‘What did you say?’
‘The same thing I said eighteen years ago. Leave. Us. Alone.’
31
Her mother didn’t say another word. She simply walked out of the kitchen and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Lucy dogged her heels, shouting, begging and pleading, but it had no effect. It was as though she didn’t exist. Her mum was blanking her and from past experience, Lucy knew she’d keep blanking her until Lucy changed her behaviour.
Sitting at the top of the stairs, listening to her running a bath, Lucy recalled the last time this had happened. She’d been fifteen and wanted to go to a party. She’d been invited by one of the seniors (who she’d had a crush on even though she was seeing Nate then) and needed something to wear. She’d been coveting a gorgeous Andrew Pax dress, red roses on a black background, short and silky with spaghetti straps, but her mum refused to buy it even though it was amazing value. And she looked stunning in it. And much older too. At least eighteen.
‘It’s too tight,’ her mother told her, mouth pursing. ‘I think the blue dress is perfect.’
‘But it’s hideous!’ Lucy was appalled. ‘I may as well wear a bin bag! I’ll be a laughing stock.’
‘It’s the blue dress or you don’t go at all.’
Lucy had gone ballistic at that point – hormones and temper getting the better of her – but her mother had simply remained silent until Lucy caved in and they’d bought the blue dress.
Her mother was the most stubborn person she knew. Lucy sighed. At least she knew where she got it from.
‘Mum?’ she called, getting up from the step. ‘I’m going to the pub. I’ll see you later.’
‘See you later,’ she called back. It was as though nothing had happened. Which is what she wanted, no doubt. For things to go back to how they’d been before. Without Dad. Just the two of them. But she was getting married next year. Shouldn’t Dad give her away? And what about when she had kids? They’d want to see their grandfather, wouldn’t they?
As she walked, she brought out her phone. Rang the number Jaya had given her for her father. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised when it gave one ring and went straight to his voicemail: the standard response when a number had been blocked. No heart-warming the caller cannot be reached to indicate he was in the air. Just one ring.
He hadn’t hung around, had he? He’d been almost unseemly in his haste to disengage with her. What had her mum said?
That wasn’t the deal, remember?
What deal? If it was the last thing she did, she decided, she’d find out what had gone on before. She had a right, goddammit. She was their child. She had to know the truth, no matter how tough it was.
The pub was packed and noisy and for a moment she was taken aback. Realising she wasn’t in the mood, she walked home, stopping at a Tesco Express to buy a couple of bottles of wine and a beef lasagne. Mum loved lasagne.
It was quiet when she let herself in. Then she heard the TV. She put her head around the door to see her mum sitting on the sofa. Tears shone on her cheeks.
‘Oh, Mum.’
Lucy dumped the shopping and went and sat next to her. She held her mother’s hand. It was cold and she rubbed it gently between her own, trying to warm it.
‘I bought lasagne.’
Her mother nodded.
‘And two bottles of that Aussie Chardonnay you like.’
Her mother squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks.’
Lucy took a breath. ‘You can understand why I did what I did, can’t you?’
A nod.
‘Is whatever happened between you two really that bad?’
Another nod.
Lucy felt an anxious lurch in her gut. ‘He’s not a paedophile or anything, is he? A rapist?’
Her mother looked at her. Her lips twitched. ‘No.’
‘Well, what is it? I mean, I know he had that affair–’
‘He lied.’
‘But that’s what cheaters do. They–’
‘He lied about who he was.’
Lucy stared. ‘What?’
‘He told me one thing, and then I discovered he was something else. Our marriage was based on nothing but a lie.’
Laughter came from the TV, raucous and loud. Lucy barely heard it.
‘What do you mean?’
Her mother looked at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and filled with pain. ‘I’ll tell you, okay? But not tonight. I have to think about how to tell you, if that makes sense. It’s complicated.’
Lucy wanted to know now, drag the story out of her straight away, but she also knew she didn’t want her mum to clam up and go back to blanking her. She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek, damp with tears. ‘Thanks, Mum.’
32
‘Get in the car.’
Dan glanced at the grey sedan that had pulled up alongside. The driver wore police uniform. His eyes were on Dan.
‘There are three of us,’ the man added. ‘Only one of you.’
Still Dan didn’t move.
‘Don’t think I won’t shoot you.’
The gun nudged hard against his spine. Dan knew he didn’t have a choice, not unless he wanted to have his spine turned into mush. He walked slowly to the rear of the car, the gun connected every step of the way. He bent down, looked inside.
‘Commissaire.’
‘Mr Forrester.’
Dan slid onto the back seat. ‘You didn’t have to use a gun.’
‘I thought it best not to take any chances. You are a difficult customer, I’ve been told.’
‘Who by?’
The policeman ignored him, instead barking an order at the driver. Immediately the car accelerated down the street.
Khatabi put out a hand. ‘Your phone, please.’
Dan handed it over. The policeman put it in his jacket pocket. Stared outside. He could have been executing an everyday chore except for the tension in his neck and jawline. Dan turned to look out of his own window, deciding to keep silent until he knew where they were going. He didn’t want to give something in his favour away.
To Dan’s dismay, they headed out of the city. The busy ochre-coloured streets fell away. Darkness had fallen
