Angel's part in the murder would remain a secret. Abbie had feared the crook might need convincing to leave Alice's family, especially Angel, out of his tale. He had surprised her by agreeing straight away.
“I just want it over, even if that means prison. So long as my boy is safe, I don’t care.”
With Alice's key, Abbie let herself into the house and proceeded to the balcony. She approached but remained a metre from Alice, not wanting to startle the birthday girl when she was so close to the drop that had probably killed her second youngest daughter.
"It's sorted," said Abbie.
"Thank you," said Alice. "That can't have been easy."
Abbie shrugged. "It needed to be done. Besides, what's killing to me, these days? I've racked up a body count you would not believe."
"I'm sure you have," said Alice, not looking around. "But how many were executions? How often do you kill a person who is not actively trying to murder you or someone you seek to protect?"
Abbie couldn't answer. Raphael's death had been quick and painless. Given the story Louis was weaving, Abbie knew it was necessary to ensure none of the men with whom Pedro had crossed the ocean were seen again. Still, killing him when he was defenceless, harmless, had made Abbie sick. Every murder she found difficult. Raphael's would torment her the rest of her life.
"That's what I thought," said Alice. "So, thank you, and I'm sorry I asked you to do it."
Trying to avoid the emotional road, Abbie said, "I'll call my contact later tonight. Raphael and Max will never be found."
"Excellent," said Alice, with no feeling. "And in the morning, I can call the police?"
"Yes. I'm sorry you have to wait so long."
Alice nodded but didn't respond. It shouldn't have mattered. Whether the coast guard was mobilised now or in the morning, they had no chance of finding Ariana alive. Still, it did not sit right with Alice, leaving her daughter on the ocean floor. She would picture Ana afraid and alone, though, in truth, her daughter felt nothing at all.
In the morning, Alice would phone the police. She would explain they had partied the previous night to celebrate her sixtieth birthday. There had been plenty of booze. Come the morning, Alice learned her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend were missing. It was possible they'd gone out but unlikely. The boyfriend's car was still in the drive, and they liked to sneak onto the balcony at night. They always stood near the edge, and if they'd had a little much to drink...
If the bodies were found, there would be questions about Gray's knife wound. Alice would cross that bridge as and when it became necessary.
By then, of course, Abbie would be long gone.
"I want you to keep my number," said Alice at last. "I know you'll tell me it's against company policy, but I don't care. You saved my life tonight. Alex and Tony's too. I owe you everything. More than that, I've come to care about you. I hate the thought of you being alone."
"I appreciate that," said Alice. "I think I've mentioned that I hated my mother. You’ve no idea how much it means to hear you say you care. And I care about you too."
"But it doesn't change anything?"
Abbie took a breath, considered. "I don't know yet. I'm conflicted. This churning's started in my stomach, and I don't know if it'll ever stop. I can't stop thinking about what we discussed this morning, everything I'm missing."
At last, Alice turned from the cliff edge, smiled at Abbie.
"I won't push you," she said. "I've said everything I need to say, pretty much. All I can add is that I'm here if you ever decide it might be time to seek more. I'm here whenever you need me."
"I won't push you either," said Abbie. “Because you're right on the edge, and you'd fall into the sea."
Alice smiled, chuckled.
"I don't know how you can care," said Abbie. "Ariana's dead because of me."
"Ariana's dead because she tried to kill you and failed," said Alice. "I don't blame you for that and never will."
They smiled at each other, then Alice turned back to the sea. Abbie looked up at the house and wondered about Alex, who hadn't spoken since they'd cut her free from Louis' bed. Tony had helped her downstairs, and she'd clung to him the whole way home. Now they were in her bedroom. Tony wouldn't leave her side as long as she wanted him to stay. Alice had promised to get her daughter whatever help she needed, but Abbie knew it would be a long road to recovery.
When Abbie turned away from the house, she heard a low sob, even over the whip of the wind. Fighting her innate awkwardness, she stepped to the edge of the balcony and put her arm around Alice.
For a minute or more, they remained in silence. Then Alice said, "When Morris and I tied the knot, Angel called the union cursed. She’d heard all these stories about her father’s cruelty and had witnessed first hand Alex and Anthony’s father’s ruthless nature. That kind of behaviour she associated with strength, so she thought Morris was rich but worthless because, despite his occupation, he had a kind heart. Warned me that if I married him, had his children, we'd be cursed too."
Alice sniffed, shook her head.
"I laughed it off, and Angel warmed to Morris later. He was there for her when she fell pregnant with Ollie, and the useless dad did a runner, and he was great with my grandson. The cursed comment was long forgotten, but I remembered it when Morris died a decade ago. I remembered it when Aurora was killed. Now here we are again, and it's like the complete set. Morris and his daughters." She gave a humourless laugh. "Well, not quite the complete set. Not if you count the
