Resolutions (29 page)

End of the school day and he waited for Ursula to come out of her English class. ‘I've sent a text to Cheryl,' he said. ‘Told her we're both staying for an after-school thing.'

‘Oh? What kind of after-school thing? You know, in case she asks. And what are we actually going to do?'

‘Oh, a drama thing. School play. I don't know.'

‘School play. Oh, my God. George, that's about the worst excuse you could have made. You hate drama and I can't act. Cheryl knows that. She saw us in that “end of summer term” crap, remember?'

George grimaced. How could he forget? He'd only had two words to say and he'd managed to get those back to front. ‘I had to think of something,' he said. He showed her the text.

‘
Meet me at Rina's. I'm sorry, George, but I have to leave. Come to say goodbye
.'

‘She hates text speak,' he said, as though Ursula had asked.

‘You think she's really going away? I mean, just like that?'

George shook his head. ‘I don't know,' he said. ‘But she's planning something and I don't think I'm going to like it at all.'

They caught the bus to Frantham, got off at the end of the promenade close to the police station. ‘You think we should tell someone?' Ursula said.

George shook his head. ‘Tell someone what? Maybe she really means it. That she's leaving.'

‘If Mac was here, you'd tell him. Text him now, find out what he thinks.'

George hesitated, took the phone from his pocket and stared at it, then slipped it back into his pocket. ‘I've got to hear what she has to say,' he told Ursula. ‘Rina and Tim will be there; what can she do?'

‘Anything she wants,' Ursula said. She sighed. ‘OK, whatever. Let's get it over with.' She swung her backpack on to her shoulder and set off towards Peverill Lodge, George, less certain now the decision was made, trailing in her wake.

Rina had been out. Too restless to remain at home, she and Tim had been walking along the promenade and down on the beach, the bracing wind doing Rina a power of good and freezing Tim to the core. Coming back up the steps on to the promenade, they caught sight of George and Ursula walking away, just too far away to hear Rina when she called out to them, her voice snatched back by the bitter wind.

‘What are they doing here?' Tim wondered anxiously. ‘Rina, they look as though they're heading home – to our home, I mean.'

Rina nodded anxiously. ‘I don't like it, Tim. Something's wrong; I can feel it.' She set off at the closest to a run Tim had ever seen her perform, and Tim raced beside her.

She slipped the key into the front door of Peverill Lodge and called out as soon as they were inside. Karen's voice replied from the living room.

Glancing anxiously at Tim, Rina started forward.

‘We should get help,' Tim whispered, somewhat belatedly.

‘I think it's a little late for that,' Rina said. Shoulders squared, she made her way across the hall, and together they entered the living room. George was there, with Ursula beside him. They both looked shaken and confused. Eliza and Bethany were seated together on the piano stool, and Steven and Matthew sat uneasily side by side on the smaller of the two sofas. Karen held a gun. It sat comfortably in her hand as she turned to greet Rina and Tim and motioned them to sit down.

‘I told them to call Mac,' she said. ‘They say he's gone.'

‘He has,' Rina confirmed. ‘He and Miriam have gone to stay with friends.'

‘You think I believe that?'

‘It happens to be true. Karen, what do you hope to gain from doing this? From bursting into our home, from threatening innocent people?'

‘I hope to make him hurt,' Karen said simply. ‘Like I hurt when our dad took George. Like it hurt when we were all alone. I want him to feel what it was like.'

‘You think Mac doesn't know?' Rina laughed; she couldn't help herself. ‘Karen, Mac was one of the loneliest people I ever met. He didn't let you down. He did all he could and you know that full well. Your father was the one to blame, not Mac.'

‘Mac would have locked me away.'

‘Maybe so. He had a job to do. Karen, you don't want to hurt anyone. Not any of us. Put the gun down and leave. Now.'

‘If George goes with me.'

‘George doesn't want to go.'

‘George needs to go with me. I can't leave him here, not to be poisoned by all of you.'

‘Poisoned?'

‘Against me! It was always just the two of us. Me and George.'

‘And that was then. Not now, Karen. You have to let him be.'

Karen had lowered her weapon, seeming almost to forget it was in her hand, but she raised it now, pointed it straight at Rina's head.

‘I don't have to listen to you. George, go and get in the car. We're going now. And tell me, Rina, do you think it would hurt Mac enough if I were to kill you?'

‘Probably,' Rina said softly. ‘I really wouldn't know.'

She felt Tim move and motioned him to be still. ‘It's all right,' she said. ‘I'm not afraid.'

‘Well, you damn well should be.' Karen's finger tightened on the trigger. Bethany squealed in horror, and Matthew called out for Karen to stop.

George didn't think about it: he stepped between Rina and his sister.

‘George, get out of my way.'

‘No,' he said. ‘Karen, I won't get out of the way. This isn't you, this is something you've made yourself be.'

‘No,' she said. ‘This is me.'

Ursula moved cautiously, warily, to George's side and took his hand, squeezed it hard.

‘Please, Karen,' George said. ‘Just go. Do this and you'll hurt Mac, but you'll hurt me more. Karen, please.'

For what seemed like forever no one spoke, no one moved. Karen held the weapon, pointed unflinchingly at Rina's head.

‘Karen, please,' George said again. ‘I love you, Karen, but you can't do stuff like this.'

Another stretch of time: George unmoving, Rina barely daring to breath.

Karen sighed deeply. ‘Oh Georgie.' She shook her head, lowered the weapon. ‘But know this, all of you: Mac had better keep looking over his shoulder. One day, I'm going to be there.'

‘No,' George said. ‘You won't. Not if you still want me to own you as my sister. I love you, Karen. But you've got to go and you've got to let me go too.'

She said nothing, but she nodded briefly, and Rina could see the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Another lost child
, she thought, though, as far as she was concerned now, this one probably couldn't be lost enough.

Karen left, the front door slammed, and Rina collapsed into the nearest chair.

‘Are you OK?' George said. ‘I'm sorry, Rina. She sent me a message to meet her here, said she was leaving. I never thought . . .'

‘George, now hear me,' Rina said firmly. ‘None of this is your fault. Get that into your head now. None of this was caused by you.'

Karen drove fast through the little town of Frantham and out on to the main road. Tears still poured down her cheeks and she wiped them away impatiently.

‘Oh Georgie,' she said. ‘What have we done to ourselves?' She knew she could not go back to the little house she had wanted so much. She knew that soon the alarm would be raised and the police would come looking. Police and probably others too; she had no illusions about there being honour among thieves, or any other variety of criminal, and she had now outlived any usefulness she might have had.

But one thing life had taught Karen was that she should always have a fallback position. Always have her bags packed, money available, identity to exchange.

Her hire car was found in a cliff top car park the following day, but the young woman with the glossy black bobbed hair who boarded the Eurostar was a lifetime away from Karen Parker.

EPILOGUE

Mac returned to Frantham a few days later, but not to work. Internal Affairs were still investigating the killing of Thomas Peel, and Mac was still suspended. He and Miriam drove first to Rina's, to be regaled by first-hand accounts of Karen Parker's threats and Rina's bravery – not to mention the nerve of young George.

‘You sure you're all right?' Mac said.

‘I'm sure. Mac, what will happen now?'

‘I don't know,' he said honestly. ‘I imagine I'll be on suspension for a while yet, though even Wildman is having to agree that the evidence against me really isn't there.' He took her hand. ‘Do I have you or Tim to thank for that?'

‘For what?' Rina asked innocently. ‘Mac, let it go. This will all pass, and the less we talk about what should or should not have been done, the better it will be.'

He nodded. ‘I'm grateful, Rina,' he said, then added, ‘I've been thinking I might resign, but I'm not sure what else I'm cut out for.'

Matthew appeared with tea and fresh biscuits, still warm from the oven.

‘Don't rush,' Rina said. ‘In time, everything becomes clear; you just have to wait for the fog to lift.'

‘I like fog,' Miriam said. ‘Fog probably saved my life.' She took a biscuit from the plate and accepted Matthew's tea. Her hand shook and the cup rattled in the saucer, reminding Rina of that day Karen had come to call.

‘Miriam?' Mac was suddenly concerned. Miriam was crying. Gently, Matthew took the cup away and Mac wrapped his arms around her, held her while they both, finally, inevitably, broke down and wept away the fear of what might have been.

Several hundred miles to the north on another coast, Alec arrived home. The door opened before he could produce his key and Naomi smiled at him.

‘How did you know it was me?'

‘Napoleon knew. He's never wrong.' Hearing his name, the large black dog standing beside Naomi woofed happily and snuffled his nose at Alec's hand. Alec stroked the silky ears and then reached for his wife and kissed her, allowed her to lead him inside and into their warm and comfortable front room. He thought of Mac and Wildman, and the mess that others were now clearing up in the wake of Peel's death and the inquest soon to begin.

‘I've booked some holiday,' he said.

‘Oh, for when?'

‘Thought we might start this afternoon.'

She laughed. ‘How did you manage that? No, don't tell me. I'm just glad you did. Where shall we go?'

Alec collapsed on to the sofa and pulled Naomi down on to his lap. Napoleon, not to be outdone, pushed his big head against Alec's leg. ‘Stick a pin in the map,' he said. ‘As long as it's dog-friendly and a long way from Wildman and overtime and anything more complicated than sleeping late and eating too much, and nowhere near a bloody beach.

Ursula and George stood on the headland close to Hill House and gazed out across the grey ocean, watching the seagulls wheel and turn and be blown by the high, gusting wind.

‘Where do you think she is?' Ursula asked.

‘Far away,' George said. ‘I don't think I want to know.' He held tight to Ursula's hand and she moved closer to him, so close he could feel the heat of her body against his and catch the smell of ginger shampoo in her hair. He tried hard to ignore the way that made him feel: a little scared, still more exhilarated.

‘We'd better go,' she said. ‘It's getting dark. Cheryl will worry and I think we've already got in enough trouble this week.'

George laughed, thinking of the expurgated version of events they had given to their carer. Just the farewell to the sister off on her travels again. No mention of guns or threats or anything more concerning than the fact that George would miss her. ‘I guess we have,' he said and, still hand in hand, not caring now who saw or what was said, the two walked slowly back across the lawn.