Over lunch the others chatted and laughed with the nervous gaiety that comes with relief from strain, but Laura, increasingly aware of some imminent danger, grew more and more silent. At last she pushed her plate away.
‘I’m sorry. I’m too excited to eat. I’ll just go up and put a few more things into the case I had with me at Moorlands. I can leave the rest here for now, can’t I?’
‘Of course,’ Caroline said brightly. ‘Would you like me to come and help you?’
‘No, you finish your lunch. I won’t be long.’ She picked up her handbag and walked as steadily as she could out of the security of the dining-room and stood for a moment looking up the wide staircase. What was it that was disturbing her so much? She was only aware of a tense, excited feeling of expectancy.
Step by step she went up the stairs, her heart thumping painfully. Would she ever be able to love this house of Edward’s as it deserved to be loved, or had Noel’s obsessive passion for it spoilt it for her forever?
On the landing she paused again and listened. A burst of laughter reached her from the dining-room. In the kitchen, Mrs. Baines had her transistor blaring. Upstairs, all was quiet. It took a considerable effort to propel herself forward to her own room. She opened the door and waited. Everything was as it should be. She took a step inside and as she did so, a hand came over her mouth and Lewis’s voice said in her ear, ‘It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m sorry I had to frighten you. I wasn’t sure who was coming.’
She shook his hand away from her mouth and as she turned to look at him wild, unreasoning fear rushed over her. He was smiling down at her.
‘You didn’t really think I’d let them take you away a second time?’
She said numbly, ‘How—how did you—?’
‘It was easy enough. Caroline had just taken young Peter off in the car. I simply walked up the drive and let myself in. Mrs. Baines was closeted in the kitchen and didn’t hear a thing. I’d been watching the house for days, of course, and Peter’s purposeful removal was the one hint I was waiting for. Look, darling, we’ll have to hurry. I parked my car round the corner, down the side road. We’ll slip out through the French windows. They won’t see us from the dining-room.’
Her mouth was hot and dry, full of heartbeats. ‘Lewis—forgive me. I can’t come with you.’
‘Of course you can. Give me your case and I’ll help you pack. We haven’t long. Caroline might come up to see how you’re getting on.’
‘Lewis, I’m Laura!’
He paused to glance at her. ‘Yes, at the moment you are. It doesn’t matter.’
‘I’ll never be Noel again, Lewis.’
He straightened slowly. ‘What did they do to you in that madhouse?’
‘Just helped me to know myself better.’
‘They didn’t hurt Noel?’
‘Of course not. She wasn’t there.’
A frightened look crossed his face. ‘Laura, hurry—we must get away.’
‘I’m not coming, Lewis,’ she said as steadily as her tumultuous pulses would allow.
‘Noel?’ His eyes raked agonizingly over her face.
Wordlessly she shook her head.
‘You are Noel!’ His eyes focussed on her hair, soft round her face, and she saw his anguished doubt. If only one of them would come upstairs—if she could only find some way of attracting their attention—
‘Come along, we’re going!’ His hand closed over her wrist but she twisted free, backing away from him, and in that moment, unbelievably, something appeared in his hand, something small and black and blunt and ugly. Her eyes dilated in horror, travelling slowly upwards from the weapon to his face. It was glistening with sweat, his eyes wide open and staring. He gave a low, excited laugh.
‘It’s all right, my darling. I shan’t hurt you. I knew there was a chance that they wouldn’t let you come. I came prepared.’
‘Lewis,’ she whispered frantically, backed up against the door. She was still clutching her handbag with both hands in an ineffectual attempt to shield herself from the menace that faced her, while her mind darted round the possibilities of wrenching open the door behind her. But it opened inwards, and before she could make more than one movement, he might—
He said rapidly, ‘This time, my darling, there will be no mistake. We really will go together and no one will ever separate us again.’
She watched, completely paralyzed, as his hand came up.
‘You won’t feel a thing, my love.’
She flung herself sideways a fraction too soon and his hand followed her unwaveringly. In a last, instinctive attempt to save herself, she again caught up the leather bag, holding it across her body with both hands, and in the same moment came the shattering jar of impact, all the more terrible for being almost silent. She hurtled backwards and the bag flew out of her hands. As she fell, she heard Lewis’s cry—‘Wait for me, Noel!’ and another dull explosion as his body crashed to the floor.
There was a searing pain in her left arm and her ankle was twisted beneath her. It occurred to her slowly that she was capable of feeling pain, yet surely it wasn’t possible that she was still alive? Cautiously she opened her eyes. Above her was the end of the bed, its flowered counterpane trailing on the carpet, and half under it lay the handbag, with a small, powder scorched hole in the middle of it. She stared at it uncomprehendingly and as she did so a coldness, tangible as the touch of a hand, brushed across her face in a gesture of farewell.
With an effort she raised her heavy, aching head, and quickly let it drop again. At her feet Lewis lay, still smiling, a neat hole in his right temple.
‘Oh, God!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, God!’ How was it that he could possibly have missed her? Impossible that the soft leather of the bag could have deflected the bullet. She reached out a hand, stretching the fingers to the limit and inching her shoulder along the floor until she could touch the strap and draw it towards her.
Inside lay the bullet, harmless and spent beside the shattered silver compact. Noel—Lewis—Always. Tears of grief and weakness filled her eyes. So at the last Noel had saved her after all. She had no further need of her. She had Lewis, which was all she had ever wanted.
Downstairs, at last, a voice called her name, and footsteps came running up the stairs. With the mutilated compact tenderly cradled in her hand, she waited for the door to open.
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