Milly was restless out in the sticks. She’d made up with Belle over that Nipper business, but Belle was off somewhere at the moment so she went into London, alone. She had spare keys to a flat Dad kept there, the lush place on the river with views up to Tower Bridge, so she moved in. She’d given Nula no explanation for the move other than: ‘I’m so fucking bored out here. I’m going into town. Staying on there for a while.’
Dad had blown his top spectacularly over her giving Javier the cold shoulder again.
‘Why not have dinner with the man?’ he’d raged. ‘Would it bother you so much to at least be polite?’
Milly had no answer. She upped and fled to the city, to get away from the whole rotten lot of them. Mum didn’t even seem interested that she’d left. Nula was in one of her downtimes again, barely speaking, not engaging with anyone, just scribbling in her notebooks. Well, fuck it.
So Milly took herself off to the Smoke. She spent too much in Harvey Nicks, wandered around Tiffany’s, offloaded a fortune of the very generous allowance Charlie paid her because no daughter of his, he always said, was ever going to have to work for a living. She blew hundreds in Harrods, raided Bond Street, then went back to the flat loaded with bags and flopped out on the couch, feeling a bit happier – until she thought of Nipper again, and wondered if she was being a fool, wondered if she was so desperate for affection that she’d just settled for sex instead.
Deep down she knew all too well that Nipper was a worthless bastard, Harlan’s glove puppet. But at least her and Belle were together again, best mates. No way was a man ever going to come between them.
Suddenly she choked back a tear and looked at all the purchases surrounding her. Her pleasure in them faded instantly. Then there was the noise of male voices, and the key turned in the lock. She straightened with a guilty jolt. If it was Dad, he’d moan like fuck about all the shopping bags. It was one of Charlie’s ‘things’ – he chucked money about like confetti on stuff for his own amusement, but he always complained if Milly or Nula or Harlan spent a penny.
But it wasn’t Charlie. It was Harlan, with a few hard-looking young men coming in behind him. He paused when he saw her sitting there.
‘What the fuck you doing here?’ he asked.
‘Right back at you,’ said Milly, annoyed. She hadn’t realized Harlan was staying here. She didn’t want to share the place with him and his mates. She saw that Nipper had trailed in among them. He looked at her blankly. And there was Ludo, decked out in more chains than the Queen Mary, nudging Nipper, grinning when he saw that she was there.
Harlan came and slouched down on the couch opposite her while his mates wandered around the big room, picking up vases and artworks that were probably priceless – Charlie liked his art – and slapping them back down, disinterested, then stopping by the floor-to-ceiling windows to admire the view.
She felt uncomfortable, red-faced, seeing Nipper here. And he was ignoring her. It was clear that Ludo knew about their relationship, but Nipper didn’t want Charlie finding out. And he didn’t want to acknowledge her in front of Harlan, either. That must be why he was blanking her.
‘I had the key for this place, so I thought I’d come on over here for a while and stay. What, the country getting too boring for you, was it?’ asked Harlan.
Milly shrugged. She wasn’t about to chat about family matters in front of all these tossers.
‘You can go now,’ said Harlan to the others, his eyes still fixed on Milly.
One by one they headed for the door. Meek as lambs, she thought. She’d seen her dad’s people react exactly the same to an order from Charlie. Nipper didn’t even glance at her as he left.
‘I miss Beezer,’ she said when the door closed behind the last of them. She’d always liked ‘Uncle’ Beezer. He’d been around all her life, a fixture. And he always made her laugh, however bleak her mood.
Harlan smiled. ‘That stupid old fart? Old school, wasn’t he. Old ideas, old ways. I don’t think he liked me much.’
Milly didn’t know what to say to that. Beezer had always been viewed with tolerant affection by the family. But not by Harlan. Again she thought of what she’d found in Harlan’s room, and she thought of Beezer, and what he’d seen on the morning of baby Jake’s death.
‘Maybe he had reason not to like you,’ she said.
‘Meaning what?’ Harlan’s pale grey eyes were sharp as lasers on her face.
Milly shrugged.
‘I said, meaning what?’
‘You remember the party on the day of baby Jake’s christening? Beezer saw you coming out of the nursery in the small hours the next morning. The morning Jake was found dead.’
Harlan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Beezer did?’
‘Yeah, he did. And you never liked the baby, did you. I can remember you watching Mum and Dad with Jake, I can remember how you used to look at him.’
‘And how was that?’
‘Like you hated him.’
‘Christ, it must be a family thing,’ said Harlan. His mouth was smiling but his eyes were very cold.
‘What?’ Milly was bewildered.
Harlan lifted a hand and twirled his fingers against his temple. ‘The insanity. Like mother, like daughter, yeah?’
‘I’m not mad, Harlan. Not in the least. And if Mum ever was, it’s thanks to you.’
‘What?’
‘I found things in your room. Remember that day you were spying on Nipper and me in the pool house? I went indoors and into your room and I found . . .’
Her voice tailed away. Harlan had jumped to his feet and was across the carpet and grabbing her by the arm and hauling her up, so quickly that she didn’t have time to react. She found herself staring into those icy grey eyes from inches away and she thought, Oh Christ he’s going to kill me.
‘Tell me what you found,’ he said, shaking her. His grip on her arm was intensely painful.
‘Just . . . ow! . . . I found the tape recorder. And the tape. The baby crying. You played it to frighten Mum, didn’t you. To make her think she was going mad.’
He was silent for a moment, staring into her eyes. Then he said: ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’
‘Yes you do.’ Her voice shook.
‘No I don’t. You’re crazy, just like she is.’
‘No. That’s not true.’
He held her there, fixing her with that stare while he weighed up what she’d just told him. She could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain. Then he said: ‘Beezer thought he saw me, you say? Going into the nursery?’
Milly nodded dumbly. As a boy, he’d been weedy; thin. Now as a man he was very strong, while she was flabby and weak.
‘He must have been off his head on something,’ said Harlan. Suddenly he let her go. ‘And Mills – bear this in mind. I wasn’t there. Beezer imagined it.’
Her arm where he’d gripped it was throbbing with hot pain. Her mind was racing, any minute now he was going to warn her not to tell anyone. But she’d already told people. She’d told Belle. She’d told Mum. And Mum had told Dad.
‘Who’ve you told, Milly?’ he demanded.
Milly licked her dry lips. She could lie. But he’d get the truth out of her; she knew he would.
‘I told Mum. She told Dad, but I don’t suppose he believed her anyway, and . . .’ Her voice tailed away.
‘And?’ He gripped her arm again and she let out a cry. ‘And, Milly?’
‘I told Belle.’