StillWaters:Book4oftheSophieGreenMysteries (16 page)

Her mother must have been stunning.

She saw me and came over, tugging her huge solid suitcase. “Who are you?”

Not, “Are you Sophie?” Smart kid.

“I’m Sophie. Are you Rachel?”

She nodded. “Do you have ID?”

Definitely Harvey’s kid. The same brand of butter-wouldn’t-even-pass-my-lips and by-the-way-I-could-kill-you. Scary.

I dug out my driving licence. I didn’t want to risk showing her my proper ID. There was no telling who she might accidentally inform.

Or maybe not accidentally. Harvey could have her working for the CIA for all I knew. The guy was full of secrets.

“Okay,” she said. “So do you have a car?”

“In the car park.”

Rachel set off, leaving me with her suitcase, and I remembered my mother telling me to never fall for a pretty face.

Like that advice ever sunk in.

I grabbed her suitcase, which had to weigh roughly the same as me, and trotted after her.

“Did you have a good flight?”

“It was lousy. I nearly got lost at Amsterdam and some guy with long hair offered me a spliff.”

I nearly tripped over my trainers. “How do you know what a spliff is?”

I got a scornful look. “I’m not stupid.”

Did I say she was? I was frightened of this child.

“You didn’t take it, did you?”

“I said I wasn’t stupid.” Rachel gave me a penetrating look, her eyes like pools of dark chocolate. “Do you do drugs?”

“No! Well,” honesty forced me to add, “once someone stuck a needle in my arm and tried to OD me with heroin. But none of it went in.”

“Did you get tested?”

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I was stoned.”

“I mean for AIDS. Hepatitis?”

I glared at her. Why had I brought this up? Honesty is a dreadful habit. No wonder Karen fired me.

“Yes,” I said, “I got tested.”

“And?”

“I’m clean.” Well, that was true.

“Using dirty needles is way dangerous,” Rachel pronounced.

“Are you going to tell me to always use a condom, too?”

“Safety is important,” she said, without a trace of embarrassment. Bloody hell. When I was eight I didn’t even know what a condom was.

We were outside now and I stopped to look around and try to remember where Ted was. I hated these zoned car parks. Nightmare. I don’t know how my mum ever manages to find her little generic car amongst all the others. At least Ted stands out from the crowd.

Rachel looked him over critically.

“What?” I asked, patience a little thin.

“It’s kinda bumpy.”

“Gives him character.”

She didn’t argue with Ted’s gender, but she did ask, “Aren't you going to get him fixed?”

“And how many banks do you propose I rob to do that?”

“Daddy said you work for the government.”

“Yeah. Well. The British government is not quite the money tree a lot of people seem to think it is.” When Rachel looked at me in incomprehension, I explained, “I’m broke. Anyway. Ted got those bruises saving my life. And your dad’s.”

“How?”

As we set off I told her about the time Harvey, Luke and I had gone after someone who raced away in an Impreza. Ted, of course, being more of a cart horse to the Impreza’s cheetah, had lagged behind woefully, but we’d soon caught up when we found the Impreza abandoned for us to drive into. It had been totalled, Ted was scratched all over, Luke had several sprains and a mild concussion, and Harvey was unconscious. Still, I maintain that had we been in a smaller car, we’d all have been scrap metal.

Rachel was silent at the end of this, and I felt a little bit cooler.

I plugged in my phone headset and waved away a lecture from Rachel about the dangers of talking on my “cell” while driving.

“Harvey? Where are you?”

His line was crackly. “Eight mi—she there? Is sh—okay?”

“She’s fine. We’re in the car. Um, where exactly am I supposed to be taking her?”

But I couldn’t hear him above the bad signal. Crappy network. I asked a few more times, then gave up and ended the call.

“Was that my dad?”

“Yeah. He’s still stuck in traffic. He, uh, he didn’t say where he wants me to take you…”

I looked over at her doubtfully. “Did he tell you about Angel?”

“Duh. Why d’you think I’m here?”

“Do you want to meet her?”

For the first time, Rachel looked like a child. “Is she like you? Is she nice?”

“She’s much nicer than me,” I said honestly.

“Oh,” was all Rachel said, and she was silent for the rest of the drive.

It took about twenty minutes to get to Ugley, the village where Angel lived in her ancient chapel. Rachel looked up at it in awe.

“Why are we at Church?”

“This is where Angel lives.”

Rachel looked slightly frightened. “She’s not, like, a real angel, right?”

I laughed. “Well, sometimes I wonder. She’s human, Rachel, just like you and me. Her mother bought this place and Angel inherited it.”

“Was her mom rich?”

IC Winter had been an actress and model before her death. She’d also been phenomenally rich. As had her husband, singer/songwriter Greg Winter. And now Angel, living off their royalties, was even richer.

“She was quite well off,” I said. “I’m just going to give her a call.”

Angel sounded surprised to hear from me, although she did start by saying she could see Ted on the drive. “What are you doing here?”

I took a deep breath. “Remember how I said I didn’t want to take sides with you and Harvey?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I sort of had to do him a favour. Um, sort of a big favour. And now I don't know where to put the favour.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow at me.

“What kind of favour?” Angel asked suspiciously, her voice oddly thick.

“Do you have a cold?”

“No,” she said, though it came out as ‘doh.’

“You sound kind of blocked up…”

“I’b
fide
.”

“Okay. Well, in that case, can you come outside?”

“Why? Sophie, what’s this about?”

“I can’t really explain.”

“I’b really dot in the bood for surprises,” Angel sniffed, and I realised that she wasn’t bunged up because she had a cold, she’d been crying.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

“Dothig!”

I glanced at Rachel. “You stay here,” I said, and she nodded. “Angel, I’m coming in.”

The gargoyle above the door scanned me, and then the big, heavy oak door swung open and I saw Angel standing there in her pyjamas, despite that it was late afternoon, hugging a teddy bear and wiping her eyes.

“Sweetie, what is it?”

She burst out crying as she led me inside. “You doh how I was really bad at Harvey for dot tellig be about Rachel?”

It took a while to translate, but I nodded as I worked it out.

“Ad dow, we’ve all broked up and and everything.” She flopped down on the sofa in the middle of the nave. “Because he dever told be he was a father?”

I nodded again.

“Well.” She sniffed and wiped at her nose with her pyjama sleeve. “You’re goig to love this irody.”

“Angel, what—?”

“Odly I’b dot laughig,” she looked up at me wretchedly.

I sat down beside her. What was she talking about?

“Harvey’s goig to be a father agaid,” she wailed. “I’b pregdant!”

Chapter Nine

I was still sort of stunned when I heard the knock on the door.

“Cad you?” Angel asked, gesturing. “I’b dot…” She started sniffing again, and I jumped up before she dissolved. I’m hopeless with crying people, even when they’re my best friend.

I went to the door and checked the little security monitor Macbeth had rigged up. It was showing me Rachel, standing outside, looking bored. And cold.

I opened the door a crack. “Um. Turns out this really isn’t a good time.”

“Well, you know I’m freezing my butt off out here. Doesn’t your car have a heater?”

“Not at present.”

“Well, get it fixed! This country is freezing.”

I gave her a level look. “Rachel, what’s the weather like where you live?”

“That’s not the point. I’m really cold. And if this lady is supposed to be my step mom, then I want to—oh.”

I looked behind me to where Angel had suddenly appeared. Great.

“Um.” I looked between them. Angel was hardly bigger than Rachel, but she had proper curves, not a little girl’s straight up-and-down body, and her hair was a mass of fine gold threads that tumbled—there was no other word for it—down to her waist. What with the pink eyes and tragic expression, she had a sort of Lady of Shallot look about her. If the Lady had had some highlights.

“Rachel, this is Angel Winter. Angel, this is Rachel. Harvey’s daughter. I guess you two will sort of be step-, uh, family.”

Angel gave me a wary look, and I remembered that as of now there were no concrete plans for any marriage of any kind.

And I’d been so looking forward to wearing satin and getting drunk at the wedding. Some people can be so selfish.

Angel and Rachel were eyeing each other like they both thought the other might be a bomb.

“Hey,” Rachel said tentatively. “Are you wearing pyjamas?”

Angel looked down at herself. “I’ve been having a bit of a bad day,” she hiccupped. “I’ll go and get dressed…”

And with that she trailed away into her bedroom, which is in the altar area of the church, behind a carved wooden screen that’s worth about the same as an Aston Martin. A good one.

Rachel dumped her Britney bag on the floor and gave me a disdainful look. “What’s her deal?”

“Bad day.”

“Yeah? I’ve been through four time zones today. I had to watch the Little Mermaid for about the zillionth time on the flight ’cos it was the only thing not blocked out. What’s she done?”

A little plastic test. God. I found myself shuddering. I’d been on the Pill forever, but then, I was pretty sure Angel had been on it as well. What if
I
got pregnant? What the hell would Luke say? Or my parents? I’m an infant! And an idiot! I can’t have a baby!

I shook myself and went over to the kitchen, in the north transept, and reminded myself that having sex was prerequisite to having a baby. And I hadn’t had any of that for months. I washed my hands in the font sink and put the kettle on.

“You want a drink?” I asked Rachel.

“Got any juice?”

Juice, juice. I opened the fridge and looked around. “Orange and cranberry?”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

I made myself some strong coffee, and then some more for Angel, and then I started to worry that maybe she wasn’t allowed coffee now she was pregnant. God, this was all so stupid.

Angel turned up, dressed in jeans and a sweater that completely dwarfed her. I knew it was Harvey’s. She looked good in it, and I scowled inwardly. When I wore Luke’s clothes they more or less fit me. They didn’t make me look tiny and feminine.

I reckon it’d take the Incredible Hulk to make me look tiny and feminine.

“Feeling better?” I asked. She’d taken off her old, panda’d makeup and her face was fresh and clean. Her hair was brushed and taken back. I was hard put to say who looked younger, her or Rachel. I felt so old.

Angel nodded and smiled at Rachel. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s really nice to meet you. I was just…” she trailed her hand at the bedroom, “…having a bad day.

“Not sure I want my step mom to have bad days,” Rachel muttered.

“Well, Angel broke off the engagement,” I said, somewhat cruelly but it didn’t occur to me until later how nasty that sounded. “So unless she patches things up with your dad, she won’t be your step mom.”

Angel and Rachel eyed each other warily.

“Why’d you break it off?” Rachel asked.

“Because he lied to me.”

“About what?”

“You.”

“What’d he tell you?”

“Nothing.”

“So how’s that lying?” Rachel folded her arms, and I nearly applauded. Screw working for the CIA, this kid could run it.

Angel looked torn. “Sophie,” she turned to me for help.

“Hey.” I raised my hands. “No sides, remember?”

“But you brought her here!”

“Otherwise she’d have been alone at the airport. Harvey’s stuck on the M11,” I said, thinking that if Rachel were left alone at the airport, she’d probably have every flight running on time and the staff wearing rictored grins of happiness.

Right then someone else knocked at the door, and when neither Rachel nor Angel moved, I went over to check the monitor.

Harvey.

“This is not going to be pretty,” I said, and opened the door, walking past him.

“Sophie?” He looked amazed. “What are you doing here?”

“I brought your daughter here. Where else was I supposed to be taking her?”

“I thought your place, until I came to pick her up. I wanted to talk to Angel first…”

“Angel and Rachel already met,” I said, gesturing into the church. “You have fun now.”

I felt a little guilty, just walking out and leaving Rachel there like that in the middle of the argument.

God knows if Angel and Harvey would survive her.

But I couldn’t cope with it all. With this on top of Maria and her girlfriend, I was exhausted.

But more was to come.

On arriving home I found a text on my phone. From Luke. It said, “Call me”.

Not bloody likely. After the day I’d had? Lesbians and super-kids and pregnant friends. I didn’t need Luke in there as well.

But I got no rest. Even with my mobile silenced, he tried to ring the house phone. And then my spare, unofficial family mobile (which I guess will have to be my only mobile again, because SO17 aren’t going to be paying for my picture messages any more, are they?). And then someone rang the doorbell, so I went and hid in the kitchen.

And nearly had a heart attack, because Luke was standing there, laughing at me.

“What, you never played rosy apples?”

I narrowed my eyes. “How did you get in?”

“You should lock your back door every now and then.”

“Get. Out. Of. My. Kitchen.”

“It’s not even yours.” Luke wandered past into the hallway. I think he thought that was smart.

“What are you doing here?”

“Aren’t you pleased to see me?”