No Heaven, No Hell Page 24

  The line of marchers seemed never-ending. ‘You’d have thought they’d have the sense to shut this street off to motorists,’ the cab-driver yelled. So far he had managed to keep his temper. After all, while the meter was ticking, he was making money, so why should he care?

  Now, though, his fare was legging it up the street and he was spitting fire. ‘You’d better run, you smart-arse, because if I ever get my hands on you, you’ll wish you’d never been born!’ He glared at Eddie as though it was his fault. ‘Son of a bitch!’ he growled menacingly. ‘Would you be a cab-driver?’

  Maureen poured a healthy measure of brandy into Cyrus’ glass. She would have stopped then, only he placed his hand over hers and held it there until his glass was half-full. ‘It helps me to think,’ he argued.

  ‘Sure yer just an old drunkard,’ she teased. Her love for Katherine’s brother was obvious. Gesturing to the ornate French clock on the mantelpiece, she remarked with disgust, ‘He’s late again.’

  Cyrus beckoned her to the window. ‘Have you seen out here?’

  She stretched her neck to see over the sill. The street below was teeming with people. ‘Peace march,’ she said. ‘Oh! That reminds me, will ye be wanting grilled fish or boiled eggs for breakfast?’

  He had long given up trying to fathom her thinking. Instead he took her as she was, and thought himself fortunate to have such a good woman. ‘Maureen, will you listen?’

  ‘I’m listening.’ She knew what was on his mind, for it was on hers also, and had been ever since Eddie Laing had contacted Cyrus last evening.

  ‘What news do you think he’ll bring?’

  She regarded him awhile, thinking how unlike his sister he was, in looks and nature. ‘If ye want him to bring news that Jack has forgiven us… that he wants to come home, then I’m afraid it’ll be bad news.’ There was no point beating about the bush.

  ‘How can you be so certain?’ There was sorrow in his voice, and a great deal of regret.

  ‘Oh, Cyrus! Will ye never face the truth?’ Seating herself in the red leather chair, she gazed at him with compassion. ‘Jack can never forget, and neither can we. I wish to God Katherine had not gone after him, but she did, and now all our lives are turned upside down.’

  He sighed, a deep long sigh that betrayed his pain. ‘One of the things I regret most of all is never having a son.’

  She smiled, remembering how dear that dream had been to him. ‘So now ye want Jack to be that son, is that it?’

  He took her hand, and held it tight. ‘You know how angry and afraid I was when Katherine said she meant to find him?’

  Her smile was understanding. ‘Sure don’t I know what a fuss ye made?’ she chided. ‘But it’s all different now. That’s what yer thinking, ain’t it? That’s what ye’ve been thinking ever since ye saw him, only ye’ve not had the heart to come right out and say it.’

  ‘I want him back. Katherine wanted him back. She was right and I was wrong. In the end love tells, and we have to follow our instincts.’ He leaned back in the chair. Since Katherine’s untimely death he had come to see things the way she saw them. ‘I put Eddie Laing back on his trail because I want to know his every move. I need to know he’s all right.’ He hesitated, his mind going back over the years. ‘I think it would be too painful if he should disappear yet again.’ He looked away. ‘Or if there should be any more tragic accidents.’

  Maureen had always been able to read his mind. ‘Yer thinking of the girl, aren’t ye?’ Jack’s daughter had been on her mind also. ‘And the swimming instructress. And Katherine.’

  In that first moment, when she’d glanced up to see Jack’s daughters seated on the stairs, Maureen had seen the same look in the girl’s eyes as she had seen in her great-grandmother’s. The same look as… No! She could not let the thought materialise. ‘Badness runs in her blood,’ she said softly.

  ‘She’s very beautiful.’

  ‘And evil?’

  He hung his head, searching for the answer. There was only one. ‘I don’t want to believe it,’ he said regretfully, ‘but yes. I’m afraid she is… evil.’

  ‘Yer also afraid she was the one who caused Katherine’s death?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yer afraid she may kill again?’

  He looked up, and his eyes were desolate. There was no need for him to answer. It was there, in his gaze, in his trembling hands.

  ‘Was it wise to tell the solicitor that Jack must inherit the bulk of Katherine’s estate?’

  ‘I’ve already told you.’ He seemed astonished that he should have to explain again. ‘You know how Katherine meant to change her will in Jack’s favour anyway.’ Wondering why she should be so concerned, he asked, ‘Are you discontented with what she left you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ She bit her lip, betraying her anxiety in that familiar way. ‘I’m deeply concerned about the letter sent to Jack by yer solicitor. That letter informs Jack that he’s Katherine’s main beneficiary. If the letter fell into the wrong hands…’

  ‘Virginia, you mean?’

  ‘Just a thought.’ Now that her point was made and he seemed to be considering it, her mind moved on. In a more jovial mood, she got out of the chair. ‘Yer man will be here in a minute, sure he will. I’ll away and make a good strong pot of coffee.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘It’ll take the smell of brandy from yer breath.’ No sooner had she finished speaking than the door bell rang. ‘There! What did I tell yer?’

  Eddie was full of apologies. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said sheepishly.

  Gesturing for him to sit down, Cyrus got straight to the point. ‘You have something to report?’

  Without hesitation, Eddie undid his briefcase and took out his dog-eared notebook. ‘It isn’t good news, I’m afraid.’

  Both men turned when Maureen muttered, ‘I knew it!’

  ‘Please, Maureen.’ Cyrus was still master in his own house. ‘Coffee, if you please.’

  While she went away in a huff, he impatiently pressed Eddie. ‘I’m waiting.’

  Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Eddie couldn’t help but recall the last time he was here, in this very room, in this very chair, talking to the late Mrs Katherine Louis about the very same man. ‘There was a fire,’ he began. ‘The house was gutted…’

  At once Cyrus was on his feet. ‘My nephew’s house?’

  Eddie nodded, his face telling a reluctant story.

  ‘How bad? Dear God, what happened? The girls? Were you told about the girls? Virginia! What about Virginia!’ He fell backwards into the settee, calling Maureen’s name as he fell.

  Maureen was not far away. In fact she was listening at the door. In a minute she was at Cyrus’ side. ‘It’s all right.’ Handing him the brandy glass, she ordered, ‘Sit still now. Let the man tell yer in his own good time.’ Seating herself on the settee beside Cyrus, she asked Eddie one question, before allowing him to continue. ‘Was anyone killed?’ Her heart stopped when Eddie nodded.

  It lifted again when he went on, ‘The dead man was a Mr Tom Wright. Apparently he was janitor at the school.’ Once the worst was out, he began to relax a little. It was always an ordeal coming into a place like this, talking to rich people like these. They enjoyed a lifestyle ordinary mortals could only ever dream about. One day though. One day he would have such a place, God willing.

  Cyrus’ voice cut through his thoughts. ‘Mr Laing!’

  Putting on his most authoritative air, he told them the whole story. Of how the fire was already raging through the house by the time help got there. He explained how a young man by the name of Dave Martin had fought his way through the flames and smoke to get to the youngest daughter. ‘Thanks to his courageous action, the young woman escaped serious injury, though the two of them did inhale a quantity of smoke and so were detained in hospital for a while.’

  He thumbed through his notebook before glancing up, his face set in a serious expression. ‘Unfortunately your nephew and his wife were not so fortunate.’

>   ‘What are you trying to say?’ Cyrus was on his feet, standing over him. ‘Out with it, man.’

  ‘I haven’t got all the details yet, but according to my source, your nephew and his wife fell from the upper level. The woman has second-degree burns to her back and legs. Your nephew suffered burns too… not so serious, but he broke both legs, amongst other serious injuries.’

  Shocked to the core, Cyrus continued to stare at him. When he felt Maureen’s hand on the back of his hand, he quietly sat beside her, wiping his hands down his face, one word on his lips: ‘Virginia.’

  ‘Will they recover?’ Maureen’s voice was incredibly calm.

  ‘I’m assured yes, they will.’

  ‘I see. And the youngest daughter? You say she escaped serious injury? With the house gutted, and her parents in hospital, where is she?’

  Eddie consulted his notes once more. ‘I have it on good authority that she’s all right. She’s staying with the Martin family.’

  ‘Have you had them checked out?’

  ‘I have. You’ll be pleased to know they’re a fine, respectable family.’

  Cyrus wanted to know about the other one. ‘The eldest daughter. Is she staying with the Martin family too?’

  Here, Eddie found himself out of his depth. He searched for a kind way to put it, but there was none. Instead, he took a newspaper cutting from the notebook and handed it to Cyrus. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He watched the two, heads together, reading the cutting, and his heart went out to them.

  When Cyrus looked up, he was a man haunted. ‘I want you to do something for me,’ he murmured. ‘I hope you will not refuse.’

  Apprehensive as to what he might be letting himself in for, Eddie was nevertheless curious. ‘I can’t agree or refuse,’ he said cautiously, ‘until I know what it is you have in mind.’

  A short time later, Eddie drove home. The streets were clear now, and the traffic was flowing as freely as it ever did in New York. Whoever said money talks was right, he mused. There wasn’t a man alive who could turn down an offer like that. The lights changed. Someone bipped a horn behind him. ‘All right! All right!’ He was in a foul mood.

  Angrily jutting one finger in the air, he surged forward, oblivious to the curses that rained down on him. Eddie was preoccupied with Cyrus Louis and his ill-fated family. ‘Jinxed, the lot of them,’ he muttered. The sooner this one was over, the easier he would sleep at night.

  Maureen watched Cyrus from the doorway.

  Leaning over the table he read the caption again and again. ‘I had hoped you were wrong,’ he said, as she came to stand over him.

  ‘I hoped so too,’ she said, ‘but I saw it in her eyes.’

  Drawing her gaze to the headlines, she read them again: ‘LOCAL COUPLE FIGHT FOR LIFE AFTER MURDER ATTEMPT. DAUGHTER COMMITTED TO ASYLUM.’

  9

  Mrs Martin had been meaning to raise the issue for days, but until this Friday morning she had not been absolutely certain. She was certain now. ‘When you’ve seen Dave off, I wonder if you and I could have a little talk, dear?’

  She always called Lianne ‘dear’. It was her way of showing affection. Lianne had been living with them for over three months now, and in spite of her earlier reservations when Dave suggested bringing her here to live, Mrs Martin had come to love her like a daughter.

  Apprehensive, Lianne promised she would be right back. ‘Woman talk, I expect,’ she told Dave as he kissed her goodbye. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.’ She knew it had been coming, and now she didn’t know how to deal with it.

  Holding her a little longer than was necessary, Dave murmured in her hair, ‘Don’t let her bully you. Her bark is worse than her bite.’ He held her at arm’s length, regarding her small face with delight. The pretty green eyes shone with health, as the smile came more readily to her features. ‘I can’t believe how much better you are,’ he remarked proudly. ‘When I first brought you to this house you were in a shocking state, thin and ill, just out of hospital and pining for your family.’ He shook his head with disbelief. ‘Oh, Lianne, I’m so lucky to have you.’

  Blushing with pleasure, she told him, ‘It’s me that’s the lucky one. I don’t know what I would have done without you.’ She brushed away a tear. ‘Your parents too. I can’t thank them enough.’

  ‘I’m glad you and Mum get on so well.’

  ‘She’s been very good to me. They both have.’

  Sensing her dilemma, he hooked his fingers under her chin and raised her face to his. ‘But you’d rather be with your own parents, is that it?’ He was mortified when she flinched at his innocent remark. ‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘I do understand.’

  Taking hold of his wrist, she raised it up and turned back bis cuff. The time on his watch was five minutes to eight. ‘You’d better hurry, or you’ll be late.’

  ‘I’d rather spend the day with you, than driving a van about the roads.’ He would rather spend the day with Lianne than do anything at all, he thought. ‘But a man has to earn a wage,’ he joked. ‘How else can he afford a honeymoon?’

  ‘I didn’t know you were planning on getting married.’ She knew very well what he had in mind. It was like a little game between them. He hinted. She pretended not to notice. It would be easy to trap him, but she didn’t want him that way. Besides, she knew something he didn’t.

  ‘I don’t tell you everything,’ he declared with a wink. Only because ‘everything’ was her. Only because without her, his life would be nothing. He was afraid if she knew how desperately he loved her, she might be frightened away. Lianne had been through so much. She was still weak and vulnerable, and he did not want to burden her.

  Lianne frowned. ‘You talk as if you’re not going on to college in September.’

  Taken aback by her remark, he brushed it aside. ‘Who knows?’ he declared with a wide grin. ‘I might prefer to be a van driver than a doctor.’

  ‘Don’t joke, Dave.’ If he didn’t fulfil his ambitions, she would always blame herself.

  ‘Who’s joking?’ he said disarmingly. Grabbing her to him, he threatened, ‘Give us a kiss, or I’ll refuse to budge. I’ll be late. The boss will get rid of me. And I won’t have any money to take you out on Saturday nights.’

  ‘That’s blackmail!’ She felt safe and warm in his arms.

  ‘Of course!’ he declared, kissing her full on the mouth.

  The kiss lasted so long it took her breath away. When he released her, they gazed into each other’s eyes and their love was stronger than ever. ‘Love you,’ she whispered.

  ‘No you don’t,’ he teased. ‘You’re just after my money.’

  ‘Get off to work.’

  ‘Oh! A bully as well, eh?’ He swung her round, leaving her gasping for breath while he jumped into the Transit. ‘See you later,’ he said, and waved all the way down the street.

  Mrs Martin turned from the window, a warm smile lighting her homely features, as Lianne came into the kitchen. ‘You two are so good together,’ she said.

  ‘We love each other,’ Lianne replied simply.

  ‘Sit down, Lianne.’ Mrs Martin gestured to one of the ladder-back chairs beside the oak table. ‘I’ve just made a fresh brew of tea. Fancy a cup?’

  It was the last thing she wanted, but she didn’t have the heart to refuse. ‘I’ll get it,’ she offered, moving across the kitchen. She could feel the older woman’s kindly eyes on her. It was a peculiar feeling.

  ‘It’s all right. You sit down, and I’ll do the honours.’

  Without further ado, Mrs Martin set the tray. She prided herself on serving tea as it should be served, not thrown together. As always, the tray was meticulously prepared: first the cups and saucers, then the sugar bowl, complete with silver-coated teaspoon. The china biscuit barrel, filled with butterdrops, and placed at just the right angle on the corner of the tray. Next the freshly filled teapot, first rinsed twice with hot water before the tea was spooned in. Finally, the kettle boiling and bubbling whil
e the water tumbled over the tea leaves. Such a fuss. Such a pleasure. With the delightful Mrs Martin chatting all the way through.

  Usually Lianne felt so comfortable in this kitchen. With its big, bright interior, pretty tiled floor and white units, it uplifted the spirit. On a day like today, with the early July sun pouring through the window, gilding the roses in the curtains, Mrs Martin’s kitchen was like an oasis in a desert. If it hadn’t been for the ordeal she knew was to come, Lianne would have felt relaxed. Instead she was like a cat on hot bricks.

  ‘You’re looking peaky, dear.’ Mrs Martin poured the tea, and pushed Lianne’s cup along the table. ‘Drink it down while it’s hot,’ she urged. ‘It’ll do you good.’

  There was a short and uncomfortable span of silence, while each sipped tea and contemplated the other. ‘Would you like a biscuit, dear?’

  Lianne shook her head. If Mrs Martin was about to throw her out, why didn’t she get on with it?

  With great deliberation Mrs Martin picked up the biscuit barrel, took out a butterdrop, placed it on a small china plate and put it in front of Lianne. ‘Just in case you feel peckish,’ she said pointedly. ‘I noticed you didn’t eat any breakfast.’

  Another span of silence, during which Lianne reluctantly sipped her tea while Mrs Martin crunched noisily on the butterdrop, each loath to raise the issue that was on both their minds. Each praying the other would speak first.

  Suddenly they were speaking together.

  ‘I’m sorry, dear…’ Mrs Martin started.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ Lianne demanded, unable to stand the suspense any longer. Red with embarrassment, she looked down at the table.

  ‘Yes, dear.’ The older woman’s voice was kindly as ever. ‘I do know,’ she said softly. ‘I would like to help, if you’ll let me.’

  Pushing the teacup away, Lianne leaned forward, wringing her hands on the table, her gaze downcast, as she murmured ashamedly, ‘I don’t know what to do.’