by Diane Wood
* * *
It wasn’t true! It wasn’t true! Alex’s brain had kept on repeating the words even when she’d looked into Nathalie’s eyes and found only a cold hardness staring back. But she’d had to accept that it was—that it had been an affair—a loving, warm, exciting, passionate, but unfortunate affair. Only now, with the door closed behind Nathalie, did Alex allow the tears to flow, but even as her emotions overwhelmed her, her brain continued its litany. It isn’t true, it isn’t true, it repeated over and over. She’s lying. Nathalie’s lying.
Chapter Nine
Protecting the Ones We Love
The alcohol and pills had knocked her out by eight o’clock and left no room for nightmares. It occurred to Nat that now she was living her nightmare and sleeping through the night.
“Christ, Nat, you look awful,” Josh said worriedly when she arrived for work that day. “Are you ill?”
“I was,” she answered quickly, “but now I’m fine—just a bad bout of gastric over the weekend.”
“Just don’t pass it on,” he’d replied, laughing. “I can’t afford to look that bad. Grace would throw me out.”
At the morning meeting the team seemed subdued.
Accepting that the leads were drying up and that the likelihood of finding the mystery woman from the club were getting progressively slimmer, they’d begun to discuss other options and review the forensic evidence. The deeper they looked the more options they came up with and the more work it involved.
Nathalie was glad. If she had her way, she’d remain at work eighteen hours a day.
At least the raging pain inside her was under control. Stifling her emotions was something she’d learned from a young age. It had helped her cope with her return to the family and Mother’s assaults on her. Now it would help her find a way to live without the only person she’d ever loved.
During lunch Nat rang the center and let Lenore Kingsley know that she’d now work Wednesday, rather than her normal Friday. Lenore sounded surprised, but she didn’t ask any questions.
The week went in a haze. Several times, Josh asked her if she was okay. It was obvious to him that something was wrong, but as usual she wouldn’t discuss it.
“Is it the new affair?” he’d asked her once, when they were in the coffee room together. “You’re like a zombie.”
“Are you complaining about my work?” she asked irritably.
“Not at all, you’re doing twice the work of everyone else, but it’s like you’re not really here and I’m worried about you as a friend, Nat, not as your boss.”
“Well, don’t be,” she’d responded coolly, walking away. “I don’t need your concern.”
* * *
Toward the end of the week, Bella popped into the office. She’d already met Lorna and Josh through Prosecutions and they offered to show her around. While they didn’t go into details, Bella seemed interested in the exhibits and information they had up on whiteboards.
“Looks interesting,” she commented, when she and Nathalie sat down for coffee. “Do you think you’ll get them?”
“Them?” asked Nathalie automatically.
“Well, I just presumed there was more than one killer?” It was an odd statement, but not unusual for Bella, who often made obscure observations. Later Bella asked about Alex.
“It’s off,” Nathalie answered hastily. “It’s not my cup of tea.”
“Alex isn’t your cup of tea or being in a relationship with a woman isn’t your cup of tea?” she asked shrewdly.
“Both,” Nathalie snapped. “And I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Well, I’d say I’m sorry,” she laughed. “Except that you don’t appear too upset about it.” Her curiosity was aroused, but Bella knew it would be pointless to pursue the issue. “So how about coming home with me tonight then?” she suggested. “It will give us a chance to catch up and get drunk. I’ll bring you back in here in the morning.”
It was agreed.
Nathalie would do anything to avoid having spare time on her hands, and she knew Bella wouldn’t harass her for information. Quite the reverse, in fact. By the time she fell into a drunken sleep in Bella’s spare room, Nathalie had become aware of how bitter Bella was about her life and particularly her relationship with Jackie and a variety of other women over the years.
The next day at work was worse because of the hangover, but in a perverse way, Nathalie welcomed it. George rang twice in the week, apparently at Mother’s insistence. The second time he rang, Mother wasn’t home.
“Why are you doing this, Nat?” he asked. “You’d broken free and now you’re back in her control?”
“I was back in her control the moment you told her who Alex Messner was,” she replied coldly. “Why did you do that, George? Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“I can’t keep things from her, Nat,” he replied sadly. “She already knew you were seeing a woman, she had photos. Later she found out I’d been to your place. She asked me about it, and that was when I remembered where I’d met Alex before. I was strung out...it just came out.”
“Strung out? Not you, George! Are the drugs a regular habit now? Is that how she controls you?”
He didn’t answer. Then tiredly he said, “She now thinks Christine’s sister has the missing journal, that Christine might have given it to her before she died.”
“Doesn’t she realize that if that was the case, Alex would have used it against her long before now? From what you said, it would be very damning.”
“I know,” he answered with a sigh. “But Mother’s convinced. The missing journal was one reason she came back. The cards told her she had to deal with outstanding problems from the past.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“The missing journal and your defection, I think. But now that she knows about your friendship with Alex, she’s even more convinced she’s in danger.”
“What is in the journal, George? Why is she so afraid of it?”
Again there was silence.
“Fuck you, George,” she said flatly. “You’re as bad as her, only more gutless. You have the means to set yourself free, and you don’t use it. But I will tell you this, if either you or Mother ever go anywhere near Alex Messner, I’ll go to the police myself, and even though I might not be able to prove most of it, it will start a major investigation.”
“You love her, don’t you?” he stated, the surprise obvious in his voice. “You came back to Mother…to us…to protect Alex?”
This time it was Nathalie who didn’t answer.
“Don’t hate me, Nat, please,” he begged suddenly. “I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t love me. I’m sorry I told Mother about your friend. I didn’t know you really cared for her.”
“I’ll see you Friday night,” she replied with a sigh. “You’re my brother, George. I can’t hate you.”
* * *
Alex didn’t go to work until Thursday, and even then she only went because of pressing appointments. There were no more tears left, just an aching emptiness and the terrible feeling she’d somehow caused this. How many times had she picked up the phone to ring Nathalie but changed her mind? It would achieve nothing. Still that voice in her head kept repeating that Nathalie was lying. That something else had happened to force Nathalie’s actions. Yet that made no sense. Ultimately she recognized that she’d have to accept that the woman really didn’t love her.
When she arrived on Friday she wasn’t surprised to find that Nathalie had changed her night at the center. Obviously she’d been in touch with Lenore and obviously Lenore realized that something had happened between them, but she made no comment.
Tomorrow she’d spend the day with Michael and James on their boat, but even the thought of a wonderful day on the harbor didn’t make Alex feel better.
* * *
Mother was dark and angry when Nathalie arrived at the house after work. It was a side of her that her clients and wealthy friends never saw, but for George and Nathali
e it was a constant. There was an obvious element of tension between George and Mother and it didn’t take Nat long to find out why.
Nat had gone to shower shortly after arriving and came out to find Belinda in her room.
“What do you want?” she asked angrily. “Aren’t I allowed any privacy?”
“You have a great body,” the young girl said, staring at her wrapped only in a towel. “I think Mrs. Silver is going to let me join in tonight.”
“And you had to come to my room to tell me this?”
“Your mother doesn’t like you very much, does she?” the girl asked, ignoring Nat’s comment.
“If you say so,” she answered, wondering where this was going.
“Well, I don’t like her much either,” she said childishly. “Sometimes she hurts me and she treats me like a servant.”
“How old are you, Belinda,” Nathalie asked suddenly.
“Eighteen.”
“That’s what George told you to tell people, but how old are you really?”
“Sixteen,” she answered shyly.
“And how long have you been with George?”
“One and a half years.”
“So you were fourteen and a half when you came here? It’s good to see nothing’s changed.”
“I love it here,” she volunteered. “Well, I did until your mother came. I make tons of money doing the parties and we get the best drugs. George even got me a fake driver’s license so I can drive his car sometimes. And one day I’m going to have his baby, he’s promised.” Sitting herself on the edge of the bed, she continued, “I came to tell you that she and George are fighting over the children. Charlotte wants them to go to America, but George told me he doesn’t want them to.”
“Has he told her that?” she asked curiously.
“Oh no, he’s told her that their mothers’ wouldn’t give him permission to take them out of the country.”
“So why tell me?”
“I just thought you should know.”
Her face appeared guileless and genuine, and it occurred to Nathalie that this child really did love George and actually believed that the world they inhabited was exciting and fun.
Once again Mother asserted her authority on the weekend, endlessly doing their Tarot cards, forcing them to play card or board games with her and introducing an abundance of illegal drugs. Nathalie knew that it was all part of the control. But she didn’t care. The drugs kept her numb and able to cope, and if she lost her job because of a random drug test, then life would go on. It always did. And if there was tension between Mother and George, then the drugs helped her remain oblivious.
Finally on Sunday afternoon Mother agreed to her going home to catch up with her household chores. There had been almost no opportunity to speak to George alone.
According to Belinda, George didn’t have a habit, but certainly his drug use had increased since Mother’s arrival, and so, according to her, had his anger. It stunned Nathalie to find out that since Mother’s return he’d lost his temper twice, once kicking out at a prized autographed guitar and the second time accidentally hitting Belinda on the chin when he lashed out at his cup after spilling some sugar over the countertop. Until now, Nathalie had never known George to be in any way aggressive and Belinda had agreed.
When she arrived back at the flat, the answer machine had two messages from Josh inviting her and Alex to lunch on Sunday at Grace’s house. She didn’t call him back.
* * *
The boat was wonderful, the ocean and the clear blue skies were wonderful, and Michael and James were kind and attentive, but Alex was miserable. The grinding ache and the belief that there was so much more to Nathalie’s decision wouldn’t give her any peace.
“I just know there’s something going on,” she insisted to Michael for the tenth time. “Something happened, and I believe it had something to do with her family.”
“That’s the first time you’ve said that,” he answered, sitting up and taking notice. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe I’m just clutching at straws,” she sighed, taking a sip of the colorful cocktail James had prepared. “But she got a phone call from her mother just before we went out that day and she seemed confused by it. When I asked her what had happened, she just said that her mother wanted to see her.”
“That doesn’t sound too strange,” commented James. “Mothers often ask to see their offspring.”
But Michael wasn’t so convinced. He knew that a call like that from Charlotte Silver would have been a demand, not an invitation, and he also knew that Charlotte Silver wasn’t like any mother these two would ever have experienced.
“Why did you think it was so strange?” Michael asked, knowing that Alex was very astute when it came to reading between the lines.
“Well, I probably didn’t at the time,” she admitted. “I mean, it’s not how Mum and I talk to each other on the phone, but I knew there was animosity between them. It was more that Nathalie seemed confused and worried when the conversation was over, and then she stayed a little distracted while we were at my mother’s.” Then shaking her head, she mumbled, “Oh shit, listen to me, I sound like Hercule Poirot. It’s just…”
She couldn’t finish for the tears choking her voice.
Seeing Alex this distressed was making Michael angry and James upset.
They spent the rest of the time trying to distract her.
On Sunday Alex woke knowing that today she’d have to bite the bullet and go and see her mother. She’d avoided her all week because she didn’t feel up to telling her about Nathalie and because she knew that when she did, she’d probably fall apart.
When she let herself in, Norma was watching the football. “We’re winning,” she stated excitedly, indicating the television. “Come sit and watch.” Then seeing her daughter’s face, she switched off the TV. “I’ll make us a hot drink,” she said, leading Alex into the kitchen. “You look like you need it.”
“It’s a shame,” Norma said quietly when Alex finished explaining. “I truly believe that she cared for you a great deal. It was written in her eyes. But whatever her reasons, you have no choice but to respect her wish to end it.”
Sighing, Alex said, “I know, Mum, but there’s no closure. It’s like a book you never get to finish. It might not have ended how you wanted, but it was important to know what happened.”
Later they ate and watched the replay of the football on pay television. That night Alex stayed in her mother’s spare bedroom—the thought of returning to the house alone simply too daunting.
* * *
The investigation was turning up more questions than answers and the briefing on Monday examined everything they had to date. It was rare to have three people murdered and so little forensic evidence. Whoever was responsible must be intelligent enough to cover their tracks well, someone said. Especially in the case of the two victims who had died quietly in their own bed.
They were split into teams of two again and given a set of assignments. Josh didn’t want the investigation at the lesbian clubs to cease because he believed the mystery woman to be an integral link, but the busy nights for the clubs were Friday and Saturday and few were opened Monday to Wednesday. This time, Josh took Nathalie as his partner and split up everyone else.
“Were you at Alex’s all weekend?” he asked with a grin, when they were alone in his office. “I left you a message.”
“I’m sorry,” she said vaguely. “I got home late.”
“What’s going on, Nat?” he asked, gently.
“What makes you think anything’s going on?” she replied sharply. “So I didn’t check my messages. It happens.”
“You look like shit, and suddenly you don’t want to talk about Alex. Don’t bullshit me, Duncan,” he said, taking hold of her shoulders. “We’re supposed to be friends.”
Shrugging him off, she put up her hands in a defensive gesture. “Don’t touch me, Josh,” she hissed angrily. “I don’t want to be touched.”
>
He’d seen her like this sometimes after the nightmares. At first he’d tried to comfort her, but she’d shy away as if he were an attacker, and although hurt, he’d come to accept it. Invariably everything would return to normal the next day. But this was the first time he’d seen her react like this in broad daylight.
“I’m sorry, Nat,” he said, putting up his hands and backing right away. “I’m just worried about you.”
“In this office, you’re my boss, not my friend, and I’m here to work, so when I’m not doing my job, that’s when you have the right to be concerned. Otherwise it’s none of your business.”
“You’re right,” he said quickly. “And I apologize. But when you leave here, you’ll revert to being my friend and I intend to find out what’s happening to you, even if it means you have to slam your door in my face.”
She didn’t answer, returning instead to the documents she’d been sifting through. For the rest of the day Nathalie remained quiet, but professional.
At the end of the day, Josh invited her to join him for a drink. Knowing she couldn’t keep the breakup from Josh any longer, she decided to get it over with.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked gently. “I know I didn’t act well when you first told me about Alex, but…well…you’re obviously upset that it’s broken up, so why finish it? What’s going on, Nat?”
“I didn’t feel comfortable in a lesbian relationship,” she offered with a shrug. “It was all wrong. The only reason I’m upset is because it’s another failure. There’s really nothing to worry about.”
He didn’t believe her, but there was no point pursuing it.
Later he discussed it with Grace and agreed that what Nathalie needed now was space.
* * *
The center was quiet on Wednesday. When Nathalie got home, the phone was ringing. It was George. Mother wasn’t home.
“I’ve lived in this apartment for years, George,” she stated impatiently. “And I’ve been in this job for a while. Why does Mother feel the need for you to keep checking on my whereabouts? It’s becoming annoying.”
