Naomi sat up sharply in bed and tried to shake off the drowsiness. Her eyes burned. Dan’s message was three hours old. ‘My prisoner is yelling the house down about owed money. She’s scared, Naomi. I’ve told her you’ve taken the money and run. I hope you know what you’re doing.’
Naomi, still half-dead with fatigue, replied to Dan, ‘I hope so too. Gag her.’
She rose from the bed and hurried to the wardrobe to find the right thing to wear. There was no such thing. Still, having to settle on something, and quickly, she pulled out a bold red blouse, a tight black pencil skirt and long heeled boots, and the whole time she prayed that God would forgive her for what she was about to do.
28
Camilla stood outside Naomi’s bedroom, hand on the door handle, trying to work up the courage to open the door. It wouldn’t come. Head bowed, eyes closed, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She looked round to find Annabel, red-eyed, hair in untamed curls around her face.
‘Haven’t you been in there yet, Mum?’
Camilla shook her head. ‘Not since the wedding day.’
‘I haven’t been in either.’ Annabel moved to Camilla’s side and watched her mum’s bony hand resting on the door handle, knuckles white. Annabel covered Camilla’s hand with her own. ‘Together?’
Camilla’s eyes flooded with tears. She couldn’t help it. Annabel pressed her hand until the catch was released and the door swung open. They stood hand-in-hand in the doorway, not daring to go in. Camilla scanned the room cautiously, noting how Cynthia – the woman she’d sacked for negligence – had left the room exactly as instructed. The bed was carefully made. The curtains that framed the two parallel windows had been prettily arranged. Naomi’s dressing table had been tidied. Cynthia had gone to the trouble of leaving an arrangement of flowers in a crystal vase. The flowers had wilted.
Annabel tugged gently on Camilla’s arm. They walked inside the room together and looked round without speaking. The bathroom door was ajar. Naomi’s fluffy white bath robe hung on the bathroom side of the door. At the sight of this, Camilla broke down. For days, she’d kept herself intact in front of the family. Now Annabel stood watching her, open-mouthed.
‘Mum, are you crying?’ she asked, needing confirmation.
Camilla nodded. Annabel took Camilla in her arms and held her. They stood for minutes until Camilla led Annabel to the bed and they dropped down.
Camilla mopped her eyes and looked at Annabel. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘For crying?’
‘No, for falling short as a mother and failing to accept your individuality, because I was too short-sighted to appreciate it.’
Annabel didn’t respond. Her eyes filled with confusion and fresh tears.
Camilla carried on. ‘I want you to know,’ she began haltingly, ‘that I’ve never favoured Naomi above you.’ She stopped. Annabel listened in silence. ‘I’ve always loved you both equally, but . . .’ she swallowed and allowed the tears to fall without checking them, ‘you remind me of my father, Annabel. You have his eyes, same colour.’
‘I don’t understand –’
Camilla held up a palm. ‘Of course you don’t. How could you?’ she said gently. ‘I never intended to tell anyone, but now he’s gone it’s time I offloaded.’ Henry was standing in the doorway. Camilla didn’t know how long he’d been there. She signalled for him to join them. He might as well know too.
Henry sat beside Camilla. ‘I’ve always known about your father,’ he said.
‘You have?’
Henry nodded and placed an arm around Camilla’s shoulder. ‘He admitted it to me before we went to South Africa. I think he knew he might never see you again. He said that when the time was right I should tell you he was very sorry.’
‘What about?’ Annabel asked.
Camilla looked steadily into Annabel’s eyes and took her hand. ‘He was cruel. I had no label for it back then, and no vocabulary to explain myself to anyone even if I’d had the courage.’
‘Granddad?’
‘Yes. You know, the house where I grew up was Victorian. It had a cellar. If my mother was out, he’d shut me in there in the dark for doing the slightest thing wrong. The first thing I saw when he opened that heavy door, was the colour of his eyes. He was older than my mother. Served in the Second World War and brought all the damage home with him. He was distant, impossible to please, vicious temper. Occasionally it got out of control and he’d lash out, especially if I cried.’
‘I got the impression he was quiet and withdrawn.’
‘In later years, he was. He’d never let me practise the piano because of the noise. I desperately wanted to play, but he’d stop me and I’d end up retreating to the garden and studying the plants. I grew to love them.’
‘I hardly remember him,’ Annabel said.
‘I took you and Naomi to South Africa when you were small because I didn’t want you to remember him. We came back once he’d died. Part of me feels guilty about that.’
‘I thought we came back because of what happened to Naomi.’
At the mention of her name, Camilla’s chest felt too heavy. Her eyes refilled and a feeling of utter devastation pressed down. ‘That was only part of it. I didn’t really want to come back, but once he’d gone, I thought I should look after my mother, what was left of her. And now I can’t stop thinking that if we’d only stayed over there in a safer part, Naomi would still be . . . ’
‘Mum, this is not your fault. We all feel guilty. I should have come back for her wedding.’
‘That was my fault too,’ Camilla said, gripping Annabel’s fingers.
‘No Mum, honestly, that decision was all mine. I couldn’t face Nathan and I feel terrible about that now. Did you see him being interviewed last week? He’s heart-broken. Imagine how bad he feels that he wasn’t with Naomi when she . . . you know. Apparently, he offered to go on deck with her, but she refused. He’ll always relive that night. He’ll never forgive himself.’
Camilla shrugged. Henry gave her a silent squeeze. ‘A mother wouldn’t have taken no for an answer. I have no room for Nathan’s feelings, Annabel, when I can’t come to terms with my own.’
‘You can’t blame him, Mum. He did everything he could to find her. He has to fly home tomorrow without her.’
‘I don’t blame him, I just regret the day she ever met him. In any case, you’re my priority, not him.’
Annabel wiped her eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘I will always worry about you. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Annabel. I am. I like to appear competent and measured and controlled, but the truth is it’s a veneer to cover the fear and pain that never leaves me.’
Annabel swallowed hard. ‘I get it, Mum.’
‘I never told Naomi that I loved her.’
‘You didn’t need to, Mum.’
Camilla allowed her head to drop. ‘She rang me, Annabel. The last time I heard her voice, she said just one word. My name. She sounded anxious. She got cut off. It was the night she went missing.’
‘Mum, come on, we’ve been over this. She was probably excited, not afraid. The signal from the phone was bad. She was cut off, that’s all.’
Henry chipped in quietly, ‘Annabel’s right, love.’
Camilla shook her head firmly. ‘I’ll never forget her tone of voice. It bothered me enough to check the time. It was quarter to eight in the evening. Caribbean time that would be quarter to three in the afternoon. She wasn’t even using her own phone Why is that?’
‘What are you getting at Camilla?’ Henry asked.
Camilla had never shared the thought until now. ‘What if she was pushed?’
‘Murdered?’ Annabel went quiet for a long time. ‘Who’d do that?’
Henry sighed.
Camilla, having voiced the dreaded thought, couldn’t add any more.
‘No,’ Annabel said, eventually, ‘It makes no sense.’
‘Nothing has made sense to me for a long time now. I feel
like I’m losing my mind.’
Annabel twisted her body and faced Camilla. ‘Mum, listen, I’ve been thinking. Instead of sitting in the house all day like useless people, maybe me, you and Dad, and Lorie and Nathan, should organise a service for her at the church where she got married. Don’t you think? We can play her favourite music, read one of her poems, invite her friends. She deserves a proper funeral.’
Henry said again, ‘Annabel’s right.’
‘Funeral?’ Camilla shot up. ‘No, no, I can’t,’ she said, heading for the door. ‘That’s as good as giving up. There’s a reason why she rang me distressed. Until I find out what it is, there’ll be no talk of funerals. No, I need to fly out there and look at things for myself.’
‘There’s nothing to look at but a vast ocean, Camilla. Please.’
Annabel sighed. ‘We’ve got to accept she isn’t coming home,’ she said to Camilla’s back.
Camilla paused by the door and glanced round, eyes flooded again. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t.’
<><><>
Naomi pulled up on a well-to-do residential street with wide pavements that were edged with a strip of grass and a row of trees that hung over and arched across the road. She looked at the address on Lorie’s phone. This was the house, number fifty-seven. She looked at it while she unfastened her seatbelt. It was detached. Dark brick, large bay windows with pretty stained glass in the front door that centred an open brick porch. There was a silver Mercedes on the drive. It was eleven fifty-seven. Three minutes to the deadline.
Naomi reached for her packed handbag and got out of Lorie’s Mini. Her eyes were hidden behind huge sunglasses. She hurried up a herringbone-paved driveway without breaking into a trot. Before she reached the door, it opened. There was nobody in the doorway. A black mat sat behind the door that led to a marble tiled hallway with white walls filled with modern art.
Stunned, she hesitated before stepping inside. A pumped up body appeared from behind the door and indicated she step forward. Her pulse quickened. It didn’t take her long to comb her memory and come up with a threatening guy in a grey hooded jacket. He had glassy dead eyes, non-descript colour. He was wearing a plain T-shirt that might well have been painted to his body. Biceps bulged beneath the sleeves. His shifty movements were chillingly familiar.
‘A minute more and he’d have sent me out looking.’
Naomi swallowed. ‘Nathan is still out of the country,’ she said, for something to say.
‘It’s our job to know where Nathan is while he owes us money,’ he said.
She kept hidden behind her sunglasses and decided she was safer in silence.
‘Brought the money?’
‘Yes.’
‘In cash?’
‘Yes.’
‘He’s waiting for you in the card room.’
Naomi wouldn’t have known where the card room was, but Lorie obviously did. She’d been here before and met these people. Naomi hesitated long enough for the big ugly guy to flicker his funny-coloured eyes in the direction of a door to her left. She noticed all the doors off the hall had keyholes. She imagined whoever lived here securing the doors at night before going to bed.
She stepped ahead of him into a huge bright room. It had big windows front and back and covered the length of the house. She took in a dark wooden floor, plush black leather sofas, black cast iron fireplace, more artwork on more white walls and a glass table close to the rear window. There was a door on the far wall that she would have assumed led outside. When she thought back, there was a garage on that side of the house. Beside the door was a heavy bookcase. She wondered if it doubled to cover the door. Seeing as it was the only other door in the room except for the one she’d just come through, she crossed the floor towards it.
Alone, she took hold of a polished silver door handle and pushed open the door. She was met by a hidden room with a view of the back garden. She guessed it was built behind the garage. The walls were lined with books on fitted book cases. From one glance, there was a mixture of fact and fiction with a section on history and Nazi Germany. Breaking up the books on the wall opposite the door, was a desk with box files and a flat computer screen and keypad, and a safe tucked into the corner. The back of a big black leather chair obstructed her view. In front of the window was another low glass table holding a pack of cards, face down, surrounded by six easy chairs.
A calm voice from inside the chair said, ‘I don’t like to be kept waiting.’
Naomi drew breath. ‘Neither do I, so let’s get this over with.’
The chair swivelled round. He was no older than about thirty. Slim, short fair hair, pale skin, sky-blue eyes that were intently watching her. His fingers pressed together like a steeple in front of his face. He was dressed in crisp dark trousers, white shirt open at the neck, polished black shoes. She was better able to hide the shock from behind her sunglasses. She didn’t know what the face of an evil person was meant to look like, but she’d never pictured this guy, living on a regular street in an immaculate home that looked out on a beautiful landscaped garden that even Camilla would have been proud of.
She stood free of the doorframe, resisting the urge to slump. Silence. Either he was as shocked as she was, or she was expected to speak next. She had time to collect her thoughts and become more anxious.
He spoke first. ‘Courtesy is very important to me, Lorie,’ he said, standing, walking towards her, stopping just in front. He was shorter than Nathan by about four inches. ‘An apology might be appropriate.’
‘I’ll have to disappoint you. Honesty is more important to me than courtesy.’ He was close enough to reach out and touch. Naomi pushed her glasses on top of her head and looked him in the eye. ‘It’s Naomi Hamilton. I don’t think we’ve ever met, but I feel as though I know you. One of your minions followed me, spied on me and threatened me not long ago, which wasn’t very polite.’
He didn’t respond immediately. His expression was unreadable. ‘You’re dead.’
‘Is that a wish, or a threat?’
‘I was led to believe it was a fact. Have you come alone?’ he asked, eyes narrowing and shifting.
‘Yes.’
‘If you’re lying to me –’
‘Why would I do that? I didn’t have to come here. No one in the world but you and Dan Stone knows that I’m alive.’
Again, he stared at her without speaking. She held his eyes.
‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, as if he was thinking out loud. ‘I could blissfully get lost in those eyes for a very long time.’
She didn’t react, but her nerve faltered. She’d dressed for confidence, not appeal.
He switched subject. ‘OK, you’ve got my attention. What are you doing here, Mrs Stone?’
‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that.’
For the first time, a ghost of a smile played on his lips. ‘Fine by me.’
Naomi broke eye contact and took her bag from her shoulder and emptied the contents onto the glass table to her right. Forty-five thin bundles of fifty pound notes fell out. Each bundle held a thousand pounds, easily countable. She’d reserved five thousand for Dan. He glanced at the table, but didn’t budge.
‘Forty-five thousand,’ she said. ‘I’m here to pay Nathan’s debt and cut ties for good.’
His eyebrows twitched. ‘You realise he arranged to have you murdered? His idea.’
‘Yes.’
A pause. ‘You say he doesn’t know you’re alive?’
‘That’s right.’
He frowned. ‘You’re not about to give me a sickly sermon on the virtues of love and forgiveness I hope.’
‘I wouldn’t waste my breath.’
‘In that case, I’m intrigued. You’ve succeeded in surprising me, which happens pitifully rarely,’ he said. ‘Tell me what you’re doing here.’
‘It has to stop now. You’ve taken my dad’s car, and every penny you’ve had from Nathan has come indirectly from my family, including that.’ She flicked a glance
at the table. ‘So, I intend to forget we’ve ever met and go home to my family. Nathan and Lorie will be punished by law for faking my death. Because I’m alive, no one’s going to look your way, are they? I don’t ever want to have to look over my shoulder again. And I want the same for Dan Stone. The only crime he’s committed is saving my life.’
He smiled, fully now. ‘You’re very demanding.’
‘It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.’
‘I can see that.’ The smile vanished. ‘I like women who know what they want.’ He lowered his voice and shuffled closer. ‘Do you realise what a vulnerable situation you’re in here, Naomi?’ He eyed her carefully up and down. ‘You’ve come alone – entered the lion’s den, you might say. No one knows you’re alive.’ He paused. ‘You’re an exceptionally attractive girl with no one to watch your back.’ His voice had dropped to a whisper. His mouth was inches away. Naomi didn’t recoil.
He continued. ‘Some girls get a kick out of danger. They’re not attracted to the nice guys who get them flowers and write poetic verses. They go for the bad boys to inject a little excitement into their lives. Are you one of those girls, Naomi?’
‘No.’
He smiled. ‘So, you’re a good girl then?’
‘I try.’
‘That’s good.’ He eyed her again, in no rush. ‘See, guys like me, when bad things go down, we like to come home to girls like you.’ He leant forward, tilting his head, stopping an inch from her lips. Naomi swallowed hard. ‘With your permission, I’d very much like to kiss you.’
She didn’t move. ‘I’m married. I’d very much like it if you didn’t.’
‘We both know your marriage is meaningless.’
‘When I stood in church with God as my witness, it wasn’t meaningless to me. So until –’
‘You’re a shrewd negotiator, Naomi, don’t hide behind God. How about one kiss and you can have your money back and leave. What do you say?’
Either Side of Midnight (The Midnight Saga Book 1) Page 36
