In Denial (53 page)

He turned when there was no reply.

‘
Gabrielle, not so long ago you were doing your best to stop me from walking into Loch Lomond and drowning myself. You succeeded. The experiences you’ve had were appalling by comparison but with the strength of character you showed me when we first met you can and will recover from what has happened. It will take time and only you can determine how long, but I’m as determined to put you back on your feet as you were with me.’

Adam crossed the room and sat on her bed. He picked up her hand and squeezed it lightly. ‘I have no answers, Gabrielle. My mind leaps from wanting to know more and then it tells me to run away and try to start again. You gave me that opportunity, so don’t you give up on me now.’

‘
You … you’ve no idea … no idea at all of what it was like …’ she said without looking at Adam.

He hid his delight at hearing her trying to put a sentence together. She managed to say a few words on the plane but those had been to strangers. She’d been protecting herself. She’d said nothing to him except when she needed the toilet. ‘No, you’re right, I have no idea. And I don’t know how or how long it’s going to take but I’m going to be here for you until -’

‘
Until? Until ... until what?’

‘
That I don’t know either, but can we at least make a start?’

She turned her head slightly so that she could look at Adam. Tears welled up in her eyes. ‘I was raped, Adam. Your … your brother raped me.’

‘
I know. But I don’t understand.’

‘
He raped me.’ She closed her eyes as the tears flowed and once more her whole body began to shake. Adam put his arm under her shoulders and held her as tightly as he dared.

Gabrielle did not resist, nor did she stop shaking.

They did go shopping.

But Gabrielle showed little enthusiasm.

They returned to the room in the Travel Inn with mainly casual clothes, underwear, a dressing gown, make-up, a brush and comb, toiletries and a small case.

While Gabrielle took a shower - which was a victory on its own - Adam sorted through their purchases. She had refused to try anything on. As he hung the clothes in the wardrobe and put other items in the drawers, he shook his head in disbelief: he was doing something so ordinary, so mundane, after what both he and Gabrielle had been through. Although they had escaped less than two days ago, it all seemed like a dream, a nightmare. Closing his eyes he saw Lucinda and the children, but now he also saw the Elliotts, Leila with that single bullet hole in her forehead, and his brother, Patrick, his eyes like two glass marbles …

He opened his eyes quickly. If he was going to make progress with Gabrielle’s recovery he had to drive out his own demons first, and he knew where he would start. He had given their next move a lot of thought. He would go and see his mother and father. He would have to lie: there was no way he could tell them exactly what had happened; there was no way he could tell them anything that even resembled the truth. He would think of something, but they had a right to know their son Patrick was dead. A traffic accident? An illness? A drowning? He had no idea what he would tell them but he hoped between London and Dorset he would come up with something. They would hire a car and drive to Dorset tomorrow and then they would go on to Ashbourne. If the house wasn’t sold he would take it off the market - even if in theory it was sold, he would take it off the market.

He was thinking “they”.

They would do this and then they would do that. It wasn’t just because she had been there for him, it was more to do with shared but unexplained ghastly experiences. She was his responsibility. At the moment there was no way she could fend for herself, but perhaps her psychological state was far more than he could handle. Maybe he was already out of his depth. He had no idea what to say; he had tried, but for all he knew he was doing more harm than good. She needed counselling, she needed to talk to an expert, but if she did the truth would be revealed, the police would become involved and then …

Adam’s thought processes were interrupted as Gabrielle opened the bathroom door. She looked different. Her hair was still wet but it framed her pale, delicate face, bringing out the blue of her eyes and accentuating the doleful way she was looking at him. The way she was standing made her look utterly vulnerable and desolate.

He couldn’t stop his mind flying back to the Peninsula, to Leila and her numerous exits from the bathroom - the exotic aroma of her perfume and the tantalising way she posed driving him insane. But now she was dead, as Lucinda was dead.

He wondered if Leila’s body had been found.

He looked at Gabrielle again, crossed the room and took her in his arms. She did not resist. With her wet hair against his face, smelling of shampoo and her bare shoulders above the large bath towel still speckled with droplets of water, she seemed to melt into his embrace as if at last she had found some refuge and had no more fight left in her.

With her head against his shoulder, he held her for what seemed like an eternity.

But her arms stayed where they were.

On Saturday evening Adam went out for a pizza takeaway. He took Leila’s clothes with him and dumped them in a secluded skip down a dark alley. As he turned away from the alley his mind raced back to the mugging off Nathan Road in Kowloon. He shook his head and shouted out loud to nothing and nobody in particular, ‘You’ve got to move on for both our sakes.’

He was pleased when he came back to find Gabrielle in her newly purchased dressing gown, sitting cross-legged on her bed. ‘Are you happy to talk about what we should do next?’ he asked, watching her take a healthy mouthful of pizza.

‘
Yes,’ she replied, stopping a piece of melted cheese from dribbling down her chin. She ate reasonably well. She also drank half a bottle of red wine which seemed to lift her spirits.

‘
I’ve given what we should do a lot of thought,’ he said. ‘But before we do anything else I’d like to go and see my mother and father. I’d prefer them to hear from me that Patrick is dead, rather than from some faceless Foreign Office employee.’

Gabrielle stopped chewing and dropped her piece of pizza into the cardboard box she was using as a plate. She lowered her head. Adam swore under his breath, realising that any mention now of his brother would bring on such a reaction. He should have kept it to just wanting to see his mother and father.

‘
I’m sorry,’ he added, ‘that was insensitive of me.’

‘
No, it’s not you.’ she said, lifting up her hand and making real eye contact with Adam. ‘There is something you need to know.’

‘
What’s that?’

‘
There’s no simple way of putting this: your father is also dead.’

‘
Dead?’ Adam heard the word dead, he had just used it himself, but what Gabrielle had said before the word dead had not registered. ‘What did you say?’

‘
I’m sorry Adam, but your father is dead.’

This time it did register. ‘Dead, what do you mean dead? I went to see him before I left … sorry, Gabrielle ... but if he is dead how do you know?’

‘
I ... I also went to see your mother and father. I went to see if they could add anything more to what I’d already found out about you, and the accident had only just happened before I arrived.’

‘
Found out about me? Accident? What are you talking about?’

‘
Well, it wasn’t an accident. Your father shot ... he shot your mother and then turned the gun on himself.’

Adam stared at Gabrielle in shock and disbelief. He had thought he’d reached the end of an unexplained chapter of a badly written and unacceptably bizarre suspense novel, but in just a few words Gabrielle had introduced another chapter which asked the questions all over again.
Your father shot your mother and then turned the gun on himself
. Twelve words. Just twelve words.

Very quietly he asked: ‘You said my father is dead. Are you saying my mother is not?’

‘
No ... not as far as I know. When I … when I saw her she was in hospital but the doctors didn’t seem too concerned.’

‘
I see.’ Adam thought for a moment. ‘And there wasn’t any doubt about my father’s suicide?’

‘
I … I really don’t know what happened after I left, but the police seemed to think there was little doubt.’

‘
But why would my father try to kill my mother?’

Gabrielle shook her head. ‘I ... I don’t know, Adam. I’m so sorry.’

‘
And what were you doing there?’

She broke eye contact. ‘I ... I ... no, I can’t go there yet.’ But she did reach into her bag and retrieve from an inside pocket the jade ring Christina had given her. ‘Your mother told me to show you this when I found you. I’m … I’m sorry but the opportunity never …’

‘
I think I understand,’ Adam said, gently taking the ring from her and enclosing it in his hand. ‘Is it ever going to end?’ he asked.

‘
It has to,’ she whispered.

It must have been about three o’clock in the morning and Adam was still wide awake. He had taken a shower while Gabrielle prepared herself for bed and when he left the bathroom she was already on the point of falling asleep. He sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a few blonde hairs from her face before he bent over and kissed her gently on the forehead.

‘
Sleep tight,’ he whispered, almost forgetting his own heartache as he was flooded with a sudden surge of compassion for this lovely woman. ‘All will turn out well.’

After nearly three hours of lying awake he wished he was able to convince himself that all would turn out well. He heard Gabrielle turn over every now and again, and once or twice she cried out - a stifled nightmarish cry - but her sleep was not as disturbed as he’d expected it to be.

He thought about getting dressed and going for a walk along the river but didn’t want to leave Gabrielle alone. If she did wake up suddenly and he wasn’t there it might undo the progress that had been made. He put his hands behind his head, closed his eyes and prayed for just a few hours sleep.

In the gloom he heard her get out of her bed and assumed she was going to the bathroom, but was astounded when she pulled his duvet to one side and slipped into bed next to him.

‘
Hold me,’ she whispered.

As he held her the Elliotts drifted into her mind. They would be worried sick because she hadn’t returned. She must let them know as soon as possible that she was all right and where she was. There was no need for them to know any of the sordid details. She didn’t have their telephone number, but she’d have to get a message to them somehow. She would also have to ask them to send her some of her things: her crucifix and her bible in particular.

Eventually they both fell asleep.

It was Sunday morning and the M3 was not busy.

‘
At least the traffic isn’t too bad,’ Adam said. ‘I think I’ll cut south from the A303 and then pick up the A354 for Blandford,’ he added, more for his own sake than Gabrielle’s. He would have felt apprehensive about going to Winterbourne Kingston anyway but now that he knew about his father his apprehension was far greater.

Being told that his father was dead and the circumstances under which he had died, had not affected him in the way he thought perhaps it should have done. He was being dispassionate and although the circumstances since Lucinda and the children were killed had been far from good, he still wondered why he didn’t feel more heartache. But he did not.

For his mother, though, it was the opposite. There was a chance he would find his mother alive. He’d thought about phoning ahead but was concerned that his call might worry her if she were still very ill.

Getting into bed with Adam made Gabrielle feel secure for the first time in weeks. She needed him and when he held her close, his touch so light against her skin, it helped even more. It was the closest she had ever been to him and it struck her that in spite of only knowing him for such a short time, it nevertheless seemed so natural. He did not misunderstand her needs. She still felt filthy and defiled but she felt she was regaining her confidence and a little of her self esteem. At least in her own mind she had moved on just a little and enough to think there might be hope after all. Adam was right: she had been there for him and now he was here for her.

But for how long?

In the morning after she showered she looked at the clothes they had bought the previous evening and smiled to herself; she remembered being with Adam in the shops but it was as though they had been in two parallel worlds.

As she was putting on her pants he came out of the bathroom. She stopped and they stared at each other. Gabrielle made no attempt to cover herself; it was too late and there was little point. They held eye contact for a few seconds before Adam said, ‘I hope they’re the right size.’

She wriggled into her pants then reached for the bra. ‘They’re perfect,’ she said, slipping the bra straps over her shoulders. ‘And Adam, thank you for last night,’ she added tentatively. ‘Just being held like that probably did more good than any doctor or psychiatrist could ever have done.’