Enemy At The Window Page 16

  Chapter 46

  ‘Whoever it was who introduced matinee performances,’ cried Jody, kicking off the tight peep-toe shoes, ‘it certainly wasn’t an actor!’

  They were fifties’ originals, designed for someone with feet at least one size smaller. She sat at her cluttered dressing table and rubbed her toes.

  ‘Why do actors sweat so much?’ Gina asked, holding up a blouse stained around the collar with make-up.

  ‘It’s grease-paint, not sweat,’ rebuked Jody, talking to her reflection in the mirror. ‘And anyhow, we work like Trojans under bright lights, that’s why.’

  ‘Sounds like a cushy number to me. You should try ironing outfits all day. No standing ovations in that job and it’s just as hot.’

  ‘Poor Gina. One day, you’ll be plucked backstage by some budding director and Hollywood will realise what they’ve been missing.’

  ‘Ha bloody ha.’ Gina stopped combing Jody’s hair. ‘Seriously, for a moment. We’d better get a move on.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Steve has arranged a few drinks and nibbles backstage as a kind of tribute to Mark.’

  ‘Oh, of course.’ Jody got to her feet. ‘Did the police find out who ran him down?’

  ‘No one’s said anything. A busy street in the heart of the city – you’d think someone saw something, wouldn’t you?’

  Jody was less unconvinced. ‘It’s really hard to identify motorbike riders, especially in their helmets. You have to get the licence number. You can’t even tell if it’s a man or a woman half the time.’

  Crew and actors were already forming small groups in the gaps between gantries and stepladders. Steve, the stage manager, was directing people to a trestle table with drinks, and Nola – one of the wardrobe assistants – was handing round bowls of crisps and snacks. Nobody was saying much.

  Jody put her glass down and leant against a large black trunk, taking a moment to watch the faces of those who’d become her professional family during the past few months. She wondered how many would be on her Christmas card list in two years’ time. The theatre was strange, like that. Strangers thrown together into intense relationships within the sweaty buzz, fear and elation of performance. In a few months the show would finish and everyone would go their own ways.

  A voice from behind made Jody jump.

  ‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ she said.

  ‘We wanted to pay our respects,’ said Rick. He was accompanied by a man dressed all in black. ‘You know Stuart?’

  She nodded vaguely. ‘A prop maker, aren’t you?’ she said.

  ‘He and I go back a bit,’ said Rick with a smirk.

  Stuart offered his hand and bowed in a ridiculous fashion, giving Jody an insipid grin. His grip was not only limp, but damp.

  ‘Did you know Mark?’ she asked him.

  ‘Not really, but it’s all rather dramatic, isn’t it?’ responded Stuart. ‘Hit and run, everyone’s saying.’

  Stuart was not only dressed like an undertaker, but clearly possessed an unhealthy interest in the dead. Besides which, he had too many teeth for the size of his mouth.

  Jody discreetly wiped her hand on her jeans and looked over his shoulder, searching for the first opportunity to escape to an alternative group. Thankfully, they were joined by one of the lighting crew, who wanted to ask Stuart about a job he was working on. Jody slipped away, but was closely followed by Rick. He cornered her.

  ‘Old Danny-boy is not so squeaky clean, you know,’ he said. Jody hated the cynicism in his face, as if he knew something she didn’t and wouldn’t hesitate to use it against her.

  ‘Sorry?’ She tried to move away, but he blocked her path. Rick began to speak, but was interrupted by the director clapping his hands and asking for quiet. There followed a short speech after which they all raised their glasses to give Mark a final toast.

  ‘You like mysteries, don’t you?’ whispered Rick, once the formalities were over. ‘Well, here’s one.’ He leant towards her in a conspiratorial fashion. ‘Go to the cemetery at Barnes Bridge and find the gravestones on the left of the chapel of rest. There’s one there that’ll give you something to think about.’ He tapped the side of his nose.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She backed away from his foul-smelling breath. He’d obviously had several drinks before he’d arrived. ‘What makes you think I’m going to set off on some stupid wild goose chase?’

  ‘Because you’re intrigued; because you want to know if Mr Daniel Duke has skeletons in his closet and…’ He dipped his finger in his glass and sucked it dry, ‘because I’ve seen the way you look at him.’

  She sucked her teeth, shaking her head, impatiently.

  ‘You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you? Hook, line and sinker…’ he added.

  Rick’s weatherman smile switched on and instantly faded at the edges. She hated it. He clinked his glass against hers before she could turn away.

  Chapter 47

  It took Jody longer than she thought to drive over to Barnes Village. She left the car by the pond, with its draping willows and white picket fence, and set off across the grass. A couple of Canadian geese waddled behind her, hoping for scraps.

  It was a balmy May morning; the sun already toasting her neck as she took in the smell of hot bread wafting through the open door of a local baker. An idyllic rural scene, more remarkable for being on the fringes of the hectic city.

  The Thames opened out before her and she passed under the wrought-iron railway bridge, gazing at the glistening water as it curved away into the distance. On the way over, she’d wondered what she was going to find, but now she was here, she couldn’t help drawing the conclusion that it was simply Rick taunting her with a silly game.

  Why had she wasted her time?

  Because she was intrigued. Because she was nosy and found it hard to ignore it when someone dangled an enigmatic insinuation in front of her nose. And Rick had been right; because she had taken a fancy to Daniel – a very big fancy.

  She took a turning to the left and, checking the app on her phone, cut through side streets until she reached the gates of the burial ground. The scene looked deserted. Sombre and still.

  She followed a narrow path that led her towards the small chapel. Rick had said something about looking at the gravestones to the left of it, but she realised now that she didn’t know from which direction he would have assumed she’d approach the chapel from. If there really is something to find I could be here some time, she thought, bringing her hands to her hips and surveying the expanse of headstones.

  She decided to find the main entrance to the chapel and begin searching to the left from that position. There were rows of grey stones, interspersed by larger tombs and plinths and she started reading the ones nearest the path, though she still had no idea what she was looking for. Rick had implied that whatever she found would show Daniel had something to be ashamed of. How would she know if any of these old graves had any significance? Would it have Daniel’s surname, Duke, on it?

  Most of the stones nearest to the chapel showed dates at the end of the nineteenth century: children, wives, husbands, mothers and fathers. Surely, a grave from as far back as the 1890s was too remote to have any relevance. She moved on and the further away she went, the more recent the dates became. 1920s, 1930s. She decided to skirt the whole section and start again, working inwards from the outside path.

  The ones at the edge were from the twenty-first century and included recent mounds of earth covered in cascades of cards and dying flowers, the headstones having not yet been laid. Moving from one to the next, Jody scanned the names, but was becoming increasingly angry with herself for giving Rick’s stupid accusation the time of day. The idea of abandoning the search and returning to the village for a much-needed cup of coffee was becoming far more compelling.

  Suddenly a dog appeared, snuffling in the grass at her feet. She looked up and the distant owner, an elderly man with a walking stick, called the terrier’s name.

  ‘Sorry if he frigh
tened you,’ he shouted. Jody waved her arms to indicate that no harm had been done.

  For a moment she watched the dog as he moved from one stone to the next, sniffing and wagging his tail with complete disregard for the calls of his owner. The dog then cocked his leg and Jody moved away, her eyes temporarily resting on a nearby stone. A shiver charged up to her throat. She stopped and read the stone again, then as the terrier scuttled away, she took out her phone to take a picture.

  The stone was carved with the words: ‘In loving memory of Miles Charles Fox, beloved son and brother, who died 19th March 2011, aged nine years. May you sleep with the angels’.

  Rick’s family name was Fox, wasn’t it?

  This must be the one she was supposed to find. She presumed it must be Rick’s younger brother, but she was perplexed by what his passing could possibly have to do with Daniel. Was Rick trying to suggest that Daniel harmed the boy? Was Daniel responsible for his death?

  She straightened up and walked back to the gate. Did she need to be concerned about this? Of the two men, Daniel seemed by far the more trustworthy.

  Suddenly she wished she hadn’t come. She’d given in to her own inquisitive nature and now felt duped. Worse than that, she felt two-faced, especially given how supportive Daniel had been recently.

  And guilty.

  Really guilty about something she’d done – but she couldn’t bring herself to think about that now.

  The sun was giving her a headache and she decided to skip the coffee and head back. As she turned onto the main road, several rowing boats glided towards her along the river, but the tranquil scene passed her by. She was distracted by too many unanswered questions, the first and most important being, What on earth am I going to do next?

  Chapter 48

  Daniel left his desk at one o’clock on the dot so he wouldn’t be late. Since Jayne lived in Kew and wanted to avoid any crowds, she’d suggested a quiet spot in the gardens, so he didn’t have far to go. She’d suggested their ‘usual spot’ – the Syon House end of the main lake.

  He found her on a bench close to the water. Ducking under a branch of a deodar cedar, he stepped onto the spongy bark chippings to join her.

  ‘Hey, you,’ she said with a dreamy smile. ‘We’re watching the swans.’

  He put a selection of sandwiches and deli delights down next to her, before realising the newborn baby was suckling at her breast. He squeezed her shoulder in lieu of the big hug he’d planned on giving her and she looked up at him with warmth.

  Her cheeks were rose pink and she didn’t look the least bit exhausted. In fact, she had an aura of serenity about her, fresh and relaxed in black capri pants and a bright cerise tunic.

  ‘I’m afraid Robbie couldn’t wait for lunch.’ She stroked the top of the boy’s head as if motherhood was her natural state. ‘He’ll say hello in a minute.’

  Daniel sat down with a chuckle, but it was short-lived. Seeing Jayne like this, enchanted by her baby boy, brought back tender memories of Sophie with Ben days after he came into the world. It churned his stomach.

  ‘You okay?’ she said, reaching out for his hand.

  ‘Just brings it all back, you know? Those first weeks. The way this little bundle turns your world upside down and brings a sense of desperate love with it.’ He sniffed. ‘Sorry, that sounded a bit melodramatic.’

  ‘No. I know exactly what you mean. Life will never be the same again. I can see that. It’s like realising the rest of your life has been in black and white and suddenly there’s this thing called “colour”. It’s a new kind of love to me.’

  As usual, her unruly blonde ringlets were tied back into a ponytail. She once described her hair like the wiry stuffing in old mattresses and, unfortunately, her description was pretty much spot on.

  One of the swans ducked its head into the water, then slowly stretched out its wings.

  ‘They have wings like angels, don’t you think?’ she said. ‘Pure white and elegant.’

  He nodded, watching it. ‘Their call always reminds me of those paper party-blowers.’

  ‘You spend too much time around kids,’ she said, glancing down at the bundle in her arms and laughing.

  ‘I miss you at work,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty dreary without you.’

  ‘No one to make you a proper cup of tea?’

  He shrugged. ‘That too.’

  ‘And the trial? Is it over now?’

  He leaned back into a more comfortable position and gave her all the details.

  ‘How are you coping?’

  ‘Sophie wants a divorce. I’m not ready for that. Everything has happened so fast. I can’t get my head around it.’

  ‘She doesn’t mean it, surely?’

  He gave her a wry smile. ‘After what she did to me, anything is possible.’

  The baby stretched his arm in the air and squirmed, so she moved him over to her other breast.

  ‘You look so at ease with him. Like he’s your tenth child, or something.’

  She smiled, taking her eyes straight back to the baby.

  ‘Any news from Frank?’ he asked. ‘Has he seen sense yet?’

  ‘I don’t think there’s any chance of that. He hasn’t been to see Robbie. I think that says all I need to know about his intentions with this little one.’

  ‘Are you okay with that?’

  ‘I’d rather be on my own than with someone who doesn’t want to be there,’ she said.

  He let the words sink in. ‘You’re right,’ he replied with conviction.

  ‘In any case, I’m not alone, am I? There’s a new man in my life and he’s not going anywhere.’

  Daniel squeezed her hand again, too emotional for words. He couldn’t agree with her more. Ben was his number one priority now. Father and son would forge ahead and have a terrific future together, no matter what happened.

  Chapter 49

  ‘Bloody kids’, Rick shouted out loud, as he slammed the front door. It was gone midnight, but he was still ranting to himself.

  He kicked off his trainers. Felsham and Wiley were going to have to watch their step, because he wasn’t bloody well having another day like this one.

  Rick dropped his rucksack in the hall and poured himself a large whisky, even though he’d already got through several at the pub. No one blows out the windows in my lab and gets away with it.

  At three o’clock everything had been ticking along as normal. Kids were being unruly and insolent, but nothing worse than usual. By three fifteen, a cocktail of green goo and broken glass erupted all over the place and Rick had been forced to abandon the class and stay behind to clear it up. Where was the effing caretaker for God’s sake? Wasn’t that his job?

  Poor Jonny Piper looked like he’d lost an eyebrow. He said something about Felsham making a ‘Multi-dimensional Implodertron out of liquid nitrogen and jelly-babies’.

  Bloody lunatics.

  And all the flak would fall back on him. Should have been more vigilant, Mr Fox. Why weren’t you supervising, Mr Fox? A case of incompetence, Mr Bloody Fox! Nah. Nah. Nah.

  Then he’d have to face the head and it wouldn’t be pretty. He knew for definite now: teaching wasn’t for him.

  Chapter 50

  He scrubbed his arms with a flannel at the kitchen sink, still grubby from the afternoon’s events, and took his tumbler into the study.

  The deputy head had told him to write a report of the incident and have it on his desk first thing. He should have got home earlier.

  As Rick waited for the computer to load up, he noticed his printer was out of paper. Reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, he had to pull out the shoebox to get to the stack of A4 sheets he’d pinched from school.

  That bloody box of photos again; he should stick it someplace where he’d never have to come across it. It was too painful.

  But it was too late.

  That picture. He had to take another look at it even though it made him want to throw up.

  He sank back into the r
ickety typists’ chair and stared in horror at the fuzzy images. Definitely Dan, looking smug.

  The truth had come to him in a flash on that day in September last year. He’d recognised the neat handwriting and had known for certain that it wasn’t his. That’s when he’d realised that the photograph itself didn’t belong to him.

  At first glance it looked like there had been nothing remarkable about the party. Just a bunch of students getting plastered at the end of term. But there had been something remarkable about it – something mind-blowingly significant about the picture.

  With the same descending horror, he relived the moment when it had hit him; the crippling pain in his gut when it had all made sense. When it had all become clear.

  One simple phone call and he’d been a hundred per cent certain.

  The plan he’d put into place as a result was coming along just fine. Daniel didn’t have a clue what he was being punished for, so each new turn of the screw brought delicious fresh damage. Delectable to watch from the sidelines. If Daniel thought he’d suffered enough, he’d need to think again.

  The game was only just beginning.

  Danny-boy – get ready to pay for this one, big time!

  Chapter 51

  Sophie sat on the tarmac, leaning against the wire fence in the corner of the enclosure, holding her face up to the sun. She’d only just closed her eyes when the prison guard called out to say time was up. They were only allowed thirty minutes a day in the fresh air.

  She followed the others back inside. As the new addition to the cell, she’d been allocated the bottom bunk. That meant she had to put up with Tanya above her, who, overweight and lax when it came to personal hygiene, tossed and turned all night, often calling out expletives in her sleep. Not forgetting the never-ending cough that sounded like someone trying to start a car with a dead battery.