without him.
How could he ever have known them? She would never have flown to England for this trip, never have stayed in Bulverton. This had become her life, and it would always be without him. She knew she was ceasing to grieve, that she was therefore losing him, not because he had changed but because she had: she could not prevent herself changing and moving on.
She still had no idea what she would do in her life without him, where eventually she would go, but she knew that this was the way, ultimately, that Andy would have to die.
She left the notebook open while she showered, but before she went to bed she tore out the page and crumpled it up. She threw it in the wastebin next to the door. Before she fell asleep she changed her mind again. She climbed out of bed, retrieved the page from the bin, then tore it into shreds.
CHAPTER 26
Nick Surtees stared in silent disbelief at the contract that 'had just been handed to him by Acie Jensen. What had started out as an ordinaryseeming morning in the hotel, with familiar chores lined up ahead, had been abruptly swept away by visions of virtually unlimited wealth. This cataclysmic event had occurred a few minutes earlier, during a remarkable interview with Ms Jensen inside the large van parked behind the hotel.
The contract itself was a boilerplate, but Jensen said she would let him have this copy so he could familiarize himself with the wording ahead of time. She seemed to assume Nick would want to retain an attorney. There was a blank fine on page 17, where the amount of money he would be paid would be inscribed when the deal was agreed. Ms Jensen had until now appeared to Nick to be a dissatisfied guest, but this morning she had been amiable and relaxed and seemed even to take pleasure in the amounts of money being bandied around. At one point she had drawn Nick's attention to how large the space in the contract was, to accommodate the generous sums available.
The contract itself was a mass of impenetrable legalese, finely printed compact text which filled more than thirty large sheets of paper.
The first page was a summary. This was written in relatively straightforward language, and outlined the intent and effect of the agreement. For most people offered the contract, it was obviously assumed that this would be the
only page they would read. lt explained that in return for payment for full disclosure of
'relevant memorative information' as held by the licensor, the GunHo Corporation of Taipei, Republic of China, the licensee, would have complete and unlimited rights of 'electronic creation, adaptation, development, retrieval and replay'.
Significantly, the most prominent passage occupied the bottom third of the page. lt was printed in large characters and was enclosed in a thick red border. lt said:
Nick was in a state of mild shock: everything in his life was now centred on those thirtyodd pages of closely printed words. The prospect of suddenly receiving a substantial fortune had the capacity to change a life for ever. It was impossible to pretend away such a sum of money; it couldn't be ignored. No matter what, things were about to change.
For Nick, money had always been something that came in and went out at more or less the same rate, leaving him never rich, never poor, but more the latter than the former. Now, within the last thirty minutes, he had been told that he was on the point of becoming a rich man. Seriously rich. For the rest of his life.
There was no hurry: Acie Jensen had advised him to take his time, to read the contract carefully.
This must be how it felt to win a lottery. Or to be left a fortune by a relative you hardly knew.
Possibilities opened up in all directions, dominated by the petty concerns of the immediate present. In the short term he knew he could at last settle hi ' s bills, pay off his overdraft (a strenuously worded demand from the bank had arrived only that morning), clear his creditcard debts. Then the luxuries would become instantly available: a new car, a new house, new clothes, a long holiday. And still there would be millions left over. Investments, dividends, property, endless financial freedom ...
Nick had come up to the bedroom alone, closing the door behind him. His first instinct had been to rejoice, to find Amy and grab her, dance down the street with her and share the incredible news with her. But an inner darkness had loomed.
lt was not that he wanted to keep the money to himself, but within the first few moments he knew that it signalled the end of his relationship with Amy. The windfall was his ticket out of Bulverton, away from the hotel, and inevitably away from Amy. They were held together only by pressure of past events.
The money transformed everything, and it would release them both, a violent throwing open of the gates. He was trying to cope with an onrush of thoughts: it wasn't the money, because he could and would give half of it to her and still be wealthy beyond his dreams, but its impact on them both.
He felt a tremendous dread and misery rise within him, but not predominating, somewhere out on the edge of his consciousness. lt had to be confronted, though, because it was rushing towards the centre. This windfall had come too
suddenly: where he and Amy were headed was no secret to either of them, but he didn't want it precipitated by a sleazy get-rich deal. Which was exactly what this was.
He went down to the bar and poured himself a large Scotch. There was no sign of Amy, who earlier had been working in the kitchen. He returned quietly to the privacy of the bedroom.
He felt he was going mad: his thoughts were whirling around. Plans, relief, excitement, guilt, dreams, freedom, places to go and things to buy and ambitions at last to fulfil. Then the darker side: a raging guilt
