The Triumph of Katie Byrne (14 page)

Xenia poured herself a glass of champagne and joined Katie near the fireplace. She said, ‘It’s just the three of us for dinner tonight. Verity did ask her friend Rex Bellamy to join us for the weekend, but he won’t arrive until tomorrow. You’ll like him, he’s very nice.’

Nodding, Katie took a sip of wine and said, ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’ Xenia sipped from the champagne.

‘Why is he called Boy?’ Katie asked.

‘Because his father was also named Rex and when he was a child everyone referred to him as The Boy, or
Rex’s Boy, and it became a nickname.’ Xenia shook her head, faintly smiled. ‘The English have such a penchant for giving each other nicknames, some of them most peculiar, I’m afraid.’

Katie merely nodded, and then glanced at the door as it opened. Verity smiled at her as she came forward, exclaiming, ‘I’ve just sent Dodie up to turn on the heat in your room, Katie. It only just occurred to me that you must have been frightfully cold while you were dressing for dinner.’

‘It did get a bit chilly,’ Katie replied, smiling back. ‘But I took a hot bath and that did the trick.’

‘The room will be nice and cosy when you go to bed,’ Verity murmured, and added, ‘My apologies for being so thoughtless.’

‘It’s all right,’ Katie assured her, ‘really it is. I’m fine.’

Xenia said, ‘I’ve been looking at one of the maps in the library, Verity, trying to plot the best route to Haworth on Saturday. I guess Harrogate then across to Ilkley and down to Keighley.’

‘I think you might be better off going from Harrogate to Skipton, but you can ask Rex tomorrow. He’ll give you the best route. He’s rather good at things like that.’

After this exchange, Verity poured herself a glass of champagne, then strolled over to the fireplace, stood in front of it.

Katie, watching her, thought she looked stunning in a long, red-wool skirt, cut straight and slender, worn with a red turtleneck cashmere sweater. A collection of gold chains hung around her neck; she wore gold hoop earrings and the many narrow gold bracelets which tinkled when she moved her right arm.

Katie thought that in contrast Xenia looked somewhat sombre in a dark-grey suit and matching sweater. Xenia wore no jewellery at all, which wasn’t like her, and she seemed out of sorts. She’s not her usual buoyant self, Katie decided, leaning back in the chair, observing her friend from the corner of her eye. It struck Katie that Xenia was sadder tonight than she had ever seen her, and she wondered why.

Verity lifted her champagne flute in the air. ‘Cheers,’ she said.

The other two women responded, also lifting their glasses.

After taking a sip of champagne, Verity said, ‘It’s rather dull here in the country, Katie, so I thought I might invite a few people for dinner on Saturday –’

‘Oh no, don’t do that!’ Xenia exclaimed, interrupting her.

Verity stared at Xenia, obviously puzzled.

Katie, turning from Verity to Xenia, recognized the expression of horror sliding across Xenia’s face, immediately understood that the idea of a dinner party appalled her.

Quickly, Katie interjected, ‘You don’t have to make a dinner party for me, Verity, although it’s very nice of you to think of doing so. I’m very happy to be alone with you and Xenia.’

‘All right. Then it will be just the four of us, since I’ve invited Rex to come over from York to spend the weekend with us.’

Ten minutes later the three women went downstairs for dinner. Verity led the way.

‘Thanks,’ Xenia whispered in Katie’s ear, as they followed their hostess down the stairs.

Katie nodded, smiled at her, but made no comment.

When they arrived in the grand front entrance hall, Verity took hold of Katie’s arm, led her across the floor. ‘There’s a formal dining room over there: it seats a hundred people. But we rarely use it these days. The smaller one is perfect for us, for family dinners,’ Verity explained. Opening the door, she ushered Katie inside.

Katie saw at once that it was a charming room, and quite unusual. Circular in shape, its walls were upholstered in red brocade and hung with beautiful classical landscape paintings. The round dining table, skirted in red taffeta, was teamed with three antique dining chairs, upholstered in black silk. Other matching chairs were placed against the walls; two flanked a sideboard, another one stood next to an inlaid wood chest. A crystal chandelier sparkled above the table, which was set with
four silver candlesticks holding white candles, standing around a bowl of dark-red flowers. Crystal goblets and silverware completed the setting.

A fire in the grate and the candlelight added to the cosy, welcoming feeling of the red dining room, which Katie was silently admiring.

‘Sit here,’ Xenia murmured, indicating a chair. ‘Verity always takes the middle chair.’

Katie did as she was told, and she was spreading the linen napkin on her knee when a door at the far end of the room opened.

A plump, grey-haired woman with apple-rosy cheeks, wearing a black dress and a white organdie apron, came into the room. Moving quickly, she went straight over to the sideboard and took a bottle of white wine from the ice bucket. ‘I thought I’d serve the wine now, m’lady.’

‘That’s fine, Dodie,’ Verity said. Glancing at Katie, she went on, ‘This is Dodie, who looks after us all so well. And Dodie, this is Miss Byrne.’

Dodie nodded, smiled. ‘Pleased to meet you, Madame, ’ she said, walked around the table and poured wine into Katie’s crystal goblet.

‘I’m pleased to meet you too, Dodie,’ Katie said. ‘Thank you.’

For a split second Dodie seemed unexpectedly flustered. She looked intently at Katie, then swiftly, almost jerkily, stepped back. She inclined her head politely, but she was no longer smiling.

Katie, staring at her retreating figure, couldn’t help wondering what had wrought the sudden change in the housekeeper’s demeanour. Dodie had backed away from her as if she had a bad smell.

Once Dodie had poured wine for Verity and Xenia, she returned the bottle to the silver ice bucket, and then left the dining room swiftly, closing the door quietly behind her.

Katie stared across the table at Xenia, instantly realized that her friend had noticed Dodie’s odd behaviour.

Xenia merely shrugged her shoulders, appeared baffled.

Verity, who missed nothing and had seen the change in Dodie, sat back in the chair, a thoughtful look settling on her face. ‘Dodie believes she’s psychic, Katie. From the way she acted, I think she picked up some vibes from you.’

‘But she behaved as though they were not good ones.’ Xenia gave Verity a knowing look. ‘She did sort of…well, back away from Katie.’

‘I’ve never been told I give off bad vibes!’ Katie exclaimed, and let out a forced laugh self-consciously. ‘Just the opposite.’

‘Don’t pay any attention,’ Verity murmured in a kindly tone. ‘I’ve known her since I was a child. She’s lived here all her life, and though she can be a little strange, she’s really quite harmless. Isn’t she, Xenia?’

‘Of course she is. She’s always been daft.’

They were interrupted by the sound of voices and
the clatter of dishes; almost immediately the door flew open again. A cook dressed in a chef’s white jacket and trousers came into the room carrying a large tray, and Dodie was with her.

Katie recognized Anya, Lavinia’s mother. She was tall, dark-haired and athletic, had a look of Lavinia, but was not quite as pretty as that younger version of herself.

Dodie took a small, white soufflé dish on a plate off the tray, placed it in front of Katie, then gave one to Xenia and one to Verity.

As the two women moved away from the table, Anya said, ‘This is the only way to serve, m’lady, what with Jarvis being off tonight.’

‘It’s not a problem, Anya.’

Anya nodded and left the dining room, and Dodie was quick to follow on her heels.

‘Anya makes the best soufflés,’ Xenia told Katie. ‘Eat it at once before it falls. Oh, and by the way, I asked Verity to order your favourite plaice and chips for the next course.’

Katie laughed, feeling at ease with them again, and dipped her fork into the soufflé.

It was almost midnight when Katie and Xenia made their way upstairs to bed. They hugged outside Katie’s room, and she said, ‘Thanks for inviting me up here, Xenia. Verity’s so nice…it’s been such a lovely evening.’

Xenia smiled at her. ‘Breakfast starts at eight and it’s
on the go until ten. So get up when you wish. It’s served in the garden room, and you’ll find it easily enough, if I’m not down. But I probably will be. There’s tea, coffee, rolls, and things like that already put out. But you can have a cooked breakfast if you prefer. You just have to ask. Jarvis will be hovering solicitously.’

Katie shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. We’ll both be getting fat up here, if we’re not careful.’

‘Only too true,’ Xenia agreed with a half smile.

Katie went into her room, closed the door, and locked it.

Xenia, standing outside in the corridor, heard the key turn as it had earlier that day. For a moment she hesitated, and then she lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

There was no response.

She knocked again.

Katie’s voice echoed through the door. ‘Yes? Who is it?’

‘It’s
me.
’ Xenia wondered who Katie could possibly think it was, if not her.

Katie turned the key and opened the door.

Xenia, staring at her intently, said a trifle sharply, ‘I don’t understand you. Jarvis may be off tonight, but he always goes around the house locking the outside doors. And even if he didn’t, Verity would. You have a ridiculous obsession about locking yourself in…it’s…
crazy.
’

‘No, I don’t!’ Katie exclaimed heatedly. ‘It’s just a habit, I guess. And I’m not crazy.’

Fractionally, Xenia hesitated, and then she said, ‘Can I come in for a minute? I want to talk to you. Or would you prefer to talk in my room? There are other pictures there you could peer at.’ Suddenly, her voice had an edge to it.

Katie felt herself flushing and she shook her head, said with vehemence, ‘I wasn’t prying, Xenia.
I wasn’t.
And I’m so sorry you’re upset. I just happened to notice the picture of Tim and the little boy…’ Her voice trailed off helplessly. She was at a loss.

‘I know, I know,’ Xenia muttered, and pushed the door, walked purposefully into the room. ‘I wouldn’t have invited you up here to Burton Leyburn if I’d wanted to hide my past. I was going to tell you certain things tomorrow. But before I got the chance, you saw the photograph, which I’d forgotten was there on the chest in the Great High Chamber –’

Cutting herself off, Xenia closed the door behind her, looked keenly at Katie. ‘Do you mind? Can I stay for a few minutes? Talk to you, Katie?’

‘Yes, of course. And you don’t have to tell me anything. You’re my friend, I care about you, and I certainly wouldn’t pry into your past. It must be painful for you…to discuss.’

Xenia sat down in one of the chairs. She bent forward, put her head on her knees, sat immobile like that for
a few minutes. Eventually, she straightened, took a number of deep breaths. Then she began, ‘Justin was six when it happened. Tim was taking him to Harrogate. It was June, not winter, not bad weather. No rain. It was a fine, sunny day. No reason for a huge lorry to skid, to go out of control. But it did.’

Xenia stopped abruptly, compressed her lips, screwed her eyes shut and looked up at the ceiling. Her hands were clenched into fists, and her body trembled. Taking deep breaths, she swallowed hard, pushing back the tears. She was so choked up she could not speak. Finally, she opened her eyes. ‘The lorry slammed into the car. They were killed instantly. My husband, my son. Nine years ago. I suppose I still haven’t…got over it…so sorry…to break down like this.’

Xenia pressed her fingers to her eyes as the tears leaked out, slipped through her fingers, slid down her cheeks.

Katie went to her, knelt on the floor next to her knees and encircled Xenia with her arms. ‘I’m sorry, I’m so very sorry. You didn’t have to tell me…’

Without saying a word, Xenia clung to Katie, held onto her very tightly, trying to regain her composure. After a while she did so, and released Katie from her grip; she groped in her pocket for a tissue. After blowing her nose, she said quietly, ‘As long as I don’t talk about it, I’m all right.’ She cleared her throat, went on, ‘I can function fairly well these days…Is that the way it is for you?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s often struck me that there’s some sort of tragedy in
your
past, Katie. And that you don’t talk about it, so you can get on with a relatively normal life. As I try to do.’

Katie sat down heavily in the other chair.

She did not answer at first. Then finally, she replied: ‘I suppose so. I haven’t been able to talk about…what happened. Not for years, not without falling apart. But I think about it every day. It never leaves me.’

‘I know. Can you tell
me
about it?’

Katie sat quietly in the chair, trying to marshal her thoughts so that she could speak coherently about the murderous attack on her girlfriends in Malvern long ago.

Part of her balked at dredging up the past, speaking out loud about it to Xenia, because it was painful for her to do this even now, years later.

She lived with the memories of Carly and Denise on a daily basis, and they were forever with her. It was usually in that quiet time just before she fell asleep, or was fully awake in the morning, that their faces were most vivid in her mind’s eye. She had never forgotten them or what had happened, but to recount everything to Xenia would almost be like living through it all over again.

Yet, in a sense, she was boxed in, because Xenia had been so open with
her
about the untimely deaths of Tim and Justin. Katie felt that if she did not confide about her own past the relationship between them would somehow be damaged, and irretrievably so. And that was the last thing she wanted.

Xenia was the first real friend she had made in all these years, and she was important to her. In many ways, Xenia had stepped into the gap left by Denise and Carly; certainly no one else had ever been able to fill it.

Tell her about it, a small voice at the back of her head whispered. Tell her everything. Maybe it will help you if you unburden yourself.

Leaning forward slightly, her hands clasped together, Katie took what was a giant leap for her, when she said: ‘It all happened when I was seventeen.’

She paused for a split second, staring off into the distance, then quickly brought her eyes back to Xenia, adding, ‘It was in October of 1989. Exactly ten years ago.’

Xenia simply nodded. She sensed that Katie had an upsetting tale to tell, and deemed it wiser not to say one word, lest it put her off. But she shivered involuntarily, intuitively knowing that she was about to hear something awful. Sinking further down in the armchair, she focused her attention entirely on Katie.

‘When you and I first met two years ago, I told you that I had always wanted to be an actress since I was a child. What I didn’t tell you was that I had two friends who harboured the same ambitions, Carly Smith and Denise Matthews. The three of us had been friends since we were little. We were the same age. We grew up together, went to the same kindergarten, the same high school, lived in the same area around the little town
of Malvern in northwestern Connecticut. We planned to go to New York when we were eighteen, to attend the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. We were going to live with Aunt Bridget, who had a loft in Tribeca in those days, until we became accustomed to New York and the academy. Then she was going to find an apartment for the three of us to share. We were inseparable…everyone knew that, knew how close we were.’

Katie stopped, appeared to hesitate.

Xenia said quickly, ‘Go on, Katie, I’m listening.’

Slowly, and with great care and deliberation, Katie continued her story. She told Xenia about the old barn and how Denise’s Uncle Ted had let them use it. She spoke of the years the three of them had spent rehearsing there, and of the school concerts every Christmas. Until finally she was recounting the events of that fateful day in October of 1989.

She explained how she had left the barn early that day, gone home to help her mother, had remembered later that she had left her bag of school books behind, and had returned with her brother to retrieve them. And then she told Xenia about the disarray in the barn, the missing girls, and how she and Niall had searched for them.

‘It was Carly I saw first, lying there in the wood, her face covered in blood,’ Katie said, her voice shaking more than ever. ‘But Niall found a pulse, and she was alive, and I was so happy,
relieved.
He left me with Carly, went off to look for Denise…’ Katie paused, took
several deep breaths to steady herself. ‘Poor Denise…She was dead, Xenia. Raped and strangled.’

‘Oh my God!’ Xenia’s eyes were wide with horror as she stared at Katie. ‘To be struck down like that, both so young, with their lives stretching ahead of them. How terrible for them, and for you, Katie.’ She shook her head. ‘And what about Carly? She did live, didn’t she?’

‘Oh yes –’

‘So she was able to point a finger…identify the attacker.’

‘No, no, she couldn’t. Carly never regained consciousness. She went into a coma.’

For a moment Xenia seemed uncomprehending, and she threw Katie a puzzled look, frowning. ‘And she never came out of it? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘That’s right. Carly has been in a coma for the last ten years. She’s in a hospital in Connecticut.’ Katie’s mouth trembled, and her eyes filled suddenly with tears. She brushed them away with both hands, took hold of herself and added, ‘But she’s also dead, in a certain sense. Lost to us all, trapped in the coma.’

Xenia sat back, not speaking for a moment. At last she murmured softly, sympathetically, ‘I’m so very sorry, Katie darling. So dreadfully sorry this happened to you. What a heartbreaking thing for you to bear. Did the police catch the murderer?’

‘No, they didn’t. It’s an unsolved case. Mac MacDonald, the detective in charge of the major crime squad in the Litchfield area, has never closed the case. It’s still open,
it’s still on the books
, that’s the way
he
puts it.’

‘So you’re in touch with him about the case even now?’

‘I’m not, but my father and he went to school together. Ever since they met again, through the…the murder, they’ve become close friends. Mac believes something will happen, come to light, and that he’ll solve the case one day. Dad says it really bugs him that he was never able to arrest the murderer at the time.’

‘Why didn’t he?’

‘Because he didn’t know who it was. Mac told my father that it was a really bad crime scene, no clues at all. The Medical Examiner did get DNA samples off Denise’s body, but they were of no use.’

‘Whyever not? I thought DNA samples helped to solve crimes,’ Xenia asserted.

‘That’s true, yes. But you have to have a suspect to match to the DNA samples. And if you don’t, all you’ve got are…DNA samples.’

‘So no one was ever suspected or caught.’

‘That’s right. According to Dad, Mac has always thought that it was someone who knew us. A man who more than likely was leading a very normal life. On the surface. But one who was a psychopath in reality. A man who stalked us, targeted us…the three of us.’

‘But he only got two of you, and that’s why you’re so afraid.’

Katie could only nod.

Xenia muttered, ‘No wonder you’re always locking doors.’

‘At first, just after the murder happened, it made me feel safer, and then it did truly become a habit,’ Katie responded. ‘You see, my parents were certain there was somebody out there watching me, waiting for an opportunity to get me. In a way they were torn about what to do…they wanted me to be with them in Malvern, so they could protect me, watch over me. Yet at the same time, they wanted to get me out of the area.’

‘I fully understand that,’ said Xenia, clasping her hands, leaning forward. ‘It’s a very natural reaction. And is that why you went to live with Bridget in New York?’

‘Yes. But I didn’t leave home immediately, I stayed on in Malvern until I was nineteen,’ Katie explained. ‘For one thing, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be an actress any more. Not without Carly and Denise. It didn’t seem to be the same. I thought that acting was tainted, because of their deaths. And anyway, the spark had gone out of me. I felt so guilty because
I’d
talked them into going to the barn that day, and I’d left early. Left them alone. If I’d been there, perhaps we could have fought him off, and maybe the outcome would have been different.’

‘Survivor guilt,’ Xenia ventured softly. ‘I know all about
that
, and only too well. I was supposed to go with Tim and Justin to Harrogate that morning in June, but I changed my mind at the last minute. I stayed here to help Jarvis sort stuff in one of the storage rooms. And that’s why I’m alive and they’re dead. I’ve always felt that I should be dead too, you know.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m alive because of a pile of old junk.’

Katie nodded her understanding. ‘As I just said, the spark had gone out of me, and I discovered I couldn’t act any more. It was literally impossible for me to walk on a stage. I had developed the worst kind of stage fright. I just shook all the time and my legs trembled. The year the attack happened, I dropped out of the Christmas concert at school. I’d been going to do the soliloquy from
Hamlet
, but I just couldn’t. That’s what I’d been rehearsing the day they were attacked. Anyway, I guess I retreated into…a shell.’

‘And how did you manage to pull yourself out of it?’

‘I didn’t, not really. It was my mother who dragged me up from the depths of despair. She was wonderful. She insisted I go to New York and enrol in the academy, and she came with me to hold my hand. She stayed with Bridget and me for a few months, and slowly I began to enjoy classes. I also managed to shed some of my fear.’

‘But not all of it?’ Xenia lifted a brow quizzically.

‘No. I did get a bit paranoid at one point, and I was
always looking over my shoulder. I guess it’s never gone away completely…the fear. Nor has the idea that I was the only one who escaped. Mac thinks that he, the perp as he calls him, may have moved out of the area, gone far away to avoid eventual capture. I want to believe Mac’s right. Besides, New York is a big city.’

‘It is indeed, but you
are
an actress, Katie, and bound to be seen, and known, in the limelight, so –’ Xenia immediately cut herself off, shaking her head. ‘I suppose I don’t have to tell you anything, do I?’

‘No, you don’t,’ Katie answered. ‘And I do sometimes worry about being up there on a stage…a target, a sitting duck.’

‘Is that the reason you’ve turned down so many big parts?’

‘I honestly don’t think so. The ones Melanie Dawson offered me certainly weren’t right. All wrong for me, in fact, and her husband Harry agreed.’

‘You’re not hesitating about taking the part in
Charlotte and Her Sisters
for that reason are you…the fear, I mean?’

‘I don’t think so…I just don’t know, to be honest,’ Katie admitted ruefully. She rose, walked over to the tall, mullioned window and looked out across the gardens. It was dark and she could barely see anything.

The velvet-black sky was littered with crystal stars and high up, in one corner, there was a crescent moon. It was a friendly sky, benign.

Turning around, walking back to the chair, Katie continued, ‘What happened ten years ago has really affected my life, Xenia, changed me in so many ways. It’s made me a bit paranoid, admittedly, and even afraid. For a time it turned me off acting. And men. Still, I did come back to acting. I do get a lot of satisfaction from performing.’

‘But you’re still very wary of men, that I do know.’

Katie nodded, made no response.

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but Grant Miller is not for you. I know he’s a wonderful actor, but he’s just not up to snuff, not good enough for you.’

‘Oh I know. And it’s over, at least as far as I’m concerned.’

‘Does Grant know that?’

‘I’ve tried to tell him, and I made it very obvious when he came to London six months ago. I hope it’s sunk in, that he won’t be pestering me if I go back.’

‘I hope you take this part. It’ll be the making of you, Katie. I feel this deep down…call it…gut instinct.’

‘I want to do the play, Xenia, as long as I can master the character of Emily,’ Katie admitted. ‘Because I want to succeed. Not just for me, but for them. For Carly and Denise…they wanted to be actresses so much, so I want to do it for them as well as for myself. Being on Broadway…well, you know, it was their
dream as well as mine. Do you understand what I mean?’

‘I do. I think you’re very brave.’