sarah was ill, I spent all my time with her. I never left her alone. When that happens, I think your minds fuse in some way – they become one. Towards the end she was too ill to talk but we'd still sit together and have long conversations in our minds. Words ceased to be a barrier. We didn't need them."

  They walked on in silence, holding hands. There was a lot that Doug wanted to ask Julia but he knew that this was a very personal and private experience and not one he could share with her. The drone of a motor turned their attention to the sea. Skimming low over the waves was a light plane towing a banner. It read:

  'Happy Birthday Margaret. Love You. Ben'

  Suddenly, they felt themselves dragged back to the present. They laughed at Ben's extravagant gesture and their mood lifted. Doug chased Julia along the sand before rugby tackling her to the ground. She shouted out but he silenced her by sealing her lips with his. Afterwards, they lay on their backs studying the wispy clouds which hurried across the sky, casting impatient shadows over the wet sand.

  "This has all been about me. What about you? I want to know what trouble you're in."

  Doug yawned, partly because his sleep had been fitful and partly because he dreaded explaining things.

  "Let's get back to the hotel and I'll tell you over lunch."

  They booked into The Surfer and managed to secure a superior room for one night. The temperature was just high enough to allow them to dine outside on the terrace. After they'd ordered a light lunch with wine, Julia pressed her question again.

  "So, why are you being pursued by the p
olice? I thought they'd already interviewed you."

  "It's getting bigger, Julia. The stakes have been raised. It started off as just one rogue journalist hacking into celebrities' phones. But when they discovered that a murdered girl's mobile had also been hacked into there was a public outcry. It set one national daily against another. The broadsheets blamed the tabloids for developing a culture of snooping and eavesdropping. So then the tabloids hit back and blamed the broadsheets for bribing public officials to leak information. Then the Government jumped in and said that no one was above the law. So they set up two investigations –­ 'Weeting' to look into phone hacking and 'Elveden' to look into illegal payments."

  "But surely it's down to the bosses, the owners. They're the ones who are responsible."

  "The trouble is that the newspaper proprietors are closely linked in with the politicians. They move in the same circles, attend the same parties, they become godparents to each other's children. It's a very incestuous world they inhabit. Don't forget that the present government owes its election to the tabloids. The Nation's Voice changed allegiance half way through the campaign because of the economic crisis. Halshaw personally backed the PM. That probably tipped the balance."

  "So, how come the blame's sticking to you?"

  "Not just me – there are six of us altogether from across the industry. We're all at editor level. That means the buck stops with us in our departments – or that's what the management will claim. We're the scapegoats, the sacrificial lambs. We can be slaughtered and the public lust for blood will be satisfied."

  "But you've served that paper for years. You must have friends, people who will stand up for you?"

  "Under the old regime – yes. When Hargreaves was owner, there was a loyalty which went both ways. He was a newspaper man. He'd grown up in the industry. Started as a reporter like me on local papers. But he was clever. Got into the emerging free newspaper paper business in the mid '70s and made a fortune. That's what enabled him to buy The Nation's Voice in '84."

  "And you liked him?"

  "He was a hard man but he was fair. He understood journalism. He understood that to get a story you had to take some risks. And sometimes things go wrong. But he would support you if he thought you were genuinely working in the paper's interests. And on top of all that, he knew what was going on in his paper. He would never have allowed one of his reporters to hack into a dead girl's phone."

  "So, what happened to him?"

  "He died in 2005. Massive heart attack. He was the major shareholder and the family decided to sell. There was an attempt at a management buyout but it never really got off the ground. So the newly ennobled Lord Halshaw started sniffing around. He was formerly a banker. Made his money out of asset stripping – buying up companies and selling the assets to the highest bidder. In the mid '90s that was all the rage. By the millennium he had made a fortune. So he started flirting in political circles. Then he started making donations – small at first but he began to get noticed. Within a couple of years he was a regular at those parties I spoke of. Divorced his wife and took up with a string of trophy partners – actresses, minor nobility, that sort of thing. Then in 2004 he made a big donation to the current lot and was rewarded with his peerage."

  "So why did he buy the paper?"

  "Power, influence, control. He had the politicians where he wanted them – in his pocket. They needed his support to stay in office, especially through the recession. Remember the coalition was very wobbly in the early days. One outspoken feature in The Nation's Voice could have brought it tumbling down."

  "But surely you know enough to tip the balance. You're a journalist, can't you expose the hypocrisy?"

  Doug reluctantly explained the expenses issue and how it was being used to keep him silent. He tried to fend off her disapproval by explaining that there were long held traditions in journalism of 'cutting corners' but it was all done in the interests of a free and unshackled press. He wasn't sure that he'd convinced her.

  After lunch they went up to their room to unpack. For the first time, in this neutral territory they were aware of being alone as lovers. With its rich furnishings, king-sized bed and cocktail cabinet, the room had an uncomfortably expectant feel about it.

  "We haven't really discussed this – I mean the two of us sharing a room together," said Julia, as she lay a crumpled nightdress on the bed and rearranged the creases. "It's all happened a bit fast. We don't really know each other."

  "I hadn't really thought about it," replied Doug, looking slightly taken aback. "I mean, events seem to have just taken over and – well, here we are."

  Julia grabbed hold of the nightdress and began pushing it back into her bag.

  "Maybe this is wrong, Douglas. We both feel threatened – vulnerable. That's why this is happening. Maybe we should ..."

  Doug held her by the shoulders, and looked hard into her blue eyes.

  "Julia, my darling. We may not have courted like teenagers but we've been thrown together by life into this evolving drama. In the few days we've known each other you've rescued me from some psychic nightmare of my own making and I've rescued you from an abusive husband. We've shared some weird experiences and we've grown to trust each other. We've also made love."

  She looked at him, studying his face.

  "So, which was best?" she asked with a fleeting hint of mischief. He laughed. They kissed and held each other close. Then Julia went to shower, leaving Doug to check his text messages. As he expected, there was one from Winston.

  'Douglas, this is serious. You must give yourself up or you will damage your defence. Please contact me immediately.'

  Just at that moment he felt safe. He wanted it to last a while longer. He made a mental note to reply later. He was surprised to see that the next text was from Rachel.

  'What's happening, Doug? Have you contacted Nick yet? I want you to keep me informed.'

  He felt suddenly guilty. With all that had happened he'd forgotten about Rachel. A pang of regret stabbed his inside. He searched for a text from Nick. There wasn't one. He tried calling his mobile but it switched through to voicemail. Feeling uneasy, he sent a text.

  'Nick. Call me. Let me know where you are. Don't do anything you'll regret.'

  Julia came back into the room. She was wrapped in a full length white bath towel. Her hair hung in wet ringlets down her back. Doug's tension evaporated as he took her into his arms and they kissed. Her towel dropped to the floor and their bodies became entwined as desire took over. Doug pulled off his clothes and with the sea breeze from the open window caressing their bodies, they made love with an intensity and passion that neither had experienced for a long time.

  As they lay together on the bed afterwards, listening to the distant pounding of waves on the beach, the reality of their lives seemed a distant memory. But slowly, like a nagging toothache, the present began to claw its way back.

  "You know you have to give yourself up, Douglas. You can't run."

  "I have to help Nick first. I can't let him down again."

  "And how are you going to that?"

  "First of all I need to find him. He's not contacted me and he's not answering his phone.

  They both sat, staring silently out of the window at the ocean beyond.

  "You're accused of phone hacking – right?"

  "What are you getting at?"

  "Well, if you're accused of it, why not do it?"

  "Because it's illegal."

  "But supposing you could hack into Nick's phone. There might be messages – clues. You could trace him. I’m sure it's possible."

  "Hack into my own son's phone? Come on, Julia, I'm in enough trouble already. How do you think the headlines would look?

  'Journalist accused of phone hacking hacks into own son's phone to find out where he is.'

  I'd be a laughing stock."

  "What'd you rather be – a laughing stock or in prison? You have to get Nick sorted out and then report to the police. This might be the only way of
doing that."

  Doug paused, considering the situation.

  "I don't know how to hack into someone's phone."

  "But you must know someone who does. You said yourself that some of the junior reporters hacked into phones. There must be someone you can call."

  Doug thought, quietly turning over the options in his mind.

  "I suppose it would be a wonderful irony. If I'm going to go down for phone hacking I might as well actually do it."

  "Is there anyone you could ask?"

  "Raff. He might know. He's got his ear closer to the ground than I have. He would certainly know someone."

  "Text him then. Do it now."

  Doug disentangled himself from Julia's limbs and reached across for his phone.

  'Hi Raff. Need your help again mate. Urgently need to track Nick. I think he's gone to Derby to search for girlfriend. She may be in danger. Need to know if we can track Nick's phone to locate him. Also check his contact list to find girlfriend's mobile number. Surprising as it may seem, I have no idea how to go about this. Do you know anyone who could help? This could literally be a matter of life or death. Thanks mate.'

  After he had sent the text, they both slept for a few hours, safe in each other's arms. Later, they went down to the dining room to eat. It was past nine o'clock and most of the other diners had already left. Only a few stragglers remained, gossiping over coffee. They ordered light meals and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

  "What are you going to do, Julia?" asked Doug, as they settled at their table. "I don't like the idea of you going back to that house and being by yourself."

  Julia examined the rim of her glass, gently swilling the chilled wine around the bowl.

  "I've nowhere else to go. That is my home."

  "No relations?"

  "My parents are dead. I've got a sister who lives in Dubai but we haven't been in contact for years. And I've got little money. He used to look after all that side of things."

  A text alert buzzed from Doug's jacket pocket.

  'Sorry to hear about the trouble. I know how to hack into a phone with a pass code but you need something more sophisticated to do what you want. There is software available but I don't have that information. But I know someone who does. I'll have to lean very hard on him. Could cost me my job. If it works you'll hear from him soon. Good luck. Raff'