The Ties That Bind

by Anthea Fraser

  Holly’s smile faded abruptly, and it was clear to Fleur that she was wishing she could take back her last remark. Lynn, however, who’d been retrieving a handkerchief from her bag, hadn’t noticed. ‘I mean, since you usually like going out for a meal?’ she added into the growing silence.

  Holly bit her lip, but everyone was now waiting for her reply. ‘I was feeling miserable,’ she said in a low voice. ‘My best friend had … just died of breast cancer.’

  Fleur, in the act of lifting her glass, jerked and a red bead flowered on the tablecloth. Owen glanced at her briefly, but Holly was the centre of attention.

  ‘Oh, my dear!’ Lynn exclaimed, in her turn wishing she could retract her query. ‘How terrible for you!’

  Stephen leaned forward. ‘Darling, I really don’t think we need to go into that. This is supposed to be a celebration!’

  Holly flung him an anguished glance. ‘No, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—’

  To everyone’s heartfelt relief a couple of waiters arrived with their first courses, and as they moved away conversation started up again, with Stephen asking Owen about St Catherine’s College.

  Lynn, quietly listening, wondered how someone as sensible and authoritative as Stephen appeared to be could have abandoned his longstanding wife for this … schoolgirl. She’d been surprised to learn of his divorce, but then she barely remembered him, let alone his first wife; she’d met them only once, at Cassie’s christening nearly eighteen years ago.

  Holly had remained subdued after her earlier slip, and as the meal progressed Fleur again tried to draw her into the conversation by asking if she worked at the hospital with her husband. Both she and Lynn were surprised to learn of the position she held at the widely acclaimed Highfield College. Obviously they’d underestimated the young woman they’d subconsciously dismissed as Stephen’s child bride.

  Holly herself, who’d become animated when talking about a job she clearly loved, asked what subjects Cassie was taking for A-levels, and was interested to hear they included French and Spanish. ‘I wish I’d had a chance to speak to her,’ she said, ‘though she mightn’t have welcomed discussing exams at her birthday party!’ She took a sip of wine. ‘Is she at your husband’s school?’

  ‘Yes, both she and Verity go to St Cat’s,’ Fleur replied. ‘Jess didn’t, though – she was nineteen when we moved here and already at university.’

  ‘They’re lovely girls, and all so different. To look at them, you’d never know they were sisters.’

  Lynn, aware that the men were now listening, said quickly, ‘Well, they all have their own interests, of course. Verity’s the artistic one; even from a small child, I remember her being absorbed in drawing and painting. Takes after her mother!’ She flashed a smile at Fleur, who was an illustrator of children’s books.

  But Holly was not to be diverted. ‘What I meant was there’s no family resemblance. At school, I can usually tell which girls are sisters, even if they have different colouring.’

  Lynn had the sensation that everyone was holding their breath. Then, into the brief but somehow electric silence, Fleur said clearly, ‘That’s because Jess and Cassie are adopted. I thought Stephen would have told you.’

  So that’s what it was! Stephen cursed his sketchy memory. If only he’d pursued the thought earlier, he could have prevented what for some reason seemed to be a tense moment. Holly was looking both embarrassed and bewildered at the subtle change in atmosphere.

  ‘Then of course that explains it,’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m sorry – I should have thought.’

  ‘No reason why you should,’ Fleur replied briskly. ‘Owen, could you order some more coffee, please?’

  Lynn let out her held breath. So Fleur hadn’t changed her mind. She wondered yet again at what stage she’d feel the girls deserved to hear the truth.

  It had been a hateful evening. Holly had known as soon as she entered the restaurant that she was overdressed. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she’d somehow found herself telling them about Beth, which put a dampener on everything. And just as things were getting back to normal, she’d made that comment about the girls that had had such an odd effect – though why their adoption should apparently be a taboo subject, she couldn’t imagine.

  Owen and Fleur had dropped them off at their hotel, and as the bedroom door closed behind them she said tightly, ‘I’m sorry, Stephen. I ruined the evening.’

  ‘Of course you didn’t,’ he said, pulling off his tie. ‘You looked lovely.’

  ‘I looked like the Christmas fairy,’ she contradicted, ‘and every time I opened my mouth I made a faux pas.’ Her voice wavered. ‘You must have been sorry you brought me.’

  He turned to look at her, aware for the first time of how upset she was, and quickly took her in his arms. ‘The bit about Beth was unfortunate, but no more than that,’ he said. ‘And as for the adoption, that was my fault. I was remembering in the shower that there’d been some problem about their having children, but I just dismissed it. I could have spared you that if I’d only thought it through.’

  ‘But why should adoption be such a big deal?’

  ‘God knows. Come to think of it, though, at Owen’s stag do when there was all the usual ribbing about future sleepless nights and dirty nappies, he said, “You can laugh, but as it happens I can’t wait to be a father!” It seems he did have to wait to be a biological one, but Lynn said Verity’s inherited Fleur’s artistic talents, so it sounds as though they got there in the end.’

  ‘But it wasn’t Owen who reacted.’

  ‘Well, I suppose Fleur felt the same, though after twenty-five years and three lovely girls, you’d think she’d have got over it. And you were right – they don’t look alike.’

  He kissed her gently on the lips. ‘But enough of all that. Hurry up and take that gorgeous dress off, Mrs Penrose, because I want to make love to you.’

  My best friend died of breast cancer. Hours after the dinner party broke up Fleur lay rigid in bed staring up at the invisible ceiling, cold fear in her heart. On their return she’d surreptitiously felt for the lump, willing it to have gone, but it was still very much there.

  Surely people didn’t still die of breast cancer if it was caught soon enough? Not in this day and age? But catching it early meant seeing Dr Price next week and her heart quailed. Would he be able to tell her straight away that she’d nothing to worry about? Or would a biopsy be taken, and she’d have to wait unbearable days or even weeks for the result? And suppose it proved malignant? She shuddered.

  Should she tell Owen and ask for his advice? But she knew unequivocally what his response would be. If only Sue hadn’t had to leave early she could have confided in her, but despite her many friends in St Cat’s there was no one with whom she felt able to discuss her worry. Oh, please God, let it have gone by the morning!

  THREE

  Rachel Firth lay back on her sun lounger and tried to summon the energy for a swim. Beside her, Jess’s even breathing suggested that she was asleep and Rachel was loath to wake her, knowing she’d not been sleeping well since their arrival.

  ‘Jet lag!’ she’d said facetiously, when Rachel had commented on her restlessness.

  ‘Between Bristol and Pisa?’

  ‘Well, you know what I mean.’

  Rachel didn’t, and now admitted to herself that she was a little concerned. They’d been looking forward to this holiday for months, but ever since they’d met at the airport Jess had seemed subdued. There was clearly something on her mind, and Rachel had been hoping to hear what it was, that Jess would perhaps ask for her advice as she had in the past. They’d known each other since schooldays and had stayed in touch as their career paths diverged, managing despite commitments with various boyfriends to get together for a holiday each year.

  Rachel glanced at her watch. Just time for a quick swim, after which they must decide whether to have lunch here by the pool or seek a brief respite from the heat in the hotel restaurant. One decision, howe
ver, she had already reached. If Jess hadn’t told her what was bothering her before this evening, she would ask outright. Two heads were surely better than one.

  She took off her watch, glanced at her still-sleeping friend, and, avoiding a group of wildly splashing children, slid into the pool.

  It was seven o’clock and they were sitting on the hotel terrace with their aperitivi. Around them fellow guests, skin glowing after a day in the sun, laughed and chatted in a variety of languages. Several backs and shoulders were red rather than tanned, not boding well for a good night’s sleep. Which reminded Rachel of her decision.

  Twirling the swizzle stick in her glass, she began cautiously, ‘You haven’t said much about your new flatmate. What’s she like?’

  Jess shot her a quick glance. ‘Maggie? She’s OK, but if I’m honest we’re not exactly on the same wavelength.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, for one thing people keep dropping in all the time and staying till well after eleven – often as many as five or six at a time. It’s very disconcerting; I can never relax and just slob out because I never know when someone might turn up. Sometimes Maggie will just announce we’re going out for a meal, then on to a club. Not my scene, but they won’t hear of me not going.’

  ‘A bit much, I’d have thought, but presumably Maggie doesn’t mind?’

  ‘Quite the reverse, but I’d welcome the chance to relax occasionally after a busy day. And, of course, they’re her friends, not mine.’ She paused. ‘I say “friends”, but actually they don’t seem to have much in common.’ She gave a short laugh, remembering. ‘When I first moved in, one of them said, “Welcome to Maggie’s Lonely Hearts Club!”’

  ‘So who are these people? Haven’t they got homes of their own?’

  Jess shrugged. ‘From what I gather most of them are either separated or divorced, so she’s probably doing them a kindness. Individually I quite like them – or most of them – but I’d like them more if I didn’t see them so often!’

  ‘Why don’t you have a word? Suggest you have a quiet evening now and again, with just the two of you?’

  ‘I can’t do that. After all, it’s her flat and this routine was established before I arrived.’

  ‘Then why not look for somewhere else, if it’s getting you down?’

  Jess sighed. ‘I had been thinking of it,’ she admitted, ‘but now—’ She broke off and bit her lip.

  ‘Now what?’

  Jess shook her head dismissively. ‘It would be awkward, that’s all.’

  ‘Why would it?’

  ‘It just would. Look, I’m beginning to get hungry; shall we go in?’

  Rachel sat back and folded her arms. ‘Not until you tell me what’s wrong.’

  Jess stared at her, but her eyes were the first to drop. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jess! How long have we known each other? There’s been something on your mind ever since we set off, and it’s more than not getting on with your flatmate.’

  Jess’s fists clenched beneath the table. In this sun-soaked paradise the events of that day in Bristol seemed unreal, even ludicrous. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry, not good enough.’

  ‘OK, I was worried about something, but as there’s nothing I can do I’ll just have to forget it.’

  ‘Blood from a stone!’ Rachel muttered. ‘And what exactly will you have to forget?’

  ‘You’re not going to let this drop, are you?’ Jess said after a minute.

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘OK, well, if you must know, I saw something I shouldn’t have, but no one knows so I’m quite safe.’

  ‘Safe?’ repeated Rachel sharply. ‘I think you’d better start at the beginning.’

  Jess bit her lip. She’d almost confided in Patrick, but she realized now that had she told him he’d have tried to make her report it, which she dared not do. Yet she badly needed to tell someone, and who better than Rachel?

  ‘It was last Friday,’ she began slowly, ‘just before I set off for home. That morning I’d put my case in the car to save going back to the flat, so after work I went straight to the basement car park. Then I remembered I’d left my paperback in my room, so as I was in good time I decided to go and collect it.’

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Rachel when she came to a halt.

  Jess took a deep breath. ‘I went up in the lift and … let myself in. And … oh, God!’ Her hands flew to her face. ‘If the door hadn’t clicked shut behind me, I’d have run straight out again.’

  Rachel, increasingly alarmed, waited.

  ‘Someone was there,’ Jess continued from behind her hands, ‘lying on the floor.’

  Rachel frowned. ‘Your flatmate, you mean?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘A man. Someone I’d never seen before.’

  Rachel was confused. ‘You mean he was asleep?’

  ‘No,’ said Jess starkly, lowering her hands. ‘He was dead.’

  The sound of laughter around them cut off abruptly like the pressing of a mute button, locking them in their own frozen space. Rachel said shakily, ‘God, Jessie, are you sure? Mightn’t he just—?’

  ‘His eyes were open,’ Jess said, shivering in the heat, ‘and there was a red stain down the front of his shirt.’

  Rachel stared at her in horror. ‘What did you do?’ she whispered.

  ‘Just stood there. I wanted to run but I … couldn’t move. Then I heard someone outside and fled to my room, but I couldn’t close the door because when I’m out it’s always left open and if I had, whoever it was would have known I was there. I scrambled into the fitted wardrobe and slid it almost shut, and only just in time. The flat door opened and some people came in.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two, I think. They were talking in low voices, but I couldn’t make out any words.’ Jess shuddered. ‘I was expecting them to be as shocked as I was but they didn’t seem to be. Then the noises started, thumps and grunts and a dragging sound and someone swore.’

  She looked across at her friend, reliving the horror. ‘God, Rachel, I was terrified, standing shivering in the half-dark with my clothes brushing against my face. It was illogical, but I was sure they knew I was there.’

  Rachel leaned across the table and laid her hand over Jess’s. ‘But they didn’t, did they?’ she asked urgently.

  Jess shook her head. ‘Then I heard the door open and close, and after that there was silence. I waited several minutes before daring to come out.’ She stared at Rachel, her eyes wide. ‘And the incredible thing is that if I hadn’t seen that man with my own eyes, I’d never have known he’d been there. There was absolutely no trace of him – nothing at all. It was … creepy.’

  There was a short silence, then Rachel said, ‘The odds are one of them must have been your flatmate.’

  ‘I suppose so. Actually, I’ve just remembered – Maggie said she was taking the afternoon off. She’d have finished work at lunchtime.’

  ‘Then it’s even more likely. And looking at it logically,’ Rachel added carefully, ‘whoever removed him must have had a hand in killing him.’

  Jess nodded and took a quick drink of her aperitivo.

  Rachel thought for a minute. ‘What did he look like, the dead man?’

  Reluctantly Jess recalled her first horrified glimpse. ‘Older than us; in his forties, I’d say. Brown hair, grey eyes. Tanned.’

  ‘What was he wearing?’

  ‘Jeans and a T-shirt.’

  ‘And you’re sure you’d never seen him before?’

  ‘Absolutely certain.’ She shivered. A slight breeze had got up, cool on their sun-warmed bodies, and Rachel pushed back her chair.

  ‘Come on, let’s go in for dinner. You need some hot food inside you, and after hearing all that, so do I.’

  For the next fifteen minutes or so they were occupied in settling at their table and studying the menu, though neither felt much like eating. But as the waiter moved away with their order, Rac
hel said curiously, ‘What did the police make of it?’

  Jess was silent, looking down at her lap.

  ‘Jess?’ Rachel’s voice sharpened. ‘You did contact them?’

  Jess met her eyes defiantly. ‘To tell them what? That I saw someone I didn’t know lying dead on the carpet, but some people – I don’t know who – came and removed him? They’d think I was hallucinating. I’ve no proof any of it happened at all.’

  ‘But Jess, you have to report it!’ Rachel said urgently. ‘Someone must be missing him, his wife or someone.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry, but I’d be no help. And if the police did pursue it, whoever killed him would know it was me who’d contacted them.’

  ‘I don’t see why; someone else in the building might have noticed them arriving or leaving – or seen the dead man, for that matter. There must be security cameras. And if it was Maggie and her crew – and who else could it have been? – they’d think you were safely out of the way en route for Somerset.’ She paused. ‘After all that, did you collect the paperback?’

  Jess gave a rueful smile. ‘No. Though it was highly unlikely, I was afraid Maggie might have seen it on my table and noticed later that it was missing. As you know, I bought one at the airport, which I should have decided to do in the first place and saved myself this nightmare.’

  Rachel sipped thoughtfully at her wine. ‘Tell me about these friends of hers.’

  Jess lifted her hands helplessly. ‘Surely none of them—’

  ‘Well, someone did! Look, start with the men – they’re the most likely.’

  Jess frowned, staring into her glass. ‘If it was one of them, my money would be on Laurence.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘For one thing he’s the closest to Maggie – he quite often stays the night.’

  ‘Doesn’t make him a murderer!’

  But Jess didn’t smile in response. ‘There’s something about him that makes me uneasy. I wouldn’t like to be alone in a room with him.’

  ‘OK. Who else?’

  ‘Well, there’s Dominic. He’s a bank manager, I think, and recently divorced. Maggie said he’s on the rebound and he certainly drinks more than the others.’