Unbind (46 page)

SEPTEMBER 2000 arrived and with it, the internet. Claire discovered it would be a great tool with which to teach Cai and after some convincing, Philippe allowed this newfangled service to be installed alongside a set of computer equipment. (Cai still wondered where the new money was coming from). The only downside was that the PC was password protected, at Philippe’s command. When their lessons began, however, Claire was often slow to enter the password on the keys and one day Cai noted down what it was.

Creeping down to the study one night to use the PC, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to his aunt. He had seen Claire using the computer and knew how to get to webmail sites and felt sure he could do this—and somehow get away with it. He found Jennifer on the
Elle
website and set up an email account without trouble.

Cai discovered Jennifer was only contactable through an assistant so he noted down the assistant’s email address and wrote this message:

Dear Miss Johnson,

I believe you are my aunt’s assistant? Well, I am Caius Cortez, her nephew. I am enquiring about some possible work experience next year? I am interested in photography and it would be great to spend some time with my aunt, whom I have never met. My mother talks of her all the time. Will you forward this on for me?

Kindest regards,

Cai

Convinced he sounded professional and cordial, Cai pressed
send
as quickly as his finger would let him. When he heard the unmistakable sound of Dirk’s footsteps coming down the hall, he quickly deleted his sent items and the trash, shut down his email account and logged off the PC. Dirk poked his head around the door when Cai showed himself, explaining, “I thought I left a book down here, but I can’t find it.”

“Cai, it’s three in the morning. I thought we had a burglar. Even your parents are in bed.”

“Sorry,” the young man said sheepishly, though he still felt sure he was going to get away with it. The following night he crept down again but was so careful to ensure he didn’t step on even one creaky floorboard.

He checked his emails and sure enough, discovered Jennifer herself had emailed him back, not the assistant! It read:

Dear Cai,

How nice to hear from you! What a surprise! Of course work experience would be possible for my only nephew.

To tell you the truth, your mother and I haven’t spoken in many years and I’m genuinely surprised you mailed me.
Genuinely
. I’m sure you know that a woman as busy as me has lots of post to open but your message caught my attention!

I’ll certainly be in touch.

Yours,

Jennifer

It struck Cai as odd that the tone revealed Jennifer thought of herself as estranged from Claudia even though his mother raved about her sister on and on and on. He had the sudden feeling that something had happened between his aunt and mother that he had no comprehension of—and possibly, it even went beyond Philippe’s intervention.

Cai went to bed that night feeling very pleased with himself. He congratulated himself on being very clever.

He woke up to discover he had caused a lot of harm, however.

When he went down for breakfast, he found his father waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs with a stern, cold expression that was easy to read.

“Kitchen now, son,” he gestured, and grabbed the boy by the back of his neck to direct him right there.

The door shut and he found Claire and Dirk also waiting with the same consternation gripping them.

“Your aunt sent these this morning,” Philippe said, pointing at a bouquet of roses on the worktable in the centre of the room. Cai gulped. “Your mother saw them when she came down to get some tomato juice for her Bloody Mary… and now she’s taken ill.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Was he meant to say something?

He gulped again, trying not to say anything. Maybe if he kept quiet they would never know it was him. Then again, why would a bunch of roses have this effect on his mother?

“Doesn’t Mom like roses, Dad?”

“She doesn’t, son. She hates the damn things. Those paintings are created right out of a nightmare. Hell… god knows why
she
got in touch after all this time.”

Cai looked at Dirk who seemed to suspect him but the old man shook his head, telling the youngster not to admit a thing.

“How ill is she?”

“We need to be very careful and make sure she doesn’t try to hurt herself. If you see her wandering round, you need to let one of us know, okay? I locked her door but she may well try to escape.”

All my fault. It is all my fault.

But why would Jennifer send roses if his mother hated them?

A few frightening days passed when Cai didn’t really know what to do for the best. Help? Or just stay in his room and read books? He wanted to know what was going on more than anything else in the world. He wanted to know about the secrets these people were trying to keep.

Eventually he got the feeling that his mother was better so he breathed a sigh of relief but didn’t show it. Instead of risking the PC again, he decided to go on a mission.

So one evening, while he was supposed to be in bed, he took himself off to the secret hole in the dining room wall and waited, very patiently. If his mother was back on her feet, he knew they would be up to their usual antics. Just after midnight, as was common once they got their festivities out of the way, his parents entered. A clatter of plates on the table signified they were eating. Midnight feasting—probably whatever they found in the refrigerator. When Cai pressed his ear to the relatively thin wood of the hidden hole, he could hear everything they said.

In the bleak dark, he waited for something. Anything.

“It does not please me to do those things for you,” he said in a rushed voice.

“I know. Sorry. Doesn’t seem to be any other way, though,” Claudia replied.

“Would you like for me to get you something to numb the pain?” He gestured at her poor hands and wrists, red from being bound.

“No, I’m fine. This is nothing.” His mother and father conversed in their usual distant manner.

“You should get to bed,” he ordered in a tired voice.

“But I want to help and do my duties.”

“If you must, then.”

Cai heard them munching for a few minutes longer before his father said, “If Jennifer’s trouble, we’ll just get rid of her. No biggie.”

“The bitch better stay out of our way,” Claudia said. “The boy didn’t know what he was doing, did he?”

“It’s dealt with, anyway. C’mon, let’s get to work.”

But you love Jennifer
…

Cai felt terrified but intrigued beyond measure. They pushed their chairs back and walked off into the corridor.
Get to work?
They didn’t work!

To escape his hiding place Cai had to give the door a slight shove, so he waited a moment and then launched himself out. Once out in the corridor, he followed the sounds of their voices.

The noise took him to the basement where nobody usually ventured except to retrieve liquor, which had never interested Cai in the slightest.

He peeped his head around the door and spotted laboratory equipment. Along one, long worktable were rectangular bags of white powder, ready to be distributed. No doubt, heroin. He hid behind the door for as long as he dared and despite the hour and his earlier fatigue, now found himself wide awake… his adrenalin pumping.

You bastards, you bastards
. This was how they funded their lifestyle, their filthy habits. This filled in the blanks and explained why so many women were drawn to this house—for more than just his father’s body.

He wondered where they got the stuff from until he saw a pile of discarded, rubber-tipped opium heads rotting in a crate in the corner.

“This year’s crop was pretty great, huh?” His father’s cocky, self-satisfied voice rang out clearly.

“Not too shabby,” Claudia said mechanically.

Cai chanced another peek around the corner and saw her weighing and packing the goods. She didn’t see Cai but somehow he knew his luck was running out, so he left them there and headed to his room, tiptoeing all the way.

A mere two weeks after Cai discovered his parent’s were farming drugs in the basement, something seemed to have changed. Something in the air. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but even Claire and Dirk were much quieter and moodier than usual. Something was happening behind the scenes and he had no idea what. He only knew it seemed to have been sparked by Jennifer and whispers of her presence out there, in the world.

Nobody had ever treated Cai badly. His father often spoke to him coarsely and pushed him around a bit, but Philippe had never thumped or punched his son. Neither had anyone else in that house. The worst crime he could think of them having committed, really, were all the lies that he could almost smell but never quite taste.

The lies were about to get a whole lot worse.

Cai knew his curiosity might undo him but he needed to know something. Why did his mother speak so highly of Jennifer to his face, but when she mentioned her to his father, it was as though the sisters were actually worst enemies?

He went to her room and found Claudia stood by the easel, a brush in her hand, poised to cast the first stroke. He watched her for several minutes, stood with the brush, not moving. As he moved closer he saw the thin pencil sketch she’d done, ready to be filled in. His footsteps suddenly made her scrunch the large canvas up and throw it at the fireplace.

She turned in a rush, her eyes wide like saucers. “Caius, you startled me. Don’t you know, my work is sacred. Nobody sees my work.”

“Sorry, I didn’t… I forgot. I apologise,” he said, trying to appeal to her motherly side.

“It’s okay, let’s sit by the window.”

He sat at her feet, her hands stroking his hair, their eyes trained on the burnished yellow leaves of Fall outside.

“Tell me about Aunt Jennifer,” he said, and she smiled like it was the first time he’d ever asked.

“Oh, your Aunt Jennifer,” she said with glee, “you’d like her. She’s the best sister in the world.”

“Yeah?” he glanced over his shoulder, watching as an honest smile spread across her pretty face.

“Oh, yes.”

“Has Dad ever met her?”

“Oh, no.” Her voice calm, jovial even, he still knew he needed to be careful in what he said. However, he couldn’t help himself.

“Why doesn’t she visit? I’d like to meet her.”

“Your father wouldn’t allow it. He thinks Aunt Jennifer only reminds me of the past.”

“The past?”

“Hmm. I don’t have a nice past, Cai.”

“Was someone mean to you?” He attempted to seem naïve like she sometimes seemed to be. He never was naïve; not growing up there.

“They were,” she offered freely.

“But… Aunt Jennifer, she was nice?”

“Oh yes, she was never nasty. Not to anyone. She was the best sister in the whole world.”

“I wish so much to meet her, do you think I will one day?”