And Justice There Is None

Neil to another.

At first, Angel sent Nina a card every few weeks, but each card came back, unopened. In January, she heard from a mutual friend that Nina had been ill with a bad cold and cough. Then, a few weeks later, the friend rang to tell her that Nina had died. She'd had pneumonia, but the prison doctors hadn't diagnosed it until too late.

Angel was still grappling with Nina's death when, a week later, she heard that Neil Byatt had found a way to hang himself in his cell. Poor, melancholy Neil, who had doted on his wife to the exclusion of all else, even his son, had not been able to go on without her.

It was then Angel realized she had two choices. She could follow Neil's example- or she could leave Karl, regardless of the consequences.

The first was beyond her courage. If she chose the second, she would have to do it now, or she would lose her resolution. She stuffed a few things in a bag, including the few bits of her father's jewelry she'd saved over the years, then walked round the flat, thinking how little imprint she'd made upon it. It was Karl's- the decor, the furniture, the art- in the end none of her contributions had mattered. She was insignificant.

Then Karl walked in, home hours earlier than expected.

Her heart plummeted. 'What are you doing here?'

'I felt like closing the shop. And I might ask you what you're doing?' His tone held the faint amusement that had come to characterize his conversations with her, as if it were unthinkable to take her seriously.

She was suddenly furious. 'I'm leaving, that's what I'm doing. Did you know that Nina and Neil are both dead?'

'Of course. Are these two things somehow connected?'

'You bloody well know they are. You sacrificed them deliberately, to save yourself, and I can't live with that- or with you- any longer.'

'You won't leave,' he said, still with a trace of a smile.

'I will. Are you going to try to stop me?'

'No. But if you go, I promise you you'll regret it. You have nothing, and no one, and you can't go a day without a fix. And I have friends, connections, everywhere. I'll know where you are.'

It was as open a threat as he ever made, and Angel felt the fear sucking at her like quicksand. 'What happened to you, Karl? There was good in you, once. And you loved me- I know you did.'

His gaze softened, as if memory touched him. Then he pinched his lips together and shook his head. 'You can't allow sentiment if you're going to get on, Angel. You know that. There's no room for weakness.'

'Isn't there?' A small spasm of pity stirred within her, but it was too late for that. If she didn't act now, she would be lost. She picked up her bag and walked out the door.

***

Having stopped at the house to leave Geordie in Kit's care, Gemma pulled the car up at the station, but hesitated before getting out. She had turned Ronald Thomas's name over to Sergeant Franks with a request to search the Notting Hill database- There was nothing more she could do on that front.

But while Melody's team had gone through the Arrowoods' house looking for Karl's will with no success, and Karl's solicitor reported having only the version Karl had given him on his marriage to Dawn, dividing his estate between his wife and his children, Gemma couldn't quite silence a nagging worry over the matter. Had it been merely some remark of Karl's that had made Dawn ring up Sean Arrowood, or had she actually seen evidence that Karl meant to cut his sons from his will?

Coming to a sudden decision, she dashed into the station and picked up the Arrowoods' keys. She would not be content until she had searched the house herself.

She began in the obvious places, those she knew Melody's team had already searched: the desk and bookshelves in Karl's study, the shelves and cubbies in his wardrobe. An hour later, tired and disheveled, she sat back on her heels in front of the wardrobe. She should give it up, finish her paperwork at the station, go home early to begin preparing the quiet New Year's Eve supper she and Duncan had planned with the boys.

The house echoed around her in the unique way of empty dwellings, every creak and shift magnified. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the house were speaking to her, then she shook her head at such an absurd fancy. Unbridled imagination, that was all it was. Still… Getting up, she moved to Dawn's closet and pulled open the doors. The clothes rustled with the draft, as if drawing breath, and the scent of Dawn's perfume drifted out, elusive and evocative.

On hands and knees, Gemma squeezed into the narrow space and pulled the storage box from beneath the bottom shelf. This time she took it out into the bedroom and removed each item, one by one. She found the paper, folded neatly into a small square, in the very bottom book, an illustrated copy of Arthur Ransome's Swallows and Amazons. It was a will, all right, signed by Karl Arrowood and duly witnessed. In it, he left his personal property to his wife, Dawn Smith Arrowood, with small provisions for his sons, Sean and Richard Arrowood. Arrowood Antiques and all its assets he gave to his son, Alexander Julian Dunn.

Gemma read the line again. Alex? Alex was Karl's son? Bloody hell!

She drew a breath, trying to piece together the sequence of events leading to Dawn's death. Had Dawn come across the will by accident? Or had she searched for it after Karl's row with Richard, trying to ascertain if he really meant to do what he'd said? Or had the row prompted her phone call to Sean, and that meeting had then led to her search for the will?

In all likelihood, she would never learn the answers to those questions. What she did know, without a doubt, was that Dawn had learned Alex was Karl's son. And then she had found that she was pregnant with Alex's child.

***

'Dawn knew?' As if his knees had suddenly dissolved, Alex collapsed onto his sofa.

'She didn't tell you?' Gemma asked.

'No! How long did she- had she- I mean-'

'You don't seem surprised to learn that Karl was your father.'

'When I saw my aunt Jane, she described the man my mother was seeing when she was pregnant with me. I wasn't absolutely sure, but now… Oh, my God…' He stood and began to pace, running his fingers through his thick hair until it stood up in hedgehog prickles. 'Poor Dawn. She must have been terrified, devastated. She'd chosen the worst person imaginable to fall in love with, the one person Karl could never forgive- and then she found she was carrying Karl's grandchild.'

'It's possible she was drawn to you because of some resemblance, some similarity. Karl saw something of himself in you, obviously, that he didn't find in his acknowledged sons.'

'It was the love of antiques. He told me once that he felt a kinship with me, because I recognized the value of beautiful things. He wanted to teach me; every time I came into the shop, he would have something new to show me.' Alex frowned. 'But if he knew I was his son, why didn't he come forward years ago?'

'Perhaps he lost track of you as a child, and it was only meeting you that triggered some spark of familiarity. He certainly had the resources to go on from there. Or it might have been his disappointment with Sean and Richard that made him search for you, and lo and behold, you were right on his doorstep.'

'But if he knew about me- and he must have, if he took my mum to see Jane while she was pregnant with me- why did he let such terrible things happen to my mum? And me, until Jane took me in.'

'I don't suppose there's any way you can know that, now,' Gemma said softly. 'But perhaps he meant to make amends. He left his business to you. I've just found the will. Dawn had hidden it among her things.'

'His business? Arrowood Antiques? You're not serious!'

'Absolutely. The document was dated in mid-October, which I believe is about the time he had a huge row with Richard.'