‘You do.’
‘That’s because I don’t know any better!’ She carried the teapot to the table, setting it down with such force that the hot tea spurted from the spout. Returning to the cooker, she collected the frying pan and took it to the table. Holding it over the plates, she dished up the bacon, several rashers for him, two for her. ‘There’s bread if you want it.’ She pointed to the pile of crusty fresh slices. ‘But there’s no butter. I’ve run out of money.’ She returned the frying pan to the cooker.
He glanced up, surprised. ‘I thought you sold your drawing.’
‘That was last week. Market folk won’t pay big prices.’ Rosie loved to pencil sketch. Nothing too grand, just the quiet things of nature all around her.
‘You’ll have to do more then, won’t you?’
‘Don’t you tell me what to do.’ Lately he was getting too big for his boots. ‘Besides, the stall-holders are on to me now. They don’t take kindly to outsiders getting space for nothing.’
‘What, three paving stones wide, against the rubbish bins? It’s hardly a prime site, is it?’
‘Prime site or not, they don’t like it.’ She seated herself at the tiny table and poured herself a mug of tea. ‘If I push my luck they’ll have me thrown off altogether, then where would I be?’ Slapping a rasher of bacon between two slices of bread, she sank her teeth into it.
‘You’ll think of something, you always do.’
And there the subject ended because, as always at eight thirty in the morning, Rosie switched on the radio for the news.
‘Must you?’ Luke had no interest in the outside world.
‘Can’t lose touch, Luke.’ Much as she loved the life of a wanderer, Rosie didn’t care for total isolation.
Finishing the last of his bacon, Luke got to his feet. ‘I wish now I’d never found the damned radio. And don’t keep it on too long. It drains the van’s battery.’
Rosie licked bacon fat from her fingers. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ she asked sternly.
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten.’ Reluctantly digging into his pocket he threw a handful of coins on to the table. ‘That’s all I have, but I’ll have more by tonight.’
‘Oh?’ She didn’t trust him any more. ‘I hope you’re not doing anything that could bring trouble.’ Trouble seemed to follow them wherever they went and, just like in her dreams, Luke was always at the root of it.
‘You worry too much.’
‘Luke?’ Her voice was soft, making him pause.
‘What now?’
‘Mike Peterson… your father. Do you ever think of him?’
He scowled at her. ‘Why should I? He means nothing to me.’ Yet he did think of him. Day and night he thought of how as a child he had yearned for a father but he was never there. Somehow it had helped to think it wasn’t his father’s fault, that he had died before his time. Now he knew different and it ate into him like a canker.
‘If anything happened to me, he would be your only family.’
‘Never!’ His features hardened with contempt.
‘Do you hate him so much?’
He smiled that cruel, stony smile that struck at her heart. ‘You will never know how much.’ Thrusting back the curtain, he returned to the front end of the camper. ‘If I’m late home tonight, don’t come looking for me!’
Rosie’s attention was taken by an interesting item of news. ‘Luke! Listen to this!’ Springing off her stool, she turned up the volume.
‘… murdered man was named as Dr Roger Edward Carlton, a respected and accomplished specialist in the treatment of psychological and neurological disorders…’
Luke’s face appeared round the curtain.
‘… Colleagues at the Landsmead Institute are said to be shocked at the brutal murder…’
Rosie stared at her son. ‘Landsmead Institute.’ She had seen that sign so many times on her lonely vigil. ‘That’s where Mike is.’
Chuckling, Luke turned away. ‘Perhaps he was the one who murdered him.’ He laughed.
‘Luke! Come back here!’ She needed to talk.
‘It’s no wonder I’m a misfit,’ Luke called over his shoulder, ‘when I’ve got his bad blood running through me!’
To her horror, Rosie heard the newsreader go on to say that police were investigating the murder of Dr Carlton. There was mention of another murder in the area three years ago… Eddie Johnson’s killer was still at large.
Rosie ran out of the camper and soon caught up with Luke. Grabbing him by the arm, she swung him round. ‘I’m frightened. They might get round to thinking it’s the same person who killed Eddie.’
‘Why would they?’ His remark gave nothing away but his nervous expression told Rosie he was troubled by the news. ‘Besides, we’re a good eighty miles from there.’
‘I need to ask you this, Luke…’ she said hesitantly.
‘No more questions!’
‘The truth, Luke. Did you go after that doctor?’
He laughed out loud. ‘What in God’s name makes you think that?’
‘I don’t know, but you frighten me, Luke. You’ve changed.’
He shook her off. ‘I wonder why!’ When he strode off, she made no attempt to stop him.
‘Take care, Luke,’ she called after him. ‘I might follow you and find out what you’re up to.’
Deeply troubled, he didn’t answer.
9
Mike stepped back to admire his handiwork. ‘There!’ Reaching out, he pulled Susie to his side. ‘What do you think of that?’
Susie looked wide-eyed at the Christmas tree; almost filling the hallway, it was six feet tall, bedecked with ribbons and strung with fairy lights. Every branch was hung deep with chocolate novelties and pretty decorations. ‘Oh, Daddy! It’s the biggest Christmas tree I’ve ever seen!’
Laughing and dancing, Susie went to fetch Jack who was sulking in the kitchen. ‘Come and see!’ she urged, and he did, not willingly but because Susie had asked him. All the time their father was away, Jack had taken it on himself to watch out for her, and now he loved her with a fierce, protective passion.
Encouraged, Mike waited for him to get close before asking, ‘Would you like to switch the lights on, son?’
‘I don’t care.’ The friction between these two had not lessened.
‘Yes! Go on, Jack, light the tree!’ urged Susie.
Mike held out the hand-control. ‘It’s all yours.’ He felt as though he was talking to a stranger. However hard he tried, he could not seem to bridge the deep rift between them.
Hesitating at first, Jack took the control.
‘Go on, Jack,’ Susie cried. ‘I want to see.’
For Susie’s sake, he threw the switch, and the lights came on, bright and colourful like a rainbow.
‘Ohh!’ Clapping her hands to her face, Susie gazed up at the lights. ‘It’s like fairyland,’ she said, and even Jack had to smile.
While Susie and Jack gazed at the tree, Mike watched his son. Though he put on a tough, uncaring front and tried to appear older than his eight years, Mike knew he was desperately insecure. If only he would talk about that night, things would be all right, he thought, but so far Jack had deliberately avoided the subject. If Mike walked into a room, Jack walked out. On the rare occasions when Kerry managed to get everyone round the table at the same time for the evening meal, Mike made every effort to draw Jack into family conversation, but his efforts were in vain. As well as remaining silent, Jack avoided all eye contact with him. Mike had decided that it would have to be Jack who made the first move, and for both their sakes, he prayed it would be soon.
Julie’s impatient voice broke the moment. ‘Come on, you two. It’s time we were off.’
‘Look, Grandma!’ Susie’s excitement tempered Julie’s impatience. ‘Daddy’s made the tree shine.’
‘It looks lovely,’ Julie said grudgingly. ‘But we have to be going now or we’ll miss the bus into Doncaster.’
Jack protested as usual. ‘I
don’t want to go to Doncaster.’
As always, Susie used her girlish wiles. ‘Please, Jack. We’re going to buy Christmas presents. If you don’t go, I’m not going either, and I really want to go.’
It did the trick.
Kerry fussed over them, buttoning up their coats, and making certain they had on woolly hats and gloves. ‘The forecast is snow before the day’s over,’ she told them. ‘You’re to stay close to Grandma. It’s Saturday and with Christmas only a week away, it’s bound to be very crowded. Hold Jack’s hand the whole time, Susie, and do exactly what Grandma says.’ She gave them each a kiss, though Jack was not very responsive. ‘I shall expect you both to be good as gold.’
Jack began to grow excited at the prospect of going on a bus all the way into Doncaster. ‘I want an Action Man,’ he declared.
‘We’re getting presents for Mummy and Daddy, and that’s all,’ said Julie, which promptly wiped the grin off his face.
With his arm round Kerry, Mike watched them leave. ‘I wish Jack would confide in me,’ he said. ‘I feel I’ve let him down somehow.’
‘He resented you being away all that time,’ she answered. ‘He was too young to understand. And don’t forget, in a different way he, too, was scarred by the ordeal you both suffered. He’ll get over it, just as you have, but it takes time.’
Mike gave her his lazy smile. ‘You think I’m over it, do you?’ If only she knew, he thought.
Kerry answered quietly, ‘You must be, or they would have kept you in the hospital.’
‘That’s right,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘They would, but they didn’t, so everything must be OK.’ Three precious years of his life had been wasted, he thought bitterly, and all because no one believed him. If Jack had told them what had happened, the things he had seen that night, they would have had to believe him. But Jack had let the doctors think he had lost his mind. In the end he’d had no choice but to outwit them.
‘Except for Jack.’
‘What did you say?’ With an effort Mike dragged himself back from his private nightmare. He stared at Kerry.
‘You just said everything was OK, and I simply said except for Jack, the way he won’t let you get near.’
‘Oh, Kerry, if only he would talk to me about it.’ Sadness clouded his face. ‘Sometimes I think he’s afraid of me.’
Kerry shook her head. ‘Not afraid,’ she assured him. ‘Jack is wary, that’s all.’
‘What about you?’ His dark eyes enveloped her. ‘Are you wary too?’
‘Don’t be silly.’ She didn’t like it when he looked at her in that probing, intimate way. The eyes were windows to the soul, isn’t that what someone once said? Mike’s eyes were beautiful, but they were also dark and fathomless, a place of untold secrets.
‘I do love you,’ he murmured, brushing her face with his lips. ‘I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that, don’t you?’ His hand lovingly cupped her breast.
Gently, she pushed him away. ‘I’m not ready yet,’ she said apologetically. ‘I need a little more time.’
‘Like Jack,’ he sighed. ‘I can wait… if I have to.’
‘We’d better go.’
‘You don’t have to come. I can go myself. That is, if you trust me with your car.’ She had wounded him yet again, and it had struck deep.
‘You can take the car any time you like,’ she said quickly. ‘But I would like to come along. I thought you wanted my ideas too.’
‘Only if you really want to.’
‘I’ve said so, haven’t I?’
‘Good. Then let’s go.’
Together they left the house and while Mike brought the car from the garage, Kerry stood in the porch, her coat collar turned up against the biting wind, and a prayer on her lips. ‘I want to love him. I so much want it to be the way it was before.’ She watched him walking across the drive, a tall, handsome man whom any woman would be proud to call husband. ‘What’s wrong with me?’ she murmured. ‘I just can’t open up to him. It’s as if something is keeping us apart – keeping him and Jack apart too. And it frightens me.’
‘Your carriage awaits, m’lady.’ Smiling, Mike opened the car door and waited for her to climb in. ‘Even with a cold, red nose, you look beautiful,’ he said, and everything was so natural she thought the fault must lie with her – and the feelings she still felt for Steve.
As they drove to his old offices, Mike could not hide his excitement. ‘I need to get working again,’ he told her. ‘Too much time has been lost already.’ More than anything, he needed to focus his mind on practical matters. That way, he might be able to forget the bad things.
The premises where Mike had built his business were only ten minutes’ drive from home. Situated near the harbour of West Bay, they consisted of a yard and a small warehouse. Mike had taken out a long lease on the building and, thanks to Kerry, the lease had been kept going while he was away.
He parked the car outside the office building. In the cold, hard light of day, it looked a bleak place. The overhead sign was rusting, the painted words barely legible: ‘Peterson Hire Company. Domestic and Commercial Vehicles. Best terms. Long or Short Hire.’
‘Look at that!’ Mike pointed through the security mesh at a solitary sorry-looking van parked in the corner of the rear yard. ‘All it needs is a new engine, a lick of paint, and I’m on my way.’
Kerry smiled. ‘You’ll get the business off the ground,’ she told him as they walked to the front door.
‘You bet I will,’ he vowed. Sliding his arm round her shoulders he drew her close. ‘Especially with you on my team.’
The look on his face told her how much she meant to him and it made her feel good. Maybe it would be all right after all, she thought. Maybe, once his business was up and running, things would get back to normal – whatever ‘normal’ was.
The lock on the door had seized up. After three attempts at opening it, Mike abandoned his efforts. ‘Stay where you are,’ he told Kerry. ‘I’ll see if there’s an easier way in through the back.’
There wasn’t; the back lock, too, had rusted and jammed.
Kerry heard the sound of breaking glass and ran round to check on him. Mike had a brick in his hand. ‘Stay back!’ he called out. One more blow against the surprisingly tough glass in the back door and he could reach in. It was a long stretch down to the interior lock.
‘Be careful!’ Kerry could see him straining to reach, his arm in up to the shoulder and his whole body pressed tight against the door.
She heard a click as the lock opened. But as he moved his arm out, there was another sound, a quick, sharp crack as the large remnant of glass slid out of its socket.
Realising the danger he was in, Mike swiftly drew his arm away. The glass shattered to the ground. ‘Whew! That was close.’ Shaking bits of broken glass from the top of his shoes, he opened the door. ‘I’ll go first,’ he told Kerry. ‘Be careful of the glass though.’
When Kerry didn’t answer, he glanced at her and was astonished to see her leaning against the wall white-faced and trembling. ‘It could have sliced your arm in two,’ she said faintly. ‘You could have lost your fingers… if you hadn’t got your arm out in time…’ She bowed her head. ‘I’m sorry. It scared me, that’s all.’
He went to her. ‘Look,’ he spread his hands, ‘eight fingers, two thumbs. All present and correct.’
She smiled up at him. ‘I’m glad,’ she said, and her genuine concern meant more to him than she could ever know.
They went inside. ‘Smells musty,’ he commented, and Kerry agreed.
‘I haven’t been anywhere near the place for at least twelve months,’ she confessed. ‘Some man offered to rent it but then he backed out and I never bothered after that.’
‘It’s just as well,’ Mike told her. ‘Renting out is more trouble than it’s worth. You can never get the buggers out when you want the place back, and besides, I’ve got a feeling there’s something in the lease about that.’
Proud and e
xcited, he toured the rooms, making notes and calculating how much it would cost to get the place straight and equipped for business.
‘There’s money in the bank, thanks to my catering business,’ Kerry told him. ‘Not a lot, but you should be able to buy at least a couple of decent vehicles.’
‘What would I do without you?’ he said gratefully, and the smiles they exchanged seemed to mark a new beginning.
‘We could rip out this old reception area,’ Kerry suggested. ‘It’s too closed in. You want to project space and light, and a sense of prosperity.’
He grinned. ‘With two vehicles?’
‘Two vehicles to start with,’ she said. ‘Once you get going, there’ll be no stopping you.’
‘You really do believe in me, don’t you?’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect that.’
‘Oh?’ She wiped her fingers along the desk, trying not to appear embarrassed. ‘What did you expect?’ She clapped her hands together and a flurry of dust rose like a mushroom before her, making her cough.
‘I’m not sure.’ He ran his hands through his hair, like he always did when he was unsure of himself. ‘Maybe I don’t expect you to trust me.’ She shouldn’t, he thought. That’s why he was wary of Julie, because she saw through him, and she knew. No one should trust him ever again.
Misinterpreting him, Kerry said, ‘Why ever not? You were always a good businessman. How do you think I managed to do so well with the catering enterprise?’
The wickedness went from his mind as quickly as it had wormed its way in. ‘Because you have a good head on your shoulders,’ he answered with conviction, ‘and because, thanks to me, you were left with a family to fend for.’
‘Thanks to you, yes, Mike, because over the years you taught me everything you knew about running a business. It’s true you left me with a family to fend for, but it wasn’t your fault. You were ill.’
‘Crazy in the head, isn’t that what you mean?’ Anger welled up in him, but he pushed it down.
Kerry shook her head. ‘No, that isn’t what I meant. You were ill. We are none of us immune from illness, Mike.’
Hiding Game, The Page 9
