The Victim

by Jane Bidder

  ‘What can I get you?’ He gestured to the bottles.

  ‘Just something soft, please,’ she said awkwardly. ‘I don’t drink any more.’

  He laughed and for a moment she saw a flash of the old Joly. The one who had charmed her. The one who had charmed everyone. ‘Me neither.’ Then his eyes grew steely. ‘What made you give up?’

  ‘Us.’ The word flew out of her mouth before she could take it back. ‘If we hadn’t drunk too much that night it might not have happened.’

  His eyes grew even steelier. Instantly she realised she’d said too much. Assumed too much familiarity before it was time.

  ‘Is that what you think? That we made out because we’d had too much to drink?’

  Made out? Was that how he saw it? For her, it had been love …

  She nodded. ‘Why else would you have wanted me when you had Georgina?’

  He turned away, facing the windows. Beyond was a dry patch of grass and beyond that, the sea sparkled. ‘You never did have any confidence, did you, Georgie? Was that why you killed her?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ Any pretence at dancing round the subject was gone. Desperately, Georgie grabbed Joly’s arm. The touch of his skin against hers was electrifying. Both sprang apart, horrified at what she had done. ‘I didn’t murder her,’ she said tightly. ‘It was some boy. I tried to explain at the time. He attempted to kill me too.’

  ‘You had blood on your hands.’ He spat out the sentence as if it was venom.

  ‘I was trying to stop Georgina’s wound. And some of that blood was his – the boy’s. I cut him. With the knife. It’s him you should have chased.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘Describe him.’

  This was her only chance. She had to seize it. For all she knew, the police were on their way now. ‘He was small. Dark. Like all the others. And he had a limp. Yes, that’s right. When I – when I cut him, I got his face. And then he ran off into the forest …’

  Those lips which had once pressed itself against hers, curled with disbelief and scorn. ‘He had a limp? Then how could he have got away? The police combed the woods. After they arrested us, that is.’

  His face was almost black with fury now. ‘Do you know, they tried to pin her death on me? Then they found the drugs. Hard evidence. Something that was guaranteed to put us all in prison – including you, except you had run away.’

  He grabbed both her hands and pulled her down onto the sofa next to him; forcing her to look at him. His eyes were wild. His face flushed with anger. ‘Do you have any idea what it was like in there? We were starving most of the time. Desperate for water. They kept us in isolation so we couldn’t talk to each other. Vanda was … Vanda was abused …’

  His voice trailed away so she had to strain to catch his words. ‘We could hear her through the walls.’

  Now his eyes were ablaze with fury and wet with pain at the same time. ‘It was hell. Pure hell.’

  This was worse than she’d imagined. Georgie put her head in hands. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I don’t blame you for running away.’ This last part was so unexpected that she lifted her head to look at him. ‘But I do blame you for killing Georgina. My beautiful Georgina. I know you must have been jealous of her but your own sister …’

  ‘What?’

  Georgie felt as if she’d been dealt a blow to the head. Then she shook herself. He must mean ‘sister’ in the general sense.

  ‘That’s right.’ His words were crisp and clear. ‘Your own sister.’

  Joly stood up and walked towards the mahogany desk by the window. Opening a drawer, he removed a small wooden box and handed it to her. ‘I found this amongst her possessions when they let me out. I knew about the adoption, of course. She’d told me years ago.’

  ‘What adoption?’

  The thought flitted through her mind that Joly and Georgina might have had a child together. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, yet she found herself hoping that wasn’t so. Quite why, she wasn’t sure.

  Joly’s eyes were steely. ‘Open the box. Then you’ll understand.’

  There was a birth certificate. A mother’s name. Angela Smith. Her mother? That was surely impossible. Underneath the title of father was an empty space. Then there was an adoption certificate.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she wavered.

  ‘Read the letter,’ commanded Joly. His voice scared her.

  My darling Georgina,

  One day when you read this, I hope that we might have been reunited. But if not, I need you to understand why I had to give you away. I wasn’t married to your father. In those days that was a sin, especially in the Catholic faith. There was a middle-aged couple at church. They were rich. They could give you everything you need. But they only wanted one of you. I had to choose. My parents made me.

  I didn’t know which one to give them. Forgive me. You were both so alike yet you had more of a knowing air about you, even at such a young age. I felt you might survive adoption better than your twin who was smaller; sicklier; and yet the mirror image of you in almost every feature.

  I made one stipulation. You were to be called Georgina after my grandmother: the only person who said I should be allowed to keep you. I insisted you were to retain your surname – that of your father. Smith. I also called your sister Georgina. It was the only way I could keep you girls together.

  I know that I will never get over the guilt. I am aware, already, that I can never love your sister as much as I should. Forgive me, Georgina. You will always be with me.

  Georgie felt her body shake as if it wasn’t her own. ‘My mother had twins? She gave one away? That’s impossible. It’s too much of a coincidence. Besides, my father died when I was young. This suggests she wasn’t married at all …’

  Joly shrugged. ‘It was a common excuse for unmarried women at the time. As for the coincidence, that’s what I thought when I first read it. But they happen in life.’

  Joly turned away but not before she saw the pain etched on his face. ‘She’d spent her life searching for her other half, as she called it. That’s why she attached herself to you at the airport. “Joly,” she said to me. “I think I’ve found her. She’s so like me that she has to be!” She wanted to ask you outright instead of probing into your background with the odd question about your mother. But I told her not to. I told her to wait. I was worried you might pretend you were her sister just to get your hands on her inheritance.’

  There’s something I need to ask you.

  Wasn’t that what Georgina had said, on the evening she’d been feverish? Dear God. The shell. It wasn’t just a sign of friendship. It was a gift between sisters. But neither of them had known it.

  Georgina had suspected it, though. She could see that now. All those odd remarks about secrets. Maybe she thought Georgie knew about her missing twin and was trying to coax the truth out of her.

  Then there were the questions about her mother and where she’d grown up. Whether she had brothers or sisters. Questions which seemed innocuous on the surface but which clearly had a hidden agenda.

  I also called your sister Georgina. It was the only way I could keep you girls together.

  How tragic. How utterly tragic …

  ‘You were alike yet different,’ continued Joly. His knuckles were clenched, she noticed. ‘That’s what different upbringings do to you.’

  It was true. Horribly true. If none of this had happened, they would each have gone their own ways and been none the wiser. Georgie wanted to howl. She’d always wanted a sister. Or a brother. Anyone to share her mother’s wrath with. To think she’d had a twin. To think she’d laughed with that twin. Enjoyed her company. Admired her. Revered her, almost. Wished that she could have had the confidence that made the real Georgina so special.

  Then his face hardened again. ‘And you were jealous of her. That’s another sisterly trait, isn’t it?’

  That was true, too. Much as she hated to admit it, she had been jealous of Georgina. It was so un
fair, she’d often thought, that one person could have so much and the other so little. How weird that the slightest difference in appearance – the kink in her nose, the small gap in her teeth – could make the difference between beautiful and merely pretty.

  ‘She had the better deal,’ Georgie now spluttered. ‘She had parents who loved her.’

  Joly snorted. ‘Hippy cocaine-heads who should never have been allowed to adopt in the first place.’

  ‘But did they love her?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘My mother disliked me.’

  ‘Yet now you can see why. The letter told you. She felt guilty.’ Joly’s tone was slightly softer. Then his face tightened. ‘But that still doesn’t excuse murder.’

  Georgie heard her voice come out in a shout. ‘I DIDN’T KILL HER! When will you believe that?’

  Flinging herself down on the floor, she began to pound the carpet like a child. ‘And now I’ve lost her. I’ve lost my sister. Not just once, with her death. But twice because of what you’ve just told me. And if this is true, I’ve lost my father too. Mum always said he’d died before I was born but this – this makes me feel I don’t know who I am any more.’

  His face faltered. She could see the uncertainty in his face. ‘I did tell them you were innocent,’ he murmured. ‘But they wouldn’t believe me.

  ‘Who? Vanda and Jonathan?’

  His face confirmed her suspicions. ‘They always disliked me,’ she said, the tears still wet on her face. ‘Jonathan had made a pass at me. He was cross because I turned him down. And Vanda wanted you. Don’t you see? Now they’ve ruined my life. They blackmailed me into telling my husband everything about my past. Now he wants nothing more to do with me. Any minute now the police will come and …’

  Joly stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, isn’t that what you’re going to do? Get me arrested? Vanda said I had to pay. I presume the police are still looking for me. I had blood on my hands, remember? I was trying to stem Georgie’s blood but no one will believe that.’

  She sank onto the sofa, tears gushing out. ‘Now they’ll put me in prison, just as they did to you … I’ll never see my children again …’

  ‘Shhh, shhh.’

  Joly’s arms were around her. Stroking her back comfortingly. His voice was assuring like a parent. ‘I’m not going to call the police. As far as they’re concerned, it’s a closed case.’

  ‘Why?’

  He moved away and she felt a pang of loss. ‘Because I did a deal with them.’ He gesticulated to the furnishings in the room. ‘How else do you think I’ve managed to buy a hotel? Why else do you think I have stayed here? Everyone’s crooked in this place. I promised to keep my ear to the ground; help the police if they wanted to know something about the locals or visitors. In return, they grease my palms provided I grease theirs.’ He shrugged. ‘It suits me.’

  It didn’t seem right and yet …

  At that moment, a beautiful young girl with olive skin passed by the window. She exchanged looks with Joly. Instantly, Georgie suspected there was something between them.

  ‘So why did you want me to come here if you didn’t want me arrested?’ whispered Georgie.

  ‘Because I wanted to see if you were guilty. Wanted to see it in your face when I showed you Georgina’s things.’

  It was beginning to make sense now. ‘You thought that if I’d realised I’d killed my own sister, I might confess to it.’

  ‘Something like that.’ He put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. ‘Or maybe show me in your face that you were lying.’

  ‘So I’ve passed the test?’ Her words came out mockingly.

  ‘Yes. Not like before.’

  Her skin prickled. ‘What do you mean?’

  Joly’s eyes shifted. He wasn’t looking her straight in the face. ‘I wanted to test you, back then. See how loyal you were to Georgina.’

  Suddenly she realised. ‘That’s why you kissed me. Because a good friend – or sister – would have rebuffed you.’

  Silently, he nodded.

  ‘So I failed. You’re not telling me anything new.’

  ‘Actually, we both failed.’

  Georgie was so wrapped up in self-loathing that she almost didn’t catch the implication of what he’d just said. Had she got that right? ‘You failed,’ she repeated, ‘because …’

  ‘Because I wanted you.’ His eyes met hers this time. They were wet. ‘It wasn’t an act. That’s why I got so angry with you. It’s me I hate. It’s me who caused Georgina’s death. Not you.’

  It was true. Why deny it? Georgie watched as Joly shook his head as though nothing made sense any more and then strode over to the sideboard with bottles. For a moment, he stood looking at the bottle of whisky and then seemed to think better of it. Instinctively she knew why there was drink there. It wasn’t just to offer to guests. It was to test himself. To make sure he was strong enough to resist.

  Her sister! None of this seemed real.

  ‘But why now,’ she said urgently. ‘Why bring me out now to see you?’

  ‘We tried to find you after we were released,’ he said slowly. ‘We all did. But we couldn’t find you. In the end, it was pure coincidence. When your husband started to do some business with Jonathan, he told him about working in Bangkok. He mentioned that his wife had been there too. At first it seemed like one of those many ex-pat crossovers but as they got to know each other better, Jonathan began to realise that you might be Georgie. We suspected you’d taken her passport because yours was still there and hers was gone.’

  It was almost too much to absorb. But he was missing something. Something vital. ‘Vanda and Jonathan broke the law too,’ she broke in. ‘They took our money. It’s an imprisonable offence.’

  Joly shrugged. ‘That’s their problem. But knowing Jonathan, he’ll have covered his tracks. He’ll have had others doing the dirty work for him. Credit card fraud is a Godsend for some.’

  ‘That’s awful!’

  His face tightened again. ‘Who are you to talk? You committed identity theft.’

  It was true. Yet if her sister had been here, Georgie felt pretty certain she would have given her approval. She was about to say so to Joly when he cut in. ‘Look, I’m sorry it’s caused trouble with your husband. But now you can go back and say it’s all been sorted.’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘He has a thing about drugs. Rightly too. He won’t forgive me for being mixed up in them.’

  ‘But we were kids.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter in his book.’

  Joly shrugged. ‘Hasn’t he ever done anything wrong in his life?’

  She thought of Ellie. Could her beautiful stepdaughter be seen as ‘anything wrong’?

  ‘Not like that.’

  ‘Then that’s his loss.’ Joly looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Presumably you’re in no hurry to rush back then.’

  ‘Not really.’

  He nodded. ‘Then make yourself at home here for a few weeks until you decide what to do next.’

  A few weeks? Her ticket was open-ended but she’d promised Sam she’d be back in a fortnight.

  ‘You’re going to accept I’m innocent of Georgie’s death just like that?

  He nodded. ‘I like to think I’m a good judge of character. Besides, what Vanda doesn’t know is that I wanted you back for another reason.’

  Her heart quickened. ‘What?’

  He gestured to the box. ‘That. I felt you deserved to know the truth. You didn’t get on with your mother. I always remember you telling me that. Maybe, when you do go back, you should make up with her.’

  FORTY-THREE

  I’ve got a brother I’ve never seen. Two sisters too. My dad had them before me. After he left us, he had three more kids.

  I don’t know where any of them are.

  Sometimes I wonder. Suppose I slept with my sister without knowing we was related?

  What you don’t know doesn’t hurt you.

  I try
to tell myself that when I think of my own kids. One boy and one girl. That’s what I’ve got. Five and six, they are.

  When my solicitor said I wanted to get in touch, he got another letter back from my baby’s mother’s solicitor. Now I’m not allowed to contact them. Not till they’re eighteen.

  How’s a kid meant to grow up without a dad?

  It isn’t right.

  Maybe that’s another reason why I do what I do.

  One day, I’ll earn enough money to make them all happy. I’ll buy them toys and stuff. Then they’ll love me.

  FORTY-FOUR

  The heat. The colours. Rich pink silks. The stunning greenness of the grass. The sea. Warm, even in the morning. Her room with its subdued lighting – electricity seemed less bright here and more tranquil as a result. The food (wonderful exotic fruit which she couldn’t name). And of course Joly himself.

  All these ingredients rolled into one like Chef’s mouth-watering concoctions, conspired to make Georgie feel as though this was the real world now. And that everything she’d left behind was a haze that didn’t matter any more. Even Georgina – her sister! – didn’t seem real. Her memories were so hazy of that short time they’d spent together that it was as if she hadn’t existed.

  How could coincidences like this happen? Or was it simply one that had bided its time? As Joly had said during one of their many long evening talks about Georgina, children were adopted all the time. Sooner or later they would bump into brothers or sisters, usually without knowing of the connection.

  ‘I don’t know who I am any more,’ she told Joly on the veranda where they had fallen into the habit of spending some time together before dinner. ‘I’d got used to being Georgina. But now I’m not sure.’

  His hand gently replaced a stray golden strand of hair which had fallen over her face. ‘You’ll always be the same young, shy girl to me, who simply didn’t realise how lovely she really was.’