No Heaven, No Hell Page 14

  In a hushed voice, Liz brought him back to that answer, to the vivid description of his grandmother. ‘Just now, when you were telling me about your grandmother… you could have been describing Ginny.’ It seemed uncanny. It seemed perfectly natural. So why did it make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up?

  Again she had touched on something hideous. ‘You’re right,’ he confessed softly. ‘I’ve always thought Ginny inherited my grandmother’s great beauty.’ And what else, he feared? What else had been passed down?

  Liz was curious. ‘What was your grandmother’s name?’

  He took a moment to compose his thoughts before coolly answering, ‘Virginia. My grandmother’s name was Virginia.’

  ‘I can’t believe it!’ She stood up and her fury towered over him. ‘You really are a bastard! You chose her name. She was our firstborn and you so wanted to choose the name. How could you give our daughter your grandmother’s name, and not tell me? All the time… in the hospital when I held her in my arms and we said how beautiful she was… at the church when she was baptised… Our daughter was given your grandmother’s name, and I didn’t even know.’ She hit him then, punching him so hard that he reeled backwards. ‘What other secrets are you keeping from me, Jack? What else do you know that I don’t? All these years I’ve been married to a stranger.’ At first she was crying for herself, then she was crying for him. And the sadness crept through her heart like cold cruel fingers.

  Jack scraped back his chair and stood up. Unable to look her in the face he stared over at the door, then he stared at the ceiling, biting his lip until he could feel the salty taste of blood beneath his tongue. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, sweetheart,’ he murmured softly, at last bringing his troubled gaze to her pretty face. ‘You know I would cut off my arm before I’d hurt you.’

  Returning his gaze, she thought about what he had done… about the strange secret he had kept, and the even stranger reason why he had kept it. She didn’t feel satisfied with his explanation. She felt unsure. A little afraid without knowing why. And she wondered how to cope, how to accept this unexpected intrusion into their lives without too much disruption. He had a mother, and an uncle. He had a whole existence she had never suspected. Right from the first he had deceived her. He had no family, he had told her, and she had believed him, when all the time he was lying. Not only did he have a family, but they were filthy rich. He had had a grandmother too. Judging by the look in his eyes when he spoke of her, he must have adored her. Suddenly she was jealous. Insanely, stupidly jealous. This grandmother, who sounded like the mirror image of Ginny, had known Jack’s love, had seen him grow, had been there when she was not. The jealousy grew until it felt like a hard stone inside her. Damn you, Jack! How could you give your precious grandmother’s name to our firstborn without confiding in me? He was sorry, he said. He should be sorry.

  Unaware of the turmoil going on in Liz’s head, Jack waited for some sort of forgiveness. There was anger in him too. Anger because his mother had rooted him out from a safe hiding place. But she had always been able to do that. When he was small and didn’t want to be found, it was always she who found him. He loved her. He hated her. Jekyll and Hyde. He could never tell who was who.

  While he waited, Liz waited also, her fingers drumming on the tabletop, jarring his nerves, the rhythmic sound echoing in his fevered mind, louder and louder until he thought he would scream.

  When he could bear it no longer he reached out and silently closed his fingers over hers. His gaze bathed her face. Growing softer. Pleading. Her fingers were still beneath his now. Small and warm, and still. And hopelessly trapped.

  Astonished at his silent gesture, Liz made no effort to release her fingers. There was something wonderful about his long hard fingers coveting hers. His hand was warm and protective. She liked that. The quick pulse of his blood danced with hers, and she was fired to passion. He could have taken her then, any way, and she would not mind. But there was something else between them now, something she did mind. Something that had to be settled.

  ‘What about the girls?’

  ‘Later,’ he promised wearily, ‘I’ll deal with that later.’

  He lifted his hand and the cold rushed in. Liz silently chided herself for spoiling the moment. When he spoke again, she bristled.

  ‘Leave the girls to me,’ he said, ‘especially Ginny. You have a knack of getting on the bad side of her.’

  Snatching away, she retorted, ‘Oh, I see! So it’s me that’s in the wrong, is it? Sod you! How do you always manage to turn the fault on to me?’

  ‘Just leave them to me, that’s all I ask.’ He had no idea how he would tell them, or even how much. But tell them he must. There was no option.

  ‘They were on the stairs.’ She took wicked delight in telling him that.

  His face whitened. ‘When?’

  ‘Just now. They were listening… watching.’

  ‘How much do they know?’ He didn’t want them to know only half a tale. Nor did he want them imagining things.

  ‘I’m not sure. They must have heard most of what was said.’

  They were startled when Ginny’s voice intervened. ‘We heard enough to know we have another family.’ She waited until she had their attention, before continuing in accusing tones, ‘I don’t care how you fell out with your family all those years ago. It doesn’t even matter to me whether you loathed the sight of your own mother. The truth is, you had no right to deprive us of grandparents.’

  Lianne stood a little way back, half-hidden behind her sister. Her face was expressionless. Though her eyes surveyed the scene with interest, she remained silent.

  Jack stiffened. ‘Don’t tell me what rights I have where you’re concerned. You know nothing of your grandmother, and you know nothing of the circumstances that drove me away.’

  Ginny stood her ground, head high and equally scathing. ‘You lied to us. We should hate you for that.’

  Jack was out of his depth. He wanted to slap Ginny’s beautiful, hostile face. Conversely he wanted to take her in his arms and make amends for cheating them. But no! He hadn’t cheated them. He may even have saved them. Yes! That’s what he’d done. He had saved them. The day might come when they would thank him for that.

  ‘I want you to bring her back, so we can talk, all of us, as a family.’ Like a dark stranger, Ginny’s voice crept into his thoughts.

  Something snapped inside him. ‘That will never happen,’ he roared. ‘Katherine Louis will never again step foot inside this house.’ Already she had tainted it. The smell of death was everywhere. Just like before.

  ‘Then we’ll go to her.’ Defiant. Always defiant.

  He realised then, and smiled. ‘Ah! I see now what you’re really after.’ There were times when Ginny was so like his own grandmother it was unnerving.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ The eyes were deep as the darkest ocean. The mind also.

  ‘Don’t play games. You heard her say how she meant to leave me what was rightfully mine.’

  ‘I still don’t know what you’re getting at.’ She half-turned when her sister moved a little closer. The feel of Lianne so close, so nervous, was grossly irritating.

  ‘You like the idea of being wealthy, don’t you, Ginny? You think if you get close enough to your grandmother, she might leave you a sizeable chunk of her fortune?’

  This time it was Lianne who spoke. Emerging to side with her beloved sister she declared, ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have money, is there?’

  His face hardened. ‘Hmm! So now she’s got you thinking the same way.’ He gave Liz a wry little smile. ‘See what mercenary creatures we’ve bred?’ Without waiting for a reply, he strode across the room and, brushing past the girls at the door, he snapped, ‘I need some fresh air. The old crow’s left a nasty taste behind.’ Moreover, Katherine had left part of herself behind, and it was that which he feared above all else.

  The night was black and forbidding. Long, thin slivers of cold reache
d inside him, toying with his senses, making him curl into himself. He shivered aloud, shrinking his neck deeper into the collar of his coat. He couldn’t get warm. So cold. He couldn’t think straight.

  Ramming his hand into his pocket he groaned with relief when his fingers touched the hard metal keys. ‘The bakery,’ he muttered. By now everyone would have gone home. It would be silent as the grave, and warm. Hours after the ovens were turned off they still emitted a degree of warmth. Yes. He would go there, where he could get his mind in some sort of order. There was so much to think through. He felt overwhelmed by all that had happened. His mother was here and, like before, he was afraid.

  The ghost of a smile lifted his stony features as he changed direction. A cat scuttled across his path. ‘Black cat for luck,’ he noted aloud. But it would take more than a black cat to change the tide of events.

  With grim face he hurried to the door of the bakery, slid the key in the lock and let himself inside the building. The warmth struck home and he felt a little easier.

  Just for a moment he remained by the door, his ear cocked to the rafters. Silence greeted him. Then the smallest sound, like the scraping feet of a rat. Better not be rats in here, he thought, or the health authorities will have me out of business before I can turn round. He waited a minute longer, but the sound never came again. ‘It’s the old timbers moving,’ he muttered, walking towards his office. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if this place wasn’t haunted.’

  Liz couldn’t sleep. Four times she got out of bed, and each time she glanced at the clock. First it was half past eleven, then midnight. Then the third time she’d gone to the window it was four minutes past one, and now it was almost two a.m.

  ‘You bugger, Jack.’ She wondered if she’d nagged him too much – or not enough?

  She was trying desperately to give up smoking, but now the craving was too much. Going to the dresser she dug deep into the drawer, sighing aloud when her fingers touched a pack of ten. Plucking them out she searched another drawer for a lighter, lit a cigarette up and drew long and hard on it. You’re weak, she told herself. Her eyes instinctively turned towards the door. You’re weak and Jack’s a liar. Ginny’s right. You’re a bloody pathetic pair. Fine example you are to your daughters.

  She paced the floor again, angry, afraid, wanting to go after him, but not wanting to. ‘Where the hell are you, Jack?’ She blamed herself for not being sympathetic. What kind of wife are you? she demanded of herself. Your husband’s mother turns up out of the blue and all you can do is give him a hard time.

  She sat on the bed, her mind racing. Where was he? Jack wasn’t the kind to desert his family. But you never knew. Suddenly she was filled with panic, pacing the floor again. What would my life be like if Jack walked out on me? The thought brought her only despair. The trouble was, in spite of his faults, in spite of everything, she loved him.

  She stubbed out the cigarette in a pot-plant: ‘Filthy habit,’ she muttered with shame. She then sat on the edge of the bed, picked up the receiver and dialled a number, muttering, ‘Probably the only time in his life when he needed me most… and I turned on him like a mad dog.’ Pressing the phone to her ear she listened to the clicks as the number rang through, then the clear tones as it echoed out. She let it ring for a long time. No answer. ‘Damn it!’

  She paced again, and sat down again, redialled the number, and still there was no answer. She had dialled that number so many times she knew it by heart. Instinct told her there would be no answer. Either he wasn’t at the bakery as she thought, or he guessed it was her and wouldn’t answer.

  She tried once more. She imagined him there, then he was not. In her mind’s eye she saw the office with its tall cream and brown filing cabinets in the corner; the old leather-topped desk, strewn with papers and paraphernalia; a faded carpet that had seen better days; and the windows, sparkling clean. Jack had a thing about being able to see out, as though he was caged. A young lady came in twice a week and cleaned the windows. She emptied the wastepaper bins and vacuumed the faded carpet. She wasn’t pretty, thank goodness, or Liz might have been just the teeniest bit jealous.

  There was an emptiness to the ringing of the telephone, a certain echo that told her the place was empty. ‘I should have sided with you against the girls,’ she told the receiver. ‘If I don’t stand with you, who else will?’ Back came her own answer. ‘No one.’ All she had was Jack and all Jack had was her. It was obvious he wanted nothing to do with that old woman… that stranger… his mother. She shivered as though cold water had just poured down her back. With a slow, extravagant gesture she dropped the receiver into its cradle. Who was she to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do?

  The sight of the girls came into her mind then. For one awful minute she hated them both. I wish we’d never had any children, she thought forlornly. I’m sorry, Jack, but somewhere along the way I seem to have lost you.

  Unsettled, she threw herself into the chair and prepared to wait. It was no good going to bed, because she wouldn’t sleep. I’ve slept with you for too many years, she mused. When you’re not beside me, when I can’t feel the warmth of your body, I can never sleep. But she was tired, so very tired. It wasn’t long before she closed her eyes and drifted into a shallow, restless slumber.

  In her room, Ginny sat on the floor, cross-legged, with her outstretched hands resting on her knees. Her eyes were closed. There was a serenity about her face that fascinated Lianne, who was lying on the bed face down with her legs bent into the air.

  ‘Ginny?’ Her voice was tremulous. Unnerved and restless after the events of the evening she needed her sister’s company. ‘Ginny? Please, Ginny, don’t go to sleep.’

  Slowly, Ginny opened one eye, a dark seeing thing that gave no comfort to the watching girl. ‘Be quiet.’ The voice was soft, curiously invasive. The eye closed, and all was silent.

  Lianne had a knack of reading her sister’s mind. She read it now. ‘No, Ginny. I don’t want you to kill her.’

  The one eye opened. ‘Kill who?’

  ‘You know who.’

  The eye closed.

  ‘You won’t kill her, will you?’

  The eye opened. ‘Go to your own room.’

  ‘I’m afraid to.’

  A low wicked laugh. ‘You’re always afraid.’

  ‘It’s you that makes me afraid.’

  ‘Stop talking.’

  The eye closed. Muscles stiffened. Hard and unyielding. The mind also.

  For what seemed a lifetime, Lianne lay on the bed, very still, powerless to speak yet wanting to scream; powerless to move, yet wanting to run. Ginny was in one of those strange, frightening moods. When she was like this there was no reaching her. Still fascinated in spite of herself, Lianne lay motionless, her face turned towards Ginny. There was something uniquely compelling about that ramrod-straight figure, with its perfect, uplifted face. Even though the eyes were closed, they saw. They saw everything.

  After a while, Lianne’s tired eyes rolled upwards towards the small carriage-clock on the dresser. It was almost two a.m. Sleep threatened to engulf her. But she mustn’t sleep. This was Ginny’s bed.

  Keeping a watchful eye on Ginny, she waited. It could be a minute or it could be an hour. No matter. She would wait. She had waited many times before. Eventually, Ginny would visibly relax the stiff posture. She would stretch her arms high above her head and sigh. She would smile that bewitching smile, and everything would be all right. It was always all right when Ginny smiled.

  She settled into the bedspread. Comfortable now. But so tired.

  The eye opened. It turned its dark light towards the bed and smiled. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ the voice whispered. ‘I’ll let you sleep peacefully.’

  Silently now, Ginny rose from her disciplined position and went on soft footsteps out of the room. Carefully, she turned the doorknob and shut the door behind her.

  Pausing outside her mother’s room, she pressed her ear to the door. She had heard her mother pacing the room,
but now all was silent. Satisfied, she continued downstairs where, lingering only to put on her outdoor clothes, she took a moment to recall snippets of a conversation: ‘Leighton Buzzard. Wayside Inn.’ A long, satisfied sigh. ‘Grandmother.’

  As she went into the night, the purpose of her journey made her smile. Her smile was incredibly beautiful.

  When the knock came on the bedroom door, it was Maureen who opened it. ‘I’m sorry it’s so late,’ she told the bleary-eyed clerk. ‘It’s just that we can’t sleep and, what with one thing and another, sure we’ve had little to eat all day.’

  The clerk was a little man with a big headache. He had a family of four and a pitiful wage. He hated rich privileged folk, and he didn’t take kindly to being summoned by two ageing biddies at this hour of the morning. ‘It’s no trouble at all, ma’am,’ he lied. Swallowing his resentment he placed the tray on the table between the armchairs. ‘Enjoy your snack,’ he said, backing away.

  ‘We won’t disturb ye again,’ Maureen promised, discreetly pressing a five-pound note into his hand.

  ‘That’s very generous. Thank you.’ Just for a minute, he hated himself for hating them. ‘If you need anything else, just ring.’ Stuffing the note into his trouser pocket he hastily retreated.

  Katherine looked very gracious. Swathed in a cream silk robe she was seated in the tall-backed wicker chair. Her long silver hair was brushed smooth, and her hands shook as she stroked one against the other. ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ she apologised. ‘It was wrong of me to wake you.’

  Maureen rebuked her. ‘Aren’t we friends?’

  ‘We are.’

  ‘Then what are friends for?’

  ‘All the same, you were deep asleep when I came in just now.’

  Chuckling, Maureen warned, ‘Yer very fortunate I didn’t lash out when I saw ye standing by me bed, though.’ She chuckled. ‘Sure, I’d forgotten we each had a key to that door.’ Glancing at the door which linked the two rooms, she explained, ‘I fell asleep after watching that late-night ghost film, and suddenly I’m woke by a figure with long silver hair and a sorry white face, standing by me bed and whispering in me ear.’ She blew out her cheeks and rolled her eyes to heaven. ‘Lord preserve us, I almost knocked ye from one end of the room to the other. Be Jaysus, ye gave me a bloody fright, so ye did!’