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Authors: Susan Lewis

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Lost Innocence (51 page)

BOOK: Lost Innocence
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‘I’m cool,’ he said.

‘So do you think this is good news, or am I getting carried away?’

‘Sounds good,’ he responded.

Still not able to gauge what he was thinking, but feeling sure it must be about his father, she said, ‘If you don’t want to pack them…’

‘It’s no problem, I’ll do it. When do you need it done by?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Sitting down at the table she put her hands over his, then started as he moved quickly away.

‘I’m going upstairs,’ he said. ‘I need to make a call.’

Watching him go down the hall, she said, ‘Have you spoken to Summer?’

To her surprise he turned round. ‘Why? Did she ring?’

‘No, I just wondered if you got back to her last week, and how she’s getting on in Italy?’

His eyes went down. ‘It’s over,’ he mumbled, and before she could say any more he took the stairs two at a time up to his room.

Alicia stood staring along the hall. That had to be an end to his bad luck, she was pleading silently. It had to be, because he couldn’t take any more – and if he couldn’t, then nor could she.

Chapter Twenty-One

Alicia had spent the last two weeks driving around the countryside with Cameron in search of million-pound houses and untapped artistic talent. More often than not Darcie and Jasper came along too, and even Nat had joined them on a couple of occasions. Having struck up quite a bond with the dog, Nat generally took it for walks and tirelessly threw the ball while the others inspected dilapidated old farmhouses and some jaw-droppingly awful pieces of art. However, the talent quest wasn’t entirely without fruit, as they’d happened upon a wonderfully flamboyant sixty-year-old hippy with a large collection of watercolours Alicia felt sure would sell, and a rather gifted old bumpkin of a potter who, for reasons they didn’t go into, called himself Flash Gordon.

Though her own work had now been transported to London, Cameron was keeping it in store until she could spare the time to go and take part in organising its display. It wasn’t that she was so busy in Somerset, it was more the children being reluctant to visit the capital for fear of not wanting to leave again that was holding her back. Though they never really discussed with her how much they wished they were returning to their old schools and friends after the summer, she’d heard them talking to one another, and her heart ached with the longing to make their wishes come true. There was nothing she wouldn’t give to be able to change the course of the months ahead, particularly if it would make the forthcoming trial go away, but Robert had called from France to warn her that he was making no headway with Annabelle, so Nat must prepare himself for this to go all the way.

‘If I thought Sabrina was pushing her into it,’ Robert had said, ‘I’d tell you and put a stop to it, but as far as I can make out this is Annabelle’s decision and she’s sticking with it.’

Dismayed and angered by the news, Alicia tried throwing herself back into the double search, but as the day of Annabelle’s return drew closer, everyone’s mood started to change. It was as though the summer was coming to a premature end, and dark clouds were masking the sky, when in reality it was still pristine and blue. However, the day before she was due back the heavens opened, and after that the sun didn’t seem to have the energy to stage much of an encore.

The only good part of Annabelle’s return was that it coincided with Nat’s official work-experience period at Jolyon’s office. For the next two weeks he would be in Bristol, no longer having to endure the divided loyalties of the village, or the inconvenience and humiliation of being unable to go up to the high street. By the time he came home he’d know his AS results, which were expected to be good, and there would be only three days left before he was due to join the Upper Sixth at Stanbrooks and Darcie was to start year eight. Alicia wasn’t sure who was dreading it the most, though guessed it had to be Nat, since half the sixth form probably already knew what he was facing.

‘If only I could get him enrolled somewhere else, miles from Somerset,’ she lamented to Jolyon when she drove Nat up to stay with him. ‘He shouldn’t be having to go through this. It could damage him for life.’

‘It’s certainly going to be an experience he won’t forget,’ Jolyon agreed, ‘but Oliver’s in regular touch with the CPS and we’re still hopeful we can get the rape charge dismissed. Of course, there’ll still be the matter of unlawful sex, but we need to deal with the big issue first.’

‘Oliver has to succeed,’ she said urgently. ‘There can’t be a trial. There just can’t.’

Though Nat was unable to hear what his mother and Jolyon were saying as he unpacked in his room, he knew what they’d be discussing, because after what had felt like a two-week respite, with Annabelle away, his own sense of
doom was returning, big-time. Starting school was the first hurdle he’d have to overcome, where no doubt everyone would take sides, just as they had in the village, but worse, far, far worse, was if he ended up having to stand trial. The fact that seventy per cent of rape cases were thrown out before they got that far was small comfort when he’d expected, hoped, Oliver would have got it dismissed within days of the first hearing. Instead, time was running on, and still the prosecutors seemed to believe there was a case to answer. The horrific, unthinkable prospect of standing in the dock as an accused rapist, being judged by a jury, then possibly sent to prison for the next five years at least, when he should be at university and law school, was starting to crowd in on him with a terrible, suffocating might.

‘Mum, look what I found in the bottom drawer,’ Darcie said, coming out of her grandmother’s study to where Alicia was in the playroom, sorting through the books and files she’d taken from her mother’s desk.

Glancing at the small square box Darcie plonked on the workbench, she asked, ‘What’s in it?’

‘Mostly letters from Grandpa,’ Darcie said, pulling one out.

Seeing her father’s familiar hand spread across the page Darcie was unfolding, Alicia felt her heart swell with nostalgia. ‘How many are there?’ she asked, taking it.

‘Loads. The box is full. Isn’t it sweet that she kept them?’

Alicia smiled. ‘I wonder when she last read them,’ she said, looking at the date on the one she was holding. To her surprise it went back to a time before her parents were married.

‘People don’t really write letters any more, do they?’ Darcie said.

Alicia shook her head. ‘It’s a pity, but you’re right.’

‘So you don’t have any from Dad?’

Wishing she did, Alicia said, ‘I’ve kept all the cards he sent me over the years, and even some of the notes he left saying he’d be late, or could I pick up his dry-cleaning, or asking me to record a programme.’

Darcie screwed up her nose. ‘You kept dumb notes like that?’ she said.

Smiling, Alicia said, ‘That’s not all they said. The rest is for me to know and you to find out a long time from now. I wonder if we should read these.’

‘Oh, I think we have to,’ Darcie said, clearly sharing none of her mother’s scruples. ‘I mean, we can’t just throw them away, it would be like we didn’t care, and that wouldn’t be right at all. Honestly, I bet if Grandma was here she’d tell us to go ahead. After all, if she didn’t want us to see them, why keep them when she had plenty of chances to get rid of them?’

‘Put like that, I suppose we could have a look through,’ Alicia said. ‘I’m just intrigued to know why you’re so keen.’

Darcie’s face was all innocence. ‘I never knew Grandpa,’ she reminded her, ‘so this is a way of hearing him speak, well, sort of, if you know what I mean.’

Stooping to kiss her, Alicia said, ‘I know exactly what you mean, and it was very well put. Now, go and answer the phone and we’ll tuck these back in the drawer until we have time to get round to them properly.’

Returning to the room a few minutes later, Darcie said, ‘It was Cameron. He said to tell you he’s on his way and if we want to go out to eat it’ll have to be a pub, because Jasper’s with him.’

Smiling, Alicia said, ‘Are you going to come with us, or do you want us to drop you at Rachel’s?’

Darcie looked at her with uncertain eyes. ‘Is it OK if I come?’ she asked.

Surprised by the tentativeness, Alicia said, ‘Of course. Why would you think it wasn’t?’

Darcie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I suppose you might think I was a gooseberry and you’d rather be on your own.’

Alicia’s mouth fell open as she laughed. ‘Cameron and I aren’t dating,’ she told her firmly. ‘We’re just friends, and besides, if he can bring Jasper I’m very sure I can take you. In fact, I know he’ll insist.’

Darcie immediately brightened. ‘I really, really love him,’ she said warmly. ‘He’s so funny, isn’t he, always running after that ball, and trying to make friends with everyone we meet. I wish we could have a dog, don’t you?’

Since she’d started out thinking Darcie was talking about Cameron, Alicia was over her double take by the time she said, ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve been giving that very subject some thought, and maybe, once we’re up and running, with our finances a little more settled, it might not be out of the question.’

Darcie started to jump up and down. ‘Let’s get one like Jasper, please, please. They’re the best, and Nat’s really keen to get one too.’

Hugging her, Alicia said, ‘As soon as we’re able we’ll go online to find out if anyone in the area’s expecting a litter. Or maybe there’ll be one we can rescue.’

‘Oh yeah, that would be really cool,’ Darcie agreed. ‘Provided it’s not nutso, or anything. We could give it a really good home, couldn’t we?’

‘I think so,’ Alicia said, suddenly feeling the poignancy of expanding their family without Craig. Her first instinct was to retract what she’d promised, rather than take another single step into the future without him, but making herself smile past the ache inside she said, ‘I guess we’d better go and make ourselves presentable, don’t you?’

As Darcie charged up the stairs ahead of her she followed at a more leisurely pace, aware of how her reluctance to plan a life without Craig was still pulling her back, as though her dreams were all now trapped inside her memories.

‘OK, you’ve got one each,’ Darcie announced, handing out single sheets of paper to her father, her mother and Nat. Then suddenly she snatched them back again. ‘No, I’m going to read them out myself,’ she decided, making them into a neat little pile.

‘What is it?’ Nat asked, stretching luxuriously, then losing it in a laugh as Alicia poked his hairy tummy.

It was Sunday morning and she and Craig were still in bed, with Nathan, in boxers and a T-shirt, sprawled out next to his mother, and Darcie, who’d dug her brother out of a lie-in for this big event, sitting cross-legged up against the foot rail. ‘
Duh
, they’re the poems I was writing for you all,’ she reminded him.

Nat turned his head towards Alicia. ‘Can’t wait for this,’ he muttered, and earned himself a warning nudge in the ribs.

‘I heard what he said,’ Darcie complained, looking at her father.

‘Ignore him, squirrel,’ Craig told her. ‘He has an under-developed sense of the arts, unlike you, my darling. So, come on, hit us with your rhythm stick.’

Darcie bubbled with laughter. ‘OK, here goes,’ she said, looking down at the first sheet of paper. ‘This one’s for you, Dad.

‘“My dad is a lawyer, tall and strong,

He gets people sent to prison when they do things wrong,
I love him very much with all my might,
Having him as my dad means I’m getting things right.”’
She looked up, beaming with delight.
‘Fantastic,’ Craig enthused. ‘Well done, squirrel. Can I keep it?’

‘I’ll get you a copy,’ she told him. ‘Now, here’s yours, Mum,’ she said to Alicia. ‘Are you ready?’

Still smothering a smile at the ‘copy’ line, Alicia said, ‘Ready.’

‘“My mum is a sculptor, pretty and slim,
She makes things out of steel and bronze, all from a whim,
I love her very much with all my heart,
Having her as my mum means I’ve had a great start.”’
Her eyes were shining with pride as she looked at Alicia.
‘Brilliant!’ Alicia declared. ‘I love it. Can I have a copy too?’

Darcie nodded importantly. ‘I was going to end it with the line, “Even though she’s turned me into a work of art,”’ she said, looking down at it again. ‘I still might, I’ll think about it. OK, Nat, it’s your turn. Are you ready?’

‘Bring it on,’ he encouraged.

‘“My brother is a pain, but I love him all the same,
His name is Nat and he’s definitely not fat …”’
‘Definitely not
fat
,’ he scoffed. ‘What kind of …’

Darcie looked up, stricken, as her mother clapped a hand over Nat’s mouth.

‘Go on, sweetheart,’ Alicia said softly.

Darcie glowered at him, then went back to her poem,
‘“His name is Nat, and he’s very, very fat,”’ she amended.

‘“He’s tall and he’s dark and he’s great at sport,
If ever I get into trouble, I want him on my side in court.”’
Her eyes came up uncertainly.

‘Bloody fantastic,’ Nat declared, clapping his hands. ‘You’re a laureate in the making, squirrel. Can I have a copy too?’

‘No, because you’ll say you’re going to use it in the loo.’ Her eyes lit up. ‘That rhymed too,’ she said to her father.

Laughing, Craig swung her into his arms and kissed her roundly on the cheek. ‘I’m going to get them all framed,’ he told her, ‘and we’ll hang them in our bedrooms.’

She seemed to like the idea, until her nose wrinkled a protest. ‘I won’t have one,’ she pointed out.

‘Oh yes, you will,’ he told her, ‘because Nat’s going to write one for you, aren’t you, son?’

‘Get lost,’ Nat cried. ‘I’m …’


And
,’ Craig cut in, ‘he’s going to make it up right now. So off you go, Nat. Wow us all with your poetic genius, see how much better you can do than your sister.’ In a whisper to Darcie he said, ‘He’ll be rubbish, so don’t worry, you’ll still be the best.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Nat retorted. ‘OK, so, off the top of my head, here goes … My sister is a cutie, all cuddly and sweet, her name is Darcie and … she lives on our street …’

Craig winced and Darcie giggled. ‘Told you,’ Craig whispered.

BOOK: Lost Innocence
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