‘That’s quite a speech but …’ Moody began, when the tiny nurse came back into the room.
‘This is a hospital, not a bar room. I need to ask both of you to leave. I haven’t finished treating my patient yet.’
‘Leave?’ Moody’s eyebrows rose. ‘I’m not leaving. This is my son.’
‘Yes, and you’re distressing him. Now, will you please get out? And you too,’ she said to Helen.
Moody puffed himself up. ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘Haven’t a clue.’ The nurse pointed to the door. ‘And I don’t care if you’re the Sultan of Brunei. Out!’
Moody sent the nurse a look that seemed to indicate she might find herself in the Thames with something heavy around her legs, but complied too.
As soon as the door was closed, Helen confronted him again.
‘You knew what my aunt was up to, and that she’d been doing it for years.’
‘What of it?’ He shrugged, his jaw set in a mulish pose, and it might have been rather comical to see the Big Bad Gangsta Man acting like a school boy, if it hadn’t been for her concern over Charlie.
‘I meant what I said in there. My aunt had my mother killed, and you let an innocent woman go to prison for it. So why did you take the knife?’
Being thrown out of the treatment room had had a calming effect on her. For years she’d wanted revenge on Fay, had thought of a hundred unpleasant ways for her die, but even before she knew Fay was innocent, the anger had begun to subside. In place different feelings had grown: disappointment that her mother had turned out to be less than perfect, and sadness that she’d died for nothing more than money and her own greed.
Having recovered his usual composure, Moody replied, ‘Well, I like to be in control, as you said. When I found your mother dead in the car, I had a very strong inkling your aunt Letitia was behind it. A man in my position recognises the need for leverage. And it looked good in my collection. Simple as that.’
Simple as that. Twenty years of ruined lives, and that’s all it boiled down to for this man. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘Miss Stephens, I fail to see the purpose of this conversation.’
‘And stop calling me Miss Stephens. My name’s Helen. Stephanov, like my uncle.’
‘Hardly something to be proud of.’
‘Well, I am. And I’m proud to be nothing like Letitia.’
‘Difficult lady, your aunt, but we don’t have to worry about her now.’
You might not have to, she thought. But I’ll live with her death on my conscience for the rest of my life.
‘I warned her, you know. Your mother. Another difficult lady. Told her that her meddling would get her in trouble, but she wouldn’t listen.’
‘You warned her, huh?’ Helen gave a bitter laugh. ‘Played her, more like, so you could get control of the company after you’d picked over the spoils. Well, you didn’t, and you won’t in the future either. I own the majority of the shares. I am in control.’
Suck on that.
Something flickered in his eyes – a grudging respect, perhaps – but it was quickly masked. ‘That’s quite the bright future you’ve got mapped out for yourself there, Miss Stephens. I sincerely hope it doesn’t involve my son.’
‘Maybe it does.’
‘I’m not happy with that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you are.’
‘I told you once to stay away from him, quite rudely I recall.’
‘Yes, I remember. Twenty-six bones in the foot, blah blah blah. Don’t you think it’s about time you let him live his own life? Make his own decisions about who he wants to be with and what he wants to do? If Jason decides he doesn’t want to be with me, fair enough, I’ll give him up, but I won’t do it on your say-so.’
Calmly, Moody assessed her. Then he leaned forward, fast as a snake, and hissed into her ear.
‘And what about your epilepsy? That taint is in your blood. You want my grandchildren to be freaks like you?’
Helen flinched. ‘I don’t think it’s hereditary. Even if it is, having epilepsy is not the end of the world. I should know.’
Changing tactics, Moody straightened up and regarded her from beneath hooded eyelids. ‘Your mother died horribly. So did your aunt, and your friend probably will too. It’s clear people get hurt around you. If it hadn’t been for you, your clever friend wouldn’t be fighting for her life right now. All that promise wouldn’t be joining the dodos.’
He was laying it on thick, theatrically so, yet every single word, sharp as a needle, found its way under her skin, crept up under her hairline, sent her scalp tingling. Her face stung from the truth.
Her mother had died because she’d been too young to understand what was going on and to call for help, Charlie might too, because Helen couldn’t forget the past and just get on with her life. She knew the horror would stay with her, the shocking ease with which a person could be written out of the script. All it took was a cheap screwdriver and some unprotected flesh. And Letitia had died for the same reasons.
Despite all the disastrous mistakes she’d made since her return, she’d learned one thing: family was important. Could she really spend the rest of her life with a man whose father she wasn’t sure she could ever forgive for his small part in her mother’s death? And would Jason come to resent her for his own divided loyalties?
She looked away, didn’t want to see the triumph in Moody’s eyes, because he knew as she did, that she couldn’t argue with what he’d just said. People did get hurt around her. Her shoulders slumped as a sigh escaped her.
Moody looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded sombrely and left. There was nothing more to say, and they both knew it.
The nurse finished tying Jason’s arm up in a foam-padded sling, then handed him a glass of water and a couple of strong painkillers.
‘Are you sure I can’t give you a sedative? Your body’s been through quite a trauma.’
‘I prefer to go without. Want to stay focused.’ Especially now my father is sticking his oar in, he thought. She followed his eyes to the door and nodded sympathetically.
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
Jason thanked her and stepped out into the general A&E department. A number of beds had been sectioned off by curtains, but he could hear voices and the occasional groan or muffled cry coming from behind them.
There was no sign of Helen. Disappointment tore through him, followed by a mixture of gratitude and irritation as his father came towards him with a polystyrene cup in his hand.
‘It’s probably muck but you look like you need a cup of tea. If I’d got here earlier, I’d have made sure you were taken to a private clinic, not left you with’—he flung out his arm in a general direction—‘this rabble.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Jason took the cup. ‘Where’s Helen?’
‘She went home.’
‘Just like that? I don’t believe you. Look, if you as much as—’
‘Don’t be dramatic. We had a chat, she went home.’
‘What did you say to her?’
Derek shrugged. ‘The truth. That you got shot because of her. That it was her fault your friend might die.’
Threatening to crush the delicate cup, Jason’s hand tightened around it to stop himself from flinging the contents in his father’s face. Derek was his dad after all. Instead he put it down on an empty surgical trolley.
‘I need a lift,’ he said.
‘Jason, listen to me—’
‘Now! Or I’ll never speak to you again!’
Derek’s mouth tightened and he tried to stare Jason down, but Jason met his gaze full on and didn’t give so much as an inch. Finally, his dad shook his head and turned to head for the exit. As they climbed into the back of the waiting car, his dad grumbled, ‘I didn’t spend a fortune on your education for you to throw yourself away on a girl with an incurable illness.’
‘Good point. Why did you spend all that money on my education? It’s not like I’ve ever mad
e use of GCSE Latin, is it?’
‘So you can have the things I didn’t have. Do something with your life. Think for yourself. Make decisions.’
Jason put his hand on his father’s shoulder. ‘That’s what I’m doing, Dad. Thinking for myself.’
‘She’s bewitched you.’
‘No. She’s made me realise what’s truly important.’
‘Which is?’
‘We understand each other. We both grew up feeling out of place. We both want to help people who’re not as lucky as we are. And,’ Jason added, ‘I love her.’
‘Love!’ Derek scoffed. ‘Love can be bought. With your education, your looks, and the money you’re set to inherit, you can have anyone. You just need to watch out for the gold-diggers.’
‘Like Cathy, you mean?’ Jason winced inwardly. Speaking her name still smarted a bit.
‘Exactly.’
‘Cathy wasn’t a gold-digger, but you’re right, the relationship wouldn’t have gone the distance. My feelings for her weren’t deep enough.’
‘But for this girl they are?’
His father already knew the answer to that, and Jason said nothing. Derek could rant and rave, or needle or threaten, or whatever he did for a living, but Jason needed to get to Helen and let her know how important she was to him. With the recent loss she’d suffered and all her uncertainties, his father might well have got to her. He needed to stop her before she did something stupid.
But why was it taking so long? It was still in the early hours, and there wasn’t much traffic. It seemed as if his father’s chauffeur was deliberately driving slowly.
Finally they pulled up outside the house. Jason side-stepped Jones holding the car door open for him – purposefully in his way? – and almost leapt through the dilapidated front door.
Lee appeared from the kitchen, cradling one of Fay’s cats. The cat took one look at Derek Moody and the chauffeur behind Jason, hissed and ran back into the kitchen. Jason took the stairs two steps at a time, only vaguely aware of his father following.
The door to Helen’s room was wide open, the lights on, and he knew before stepping through the doorway that it would be empty. All that was left of the cosiness she’d succeeded in creating with very few belongings was a slight mark on the wall where a poster had hung and a faint trace of her perfume.
It wasn’t the absence of her things which punched a hole through his chest, it was knowing that she saw isolating herself from others as a way of solving things. As if it ever did.
Plus the fact that if she chose to stay hidden, no way would he ever find her.
He rounded on his father who had the grace to look shame-faced. ‘You owe me. Bloody big time.’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Goa
The computer screen shone with a luminous blue light in the darkened Internet café. Outside, pewter clouds had rolled over the beach with surprising speed, and it wouldn’t be long before the heavens opened.
Helen rose and went to the window. This September the tail-end of the monsoon promised to be a particularly spectacular one, and the beach, which she could see in the distance with the grey sea lapping lazily against the sand, was deserted apart from a few intrepid bathers. They were a new breed of tourists, people who came to Goa during the rainy season specifically to witness the tropical storms and the torrential rainfall.
Watching the bobbing bathers, she shook her head and hoped the season wouldn’t claim too many lives. So much had been lost already.
A couple of weeks ago she’d made her own offering to the sea and cast her mother’s Fabergé paper knife into the deep, the one Jason had given her and which had once belonged to Fay. Feeling the weight in her hand, she knew it was worth more than some people could ever earn in a lifetime, then, letting it go, she’d hurled it as far out as she could. Maybe one day treasure hunters would find it, clean it and cherish it, not knowing how much pain was associated with it.
The one Charlie had ‘borrowed’ from Arseni’s display cabinet, she’d given back to him when she last saw him, but the one she’d found at Ruth’s office she’d kept. Her mother had used it for opening letters, and she would do the same. Ruth had seemed more than happy to be rid of it anyway.
She returned to the computer and clicked on an e-mail from Ruth. Her aunt reported that the police were still investigating, and that the business would take a knock, but would survive. She then confirmed that she’d sent Helen a package with three months’ supply of epilepsy medication and lectured her on eating properly and pacing herself. She smiled. Ruth’s e-mail came across as gruff, but you couldn’t mistake her affection.
Her smiled dropped a little when Ruth mentioned how she and Sweetman were in the process of winding up Aggie’s estate. There was still that other matter …
After she’d left Jason’s house, she’d spent a few days just hiding inside herself, but circumstances had forced her out, Aggie’s funeral for one. It was a quiet affair, with only Helen, Ruth and Sweetman there, plus Bill and Mrs Deakin who’d known Aggie well. The vicar tried to focus his words on a venerable old lady who’d achieved much in her life, but Letitia’s horrible death haunted everyone there, and his efforts fell flat.
To clear her mind Helen took a walk among the headstones and statues of the Victorian cemetery. Arseni found her in front of an intricately carved stone angel with one arm stretched out and a finger pointing accusingly, more avenger than saviour.
‘Poor Yelena,’ he said.
‘Like I’ve said before, poor is the one thing I’m not.’
‘I meant because you lose another person. Very sad, nyet?’
She rolled her eyes at him, and he held up his hands in defeat.
‘Okay, I get it. Drop the accent. It’s not easy, you know. It’s become a bit of a habit.’
‘A bad habit. Nothing wrong with being who you are.’
‘Well, consider it dropped.’
‘Thanks.’ She reached into her rucksack. ‘I have something for you.’
‘For me?’
She handed him the paper knife Charlie had taken. ‘My friend stole this from your display cabinet. At first I wasn’t gong to give it back, but … well, by right it’s yours.’
‘Ah, the charming Charlotte. I suspected as much.’ He examined it for a second then slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. ‘What made you change your mind? About giving it back?’
‘You’ve never been anything other than kind to me. I didn’t appreciate it to begin with. Thought you were just playing me, you know, like a lot of people have done. But I was wrong.’
He nodded. ‘What will you do now?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘Start living again, like a normal person. I’ve never done that, not really, so it’ll be like learning a new skill. Maybe use my own experiences to help others. Get over myself, I suppose.’ And Jason, she thought, and felt her insides clench. That part would take some time. ‘And you?’
He made a face. ‘Fraud Squad are taking a keen interest in some of my, uhm, connections – too keen for my liking – so I’m off to Russia for a while. Let things cool down and all that.’
Helen laughed. ‘I wish you well. I truly do.’
‘Will I ever see you again?’
She punched him lightly on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be daft, of course you will. You’re my dad, aren’t you?’
He stared at her, shocked. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘My brother couldn’t have children after his cancer treatment. So I suggested I help them out. It wasn’t altruistic, I just wanted to sleep with Mimi. She was very … desirable. I’m not proud of how you came about, but …’ He smiled. ‘I’m very proud of you. You’re a chip off the old block, if I’m allowed to use a cliché.’
‘Clichés are allowed.’
He held out his arms, Russian-style, and she stepped into his embrace. ‘We’ll stay in touch, let’s make sure of that. Nyet?’
Ruth waited for her on a bench by the cemetery gates. ‘The hearse has left. For the cre
matorium.’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘It’s what Mother wanted.’
Helen sat down beside her. ‘Letitia said you were good at lying.’
‘It was in her will, Helen.’
‘I know what was in her will. I read it, remember? Letitia also said you had your reasons for not wanting a post-mortem.’ She looked at Ruth, and the pressure she’d felt building inside since she’d entered the chapel earlier threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Why’d you kill her?’
Ruth paled.
‘Was it money, like your damn sister? Or to get control of the company?’
‘No,’ Ruth whispered and bowed her head. Her fingers, nails bitten to the quick, folded and unfolded the hem of her skirt, over and over in some obsessive-compulsive ritual.
‘Why, then?’
Ruth let out a deep sigh. ‘When Mimi died, I wanted to adopt you. Letitia told Mother you hated me, so Mother, to spare me I suppose, persuaded me not to. Said I couldn’t deal with your epilepsy. I was weak and agreed, but I resented her so much for that. When I learned the truth, that Letitia had in fact lied about your feelings for me, I resented her even more for believing my sister in the first place. And when you came back, you were so angry with all of us, and I felt so guilty for not being there for you.’
‘I thought you were angry with me.’
‘Never,’ said Ruth. ‘I was never angry with you. You were a honey. You still are.’
Warmed by this unexpected affection, Helen smiled briefly, then she frowned. ‘But why would Letitia do that? It couldn’t possibly bother her.’
‘Oh, yes, it could. You were Arseni’s child, and you had to pay for that. That was my sister in a nutshell. Just mean.’
Two step-aunts, one mean, the other a liar. The luck of the draw, Helen thought. But this is the hand I’ve been dealt.
The Elephant Girl (Choc Lit) Page 35
