The man fled into the night.
Why didn’t I think of that?
Ruefully, Alicia bent to retrieve the saucepan, only to inadvertently smack the top of her head on the open window when she stood up.
The pain was horrendous. She staggered, tripped over her own feet and crashed back onto the path, knocking herself into oblivion.
18
It was late by the time Natalie got home. She’d have liked to have taken a couple of painkillers and collapse into bed but knew she’d never sleep. The conversation she’d had with her father was stuck on repeat inside her head. So she left her car in the basement and took the side exit out onto the quay.
It was unseasonably warm. Over the past few days the media had been working itself into a frenzy, alternating between forecasting an Indian summer and uttering dire warnings about global warming. Either way, Natalie, in the same skirt and short-sleeved top she’d worn all day, did not feel remotely cold.
She passed two late-night cafés, a bar and a busy nightclub, until she came to a scruffy-looking club called Remedy, right at the end of the quayside. Located in a converted boathouse, the interior had been painted black and was half-heartedly strewn with fairy lights. At one end was a rudimentary stage, at the other a bar. Between them was a small dance floor. It was too dark to hook up, and the beer and company wasn’t great. The only reason anyone went to Remedy was for the music.
As usual the club was packed. Tonight, a curvaceous brunette was singing soulfully about doomed love. Everyone stood in the area known as the dance floor, even though no one ever danced. Natalie headed for the bar and ordered a rum and coke, gulping down half almost as soon as the barman placed it in front of her.
On stage the singer launched into something with more beat. The barman turned his attention to the man in the woollen hat standing next to her. Cheered by the warmth of the alcohol, Natalie scanned the room to see if there was anyone she knew. Surprisingly there was - and it was the last person she expected to see.
He caught her attention because in a sea of rumpled black his shirt was white and pristine. He had unbuttoned it a couple of notches in an attempt to blend in, but looked as though he would have been happier presiding over a busy office.
There were three other chairs at his table. Two were empty, although there were assorted glasses to show they had once been occupied. In the third seat was a young girl with pale blonde hair, also out of synch with the ambience in her too short, too tight dress. They weren’t regulars, or they would have realised that no one ever sat at a table - and they spent more time staring at each other rather than paying attention to what was happening on the stage.
Which meant neither of them had seen her.
Natalie picked up her drink and turned sideways to squeeze a path to their table. She had to hold her glass above her head, so it didn’t spill, and fervently hoped she would not be mistaken for staff in her black skirt and white shirt. At this time of night the club’s clientele were liable to turn difficult at any perceived slight.
They did not see her approach. Intent on causing the maximum amount of trouble, Natalie kissed the man’s cheek.
“Jamie,” she said, keeping her head close to his, so he could hear her above the music. “This is a surprise.”
“Natalie?” said James Fitzpatrick. “What are you doing here?”
“Which is what I should be asking you.” Despite the two empty seats opposite, she pulled another from the table behind, wedging it between James and the blonde, before lowering herself into it. The blonde glared at her. “Aren’t you worried about your image?”
“Which image would that be?” he asked, amused. “Staid, boring, headmaster?”
The alcohol seemed to have gone to her head in remarkably quick time. “That’s the one.”
“Am I allowed to make a joke about not judging a book by its cover?”
“If you must.”
“And ask if you come here often?”
By now the blonde looked as though she could quite cheerfully kill her.
“Now I’m disappointed,” said Natalie, with mock reproach. “You know I live in an apartment on the quayside.”
My £2.5 million apartment …
There was a pause. “Ah yes,” said James. “So you do. Would you like a drink?”
Which was remarkably gracious, considering he’d probably rather tip one over her head.
She held up her glass. “Got one, thanks!”
“I could certainly do with another.” He opened his wallet, peeled out a twenty and handed it to the little blonde. “Summer, darling. I’ll have another beer and be sure to get yourself something too.”
Summer curled long pink nails around the note and she reluctantly rose to her feet. At least she was too smart to protest.
Natalie decided it was time to come to the point. “How long have you been shagging your brother’s receptionist?”
He laughed. “I’m here because some of my students have formed themselves into a band and will be performing here tonight. Summer’s brother is one of them. They’re really quite good.”
It sounded so implausible she almost believed him.
“Lexi loves this kind of music,” she told him. “Why didn’t you bring her too?”
“Lexi is at that age where it is embarrassing to be seen out with her parents.”
Lexi had a point, thought Natalie, but was distracted by a commotion by the bar. Dippy Summer had dropped a beer over another customer. She could hear voices rise in agitation and saw the little blonde looking frantically around, assuming James was going to come to her rescue. Natalie almost laughed aloud at the thought of him cast as the hero.
It was time to leave. “Goodbye, James,” she said. “I won’t tell Alicia I saw you here, but do yourself a favour and dump the teenage blonde? I don’t think you realise how bloody lucky you are.”
19
Fifteen Years Previously
The fairground had fallen eerily silent. Some lights were still on but there were no queues and only a few people still milling around. The stalls had already been covered by tarpaulin. The fairground workers were packing up; some of the men were flirting with the local girls who were blatantly still hanging around. They all watched, curious, as Natalie hurried past. Someone even called after her, asking if she was all right.
Natalie headed for the spotlights because she knew that was where the gap in the hedge was. There were no policemen on duty now and very few cars. There were still people queuing to go through the exit. Typically Alicia joined the end of the queue. Natalie just impatiently barged through.
“Wait for me, Nat!” she heard Alicia call after her.
“Go back to the fair, Alicia.” Natalie stepped off the verge and crossed the road. “I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m only trying to help!”
Natalie had turned her head to say, “Just leave me alone, all right?” when she collided with a man - big, tall and strong. She had the briefest glimpse of a red sports car parked on the side of the road, its hazard lights flashing, before she was shoved through the open door and into the luggage compartment at the back.
She sat up and opened her mouth to scream but the car door slammed shut so there didn’t seem to be much point. Then the seat flipped down, effectively trapping her. She was sliding her hand down the side of the seat, searching for the release mechanism, when the door opened again and a man slid into the seat.
She launched herself at him, grabbing a handful of his thick dark hair and giving it a good tug.
He cursed loudly and, twisting around in his seat, caught hold of her hand, forcibly dragging her fingers out of his hair. She reached out with her other hand to free herself but he slapped it away, accidentally catching his knuckles against her mouth. Her bottom lip was crushed against her teeth.
She gave a small yelp of pain and jerked back in shock. For a moment he glowered at her then, unexpectedly, he released her, wrenching the rear view mirror around
to check his reflection.
Natalie wondered if it was worth shuffling along the luggage compartment and trying to get out the other side of the car. To do that she’d have to release the catch on the passenger seat, presuming that there was one. It was a lot to achieve without being caught.
Her abductor, oblivious, was gingerly touched his scalp, parting his hair with his fingers and trying to ascertain the damage. She could see his reflection quite clearly in the vanity light. He was younger than she had first thought; about the same age as Alicia, with dark eyes under heavy black brows. She was thinking he seemed vaguely familiar, when he caught her watching him and swivelled around in his seat.
“Bloody hell, Sarah! I’m trying to do you a favour. Why did you go for me like that?”
He thought she was Sarah?
Feeling something trickling down the side of her mouth, she slid her tongue between her teeth and licked her lips, tasting her own blood. Her bottom lip felt numb. She’d had enough spilt lips from her father to know it wouldn’t take long before it was swollen and misshapen. Unless she could get some ice on it soon, tomorrow it was going to be incredibly painful and no amount of lipgloss, no matter how carefully applied, would hide it.
“Who the hell are you?” It took several seconds for her to get her mouth around the words.
“What?” He reached up to flip on the interior light. “Damn, you’re not Sarah!”
“No shit, Sherlock.” She dabbed her sleeve against her lip, hoping to stop the bleeding, and winced as it stung.
“Little Nat?” He regarded her incredulously. Her cardigan had slipped from her shoulder, revealing an impressive cleavage spilling out of Sarah’s borrowed top, which hardly met its job description. “Bloody hell, you’ve grown!”
“Eyes front, James Fitzpatrick.” Alicia had pulled open the passenger door and flopped into the seat. She’s fifteen.”
“Nearly sixteen,” muttered Natalie, but Jamie’s face now wore the same expression of horror that had crossed Geraint’s face earlier.
“Jesus,” he muttered, pulling on his seatbelt. “Talk about jailbait.”
“Operative word, ‘jail’,” said Alicia drily.
Jamie started up the car and checked his rear view mirror. For a moment his gaze caught Natalie’s, lingered a split-second too long, before snapping away.
“I came to warn you,” he said. “Sarah’s dad turned up at the pub, crazier than usual. He wanted to know if anyone had seen Sarah. Of course, no one was going to tell him anything, we know what he’s like. But the bar was full of tourists and Sarah’s hair is pretty distinctive. It didn’t take long for someone to mention they’d seen her at the fair.”
“Blast!”
Jamie looked again at Natalie. “Sorry if I hurt you, Nat. I thought you were Sarah. I was trying to hide you.”
“Sarah said she had permission to go to the fair,” Alicia was saying.
“Then your precious Sarah is bloody lying again!”
“He definitely said ‘Sarah’? Are you sure about that?”
Jamie hesitated, then, “He said ‘daughter’. He didn’t say which one. I assumed he meant Sarah.”
Natalie gave a low moan and bent over. If her father knew she’d sneaked out …
Jamie caught the movement reflected in his mirror and smirked. “Serves you right for breaking curfew, Nat.”
“Jamie,” Alicia lowered her voice. “You don’t understand.”
“That their old man’s an old bastard?” He shrugged. “It’s no secret. The whole village knows. Why the hell does your father still employ him?”
“Why wouldn’t he? As far as my father is concerned, John Grove is an excellent gardener.”
“And a crap human.”
“All my father cares about is his garden and his books.”
Natalie kept her gaze on the view from the window, unwilling to draw attention to the fact she had overheard everything. She did not know which was worse. That the whole village knew her personal business or that no one did anything to help.
“What about Sarah?” Jamie was saying. “We ought to find her before Mr Grove does.”
Alicia shrugged. “She’s hooked up with some fairground worker. You don’t need to worry about her.”
Jamie cursed beneath his breath. “With some of those characters she gets off with, I swear one day we’re going to find her murdered in a ditch.”
Alicia said nothing, merely stared out of the window into the darkness. The roads were practically clear. All the parked cars had gone, leaving only deep ruts in the grass verges to show where they’d been.
“We don’t have to take Nat home,” Jamie said.
Natalie, who had been watching the passing hedgerows with disinterest, sat up. She had a choice?
“Where else are you going to take her?” asked Alicia. “Back to your place? You mother would love that. She’s worse than mine.”
“God, no! I was thinking along the lines of the Social Services.”
Natalie slumped back. The last time a social worker had turned up, after a tip off from the school, her father had launched into his Father of the Year routine. The social worker had gone away, happily reassured, with a deluxe hamper from the Hurst Castle gift shop safely stowed in the boot of her car.
“Best not to get involved,” said Alicia flatly.
“Like your father?” Jamie derided. “And you call yourself Sarah’s friend?”
“We have no proof and the only mark on Natalie is the one you inflicted on her. John Grove is a renowned horticulturist with friends in high places - including both our fathers. Think about it. Who are Social Services more likely to believe? A couple of teenagers or Sir Henry Vyne?”
Jamie fell silent for a moment then said, “Do we actually need proof?”
“Yes,” said Alicia. “We do.”
Which reinforced Natalie’s view that the only person capable of helping her was herself.
She licked her lips again. Although her lower lip felt numb, it did not feel as swollen as it might have done and the bleeding appeared to have stopped. She leaned forward, between the two front seats. The way Alicia started guiltily, you’d have thought she’d forgotten Natalie was there.
“I’ll be fine,” Natalie told them, with enough confidence to almost believe it herself. “You don’t need to worry about me. Drop me outside the main gate, so no one sees or hears the car stopping. I’ll sneak back through my bedroom window and pretend I’ve never left.”
Alicia gave a snort. “Have you seen yourself? You look like you’ve been in a street fight.”
“Sorry about that,” muttered Jamie.
She didn’t bother to reply.
The stone gateway of Hurst Castle gleamed white in the headlights of Jamie’s car.
“Drop me off here.” she told him.
“If you’re certain … ” Jamie slowed the car, driving up onto the grass verge and stopping.
Alicia got out first, checking they hadn’t been followed. When she was satisfied the road was clear, she flipped up the seat and helped Natalie out of the back.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” Alicia asked. “I know my mother can be a pain, but I’m sure my father would try to help if we explained it to him.”
Natalie could imagine how that conversation would go.
She shook her head. “I’ll be fine, honest.”
It was a lie and they both knew it.
“Shall I see you across the road?” Alicia persisted.
Natalie gave her a look.
Despite her earlier words, Alicia seemed reluctant to leave her.
“Go,” Natalie gave her a shove towards the car. “Before my dad turns up and catches us standing here.”
“Good point.” Alicia got quickly into the car. “But if you have any trouble - ” she lowered her voice so Jamie could not hear “ - any trouble at all, you call me, is that clear?”
Before Alicia could say any more on the subject, Natalie slammed the c
ar door and stepped back onto the verge to allow Jamie to drive off. She waited for his car turn in through the huge stone gateway to Hurst Castle, and then she crossed the road.
By the time she walked beneath the archway, the lights from Jamie’s car had vanished down the drive and she was left alone outside the Lodge.
20
Present
Outside the club called Remedy, the warm air held the hint of a storm to come. The wind had got up, causing the yachts to bob frenetically up and down on their moorings, shredding the reflection of the street lights. Although it was early, the pubs and clubs were emptying onto the street. Natalie crossed the road with the intention of avoiding the drunks, but had hardly reached the pavement when she began to feel odd.
The railings that kept the tourists from falling into the river were in front of her. She leant against them, taking several deep breaths. Her head was swirling. It must be the heat, coupled with a long, stressful day. She could hardly have got drunk on one rum and coke!
The pavement swayed beneath her feet. She held tighter to the railings. Despite the coolness of the breeze, sweat dripped from her forehead. Did she have food poisoning? She let go of the railings, took a few more steps and almost collapsed. Why did she feel so ill?
People hurried past, giving her curious looks. Thick dark clouds hung low in the sky, promising a downpour. She knew she shouldn’t linger but what choice did she have? Taking out her mobile, she pretended to speak into it, hoping that would prevent unwelcome attention. On the other side of the road, James Fitzpatrick came out of the club. He must have taken her advice because he was alone. She watched him turn up the collar of his jacket and walk away, without once glancing in her direction.
It was beginning to dawn on Natalie that the clubs were emptying too early. The quay was packed with people, yet they were all walking in the same direction.
She caught the arm of the next woman to make eye contact. “What’s going on?”
The woman’s eyes glittered with excitement. “There’s a fire up on the hill. We’re going to watch.”
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