Unbind (47 page)

“One day… if we can get rid of
him
. Then, we can escape.”

“Oh.” His voice dejected, he wondered whether the conversation was veering dangerously off topic.

“Jennifer used to make all our clothes… she sold to stalls all over London, too. She bought me paper and pencils with the proceeds of her sales. Her clothes… were great. Word got about and eventually she was selling stuff to everyone. We were only young then, 14 and 15. One day she came home with this man called Willem Häuser, an entrepreneur. He wanted to sell some of her things.”

“Was the man foreign?” Cai asked, turning to gauge her eyes.

“He had a German or Swiss accent, I don’t know.” She seemed unclear about that, nodding in vague remembrance. “He had stores in London and New York, a design school associated with his brand. He wanted Jennifer to train with his firm and learn to be a proper dressmaker. The only thing was, our mother hated the thought of Jennifer leaving and going on to success. She said Jennifer couldn’t go.”

“That sucks, so what happened?”

“We waited until Jennifer turned 16, then we left together, working for Willem, the both of us. It was Jenny’s express wish that I be trained, too, although I was somewhat dragged along. A few years later, we heard our mother had remarried… our father’s brother, Chester. They somehow reconnected… the rest, history. Jenny occasionally went back home to visit our mother but I never did.”

Cai liked hearing stories and wanted to know more. “So, how did you discover you loved painting?”

“Willem liked to paint and taught me in his spare time. I’d drawn since forever, so it was natural. I got introduced to lots of Willem’s friends and we did retreats… they taught me a lot, but I knew how to draw and paint like Mozart knew piano. I couldn’t explain it but I just loved it. While I started painting more, Jennifer opened her own shop and her designs got noticed. However, later on when she was mid-twenties, she started getting the same thing our mother suffered from. It’s called rheumatoid arthritis and makes your joints very poorly. All her years of sewing might have advanced it… and that’s when she started branching out into brands, marketing, things like that.

“Jenny was always so encouraging… so proud I got into the Royal College of Art because of all these artists helping me… I could sculpt and draw, paint and… I read a lot about art history.”

“You didn’t stay on, though?” Cai knew this already, somehow.

“No. I inherited this place. I was needed here and I moved.”

“Who died first? Grandma or your Uncle Chester?”

“Oh, they died together in a car accident.”

Past

ONE DAY IN late September, 2000, Philippe Cortez did something out of character. Despite the fact he was wanted by the FBI, his brothers and some other cartel leaders who’d put a price on his head, he left
Sub Rosa
to head out for a drive, just to escape that house. He and Claudia had argued over a lot of things that day, the first being her sister Jennifer. Ever since Caius had contacted Jennifer, the long-lost sister had been constantly calling and emailing Claire, asking for information. Jennifer had just decided to take up a new position—assistant editor at
Frame
in New York—with the sisterly hope that she and Claudia might reconnect somehow.

So when Philippe chased off in the Lincoln that day, it was no surprise to Claire and Dirk when the police called to let them know that the vehicle had left the road in wet conditions. Did he write the suicide note? Or did someone else? Did he even die?

CLAUDIA spent two weeks implementing her plan. It had always been The Plan. Now was the time. She felt an incredible peace knowing she was regaining control.

Her last work. Always, the last. It was important to finally finish it, so she could rest easier knowing she had at least gotten one version of it out there. She’d spent so many years trying to complete it, but it was always ripped apart just at the last minute.

During the period since Philippe’s death, she thought a lot about her sister, Jennifer. The two of them used to be so close and now she knew she was heading for her end, her mind went back to all that had transpired between them, namely Willem Häuser. The man had been obsessed with Claudia but she’d never reciprocated any of that devotion. On the other hand, Jennifer loved Willem with a mad, unrelenting passion that made no sense because he didn’t have any interest in Jennifer… besides her designs. The sisters fell out because of that disparity and when Claudia moved to
Sub Rosa,
taking a lover finally, Willem, Claudia and Jennifer all drifted apart.

So, she spent two weeks planning her own death. She’d already put the finishing touches to her artwork
and her next job was writing the suicide note. Predictable as ever, Jennifer showed up one morning with a mind to fix things between them—now Philippe was gone.

Jennifer knocked on Claudia’s locked bedroom door—Claudia inwardly cursing Claire and Dirk for giving the woman hospitality. She’d happily hid up there for almost two weeks, living off packs of biscuits and bottles of wine she’d had hidden beneath the bed.

“Claude, I’m here. Come on, now he’s gone, what’s stopping us being close again?”

The fact I am content in killing myself.

Very soon, in fact
.

When Claudia first became locked in that house with only a narcotics sideline and her failure as an artist for company, Jennifer used to telephone and warn that unless Claudia threw him out, she’d eventually regret the day. 

Philippe, with his own chaos, was the only one who’d made her feel less dirty. Now, with him gone, what she had in mind was a clear purpose to end something that was no good. She could see no other way out whatsoever. The terrors of her mind were always chasing her tail and always would be. She considered all her options and knew The Plan was her only option.

After refusing to open up, Claudia determined that Jennifer went downstairs to the kitchen, speaking with Claire and Dirk for some time. The suicide note written, there was nothing else to achieve.

Except maybe that she wanted to look good to go. So she had a wash in the sink, brushed her hair, put on some make-up, and pulled on one of her nicer shirts and a skirt that didn’t look a hundred years old.

Not long later the key she had in the lock was pushed out and another opened the door.

There Jennifer stood, dressed in some garish suit, her hair finely styled.

“How’s you?” she asked so breezily.

“I have been better,” Claudia admitted.

Jennifer let herself in the room, never standing on ceremony. She’d gotten where she was from never standing back, always making herself known. She wore the gloves she always wore, but few knew why she really set that trend.

“He was no good for you so maybe now you can start again, properly launch yourself as an artist. Help Cai find a school, open this house to visitors or something… so you can pay for some repairs on this poor, neglected home.”

“Maybe you could launch yourself,” Claudia responded mockingly, “off the same bridge as Philippe.”

Jennifer sucked in breath. “I don’t know how you ended up becoming so lost, so underused. You were once… immense. I looked up to you.”

“That’s touching, Jennifer,” Claudia gritted out, the plan disintegrating before her very eyes. The sight of her little sister, annoyingly revitalising. 

Jennifer spoke softly, calmly. “I can help you, now. Let me. I have so many connections, we can make you a success. I want to help.”

Claudia remained unreadable. “I don’t want help. First rule… you’ve got to want to
be
helped. I know… as clear as I see you now… my son is better off without me. I know it.”

Jennifer pinched the bridge of her nose. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” Claudia watched as those two words broke her little sister’s heart, but they were words she was sure of.
I do: I mean it.

“I’ve missed you so much… but you and Willem broke my heart. You
left.
You came here… and for what? To start again?”

Claudia refused to fall for this sob story. “You’ve done alright for yourself. Don’t give me that. You’ve done fine without me.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Even so, I’ve sold my soul to beat everyone else… only when I get to the top might I be able to regain something of
me
, you know.”

“Sold your soul? Don’t make me laugh.” Claudia begged, disbelief still gripping her throat like an iron fist.
You don’t know what it means to sell your soul
.

Jennifer nodded, a hand running through the thick fringe she’d given herself. “Hmm. Bitched, clawed, stabbed… many people in the back. To get where I’m going… right to the top. To the top, Claudia. I’ve only got one more step to close in on ’til then.”

“That’s nice. I’m glad to know you’ve had such a
hard
life. Getting to your pedestal… I’m sure it’ll be a triumphant day for you.” Claudia forced a smile.

“How did you become…
this
? This…” Jennifer didn’t seem to be able to find a word for it.

Claudia eyed her sister with a sinister grin. “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Jennifer, so don’t come over all high and mighty. I’m still the elder sister even though you think you know everything about life.”

Jennifer suppressed a nervous laugh, some truth hitting home. She didn’t know Claudia like she used to. Those days, whatever they were, they were gone. Days when they were girls, when they shared a table full of patterns and papers, ideas and hopes.

Perhaps Claudia grew up knowing how to function as a sound member of society, but had lost that ability somewhere along the way. As it stood now, she was a lost cause.

Jennifer told Claudia wearily, “If you’d only let me in your life, then maybe I’d know you again. I’d be able to help my sister… if only she opened up to me.”

“Do you want to know the truth or are you here just to try and save my soul? I think there are a few things I need to tell you,” Claudia advised and Jennifer nodded, a small smile on her face.

Don’t smile. You won’t be smiling in a minute
, thought Claudia.

Claudia gestured to the other woman, “I could do with a drink so we’ll go down to the drawing room and talk there.”

They left the bedroom, heading down calmly. Jennifer hadn’t noticed that Claudia had stolen a pistol from her dresser, stashing it in the pocket of her generous skirt.

Jennifer refused a drink but Claudia took a scotch just to take the edge off. They sat in the window seat together and Jennifer remarked, “You’re still pretty.”

Claudia knew she was and ignored this totally, sniffing indifferently.

The elder sister began, “I want to ask you… if you were to guess why Father left us, what would be your understanding of that?”

Jennifer stared blankly and responded, “He had an affair and Mum found out?”

She really thought it was as simple as that, yet Jennifer was functioning in the world while Claudia wasn’t. Most probably, the younger sister didn’t even know a small per cent of the real truth.

“I want to tell you a story now and I want you to listen. You need to know the truth.” Claudia shifted uncomfortably and breathed deeply, more raggedly. A rash crept up her neck.

“I was walking home from a friend’s house one day. I was 11, you were ten. I spotted Father’s car outside a house in Baker Street. You remember that E-type Jag he had? He never could fit anything but himself and his medical bag in that thing. His pride and joy. I remember standing in the street and staring for I don’t know how long. It wasn’t a neighbourhood he knew anybody in, as far as I knew. I assumed he was carrying out his rounds perhaps, you know? The old ladies who couldn’t make it to his surgery? I talked myself out of my suspicions and started to walk home, passing on the other side of the street with the whole intention of going straight there.”

Claudia looked from her lap straight into Jennifer’s green eyes and knew her younger sister probably wouldn’t believe a word of what she was about to say. It was superfluous, but better said than not.