The Holiday Home (32 page)

‘I learned about it a few days ago, but couldn’t decide what to do. I left it too long, and now this … I’m so sorry, Connie. Your husband has behaved like a shit, and I’ve let you down. I should have had Pru’s courage and …’

‘Shhh, dear,’ said Dorothy, placing a hand on his arm. ‘This isn’t the time.’

Connie’s face crumpled and she put her head in her hands. ‘Oh God, I can’t deal with this right now, not with Abi out there, missing. I just want her back. Nothing else matters.’ Great, heaving sobs wracked her body.

Pru reached out and put her arms around her sister, pulling her close.

No one knew what to say. In the silence they heard something heavy banging down the stairs. Connie leapt up. ‘Abi!’ She ran to the door and stopped when she saw Janie, dragging a suitcase behind her.

‘What were you doing with my husband?’ demanded Connie, blocking her exit.

Janie laughed. ‘What do you think? Playing Twister?’

Connie slapped her across the face. ‘That’s from me,’ she said. Then she stamped on Janie’s sandalled foot. ‘And that’s from my daughter.’

Suddenly appalled at what she’d done, Connie stood back. In a quiet voice she said, ‘Shame on you. Get out.’

Clutching a hand to her face, Janie limped to the front door. As she stepped outside, she threw over her shoulder: ‘No wonder he wants to leave you – what a ghastly family you are!’ She closed the door with a bang before Connie could get to her.

Pru entered the hallway. ‘Did you hurt her, Con?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good.’

Arm in arm they went back to the kitchen to wait for news.

*

It was some time later when they heard footsteps on the terrace. Belinda had come back to report on progress, or the lack of it. The search parties had covered the beach and the cliff path, but there was no sign of Abi. Henry and Dorothy had gone back to The Bungalow to make more phonecalls and drum up some more volunteers.

Connie started to cry again. ‘Perhaps she’s walked into the sea and drowned. We must call the coastguard and the police.’

‘I’ll get on to them.’ Belinda rubbed Connie’s shoulder and went to use the phone in the study.

Connie watched her go. ‘She’s been so kind. Whereas—’

There was a crash. They looked up to see a drunken Greg staggering through the French windows.

‘Greg! Where have you been?’

Greg swayed slightly, obviously the worse for wear. ‘Connie, love, you’re everything to me,’ he slurred. ‘She means noth—’

‘Never mind that now, you bastard. Abi’s missing. Our little girl’s missing,’ Connie screamed at him. ‘It’s been almost two hours now. Francis and the others have been out looking all that time and they can’t find her.’

*

Abi was frightened. The pain was getting worse as the effects of the alcohol wore off. The cold was seeping into her very bones, and the slightest movement of her ankle made her feel as if she would be sick or pass out. She had given up calling for help. No one would hear her over the sound of the sea.

She could see the tide had changed and was starting to come in, but it would be a while yet before it crept into the cave. A sudden flare of lightning lit the night. She looked at the luminous dial on her new watch and counted the seconds before the thunder. Twenty. So if five seconds counted for a mile that meant it was about four miles away. Her grandfather had taught her that.

It was almost one in the morning. Over two hours had passed since she left the party. Were they looking for her? But even if they were, how would they know she was here?

Another bolt of lightning. This time more than twenty seconds passed before she heard the thunder. Good, she thought, the storm was moving away.

Hurry up and come
, she pleaded, hugging herself to try and stop the shivering.
Please, Daddy, hurry up.

*

When Belinda returned to the kitchen, Connie and Pru had been joined by Francis, Henry and Dorothy. Greg had taken a flask of coffee and insisted on going out to look for Abi; though they doubted he was in any condition to be of much use, the others were so glad to see him go they offered no objection.

‘The coastguard are on their way,’ announced Belinda.

Henry looked at her and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

Belinda suddenly remembered her own child. ‘Where’s Emily?’ she asked Francis, clutching a worried hand at her throat. ‘I thought she was with you.’

‘Jem’s taken her back to Dairy Cottage,’ said Francis. ‘I asked him to wait with her there until you get home.’

Belinda was relieved. ‘Thank you. How lovely it is to be among family.’

Henry gave her a warning look.

‘Can I tell them?’ she asked him.

He shook his head with a frown.

‘Tell them what?’ asked Dorothy, eager to take everybody’s minds off the awful wait for news of Abi. Until the coastguard arrived, there was little they could do for the time being.

‘Well …’ Belinda stood with her hands folded in front of her. Henry groaned and looked at his feet. ‘This will come as a big surprise, but it’s happy news. For me, anyway.’

She had an audience now.

‘You see,’ she looked at Pru and Connie, ‘I’m your half sister.’

You could have heard a feather land.

Dorothy turned to Henry, a horrified expression on her face. ‘Is she Susan’s?’

Belinda smiled. ‘Yes, I am Susan’s – although everyone always called her Susie.’

‘Is she alive?’ asked Dorothy urgently.

Belinda’s eyes swam, ‘No. I told you, remember? She died last year.’

‘I don’t understand,’ said Pru. ‘Who is Susan?’

30

H
enry sat with his head in his hands as Belinda told her story.

Pru looked at her father. ‘Is this all true?’ A loud crack of thunder broke right over Atlantic House.

Henry didn’t move. ‘Susan had been seeing someone else. When I found out, we had a terrible row. She led me to believe the baby wasn’t mine.’

According to Belinda, Susan had stayed in Boston picking up the odd modelling job until she’d earned enough money for the air fare home. She knew she couldn’t afford the hospital bills if her baby was born in America. Back home in the UK, she’d decided to bring up her daughter alone, afraid that if she approached Henry for money he would drag her through the divorce courts and try to win custody of the child purely to spite her. For a while, she’d returned to modelling; she’d even found Belinda some baby modelling jobs. Returning to the Playboy Club wasn’t an option; the life of a Bunny was not one that could incorporate children. Instead, Susan had to rely on whatever financial help she could get from a string of wealthy boyfriends, some of them married, none of them interested in commitment.

‘Mum never had any trouble meeting men. Hanging on to them was a different matter. I think she always had unrealistic expectations.’

Pru frowned. ‘What makes you so sure Henry is your father and not one of your mother’s boyfriends?’

‘When my mother was dying, she told me everything.’ Tears rolling down her cheeks, Belinda turned to Henry: ‘She missed you. When I was growing up, she would never tell me about my father, but after she had the stroke it all came out. I found her marriage certificate amongst her papers and asked her about it.’ Defiantly she looked Pru in the eye: ‘My mum may have been a bit promiscuous, but she wasn’t a liar – and I’m willing to take a DNA test to prove it.’

Someone knocked loudly on the front door. Francis went to answer it. On the doorstep were two police officers. One a burly man of about thirty and the other a woman in her twenties. Francis ushered them into the drawing room.

The male officer, who introduced himself as Nick, questioned them about the events that had led up to Abi’s disappearance while the female officer made notes. When they were done, she asked for a photograph of Abi and immediately took off back to the station to get the details circulated.

‘The coastguards have been alerted and are coordinating search efforts,’ explained Nick. ‘But the weather’s not helping. The Met Office have issued a severe gale warning – there’s a storm front moving in towards Land’s End and we’re going to be in for a battering over the next few hours.’

As if on cue, a fork of lightning lit up the garden and a boom of thunder rolled overhead.

Connie, her face distorted with anguish, leapt up. ‘My daughter’s out there in this – it’s no use us just sitting here. We need to find her.’

Pru and Dorothy both reached out to her, wrapping their arms around her.

‘This may seem obvious,’ said Nick, ‘but have you searched the house from top to bottom? Is it possible she could be hiding in here somewhere?’

‘We looked in every room,’ said Dorothy.

‘Did you check under beds? In wardrobes? The attic? Kids that age, when they get upset—’

‘Let’s go and check,’ said Francis, waving for Nick to follow him.

Connie and Pru were left with their parents and Belinda.

‘So now we know why you two never married,’ said Pru in a dull voice. ‘You were already married … with a family. Did you know all the time, Mum?’

‘Yes,’ said Dorothy. ‘Or rather, I knew about Susan. Neither of us knew about you, Belinda. If we had, things would have been very different. Henry and I might never have got together …’ She clasped her hands together. ‘But we can’t change the past. It’s how we deal with the future that’s important. Our first priority is to find Abi. The rest we’ll deal with as we come to it.’

Francis and Nick returned. Everyone looked at them expectantly. Francis shook his head. ‘Nothing,’ he said.

‘Any outbuildings? Garden shed, greenhouse? Any neighbours she might have gone to? With all that thunder and lightning going on outside, she’ll have tried to seek shelter. Can you think where she—’

‘We’ve already checked The Bungalow,’ said Henry.

‘Jem’s at Dairy Cottage, so we’d know if she was there,’ said Francis.

‘There’s the garage and my greenhouse,’ said Dorothy.

‘And the smuggler’s cave,’ said Pru.

‘Oh God, please don’t let her be down there,’ gasped Connie.

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ said Belinda decisively.

‘I’m coming with you!’ Connie leapt up to follow.

‘Wait for me,’ said Pru.

*

The rain lashed at the three sisters as they hurried along the path, following the beam of Belinda’s torch. All three felt a lurch of hope when the thin ray of light hit the fortified door and they saw that it was ajar. They shoved aside the heavy door and ran into the stone room: the stacks of old furniture and garden equipment were illuminated by the light coming from the stairs leading down to the boathouse. Abi must have turned them on when she came in.

They made their way down the steps as quickly as they could. The sound of waves breaking against the cave walls below drowned out their voices. The tide must have come in a long way.

As they reached the last step and turned to enter the cavern, they saw Greg struggling to untie
Abi’s Gale
from its moorings with his one good hand.

‘Greg, what are you doing?’ shouted Connie. ‘You can’t go out in this!’

Greg looked up. ‘I’m going to find Abi.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Pru. ‘Look at you – you’re in no fit state.’

Belinda stepped forward and tried to take the rope from Greg’s hand. He whipped it away determinedly, all sign of his earlier drunkenness gone.

‘Get out of my way! I have to find my daughter.’

‘The police and the coastguards are out there looking for her,’ said Belinda. ‘There’s nothing you—’

Ignoring her, Greg turned the key in the ignition and the boat’s engine spluttered into life. As he took his eyes off Belinda to turn the boat around, she leapt wildly and landed on her knees on the slippery-planked bottom. ‘I’m coming with you,’ she said. ‘There’s no way you can manage with one hand.’

Barely able to hear her above the roar of the engine and the crashing of the waves, Greg nodded his assent.

Leaving Connie and Prudence shouting after them on the small jetty, Belinda and Greg set off down the cavern towards the sea. The waves were rolling in on large unbreaking peaks, tossing the rubber hull of the boat as if it were a toy.

‘I’m scared, Greg,’ cried Belinda. ‘Please. Turn us round. Go back.’

Greg had struggled out of his sling and was trying to use his broken arm to grip the wheel for extra leverage as he circumnavigated the bend in the cave.

Suddenly they could see the ocean, black and angry against the swirl of dark clouds scudding over a waning moon.

And then a voice cried out:

‘Daddy! Help! I’m here.’

As the navigation lights illuminated the cave wall to their right, they saw Abi, clinging to a tiny ledge about half a metre above the maelstrom. Unable to walk on into the cave and up to the house, she had been overcome by the tide as it poured into the cave. She had climbed the rocks as high as she could with her damaged ankle, but the effort had left her exhausted.

‘Daddy, I’m so frightened. Help me.’

‘I’m coming, Abi!’ yelled Greg. ‘I’ll try to get underneath you. Be ready to jump when I tell you to.’

She nodded. Terrified, wet through, her teeth chattering from cold and shock, it was all she could do to cling on.

Belinda joined Greg at the wheel. He yelled instructions in her ear, guiding her to steer the boat out of the cave and into the open sea so they’d have space in which to turn. Battling against the wind, and with the rain whipping into her face and eyes, Belinda wrestled with the wheel while Greg controlled the throttle. It was all she could do to hold the boat steady. The moment there was a lull between waves, Greg pushed the throttle forward, sending the boat back into the cave.

‘Get ready, Abi,’ he yelled. Guiding Belinda’s hand to the throttle, he told her, ‘Hold tight, keep her steady – whatever you do, don’t let go.’ And then he moved into position to catch Abi, bracing his broken arm against the bar to steady himself while he held out his good hand to the stricken Abi.

‘One, two, three …’ he shouted. ‘JUMP!’

As he said the word, another flash of lightning split the sky, blinding them.