Except… what if it is true?
Suddenly I know that I need to speak to Rik. Hear what he has to say.
I hurry inside, letting the front door slam shut behind me.
‘Cat! Where on earth have you been?’ Mum’s sharp voice cuts through my thoughts.
I spin round. She’s just emerged from the kitchen, arms spread out so that the pink fringe of her shawl flutters like the wings of an exotic bird.
‘Mum, I—’
‘At least you’re here now.’ She cuts me off, glaring as if to indicate I need to watch what I say. A second later I realize why, as a man steps out from behind her. He’s tall and black, with closely cropped hair and a warm, kind smile.
‘Hi, there,’ he says, stepping forward with his hand outstretched.
‘This is Mr Tuesday, the mosaic restoration specialist,’ Mum says primly. ‘My daughter Cat.’
I shake his hand awkwardly, my eyes on the stairs. It’s 12.32. I have just half an hour to make the call to Rik. I need to get up to the privacy of my room as soon as possible.
‘And this is my son, Tyler.’ The man steps aside.
I wait, impatiently, expecting a little boy to emerge from the kitchen. But it’s a teenager who appears. Fairer than his dad, his skin the colour of almond butter, and tall. Not just tall, I realize, but upright and straight-backed. A faded T-shirt hangs perfectly from his broad shoulders. My stomach drops away inside me. He looks like a model. His brown eyes fix, unsmiling, on mine.
‘Hi,’ he says, holding up his hand.
‘Hi.’ It’s like there’s sandpaper in my throat.
Mum gazes at me, a slight frown creasing the centre of her forehead. ‘Tyler’s the same age as you, Cat,’ she says. ‘Isn’t that nice?’
I stare at her, blankly. Mum’s eyes flare with exasperation, then she spins towards Tyler, placing her hand on his arm and half closing her eyes. It’s a gesture I’ve seen her make a million times with her clients. Usually they gaze eagerly at her, desperate for her spiritual insights, but Tyler just watches, a wary expression on his face.
‘Ah,’ Mum breathes softly. ‘I sense the pain. The last thief is death and he always leaves a mark.’
How embarrassing. Tyler and his dad are both looking at her like she’s mad. I shove my hand in my pocket. My fingertips find the warm plastic of my phone. Another minute has ticked by while I’m standing here, doing nothing.
Your dad is alive.
I take a sideways step towards the stairs.
Mum’s hand flicks up, the tiny stars on her nail varnish catching the light. ‘I thought so,’ she says with a gentle sigh. ‘You’re radiating a very high empathic frequency, Tyler.’
I wince. It’s bad enough her going on about stupid astrology all the time but I really hate it when she gets all ‘fake psychic’, especially in front of complete strangers. The hall clock is now saying 12.35.
‘Am I?’ Tyler sounds baffled.
‘Um…’ Mr Tuesday is clearly lost for words.
I turn away and hurry to the stairs.
‘Cat!’ Mum snaps.
I freeze, then turn to face her. Her eyes flash a warning at me. I grip the bannisters. Surely I’m free to go now?
‘Cat, show the Tuesdays around the Barn, please,’ Mum orders.
What? My heart thuds against my ribs. No. I need to call Rik.
‘Me?’ I stare at her. ‘No… Mum, I can’t.’
‘Of course you can,’ Mum insists, steel in her voice.
I glare at her. How dare she order me about?
Ignoring my stare, Mum turns to Mr Tuesday. ‘I’m afraid I have a client in a few minutes. Please spend the rest of the day settling in. I’ll pop over later when you’ve had a chance to look at the mosaic. I can’t wait to get your expert guidance on the renovations. Just a quick question… is it likely to be noisy?’
Mr Tuesday frowns, clearly confused.
‘It’s just…’ Mum laughs. ‘Well, as a fellow artist I am sure you’ll understand. I do highly sensitive work with my clients, so my appointments have to take precedence if any of the renovations are likely to disturb.’
I grit my teeth, embarrassed now as well as furious. Typical Mum to assume her needs are more important than everyone else’s.
‘Mosaic work doesn’t usually involve too much noise,’ Mr Tuesday says with a gentle smile. ‘But I’ll let you know when I’ve taken a look.’ His voice is deep and dignified. Unlike Mum, fluttering about with her constant hand gestures, he moves slowly and calmly.
‘Right, then.’ Mum sounds flustered.
I glance at Tyler. Heat creeps up my cheeks as he meets my gaze and raises an eyebrow. He must be able to see how embarrassed Mum makes me, how desperate I am to get away.
Mum turns back to me, lowering her voice so that only I can hear her. ‘Now, Cat, please,’ she hisses, ‘or you’ll be grounded for the rest of the week.’
3
I think quickly. So long as there’s no more standing about and talking, twenty-five minutes is more than enough time to walk the Tuesdays to the Barn, show them around quickly and get back to my room to call Rik.
‘Fine,’ I say reluctantly. ‘I’ll take them to the Barn.’
Mum glares at me, clearly appalled by how sulky she thinks I’m being, then flits away.
‘This way.’ I lead the Tuesdays outside. As I cross the uneven patio I wonder if I should warn Mr Tuesday to watch his step – Mum always does when clients come out here. But when I look around, he’s already striding purposefully on to our lawn, looking around at the trees and flowers round the sides and the high brick wall behind. I sneak a sideways glance at Tyler. He’s also gazing around, his jaw hanging open.
‘What pretty delphiniums,’ Mr Tuesday says approvingly. ‘And just look at those roses.’
‘It’s so big,’ Tyler adds. ‘Nobody’s garden is this big in London.’
I fidget from foot to foot. Inside my pocket, my hand curls around my phone.
‘The Barn’s this way,’ I say, impatiently.
‘After you, Cat,’ Mr Tuesday says.
I lead the two of them across the grass and around the wall to the courtyard. The Barn stands opposite us, with the apple orchard beyond to the right.
‘What a lovely old building,’ Mr Tuesday says. He has a soft, calm way of speaking. I can’t imagine him ever getting angry. I follow his gaze to the Barn. I guess it is old, though I’ve never thought about it before. It’s made of pale stone and is much smaller than the main house.
‘Ah, here’s the mosaic…’ Mr Tuesday gazes down at the courtyard, his eyes gleaming with interest.
I haven’t looked at the courtyard mosaic in ages. Set around an old stone sundial, it’s supposed to be a horoscope showing the signs of the zodiac, but at least half the tiles are damaged, with weeds poking up all over the place. The inner circle of star-shaped tiles around the sundial is still intact, but the outer rim is almost completely gone, while three of the twelve huge star signs in between are completely missing.
‘Oh, dear, this is a mess,’ says Mr Tuesday with feeling. He crouches down to take a closer look. ‘We’ll have our work cut out for us here, Ty.’
Tyler leans against the wall, watching him. My fingers feel sweaty on my phone.
‘Er, sorry to rush you,’ I say, ‘but I really need to show you inside now.’
‘All right, then.’ Mr Tuesday straightens up. ‘Now who’s this?’ He smiles, as Bess tiptoes around the corner of the Barn, her drawing book tucked under one arm.
‘That’s my sister,’ I say, immediately feeling defensive. Strangers always expect Bess to speak. I can’t bear the look of pity on their faces when you tell them she can’t. ‘Her name’s Bess, but she doesn’t like to talk.’
‘Well, hello, Bess,’ Mr Tuesday says kindly.
Bess gives him a quick wave, glances once at Tyler, then hurries away.
I usher the Tuesdays into the Barn. The front door opens on to an open-plan living area,
with sofas and a big TV straight ahead and a kitchen area to the right.
‘Very nice,’ Mr Tuesday says approvingly. ‘From the outside, I wasn’t expecting it to be so modern. Eh, Tyler?’
‘I guess,’ Tyler says with a self-conscious shrug. He pulls out his phone and peers at the screen. A look of disappointment settles over his face. I wonder if he has someone – a girlfriend or boyfriend – back in London.
‘Look, your mother’s left us a box of groceries,’ Mr Tuesday says, wandering over to the kitchen area. ‘That’s kind of her.’
‘Yeah, and there’s some cleaning stuff in the cupboards, and that –’ I point to a door under the stairs – ‘that’s a downstairs loo. Let’s go up now.’
‘Sure.’ If Mr Tuesday is feeling rushed he doesn’t show it. He and Tyler follow me up to the first-floor landing.
‘Two bedrooms and a bathroom,’ I say, pointing to each door in turn.
I check the time. 12.42. I still have eighteen minutes to get to my room and make my call. I tap my fingers against the landing wall while Mr Tuesday and Tyler explore the rooms. I don’t know what they’re looking at. The bedrooms are plain and empty – apart from the beds, wardrobes and curtains. It couldn’t be more different from our house, with its crazy prints and ornaments everywhere.
‘Look, Ty,’ Mr Tuesday says, peering out of the back bedroom window. ‘It’s an apple orchard. What varieties do you grow here?’
I stare at him blankly. ‘Er, sorry, I don’t know.’
‘I bet you’ll know this…’ Tyler says. It’s the first time he’s spoken directly to me.
‘What?’ I ask, feeling self-conscious.
‘Where can I get Wi-Fi?’
‘There isn’t any in the Barn,’ I explain. ‘It’s not great in the house either. Patchy.’
Tyler’s face falls.
‘I know, it sucks. Maybe if you ask Mum she’ll fix it up for you.’ I fidget from foot to foot. 12.47. Thirteen minutes.
‘Well, I think there’s a lot to be said for a little less internet.’ Mr Tuesday chuckles. ‘Eh, Tyler?’
Tyler makes a face. He doesn’t seem wound up though. I’m getting the impression that he and his dad actually get on really well.
‘Just the attic left to see,’ I say, hurrying across the landing. ‘There’s another bedroom up there.’
‘You go on, Tyler, I’m happy with this one.’ Mr Tuesday turns back to the window.
I race up the second set of stairs to the top floor. Tyler lollops after me.
I’m itching to tell him to hurry up.
The Barn’s attic is a big room, though the roof slopes dramatically on either side, meaning the portion you can stand up in isn’t huge. There’s a double bed in the middle of the room and a window seat that runs the length of the huge window. I gaze at the expanse of floor between the window and the bed which, just yesterday, was covered in the fabric for the dress I was making.
‘Wow,’ Tyler says.
I check the time on my phone again. 12.50. Time to leave.
‘There’s a shower room too,’ I gabble, pointing to a door on the left.
I take a step back, towards the landing.
‘Three bathrooms in a house for two people,’ Tyler drawls. ‘We’re not going to smell while we’re here, are we?’
He smiles. It transforms his face, all the intensity falling away and his eyes lighting up with warmth. For a second, I’m transfixed. His eyes are beautiful: a hint of gold shining through the brown.
‘I have to go,’ I say, backing away and hoping he can’t see that I’m blushing.
Tyler stares at me. Feeling overwhelmed, I turn and fly out of the room, down the stairs and out of the Barn. Across the shade of the courtyard and on to the lawn, where the sun beats down on my face.
As I enter the house, I can hear Mum greeting her client. ‘Welcome, such a wonderful day for a reading. Jupiter is in retrograde, the perfect time to reflect on visions, ideals and beliefs. This way.’
I race up to my room and shut the door firmly behind me. It’s 12.54. I still have six minutes.
My fingers fumble as I find Rik’s number. I hesitate for a moment, then press video call. I need to see his face. It’ll be easier to tell if he’s lying that way.
I keep my own video off.
The top of the screen fills with a fuzzy picture: the edge of a table, a door opening. It’s someone moving. A blur, then a man’s face appears. He’s younger than Mum and Dad, but still lots older than me. Beads of sweat glint on his forehead.
‘Cat? Is that you?’ he asks. ‘Are you there?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘It’s me.’
A look of relief fills his face. ‘Oh, thank goodness. Cat, I’m Rik Adamski.’ The hint of a smile lifts the corners of his mouth. ‘I know this is a shock, but it’s true. Your dad is alive.’
Hearing the words said out loud whips the ground out from underneath me. I sink on to my bed.
‘Cat?’ Rik peers more closely at the screen. ‘Did you realize your video is off?’
I take a deep breath, trying to focus.
Rik blinks, anxiously, intent on seeing my face. ‘Cat? Are you okay?’
‘But Dad drowned in a boating accident,’ I blurt out. ‘The police said so. I… I went to his funeral. His boat was so battered from the storm he got caught out in, it couldn’t be repaired.’ Emotion swells inside me. ‘How can he possibly be alive?’
There’s a pause. ‘Your dad made the boat look like that. He didn’t drown,’ Rik says. ‘Your dad faked his own death.’
4
Faked his own death?
‘Cat, are you still there?’
I let the video show my face so Rik can see the disbelief written all over it.
‘No.’ I shake my head. ‘There’s no way.’
Rik’s expression is intense and deeply serious. ‘I know this is a lot to take in, Cat, but think about it. Your dad’s body was never found, was it?’
‘No, but that’s… that can happen when you die at sea. Dad wouldn’t…’ I trail off, anger rising through my shock. How dare this man suggest that Dad would have deliberately chosen to leave us? Dad loved us. Furious tears prick at my eyes.
‘I’m so sorry.’ Rik’s face creases with sympathy. ‘I realize this is overwhelming, but I promise you, Cat, your dad faked his own death.’ He pauses. ‘He didn’t have any choice.’
‘No.’ An angry sob swells inside me. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. Dad wouldn’t.’
‘Let me try to explain,’ Rik says, his voice urgent. ‘It all happened by accident. One day, eighteen months ago, your dad and I were alone in the shop and a woman approached us for a private valuation. She claimed she’d inherited a collection and offered us hundreds of pounds just to examine a few bits of jewellery.’ He sighs. ‘We should have realized that there was something dodgy going on but… well, she was in a hurry and you know your dad… always happy to help people.’
I nod, remembering how on our strolls through the village, everyone Dad and I passed would stop to smile and chat with him.
‘To cut a long story short,’ Rik goes on, ‘your dad and I agreed to do the valuation. We started checking over the jewellery and among all the necklaces and rings there was this cheap-looking box with a rusty clasp. It was obvious it hadn’t been opened for years, so your dad prised it open carefully and…’ his voice fills with hushed awe, ‘… and inside we found a huge and priceless blue diamond.’
I frown, unimpressed. What on earth does this have to do with Dad faking his death?
Rik leans closer to the lens, his face filling my screen. ‘Someone had wound the diamond with a bit of chain and when your dad held it up, it sparkled in the light like it was on fire. It was by far the most valuable thing either of us had ever seen. Worth millions. The diamond was flawless.’
I can see he’s expecting me to be properly wowed by this news, but all I want is to find out about Dad.
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘but why does any of
this—?’
‘We thought the woman would be delighted to discover she had a priceless diamond on her hands, but as soon as we told her, she got very aggressive. That was when we found out exactly who she was.’
‘Who?’ I ask.
‘Fran Farmer, the head of the Fran Farmer Gang. A bunch of local gangsters, very much under the radar, but up to their eyes in violent crime.’ Rik pauses.
A shiver snakes down my spine.
‘It turned out that this Blue Fire diamond, as we called it, was part of a haul of stolen goods the gang had smuggled into the country,’ Rik goes on. ‘Fran Farmer clearly hadn’t realized the diamond was even there, let alone that it was so valuable. And she was furious that we’d seen it. She got a couple of her heavies to threaten us… Your dad and I were told to keep our mouths shut or else…’
‘So… so what happened?’ I gulp. Poor Dad; he must have been terrified.
‘We did what Farmer asked,’ Rik says. ‘Your dad and I knew full well we were supposed to report the discovery of any significant gemstones to the authorities, but we were too scared to do it and then…’ he hesitates.
‘Then what?’
‘Disaster.’ Rik lets out a low groan. ‘At some point over the next couple of days the diamond was stolen from the gang and Fran Farmer blamed us. Me and your dad.’
‘No!’ I gasp. ‘But Dad wouldn’t steal anything.’
‘Of course he wouldn’t,’ Rik says. ‘And neither would I. My guess is some rival gang member was responsible. Anyway, Fran Farmer was convinced we’d stolen it, and she had a lot of very violent people backing her up.’
I shake my head. Rik sounds like he’s describing the plot of an action movie. ‘Why didn’t you go to the police?’ I ask.
‘We wanted to,’ Rik says. ‘But Fran Farmer threatened to kill us and our families if we did.’ He pauses. ‘She torched my car to show she was serious. It was parked right by my house and she set it on fire.’
I stare at the screen. It’s like I’m outside my own body, watching myself listen to him.
‘Your dad and I were left with just one option. Going into permanent hiding was the only way to keep the people we loved safe.’
Hide and Secrets Page 2
