Close My Eyes (39 page)

‘But I wouldn’t get to be his mother?’ I spit the words out.

‘I thought, back then, that you and I could have another baby,’ Art says. ‘I always thought that. I didn’t imagine for a second that you wouldn’t be pregnant again
within months.’

‘But I wasn’t Art, was I?’ Pain twists inside me. ‘I didn’t get pregnant again. I didn’t get to be a mother. Anyway, how did you know this woman of yours
– that you were so prepared to give everything to – wouldn’t demand the next baby or the one after that?’

‘It was atonement,’ Art says. ‘I owed her. One baby was the payment.’

‘You’re not making any sense. Payment for
what
?’ I take out my phone. ‘If
you
won’t do it, then
I’m
calling the police.’

‘Please don’t, Gen. Please think about what I’m saying. If you do that, you won’t ever see Ed again.’

I hesitate, my hand over the keypad on my phone. ‘That’s rubbish. I know where he lives . . . where he goes to school . . .’

‘She’ll take him away. She’ll stop you,’ Art insists. ‘Look, she and I just argued about it. I said I would try and get you to back off. That if you did,
there’d be no need to . . . to take things any further.’

‘And what did
she
say?’ The words fly furiously out of me.

‘She didn’t say anything for sure, but I can persuade her to leave you alone. It can end here, if you’ll just back away.’

‘And if I don’t, she’s going to kill me?’

‘I honestly think that she might. Before, when you started snooping around, I thought I could handle her but now, after O’Donnell . . .
Please
, Gen, Ed is okay. He’s
looked after. He has a stable life. He’s not being abused or unloved. I visit him when I can. Just let it go.’

‘Are you listening to what you’re asking?’ My voice rises, tears choking me. ‘You’re asking me to forget he’s my son . . . to walk away. It’s
impossible.’

‘It’s the only way you’ll be safe. If you let all this go everything can carry on as before. I’m in this brilliant position with work. I’m advising the Prime
Minister on policy and he’s listening. I’m in his inner circle, Gen . . .’

‘What’s your work got to do with this?’ I say, disgusted. Is this woman somehow connected with Loxley Benson and Art’s government contract? My mind flashes immediately to
vivacious Sandrine. ‘It
is
her,’ I insist. ‘Sandrine. She came to our party with her hus—’

‘No.’ Art shakes his head. ‘I didn’t mean . . . my work itself doesn’t have anything to do with this, but there are reasons . . . I won’t be able to work if
you carry on pushing this . . .’

‘I’m not pushing anything. And I don’t care about your bloody work. I’ve just found out that—’

‘You have to go away. Back home or . . . maybe even somewhere abroad. Just for a while, so I can calm things down.’

‘You’re mad.’ I press the ‘9’ on my keypad once. ‘I’m calling the police.’

‘Let Lorcan help you get away,’ Art says.

My finger stops, poised over the ‘9’. ‘Lorcan?’ I look up, my heart thudding.

‘I know you’ve been with him,’ Art growls. ‘I know he’s helped you already, so let him help you get out of the country.’ His expression grows fiercer.
‘Though that’s all you should let him do, he’s not good enough for you any other way.’

‘Why? Because of him sleeping with a client’s wife?’ I snap. ‘I know the truth about that now, Art. It was you who slept with her.’

Art’s face reddens. ‘That was a long time ago,’ he says.

‘That was a lie.
Another
lie. Jesus, Art, I don’t know who you are any more.’

There’s a long pause.

‘Whatever happened in the past, Lorcan still isn’t good enough. Christ, I can’t bear the thought of you with
anyone
else.’ He curls his lip. ‘Especially
not him. But what matters now is you getting away from here. Just for a couple of weeks . . . long enough to prove you’ve stopped coming after Ed. Please, Gen, because unless you leave right
now, I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe. Or Lorcan for that matter.’

I hesitate. ‘You mean she might hurt him too?’

Art nods. ‘Lorcan’s in danger as long as he knows things . . . as long as he’s helping you come after Ed.’

I have no idea how much of what Art is telling me is the truth, but I can’t take the risk of Lorcan getting hurt. Suppose she’s already got to him somehow? I cancel the half-dialled
999 call and scroll to
Contacts
.

Keeping my eyes on Art, I find Lorcan’s name and press
Call
. He answers on the first ring.

‘Gen? I was just about to call you. Are you at the police station yet?’

‘Lorcan? Are you all right?’

Art backs away. ‘Go,’ he whispers. ‘Be safe.’

I press the phone to my ear but my eyes are on Art.

‘What is it?’ Lorcan says. ‘Don’t they believe you?’

‘Are you really okay?’ As I speak, the rain starts again – a light drizzle.

Art squints up at the sky and turns away.

‘I’m fine.’ Lorcan’s voice is full of concern. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Are you still at the house?’

Art vanishes behind a tree. I move sideways, trying to keep him in view, but I can’t see him.

‘Yes,’ Lorcan says. ‘There’s no sign of the boy or the nanny.’

‘Okay.’ I walk to the edge of the trees, but Art has gone, presumably through the lock-up and out onto the road. ‘Bernard called me,’ I explain. ‘He followed Art to
Shepton earlier. He said he’d seen Art and a blonde woman so I came to meet him but Art was here—’

‘Art?’ Lorcan’s voice rises. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, he admitted everything but, oh, Lorcan. It’s Bernard.’ As I walk towards the lock-up, the body comes into view. I stop, feeling sick.

‘What about Bernard?’

‘She killed him. Art said the woman he’s with murdered him.’

Lorcan sucks in his breath. ‘Where exactly are you?’

I give the address. ‘It’s just a few minutes away from where you are right now. I’m going to call the police.’

‘No,’ Lorcan insists. ‘Not now. Art and this woman could come back any second.’

‘No, that doesn’t make sense. Art said it was the
woman
who killed Bernard. And she isn’t here any more. Plus Art wants me to leave. He said everything would be okay
if I backed off . . . went away for a bit. But I can’t leave Ed.’

‘Listen to me, Gen.’ Lorcan’s voice is strained with emotion. ‘Think about it logically. If Art came to warn you off, then he and this woman are going to wait to see
whether you take the warning, aren’t they? They’re not going to abandon everything and vanish with your son until they absolutely know they have to. Art has
far
too much to
lose. He’s not going to leave Loxley Benson behind unless he thinks there’s no other choice. So the first thing you need to do is get out of there.’

‘Okay.’ I start retracing my steps towards Bernard’s body and the lock-up entrance. ‘You need to be careful too.’

‘I can look after myself,’ Lorcan says. ‘Just get out of there.’

‘If he’d wanted to kill me I’d already be dead. He just wants me to walk away.’

‘Then
walk away
. Please, Gen, I’m begging you. I’m starting the car now. I’ll be there soon.’

‘What about Ed?’

‘We can come straight back here. You just said it’s only a few minutes away.’

‘Okay.’ As I end the call, I reach Bernard’s body. His phone must still be here, where I dropped it when Art startled me earlier. Maybe there will be useful information stored
inside it. Bracing myself, I look down. But the phone is nowhere to be seen.

I shiver. Lorcan’s right. Art could be hiding nearby, watching to see what I do.

I’m still holding my own phone in my hand. ‘Okay,’ I say loudly into my mobile. ‘No police. I’ll see you soon.’

Somehow I make myself walk back through the dark of the lock-up and out the other side. The world is carrying on as normal. A lone car speeds past. The sun has come out and is warming my back
through my jacket but my hair is horribly wet and my jeans are clinging damply to my legs.

Two minutes later, Lorcan speeds round the corner. He screeches to a halt, keeping the engine running as I get in. As we roar away, I put the heating on. We drive back to the house. We’ve
only been away a few minutes but I’m still overwhelmed with relief when I see the large car still parked just inside the gates. I strain my eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ed at one of the
windows, but there’s no sign.

‘This house backs onto others,’ Lorcan says, parking a few metres along the road. ‘I don’t think there’s a way out to the woods. Anyone leaving would have to go
through the gates.’

I sit back and go over what Art told me. It comes down to this: he wants me to act as if nothing has happened. He wants me to go home and pick up the pieces of our life together – or leave
him and start again, on my own or with Lorcan.

‘How can Art just believe I’ll walk away?’ I ask.

‘From what you say, he sounds desperate, like he’s been backed into a corner by something.’

‘Or someone.’

I close my eyes. Why does this woman to whom Art has given our child have such power over him? What did he mean when he said it was
atonement
?

Lorcan and I talk some more. I have no idea what we should do next. Part of me wants to break into the house and take Ed. Now.

And yet I know that isn’t the right thing to do. If we attempt to remove Ed from his house by force, we will inevitably frighten him. Plus, if even half of Art’s warnings are true,
then by forcing the issue, I will be putting myself – and Ed, and Lorcan – in severe danger.

‘You know, we could just dial 999,’ Lorcan suggests. ‘You could just report Bernard O’Donnell’s body . . . tell the police what Art told you . . .’

‘Then the police will start swarming all over that lock-up and Art will know I went to them and he’ll take Ed away and
she
will have me “taken care of” before I
can give evidence.’

I peer along the road, towards Art’s house.
Her
house.

‘Who the hell is she, Lorcan?’

He shakes his head. ‘Did Bernard say what she looked like?’

‘He said she was slim and blonde. It sounds like Charlotte West, but Art denied she had anything to do with it.’

‘Of course he denied it,’ Lorcan says.

I take a deep breath. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘It’s time to go to the police, like you said. We need to tell them everything
and
we need to make sure Art thinks I’m
being reasonable and doing what he asked.’

‘How are we going to do both those things?’ Lorcan asks.

To answer, I pick up my phone and scroll to Art’s mobile number. He’s there on the first ring.

‘Gen, are you all right?’ He’s whispering. I’m suddenly certain he’s with
her
again. I strain my ears, hoping to catch a sound of her voice, but
there’s no background noise at all, as if Art is speaking in a vacuum. Then I hear a door shutting in the distance.

Fury grips me. A fist inside my guts.

‘Meet me again, Art,’ I say, trying to keep my voice soft. I glance sideways at Lorcan. He’s raising his eyebrows. ‘Meet me in that pub along the road . . . the Dog and
Duck it was called. Meet me and let’s talk it through. I won’t ask about her again. It’s . . . it’s just that I don’t understand this, Art. I know you want me to walk
away, but I can’t go without understanding this better.’

There’s a long pause. At last Art speaks.

‘Okay,’ he says. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘Make it fifteen,’ I say. ‘I need time to get away from Lorcan. I don’t want him to know I’m seeing you.’

Another long pause. ‘Okay,’ Art says finally. ‘But hurry.’

We ring off and I turn to Lorcan, still sitting beside me. Outside the skies are clouding over again. The light is fading from the day.

‘That is a
seriously
bad idea.’ Lorcan sounds incredulous. ‘You can’t—’

‘I’m not really going to meet him. I just wanted to make sure he thinks there’s a chance I’ll back off . . . I don’t want him to panic and . . . and Ed get taken
away.’

Lorcan glances across to the house. ‘So he thinks you’re doing what you’ve been told, while in reality we go to the police? What will you say to Art when he rings asking where
you are?’

‘He won’t,’ I say. ‘Because we’re going to get the police to come with me. And they’ll arrest him and
make
him talk before he gets a chance to speak
to me again.’

‘Right,’ Lorcan says. ‘Then we’d better hurry.’ He revs the engine.

It’s hard to drive away from the house that contains my son, but I have to trust that the police will help me. Lorcan and I head for Enshott and the nearest police station. The journey
only takes ten minutes or so but, once we arrive, it’s impossible to find a parking space. The station is in the middle of a busy High Street already jam-packed with parked cars.

I check my watch. I’m supposed to meet Art at the pub in a few minutes. We can’t afford to lose any more time.

‘Drop me here,’ I say. ‘I can get the ball rolling while you find somewhere to park.’

Lorcan reluctantly agrees and lets me out of the car. I scurry along to the police station. It’s positioned to the left of a shopping centre. I have, this time, remembered my bag, and
before I go inside I check myself in my tiny pocket mirror. My hair is still damp and my make-up is smudged. I spend a few seconds fixing this as best I can. I’m determined to make the
officers I meet believe me. I need them to see that I’m as sane as they are.

The police station looks exactly how I’d expect. Concrete walls, harsh lighting, with some seats over to the left and a counter to the right. An officer stands behind the counter, speaking
softly into the phone. He glances over to let me know he’s clocked me.

I walk over and wait for him to finish.

Two uniformed woman come through the door behind him. They’re talking to each other in hushed tones. One carries a sheet of paper.

‘The call just came through. The body was found in those woods just out of Shepton Longchamp,’ says the younger of the two women who is still clutching the piece of paper.