The one face he was certain about was that of Sophie’s dead sister. He briefly looked at it, oddly moved by the thought that this lovely child was dead. Well, from the age of these photos, many of these people must be dead or very old by now – yet somehow that was not as heart-wrenching.
They had lived out their span, these old people, but the baby had died before it had had a chance to live. Steve felt his throat move roughly and pushed all the photos back into the envelope.
Well, that hadn’t told him anything. He had wasted his money. Or had he? Hadn’t all those faces told him something about Sophie? These were her people. Part of them lived on in her. Discovering something about them was to find out more about her.
Suddenly remembering that she had not yet talked to Vladimir, Sophie rang him in Prague, got his answerphone and left a message telling him where she was staying and that she would be flying back to London next day.
‘Don’t worry, you won’t have to pay,’ she added, explaining that her trip was being paid for by the TV network. ‘I’m officially going as a researcher and I’ll be working for their team while I’m there, but I’ll still file you stories about the political angle of the Gowrie visit.’
After she’d hung up she rang Theo’s flat and got Lilli.
‘Are you OK?’ she was asked anxiously. ‘Where are you?’
‘At Steve Colbourne’s hotel –’
‘I hope he got you a room of your own! If he makes a pass, flatten him.’
‘So far he’s been a perfect gentleman. He brought me here this morning and I haven’t even seen him since,’ Sophie said, not adding that she had several times wished he had not left her alone like that. She needed to talk to someone.
‘He’s lulling you into a false sense of security, that’s all!’ Lilli said darkly.
Sophie laughed. ‘Oh, come on, Lilli, all men aren’t like that! I think he has more class than to make a cheap pass. And I thought you liked him!’
‘What made you think that?’
‘He did. The way he tells it you trust him completely – or why did you give him my suitcase and let him pick me up at the hospital?’
Lilli laughed. ‘Well, OK, sure, I let him collect you from the hospital. He convinced me it was the safest idea, that nobody would try anything with him beside you. That’s just the trouble. The guy is plausible. He can talk a good story.’
Sophie grimaced. ‘Can’t he just? Well, don’t worry about me, Lilli, I’ll be fine. I shall be off to London tomorrow. I’ve rung Vladimir and left a message on his answerphone. Could you do me a favour? Ask Theo to cover for me while I’m away? I’ll be filing from Europe, but if anything interesting comes up here meanwhile, could he send Vlad something on it?’
‘Sure. He’s out shopping right now. Do you want him to ring you at the hotel?’
‘If he has time, thanks, Lilli.’
‘What’s it like, the hotel? As luxurious as it looks from the outside? I’ve never been able to afford to go inside.’
‘It’s a palace,’ Sophie told her, then started sharply as someone knocked on her door. ‘Sorry . . . somebody just arrived, I’ll have to go.’
‘Be careful!’ Lilli said, immediately anxious.
‘Yes, I will, don’t worry. I can see who’s outside through a spyhole. I won’t open the door if I have any doubts. Bye, Lilli.’
She hung up and went to the door, peered through the spyhole first. Her whole body jerked in shock as she recognized Don Gowrie standing outside.
5
He was alone; that astonished her just as much as the fact that he had come. Don Gowrie rarely made a move without being surrounded by people, but there was no sign of anyone else in the corridor. Sophie hesitated about letting him in – what if he tried to kill her again? But he wouldn’t dare. It would be too much of a risk.
She took off the chain, her hands trembling a little, and opened the door. For a few seconds he didn’t move or look at her; he looked past her into the room, his eyes flicking round it, checking that she was alone.
That made her smile. So he was nervous too! ‘Don’t worry, Mr Gowrie. There’s nobody else here!’
He walked inside, their bodies almost brushing, her nostrils picking up his scent; a mix of whisky and some sort of aftershave. Had he taken a couple of drinks before he came, to get up his courage? That made him seem more vulnerable and more human, and reassured her a little. Sophie closed the door and plunged straight in to the words she had been rehearsing to say to him ever since she left Prague all those weeks ago.
‘I want to see my sister, Mr Gowrie.’
‘Sssh!’ he muttered, and walked quickly across the room to the bathroom, glanced in there, then turned and pulled something out of his pocket, holding it up in one hand at waist level.
Sophie’s heart stopped. A gun!
‘No! Please . . . don’t . . .’ she cried in a voice that didn’t seem to come from her, shrinking back against the door.
A long thin aerial, like a witch’s finger, slid out of the black metal object, and Don Gowrie slowly swung round, pointing into each corner of both bedroom and bathroom. A low humming sound began and Sophie’s heart beat slowed.
It wasn’t a gun; it was some sort of electronic gadget. ‘What . . . what are you doing?’
‘Checking the place isn’t bugged.’
‘Bugged?’ That idea had never occurred to her until that second. Her stomach clenched in sickness. What sort of world had she got herself into? Back home, as she was growing up, everyone knew they were living in an atmosphere of secrecy, spying, betrayal, but she hadn’t expected to find the same fog poisoning American air.
‘Colbourne is up to every trick in the book. I wouldn’t put it past him to have this room bugged. This may look like a little toy but it’s guaranteed to pick up the most sophisticated bug.’ Sliding the gadget back into his jacket pocket, he coolly ordered, ‘Close the curtains, will you?’
She stiffened. ‘What?’ Her skin went cold.
‘Don’t get ideas. I’ve no intention of harming you. It’s another security measure. There could be someone in the building opposite with a camera with a telephoto lens trained on that window. They have equipment now which can pick up everything from half a mile away.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Wonderful world we live in, isn’t it?’ he added, oddly echoing her own thought a moment earlier.
‘I’m beginning to think I hate it,’ Sophie said soberly as she walked over to the window to pull the cord that drew the curtains together. The room behind her fell into shadow. She went back to the door and switched on the central light, feeling weird to be doing that in the middle of the day.
Don Gowrie sat down in the one armchair, beside the little table on which you could eat a meal sent up by Room Service. ‘I’ve only got five minutes free. We must talk quickly.’
‘I want to see my sister.’ She hoped she sounded calm; in fact she was still very nervous because of what she knew about this man. He had a lot to lose and was totally without scruple. Sophie knew she would have to watch him like a hawk.
Crossing one leg over the other, he contemplated the polished black cap of a swinging shoe. ‘Your mother is still in the Czech Republic. I checked.’
That was when Sophie felt a flicker of alarm for her mother. Why had he checked on her? Her mouth went dry.
‘If you hurt my mother, I’ll kill you myself!’
‘Don’t threaten me. Your mother and I had a deal. Part of the deal was that she swore never to tell a living soul. She had no right to tell you, especially now, after all these years.’
‘You have a nerve! How dare you talk about her that way? You took advantage of her! You knew she was almost out of her mind over my father’s death that day, that she was ill and worried, and didn’t know what she was doing. She would never have let you steal her baby if she hadn’t been so upset.’
His face turned dark red. ‘I didn’t steal Cathy!’
Sophie bristled, hating to hear him use that name. �
�Don’t call her that. Her name’s Anya.’
‘She’s Cathy to me! And I did not steal her. Your mother has obviously forgotten how she felt back then. It’s a long time ago. But she was desperate – the Russians had just invaded, your father had been killed, your mother was expecting any minute, she had no money, she was terrified, didn’t know what to do. She begged me for help.’
‘And you saw your opportunity! Your own child had died, you needed a child to take her place, so you talked my mother into letting you take Anya. She’s never forgiven herself for being so weak.’
Sophie remembered her mother’s face as she confessed that Anya was not dead, was alive and living in America. Mamma had blamed herself, but Sophie didn’t, she blamed Don Gowrie. The sister she had mourned as dead all these years, had loved without ever knowing, who had been her comfort when she was lonely, her one real friend all her life was not dead after all. It had been like hearing the grave open.
Sophie hadn’t been able to take it in at first. If she had had a sister during her childhood everything would have been so different. She would not have been so lonely, she wouldn’t have felt left out of the family circle of her mother and stepfather and their boys. She would have had her sister for support. How many times as a child had she wished that Anya had not died? Having her wish come true after all those years, in such a strange way, had left her dazed.
Especially when her mother huskily went on, ‘Sophie, I must see her again – you see, I’m ill, very ill . . .’
Sophie had looked at her sharply, hearing a note in her voice that sent a shiver of premonition through her.
‘What is it? What’s wrong with you, Mamma?’
‘Leukaemia.’
Sophie had taken a shocked breath, staring at her pallor, the dark shadows under her eyes, an air of exhaustion, a lack of energy she had noticed the minute she arrived back home. Her mother had never been a big woman, but she had visibly lost a lot of weight since Sophie last saw her, she had shrunk away to nothing.
‘Is it . . . serious?’ she whispered, but she guessed the answer before her mother spoke.
‘The doctors have given me three months.’
‘Three months . . .’ That was an even bigger shock.
‘They said I should have seen them sooner. The illness has gone too far, there’s nothing they can do for me now.’
‘But surely they are trying something? Can’t you have some treatment? Chemotherapy? There must be something.’ Her mother’s resignation made Sophie burn with rage. ‘Don’t just give in, Mamma. See the doctors again – make them try to help you.’
Her mother had gestured wearily, not wanting to talk about her illness. ‘Never mind that, Sophie. Listen, you must find Anya, bring her back to me – I can’t die without seeing her one more time, I’ve never forgotten her, tell her that, she was my first baby, I remember her more and more. I must see her. Promise me you’ll find her and bring her back to me.’
Sophie had nodded, her eyes insistent. ‘Yes, I’ll promise to do that, Mamma, if you promise me you’ll go to see your doctors again, at once, and ask them for treatment.’
Her mother had promised and when Sophie had talked to her again last week on the phone Mamma had said she was having fortnightly treatments at the local hospital. ‘They exhaust me, I get so sick afterwards, though,’ she had whispered, and Sophie had winced at the weakness of her voice.
‘Don’t give up going, Mamma,’ she had pleaded, and her mother had promised she wouldn’t.
‘Have you found Anya yet?’
‘I shall see Gowrie in three days’ time. Don’t worry, I’ll soon have news for you. You’ll see Anya soon, I promise.’
She had made that promise to a dying woman, but she made it for herself too. She had begun to realize that when she found her sister she could talk to the living, not the dead; could see Anya face to face, hear Anya’s voice answering her.
Don Gowrie got up from his chair and began restlessly walking round and round the room, to the door and back, to the bathroom and back, like an animal in a cage. She felt the frustrated rage from him, the scent of danger, and watched him anxiously.
‘Why in God’s name did she tell you after all this time? Why couldn’t she go on keeping her mouth shut? I kept my side of the bargain. She’s had a small fortune from me over the years.’
‘Is that all you think counts? Money?’ Sophie felt her chest tear with contempt and anger and grief. All these years she had thought her sister was dead, and she was alive, and all this man could talk about was money. ‘My mother loved Anya –’ she began and he broke in hoarsely.
‘I love her too, do you think I don’t? Not in the beginning, OK, not then, I hardly knew her at first, but I learnt to love her as if she was my own. I forgot she wasn’t. My God, this happened nearly thirty years ago.’ He swung and glared at her. ‘Your whole lifetime! Have you thought of that? You hadn’t even been born, I’ve had all those years with Cathy and –’
‘And we haven’t!’ Sophie was trembling with indignation. ‘My mother hasn’t set eyes on her own child all this time. I haven’t seen my own sister!’
‘If you care about your sister you wouldn’t be here!’ Don Gowrie said grimly, and Sophie froze, looking at him with pain, feeling a thorn pierce her heart.
He nodded at her. ‘Don’t look at me like that – you know it’s true. I’m terrified for her. What do you think it will do to her, to find out she isn’t who she thinks she is? You just arrive, after all these years, full of self-righteousness, talking like some avenging angel, demanding to see her, wanting her to know she is your sister – and if you tell her, you’ll destroy her life.’
‘My mother is dying,’ Sophie said fiercely.
He stared at her, his breathing audible.
‘She has leukaemia, and has been given three months to live. She wants to see her daughter again before she dies.’
‘God,’ he said in a low, shaken voice. ‘I’m sorry. I’m very sorry, but . . . look, it isn’t going to save your mother’s life if she sees Cathy, but it will ruin Cathy’s life. She has grown up believing herself to be my daughter, believing herself to be Eddie Ramsey’s granddaughter, and his heir. Now you’re going to take all that away from her.’
Sophie was icy cold now. Her knees were trembling; she sat down suddenly on the end of her bed.
He watched her stricken face, nodding. ‘You’re going to change the way she sees herself, her whole life, how she sees me and her mother, her grandfather, everything she has grown up believing to be her family, her history, her roots.’
Confusedly, Sophie muttered, ‘But they aren’t . . . she isn’t . . .’
‘But she believes they are! You’re going to take away her past and her future.’
Sophie looked at him dumbly.
He searched her face, his own tight, sombre, angry. ‘You stupid woman, you haven’t even thought about what havoc you’ll cause, have you? You’ll bring Cathy’s whole world crashing down. For a start, you don’t know Eddie Ramsey. He won’t leave his money to her once he knows she isn’t his flesh and blood.’
‘He need never know! Cathy could come and see my mother, just once, and Eddie Ramsey doesn’t have to be told anything about it.’
‘You talk so glibly about it all – if Cathy finds out how long will it be before she gives it away somehow? She’s a woman. Women can never keep secrets.’
‘You just don’t know women! They keep secrets all their life. Look at the way my mother kept your secret! Nearly thirty years!’
‘She should have taken it to the grave!’ he snapped, then realized what he had said, looked self-conscious and plunged on, ‘And then there’s her marriage – what will the truth do to that? How will her husband feel when he finds out that he is married to a totally different person to the woman he thought he’d married? He’s this classy Englishman, upper-class, rich, who thinks he married a girl from his own background, a girl with a huge fortune coming to her one day. He didn’t b
argain for waking up married to some nobody from nowhere with not a penny to her name.’
Sophie’s mind clouded with doubt. She wished she could deny what Gowrie was saying, throw it back into his teeth. She wanted to see her sister face-to-face so badly that she had convinced herself that Anya would feel the same, but what if Anya refused to believe her? In her position, would anyone want to believe a story that could destroy their entire life?
Don Gowrie came and sat down next to her on the bed, took both her hands. She stiffened, pulling her hands free. He wasn’t getting round her; she already knew he was a consummate politician, you couldn’t take anything he said or did at face value.
‘You’ve heard your mother’s version, it’s only fair you should hear mine now,’ he said quietly. ‘Just listen, please. It was 1968. I only arrived in Prague that summer. I was a young and ambitious diplomat, East Europe was my special interest and I was thrilled to be sent to Prague. It was an exciting city to be living in at that time. The students were always out in the streets, in the cafés, playing music, playing chess and talking politics, talking about freedom and justice and the right to determine your own fate. They made me think in a way I’d never thought before – made me realize how lucky I was, as an American, how many things I’d taken for granted. My country had never been invaded, held down, oppressed. Freedom was my birthright but I’d never even thought about it, I’d always taken it for granted, like the air I breathed. That year was a turning point in my life for many reasons.’ He paused, sighing, staring at the floor, his face grim.
Walking in Darkness Page 13
