by Susan Lewis
“I told you, he’s sleeping.”
“I won’t wake him. I won’t even touch him, I just want to see him. Please, Keith. I’m begging you, please, please let me see him.”
“Who knows about this? Who have you told?”
“No one, I promise you, no one.”
“Are you alone now?”
“Yes. Please, please say that I can see him. Give me the address, I’ll come straight over.”
“No.”
“Keith!” she called. “Keith, please. I am begging you. Please! I just want to see that he’s all right. Nothing else, nothing more. I just want to see him. Please, Keith, please . . .” She began to sob.
“I’m at my brother’s flat in Fulham,” he said at last. “Make sure you come on your own. You haven’t told the police, have you? It will only be the worse for you if you have.”
“No, I haven’t told the police. I’ll come alone. I promise. What’s the address?” Conrad was beside her with pen and paper.
“Are you sure there’s no one there with you?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” she answered, looking at Conrad.
“This doesn’t mean that you are taking him away with you tonight, you understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, I understand. I told you, I only want to see him. To see for myself that he’s all right.”
“Tomorrow I will get a court order that says he remains in this country, at least until the whole thing is settled. So there’s no point in trying anything fancy.”
Her heart lurched, and she fought hard not to cry again. “The address, Keith. Give me the address.”
As he spoke she wrote quickly. “I’ll be over right away. And Keith.”
“Yes?”
“You will be there, won’t you?”
“We’ll be here,” and he hung up.
She put down the receiver and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “The car,” she said, not looking at Conrad. “Can I use the car?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No. He said I must go alone.”
“I am not letting you go alone. Here, put your coat on.”
“No. Conrad, please. I promised him. I said I would go alone. Wait here for me. Please.”
“You can go in alone. I’ll wait in the car, somewhere along the street if necessary, but you’re not going alone, Ashley. Now put your coat on.”
She didn’t argue further, she would only be wasting valuable time.
It was a dear night, and the roads were practically empty. It took them no time at all to get to Fulham, though to Ashley it felt like a lifetime.
Keith’s brother’s flat was at the top of an old Victorian building, with no intercom system. Ashley pushed the bell and waited. Finally she heard Keith’s footsteps coming along the hall, and then he was opening the door. Pushing past him she flew up the stairs. Keith turned and ran after her, only managing to overtake her as she was going into the flat.
“Where is he?” she cried. “Let me see him. Let me go to him.”
“Mummy!” Alex called.
Ashley turned round and saw her son standing in the hall. “Alex!” she gasped, and ran to him. “Oh Alex! My darling. My baby. Are you all right?”
“Sure I’m all right, Mum,” he said, bewildered and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Oh darling, so am I.” So am I. She looked up at Keith. He was still standing in the doorway, watching them. “You know none of this was necessary,” she said. “You didn’t have to do this to him.”
Keith turned away and walked into the sitting room. Ashley took Alex’s hand and they followed him inside.
Outside Conrad got out of the car and began to walk up and down the street. He glanced up at the window from time to time, but the curtains were pulled and there was no sign of life.
Keith was standing with his back to the window, his arms folded. Ashley kept her arm round Alex and looked at him.
“So it’s all over, Ash,” he said, very quietly. “At last, it’s all over.”
She shook her head. “What do you mean? What’s over?”
“You, me, Alex. It’s over.”
“You mean you’re going to let me take him?”
“I mean that you lied. I mean that Conrad Frazier is down there in the street. Conrad Frazier, all the way from New York. You lied to me, Ashley. Did you really think I was such a fool? I saw you pull up outside. You think you’re going to take him with you, don’t you? You think you’re going to take him away and back to New York.”
“No,” she cried. “No. I told you, I just wanted to see him.”
“You’re a liar, Ashley.” His voice was still calm. “I might have believed you, but Conrad, here in England, only confirms what you intend to do. What you think you intend to do. It might have been all right, Ashley. It might all have worked out. But you cheated on me. You said you were alone, when all the time you were with him.” He began to shake his head. “Why did you have to lie?”
“You would never have let me see him if I’d told you the truth. Please try and understand, Keith. All I was thinking about was Alex.”
“All you were thinking about was yourself.” He looked down at Alex, and then lifted his eyes back to Ashley. “You’re not going to have him, Ashley, so whatever you’re thinking you can get it out of your head now. You’ll never take him away from me again, that I promise you. You have sealed his fate, and mine, and yours. You should never have come here with Conrad. It was your biggest mistake yet.”
Ashley felt Alex press his little body against her, and she held him closer. “Keith, stop talking like that. Can’t you see what it’s doing to Alex? Don’t you care what it’s doing to him?”
Keith turned to his son. “Alex, go into the bedroom.”
Alex’s small face was round with fear, and he clutched at Ashley.
“No,” said Ashley. “No. Can’t you see he’s frightened?”
“Alex,” Keith said again. “Go into the bedroom. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Just go into the bedroom. I want to talk to your mother alone.”
Alex looked up at Ashley. “Do I have to, Mummy?”
Ashley looked down into his face and her heart turned over. She looked back at Keith, and then again at Alex. “Do as Daddy says, darling. I’ll come in to you in a minute.”
Very reluctantly Alex let go of his mother’s hand, and walked out of the room. Ashley watched him go, and Keith watched Ashley.
When he had gone Ashley turned to face Keith. He unfolded his arms and started to walk across the room towards the fire. His voice was quiet as he spoke and she had to strain her ears to hear him. “You’re wondering just what it is that I’m going to do, to prove to you how much my son means to me.” He stopped walking, but he didn’t turn round. “I would have done it anyway, if I’d had to. But I’m glad you’re here. It’ll make more sense with you here.”
Ashley watched him, afraid to speak.
He reached up to a shelf above the fire and took down a small parcel. He unwrapped it slowly, his hands quite steady, and as the wrapping fell to the floor, he turned to face her.
Her eyes rounded with horror as she saw what he was holding. “No!” she whispered. “No, Keith.”
He looked down at the gun and turned it over in his hands.
“What, what are you going to . . . to do?”
“What I said I’d do if you tried to take him away.”
She shook her head, feeling a wave of panic rising in her, so strong it was blinding her. Her heart thumped against her ribs, pounding, irregular and unnatural. And as she tried to speak her voice felt strangled by her own throat. “No! You can’t do it. He’s only a child, he’s got his whole life in front of him. Keith, he’s your son, for God’s sake, I thought you loved him.”
Conrad was still pacing up and down outside. He rubbed his fingers against his eyes and looked at his watch. Somebody came out of a nearby house and started to walk down the street towards him. The m
an gave him a suspicious look. Conrad nodded to him, and then looked up at the window.
Still there was nothing to see so he turned to walk on. It was cold and the sky was alight with stars and a near full moon. He pulled his coat tighter round him as the wind started to pick up. It was then that he heard the scream. He froze, and as he started to turn his head back to the window, he heard the gunshot.
“Ashley,” he breathed, and started to run. There was a second shot. “Ashley!” he yelled as he ran in through the door.
Several seconds later another shot was fired, and then there was silence.
Bob ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Look, Ellamarie, I haven’t got long, please, come to the point.”
Ellamarie didn’t answer.
He turned away and went to stand beside his desk. Any minute now the phone would ring and he could get away. He closed his eyes and willed Linda not to wait any longer. Finally he said: “Look, I’ve said I’m sorry about the interview, I didn’t mean for you to find out like that, but it’s done now, and you would have found out in the end anyway.”
“Does that mean you weren’t going to tell me yourself?” Ellamarie looked up at him, her face red and swollen, still wet with tears.
He looked away.
“Does that mean you weren’t going to tell me yourself?” she repeated.
A siren blasted into the night and Bob pulled back the curtain to look outside.
Ellamarie yelled: “Does that mean you . . .”
“Yes!” He swung round to face her. “If that’s what you want me to say, then yes. That is what it means.”
Ellamarie eyed him, pain darkening her eyes. “How could you? How could you?”
“What else could I do?” he shouted. “For Christ’s sake, I didn’t know it was going to happen like that. Anyway, I told you, it’s over. For me and you, it’s over, Ellamarie. Stop hurting yourself like this, stop making me say it.”
“To make it easier for you? Is that what you want?”
“Yes. And for you too.”
“Does your wife know I’m pregnant, Bob? Did you tell her, or shall we wait for that to hit the news too?”
“You wouldn’t!” he gasped.
“Wouldn’t what? Tell the world that you made me pregnant at the same time as you made your wife pregnant, then ran out on me? Wouldn’t I do it, Bob? Wouldn’t I?”
“You couldn’t! And for all I know, that child you’re carrying isn’t even . . .”
“You bastard!” she screamed. “Say it! Go on, say it! Isn’t even yours, that’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? No, it’s the bastard of a rapist, it couldn’t possibly be the child of the great Bob McElfrey. And that’s just what you’d do, isn’t it, Bob? You’d tell the whole world that I was raped, and that I got pregnant straight after. That’s what you’d do, isn’t it?”
His eyes were cold. “If you force me to.”
She threw herself at him, screaming and beating her fists against his chest. He caught her by the arms and pushed her back onto the settee. “Stop this, Ellamarie. You’re making a fool of yourself.”
“Making a fool of myself?” she screamed. “Well, that’s nothing to what you’ve made of me, Bob McElfrey. Do you know where I went before I came here? Do you? I went to the theatre, and they were throwing the scripts for Twelfth Night into the garbage, just like you’re trying to do with me.”
“Shut up, Ellamarie. Do you have to dramatise everything? I thought you got me here because you wanted to talk . . .”
“I got you here for one thing, and one thing only.”
Looking at her now, Bob wondered how he could do this to someone he loved.
“I’m going to kill you, you bastard. I’m going to kill you for what you’ve done to me.”
As he saw her snatch the gun from her bag he leapt across the room towards her. But he was too late. The sound reverberated around the room and he clutched his hands to his chest as his knees started to buckle beneath him. He rolled over, groaning in agony. “Ellamarie!” he gasped. “Ellamarie.”
Ellamarie gazed down at him in horror. The gun slipped through her fingers and landed with a thud on the floor. She began moving her head from side to side. “Oh Bob,” she whispered. “Oh my God, Bob! Bob!”
Sobbing, she threw herself down beside him. She could hear the air bubbling in his lungs. She was so afraid, she could only cling to him. After a minute she felt his hand, weak and trembling, running over her hair. She lifted her head to look into his face. He was watching her. “I loved you. Didn’t you know that?” he murmured.
“No,” she moaned. “No, you can’t tell me that now.” He gasped as she pulled him to her again. “Why? Oh Bob, why?”
“I didn’t know any other way.” He closed his eyes and his head fell back against the floor.
“Bob!” she screamed. “Bob! Don’t die. You can’t die now. We can work this out. If you still love me, then we can work it out. Bob!”
His eyelids flickered, and it was with great effort that he managed to take a breath. His lips were moving, and she lowered her ear to listen, but the sound of the telephone shrilling into the room drowned his words.
“. . . and earlier today a police spokesman confirmed that a full scale-hunt for the killer is now underway. So far there has been no evidence to suggest a motive for the killing, and police are asking anyone who was in the vicinity who might have seen or heard anything suspicious to come forward . . .” The sound of the newsreader’s voice was coming through an open door in the block.
She squeezed her eyes shut tightly in an effort not to listen. She didn’t want to think about the murder. Not now.
Using the bannister as a steadying guide she continued up the stairs, trying to ignore the fear that had crept its way into her heart.
Finally she reached the door at the top. She hesitated a moment not knowing what to do. She looked around the empty hallway – it offered no encouragement. The telephone began to ring inside the flat, making her jump. She listened as it continued to ring, but no one answered. The door downstairs slammed and as abruptly the ringing stopped.
Silence.
Slowly, she lifted her hand and knocked. The dull sound echoed along the hallway.
She looked around again. She was quite alone. Fumbling in her bag, she pulled out a key. As she slid it into the lock, her heart began to pound. All she wanted to do was run away.
The door clicked open and she stepped through. The flat was in darkness despite the bright sunlight outside. All the curtains were pulled.
She called out, loudly, but there was no reply.
Edging her way down the hall she came to a halt outside the bedroom door. She pushed her hand against it, then realizing that her deliberate movements were making her more nervous, she pushed it sharply and stepped inside. The room was empty.
She swallowed hard, and looked around. The curtains were closed in here too.
She turned back into the hall. A few more steps and she was in the kitchen. She called out again, but still there was no reply.
The window was open and a cat suddenly leapt from the sill and landed on the floor in front of her.
Catching her breath and trying to ignore, the violent beating of her heart, she stooped to stroke it.
Suddenly the phone began to ring again, and putting the cat onto a chair, she walked to the sitting room to answer it. Unafraid now, the telephone giving her the sense of another presence in the flat, she pushed open the door.
And then she screamed – and screamed and screamed. And the phone rang – and rang and rang.
She fell against the wall, sobbing and retching, covering her face with her hands, unable to look. The phone continued to ring. She could barely manage to lift it, her hands were shaking so violently.
“Hello? Hello?” said an urgent voice at the other end. “Ellamarie, are you there?”
“Ashley! Oh God, Ashley!”
“Jenneen? Is that you?”
“Yes,
it’s me,” Jenneen sobbed. “Ashley! Oh my God, Ashley!”
“Jenneen, what is it? What’s happened? I heard the news, I’ve been trying to get in touch. What’s happened?”
“It’s Ellamarie.”
Ashley’s voice was shrill. “What’s happened, Jenneen? Tell me, what’s happened?”
“Oh God,” Jenneen sobbed. “She’s dead. Ashley, she’s dead.”
Six Months Later
THIRTY-NINE
Jan looked up as Conrad strolled into the office. He nodded towards Ashley’s door. “She in there?”
“On the phone,” Jan answered, glancing over at the switch lights on the desk.
Conrad pushed open the door. Ashley looked up and smiled as she saw that it was him. She beckoned for him to come right in.
“Sure,” she was saying into the phone, “yes, yes, we’ll be there. Around seven. OK, will do. Yes, yes. See you then,” and she hung up. “Candice,” she explained, “telling me that London is the most exciting place in the whole wide world, and she might never come back.”
Conrad gave a wry smile and nodded. “Yes, I can see Candice in London. If I know her she’ll have taken the whole town by storm.” He walked across the room and helped himself to a Scotch. “Did she see Alex?”
“Yesterday. Said he was wonderful and she’s driving down again to pick him up from school tomorrow. I said we’d be at the flat around seven.”
Seeing her face cloud over Conrad went to put an arm round her. “Still miss him?”
Ashley sighed. “Like crazy. It seems that no sooner do his holidays begin than they’re over and he’s flying back to London again. I can hardly believe that it was only six weeks since Christmas. It feels more like six months.”
Conrad hugged her to him. “Youfll be seeing him tomorrow,” he said, gently.
Ashley turned and smiled up into his face. “And I can’t wait.” Then teasing his collar with her fingers she said: “But how about now? Don’t I get a kiss?”
Putting his glass on the desk Conrad folded her into his arms. Several minutes later he pushed her away gently. “Don’t want a repeat of what happened last night,” he grinned, referring to their urgency of the night before, when, unable to wait until they got home, they had locked the door of his office and made love.
