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Chapter 22

‘I don’t wanna stay at Auntie Miranda’s,’ Jack whined, halfway along the M40.

Kate twisted round in the passenger seat to see Jack’s sulky red face and downturned mouth. She and Paul had decided there was no further reason to be in Salisbury, after the visit to Sarah’s mother, and were instead heading north.

‘Oh Jack, you’ll have such a great time. Auntie Miranda told me that you’re going to go horse-riding and strawberry picking, and you can play in the sprinkler every day. Your cousins can’t wait to see you.’

‘Well, I can wait to see them,’ he huffed in reply, but Kate could tell that he was slightly mollified all the same. She shot a guilty look at Paul, who was driving. Yes, it was undoubtedly far less boring for Jack to be with his cousins than trailing round the countryside with her and Paul – but she couldn’t help feeling as if she was off-loading him for her own more selfish reasons . . . Paul smiled back at her, and she tried to dismiss the guilt. Miranda had moved house from the address that she’d been at for years – there was little chance of Vernon finding her new address; and she’d instructed Miranda not to reply to any emails from him. Jack should be perfectly safe with her.

‘Are we nearly there yet, Mummy?’

‘I think we must be, honey. We have to come off this motorway at Junction ten, and we’ve just passed Junction nine.’

‘Good. Because I’m bored and Billy’s thirsty . . . Mummy?’

‘Yes, Jack?’

‘Can I call Dad?’

Kate glanced at Paul again, in panic this time. She’d been dreading this request since they arrived in England. ‘Um, honey, I think Daddy’s on holiday too at the moment.’

‘I can call his cellphone. I know the number.’

‘I know you do, which is very clever of you. But . . . I don’t think his phone will work outside America. And anyway, it’s only ten o’clock here, which means it’s the middle of the night where Daddy is.’

‘I want to leave him a message. Why didn’t he take me on vacation? If he’s not in America it won’t be the middle of the night, will it? Where has he gone, anyway?’

Not the British Isles, please, Kate thought, although without much hope. She knew him well enough to suspect he’d jumped on the first available plane when he realised what she had done. She had texted him to say Jack was safe, and not to look for them – but it wouldn’t have made any difference. Since then she had kept her phone firmly switched off and hadn’t even turned it on to check her messages. Her fear that Vern would snatch Jack back again was so deep and overpowering that she couldn’t even allow herself to think about it. She might lose Jack for good. Hopefully, Vern would calm down, given time, and they could sort out access then. Just not now, when it was pride and spite that would be motivating his every action.

‘Oh, honey, I’m not exactly sure. And you know what? I think his cellphone is broken, because I tried to call it yesterday but it didn’t even ring.’ She winced at the blatant lie. ‘Anyhow, look, here’s the signpost for Junction Ten! We must be almost there. Let me just check the directions, so we don’t get lost on the way to the house.’

Miranda and her husband Pete’s house was a rambling, ramshackle Victorian pile on the edge of Churchill, a very picturesque Cotswolds village, with amazing views out over open countryside. Pete was a vet, and had just taken over the village practice, and Miranda was a self-confessed ‘professional home-maker’. Kate noted that her sister still appeared to live in the same old green wellies and shabby cardigan she’d had for years. Nobody would ever have guessed that they were sisters. Kate’s hair was chestnut brown and curly, and Miranda’s light brown and straight. Miranda’s eyes were brown, Kate’s blue. Kate was four inches taller and two stone slimmer. Miranda had absolutely no interest in science, but knew everything about how to grow perfect tomatoes; whereas Kate couldn’t even keep Busy Lizzies alive.

As they walked into the kitchen, Kate noticed Paul looking incredulously between her and her sister, and she grinned. Luckily she had forewarned Miranda on the telephone that she’d be turning up with Jack, and a man who was not her husband, in tow.

‘We’ve only been here four months. I’m so glad you managed to see it before we start renovating. It’s what you Yanks call a “fixer-upper”, isn’t that right?’ said Miranda, proudly gesturing to high-ceilinged rooms which flaked plaster as if suffering from psoriasis. ‘Lord knows when we’ll get around to it, with Pete working the sort of hours he is. I hope you’ll be able to stay for lunch, so you get to see him too? He said he’d try and pop back after his morning surgery.’

‘We’d love to – but we might have to make tracks soon. We’ve got a lot to do in a couple of days. Oh, and by the way, I’m not a bloody Yank!’ said Kate, jokingly. She was privately wondering how on earth Miranda could bear to bring up children in a dump like this. Yes, it would be incredible when it was finished – but it was going to take years. ‘The house is great, Manda. And thanks again so much for having Jack to stay. He’s been so excited about seeing his cousins.’

Another lie, thought Kate. All these little tiny lies knotting together in a ball. She pictured it like a ball of rubber bands, the lies getting bigger and bigger, stretching further and further around the ball. How many more times was she going to have to lie to Jack about his dad, and why he couldn’t speak to him?

‘Gosh, I haven’t been called Manda for years!’ Miranda exclaimed, smiling. ‘It’s good to see you, sis. I’m sorry I haven’t been better about keeping in touch.’

Kate felt guilty, and sad that she and her sister weren’t closer. But they had always had such different personalities, and it hadn’t helped that she didn’t really care much for her brother-in-law Pete. And Miranda couldn’t stand Vernon.

Later, Paul went out to play Swingball in the garden with Jack and his cousins, and Kate and Miranda were able to have a more private chat on the terrace, sipping Miranda’s homemade elderflower cordial; ice-cubes in the shapes of strawberries clinking around in the tall glasses. It was a beautiful summer’s morning, and the sounds of the countryside were all around – birds singing, cows mooing in a field nearby, a tractor rolling down the lane by the side of the house. For the first time, Kate envied her sister’s uncomplicated family life.

‘So it’s all over between you and Vernon. Is it because of –?’ Miranda gestured towards Paul, who was rolling around on the grass with Jack squealing and romping on top of him and the other two standing nearby looking as if they were longing to join in, but too shy to do so.

‘Oh, no, definitely not! I’ve only just hooked up with Paul – he’s the twin brother of my old boyfriend, Stephen, from ages ago, you know, the one who died . . . We literally bumped into each other in London the day after I got here. There was nobody else involved in me and Vernon splitting up – not from my side, anyway. Just Vernon, being a big fat bully. I’m sure he was cheating on me, though. And I didn’t even care, things had got that bad. I just wanted out.’

‘You could’ve rung me, you know, Kate. I didn’t realise you were in such a state . . . So you’ve only known Paul for four days?’

There was an unmistakeable note of disapproval in Miranda’s voice, and Kate couldn’t really blame her for it. When you thought about it, it was unbelievable that she’d only known Paul for such a short time. It seemed foolhardy in the extreme that the two of them were traipsing off around the country on what was probably a wild goose chase. She opened her mouth to tell Miranda that, no, of course she’d known Paul ever since she and Stephen had been together. But then she thought – no. That’s another lie. Stop worrying about what other people think of you. You don’t have to defend yourself to anybody.

Fortunately, Miranda didn’t wait for an answer, so Kate was spared having to tell the truth.

‘Does Jack know?’ Miranda asked instead.

‘About me and Vernon splitting up? No. I haven’t told him we aren’t going back.’ The reality of the situation hit Kate again, full force, and her face fell. ‘Damn. I know I’m going to have to sort something out eventually; some sort of access for Vernon, but I just can’t face it yet. He’d snatch him back, I know he would.’

‘And that’s why you brought him to England, because you think Vernon would try to get custody?’

‘I know he would. He tried to take him from me before. And I know if it went to court he could make me look bad. He forced me to go to a shrink who put me on anti-depressants . . . that won’t look good. And he’d tell them about all the nights I spent in the lab, being a bad mother. Plus he’s a goddamn pillar of the community and I’m a resident alien.’

‘Poor you. Poor little Jack,’ said Miranda, putting her hand on top of Kate’s, her eyes full of tears.

Kate got up abruptly. She desperately wanted to know what had really gone on at the CRU, but a small part of her wondered if some of that was because she needed distraction – a way of not having to think about the consequences of taking Jack away from his father.

‘We’d better go, Manda. Perhaps we could stay for lunch when we come back to collect Jack again?’

‘Of course. And don’t worry about him – he’ll be fine. Take as long as you need to. What was it you said you had to do, again? I couldn’t quite understand on the phone when you were telling me.’

‘It’s a long story. Paul needs my help to find out the truth about what happened to his brother. There are some unanswered questions around the way he died.’ She didn’t know what else to say really. It was too complicated to get into.

‘Crikey,’ said Miranda doubtfully. ‘That sounds very dramatic. You will be careful, won’t you?’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll just be making a few enquiries, and it’d be boring for Jack, that’s all. We aren’t going to be hunted down and assassinated by any underworld gangsters, because “we knew too much”.’

Her accompanying laugh sounded forced, even to her. She had an image of Sarah, lying on the grass outside the burning CRU, no longer a survivor in her memory, but a corpse. And she thought of Stephen’s letter and the weird message. Again, she had the feeling that she and Paul were moving into treacherous waters. Jack would be far better off here, even though it would hurt her to be apart from him.

‘Jack!’ she called, and he came running up the garden towards her, panting, the colour back in his cheeks. ‘Mummy’s off now.’ His face fell and he flung his arms around her middle, nuzzling into her stomach. ‘Be a good boy for Auntie Miranda, won’t you? I’ll see you really soon, I promise.’

Jack’s cousin George shouted from down the garden: ‘Come on, Jack, we’re gonna play football now, Amelia’s in goal, do you want to be a winger or on defence?’

To Kate’s surprise, Jack extracted himself from the hug, wiped the tears off his face, and ran off back down the garden. ‘Bye Mummy, see you soon!’ he shouted, windmilling his arms in the air as he galloped away from her.