Jane Corry 26 страница

‘Ifs will drive you mad, ’ he continues. ‘You did your best, Lily. You really did. And if you made a few mistakes along the way, well, that’s life. ’

Mum comes into the room with a tray of coffee for our visitor and hears the end of the last sentence. She catches my eye and then looks away. But it’s too late. I know what she’s thinking. If I’m really going to heal, I have to tell the truth. The very last part of my story. The bit I never told my husband, or the grief counsellor the hospital encouraged me to see.

Ross is a good friend. I owe it to him. And, maybe more importantly, I owe it to myself.

I was eleven when my parents took on Daniel. It wasn’t the first time they’d brought children into the house. Remember that little brother and sister who Dad kept saying I was going to have? Only later did I find out that Mum had had one miscarriage after another. So my parents turned to fostering to give me ‘company’.

Of course, it was brilliant of them to do it. But it didn’t feel like that at the time.

Some of the kids were all right. Others weren’t. There were times when I’d come back from school to find Mum playing with a three-year-old. I’d want to talk to her about my day, but she would be too busy. The social worker would be coming to do a check. Or she had to take the child to the doctor because he or she had a wheezy chest.

I wouldn’t have minded except that they weren’t real brothers and sisters. They took my parents away from me. And they made me feel different. My friends at school thought it was weird that my socially aware parents took in one kid after another, looking after them for anything from a few days to a year before they’d go away and others would replace them.

Eventually, my parents got the message. ‘You’re going to have a full-time brother, ’ my father announced one morning. I remember it well. We were eating boiled eggs at the time, in our home in London. A trim, neat, semi-detached house with pebble-dash. Nothing bigger, even though my mother’s family were quite well off, because that didn’t suit my parents’ socialist principles. ‘He’s had a rough start to life, ’ my mother said. ‘Poor little thing had parents who were… well, who did bad things. So sometimes he behaves badly too. He’s been in and out of foster homes, but now we’re going to adopt him. Give him a proper home. ’ She gave me a comforting hug. ‘And you can help too, Lily, by being a kind big sister. You must look after him with us. ’

And then Daniel arrived.

He was a year younger than me but looked older with his tall, lanky stance and a wild mass of tousled black hair. With hindsight, my parents could have thought it through more carefully. But they wanted to make a difference – to take the child no one else would. Later I found out that Daniel’s mother had been a prostitute, addicted to heroin, although he used to claim she was a trapeze artist in a circus. (He was good at embroidering facts to make them more exciting. ) His father was in prison for a drug-induced double killing. (Daniel never spoke of him. )

From the minute he arrived, Daniel began to push the boundaries. No, he wouldn’t go to school. No, he wouldn’t come home when he’d promised. No, he hadn’t stolen money from Mum’s purse. Didn’t we trust him?

In fact, there was only one person whom Daniel trusted.

‘You, ’ says Ross quietly. I glance out of the window on to the lawn where Tom is playing croquet with my father. He throws his mallet in the air with joy when he gets the ball through the hoop, just as Daniel used to. He stamps his foot on the ground when he misses a shot. At times, the similarities are extraordinary, even though there is no blood link.

Nature or nurture? I often wonder.

‘Yes, ’ I say softly. ‘Daniel trusted me. For some reason, he latched on to me. Adored me. But I let him down. ’

Ross’s hand is holding mine. Firmly. Comfortingly. Non-judgementally. I think of how Ross helped me through Ed’s betrayals. And I know that just as Daniel trusted me, so I can trust Ross. I won’t just tell him the half-version of Daniel’s death that I told Joe at the pub. Or the version I gave Ed where I left out a vital scene.

I will tell Ross the whole truth.

It was the other girls at school that started it. They all fancied my adopted brother. He was so good-looking: so tall, with that mop of hair and slightly lopsided, endearing smile. How he made everyone laugh! Daniel specialized in playing the classroom fool. He would answer back. Make fun of the teachers. Get into trouble. The more he got told off, the worse he became. He started stealing other kids’ money and then swearing blind it wasn’t him.

When Mum’s dad died, she inherited the house in Devon. It would be a fresh start for my brother, my parents said when I kicked up a fuss about leaving my old school. And it was. Daniel and I loved our new home. Such a novelty to live by the sea!

I pause for a moment and look out of the window again at the waves, lashing against the rocks on the far side of the bay.

My parents did everything they could to make Daniel happy. They got him Merlin and took on a rescue dog at the same time. They ignored bad behaviour because they believed in ‘positive praise’. They bought him the new jacket he wanted when I’d not been allowed a fluffy blue jumper I’d had my eye on. (He needed it and I didn’t, apparently. )

‘I was chosen by them, ’ Daniel would announce proudly at times.

But during his blacker moments, the mask would slip. ‘I don’t want to be different, Lily, ’ he’d say. ‘I want to be like you. Like everyone else. ’

Daniel wasn’t the only one to be confused. Sometimes I was jealous of the attention that my parents piled on him. At other times, I was overwhelmed with love for my new brother, grateful that I finally had the company I had craved. But every now and then, something would occur which made me wonder what would have happened if they’d chosen someone else.

Of course, Daniel still got into trouble, just like he had in London. It was the same old things. Lying about homework. Lying about where he’d been. I’d cover up for him. It was what a sister did. Once a shopkeeper ran out after us, claiming that Daniel had stolen a bag of sweets.

‘He wouldn’t do that, ’ I insisted.

But when we were allowed to leave, Daniel took the packet out of his sock.

I went back to the shop, explaining that there had been a misunderstanding. And Daniel swore never to do it again. ‘I promise. I promise. ’

His childhood – and mine – were peppered with similar incidents.

Later, when he’d just turned fifteen, a local girl claimed he’d slept with her. It was all over school.

‘It’s not true, ’ he laughed when I asked him about it. ‘Why would I want to do that? She’s a slut. Anyway, there’s only one girl I want. ’

‘Who? ’ I asked teasingly.

His face closed down as if someone had drawn a curtain across it. ‘Not saying. ’

But then, one day, I got my first date.

I stop, my cheeks flushing.

It was one of the boys from the local school. All my friends had been asked out by now. But they were prettier than me. Slimmer.

My mother was excited for me. ‘What are you going to wear? ’

Daniel was furious. He wouldn’t talk to me. And when I finally came downstairs, after spending ages getting ready, my brother informed me that the boy had called to say he couldn’t make it. Later, I found out that Daniel had stood outside the front door, waiting for him, and then lied. Told him that I didn’t want to go out after all.

Ross gently interrupts. ‘Didn’t you wonder if…’ His voice tails off.

‘No. I know it sounds silly, but I just thought it was Daniel being difficult again. Causing trouble the way he always did. ’ I take a deep breath. ‘But then his arm started to “accidentally” brush mine. We had these long conversations, late at night. And one evening, when we went down to the stables to feed Merlin, he kissed me. ’

I close my eyes. Even now I can remember that kiss. It was like no other. Never, ever, have I been kissed like that. The knowledge that it was wrong only added to the excitement. That’s right, I wanted him to. Deep down, I realized I’d always wanted him to do this. That I’d been jealous of that other girl he was said to have slept with. But when I finally drew away, I was overcome with shame.

‘It’s all right, ’ Daniel said, his breath heavy and his voice thick. ‘We’re not related. We can do what we want. ’

But it wasn’t all right. And we knew it. Before long, the kissing grew more adventurous. Even as I speak, I can still recall the illicit thrill.

Mum began to notice something. ‘I might have got this wrong, ’ she said, her cheeks burning. ‘But do be careful, won’t you? Daniel might not be your blood brother. But don’t forget he’s your adopted brother. ’

I was mortified. Sickened by myself. So I did what a lot of people do when they are accused of something. I threw it back. ‘How can you think such filthy thoughts? ’ I yelled.

Mum went beetroot, but she held her ground. ‘Are you sure you’re telling me the truth about Daniel? ’

‘Of course I’m sure. How can you be so disgusting? ’

Her words scared me. By then I had turned eighteen. Daniel was seventeen. We hadn’t ‘done it’, as my school friends called it. But we were close. Perilously close.

At times, my love for Daniel was so overwhelming that I could barely breathe when I sat opposite him at breakfast. Yet at other times, I could barely stand to be in the same room as him. Both feelings that I was to have later, towards Joe.

And that’s the nub of it, you see. Because of Daniel, I was unable to feel attracted to a man unless it was wrong. That’s why I was so drawn to Joe. And that’s why my honeymoon had been a disaster. Why I always found it difficult with Ed.

‘Then, ’ I continue falteringly, ‘the same boy from school asked me out again. (I’d explained there’d been a misunderstanding over the previous date. ) This time, I wouldn’t let Daniel stop me. It was my way to break free. ’

I close my eyes again, shutting out my bedroom with its posters on the wall; the desk with my homework littered over it; my brother with his furious eyes as he took in the clingy top I had put on for the date. A glittery silver one (which I’d saved up for) that showed my curves…

‘You don’t have to tell me, ’ says Ross, sensing my distress.

‘I need to. ’

So I make myself describe how Daniel went mad. How jealous he was of this boy. How he said I’d never be able to stop doing what he and I had been doing. How he called me terrible names.

Whore.

Slut.

Fatty.

That no one else would ever want me.

And how I then said those fateful words.

I wish you had never been born.

Daniel went very quiet then. Just stared at me for what seemed like ages and then left the room. Dabbing on foundation to cover my tears, I flew down the stairs.

I stop. Compose myself before I continue with the final part of the story.

On my way out, Mum caught me. ‘You look nice, ’ she said, casting an eye over my top. ‘But you’ll need your coat. It’s cold outside. ’

I’d been so desperate to leave that I’d forgotten. Now I grabbed it from the rack.

Her voice quivered. ‘Are you going out with Daniel? ’

‘No. ’ I spat the word at her, flushing hotly as though I was telling a lie. ‘I’m meeting someone else. ’

Her colour was as high as mine. ‘Promise? ’ she said.

‘Of course I promise. Daniel’s… he’s somewhere else. ’

This is the difficult bit. The bit which is so hard to say that the words choke my throat. But I have to. I’ve reached the end of the road. If I don’t do it now, I will never be able to do it.

Ross is holding my hand. I take a deep breath.

‘When I came back – early as it happens, as the date hadn’t been a great success – Mum was hysterical. They’d found a note from Daniel. It just said, Gone. Did I know anything? Had he run away? That’s when it came to me. He’d have gone to our place. Our special place. ’

Ross squeezes my hand as the words stream out of my heart.

‘He was hanging in his red jacket from the stable rafters with Merlin nuzzling his feet. And do you know what was on the frozen ground? ’

Ross shakes his head.

‘My doll. My old doll. The one I used to carry everywhere with me. Amelia. He must have gone back to the house to get it from my room and write the note. And I know why. Amelia would have made him feel I was with him at the end…’

As I speak, I get a glimpse of Carla as a child, questioning me about my doll in the taxi when I’d taken her home from the hospital. ‘Do you still have her? ’ she’d asked.

‘No, ’ I’d told her. It was true.

I’d asked them to put her in Daniel’s coffin.

Grief at allowing myself to remember is now overwhelming me. It chokes my throat. Makes my breath come out in small, desperate gasps. I see my father. Sobbing. Unable to believe what his eyes showed him all too clearly. I see my mother, clasping her arms around her body and rocking back and forth on the ground, repeating the same phrase over and over: There’s got to be a mistake…

I turn to Ross. ‘Don’t you see? It was my fault. If I hadn’t gone out with that boy from school, Daniel wouldn’t have killed himself. That’s why I never allowed myself to date anyone else. Not until the millennium when my father told me it was time to move on. ’

‘When you met Ed, ’ says Ross quietly.

‘Exactly. That’s why I became a lawyer too. Not just to put the world to rights. But to put myself to rights. I wanted to make sure I never made a mistake again. ’

I stop.

‘And then, ’ prompted Ross softly.

‘Then I met Joe Thomas. ’

64 Lily

Dear Lily,

I am truly sorry for everything. I did things I should not have done. And I did not do things that they said I did. Either way, I am paying for them…

That’s right, there’s a postscript to this story.

No one knows how Carla survived. The extent of Joe Thomas’s wrath was horrific. One member of the jury had to be carried out when she saw the photographs.

One thing is sure. The Italian Girl will never look the same. Gone is the beautiful skin. Instead, it is a mass of scars. One eye will never open again. The mouth droops slightly on one side. Only the glossy dark hair remains.

Life is a long time. Especially when beauty is no longer on your side.

CRIME OF PASSION

EX-CON AND HIS LAWYER IN MURDER PUZZLE

ARTIST’S WIDOW EMBROILED IN KILLER SCANDAL

The headlines went on for days. There had to be two trials, of course. One for Joe. And one for Carla.

Luckily for her, Carla found a new white knight. Her real father. A man who had had nothing to do with Carla previously because he had a family of his own. But when his children left home and he got divorced, he hired an investigator to trace his daughter. By that point she was in Italy. He decided not to take it any further then, but he was sentimental enough to buy the portrait which his man had cleverly discovered in a small London gallery. The Italian Girl, it was called. But the accompanying paperwork had named the sitter.

Carla Cavoletti.

For a time, the portrait sufficed. But then, when he read about Carla’s first trial and heard about Francesca’s death, his conscience finally kicked in. He put up the bail money. Forced Carla’s grandfather to keep it a secret, to say it was his money.

Then, after she was convicted for assaulting me and for Ed’s murder, he had the guts to step in openly. To reveal himself. The papers had another field day.

ITALIAN GIRL’S FATHER PROMISES TO CARE FOR GRANDDAUGHTER

Glad as I was for Poppy with her little gummy smile, being looked after by family while her mother serves her time, I try not to think about any of this as I go about my daily life.

I’ve had enough of the law now. My new family counselling practice has boomed. Tom is years ahead with his mathematical skills, apparently, but still has toddler tantrums if his shoes are moved from their proper place. I have to remind myself that, according to the experts, I ought to use the word ‘melt-down’ rather than tantrum, because the latter denotes a certain wilfulness. I also have to remind myself that Tom honestly can’t help it.

But Alice, his new school friend, has helped. We all like Alice. She has similar issues to my son. She understands him. Perhaps one day they’ll be more than friends.

Meanwhile, there’s Mum and Dad, who are getting older and talking about selling the house. And Ross, of course. Ross, who has become a regular visitor to the house. Never imposing. Never pushing. But often there. Even after my confession.

Like today, when he brought me the letter from Carla. I take a deep breath and read the rest of it.

… I am writing to say that I am to get married again as soon as Rupert’s divorce is through. The wedding will be in prison, but it does not matter. Rupert does not mind that my face is different. He loves Poppy as if she was his own. (She is not. ) My solicitor says that Life does not always mean Life.

Please forgive me.

I hope you can find it in your heart to wish me happiness.

Yours,

Carla.

I put down the letter on the grass. It flaps in the wind and then blows away. I make no attempt to chase after it. It means nothing. Carla always was a good liar. Yet there’s something still nagging at me. Something isn’t quite right…

‘Chewing gum, Sellotape, scissors, sharp implements? ’

I’m back in prison. A different one from the last. And I’m not wearing my lawyer hat. I’m a visitor.

‘Hands up, please. ’

I’m being searched. Swiftly but thoroughly.

Now a dog is walking past with his handler. He pays no attention to me but sits silently next to the girl behind. She is led away. Apparently that’s how sniffer dogs work. They don’t bark or growl. They simply sit.

‘Why are you here? ’

I’m sitting when Joe Thomas comes in. He’s thinner. And somehow he looks shorter. He is looking at me stonily. I should be scared. But I’m not. There are plenty of people around us.

‘I want to know exactly what happened. ’

He sits back in his chair, tipping it, and laughs. ‘I told you. Told everyone at the trial. ’

I allow my mind to go back. To the time when Carla was convicted of assaulting me and murdering Ed. To the trial a few days later, when Joe was sent down for his assault on Carla. And for being an accessory to Ed’s murder.

Unbelievable, isn’t it?

But that’s what happened. Joe stood up in court, at Carla’s trial, and said that he had met her at Tony’s funeral (another mourner had come forward to confirm they’d been talking) and that they’d stayed in touch. Later, he swore that Carla, aware of his criminal background, had hired him as a hit man, promising payment when Ed’s life insurance came through. They’d agreed that he would come round on a certain evening. But when he had got there, she had been in a terrible state – and he had soon seen why. Carla had already stabbed Ed herself. In the thigh. Then she’d run, leaving him, Joe, to take the blame.

Carla vehemently denied this. Instinctively I felt it didn’t ring true either. I didn’t really see Carla as the type to hire a hit man.

But the prosecuting barrister was good. Very good. The persistent questioning finally made Carla break down and admit that, yes, she had plunged the knife into Ed. He’d picked it up first, she had sobbed. She thought he was going to hurt her out of jealousy over Rupert. It was self-defence. But she definitely hadn’t hired Joe as a hit man. That bit was a lie.

It didn’t wash with the new jury. The lies she’d already told made certain of that.

I’d been terrified that Joe would implicate me. But as soon as he said that about Carla hiring him, I knew he was doing it to protect me. I suppose the key should have been another clue. The one he posted back to me, inside Carla’s washing-up gloves. At the time, I thought he was encouraging me to take my revenge.

Now I wonder if he was giving me a ‘get out of jail free’ card.

Joe explained his presence at Carla’s house by saying he went there to demand his money. And that he’d found Carla hurting me.

But I know differently, of course. He’d come back because of me. Joe must have suspected I would go to see Carla after opening the envelope with the washing-up gloves inside. He wanted to make sure I was all right.

I’m painfully aware that if he’d told the truth about any of this, I’d be in prison too.

But that’s the problem with lies. As I said at the beginning, they start small. And then they multiply. Over and over again. So that the white lies become as black as the real thing. Yet his lie has saved me.

Amazingly the jury believed Joe. It helped that, on the night of Ed’s murder, there wasn’t any sign of a forced entry. So it made sense that Carla had let him in voluntarily.

Life, he got, for conspiring to murder Ed and for his assault on Carla. The same as Carla got for murdering Ed. The same as Joe should have got for poor Sarah Evans.

You could say it was justice. But I’m not so sure. That’s why I’m here.

‘I know you weren’t telling the truth. I want to know what really happened. ’

He grins. Like we’re playing a game, just as we had at the beginning when he made me work out the boiler figures.

‘Touch me. ’ His voice is so low that I barely hear it. Then he says it again. ‘Touch me and then I’ll tell you. ’

I glance around. The officers with their folded arms. Women talking urgently to their partners opposite. Couples not talking.

‘I can’t. ’

‘Look. ’ He’s staring straight at me. ‘Look to your right. ’

So I do. The woman next to me has her foot up, in between her partner’s legs.

‘I won’t do that. ’ I’m flushing. Hot.

‘Then I won’t tell you. ’

This is blackmail. Just as he’d tried to blackmail me over the DNA and the key.

I look again. The officer nearest me is making her way to the offending table. She’s not looking at us.

‘Quickly, ’ he says.

My heart starts to speed up just as it had on the seafront when Joe took my key. A wave of desire starts to seep through the lower part of my body, even though I try to crush it.

Then the stables flash into my mind. Daniel with his limp neck. Amelia, my doll, lying on the ground below my brother. And Merlin with a puzzled expression on his all-knowing, dear old face. Killed by Sarah Evans’s murderer – or as good as – in an attempt to scare me.

It’s a wake-up call. A distinct prod back to sanity.

‘No, ’ I say firmly, my feet still on the ground. ‘No. I won’t. I’m through with all these games, Joe. They’re over. ’

A brief look of disappointment shoots across his face, followed by an ‘if that’s the way you want it’ shrug.

He makes as if to stand, and then appears to change his mind.

‘OK. You’re lucky. I’m feeling generous today. I’ll still give you a clue. ’

‘I told you. ’ I almost thump the table. ‘No more games. ’

‘But this one, Lily, is in your interest. It will give you peace. Trust me. ’ His smile chills me to my bones. ‘Watch my finger. Carefully. ’

He is tracing a number on the table top. There’s an 0. And then a 5. And then, I think, a 6.

‘I don’t get it. ’ Tears are pricking my eyes. I feel sick. Visiting time is almost over. I thought I might get closure coming here, but I haven’t. Instead I’m trying to get sense out of a madman.

‘Look again. ’

0. Definitely.

5. Or so it seems.

056.

‘Five minutes, ’ barks the officer behind me.

Joe darts his eyes towards the clock. Is that a clue?

Try, I tell myself. Think about this puzzle like your son does. See it from another angle.

‘I don’t know, ’ I sob. ‘I don’t know. ’

Other inmates are beginning to look. Joe sees it too.

He’s speaking. Slowly. Quietly. Like a parent soothing a child.

‘Then I’ll tell you. It means nothing. Sometimes we see clues in things that are not there. The simple truth, Lily, is that you’re a good person, deep down. But you were weak that night. Hurt. Scared. That’s why you let me take the key. I knew that if I did something terrible using it, you’d never be able to forgive yourself. Well, now you can. So I meant it when I said that I didn’t have to use the key. That’s why I posted it back to you. ’

There’s a glimmer of hope inside me. ‘Honestly? ’

I realize for the first time that I don’t really know this man. I never did. Yes, he may look similar to Daniel. Speak like him. But he isn’t Daniel. He’s a killer. And a liar.

He grins. ‘It’s true – Carla opened the door before I could use your key. She was clearly making a run for it. ’

‘So it wasn’t my fault that Ed was murdered? ’

He shakes his head.

‘But why say you were hired as a hit man? ’

Another grin. ‘I knew I would get convicted for my assault on Carla, so I figured I might as well try to take her down with me. ’

‘But it meant you got a longer sentence, ’ I whisper.

‘Yeah. Well. ’ He shrugs. Joe looks embarrassed. ‘Let’s just call it my penultimate act of love for the woman I could never have. ’

‘Penultimate? ’ I whisper.

‘Yes. And this is the final one. ’ He leans closer. ‘Carla was convicted for killing Ed because she plunged the knife into him. Wasn’t she? ’

I nod.

‘But the knife was found on the ground. ’

I think back to the questions in court when this very point had been raised. Yes, Carla had said at last. She had knifed Ed. She couldn’t remember what had happened next. It was all such a muddle…

‘When I went round that night, Lily, the knife was still sticking in Ed’s leg. ’ Joe is speaking very slowly. Very deliberately. ‘The silly woman had just left it there. You’re not meant to pull a knife out without the right medical knowledge. Did you know that? It can cause far more damage. ’

I can hardly breathe.

‘I went back. After I saw Carla drop the gloves I returned to your house. I needed to find out if there was anything that could incriminate me. I waited outside behind a hedge for a few minutes, but no one seemed to have noticed the door being ajar. That’s the great thing about those big houses. They’re set back from the street. Perfect targets for burglars. ’

He says this so flippantly, I can barely disguise a shudder.

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