No Mercy Page 30

  ‘I love you, Alec Harman,’ Ellie whispered, touching his fingers with her own. ‘Home will always be where you are.’

  He gazed a while, drinking in her loveliness, the small, heart-shaped face, the hair that shone like gold, and the warm amber eyes that looked on him with so much wanting. In his heart he knew he would never need more than this woman, whom he adored. It hurt him to see the lingering sadness in her eyes, the same sadness that was echoed in him. Together, they would overcome it. Together, they could find the joy that had almost eluded them. His gaze softened. ‘You’ll never regret promising to be my wife?’ he asked.

  ‘Never. Not for as long as I live,’ she murmured. She had lost so much. So very much. And yet, she had found Alec. It was enough. His answering smile warmed her heart. Then his arms tightened about her. Here she was safe, as safe as any woman could be. She raised her lips to his. And all the bad things were gone.

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  He had seen it with his own eyes, heard the awful screams, but nobody would believe him. Is Mike Peterson losing his mind? The doctors certainly think so and Mike is confined to a psychiatric unit.

  Three years later, life has changed irrevocably for the Peterson family. The children will never forgive their father for shattering the family, his wife has built herself a successful career.

  But now Mike is coming home...

  Part 1

  August 1980

  Out of the Darkness…

  1

  ‘I’m cold.’ Inexplicably afraid, the boy shivered. ‘I want to go home.’

  Mike glanced up at the sky. Only a minute ago the sun was blazing down. Suddenly, the clouds were gathering; the air strangely chilled. There was a sense of danger all around. ‘It’s getting dark.’ He looked at his watch; it was just gone three. ‘Must be a storm on the way. Come on, son, we’d best pack up and make our way home.’

  ‘I’ll just give the ducks these leftovers.’ It was a shame to waste them and the birds seemed so hungry.

  Mike nodded. ‘Sure. But don’t be too long about it.’

  While the boy gathered the stale sandwiches, Mike packed the picnic basket, his thoughts going back over the past few days. Lately, he had been so on edge, there were times when it put a strain on his relationship with Kerry.

  The picnic had been a great idea. Kerry was right, as always. He and his son needed some time to themselves. They needed time to get to know each other. Ever since Jack had been born, Mike had devoted himself to building a successful business so he could provide for his family. It meant sacrifices. It meant working every minute God sent and, worse than that, it meant neglecting the ones he loved most. He had not realised the cost. He had not seen how it was taking over his life and swallowing everything in its wake. Now, Jack was five years old, and he hardly knew the boy.

  He looked at his son and pride filled his chest. Jack had a look of him, especially the eyes, brown and serious; right now they were gazing out across the pond, watching the ducks scurrying for the bread. Ruffling his hair, Mike reminded him, ‘Time to go, son.’

  Scrambling up, Jack looked scared. ‘Why is it so dark?’

  Strapping the picnic bag over his shoulder, Mike led him by the hand. ‘It’s just a storm. Don’t worry.’ He didn’t want to frighten him. But it was a strange sky, darker now, pressing down. Such cold, eerie silence. It was like nothing he had ever experienced.

  As they approached the car, he heard someone call his name. ‘Mike! Mike Peterson!’

  Swinging round, he saw a woman and for a moment she was just another stranger. Then, as she ran up to him, he couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Rosie! Rosie Sharman, after all these years.’

  Still slim and attractive, the years had been kind to Rosie; her long auburn hair shone, and her skin was like that of a child. But then she couldn’t be very old; when he last saw her she wasn’t much more than a child. Seeing her now, the memories flooded back – along with the guilt.

  Dropping the picnic bag he grabbed her as she ran into his arms. She felt soft and warm against him. ‘How long has it been?’ he asked, reluctantly releasing her.

  ‘Fifteen years,’ she reminded him with a grin. ‘And you don’t look a day older than you did then.’

  ‘Liar!’ Flattered, he laughed out loud. ‘I’m thirty-eight and look ninety.’ Pressure of work aged a man before his time.

  Rosie quietly observed him. ‘Rubbish,’ she said. ‘You’re as handsome as ever,’ and in a move that startled him she kissed him soundly on the mouth. ‘I recognised you straightaway,’ she said. ‘The turn of your head… the way you walk. I knew it was you.’ Her thoughts flew back over the years. As if she could ever forget! In their young, carefree days, there was a time when Mike Peterson had been her whole life.

  ‘You look well, Rosie.’ Over the years he had often wondered about her. Did she still think of him? Did she cherish the wonderful times they’d had together? Did she have a new man? Married? Children? Was she a career woman? It was always at night when he thought about her. Always after he and Kerry had made love. ‘It’s great to see you.’ She still had that uncanny way of making him feel good. ‘But what are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘Do you live around these parts?’ Life was a funny thing, he thought; after they had parted all those years ago, he was sure he would never see her again.

  Avoiding his question, she brought her attention to Jack who was shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. ‘Is this your son?’ Her voice was soft, her green eyes smiling on him. ‘Of course,’ she answered her own question. ‘Anyone can see he’s your son.’ She introduced herself. ‘I’m Rosie. What’s your name?’

  ‘Jack.’

  ‘Hello, Jack.’ She held out her hand and laughed when he hesitated. ‘I’m told I can be a bit overwhelming but I promise I don’t bite.’

  Allowing her to shake his hand, Jack remained silent.

  For a long moment she smiled into Mike’s eyes, started to say something, and then, with a proud gesture, swung away. ‘This is my son.’ Half turning, she urged a boy to come forward. ‘Luke, come and meet an old friend.’

  Mike had not noticed the boy standing behind her. Rosie had a son! It didn’t seem right somehow.

  ‘Hi, Luke.’ Mike guessed he was about fifteen. He was tall and good-looking, with brown hair and eyes of a paler shade than his mother’s.

  The skies began to rumble. ‘I reckon we’re in for a drenching,’ Mike said. ‘That’s why we packed up – just as we were enjoying our picnic. Isn’t that right, Jack?’ Smiling down on the boy, he drew him closer. Where was Rosie’s husband? he wondered.

  Rosie read his mind. ‘If you’re curious about my other half, he’s not here.’ She gave no explanation.

  ‘So you are married then?’

  Leaning forward, she said softly, ‘You didn’t think I could love you for ever, did you? Life has to go on, Mike.’

  Mortified that she should have misunderstood, Mike actually blushed. ‘I didn’t mean… I was curious, that’s all.’

  A mischievous smile put him at ease. ‘Look, Mike. Seeing as your picnic was spoiled, why don’t we all go for a drink and a bite to eat? Luke and I are in no hurry to get back.’

  He was tempted, but before agreeing he turned to Jack. ‘What do you think, son? Are you hungry?’

  A hesitant nod was all Mike needed. ‘OK. Everyone into the car.’

  As they loaded up, Rosie turned to glance at him, and the years seemed to roll away. With the memories came a sense of nervousness and, for a fleeting moment, Mike wondered if he was doing the right thing.

  Just
a few minutes away, the inn was a welcome sanctuary. The moment Mike drew into the forecourt, the heavens opened. Making a run for it, the four of them burst in through the door, shaking the rain from their clothes and laughing.

  Before directing them to the family room, the landlord took their order. ‘One coffee, a pint of lager… two lemonades, and four chicken salad sandwiches.’

  ‘Don’t forget the crisps,’ Rosie reminded him, ‘and plenty of mayonnaise on my sandwich.’ Rosie was partial to mayonnaise.

  ‘I’ll be as quick as I can with the sandwiches,’ the landlord said, ‘but what with the rain and everything, there’s been a rush on.’ He wasn’t complaining though. The more people, the bigger the orders, and the bigger the orders, the more profit. ‘Sit yourselves down. I’ll have your drinks here in no time at all.’

  Settling at a table by the window, Mike glanced out. ‘Good God! Look at that!’ The rain was lashing down, the wind so violent it was bending the trees almost to the ground. ‘It’s as well we came here, Jack,’ he said, ‘or we might have been blown off the road.’ On the other hand, it might not be wise to linger here too long. The lanes were narrow and might soon be impassable.

  The drinks arrived. Jack’s attention was on a young couple nearby. ‘Look at that,’ he exclaimed. ‘What’s that game?’

  ‘It’s called table football,’ Rosie’s son explained. ‘When they’ve finished, I’ll show you how to play if you like.’ When Jack seemed excited at the prospect, Luke grinned from ear to ear. ‘I’ll give you a head start,’ he promised. ‘We’ll play best out of three.’

  Rosie laughed. ‘You against the boy? That’s not fair. Besides, he probably won’t even be able to reach the table.’

  Jack was indignant. ‘Yes I will!’

  ‘If not, I’m sure the landlord will find him a box to stand on.’ Luke had it all worked out.

  Jack was sold on the idea. ‘Can I, Daddy? Please.’

  ‘What about your sandwiches? They’ll be here any minute.’ He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be left alone with Rosie.

  ‘I’m not hungry now.’ Jack’s appetite seemed to have disappeared.

  ‘Might as well say yes,’ Rosie laughed, ‘or we’ll get no peace.’ Unlike Mike, she yearned for the two of them to be left alone. She and Mike had unfinished business. He may have forgotten, she thought bitterly, but she hadn’t.

  Mike relented. ‘One game then, and only if that young couple finish their game before your sandwiches arrive.’

  Rosie regarded the couple. ‘Poor little buggers,’ she commented wryly. ‘By the looks of them, I’d say they were on the run.’

  Mike was intrigued. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Come on, Mike. You’ve only got to look at them. The girl is what? Fifteen, sixteen? She’s about the age I was when we first met.’ She let that sink in before going on, ‘The boy isn’t much older, and the pair of them are filthy.’ Pointing to two grubby rucksacks leaning against the table leg, she muttered, ‘Travelling light. And they’re thin as rakes. I shouldn’t be surprised if they haven’t eaten for days.’

  Mike gestured to the tray of sandwiches and drinks close by. ‘Looks to me like they’re not short of money.’

  ‘They’re probably sleeping rough at night and begging on the streets during the day.’ She laughed. ‘Some of these beggars are better off than any of us.’

  ‘What d’you reckon they’re running from?’

  Rosie shrugged. ‘Who knows? Bad parents? Violent background? They could have been abused in some way. They might even have been brought up by the authorities, and now they’ve been turned out to make their own way in life.’

  ‘If you ask me, they’re just enjoying themselves. I can’t see they’re any thinner or scruffier than other kids of that age.’ He didn’t share her obsession with the couple.

  Rosie was adamant. ‘No, Mike. They’re running from something, or somebody. All the signs are there. And look how they keep glancing towards the door – look at the eyes, how haunted they are.’ She shook her head decisively. ‘No, if you ask me, there isn’t a soul in the world who gives a monkey’s where they are, or what happens to them.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  Meeting his gaze, she said quietly, ‘Trust me, Mike. I know about these things.’

  The young couple finished their game and left the table hand in hand. The two boys rushed across the room, and Mike resigned himself to a lengthy stay. Raising his glass, he laughed nervously. ‘Well, here’s to you, Rosie.’

  Rosie looked across at Mike’s son. ‘You’ve got a good kid there, Mike.’

  Taking a gulp of his drink, Mike was quiet for a moment, before answering, ‘Yeah, he’s a good kid. Trouble is, I’m not a good father.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘I have a daughter too. Susie’s three years old. She’s a good kid also but I’m so busy working, I hardly see them.’

  ‘What about your wife?’ She had to know everything.

  ‘Kerry?’ A smile crossed his features. ‘She’s the best thing that ever happened to me – apart from the kids of course.’ Not realising how his comment had shocked and hurt her, he looked to where Jack was scrambling on to a small crate. ‘Look at that. By hook or by crook, eh?’

  Laughing, Rosie made another toast. ‘Here’s to being young and foolish.’

  ‘And not giving a sod!’

  Clinking glasses, Rosie regarded him thoughtfully. ‘We were young and foolish once,’ she said carefully, ‘and you didn’t give a sod, either.’

  Embarrassed, he looked away, pretending to concentrate on what the boys were doing, but he could feel her eyes burning on his face. Suddenly, he felt threatened.

  Swigging back the last of her drink, Rosie said sweetly, ‘I wouldn’t mind a rum and coke.’

  He stared at her. ‘I thought you didn’t drink spirits.’ After all these years, he hadn’t forgotten.

  ‘Times change.’ Her smile betrayed how pleased she was that he had remembered.

  Unsettled, he swung out of his chair. ‘Rum and coke it is then. Keep an eye on Jack for me, will you?’ When she nodded, he hurried away; thinking the sooner he got out of here the better.

  ‘The old magic is still there,’ he muttered. ‘She’s still a looker… and she still sets me trembling. But don’t flatter yourself, Mike old son. A lot of water’s gone under the bridge since you and Rosie rolled in the hay.’ His expression became grim. ‘Put it behind you,’ he told himself sternly. ‘For all your sakes.’

  Chasing from one end of the bar to the other, the landlord was at his wits’ end. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ he told Mike. ‘It’s like bedlam in here!’ In his hurry to be rid of one customer he spilled a pint of beer over him. ‘Sorry, mate,’ he said, and got a mouthful of abuse for his trouble.

  Looking over his shoulder, Mike saw that Rosie had gone to supervise the boys’ game. For a long moment he watched, wondering about her, trying to guess how she had come to be here, in this area, so far away from where they had grown up – and so close to where he had chosen to settle down.

  Feeling the need for a breath of fresh air, and realising he might not get served for some time yet, Mike went outside.

  The wind seemed to be settling and the sun was once again trying to struggle through. He walked along the side of the inn and down towards the gardens at the back.

  At first he couldn’t quite make out what the sounds were. Gruff, breathless sounds, almost like those of an animal in distress. Concerned, he looked about. The sounds were coming from the spinney. Quickly, he made his way there, peering between the trees as he went.

  The sounds got louder – behind him now. He swung round, and there, only yards away, he saw them. Spreadeagled in the undergrowth, the young couple were blissfully unaware that he could see them.

  Outstretched on the ground, her hair matted with leaves and debris, the girl’s long legs were tightly wrapped round the young man’s thighs, her arms
about his body, keeping him there, trapping him to her. The young man, body low and head high, thrust in and out of her with brutal force.

  The sounds Mike had heard were cries of pleasure, and pain. Being so close and seeing them together like this, his own heart beat faster. ‘Jesus!’ Into his mind came an image of himself and Rosie. It was almost more than he could bear.

  Much as he wanted to tear himself away, his curiosity kept him rooted to the spot. He watched them clawing at each other, and recalled how it was when you were that young. He wondered why Kerry had never given herself in the same way Rosie had; why she always seemed to hold back at the crucial point. Now, shamelessly watching these kids, he felt the need for that kind of love again.

  Filled with regrets, he hurried away and returned to a quieter bar. He remembered how it had been between himself and Rosie. She was like that girl out there in the shrubbery, exciting and demanding, insatiable. But not his Kerry. She was different.

  But he wouldn’t blame her for that. No two women were the same, thank God. Kerry was a lady, while Rosie had been a wild thing. He had been wild too, as he recalled. But that was when they were young and rebellious. Now, he was a family man, older and wiser. He had other things to occupy his mind – bills to pay, responsibilities that came with growing up. He had a beautiful wife and two adorable children. When he and Kerry made love it was always good, and he wouldn’t change her for the world.