Samantha walked down the street, looking up at all the lit windows. She could see houseplants, wall hangings, paintings, book-cases. Why didn’t people close their curtains, draw their blinds? The door she was looking for was like all the other doors; painted black, set in a cream facade. Steps led up to it. Samantha didn’t pause. She went right up to it and rang the bell of the appropriate flat. She knew, even before the call was answered, that a woman would respond. Samantha rang the bell again, and eventually a woman’s voice oozed out of the intercom; husky and confident. ‘Who is it?’
I have to get in, Samantha thought. ‘Mrs Lorrance,’ she said. Her heart had increased its pace a little.
‘I don’t know any “Mrs Lorrance”,’ said the voice.
Samantha hated that voice already. ‘I just want a moment of your time,’ she said. ‘It’s a personal matter.’ Her own voice was light and friendly. She wasn’t stupid enough to go pounding in with anger and accusation. That would get her nowhere.
‘I’ll be out in a minute,’ said the woman and the intercom went silent.
You don’t know anything yet, Samantha told herself as she waited on the door-step. This might all be explained. She stood with her back to the door, looking down the street.
The door opened and Samantha turned round. She noticed the bright red hair first, then the face with its puffy eyes, the look of someone who’d just woken up. The woman had a striking appearance, but there was a slyness to her expression. She said, ‘Yeah? What is it?’
Samantha smiled. ‘Hello, I realise you don’t know me, but I called my husband here the other day - Rhys Lorrance.’
A small smile played subtly around the woman’s mouth. She said, ‘Did you?’
‘Yes. Would you mind telling me what he was doing here?’
The woman’s smile became more blatant. ‘Why don’t you ask him?’
At that point, Samantha knew she was looking at her husband’s mistress, a woman who was enjoying this encounter. ‘I’m asking you,’ she said.
The woman shrugged. ‘And maybe I don’t want to tell you.’ Her smile became a grin. ‘Bye bye, Samantha. Just you go on home, now.’ She began to retreat into the hall-way, and then a man’s voice called out, ‘Gina, what is it?’ He appeared behind her, wrapped in a bath robe, his hair wet.
Samantha saw the woman’s expression become furtive. ‘Nothing,’ she said and tried to shut the door. Samantha wouldn’t let her. She stepped forward, her hand flat against the wooden panels. ‘You’re screwing my husband,’ she said.
The man came forward, his face set into a puzzled frown. ‘What the fuck is this?’
‘This woman’s mad,’ said Gina.
‘Mad, am I?’ Samantha’s voice had become more strident, her accent less refined. ‘How long has it been going on? Just tell me that.’
‘Just go away.’ Gina flapped her hands in Samantha’s direction. ‘I don’t appreciate hysterical women accosting me on my doorstep.’
Aspects of Samantha’s wild East End youth reared up within her. She grabbed hold of Gina by the hair, felt the satisfying rip of roots. ‘You’re a whore!’ she screeched, throwing Gina back against the hallway wall.
The man hurried forward and tried to intervene, so Samantha kicked him on the shin. ‘What’s all this about?’ he demanded as he hopped backwards. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘Rhys Lorrance’s wife,’ screamed Samantha. ‘That’s who I am.’
‘Rhys Lorrance,’ said the man. ‘Gina, what the hell’s going on?’
Gina had managed to pull herself away from Samantha, who now stood clutching only a handful of red hair. ‘Get rid of that fucking bitch, Gus! Get rid of her!’ Gina ran back into the flat.
The man faced Samantha. ‘Would you mind telling me what’s happening?’
Samantha pointed a shaking finger at the flat door. ‘You can tell her that I’ll be citing her in my divorce, OK? I’ll be taking Rhys to the fucking cleaners, so she needn’t think she’ll end up with much.’
‘That’s my partner you’re talking about,’ said the man.
‘She’s my husband’s whore,’ said Samantha with satisfaction. ‘She’s had him here. I know. I spoke to him on the phone while he was here.’
The man’s face closed in like clouds over the sky. Samantha saw jealousy there, like a bruise beneath the skin. She knew that look in a man’s face. She knew what came with it. ‘It’s true,’ she said. ‘It was yesterday. We’ve both been had.’
She turned to leave and then paused to say, ‘Oh, what’s her full name?’
‘Virginia Allen,’ said the man. He was staring at the door to his home.
Samantha walked away. She felt buoyant, released. She wouldn’t divorce Rhys. She wouldn’t have to. She had a feeling Ms Allen’s affair with her husband had just ended. Rhys didn’t like mess. He didn’t like trouble. She’d tell him what she’d done, of course, and act hurt and upset. He’d make it up to her.
Instead of contacting any friends, Samantha drove straight back to Emmertame, full of confidence. Her instincts had been right, she’d acted on them, and now, in her opinion, the matter was closed. She was prepared for a couple of days’ unpleasantness at home, but that was a necessary by-product of her action.
As she’d expected, Rhys’s car was parked outside. He’d have found out about the forced locks by now. He might be angry, but she had enough ammunition to counter any attack. Her break-in had been justified. Hadn’t she proved that?
The lodge at the gate was in darkness, and Terry’s car wasn’t there. Mrs Moran would have gone home for the day, so Samantha would have privacy for her encounter with her husband. She felt fired up, ready for it.
As she parked her car next to the Mercedes on the drive, Samantha noticed the front door of the house stood slightly open. Light spilled out into the drive-way. Puzzled, she hurried from the car. Wind hissed high overhead, but at ground level, the air was still. Samantha shivered. She felt frightened. An open door onto the night was not a normal thing. She wanted everything to go back to normal now.
Samantha reached the threshold. She pushed the door open wider.
He lay there on the floor in the hall, his limbs in an eerie approximation of a swastika. Blood ran out of him in a wide, thick line, almost to Samantha’s feet. She could tell immediately that he was dead.
Samantha was a rational, practical person. She did not rave or weep, she did not collapse or scream. She swore softly beneath her breath in a relentless monotone as she knelt over her husband’s body. There was an enormous wound in the back of his head, where the blood had flowed from. A small, corresponding wound on his forehead suggested he’d been shot. His chest was injured too. Her hand hovered a few inches above his head. His eyes were opened, but filmed. Did she know this person? She couldn’t feel anything inside. She was completely numb, and yet some deep part of her was not surprised by what she’d found. How could that be?
When she stood up, she felt a bit light-headed, but was capable to making her way to the living-room and dialling 999. Then she sat down on the sofa and spent the time until the police and ambulance arrived crying. The tears were silent, cleansing, a kind of release. It was so strange. She was shocked by what she’d seen, but couldn’t feel grief.
Chapter Twelve
Jay and Dex spent two days staying with Sally Olsen. Sally said to Jay, ‘it must be like when you first met’, but it wasn’t. Jay and Dex were completely different people now. She could lie in his arms, breathing in that old, familiar scent, and feel sure that she was beginning to really know him. There were no secrets between them now. She knew he was afraid of returning to the real world, but like her, he’d never belonged in Lestholme, and it would never be enough to satisfy him. The previous night, after they’d made love, Dex had said to her, ‘I’m ready now.’
Jay’s eyes had filled with tears. She kissed his eyelids, his forehead, his cheeks. They did not have to repeat history. They had a different awareness now, and could create a n
ew life for themselves. Jay felt serene and supremely confident. Things that had once mattered to her seemed irrelevant. ‘It’ll be good,’ she said.
When Jay went out into Sally’s garden on the morning of the third day, she could smell autumn in the air. Summer would fade for Lestholme, she thought, but no doubt in their new time they would have equally idyllic winters.
Sally came out of the house behind her. She folded her arms and stood next to Jay on the patio. ‘You’re going to leave today, aren’t you?’
Jay nodded. ‘I think so.’ She smiled at Sally. ‘We all have to find the place that’s right for us.’
‘You’ll be missed,’ Sally said, then frowned a little. ‘Funny. I’ve never noticed anybody leave before.’ She paused. ‘It feels different here now, doesn’t it?’
Jay detected a slight note of anxiety in Sally’s voice. ‘It’ll be better,’ she said. Although she would not voice her thoughts, she felt that Lorrance’s influence had gone, and the villagers might not live in quite so much of a dream. Perhaps Lestholme would become more of a retreat, where people could rest temporarily from the world.
‘You’ve all been good for me,’ Jay said, and hugged Sally tightly. ‘I’ve learned such a lot.’
‘You’ve affected us too,’ Sally said.
Around lunch-time, Jay and Dex went back to Gus’ car at the pub. Some of the villagers had gathered to see them off. To Jay, it felt as if she’d been on a long holiday, where she’d met friends whom she’d probably never see again. Intense relationships can form on holidays, but they rarely last beyond that capsule of time. The person it would hurt most to leave was Jem. The girl hadn’t been around much for the past few days, no doubt aware that Dex and Jay had needed time together. Now, as they strolled to the pub, Jay looked for Jem among the people around them. It wasn’t until they reached the car that she saw the girl sitting on a low wall next to the road. Jem stood up as they approached.
‘I wondered where you were,’ said Jay.
Jem smiled.
Jay realised she was going to find it very hard to say good-bye. She hoped that within Jem some healing process had begun to take place. ‘I’ll miss you,’ she said.
‘No you won’t,’ Jem answered.
‘Jem, I will!’
‘No you won’t.’ Jem took her hand and spoke gravely. ‘I’d like to come with you. If that’s all right.’
‘Jem! Is that all right? Don’t be stupid. I’d love you to come.’ She looked at Dex. ‘We both would.’
Dex just shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
Jem reached down behind the wall and picked up a battered canvas bag, which clearly contained her entire possessions. ‘I can’t hide from what happened to me,’ she said, ‘but I can make the decision to let it go.’
Jay nodded. ‘Well, let’s go, then. No point in waiting.’
Jay got into the driver’s side of the car, Dex beside her, while Jem scrambled into the back. ‘Technically, we’re car thieves,’ Jay said. ‘Do you think we’re likely to be stopped on the motorway by police?’
Dex fastened his seat belt. ‘I don’t think that will happen,’ he said.
They set off down the road, in the direction the bus had taken a few days before. Villagers waved goodbye, then drifted back to their homes. Jay felt slightly disorientated. It was difficult to believe she was actually going back.
‘What do you want to do when we get back?’ Dex asked her.
She sighed. ‘First, I want to go back to the flat. There are a few things that need resolving.’ She glanced round at Jem. ‘What about you?’
The girl shrugged. ‘I don’t know yet. I want to see what it feels like first.’
Jay turned a corner in the lane. When had the trees lost their foliage? She hadn’t been watching for the moment of transition, but it was clear they were back in the world they’d left behind. She saw a tractor making slow progress up a ploughed field. They had to pull in to the side of the lane to let another car pass.
‘And what about you, Dex?’ Jay asked. So far, he’d said nothing about his intentions.
He glanced at her. ‘I feel much the same as Jem,’ he said. ‘How can I know yet?’ He exhaled slowly. ‘I don’t want to take up where I left off. You don’t expect that of me, do you?’
Jay reached out to squeeze his knee. ‘No. I don’t think any of us should do that.’
They drove into London near dawn. Dex had taken over the driving, so that Jay could doze. Jem had also fallen asleep for the last stage of the journey. Early morning traffic rushed around them, the faces of the drivers intent and faintly hostile. Jay woke first and glanced round at Jem, perhaps to check that she was still there. She found herself looking at a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties. ‘Dex, she’s changed,’ Jay said.
Dex took a quick look, then shook his head. ‘Lestholme might be a hole in time, but London’s very much caught up in it.’
‘Perhaps she’s always been that way,’ Jay said, ‘only we just couldn’t see it. She never stopped growing up.’
‘We’re back,’ Dex said. ‘What else should we expect? If Jem is to function in this world, make contact with her relatives, she must be part of it.’
Before they turned onto the road where Jay had lived, Dex stopped the car, so that Jay could nip into a newsagents’ and buy a paper. She had to know how much time had passed. The date on the paper was 28th November. She felt as if she’d been away for months, but it was only weeks. Such was her eagerness to discover this information, the headline hadn’t grabbed her attention immediately. Now, she saw it, and quickly scanned the story.
‘Dex,’ she said in a low voice. ‘What we saw was real. Lorrance is dead.’
Dex nodded slowly, but didn’t appear that shocked. ‘OK. What’s it say?’
‘Just that he’s been shot.’ She read the story out to him. The police had no suspects, although the wife of the dead man had spoken about shadowy business associates that she’d always suspected of dirty dealings. Perhaps later the wife herself would be accused. That could happen. ‘So, who do you think did it now?’ Jay asked Dex. ‘Charney’s mob or Peter’s?’
Dex shook his head. They had come to Jay’s old road and he parked the car a short distance from the flat. ‘It could be either,’ he said, ‘or even Samantha, as you suggested, or Lacey, or Michaels, or anyone Lorrance ever damaged. I don’t care. I’m glad he’s dead now. I really am, Jay.’
She reached out to squeeze his arm.
Jem stirred in the back seat. ‘Are we here?’ she asked, brushing hair from her eyes.
‘You slept like a log,’ Jay said. ‘Yeah, we’re here.’
Jem yawned and stretched. ‘I’m stiff all over.’
Jay turned the rear view mirror towards the girl. ‘Look at yourself,’ she said.
Jem did so, rubbing her face with the fingers of one hand. ‘I look terrible, like I’ve slept in a ditch.’
‘You’re a woman, Jem. A young woman.’
Jem looked puzzled. ‘I know, Jay. What’s the matter with you?’
Jay and Dex exchanged an amused glance. Then Jay said, ‘Oh well, time to get this over with.’ She opened the car door.
‘Do you want moral support?’ Dex asked her.
Jay shook her head. ‘No, but get out of the car. There’s a cafe down the road. You could wait there for me.’ It was then she noticed, with some surprise, that her own car was parked outside the flat, its flanks dull with a muddy patina. ‘That’s mine,’ she said to Dex, pointing at the vehicle. ‘At least we’ll have transport.’
Dex paused, then said, ‘Jay, I think we should go to Julie’s after this.’
Jay nodded. ‘Yes, that’s a distinct possibility. But let’s take things one step at a time.’ She kissed Dex on the mouth. ‘Please go, now. Give me the car keys. I’ll see you shortly. The cafe’s called Anna’s, it’s down there, not far.’
Dex was clearly reluctant to leave her, but Jem linked her arm through his and dragged him
off down the street. Jay watched them go. The love she felt for them would sustain her through whatever happened next.
She glanced up at the windows. The curtains were drawn. It was still very early. Perhaps Gus wouldn’t be there. What would she do if Gina answered the door?
Jay pressed the buzzer for her flat. She had to press it several times, on each occasion leaving her finger there for longer. Eventually, she invoked a grumpy-sounding Gus. ‘Who the fuck is it?’
‘Hello lover,’ Jay said lightly. ‘Are you going to open the door or do I break another window?’
There was a stunned silence, then the soft word ‘Jay’ and the sound of the lock being activated. Jay opened the door. Her heart was beating fast.
Gus was unshaven and sheepish, wrapped in a dressing-gown at the threshold of the flat. He tried to say something, but Jay just pushed past him and marched into the living room. The flat was in the same squalid condition as the last time she’d seen it. She turned and saw Gus came to stand in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked awkward in the extreme. Jay folded her arms. ‘Well?’
Gus shrugged. ‘Jay, I...’
‘Where is she?’
‘Where’s who?’
‘You know damn well who. The virginal Virginia. Is she hiding in the bedroom?’
Gus frowned. ‘No... She’s not here.’
‘Lucky for her, then. Would you mind explaining to me what you’re doing here? I presume you broke in and took possession. How long ago was this?’
Gus ventured forward. ‘Jay, you just disappeared. Gina told me what had happened, and how you’d gone to that wanker’s sister...’
Jay nodded slowly, her eyes narrow. ‘Did she now? Was it her idea for you to come back here?’
‘Well, you just left it, didn’t you? It would have been repossessed. The mortgage was still going out of the joint account. What did you expect me to do? Just let the place rot? How was I to know you’d change your mind and come back?’
Thin Air Page 31
