by Andrea Hicks
I shake my head hoping they’ll believe me when I tell them I don’t have a clue. ‘I don’t know why you would think that. I’ve been looking for him myself. If I knew where he was don’t you think I would have gone to him?’
‘You have friends in high places,’ says Hikaru. ‘Ava knows you’ve spoken to Edward Spencer, and those guys from Downing Street...the ones who’ve been helping you, they have to be more involved than they want anyone to think.’
‘Bullshit. Involved how? They’ve helped me, Hikaru. You have no idea what I’ve been through. They’re not interested in money, unlike you. It’s all you and Cain care about.’ I glance over to Ava. ‘And you too by the looks of things. What a disappointment. You’re backing the wrong horse, Ava. Wise up. You don’t know Hikaru like I do. He’ll ruin you.’
Hikaru leaps towards me and slaps my face, hard, enough to knock me off the chair. ‘Get up,’ he screams. ‘Get up, and don’t mention that cretin’s name again. Cain is the golden boy, Mother’s little favourite. He had everything and now he’s a scientist even though he failed at school and university. That bitch, Cece pulled some strings and there he is at Plan Bee, working with Mummy. And she doesn’t have a clue what he’s trying to do. You think he ever cared about Katsuro, my brother? Did he hell. I’m fighting for his memory. Cain is fighting for his pocketbook.’
I drag myself from the floor and sit on the chair, holding my cheek which stings from the slap Hikaru has just given me. I can’t see my way out of this, but then I remember Leo told me to keep him talking.
‘You went to university too, didn’t you? What did you study?’
‘That’s not your concern.’
‘I was at uni’, but something awful happened to me there and I decided to leave. I thought it was the best thing although at the time I felt justice had not been served, ironic really when I was studying the law. Which uni’ did you go to, Hikaru?’
He narrows his eyes and I watch him closely for a few moments until I see recognition suddenly dawn on him. He glances across to Ava then back to me. ‘Forget it.’
‘Oh, but I can’t. I’ll never forget what happened. Four cowardly little shits jumped me in the halls of residence, then held me down while they raped me, taking turns until they couldn’t do it anymore. They wore masks so I wouldn’t recognise them, but I’ll never forget their voices, their laughter as they carried out a terrible crime, the worst abuse you can carry out on a woman. They were so cowardly they wouldn’t do it on their own, so they formed a gutless little group and did it together, thinking that somehow it made it alright, which I guess for them it was.’ I turned to Ava. ‘What kind of man do you think would do that to a woman, Ava?’
Ava looks startled and I notice her hand holding the pistol tremble. ‘I...I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ I frown at her, gutted that she turned against me. ‘Oh, please.’
‘Never mind that. We don’t want your life history, just where Tate Spencer is, and I’m losing patience so you’d better tell me or I’ll blow your head off.’
‘Hikaru!’ says Ava.
‘What?’ he screams at her. ‘Do you think this is a game, Ava? She knows where he is and she’s going to tell me.’
I slowly and patronisingly shake my head. ‘No, I’m not.’
He steps towards me and raises the gun, pointing it towards me. Ava screams and the front door splinters and cracks as it crashes inwards. Heavy footsteps run down the hall. A shot is fired and Hikaru collapses across my lap. His blood and brains smear across my jogging bottoms. It sinks into the fabric and I can feel the warmth of it on my skin as it seeps through. I can hear Ava screaming and screaming as though she’s miles away instead of being in the same room. I push Hiraku’s body off my lap and stand, trembling, waiting for Ava to fire. She doesn’t. She throws the pistol onto the floor and sinks down onto her knees, her hands covering her face. Leo is in the room, somehow everywhere, inspecting Hiraku’s body, feeling for a pulse, searching the other rooms, retrieving Ava’s gun, then standing in front of me, his hand on my shoulder. He’s like a spectre, a ghost floating to wherever he needs to be, his presence filling my vision and my senses.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I don’t know, Leo.’ I look down at Hiraku’s body. ‘That’s...horrible.’
‘It had to be done.’ He glances behind him as armed officers come into the room. One of them lifts Ava to her feet and walks her out of the apartment.
‘What will happen to her?’
He pulls a face. ‘She aided a felon. Threatened murder with an illegal firearm. Who knows. The terrorist act will probably apply.’
I frown, astonished at the severity of what she could face. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Fraid not. She made a bad choice.’
‘Yeah, but...terrorism. Bit harsh.’
‘Not really. Hikaru has a chequered history. He’s had his fingers in all sorts of pies, and not just fraud. His name has been linked to some terrible crimes and she aided and abetted him. They’ll throw the book at her.’
‘Oh, God.’
‘Let’s hope she wasn’t involved in any of his other crimes. If it’s discovered she wasn’t she might get a lighter sentence.’
I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. Hikaru is dead. A human being has died and I feel nothing. Something died in me when he and his friends did what they did. ‘What now? For us I mean.’
‘Now we go home and get some breakfast.’
Chapter 25
The scenes at Ava’s apartment have left me feeling jittery but now we’re back at No. 12 I’m able to calm down. Tom makes hot chocolate for the three of us and Leo advises me to go back to bed for a few hours while he writes his report.
‘Who is the report for?’ I ask him.
He looks up at me from his laptop, his expression serious and giving nothing away. ‘The PM mostly, but it will need to be copied to Cecily Cunningham.’
I gasp. ‘Maybe not, Leo. Hikaru was her adopted son. That’s not the way a mother should find out her son has been killed.’
He presses his lips together. ‘She already knows, Nina. She was told immediately it happened...and who shot and killed him. And why.’
‘She must be devastated.’
‘She’s disappointed, certainly, but she was already well aware of what Hikaru was capable of. He has led her and her husband on a dance that’s for sure, and his adoptive father is so affected by dementia it will likely never register with him. Cecily Cunningham doesn’t do tears or regrets, so don’t expect her to be sitting at home with a sodden handkerchief, weeping into a glass of sherry. That’s not her style at all. ‘
Not even for her son?’
‘Not even for her son.’ I raise my eyebrows and sigh, thinking how sad it is that not even Hikaru’s mother would miss him, then I check myself. What do I care? He swept all my confidence and self-esteem away in a matter of minutes; believe me it wasn’t much longer than that for any of them. It was the pain and the humiliation from which I thought I would never recover that felled me and changed my life for ever. After that dreadful time, I thought I would never know myself again, believing that my value as a human being had been diminished. And now Hikaru is no more and I doubt if he will be bothering Heaven anytime soon.
I go to the room at the top of the building where I slept for a few hours last night. There’s no frills here, just a bedroom with a small shower room connected to it, nothing like Leo’s gorgeous rooms. I know I should try to sleep, I want to, to close my eyes and forget what happened in the small hours, but it almost seems like it happened to someone else. Plus the fact that there’s something bugging me, like unfinished business, a worm wriggling around my brain trying to remind me of something. Something has escaped. What the hell is it? I close my eyes and feel myself drifting. I’m tired, exhausted by everything, the different colours and shades of last night filtering in and out...and then it hits me. Cain. How could I have forgotten him. If Cec
ily knows about Hikaru then so does Cain...and it means he has a clear path to my father, and if I know anything about him and his money-lust, it’s a path he’ll be more than willing to take.
At ten a.m. I shower, dress in the only things I now possess, a pair of Leo’s old joggers nipped in at the waist with a belt and a fleece which feels a dozen sizes too big. No. 12 is quiet. I go down the twisted flight of stairs and peek round the door of the common room. It’s empty, as is the kitchen. Propped up against the kettle is a note from Leo.
“Accompanying the PM on a trip to the new flood defences in Yorkshire. Will be back later tonight. You can use my rooms. Key is with Tom. He says to knock. Don’t go out, Nina. Please. We’ll talk when I get back.”
I put the note back on the worktop and look for the coffee. These boys are brilliant, better than I ever was at housekeeping, when I had a place to keep. The cupboards are stacked with a store that would have made me and Mum weep with joy had we been fortunate enough to afford decent food. The fridge is the same. I’m sensing a Mediterranean feel, it’s all sun-dried tomatoes and mozzarella which makes me smile. Leo is a hulk of a guy, and envisioning him wearing an apron and tasting and seasoning...is just funny...and...endearing...and rather cute. But the thought of my not going out to find my parents house, is frankly ridiculous. Why would I not now that I know where they are? Anyone with half a brain cell and an ounce of gumption would want to go. And I know I have more than that.
I have the photographs Tom took in my hand. Thanks to his efficiency, there is a photo documenting the name of the street, so all I have to do is key it in on my phone and follow the annoying voice. It takes me half an hour to walk there, and thanks to the clothes I’m wearing which I would never have chosen in a million years, I’m almost anonymous, particularly after scragging my hair up into a high pink and blue ponytail, I look very different to how my parents will remember me.
I find the street name. I’m in the right place, and I follow the line of houses, looking at the photos at the same time. After a while I realise I’m standing in the same place as Tom when he took the image of my parents and across the road is the house in the image. My stomach rolls because in my mind’s eye I haven’t got any further than this. I had imagined finding the house, but not crossing the road, opening the wrought iron gate, stepping up to the front door and ringing the bell, because I just can’t call it. I step back and lean against the railings of the house opposite theirs. I want to imagine what might happen so I can prepare myself for any reaction. I put myself in their place, in Mum’s place. Would I be pleased to see me after I’d lied to and abandoned my daughter? Wouldn’t I be just a bit embarrassed that I’d been found out and that what I’d done wasn’t actually a good lesson to be teaching someone, that to lie and disappear was the way to live a life? Or...would I be so relieved to see my child I would beg forgiveness, on my knees if necessary. I guess it depends on why they did what they did, and there’s only one way to find out.
Chapter 26
The door is black and gloss paint shiny with brass numbers and a brass plate saying Dr Michael Finch, Cain’s father and Cecily Cunningham’s husband. Why is his name on the brass plaque? Does he own the house my parents are living in? Surely he’s not that wealthy. Leo said these houses are worth millions. This can’t be right. I know Cecily is minted, but there’s minted and there’s minted. I take a deep breath that wobbles in my chest with nerves, lift my hand and press the bell. I hear it ring in the hall and wait, then clip-cloppy footsteps against tiles. Is it Mum? Am I about to come face to face with her for the first time in years? I inhale again, and the door opens.
‘Cecily Cunningham?’
She puts her hands on her hips and smirks.
‘You took your time.’
I know the expression on my face is probably idiotic right now, and also downright ugly because my eyebrows are knotted together and my lip has curled with incomprehension, but I feel like I’ve been hit with a cricket bat. ‘What?’
‘I thought you would have more about you. More chutzpah.’
I know I’m standing on a step in a street where anyone can hear me, but I’m past caring about niceties. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’
‘That’s more like it. You’d better come in.’ She holds the door wide and I step in, wondering if I’m entering some sort of parallel universe. Everything has turned on its head and I feel more and more like I’ve been kept out of a scary loop that involves my parents, Cecily Cunningham and Edward Spencer. ‘We’re in here.’ She points to a pair of double doors set into the wall which she opens wide, as I think, “We? Who does she mean?”.
Edward Spencer sits in a huge winged chair, a glass of something amber and sparkling in his hand, apparently not in Yorkshire inspecting new flood defences. Opposite him, on an oxblood squashy leather sofa are my parents, both holding drinks, and in the gargantuan bay window, dressed with expensive looking cream curtains and huge tie-back tassels, an old man sitting in a wheelchair, his knees covered with a blanket. Everything has been meticulously matched and beautifully arranged. It’s like the setting of a play. My eyes take it in, and then slide over to my parents who are both staring at me. Tears well up, threatening to ruin my assertive stance of, “what the hell were you thinking”, and I angrily brush them away, angry with them of course, and angry with myself for becoming emotional. Do they deserve my anger? Only time will tell.
Edward Spencer slides his glass onto the coffee table and stands, pushing his hands into the pockets of his Armani suit trousers. I give him the flintiest look I can muster and he pulls a straight-mouthed grin.
‘Hilarious,’ I say to him. My voice sounds like a sulky child’s but maybe it’s how I feel. I turn to my parents with the same flinty look. I suddenly feel the need to protect myself. Do I still know them? They look the same, but are they? ‘What happened to you?’ I ask them. ‘You went out one day and didn’t come back.’
My father stands and now he’s older I can see the resemblance between him and Edward Spencer. They’re clearly related. How I don’t know. ‘We can explain, Nina.’
I chuckle, but it’s without humour. I want him and Mum to know how bloody angry I am. They betrayed me, left me on my own and I just don’t understand why. It’s different now. I relish my independence, would hate anyone to try and run my life or tell me what to do. It’s why I wanted to be come a lawyer. I need the control. ‘You can explain?’ I fold my arms, nodding patronisingly. ‘Well, this will be interesting.’ I turn to Mum who looks down at her hands, nervously turning them over in her lap. ‘And can you explain too, Mum, why you pretended so authentically to be ill, allowed me to attend your funeral, and grieve for you.’ She looks up at me at last, her eyes misty with tears. ‘Actually, I’m still grieving for the mother I knew. I’m not sure you’re that person.’
Cecily Cunningham walks into the middle of us, pressing her hands down. ‘Lets all sit,’ she says, ‘and remain calm. Nina needs information and it’s time we gave it to her.’
She gives me a long look and indicates for me to sit. I turn and look for a chair not too close to the rest of them. I‘m not feeling friendly. They all know each other; must have known what was going on all the time I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
‘So explain,’ I say to them, thinking attack is the best form of defence. ‘Why did you disappear?’ I ask looking at Dad. ‘And, Mum, how could you lie to me like that? Why would you fabricate a complete lie for your own daughter?’
‘To protect you,’ Dad says. His voice, that voice, so mellow, low and memorable. ‘We had no choice, Nina. We tried to keep Mum with you but...it was becoming dangerous. Too many people were becoming involved. And please don’t be mistaken. Your mother was ill.’
I frown. ‘Involved with what? And where’s Leo?’ I direct this to Edward Spencer.
‘He’s in Yorkshire. With the Home Secretary who is standing in for me. I’ve booked an international phone call with the president o
f the USA who also has an interest in what is happening and I’ll be speaking to him directly after this meeting.’
‘But how did you know I’d come here today?’
‘We knew if you were asked not to, you would. I directed Leo to leave you a note asking you to stay inside and not leave No.12. To be honest, if someone left me a note like that, I’d ignore it, and after you broke into my offices at No.10, I knew you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to find your parents.’
‘So Leo knows everything.’
‘Leo knows nothing about any of this, but he is a very loyal fellow. Loyal to me. Loyal to you. He didn’t want to leave the note, didn’t want you leave No.12 and put yourself in danger, but it was imperative for us that we see what you’d do.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we need to know how strong your are, physically, emotionally, and mentally, and to discover whether your inner authority would lead you in the right direction.’
I stare at them feeling sick to my stomach. They’re mad, all of them. Even the PM.
‘You want to know how strong I am. Why? I hold my hands up. ‘Hold on a sec. This really has nothing to do with you. I need to speak with my parents. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in why you’re here, Mr Spencer, or you Ms Cunningham. My first and foremost thoughts are to find out why my parents abandoned me when I was a kid. When I’ve discovered that I’ll think about talking with you, but until then I’d like you all to leave.’ There’s silence as Edward Spencer and Cecily Cunningham look at each other. ‘Now,’ I say with as much authority as I can find.
They both rise, clearly reluctantly, from their seats. Cecily goes across to the elderly man in the wheelchair and releases the brake. He looks up at her with rheumy eyes.
