by Anne Mather
Which left the unpalatable conclusion that Tony could have taken his own life. He might have been in a desperate state of mind and driven carelessly, but no one would ever know for sure. The discovery that Constantine Thiarchos had visited Sullem Cross the day before Tony died seemed indefensible. And it had caused a rift between Alex and his father that Linda doubted could ever be healed.
Since then, she went on, Alex had become virtually a recluse. He wasn’t interested in his work; he wasn’t interested in the promotion his father had given him in a desperate attempt to regain his love and respect. He had even refused to see his own brother. To all intents and purposes, he didn’t care about living any more.
And that could not be allowed to continue. Beth knew she couldn’t allow it to continue. Not if there was a hope in hell of making him change his mind. Linda was worried about him. His whole family was worried about him—and with good reason. That was why Linda had contacted her. She had wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t personally involved.
A bitter smile twisted Beth’s lips. If only Linda knew, she thought, as the morning train from Norwich to Liverpool Street neared the outskirts of London. If anything, she was more personally involved than any of them. She had a vested interest in helping Alex. She didn’t want her baby’s father to die.
Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth. Who was she kidding? she asked herself painfully. The reason she was on this train had little to do with Alex being the baby’s father. She was on her way to London because she loved him. Because she would do anything she had to, to change his point of view.
Of course, it hadn’t been easy finding out where he lived. She knew his telephone number wasn’t in the phone book. People like the Thiarchoses didn’t put their numbers on public display, and his office was unlikely to give her his address. Consequently, she had had to invent a reason to ring back, and that was why her journey had been stalled for another day.
As it was, she didn’t know if Linda had believed her, when she’d made the excuse of calling to ask if she would give her her address again, because she’d lost it. Her clumsy ploy, of pretending that because Linda had been out when she first rang she had thought of contacting Alex in Mayfair, had borne fruit, but she could tell Linda had been doubtful when she’d explained that Alex’s house was in Knightsbridge, not Mayfair.
‘Oh, yes. Aubrey Square!’ Beth had exclaimed, saying the first name that came into her head, and Linda had sighed.
‘No, Wilton Court,’ she had declared, with evident misgivings. ‘How did you know where he lived, anyway? I don’t remember him mentioning it.’
‘It—it was at the funeral,’ Beth had fabricated furiously. ‘I—heard people talking about going back to the house.’ She forced a laugh. ‘Thank goodness I didn’t try to reach him.’
‘You couldn’t have, in any case,’ Linda had responded flatly. ‘He’s not taking any calls. And, when I went round to the house yesterday evening, his manservant wouldn’t even let me in. As I said yesterday, he won’t see anyone.’
Which wasn’t exactly the most optimistic omen for her journey, Beth reflected wryly. Alex was turning away all callers, and she had yet to discover at what number Wilton Court he lived. She was hoping it was a short thoroughfare, with few houses. But what if it wasn’t? What would she do then?
Her ingenuity wouldn’t stretch that far. For the present, the fact that the train was slowing as it approached Liverpool Street Station was enough. ‘Sufficient unto the day’, she thought, wondering if this was the best time to be quoting the Bible. It was Aeschylus who had said, ‘The Gods help those who help themselves.’
She checked her appearance in the taxi taking her from the station to Wilton Court. Her navy suit and cream silk blouse were purposefully businesslike. She didn’t want Alex to think she wanted anything from him in exchange for the news she could give him. In addition to which, the loose jacket of the suit hid any obvious evidence of her condition. Indeed, even without the jacket, she was still remarkably slim. She doubted he would detect the truth should she decide not to tell him.
‘What number Wilton Court?’ enquired the taxi driver, glancing round at her now, and Beth licked her lips.
‘Oh—I—I’m not sure,’ she murmured, feeling the colour entering her cheeks. She crossed her fingers, and gave him her most appealing smile. ‘I’m afraid I’ve lost the address. I’m going to have to knock at someone’s door and ask.’
The driver gave her a sympathetic look. ‘That’s tough.’
‘Mmm.’ Beth glanced ruefully out of the window. ‘Are we nearly there? Do you know if it’s a very long street?’
‘Not very,’ the man replied reassuringly. ‘It’s just a terrace, overlooking Cadogan Gardens. Do you have a name, love, and I’ll ask someone for you? No need for you to go asking. You never know who you’re speaking to these days.’
Beth was surprised. ‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘No problem.’ He grinned at her in the rear-view mirror. ‘Do anything for a pretty woman, I will. My wife says I’m a real pushover. Now, who are we looking for?’
‘Thiarchos,’ said Beth quickly, before her failing confidence had her asking him to turn round and take her back to the station. ‘The name’s Thiarchos. It—it’s Greek.’
‘Course it is.’ The man nodded. ‘I’ve heard that name before. Something to do with shipping, isn’t it? Wasn’t the son killed a few months back in a car accident?’
Beth caught her breath. ‘I—that’s right.’
‘I knew it.’ The driver was pleased. ‘And, if I’m not mistaken, the house you want is Number Ten. I remember noticing it when the kid was killed. Always reporters outside, there was. Vultures!’ He grimaced. ‘Can’t leave anyone alone, can they?’
Beth licked her lips. ‘I—suppose they have a job to do.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ The man gave her a wary look. ‘You’re not one of them, are you?’
‘Heavens, no.’
Beth was vehement, and the driver nodded. ‘I thought not.’ He brushed the thought aside. ‘So, does that sound right to you?’
‘What?’ For a moment, Beth almost gave herself away, but then she quickly gathered her composure. ‘Oh—oh, yes. Number Ten. Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’ She managed to pull a wry face. ‘I’d forget my head, if it were loose!’
‘Like all women,’ agreed the driver cheekily, and Beth was still smiling when he turned off Knightsbridge Road, and brought the taxi to a halt outside a tall Georgian town house. ‘Here we are.’
Beth paid him before getting out of the taxi. Her legs felt like jelly, and the idea of standing on the kerb while she rummaged in her bag for change was not on. Even so, she still felt decidedly wobbly as the taxi drove away, and she approached the iron railings of the house with a total lack of conviction.
What was she doing here? she asked herself. What could she possibly hope to achieve? If Linda couldn’t help; if his own brother couldn’t help, what chance did she have? She could hardly force her way inside by telling some iron-faced manservant that she was expecting his baby. Who would believe her? It was ludicrous.
And then, with that uncanny sense of being observed, she lifted her head. Her eyes travelled up over the curtained ground-floor windows to the tall windows of the first floor. There were three of them, and her gaze sped from one to another in swift succession, but although she was almost certain someone had been watching her the panes were blank and unoccupied.
She shivered, in spite of the humid warmth of the late summer morning. The rain had eased here, and a watery sun was making the pavements steam, but still she felt a cold finger of apprehension down her spine. What if it had been Alex? she thought, her fingers hesitating over the latch of the gate. What if he had seen her, and was already ordering his manservant not to let her in? What would she do? What could she do? Oh, she ought never to have come!
She glanced behind her, half wishing she had asked
the taxi driver to wait for her. It seemed so presumptuous now, to come here uninvited and unannounced. She should have got his number, somehow, and phoned first. That way, she could have saved herself a wasted journey.
‘Are you coming in, or aren’t you?’
The words, spoken in a harsh unwelcoming tone, almost paralysed her, but she managed to swing round, grasping the railings for support. Alex was standing in the open doorway of the house, his dark face grim and unshaven, but wonderfully familiar. Her jaw sagged in trembling disbelief.
‘Well?’ he demanded, and there was a faintly truculent note to his voice now. ‘Either you are or you aren’t. What’s the matter? Did I scare you? You should have warned me you were coming. I’d have made myself respectable.’
Beth shook her head. ‘You—you saw me,’ she said, recalling that uneasy feeling, and Alex’s mouth twisted.
‘Of course I saw you,’ he snapped. ‘That’s why I’m here. Do you want to come in and tell me what you’re doing here?’
Beth nodded. ‘All right.
‘Good.’
His tone had shortened even more, and she knew she had to stop staring at him as if he were a ghost. But the shock of seeing him wasn’t just a mental aberration, it was a physical one, too. Linda hadn’t been exaggerating. Alex did look ill.
‘Well?’ he prompted, and she hurriedly lifted the latch and opened the gate.
‘Thank you,’ she said, walking up the shallow steps.
Alex stood aside for her to enter the narrow hallway of the house, and as she passed him she smelled the aroma of alcohol on his breath. Smelled him, too, a sweet-sour odour of sweat and unwashed clothes. He hadn’t changed his trousers and sweater in several days, she thought uneasily. His hair was unkempt, too. Dear God, what had he been doing to himself?
He closed the door and gestured towards the stairs, which went up at one side of the hall. Ahead of her, she could see a long passage with doors leading off it, and a Victorian-styled conservatory at the end.
As she went upstairs, she couldn’t help comparing the experience with that other occasion at the Villa Vouliari. She had the feeling that if she were to fall on Alex now he would crumple like a pack of cards. He had lost that edge of lean muscularity. Now he looked merely thin.
And old, she added, glancing anxiously behind her. She knew he was just a couple of years over forty, but at present he looked ten years older. Even his hair was streaked with grey, and his eyes were narrowed and sombre.
‘In here,’ he said, when they reached the first landing, and he pushed open the door into a book-lined study. ‘It’s where I conduct all my business interviews,’ he added tensely. ‘I assume you are here on business. I can’t think of any other reason.’
Beth took a deep breath, as he closed the door and leaned back against it. ‘Can’t you, Alex?’ she asked, realising she was not going to get any help from him. She glanced at the broad desk that occupied the space beneath the windows, and which was bare but for a bottle of whisky and a glass. ‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be much business being conducted here, at the moment.’ She picked up the glass between two fingers, and viewed it with some distaste. ‘Was this what you were doing, when you looked out of the window and saw me?’
‘What if it was?’ Alex regarded her without liking. ‘Be careful, Beth, I’ve let you in here, but I may not be so willing to let you out again.’
‘Is that a threat?’ Beth took a quivering breath. ‘Or a promise?’ She felt behind her, and found a place to rest her unsteady hips on the corner of his desk. ‘For heaven’s sake, Alex, what have you been doing to yourself?’
Alex pushed his shoulders away from the door, and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘What’s it to you?’
Beth sighed. ‘It’s not worth it, Alex. Believe me! Nothing you do can change what’s happened. Tony’s dead! You can’t bring him back. And don’t you think you owe it to him to do the best you can?’
Alex scowled. ‘Who sent you, Beth? Who was it got the idea that you might succeed where others have failed? Was it George? Was it Nico?’ He made a scornful sound. ‘No—damn, it was Linda, wasn’t it? So she did know where you were! The little bitch! She swore to me she didn’t know where you’d gone.
Beth blinked. ‘No one sent me,’ she declared, even as her brain tried to deal with the import of what he had just told her. Had he tried to contact her, after all?
‘I don’t believe you.’ Alex was scathing.
‘It’s the truth.’ And it was. Linda hadn’t the faintest notion she was here. And, if what Alex was implying was true, she probably wouldn’t approve either. ‘I wanted to see you.’
‘Why?’
‘Why?’ Beth was taken aback.
‘Yeah, why?’ he repeated, crossing his arms across his chest. ‘I don’t believe we have anything to say to one another, do we? You said it all—before we left for Greece.’
‘Oh.’ Beth lowered her shoulder-bag to the floor, and gripped the desk at either side of her hips. ‘You mean about—about you not seeing me again, after we got back?’
‘No.’ Alex was brusque. ‘I mean how you refused to go, unless I made that proviso.’ His lips tightened. ‘That was the bargain, wasn’t it? That was why you persuaded Linda to go.’
Beth swallowed. ‘Maybe.’
‘What do you mean, maybe?’ His eyes flashed angrily. ‘Damn you, you know that’s what happened. You kept to your side of the bargain, and you made bloody sure I kept to mine. Where have you been, by the way? Or is that still a well-guarded secret?’
Beth blinked. ‘Why do you want to know?’
Alex’s face darkened. ‘Curiosity, that’s all. Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got no intention of pestering you. I’m not totally stupid. I got the message.
‘What message?’ Beth was getting more and more confused. ‘I didn’t send you a message. And I’ve been staying in Norfolk, if you want to know. I’ve rented a cottage there. On the coast, not far from Norwich!’
‘Norwich!’ He echoed the word impatiently. ‘And I thought you were out of the country. No wonder Linda denied knowing where you were. Norwich isn’t exactly out of reach, is it?’
‘Linda didn’t know where I was,’ protested Beth urgently. ‘Honestly. She didn’t. Oh—she eventually got my phone number from Mrs Lamb, my daily woman. But that was just a couple of days ago. Because she was worried about you, and needed someone to talk to.’
Alex didn’t look convinced. ‘To talk to,’ he echoed, and Beth nodded.
‘Yes.’ She stared at him. ‘Alex—are you saying you came up to Yorkshire?’
Alex stared back. ‘As if you didn’t know.’
‘I didn’t.’ She moistened her lips with a nervous tongue, and gripped the desk a little tighter. ‘Why did you come up to Yorkshire?’ She couldn’t believe it was to see her! ‘Was there—was there a problem over—over the inquest?’
Alex gave her a pitying look. ‘OK, Beth,’ he said, ‘you’re obviously enjoying this little tête-à-tête, but I’m not.’ He came unsteadily towards her, but although she was sure he meant to threaten her he just reached past her for the whisky bottle. ‘So,’ he went on, examining the contents of the bottle with a jaundiced eye, ‘why don’t you say your piece and get out of here? I don’t need your help. I don’t want your sympathy. I’ll go to hell my own way, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘It’s not.’ Beth stayed where she was. ‘Alex, please! Why did you come to Sullem Cross?’ She took a deep breath, and dived into the unknown. ‘Was—was it to see me?’
Alex gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘What do you want—blood?’
Beth lifted her shoulders. ‘As I said—Tony—’
‘Tony’s dead and buried.’ Alex’s mouth compressed. ‘You said it, there’s nothing I can do now. I loved him, and I think he knew it. As Linda says, we’ll never know the truth.’
‘Then—’
‘Yeah, right, you want your pound of flesh.’ His mouth took on a self-deris
ive slant, and he lunged for the glass. ‘OK, I came to Sullem Cross to see you. But—what do you know? The lady’s vanished again.’
Beth slid off the desk. ‘I hadn’t vanished.’
‘It certainly looked that way to me.’ Alex tipped the bottle against the glass, and swore when he found it was almost empty. His eyes moved restlessly around the room, as if looking for its replacement. ‘I didn’t get the message the first time around, but I sure as hell got it the second!’
Beth licked her lips. ‘You’re wrong.’
His eyes swivelled back to hers. ‘No, I’m not wrong,’ he said savagely. ‘I asked everyone I knew at the university, and nobody could tell me where you were. You’d made a pretty good job of covering your tracks, Beth. Even your friends didn’t know where you’d gone.’
‘I know.’ Beth sighed, but when he would have brushed past her she put out her hand and caught his sleeve. ‘Alex, why did you want to see me?’
He pulled away from her, and lurched across the room to a carved mahogany cabinet. Jerking open the door, he revealed a generous display of bottles, and as she watched with horrified eyes he selected another quart of Scotch.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake, Alex!’ Abandoning her stance beside the desk, Beth went after him, and because she caught him unawares she was able to wrench the bottle out of his hand. ‘Tell me,’ she said, standing in front of him, staring at him with frustrated eyes. ‘Tell me why you wanted to see me! I thought you didn’t want to see me again! At least, that was what you implied, when we arrived at the villa.’
Alex glared at her. ‘Give me that bottle!’
‘No.’
‘I said, give me that bottle!’
He went to take it from her, and would have lost his balance if she hadn’t taken most of his weight. As it was, her face ended up pressed against the whisky-stained cotton of his sweater, and, although the scent wasn’t pleasant, the nearness of his hard body was achingly sweet.
‘Don’t do this to me, Beth,’ he muttered, trying to extricate himself from her arms. But all she did was drop the bottle of whisky on to the carpet, and clutch the waistband of his trousers with both hands.
