by A. M. Castle
‘Vicky, don’t you think we’d have said?’ She hands Vicky a cup of tea, though it’s probably a bit cold by now. Rachel’s servants haven’t been in for a while. I don’t know how anyone can go on using that china with the Tregowan sword on it.
‘Try and take a breath, Vicky. I know it’s upsetting—’ I break in. I shouldn’t have done. She turns on me.
‘Upsetting? Upsetting? My lad could be fucking dead and you think it might be “upsetting”?’
‘Vicky, lashing out at me won’t help us find Raf. But feel free if it makes you feel better,’ I say, resigned. Then there’s a huge sob from beside me on the sofa and a minute later Tasha has shot to her feet and left the room. I glare at Vicky. ‘Thanks. She’d just about stopped crying.’
‘Well, I’m sorry if I’m ruining your daughter’s day. Maybe if you’d been a better friend to me over the years, this situation would never have arisen.’ Vicky has got to the dangerous stage; articulating each word with huge deliberation. Things can only go downhill – but I’m too infuriated to care.
‘I don’t know how you can talk to me about friendship. If you hadn’t had sex with Tom behind my back, we wouldn’t be in this mess now.’ It’s out before I can think better of it, and I don’t even need to turn my head to see the instant reaction from Nessie and Ruby. Ruby lets her phone fall with a clatter, while Nessie gasps like a dowager dropping her lorgnette. Damn.
The fight goes out of Vicky and she slumps in her seat. But only for a second. She starts to pipe up again, but I break in quickly and cut her off. ‘We’ve all been very preoccupied, lost in our thoughts …’ I say. I look over at Roderick, who seems to be on the verge of tears again. ‘We haven’t really been in a state to notice much.’
‘Oh, come on,’ says Vicky. ‘No one else saw a thing? I’m beginning to wonder if it happened at all.’
‘I don’t really see where you’re going with this, Vicky. Where is Raf, if there wasn’t a wave? He should have been back ages ago. And I hate to say it, but that water out there is cold. Really cold.’ Ruby burrows into my side and I feel awful. I clasp an arm round her. But I can’t shelter her from every unpleasant truth, however much I wish I could. There are too many of them at the moment. ‘And as for the police,’ I say with my head up, shaking Ruby just a little to bolster her spirit. ‘Tom is the police. And he’s here. So we really don’t need to worry.’
Vicky turns and gives me a baleful stare. She opens her mouth and I brace myself for another tirade. Honestly, she really needs treatment. Her worry about Raf would have anyone reaching for a drink, fair enough – but most of us would have the sense to keep it to just the one. Not Vicky. She’s swaying now. Before I have time to think about it, Geoff has shot up and is settling her back in the chair again. She goes quiet. Thank goodness.
I ought to go and see if Tasha’s OK. I ought to see if Tom needs anything, too. But I don’t like to leave Nessie and Ruby, not while Vicky’s like this. I look towards Jane. ‘Would you mind keeping an eye on the girls for a bit? I just need to see how Tasha is doing.’ For a second, I think Jane’s going to refuse. She looks so surprised. I suppose someone with her aversion is never asked to babysit. But it’s not exactly going to be full on. She only needs to sit there and carry on looking aloof, for God’s sake. ‘Just for ten minutes?’ I plead.
‘Of course,’ she says, with a social smile, and edges herself between Nessie and Ruby in the place I’ve vacated, as though she’s sitting between two unexploded bombs. A servant opens the door and comes in with the next tray. Coffee, this time. Nessie jumps up. ‘I’ll come with you, Mum, I’m dying for the loo.’ She’s not looking great. All this seems to have been a shock to her system. Once we’re in the corridor, she bolts to the cloakroom and slams the door. I hesitate outside for a moment, wondering what’s given her this dicky tummy. But Rachel’s food was so rich, last night. All except the pudding. And that was enough to turn anyone’s stomach. I feel stupid, loitering outside. So I plod up the stairs, to see how Tasha’s doing.
All we need now is for her to get some crazy notion into her head; that she and Raf are star-crossed lovers, that she can’t live without him. I’m dreading finding her missing, too. But, when I poke my head round her door, she’s safely on her bed, deep in her phone. I come and lie beside her, and see she’s scrolling through pictures of the two of them. Who knew there were so many?
‘You didn’t tell me about Raf,’ I say gently.
She sniffs. ‘You could see we really got on,’ she says slowly.
‘Yes. As friends. I mean, you’ve known each other forever. You’ve grown up like brother and sister.’ God, I could cut my tongue out! I can’t believe I just said that. But it doesn’t provoke the storm that I brace myself for. A fat tear plops from each of her beautiful eyes, but she isn’t hysterical anymore.
‘We just understood each other. And then it became … something more.’
‘He’s always been a lovely kid.’ I lean closer to the photos filling her phone screen. So good-looking. So sweet. They look adorable together. Like siblings? I squint. I’m not a hundred per cent sure. There are similarities – but surely they come mostly from their easy-going personalities.
At this point, I can’t work out whether it would really be a relief or not, if Raf has actually been swept away. Earlier I thought it might be, but I was so angry. I absolutely wouldn’t wish such an awful death on anyone, especially poor Raf. Nor do I want to see Vicky suffer, whatever she has done. She may have multiple failings as a human being – and as a mother – but she doesn’t deserve that. On the other hand, if he’s gone, well, this is horrible, but it does solve some problems. The incest. The whole question of his paternity. And what to do about him and Tasha, going forward.
It would still leave my relationship with Vicky in intensive care, and with little real chance of survival. She did the dirty with my husband, whether Raf was the result or not.
And I can’t acquit Tom, either. I mean, yes, Vicky must have been offering it to him on a plate. And no, most men wouldn’t turn the opportunity down. But it was wrong. The thing with Jane wasn’t great, either – but it was before we were officially together.
All right, it’s a mess. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean I love Tom any the less.
I’ve worked hard, throughout our marriage. And I’ve held things together. Admittedly, I haven’t looked as closely at some of our problems as I should have done.
When he came home that day, four, no five months ago, my heart sank. ‘There’s a glitch at work,’ he said, his eyes not quite meeting mine. There’d been other times, when I’d had questions, and his answers had been quick. Too quick.
So I was pleasantly surprised when it was nothing to do with all that. ‘Corruption,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’m being accused of.’ I could tell from the set of his mouth that he found the charges ridiculous. ‘I’m going to fight this with everything I have.’
Of course I had no qualms at all about throwing my weight behind him, standing by him. He’s not a bent copper. He’s never been corrupt. I’m so angry with his accusers, I could kill them for what they’ve done to him, blackening his reputation. It’s so unfair.
And he didn’t know a thing about Raf, either. That much has been obvious. It’s typical of Vicky not to have found out herself. She could have clarified the situation so quickly. Those DNA companies probably even provide an SAE, it’s so easy, now. But no. She prefers to take refuge in a sort of half-life of uncertainty and shifting parameters. Keeping on the right side of Bob, I suppose. I don’t know whether he’s paid her any child support over the years – probably not, knowing him – but that would have stopped if he’d known Raf wasn’t his. Not that Vicky has really needed any extra. She’s managed to keep down a job all this time. Christ knows how. I wouldn’t employ her to run a tap at this point.
I suppose that’s how you get, when you prefer to look at the world through the bottom of a glass. Vicky hasn’t been able to face reality for yea
rs. I thought it was just her inability to keep relationships going, long term. But maybe it was about Raf all along? Secrets do so much damage. I mean, I’d hate to see the state of Vicky’s liver. But I bet her heart is no better, with all the poison she’s kept in it for so long.
Tom’s the opposite. All right, he’s got his flaws. But he loves his family. ‘You and the girls are everything to me,’ he said, when he came home that day. I believed him. And I can’t imagine him doing anything that would put us in danger. I’ve never cross-questioned him about what went on. It would be unsupportive. My job has been to take his side, not to niggle away at him. He’s always tried to do the right thing by us.
And I’d still defend him, and our family, against anyone.
Yes, to the death.
Chapter 63
Tom
Mount Tregowan, 1st November
At the start of the day, there were question marks. I’m not sure anyone really saw Penny, nuts though she was, as quite crazy enough to take a skewer to her stepmother. But there’s plenty of evidence when you start looking for it. Rachel would keep on blabbing about how Penny killed her own mother in the car accident. That’s a cast-iron motive right there. A night of remorse, and her involvement in that stunt with our Ruby in the chapel, and you’ve got enough guilt to sink the sanest person.
But now Geoff is up there in the frame too. A little digging into his background, when Gita first said Jane had been worrying about him, turned up some interesting stuff. One of his clients – the richest – is an old family friend of Rachel’s lot. And there were rumours that some funny business had gone on with her will.
Jane is pretty much away with the fairies, or perhaps with those twee animals she draws. I don’t think she’d notice if she were married to one of the Great Train Robbers. But Geoff has all the sweaty hallmarks of a guilty man. Rachel would have been on to him; she had a nose for that kind of thing. Yes, there’s a reason he looked a lot perkier the minute she was dead and cold. The threat of being disbarred, and prosecuted for embezzlement, had been miraculously lifted. His client had no other relatives; Rachel was the only one due for a slug of the fortune. That’s how she knew the money had gone astray. And now she’s not around anymore to moan about failing to receive it. Heaven knows she hardly needed the dosh – but that wouldn’t stop her making the poor schmuck’s life a misery.
Jane herself. Does she have a motive? I haven’t turned anything up, except the surprising fact she’s spent about fifteen of the last twenty years in fertility clinics, getting one treatment after another. Intriguing for a woman who, according to my wife, hates kids. She and I had that near miss, years ago. But then her period came, and that was that. Not for the first time, Gita seems to have got things arse over tit. But that doesn’t give Jane a reason to kill Rachel. Unless I’m missing something.
Roderick had as good a motive as anyone for wanting to see the back of Rachel. He’s run this island for donkey’s years, just avoiding a loss, enough to more or less keep the bats out of Lord Tregowan’s belfry. But in breezes Rachel and suddenly everything goes five-star. And, with her name attached to the place, they’re getting the crowds to match. How galling must it have been, for the poor guy. Plodding along doing Daddy’s bidding, when suddenly the game changes and it’s the wicked stepmother at the helm.
As for Lord Tregowan himself, I’m not sure it stacks up. Yes, he might well have got sick of Rachel; that seems to be the inevitable outcome of all her relationships. She was strong meat; strong poison, I would say. Perhaps he didn’t know quite what he was taking on. He probably wanted her money to prop up his castle, though no doubt there was a prenup. And he might well have wanted to shut her mouth about that car accident. It’ll be interesting to see what transpires now. I don’t know who her heirs are; the Tregowans or her foundation? If it’s the former, I don’t know why Roderick keeps on looking so miserable. He’ll be able to build a statue to his mum and sis, and mourn by it night and day – or get on with a life of total luxury. Whichever he wants.
I’m afraid not even my own family emerges totally free of suspicion. I might well have wanted to prevent Rachel from yammering on about my work situation. Let’s face it, who hasn’t wanted to gag that woman over the years? Then take Gita herself. Rachel was the one who let it all slip about me and Vicky. That’s crushed our daughter. And bingo, given Gita a reason to kill. If she were a psychopath, that is. I don’t think for a moment she’d do it.
Tasha, now. Could she have offed Rachel, as revenge on her big mouth? I can’t see it. It’s not just that she’s my daughter, and incapable of hurting a fly. If Tasha had stabbed Rachel after Raf disappeared, then it would make some sort of sense. She might have blamed Rachel for Raf’s suicide mission. But that happened later. Tasha was shocked and devastated, yes. Homicidal, no.
How about Raf? Did he kill Rachel, and then volunteer to brave those dangerous waters, knowing he was unlikely to make it? But he wouldn’t have killed Penny, throwing the blame her way, only to swim into oblivion the next day. What would have been the point of that?
Even Ruby has a motive, I suppose. Penny lured her to the chapel, almost giving Gita a breakdown yesterday afternoon. The woman was a menace. But a little girl, feeding an adult enough pills to kill her? And Ruby had no earthly reason to kill Rachel – and would have been incapable of pushing that skewer down with enough force to sever a grown woman’s spine.
Who’s that ramming the door, breaking my train of thought? Ah, Gita.
My first thought is, good. It’s time we had a little talk. My second is: Christ. What the hell has got into her?
Chapter 64
Gita
Mount Tregowan, 1st November
It’s funny, with kids. With having three, at any rate. You give your attention to whichever of them needs it the most at the time. Once that particular girl’s crisis has been dealt with, whatever it is – anything from a lost toy to a broken heart – then you can look around at the others.
When I leave Tasha’s room, safe in the knowledge that she’ll be OK, not today, not tomorrow, but eventually, that’s when it hits me.
Nessie. The way she’s been, this whole weekend. And particularly today, with her inconsolable tears for a woman she hardly knows.
I thunder straight to the sitting room. There she is, back from the loo, hunched next to Jane with Ruby on the other side. I stare straight at her. ‘Ness, can we have a little chat?’
She looks up slowly and, as our eyes finally meet, I get my confirmation. ‘Sure, let me just finish this level of my game.’
‘Nice try,’ I say, charging over and yanking her arm. She doesn’t make it a battle royal, maybe because everyone’s looking at us.
I march her up to my room. Once the door is shut and we are both sitting on the bed – Rachel didn’t seem to believe in chairs for guests – I just come out with it.
Damn it, I was right. In an instant, her face crumples. For a second, I feel bad. But then anger rises up. What the fuck has been going on? In my own house? Tasha and Raf was a disaster, all right. But now this? It is unbelievable. I don’t know how it can have happened. Or what the hell Tom has been playing at. All these months at home, when I assumed that finally, I no longer had to worry about the kids all the time. There was a responsible adult in the house, to help them with homework, ferry them to clubs. To keep them safe.
Safe, my eye. I stare at Nessie. She sits there, reddening like an Englishman in full sun, shifting under my gaze. ‘It’s not what you think,’ she starts.
Chapter 65
Tom
Mount Tregowan, 1st November
I suppose I’ve been expecting it to happen at some point. But when Gita erupts into the room, hair flying behind her like a black silk pennant, it’s still a shock.
‘What the hell have you got to say for yourself? What’s all this, this, this infernal scheme of Rachel’s? And don’t tell me you didn’t know about it.’
I might be six-foot-whatever, and i
n the best shape I’ve achieved since college days, but I’m not going to lie – I draw back in my chair. At this moment, my wife is terrifying. And, actually, magnificent. I feel a prickle of desire for her, probably the first for months. This is not the time, though. I clear my throat and shift in my seat.
‘What are you on about, Gita?’ I say. A mild tone sometimes works. Yep, not today. She’s off. Why do women do this? Get so shouty? If they could just stay reasonable, keep a lid on their emotions … I sit in silence, waiting for Gita’s storm to abate, while outside the rain rattles against the windows. When there’s a gap in her tirade, I finally get my chance.
‘Look, you know what Rachel was like. When she came to me, I just had to …’
Then I realise Gita is staring at me as though she’s never seen me before in her life. ‘You’re not saying you were, somehow, a part of this?’ she says slowly, incredulously.
I backpedal. ‘What? No, of course not. Look, you know I kind of cut out when you get above a certain number of decibels.’ I spread my hands and smile, in the old way.
‘Did you know or not? About Nessie and Rachel?’ she says, speaking as though to a simpleton.
‘Nessie and …? Nope, can’t say I did.’ My tone is airy.
Gita gets up and starts pacing the small office. I wish she wouldn’t. I can concentrate better when she’s in one place. ‘I didn’t even know they’d spent any time together, let alone cooked up this crackpot scheme … Is it even legal?’
‘Now you’ve got me,’ I admit. ‘I thought you meant they’d had an argument, one of the times Rachel was round. What the hell are you on about?’
Gita gives me another piercing look. ‘How many times, exactly, did Rachel come round? While I was out of the way?’
I look vague. ‘While you were out at work, you mean? A couple, I think. She just hung out with the kids, really.’
