Apple of My Eye (45 page)

The door of the house was still open. From inside came the sound of the telephone. Uncle George looked at his watch and frowned. ‘I’d better take that. I’m expecting a call about work any minute.’ Then he walked back into the house.

She tore open the envelope to find a note inside.

For a moment she thought she was going to scream. But she couldn’t do that. She had to be calm. She had to think.

Charles took the note and read it. ‘You can’t go,’ he told her.

‘I have to go. What else can I do?’

‘Call the police. I don’t think we have any choice now.’

‘He said tell no one.’

‘Half an hour ago you were all for telling them.’

‘Because I wanted to stop him doing something like this. But he
has
done it. He’s got her and that means he’s the one with the power. The note says for her sake come alone. If he sees the police, who knows what he might do.’

‘And if you go alone, what will he do then?’

‘At least she’ll still be alive when I get there.’

‘Then let me come with you. You can’t go alone.’

‘I’m not alone.’ She touched her stomach. ‘I’m pregnant, or at least I think I am. He doesn’t know that. Maybe it’ll make a difference if he does.’

‘And maybe it won’t.’ He seized her arm. ‘Susie …’

‘I can’t wait any longer!’

His hold remained firm. ‘One hour. I’m waiting one hour then I call the police.’

She pulled free. ‘Do what you want. I’m going now!’

Fifteen minutes later she ran through the woods. A cocktail of panic and adrenalin making her heart thump so hard that she feared it might explode.

She was deep in them now. The part where people rarely came and where fallen leaves lay in piles on the ground like unmarked graves. Once, centuries ago, a woman had searched these woods for a daughter she would never find. Or so the story went. Perhaps, in time, there would be another story told of a girl who
had been lost for ever and of another who had searched in vain.

But the story was still being written. It could change. She had the power to change it. She just had to keep believing that she could.

She carried on running, on legs that felt as if they were made of lead, while the wind tugged at her hair like the spirit of a mischievous child.

Charles walked into his study and sat down at his desk.

His head was spinning. He didn’t know what to do. Every instinct screamed for him to call the police, but what if Susan was right? What if Ronnie felt provoked? Threatened? What might he do? Who might he hurt?

And if he did call, what would he tell them? Attempted abduction? What was his evidence? Jennifer liked and trusted Ronnie and had gone with him willingly. How could anyone think that she was in danger? To the outside world, Ronnie was the perfect son. The perfect gentleman. To shatter the façade he would have to tell them other things that Ronnie had done. And who he had done them with.

But there was the note. That was evidence of threat. It was, wasn’t it?

He drummed his fingers on the desk as the thoughts jostled in his brain.

And noticed something.

The bottom left-hand drawer of the desk wasn’t closed properly. The drawer where he kept college papers and, buried beneath them, an old handgun.

He had never told Ronnie about the gun. But he had told Anna, and she could have passed the information on. Innocently. In conversation. While Ronnie gave her one of his angelic smiles and stored the knowledge away for a rainy day.

Opening the drawer, he searched for the weapon. And found it gone.

That decided him. He went to the telephone in the hall, picked up the receiver and dialled. ‘Hello. Police. I need to report …’

‘No!’

Anna stood behind him on the stairs. ‘Don’t. Please.’

He put down the receiver. ‘I have to. He’s taken Jennifer.’

Her eyes widened. He saw her swallow.

‘You know what he’s capable of, Anna.’

‘He’s not capable of hurting her. Not a child.’

‘He’s taken my gun.’

Again he saw her swallow. ‘If he has, then it’s only for a game. That’s all.’

‘And what about Waltringham? Was that a game too?’

‘Nothing happened in Waltringham!’ Her voice was shrill. ‘Not that involved him. It was just coincidence, that’s all.’

‘Do you believe that, Anna? Do you really believe that?’

‘He knew what his father looked like. I’d given him a picture. He must have seen his father in the paper and decided to keep it.’

‘And what about the drawings?’

‘They’re just drawings. They don’t mean he’s guilty. He wouldn’t hurt a child. He’s not capable of it.’

‘He told Susan that he did. And he was proud of it. He wanted her to be proud too.’

‘She’s lying! You know what she is. She’s a …’

‘Murderess? Is that what you’re going to say? Because that’s right. She is. And so is he, because they killed her stepfather together.’

She sank to her knees. ‘She made him do it. She used him.’

‘Nobody makes Ronnie do anything, Anna. He’s not a puppet. He does what he wants to do, as he did in Waltringham.’

‘He is not a monster!’ It came out as a wail. ‘He’s not! He’s just a baby. He’s my baby and he’s not capable of hurting anyone. He’s good. He’s perfect. I know he is. I know him better than anyone!’

She buried her head in her hands and began to howl, just as she must have done on the day when she was thirteen and returned home to find her house destroyed and her family lost for ever. The sight cut through him like a blade. He hated himself for what he was doing. He didn’t want to hurt her. All he had ever wanted was to protect her from pain.

But he couldn’t protect her from the truth.

And there were others who needed protection too.

He crouched down beside her, pulling her to him, stroking her hair while she buried her head in his chest. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ he said softly. ‘But I have to.

For Jennifer’s sake. She really is only a baby. You see that, don’t you?’

Silence. Her sobs were easing though her body continued to tremble.

‘Don’t you?’

Still no answer.

‘Don’t you?’

He heard her sigh. Then a faint whisper. ‘Yes. Do it. Don’t let him hurt Jennifer.’

He went to the phone. She came too, wrapping herself around him as he made the call, like a vine that could not stand without support.

Susan reached the hut.

She stopped just outside it, desperate to enter yet terrified of what she might find. Her lungs felt raw. She bent over, gasping, trying to slow her breathing.

And heard Jennifer laugh.

Straightening up, preparing herself to do whatever it took, she knocked on the door. ‘It’s me. Susie.’

More laughter. Jennifer’s once again. She turned the handle and walked in.

They were sitting together on the floor in the far corner of the hut. An old box stood between them, covered with playing cards. A perfectly innocent scene, or so it would have been if it hadn’t been for the gun that Ronnie was cradling in his lap.

Jennifer beamed at her. She smiled back, trying to act as normally as possible. Not wanting to frighten Jennifer. Remaining by the door. Not making any
sudden moves that could provoke Ronnie, who watched her with eyes that seemed empty. Blank. Dead behind the eyes. Like the soldier in the trench who had tortured his prisoner. Was he going to torture Jennifer? Was he going to torture her?

‘What are you two doing?’ she asked. Struggling to keep her voice calm.

‘Ronnie’s showing me card tricks. I can do a new one.’ Jennifer fanned the cards then held them out. ‘You have to pick one.’

She hesitated. Not sure what to do. Through the window she could see the wind shuffling the leaves that covered the ground.

‘Pick a card!’ Jennifer insisted.

She took a step forward. Ronnie pointed the gun at her. ‘Freeze!’

She did. As rigid as a statue. Once again Jennifer laughed. ‘We’re cowboys and you’re an Indian,’ she told Susan.

‘That’s right.’ Ronnie stroked Jennifer’s hair. ‘She’s a wicked squaw who wants to scalp you with a tomahawk. But she’s not going to because I’m going to shoot her. Do you think I should shoot her, Jenjen?’

‘Yes!’

The gun remained aimed at her. She stared down its barrel, wondering whether this was the moment when she was going to die. Not that she was afraid. If her life could save Jennifer’s then she would give it gladly.

But she was afraid of Jennifer seeing it. Of what the
sight might do to her. The effect it could have on the rest of her life.

However long that might be.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself. Determined to stay calm. The air in the hut was stale and rank. ‘If you’re going to shoot me then you need a sheriff present. One of you must ride back to town to fetch one. The other can stay and guard me.’

Jennifer frowned. ‘Do we need a sheriff?’ she asked Ronnie.

He shook his head.

‘Yes you do. A real cowboy wouldn’t shoot a squaw. Not without a sheriff present.’

Ronnie continued to stroke Jennifer’s hair. ‘A bad cowboy would.’

‘I’m not a bad cowboy,’ Jennifer told him.

‘But I am,’ he replied. ‘There always has to be one bad cowboy in a film. The sort of cowboy who drinks too much and gets into fights and shoots people he thinks are cheating at cards. Have you been cheating, Jenjen?’

Susan felt herself grow cold all over. Once again Jennifer laughed. ‘No!’

‘I think you have.’

‘No she hasn’t.’ She fought to keep her voice from growing shrill. ‘She’s too young to cheat or to do anything bad. Not like me. I’ve done a lot of bad things. I deserve to be shot, even without a sheriff. But she doesn’t. Not even the baddest cowboy in the world could shoot her.’

‘Couldn’t he?’ Ronnie turned to Jennifer. ‘You’ve been cheating, partner. You have to pay the price.’

Then he aimed the gun at her face. She sat there, still laughing, still thinking it was a game.

And Susan couldn’t stand it any more.

‘No, Ronnie, please don’t hurt her! Hurt me. I’m the one you hate. I’m the one who deserves it. Think of your mother. Think about how much you love her and of what she means to you. If you kill Jennifer she’ll know about it. This isn’t like Waltringham. It can’t be kept secret. She may manage to forgive you if you kill me but she’ll never forgive you if you kill Jennifer! You know she won’t!’

Jennifer was staring at her. Her smile gone as she realized that this wasn’t a game. She began to cry, suddenly terrified. Susan rubbed her face and found that she was crying too.

For a moment Ronnie continued to point the gun at Jennifer. His other hand covered her arm, holding her in place.

Then he put the gun back in his lap.

‘Go and get the sheriff,’ he told her.

Jennifer ran towards Susan, throwing her arms around her. Susan wanted to offer comfort but there wasn’t time. This was her moment and she had to act. She shoved Jennifer towards the door. ‘Run, Jenjen. You know the way home. Run as fast as you can and don’t ever forget how much I love you.’

‘But, Susie …’

‘Go! Go now!’ She thrust Jennifer outside then
closed the door behind her. From the window she watched a little figure running into the distance.

I’ve done it. She’s safe.

She turned to face Ronnie. He was still sitting on the floor, the gun in his lap.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

He didn’t answer. Just stared at her with eyes that didn’t seem dead any more. Warmth was creeping into their corners like the first rays of sunlight at dawn.

‘Are you going to kill me?’ she asked. ‘I’m not afraid to die but there’s something you need to know. I’m pregnant, Ronnie. I’m going to have a baby. Our baby.’

‘Jennifer was our baby. That’s what it felt like when we killed him. That we were protecting our child.’

She swallowed, wiping at tears that continued to fall. ‘Did it?’

‘Yes. I couldn’t hurt her. I wanted to but I couldn’t. I don’t expect you to believe that but it’s true.’

‘I do believe it. You’ve just proved it, haven’t you?’

They stared at each other. ‘Would you really have died for her?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘I would have died for you. I still would. I want to hate you but I can’t. You’re not like my father. He was nothing but a face in a photograph. Just a dream I had that helped make life more bearable. I could walk out of his life and never look back because I’d never been a part of it anyway. But I was a part of yours and I want …’ He stopped, rubbing his head. ‘And I want …’

‘What?’

‘I want things to be like they were before I told you about Waltringham. I want it to go back to how it was the day before. In Cobhams with Jennifer and your friends. Kissing in public and shocking your neighbours. I’ve never been as happy as I was then and I want it back.’

She shook her head.

‘We can pretend Waltringham never happened. I’ll burn the stuff. We’ll never talk about it again. We don’t ever have to talk about it or even think about it again.’

He rose to his feet, looking suddenly like a frightened child. Feelings of protectiveness rose up in her. She didn’t want to have them but they clung to her like leeches.

‘We can do it,’ he said, his tone a mixture of hope and desperation. ‘I know we can. We have to do it. We’re going to have a baby. We have to be together for that if for nothing else.’

He reached out to touch her face. His eyes were beseeching. For a moment she thought it was possible. She had loved him once. Perhaps she could again. He was smiling at her; his eyes those of the boy she had fallen in love with. She gazed into them.

And saw a dead child floating in the water.

She pulled away. ‘I can’t. Things can never be like that again. We can go back to town together. We can tell them that this was just a game. They don’t have to know anything else. But it can never be like it was between us, Ronnie. Never.’

He sighed. The pleading look faded from his face, replaced by acceptance. ‘I know.’

Silence. Except for the wind hammering against the window.