by Tom Bale
Harry shook his head, mystified. ‘With what Ruth has told me about Laird, I’d wondered if he was involved in trafficking. You hear so much about women being brought over from Eastern Europe …’
‘And it happens,’ Keri said. ‘It’s slavery and torture, and the men responsible ought to be going away for life, rather than the pathetic sentences they get at the moment.’
She took a sip of water, a quick smile acknowledging her vehemence on the issue.
‘But the women who worked for Laird were mostly British, along with a few Europeans: Spanish, French, Scandinavian. There was no coercion – or not that I saw. And, for the most part, they looked after us.’
She gave him another smile, but it was uneasy, almost a grimace.
‘So why did you leave, if it was such a good set-up?’
‘Lots of reasons.’ She looked uncomfortable. ‘For one thing, I needed a break. And I had a dissertation to write. So …’
She shrugged. Harry felt there was more to come, so he pushed gently.
‘And Laird was okay about you leaving?’
‘He was fine with it. Completely fine.’
Another silence. This time Harry waited, said nothing, and finally she spoke again.
‘If you must know, I got pregnant, about a year ago.’ She issued a long, thoughtful sigh. ‘Occupational hazard.’
‘Really? You just mentioned contraception—’
‘Condoms split. The pill isn’t a hundred per cent effective. I’d had a tummy bug around the time it happened, so maybe that was the reason.’
‘And what did you … ?’
‘I didn’t.’ She swallowed, a little too heavily. ‘Miscarried, at seven weeks. Afterwards … well, I was in no state to work. It seemed like the right time to get out. So I did. Ran home to Mum with a story of a relationship gone sour, licked my wounds for a couple of months, then got myself together.’
‘So why come back? Especially if this is Laird’s territory?’
‘I like this part of the world. It’s been my home for most of my adult life. And I have nothing to fear from Laird.’
A slight wobble in her voice made him frown. ‘You’re sure about that?’
‘Look, there was hardly any risk in talking to Greg, because I trusted him to be discreet. But Ruth would sell me out in a heartbeat. If she comes near me, and then they get to hear about it, I’m finished.’
Forty-Eight
Alice pushed Renshaw on what he meant – how had her presence changed things? – but he wouldn’t be drawn. Her attempts to get an explanation were hampered by Evie as she became more and more agitated, her little feet pummelling her mother’s body.
They’d skirted the fields that lay behind Nerys’s home, the muddy path becoming sticky as it thawed. Now they were entering the copse of trees. Very quickly the light dimmed; the breeze dying away beneath the golden-brown canopy of leaves.
The trees were mostly beech, tall and wide with smooth grey bark. They walked over a thick carpet of fallen leaves, the surface dry and crunchy with a layer of mulch beneath. At the first clearing Alice stopped to focus on Evie, who was still writhing and complaining loudly. She lifted her out of the carrier and sniffed.
‘I need to change her nappy.’
Renshaw looked set to object, but nodded instead. ‘Very well.’
Shrugging off the coat she’d borrowed, Alice laid it on the ground and set Evie down on top of it. As she undid the pramsuit, Renshaw grunted unhappily and backed away, as if the noise and smells emanating from this little creature were more than he could bear.
Well, tough, Alice thought. She was growing equally weary of Renshaw.
After changing the nappy, she bagged it up, and said, ‘You don’t trust Nerys, but what is it you think she’s going to do? Betray you to Laird?’
‘I … I would not go that far.’ He was kicking idly at a pile of leaves, his hands thrust in his pockets like a bored adolescent. ‘The son, Michael … he has the eyes of a predator, does he not?’
He has his mother’s eyes, Alice thought, but she opted not to say so. She lifted Evie up, kissed her gratefully for co-operating, and placed her back in the carrier. Then she picked up the bag with the soiled nappy.
‘I’ll take this back with me,’ she said, in answer to Renshaw’s frown. ‘Unless we find a bin.’
‘Here.’ Before she could react, he had taken it from her, only to turn and fling it into the undergrowth. She let out a cry of protest, and he raised his hands to placate her. ‘There are more important things to consider.’
‘I know that. Don’t lecture me.’ A moment of angry silence. ‘Look, why don’t we just pack up and go? Isn’t that the best option for both of us?’
‘Is it?’ He turned, looking coldly amused. ‘For both of us?’
‘Yes.’ She refused to be taunted. ‘What are you worried about, really?’
He gave a slow blink, studying her carefully. ‘You are an intelligent woman. I see that now.’
It was such a patronising comment that Alice could only laugh, a reaction which Renshaw interpreted as a modest denial.
‘I mean it. What did you do before the baby came along?’
‘I’m a dental hygienist,’ she said, and added sardonically: ‘Thanks for asking.’
‘A useful occupation,’ was Renshaw’s only comment, which suggested he wasn’t very interested. He’d placed his foot on a fallen log and now it shifted unexpectedly, causing him to stumble. Alice muffled a snort of laughter. To conceal his embarrassment, Renshaw knelt down and fiddled with his shoe, pulling the lace free and retying it.
Noticing that Evie was sleepy again. Alice took long, exaggerated strides across the clearing, jogging the carrier up and down to enhance the rhythm of her movements.
‘What now, then?’ she asked as Renshaw stood up. ‘Because we can’t stay out here all morning.’
‘I agree. But I propose that you wait for a short time, while I go back to speak with Nerys.’
Alice thought he was joking. ‘Why? What difference does it make if I’m not there?’
‘I have a reason. An important one—’
‘Yes,’ she interrupted, ‘and as usual you won’t tell me what it is. Well, I’ve got an eight-week-old baby here, and soon she’ll need feeding again.’
‘I know, but—’
‘No, I’ve been far too patient up to now, far too meek and fucking reasonable, and I’ve had enough.’ She was gratified that the obscenity shocked him into silence. ‘All I want is to get on a train home. I should never have been talked into waiting till this afternoon, so if you want me out of the way, call me a taxi right now and Evie and I will be gone.’
‘With no money?’
‘I’ll bloody well—’ She broke off; swallowed.
What would she do?
Renshaw sighed. ‘Becoming emotional won’t help.’ He took a step towards her, glancing both ways as if checking to make sure they were alone; one hand still deep in his pocket.
Alice tensed. Had he lured her out here in order to kill her?
Another step closer. Alice wrapped her arms around the carrier, working out if she could outrun him.
Then he prised something from his pocket and dropped it at her feet. A packet of yellow paper. The size and colour were unfamiliar, so it took her a few seconds to register what it was.
Money. In euros.
Another bundle came from the same pocket. Two more from the opposite pocket. He unzipped his coat and produced another half dozen packets, these ones purple, in solid bricks. Lastly came a strong carrier bag, which he unfolded and placed next to the pile of money. Ignoring her, he knelt down and filled the bag.
‘How much ... ?’ It was all Alice could manage.
‘About half a million, in two-hundred- and five-hundred-euro notes. Barely enough to establish a new life.’ He stood up and held the bag out to her. ‘And too dangerous to convert in this quantity. I will have to leave the country, but first I need a few days to make t
he arrangements.’
He was still offering the bag but Alice wouldn’t take it. Irascibly, he dropped it beside her.
‘You feel this money is tainted, no doubt. That is good. It means you can be trusted not to run off with it.’
‘What?’ Alice stared at the bag. ‘How long do I wait?’
‘An hour should be sufficient.’ A smug smile. ‘You understand now? It is not that I need you away from the house. It is that the money must be safe while I speak with Nerys.’
‘Ah hour,’ Alice repeated miserably. ‘And then what?’
‘If I am satisfied she can be trusted, I will fetch you, and this afternoon you take the train home. If Nerys gives me reason for concern, then we take the car and leave right away. I will drive you to the station and give you money for a ticket.’
She nodded grimly. Renshaw was already turning away when she called: ‘Hold on. What if you don’t come back within the hour?’
His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he’d been hoping she wouldn’t identify that particular scenario. He reached into his trouser pocket and produced the phone he’d been letting her use. He pressed a few buttons, then tilted the screen in her direction.
She peered at the text: Alice, it’s Harry. I’m having to use a borrowed phone, too. Will explain all soon. If this really is you, tell me where we went for that weekend before Evie came along. And tell me you really are safe! I love you. Harry xx
The relief was indescribable: Harry was okay.
Then came the shock. The suspicion. ‘When did you get this?’
‘It was sent last night. There were other messages, attempts to reach you, but I deleted them. This I put in a folder, so you would not see it.’
Alice remembered how she’d been allowed to check the phone in the living room. She felt a tear come to her eyes and hated herself for it.
‘And what about my iPhone?’ She saw the truth in his eyes. ‘You wore out the battery, didn’t you, so I’d be forced to rely on you?’
He nodded. ‘I am truly sorry.’ Then, to her surprise, he thrust the Nokia into her hand. ‘You do not trust me, and you were right, in many ways. But I trust you, Alice. Keep this. Please wait an hour. If I do not return, you are free to call your husband, the police, anyone you wish.’
‘So I make my own way home? And what about all this money? How do I explain—?’
‘I will be back within an hour.’ A gesture at the bag. ‘This guarantees it, I assure you.’
Forty-Nine
Michael dutifully complied with his mother’s instructions. He drove towards the village and left the Range Rover in a cul-de-sac, about a ten-minute stroll from the house.
Walking back, he called Robyn to apologise. Somehow she had dropped Betty at her drama class, rushed Chloe to football, then made it back in time to see Betty take part in a display of modern dance.
‘And Junior was all right with that?’
‘Oh yes, he adores our little car journeys, although there is something funny. A couple of his outfits are missing. You know those purple dungarees my sister bought him?’
Michael grunted, not interested. ‘I’d better get back to Mum. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
A soft laugh. ‘Oh, no hurry, darling. Your mother comes first.’
He analysed her tone for traces of sarcasm and found none. Then Junior squealed in the background and Robyn said she had to rush, blew him a kiss to pass to Nanny Nerys and rang off.
‘Nanny Nerys’ was grimly excited when he reached the house. She’d managed to get hold of Mark Vickery.
‘I said I’d heard he’s looking for Renshaw, and that I might know where he is. Vickery played it cool but I could tell he’s interested. Very interested.’
‘Did you talk terms?’ It worried Michael that his mother had chosen to make the call in his absence. He wondered if she still had reservations about confiding in him – and that was the real reason he’d been sent to move the car.
‘Not yet. But Vickery will know I’ll be expecting a reward of some kind.’
‘So now what?’
‘Sort out your hiding place,’ Nerys said, with a grin so wicked that it made her look ten years younger. ‘And then wait for them to come back.’
He studied her for a moment: those big eyes glowing with vitality. ‘You’re getting a kick out of this, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t know about that. I’d be a lot happier if Renshaw had never got in touch, but since he has …’ She shrugged. ‘A change is as good as a rest, isn’t that what they say?’
They didn’t have to wait long. Nerys was upstairs, tidying the nursery, when she shouted down to him: ‘Edward’s on his way across the field.’
In the kitchen, Michael was idly flicking through the Mail. He threw it aside when she called out again: ‘Alice isn’t with him.’
He raced upstairs, joined Nerys in the guest bedroom and watched Renshaw marching along the path. Was it his imagination, or did Renshaw look slightly less rotund?
‘Where is she?’ he asked. ‘What’s he done with her?’
Nerys grasped his arm and spoke in a soothing voice. ‘And the baby, remember? He can’t have harmed them.’
‘But what if he’s let them go?’ Michael knew he sounded hopelessly bereft, a boy whose most treasured toy has just been snatched by the school bully.
Tutting, Nerys eased him away from the window. ‘We’ll have to see what he says, won’t we?’
Initially she’d been reluctant for him to do anything other than wait in an adjoining room, but Michael had insisted on staying close to the action. Having decided that her country kitchen was the least intimidating place to speak to Renshaw, they’d cleared space for him to hide in the old-fashioned pantry. It meant he had to crouch below a shelf of tins and dried pasta, hemmed in tight by the side walls. The door was held shut by a roller catch, but the slightest pressure would open it. The air reeked of stale onions. Within seconds Michael had a dusting of flour on his face and had to pinch his nostrils together to suppress a sneeze.
A minute or two passed before he heard them come in, his mother referring to Alice when she said: ‘… could have gone upstairs, if you’d wanted to talk in private. It’s a big house!’
‘No. It is better if she and the infant are well away from here, until this is agreed.’
‘I see,’ Nerys said. ‘And what’s to agree?’
A chair creaked: Renshaw sitting down. Michael heard a cupboard open, mugs being placed on the worktop.
‘Several things. I cannot believe you have failed to spot the potential here. Their value.’ He paused. ‘Your son has gone now, yes?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I … I do not think it wise to involve him. This should be between us. Only us.’
The rush of water into a kettle obscured Renshaw’s next comment, but Michael heard his mother grumbling: ‘My conscience is clear. I gave those girls the best possible care.’
‘And yet, you have told your son nothing.’
‘Because it’s ancient history. Now, why don’t you get to the point?’
A soft, menacing chuckle from Renshaw. ‘The point, Nerys, is that this is not ancient history at all. The threat from Laird is real. I had hoped for sanctuary here, but I fear it would not be safe to stay.’
‘Nonsense. And I’m offended, frankly, that you could say so.’
Michael smiled. His mother sounded so indignant that he felt a momentary pang of sympathy for her position – as if she wasn’t intending to betray Renshaw for the right price.
Renshaw went on, unrepentant: ‘It is better that I leave. But I will need money.’
‘You’ve got money, haven’t you?’
‘It is not sufficient. Clearly you have done very well here. This peaceful life in the countryside, it must be worth a lot to keep it this way?’
‘What are you saying, Edward?’
‘To keep silent about your present location, I must have some help towards my own retirement.’
Over the fizz of a boiling kettle, Nerys gave a spluttering laugh. ‘And if I don’t pay up?’
‘Please. Such things are ugly to discuss. Let us agree quickly on a deal, so that we remain friends. You also keep the, ah, “merchandise”, do not forget.’
Nerys said nothing. Michael could hear her making the tea. Finally she spoke, in a calm, reasonable tone.
‘How much do you need?’
‘As much as you can spare. Two, three hundred thousand …’
‘Are you serious?’ Nerys laughed again. ‘D’you think I have that sort of cash lying around?’
‘Entirely possible. Your late husband’s business was, what, antique importing?’
‘More or less. And Michael’s added a retail arm – a dozen shops now. But cash flow is really tight. The recession’s been hell for—’
‘Nonsense. This is a high-end market, and as we both know, the rich are richer than ever. I would be amazed if you or your son did not have a rainy day fund, hidden away from the taxman.’
Silence. Michael struggled to picture his mother, speechless with shock.
‘Also, I require a better car. Your son’s Range Rover would be ideal for my purposes.’
‘Edward …’ Nerys exhaled impatiently. ‘You can’t just roll up here and make all these demands.’
‘No? Then you would prefer it if Nathan Laird “rolls up here”, following a tip-off that you helped me escape?’
Fifty
So there it was. No doubting where they stood now, Michael thought. His mother’s warnings had been entirely vindicated.
Almost through gritted teeth, by the sound of it, she said, ‘This is bloody unfair, Edward. You haven’t even told me why you’re in so much trouble.’
‘You know what you need to know.’
‘Bullshit. I’m not giving you a penny till you tell me why Laird’s so desperate to find you.’
