Fragile Lives (15 page)

‘Maybe I do,' he acknowledged.

One of his men had appeared in the doorway and they took it this was their cue to leave. Silently, Tim swung the car around and headed back towards the gate. He didn't speak until they'd reached the main road and then when he opened his mouth to say something, Rina gestured silence, finger planted firmly on her lip.

‘I think I need a cup of tea,' she said. ‘And a sit down and a good think.'

Tim nodded. ‘Right you are,' he said. ‘You think he's right about the twins?' He looked at her: was this a safe subject?

‘Poor little buggers,' Rina said. She nodded. It would seem strange if they stayed off the subject altogether.

‘And what do you think of Randall?'

Rina smiled. ‘He's a man used to getting his own way,' she said. ‘And I do wonder as to the truth of things when he says he sent his wife and child away. I think she left him. Took the little boy and went. Can you imagine trying to raise a child in a place like that?' She reached forward and turned the radio on, playing with the channels until finding something Tim thought must be Bach. He winced as she increased the volume, laughed out loud as he noticed the look of mischief on her face.

‘You think he bugged my car, don't you?' Tim stated as she unlocked the door at Peverill Lodge.

‘The postcard. Karen's postcard. It had been moved and our friend Randall does seem to have a penchant for things electronic.'

‘How are we going to find out for sure?'

‘That,' Rina told him, ‘is why we have a pet policeman.'

A
t nine o'clock it was fully dark but the night was clear and filled with stars. Simeon sat in the attic window looking out to sea. He loved this room; it had been turned into a playroom for the two boys when they had still been very small, long before Simeon's accident. It had been left just as it was, the decor and contents added to through the years as their interest waxed and waned and changed. Andrew had begun to use it for his homework and then his writing projects while, for a long time, Simeon still played with their toys and childhood games.

Andrew had once commented that sometimes, as he climbed the stairs, he felt that if he trod silently and carefully enough and then opened the door really fast, he might see the tiny Andrew and slightly bigger Simeon playing as they used to play. Might almost catch sight of the way they had been before …

Andrew didn't know that Simeon had heard him say that. Simeon sort of understood that Andrew would never say something like that to him for fear of hurting his feelings or causing upset, but something in the strange way that Simeon's brain now worked – connecting one complex notion, unable to deal with a different simple one – had taken that idea into itself. Had enjoyed it, played with it, turned it this way and that until Simeon now looked for the ghostly shapes of their former selves whenever he came up here.

And he came here very often.

Tonight, as most nights, he was watching the ocean, waiting for the lights. Starry nights were best for this because he knew the constellations and could line up the shoreside landmarks with the stars far out in the night landscape and make patterns that stuck more firmly in his head than simple words. Andrew had a telescope. He had acquired it when he was twelve years old, just at the time when Simeon was starting to make sentences again. Andrew had moved the telescope into Simeon's room and sat for hours, training it on this far distant star or that much closer planet. He'd told Simeon stories about the constellations and talked to him about the stars and how far away they were and somehow this had infiltrated into Simeon's slowly rebuilding brain, making connections the doctors had never believed possible.

Simeon still could not tie his laces, but he knew Orion and Cassiopeia and could picture Pegasus flying through the night sky and Draco breathing fire. When he had first met Rina Martin he had told her all about his stars and the way he watched for the lights and she had wanted to know all about the things he saw.

Now, he sent her lists and she read them and wrote him notes about them and she never laughed when he found it hard to tie his laces.

And so he watched tonight, looking for a boat in a stupid place and lights where no lights ought to be.

And suddenly there they were. The big boat moving in towards the shore and the little boat detaching itself from it, the lamp on the bow bobbing and playing hide-and-seek as it dipped and rose and dipped again and then disappeared from view as the headland blocked it.

He ran downstairs, shouting to his brother, telling Andrew that he had to use the phone. Simeon found it hard to do that, the disembodied voice and lack of visual cues so terribly upsetting. So, Andrew called Rina for him and told her in detail what Simeon had seen and when he put down the phone Andrew told him to get his coat. They would meet Rina on the cliff top near the hotel and see if they could see anything from there.

‘Outside? It's night.'

‘I'll be there, Tim and Rina will be there. It will be an adventure.'

‘We got stuck in the cave.'

Andrew looked at his brother in surprise. ‘You remember that?'

Simeon nodded. Held up his thumb and forefinger with a small gap between. ‘A little bit. Just a little bit. I remember shouting.'

Andrew smiled. ‘That's good,' he said. ‘That's very good.' He wanted to press Simeon for more, urge this precious fragment of the old Simeon out into the open but he knew better than to try. Recovered memories were so precious but also so easily corrupted. Any hint, any additional detail Andrew might inadvertently toss his way would be incorporated into Simeon's thoughts about it and might actually block the re-emerging images. He had to be patient, to allow the natural process to bring it to the fore.

‘Get your coat,' he said, ‘and your scarf. It will be cold.'

A little further along the coast Ursula and George sat in the conservatory, all lights out, watching the darkened ocean. They had looked for lights each night since encountering Simeon and tonight, there they were.

Excited, Ursula led the way into the silent garden. George, wishing they had their coats, closed the door silently behind them. Ursula had a little wind-up torch, another gift from the aunt. The fact that it was bright pink didn't detract from its practicality, though George was glad that Ursula was holding it and not him. The flamingo pink might look fine on long-legged birds but was garish enough to be poisonous for almost fourteen-year-old boys.

‘Watch the steps,' she said.

The lawn beyond was wet and chilly and the air was cold. Close together, they trod softly across the grass and through the gate at the end of the garden that led on to the cliff path. For a moment George thought the lights had gone, then he caught sight again as the little boat rose on the swell close beneath the cliff.

‘It
is
going to the cave,' he said. ‘I'm certain of it.' He leaned out as far as he dare, Ursula grabbing his sweatshirt, suddenly afraid that he might fall. ‘I can't see it now, the headland's in the way.'

‘Let's go in, it's freezing.'

George nodded. He'd begun to shiver but he felt elated. They had seen Simeon's light. ‘Now, what do we do?'

‘Tell your friend Rina, I suppose,' Ursula said. ‘Though I expect Simeon will have been watching too.'

Rina already knew. She and Tim had arrived at the DeBarr Hotel on Marlborough Head just after Simeon and Andrew and gone from there up on to the cliff path.

‘What if someone comes up the steps?' Tim asked. He could well recall the day he and Rina had made the trek down the side of the cliff on to the tiny beach, Rina in search of clues as to who might have been landing on that tiny strip of beach late at night. Mac had seen the lights on that occasion and wondered about them. Now, it seemed, that was not just a one-off. He was glad the tide was high and the beach and little cave inaccessible at this time of night. It had been bad enough making their way down the treacherous and almost non-existent path in daylight. Tim knew he wouldn't have had the nerve for it at night. ‘What
do
we do if someone comes up?' he asked again.

‘If anyone comes up then we all head back towards the hotel and pretend to be going for a drink,' Rina said. ‘We'll hear them in plenty of time. You remember what a steep climb it was?'

Tim nodded, recalling only too well. Even Rina had been breathless by the time they'd reached the top.

They stood in silence, waiting, catching the faint sound of the outboard motor carried on the strengthening wind. Then: ‘Look,' Andrew said. ‘The lights again, but headed away this time, back to the larger boat.'

‘We'd better tell Mac,' Tim said. ‘Question is, were they dropping off or picking up?'

They waited a little longer but it was cold on the cliff top and Simeon was bored now he'd done what he'd set out to do. Andrew took him home. Tim and Rina followed a few minutes later, collecting their car from the hotel car park. Making their way back down the narrow road Tim noticed a car following. He mentioned it to Rina.

‘I saw the same car just after we left Randall's place. I'm certain of it. It followed us most of the way back to Frantham, but I didn't think much of it at the time.'

‘Can you see the registration number?'

Tim squinted into the rear view. ‘Just about.' He relayed it to Rina who wrote it down. ‘Another thing to pass on to Mac.'

‘We'll be doing him out of a job. I'm not sure I like this, Rina.'

He dropped her at the front of Peverill Lodge and went round the back to park the car. Rina stood in her little sitting room, watching the street. The car they had noticed drove past, then it turned at the crossroads, deserted this time of night, and drove back to the end of the road, returning the way it had come. Tim joined her at the window.

‘I think they want us to see them.'

‘So, who sent them? Randall? James Duggan? Travis Haines? Friend or foe, Tim?'

‘You know, Rina my dear,' Tim told her, ‘I'm not so sure there's a great deal of difference. I don't know that either Randall or Duggan really know which they are. They might just about be classed as friendly so long as we're playing their game, but I don't think we should be under any illusions should we cease to be useful.'

Rina snorted. ‘Tim, love, I don't see that we've done much to be of use anyway, so far.'

‘Oh, I think we have,' Tim objected. ‘You, me, Mac, we've shoved our little heads above the parapet and no doubt will continue to do so. We've been attracting attention to ourselves ever since we first made friends with young George and let his dad fall off that cliff and I've no doubt all of this is connected one way or another. Duggan has already proved what a nuisance he can be and he's not been scared off yet. Randall is obsessed and, if you ask me, the man's mentally unbalanced but his involvement is pretty understandable too. But if I were the bad men, and I mean the bad men out there and not the ones we have round to dinner, then I'd be wondering what the hell the likes of us were doing getting involved and if there's anything we know they should be worrying about. And there's Mac too, our own pet policeman. I'd be wondering just what he's up to.'

‘And how curious about us do you reckon the bad guys we wouldn't invite to dinner are likely to get?'

‘Oh, I think Duggan and Randall are hoping they're going to get very curious. We don't fit the usual pattern so we're going to be worth having a closer look at and, while we're running the risk of getting our little heads blown off, stirring up worries the way Duggan and Randall and all the predictable guys are doing—'

‘The sharks we had for dinner are waiting for us to be served up as dessert,' Rina said.

R
ina had left three messages for Mac and by late evening he was on her doorstep.

‘Busy day?'

‘Very, here there and everywhere. Thanks for telling me about the boathouse, by the way. I move in a week on Saturday. It looks perfect.'

‘Good,' Rina approved. She gave him a speculative look. ‘I hear you had help inspecting it?'

Mac laughed. ‘Her name is Miriam Hastings,' he said, ‘and she's a forensic scientist and yes, I do like her and yes, if it gets anything like serious I'll bring her round for your approval. Now, what do you have to tell me?'

For the next hour they drank coffee and Tim and Rina filled him in on the events of the past days.

‘I went to the library,' Rina told him, ‘found out what I could about the twins' parents. It's handy being able to Google folk.'

‘And you found out what? Not that I approve. I don't think you should have gone anywhere near this Randall.'

‘I Googled him too,' Rina said. ‘And, may I say, he turns up in some very unexpected places. He was a diamond dealer in the seventies, played the futures markets right through the eighties, bought property like it was going out of fashion all through the nineties, but his career portfolio for the past five years or so is what you might call vague. Plenty of legitimate stuff, donations to charities, membership of various boards and so on.'

‘And the illegitimate stuff? Rina, you're letting me down. Seriously though, this is a man with resources and probably very few scruples. You've done what you can and I really think you ought to back away. Now.'

‘That's what you think, is it? Well, I'll be sure to take that under advisement. Tim got the hotel job, by the way. The manager called at teatime.'

‘Now you're just trying to distract me.'

‘Succeeding?'

‘No, but congratulations, Tim. Well deserved. And the twins. Should we believe Randall?'

Rina nodded slowly. ‘I think we should,' she said. ‘Which is why I wanted to talk to you so urgently and why I couldn't think of a message I could leave and not give the game away. I believe Randall about one thing and that's that the parents may be punished if the police get involved. None of us want to be responsible for those little girls getting hurt.' She saw Mac flinch and pitied him, but knew there was no easy way of saying any of this. ‘If the abductors get the money then they will return the children. At least, that's been the way of things so far.'