Just after two thirty in the afternoon, the following day, Eve drove through the barrier and down the hill through the woods to the little marina on the Beaulieu River. She had tried to call Gavin several times but his phone kept diverting straight to voicemail. She wondered if Melissa had been able to get hold of him to tell him what had happened the previous night. Melissa’s voice still filled her ears in a disjointed loop.
‘I can’t get hold of Gavin. He’s on that stupid boat of his. You think he’d come back here, to be with me? He doesn’t care about any of us. This is all your fault. Now Harry’s been shot because of you. Why did you have to come here, stirring up trouble? None of this would have happened without you.’
Eve had spent part of the previous night being interviewed in the little police station in Marlborough, after which she had been driven by a member of Fagan’s team back to London for further interviews earlier that morning. Dan had taken Hassan to see Fagan and he had given a statement about what he had seen at Mickey’s flat. Harry had been shot twice and badly wounded. He had been taken by ambulance to Swindon hospital, with Sally Michaels at his side. One of the bullets had nicked his lung and he had been rushed into surgery, but he had since regained consciousness and was expected to pull through. Stuart and Damon Wade had been caught, trying to escape, and had been arrested and charged with a variety of offences, along with two of their men. Hopefully, Hassan would be able to identify one, or both of them and that forensic evidence would place them at the scene of Mickey’s murder. The third man had run off somewhere on foot, but was finally captured later, trying to hitch a lift on the road to Swindon.
At the bottom of the steep hill, the dark trees gave way to a wide, open area of brown, brackish marshland, feathered with little inlets of muddy water. She parked her car next to the yacht-broker’s cabin, which appeared to have already closed for the day, and walked through the boatyard. It was packed with about fifty boats of varying shapes and sizes, the hulls lifted high off the ground on sturdy wooden props. A radio blared from one of the boats, accompanied by the sound of drilling and hammering, but other than that there was little sign of life. The harbour master’s hut looked over the water. She stopped and asked for directions and the man behind the desk pointed through the window towards the neat lines of boats beyond, giving her precise instructions. Outside, the air was heavy with the smell of brine. The river curled into the distance, milky and still under the huge grey sky. Physically, it looked little different to how she remembered it from twenty years before, except that the sun had been shining, the air hot and dry and the landscape bright with colour. She crossed the bridge and walked down the narrow gangplank onto the main pontoon, which ran parallel with the marshland. A flock of gulls were feeding on the muddy banks, exposed by the low tide, and their intermittent cries pierced the silence. Five narrow pontoons stretched out at right angles from the main walkway, like the branches of a tree, each festooned with neat lines of white yachts, with hardly an empty berth. Most of the boats were dark, locked up and in hibernation for the winter.
Even without the harbour master’s directions, she couldn’t miss Gavin’s boat. Again she heard Melissa’s shrill, bitter voice:
‘You know what it’s called don’t you? It’s The Eve. I should have guessed the minute I first saw you. You’ve ruined all our lives.’
The yacht sat low in the water, about thirty-feet long, gleaming white, with navy trim. Her name was written in large black italics on the stern. It must have been a rebuke to Melissa every time she saw it. No wonder she didn’t enjoy sailing. Music drifted from inside, Mozart, she thought, and could just make out Gavin through the window, leaning against a pile of cushions, reading some sort of document. He must have heard her as he looked up and came out on deck.
‘Oh, Eve,’ he said, helping her aboard. ‘I wasn’t expecting you. Are you OK?’
She nodded.
He studied her face anxiously. ‘Melissa called me. I was going to come, but she said you’d gone back to London with the police. I didn’t realize those men had hurt you, as well as Harry.’
‘It’s nothing. Just bruising, that’s all.’
A gust of wind blew her hair into her eyes and for a moment she was blinded. He brushed it gently away with his fingers, still gazing at her.
‘I’m so sorry you ever got drawn into all of this.’ It was as though he felt he and the Michaels family were to blame for everything.
She followed him inside through the small door, stepping carefully down the ladder into the warmth of the small cabin. It was fitted out in glossy cherry-coloured wood and cream leather upholstery, with a slatted, wooden floor. He took her coat and hung it up in a small cupboard at the back.
‘You know, I never thought you’d come,’ he said, turning off the music and hastily clearing away the remains of his lunch. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, or coffee, or something?’ he asked, quickly washing them up in the galley. ‘I’ve got nothing else, apart from some wine, I’m afraid. As I said, I didn’t think you’d come.’
‘I’m fine. I’ve had enough caffeine in the last twelve hours to last me a week. How’s your mother?’
‘Luckily, just a bit of bruising, that’s all.’
She sat down on one of the long, cream benches and he joined her after a minute.
‘Will you tell me what happened? I’d like to hear it from you.’
She felt suddenly awkward and looked away, folding her arms tightly across her chest as she gazed out of the window towards the woods in the distance. She had told Andy Fagan everything. Why was it so difficult to talk to Gavin?
‘Look, if you don’t want to, it’s fine.’
‘No. I’d like to.’ Taking a deep breath, she started with what had happened in the street outside her flat, then in the tack room at Westerby, Harry, the gunshot, Melissa … As she listened to herself talk, it suddenly seemed a terrible, confusing blur. She didn’t know if she was making sense or not, but it struck her suddenly how close she had again come to dying. When she finished, there was silence for a moment, then he put his arms around her and pulled her to him. From nowhere, tears filled her eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, pulling away and wiping her face hurriedly with her fingers. ‘I shouldn’t have come. I’m very tired. I’m in no fit state …’
‘Eve, it’s me. It doesn’t matter. I’m just so happy you’re here. You can rest. I’ll look after you.’
She shook her head. The weight of his emotions and expectations were too much. She felt suddenly claustrophobic and stood up again. ‘I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.’
‘But you’ve only just got here. What’s the matter? You feel unwell? I can call a doctor.’
‘No. I just can’t stay.’
‘Please, Eve. Will you just sit down for a minute and tell me what’s wrong.’
She stared out of the window again, trying to make sense of how she felt, then turned back to face him. She didn’t know what to say or where to start. None of it would make any difference, nor would it make him happy.
‘Eve, please. I’ll do anything I can … Anything for you …’ He was looking at her, as though not sure what to do, then reached for her hand and pulled her down next to him again on the bench. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ he said, trying to catch her eye. ‘And I sense you don’t want to hear this. But I have to tell you. I love you. I always have. I’ve never stopped. Not for one single minute. I felt that way from the moment I first saw you.’ He took a series of deep breaths. ‘You know, I used to go outside into the back garden on the pretext of having a cigarette, even though I didn’t really smoke, and I’d stand gazing up at your window, just wishing I’d catch a glimpse of you or that you’d open the curtains and look out at me. I just wanted to see you, to feel close to you, to be with you. I don’t feel any different now.’
She saw the sadness in his eyes and pressed her fingers to his lips. There was nothing that she could say that would make it any better.
He took her hand again, holding it tightly. ‘You don’t understand the effect you have on people, on me, I mean.’
‘Please don’t say any more.’
‘I have to. You know, I’ve always believed in myself, ever since I was really small. I’ve always set myself goals. I knew if only I put my mind to it and worked incredibly hard, I’d do well at school, get into a good university, then the Bar, and then, later on, win a seat in Parliament. I’ve never felt inferior to anybody and I’ve always thought that everything was possible, if I wanted it enough. I’ve never doubted anything, ever, until you appeared in my life. I mean both twenty years ago and now. I feel suddenly lost all over again. Why did you come today?’
She pulled away, took a deep breath. ‘Because I owe you an explanation.’
‘You mean about why you ran off and left me before? It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. That’s all that’s important.’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing’s changed. I couldn’t marry you when you asked me and I can’t be with you now.’
‘I don’t understand. To be honest, I’ve never understood.’
She held his gaze, struggling to form the words. She had never spoken them before and it felt suddenly frightening. Once out, there would be no return. She stood up and moved away from him, looking out at the water, wanting to put some distance between them.
‘Eve? What’s wrong?’
She turned back to face him. ‘My name’s not Eve.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘My real name’s Pagan.’
‘Pagan?’
‘It’s the name of a character in a stupid bestseller my mother was reading when she was pregnant with me. She lived in a world of fantasy most of the time. It’s one of the many ways she tried to escape everything.’
‘You never talked about your mother.’
‘She’s dead. I’ve been Eve for over twenty years, now. Pagan … she seems like another person.’
‘You didn’t like your name?’
‘It’s not that, although I hated my name. I used to get teased about it at school.’ She took a deep breath. It was almost painful to speak. ‘I was twelve. Something happened to me. I was put in the witness protection scheme and given a new identity, a new life. I’ve never told anybody before.’
‘My God. What happened?’
She bit her lip, wishing she didn’t have to explain. But she had to go on. ‘I was living with my mother and my two little half-brothers. There were two men. They used to come to our house to see my mother’s boyfriend, Daz, whenever he was around. He was mixed up in a whole load of bad stuff, I discovered later. On the night when it happened, they brought a third man, Ray McAllen, with them. He was a really bad man. I found out later he was their boss.’
‘Where was your father?’
‘No idea. He left long before I was born. My mother wouldn’t talk about him and I’ve never known who he was. She had one hopeless relationship after another when I was growing up, so I assume he was another bad lot. We moved around a great deal. I’ve never really felt at home anywhere.’
‘Tell me about the men.’
‘One was a paedophile. I don’t know his name, but the other man called him Doc and he had a tattoo on his arm of a skeleton. I called him Dr Death. The other man was called Clive Ripley. It was McAllen who killed Daz and I saw it happen. Then they murdered my mother and my brothers. I was shot as I ran away. That’s why I have those scars. When they’d finished, they set our house on fire. Everything was destroyed. Everything.’
From nowhere, she heard the screams, the gunfire, then the explosion, followed by the roar of the flames. She could smell the smoke. She pressed her hands tightly over her ears but she could hear their voices. She shivered and shook her head vigorously, trying to get rid of the images, and looked up at Gavin. She needed him to understand.
‘I was the only witness. I was taken to a safe house until after the trials. McAllen was a very dangerous man, a member of a well-known crime family. I’m sure he did absolutely everything he could to find me and he would have killed me if he had. But he failed. Once the trials were over, I left immediately to start my new life with Robin and Clem. Even though it was all done and dusted, as far as the police and CPS were concerned, it wasn’t for me. It will never be over. It’s why I had that meltdown when you asked me to marry you, why I had to leave. It was just too much and I couldn’t handle it. I realized I – we – had been living a lie.’
He exhaled loudly and looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at her. His face was red and there were tears in his eyes. ‘What happened to the men who killed your family?’
‘Both Ripley and McAllen were caught and sent to prison. I identified them and my testimony helped put them both away. McAllen died of a heart attack a few years ago, but Ripley’s still in jail on a full life term, although he still claims he wasn’t there, that he was innocent. The other man, the so-called doctor, got away. He’s German, I found out later, a doctor of philosophy, not a medical doctor. I used to think he’d come after me, that he’d want to finish the job. He’s long gone now, probably on the other side of the world if he’s not dead. I keep telling myself, there’s no logical reason for him to come and look for me after all this time. Anyway, why would he make the connection to the person I am now? I look completely different, with a new identity. But the nightmares don’t stop. What happened still haunts me. When I close my eyes, I see … I hear … I still feel the fear.’
‘You’re safe here with me.’
She shook her head. ‘The fear’s in my bones, in my blood, in every beat of my heart. I will never feel safe until I know he’s dead.’
‘Do you have any idea what happened to him?’
‘No. I’ve done everything I can over the years to trace him, but so far nothing. One day, though, I’ll find him, wherever he is, if he’s still alive. And I’ll kill him.’
He sighed. ‘You mean that, don’t you?’
She nodded.
The ringing of her phone broke the silence. As she took her phone out of her pocket, she saw Dan’s name on the screen and answered.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve found out how the police ID’d the body of the woman in the woods,’ Dan said. His voice sounded very loud in the quiet of the cabin. ‘They used fingerprints and DNA taken from personal items belonging to Jane. The solicitor gave me a list of the things they used, but if Jane’s not dead, how’s that possible?’