Close My Eyes (45 page)

Art marches through the kitchen to the door opposite the garage. Morgan’s blonde wig lies on the countertop where she left it earlier. I suddenly think of Charlotte West and my earlier
suspicions. God, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Charlotte was simply a sad woman who thought she saw something to aspire to in my life – from my books and my hair and my handbag up to
and including my husband. Like me, she has no idea who he really is.

I follow Art into the playroom.

It’s a big room – and quite different from the rest of the house, with bright blue paint on the walls and toy soldiers decorating the long curtains that hang either side of the
French doors. Toys are strewn everywhere – there’s a full train-set laid out in one corner, a large box filled with action figures and plastic robots and a whole wall of shelves crammed
with games and jigsaws. A huge TV stands in one corner and there’s a wooden playhouse opposite, complete with front door and tiny window.

Art heads straight to the playhouse. ‘Ed?’ he says.

‘Rah!’ Ed bursts out of the playhouse. He is tensed, his little hand clutching a toy sword. He doesn’t notice me. ‘Daddy!’ The tension fades from Ed’s face.
He drops the sword and hurls himself into Art’s open arms.

‘Hey, buddy.’ Art picks up the little boy and hugs him tight. ‘You should be in bed.’

‘I was, but Mummy made me go too early,’ Ed says. ‘I woke up.’

I stand in the doorway and watch Ed’s chubby fingers clutch at Art’s hair, his face nuzzling into Art’s neck. Again, I’m filled with a love I didn’t even know was
possible. It doesn’t matter what I have to give up. I can’t give up Ed.

It’s unthinkable.

And then he looks up and spies me at the door.

‘Daddy, it’s
her
,’ he whispers loudly, his eyes widening with fear.

Art turns and faces me. ‘This is . . .’ He falters.

‘I’m going to take you on a trip, Ed,’ I say.

Ed shakes his head. From outside, I hear the crunch of wheels on gravel. Morgan is here.

Art motions to the French doors. ‘You can get out to the front that way. Take Ed. Now.’

I move towards them, but Ed clings more tightly to Art.

‘No.’ His mouth forms that determined line I saw in the school playground. The resemblance between him and Art is even stronger than it was earlier. ‘No!’

‘Sssh.’ Art sounds desperate.

I look round. Morgan will have heard that. She’ll be here any second. There’s no time. I reach out for Ed’s arm. Ed kicks out with his bare foot, then clamps it back around
Art’s waist. Art tries to disentangle him but every time he frees one limb, Ed clutches at Art with another. I step back, distraught.

For a second I see us as if from across the room – a parody of a loving family.

‘I want Mummy,’ Ed wails.

‘Mummy’s here, baby.’ The door slams open. Morgan stands in the doorway. She is smiling at Ed, but her eyes are icy cold.

Ed is struggling to get down from Art’s arms now. Art reluctantly sets him on the floor, but holds on to his wrist. ‘Gen, take him outside.’

‘No.’ Morgan pats the pocket of her cream overcoat where the outline of her gun is visible. ‘I just loaded this, Art,’ she says. ‘Don’t make me use it in
front of the child.’

My chest tightens. ‘Where is Lorcan?’

Morgan ignores me. A beat passes, then Art lets go of Ed’s wrist. The little boy tears across the room to Morgan, ducking behind her legs, then peering out at me from one side.

‘Go into the kitchen, Ed,’ Morgan orders. ‘Be my brave knight, like we talked about. And remember everything I told you. Everything you have to do.’

‘But, Mummy.’ Ed’s lip wobbles.

‘Go!’ Morgan’s voice rises. ‘Let Daddy and me deal with the bad lady.’

I look at Morgan and feel absolute hatred.

‘
Now
, please, Ed.’ Her tone is cold and harsh. ‘Don’t let me down.’

The little boy picks up his toy sword and stomps off towards the kitchen, kicking at a teddy bear.

It flashes into my head that, for the first time in my life, I’m capable of killing someone. In fact, in that moment, the clean murder of a gunshot to the head seems like a death too good
for Morgan.

Once Ed disappears, Morgan takes the gun out of her pocket.

‘I took the bullets out,’ Art says.

Morgan raises a contemptuous eyebrow. ‘I just told you, I loaded it. You think I don’t keep bullets in the house?’

‘Where’s Lorcan?’ I ask.

‘He’s still in the car,’ Morgan says. ‘You need to get your ass in there too, Geniver.’

‘What, so you can drive us back to the middle of nowhere and try murdering us again?’ I take a step towards her. I’m itching to run over and knock the gun out of her hand. She
could be bluffing about those bullets and, at this precise moment, I’m willing to take the risk.

‘Morgan,
please
.’ Art strides up next to me, then stops as she levels her gun at him.

‘Stay where you are.’ Morgan draws herself up. She glances at me. ‘Art belongs with me, Geniver. He’s trying to help you because he feels sorry for you. But his heart is
here, with me and Ed.’

‘You’re delusional,’ I snap.

‘For God’s sake, Morgan,’ Art pleads. ‘It’s not too late. I was there, with O’Donnell. I can tell the police that was an accident. But you can’t do
this. Not to Gen.’

‘I can’t let her take Ed, either.’ Morgan curls her lip into a snarl. ‘Why did you bring her here, Art? This is our home. She doesn’t belong here.’

‘Stop talking like that, Morgan.’ Art lowers his voice. ‘You
know
the choice I’ve made. I’m with
Gen
.’

My head spins. How can Art be talking to his sister like this? How can Morgan have these feelings? How is it possible I’ve known them both for such a long time and had no bloody clue?

‘Oh, Art . . .’ Morgan stares at him, her mouth trembling slightly. I have the strong impression she’s almost forgotten I’m in the room. ‘We can’t let Geniver
walk out of here knowing . . . what she knows.’

‘I thought it didn’t matter whether I walk out or not,’ I say. Morgan looks round. ‘You’ve already said you’ll send Jared after me.’

Morgan stiffens. There’s only contempt in her eyes as she looks at me. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she insists. ‘You don’t get it, Geniver. You don’t
understand anything about real love. Real loyalty. Real sacrifice.’

‘Of course I get it.’ Morgan’s earlier conversation flashes into my head. ‘I even heard you talking to Jared about it before, in the car. You said if it came to it, he
could get the money from Bitsy. That’s what you were talking about – killing me.’

Morgan shakes her head.

‘The details don’t matter,’ Art says. ‘Come on, Morgan, face the facts. There’s no way you can make this work. The truth is out now.’

‘The truth isn’t “out”,’ Morgan snaps. ‘Only Geniver and Lorcan know about the past. Anyway, even if Ed isn’t my son biologically, he is in every other
respect. It might take a fight to make the courts see it but I am Ed’s mother. No one can take that away from us.’

I lean against the wall of the playroom. Here, surrounded by Ed’s toys, it seems surreal to be talking of court cases and biology. For all that I hate Morgan, I have to acknowledge this is
Ed’s home.

‘There must be a way through this,’ I say.

‘Shut up,’ Morgan snaps.

‘Please, listen.’ My voice shakes. ‘Maybe if everyone calms down, we can find a way that allows Ed to be with
all
of us.’

‘I’m not sharing him,’ Morgan says. ‘Now, for the last time, I’m taking Geniver outside and—’

‘No.’ Art and I speak together.

Morgan cocks the gun. Behind her, Ed has reappeared. He is peering around the kitchen door. Art notices him too. A terrible look of fear and guilt crosses his face.

‘Go to your room, Ed,’ Art orders.

The little boy’s eyes are wide and round with shock, but he slinks away out of sight.

Morgan raises her hand and points the gun at me. ‘If I have to, I’ll shoot you here.’

All I can see is the barrel of the gun. My legs are shaking, but I stand my ground. For a moment I truly believe I am about to die. And then Art steps in front of me.

‘If you’re going to kill Gen, you’ll have to kill me first.’

‘Get out of the way, Art.’

‘No.’

He means it. He will not let me die. I reach up and put my hand on Art’s shoulders. I squeeze his arm. Whatever else Art has done and whatever is going to happen next, I want him to know
this counts.

My eyes are fixed on Morgan.

With a roar, a figure flashes across the room. It’s Lorcan, a long-bladed kitchen knife in his hand. Before I can even register what’s happening, he’s reached Morgan. He grabs
her arm with one hand and holds the knife across her body with the other.

My heart pounds as Art darts forward to take Morgan’s gun. And then she twists away. For a second everything slows down. I’m trying to run towards them and Art is reaching out and
Morgan is lunging and Lorcan is backing away from them both, the knife unused at his side.

For a second Morgan and Art stand and stare at each other.

And then the gun fires.

I freeze. Time slows to a crawl as Morgan reaches forward, holding her arms out to Art. He backs away, the gun dangling from his fingers. Morgan’s hands fall to her
sides. Her eyes close and her body folds in on itself. With a thud, she crumples to the floor.

Lorcan and I look at each other, dumbstruck, then down at Morgan. She is perfectly still. Blood is seeping out of her chest . . . bright red against the blue carpet.

I rush over. ‘Morgan?’

Her eyelids flicker open and she fixes me with a triumphant look.

‘He’ll get you,’ she whispers. ‘I’ve made sure of it. He’ll get you both.’

For a moment it’s still her, staring up at me – angry and brittle – and then her eyes lose their focus and their expression and suddenly she’s no longer inside her own
body. Gone.

Art sinks to his knees, the gun still in his hand. I look up, to see Ed standing in the doorway. More slow seconds pass. They feel like for ever. Then Ed draws in a huge breath and lets out an
agonized wail.

I’ve reached him before I knew I was going to move. I pull him towards me but he wriggles away, tearing across the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps crossing the hall. He’s running
upstairs.

I move to run after him, but Art grabs my arm.

‘Wait a minute, please,’ he urges.

I look behind me. Lorcan is kneeling by Morgan’s body. He is holding her wrist, feeling for a pulse. His other hand is over her mouth, checking for breath. Blood is everywhere. He shakes
his head. ‘She’s dead.’

A wave of nausea surges through me. I close my eyes.

‘Gen?’ Art gives my arm a shake.

I realize he’s been speaking. I haven’t taken in a word.

‘What?’ I stare at him blankly.

Art sets the gun on the floor at his feet. ‘I’m leaving this here,’ he says. ‘It’s got my fingerprints all over it. Don’t touch it.’

I nod.

He turns to Lorcan. The two men stare at each other with untempered loathing.

‘Where’s Jared? How did you get away?’ Art asks.

‘I knocked him out,’ Lorcan says. ‘He’s outside, on the drive.’

Art walks across the room to the French windows. As he unlocks the door, Lorcan looks up from Morgan’s body, eyes blazing. ‘Where are you going?’ he demands.

‘Jared might come round,’ Art says. ‘We need to make sure he doesn’t run off. I’m going to tie him up.’

‘Like hell you are,’ Lorcan snaps. ‘You’re not leaving this room.’

Art steps back from the door. ‘We have to deal with Jared,’ he insists. There is a terrible pain in his eyes but I recognize the fixed set of his jaw . . . the determination in the
press of his lips. ‘It’s the only way to keep Gen safe.’

‘You’re staying here,’ Lorcan stands up. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘No, listen.’ Art looks from Lorcan to me with desperate eyes. ‘I know where the rope is. I’ll come straight back.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ Lorcan says. He strides over to Art. The two men glare at each other, fists clenched.

‘I don’t care what you believe. I’m doing this for Gen,’ Art says.

‘I think you’ve lost the right to do
anything
for her.’ Lorcan moves closer. He and Art eyeball each other, neither one backing down.

‘Stop it. What about Ed?,’ I say, horribly aware that the little boy is upstairs somewhere, frightened and alone. ‘And we should call the police. Right now.’

Lorcan gives Art a final glare. ‘Fine. I’ll stay with Gen.

Art holds up his hands in a gesture somewhere between self-loathing and defeat, then he points to the gun that he left on the floor. ‘Call 999, Gen. Show them that. Tell them everything
that happened. Except, there’s one thing you shouldn’t say.’

‘Oh, and what’s that?’ Lorcan demands.

Art points to the knife, which Lorcan brought in from the kitchen. It’s lying a couple of metres away on the floor. ‘I’d wipe your fingerprints off that and put it back in the
knife block in the kitchen.’

Lorcan blinks. This was clearly the last thing he expected Art to say. ‘Right.’ He gets to his feet and strides into the kitchen, picking up the knife on the way. A second later I
hear the tap running.

A moment passes. I glance down at Morgan. She is still bleeding into the carpet. I cover my mouth with my hand.

‘Oh, Gen . . .’ Art says quietly. ‘If it has to be him, then make sure he looks after you. I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but please be careful.’

His face is as haunted and unhappy as I’ve ever seen it, and yet behind his eyes I catch a glimpse of all the warmth and force of Art’s personality.

I want to say something, but my feelings are too huge and too complicated to put into words. A part of me still loves Art. Will always love him.

All I know for sure is how much wasted life is in this room right now.

‘I’m so sorry, Gen. Please tell Ed I love him.’ Art’s voice cracks, but before I can reply, he turns on his heel, flings open the French windows and walks out, into the
darkness.

I look down at Morgan again . . . at the dark pool of blood that now surrounds her body. I cross the toom to the phone and dial 999. I explain as calmly as I can that we need police and an
ambulance as soon as possible.