‘Hugh will come back to me,’ Sonia said to herself, fumbling her way across the bedroom to the bathroom. She had changed into black velvet trousers and an orange silk tunic. ‘He wanted to stay with me; I know he did. So stupid. Too proud to give in. But he will.’
She splashed cold water on her face and let it drip onto her tunic. Lights only made this damned house feel bigger and emptier. Barefoot and in near darkness, she stumbled downstairs and into the kitchen.
Low lights beneath the glass-fronted cabinets gave a pale glow that reflected across etchings of grasses swept by wind. Sonia hated those greenish glass doors with their soundless wind and wildness. Even the Aga and dark green appliances made her sick.
The front door knocker, dropped once, sent its iron-hard sound echoing through the house. Sonia barely breathed, then she ran to answer, her heart pounding. She had known he would regret trying to leave her.
The heavy door swung wide under her urgent wrench.
‘Hello, Sonia.’
Annie? Annie Bell – Elyan’s Annie?
‘I don’t blame you for being surprised,’ Annie said. ‘It’s been a long time. I had to see you. I came to Folly a few days ago and I’ve been hanging around trying to get up the courage to come.’
‘Come in.’ Sonia stepped back and the girl passed her.
The hair was as thick, curly and shiny auburn as she remembered. Dark, searching eyes. Annie was lovely and Sonia wished her somewhere far from here – now.
She stopped opposite the drawing room. ‘Everything is still covered,’ she said of the draped furnishings. ‘I thought you’d been here for days.’
‘Not many,’ Sonia said. She hadn’t disliked Annie but then, why should she have been particularly interested in her. Elyan had announced their engagement but Sonia had been certain nothing would come of that. Ridiculously unsuitable.
‘I’m sorry to drop in on you,’ Annie said, ‘but the house phone isn’t working and I don’t know your mobile number.’ She smiled, a tremble of her bottom lip betraying just how nervous she was. Her left hand went to her hair and the ring Elyan had given her still shone on her finger.
‘How did you know I was here?’ Sonia asked.
Annie looked uncomfortable. ‘I don’t think I’m supposed to say. It doesn’t really matter, does it?’
Sonia liked to know all the players in any game, but she said, ‘Of course not. How lovely to see you. It’s been too long.’ Until she knew what was at stake here, she would play her hand carefully. ‘Let’s sit in the drawing room. It’s time I pulled off some of the sheets.’
She pulled off the covers from two chairs and indicated for Annie to sit. The girl was more attractive than she’d remembered. Slender but feminine, her face paler than it should be, the freckles more pronounced than she remembered.
‘What can I get you?’ Sonia asked. She’d drunk too much wine and keeping her voice steady took an effort.
‘Nothing, thank you. I don’t want to take up much of your time.’ Annie sat in an ivory brocade chair and Sonia took the other one she had stripped of its cover.
A thud reverberated in the near silence and Annie swiveled in her chair to look out into the hall. ‘That came from the dining room or the kitchen.’
Sonia struggled to her feet and started forward.
‘Did you close the front door?’ Annie asked, getting up and passing Sonia before she could get far. ‘No, that’s it.’ She disappeared into the hall and Sonia heard the door shut with a hollow bang.
Annie returned, smiling slightly.
‘What’s funny?’ Sonia asked, afraid her speech was slurred.
‘I was just thinking that this isn’t an easy house for either of us. Who can blame us for being jumpy. The front door wasn’t completely closed. A breeze must have shut a door somewhere else. I would love to talk to you, Sonia. I think it’s about something we’re both concerned with.’
‘Go ahead.’ Sonia wanted, more than anything, to think about what she should do next. Hugh was her main concern – and that other diversion she was considering.
‘I see Elyan regularly,’ Annie said. ‘He’s brave, but his life is so hard. He accepts that he brought what’s happened upon himself, but he’s changed so much since he’s been at Ashworth. It isn’t easy for him there, you know.’
Sonia propped a fist under her chin. ‘It’s out of my hands. I can’t stand the thought of him in that place. I don’t understand what they say happened.’ She raised her face. ‘I’ve never believed that brilliant, gentle boy could do anyone harm.’
The buzzing in her head sickened Sonia. She put a hand over her eyes.
‘Whatever happened,’ Annie said, ‘I’ll never stop loving him and I know you won’t either. That’s why I came. He needs to know we are all here for him and we’d do anything to ease what’s happening.’
Sonia nodded but wished Annie would get to the point without wasting more of the evening.
‘Each time I go to see Elyan he asks about you,’ Annie said, sitting forward in her chair. ‘You’re his mother but you haven’t been to see him.’
Sonia pressed the corners of her eyes and easily produced rolling tears. ‘You don’t understand,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I love him so and I can’t see him there. It’s too painful. All that talent wasted.’
‘What’s happened has happened,’ Annie said. ‘The point is that to help him make it through somehow, he needs to know we care about him, deeply. In time he may be released … if he gets better. For any hope of that we must support him. I’m here to ask you to see him. Just go up there and visit him. It isn’t scary or strange. You’ll visit one-on-one. And I know how healing that will be for him.’
She did love Elyan, Sonia thought, a great deal, but some situations were too much for people who were as deeply sensitive as she was. Annie was staring at her, beseeching her with those great, dark eyes. Somehow she had to satisfy the girl without making promises she might not keep.
‘I go as often as they’ll let me,’ Annie said, and tears welled in her eyes. ‘I’m not his wife, not a relative. Percy has helped get past that. He sees Elyan regularly even though I know how much it hurts him. I never liked Mr Quillam very much but I’ve learned to respect him because I think he’s really sorry for not being more sensitive to Elyan’s needs. And Hugh Rhys goes. I see him there and he comforts me. Elyan loves him and it raises his spirits when he sees him.’
Sonia turned cold. Everyone was a hero, everyone but her. Nobody gave a damn about her needs. She loved people, she was a passionate woman, too – was that a sin? She had her needs and she knew the things she must protect herself from.
‘Sonia,’ Annie said quietly, ‘will you go to see Elyan, for all of us?’
Damn, she had always had to fight for what she wanted and she was fighting again. ‘I’ll think about it, Annie. I really will. I love my son so dearly. But I want you to see things more clearly and try to understand some of the troubling truths that weigh on me.’
Annie only watched her, the pallor of her skin increasing.
‘Percy visits Elyan because he believed this protégé was a continuation of himself. The maestro produced a virtuoso pianist. And every time he watched Elyan he thought he was watching his own creation. Every accolade Elyan got, Percy snatched as his own.’
‘I can’t disagree with you,’ Annie said. ‘I also don’t know all the details as well as you must. It seemed that Percy drove Elyan much too hard. But I’m now sure he loves him very much.’
‘I wonder if he’d love him so much if he knew the truth,’ Sonia snapped, tired of holding back from doing what she needed to do – for herself. She had suffered quite enough.
She felt Annie looking at her and gave her a slight smile.
‘What truth?’ Annie asked, her voice kept low.
If she hoped to beat them all – and it would be risky regardless – it was time to play her trump card. Sonia stood up and raised her voice. ‘Just listen to me.’ Her voice, sung or spoken, was a powerful tool. ‘Why do you think Hugh Rhys visits Elyan so often?’
Annie still didn’t say anything, just watched and waited.
‘They all want to pretend it isn’t so, but Hugh is Elyan’s father. Of course he goes to see him. And he hates Percy. He couldn’t bear to think of Percy spending more time with Elyan than he does. Hugh is a jealous man, and I should know.’
Sonia leaned against a counter and used her mobile. It only rang once before she heard the low voice. ‘What do you want?’
‘I just had an unexpected visitor. I think you know who I mean. We had an agreement that you wouldn’t tell anyone I was coming here but you did, didn’t you?’
For seconds there was no response. When the voice did come again, boredom dripped. ‘Is that all you called for? Whether or not I did whatever you’re talking about isn’t your business.’
‘I feel trapped in this house.’ Now she could hear music in the background. ‘I’m not good at being alone. Alone I can think of ways to punish people who ignore me.’
‘You chose to go there.’ The voice became muffled as if the mouthpiece was covered. Who else was there?
‘I need to talk to you now,’ Sonia said, sniffling. ‘Something has happened. If you like I could come to you. Just name the place.’
‘You are not learning, are you? Don’t push me. You hear? It won’t help you. And I want you to stay right where you are.’ As always, the threat was implicit.
The phone went dead. Sonia’s finger hovered over the keys before she changed her mind about calling back and dropped her mobile into a pocket.
‘I hate you,’ she muttered.
In one swallow, she finished the glass of Sauvignon Blanc she had poured after Annie left and went to get the bottle from the refrigerator again. She rose to her toes on the cool floor and wobbled as she lifted the bottle to see how much was left. Just an inch in the bottom and she knew she had drunk the rest. So what? She would finish this and start another. Dealing with Annie, with her tears and questions, had been exhausting.
Before the refrigerator could close, a hand passed before her eyes, and clamped over her nose and mouth. The pressure of a body on her back rammed her forward against hard, cold shelves, rattled the contents. Her scream cut off, but not the ragged shudder of her breathing or the surge of burning vomit in her throat. The bottle slipped from her hand to smash on the tiles. Cartons and jars fell. Cold wet liquids splashed over her feet.
He had waited for her.
Did he want to kill her?
It was all black.
For an instant the grip slacked a little. He was adjusting his hold, trying to close the refrigerator door at the same time. She flailed, twisted, grabbed for his face, his head, anything. Flexed muscle in his shoulder pushed her away and drew her tighter against him. He was big. That was all she could tell about him.
Go limp. Drop.
Burning pain stabbed at her feet. They felt slimy and wet. Bleeding. Glass and blood.
Sonia thrust up her arms, punched her fists beneath the arms that held her. She slid to the floor and scrambled, expecting him to fall on her, to shout, but there was no sound from him – until a shuffling like snowshoes on ice.
More silence.
Who was it?
Her lungs filled with rushes of burning air.
Standing again, her bare feet slid on the tiles.
She didn’t fall.
Through the door and along the passageway past the downstairs rooms she went. He would catch her, throw her down, beat her, squeeze the life out of her. Sobs grabbed with each breath and no air reached her lungs. Her head pounded.
Now, he would catch her now. Now! Now! Thundering in her chest. Let me go. Someone come. Please come. Stop him.
The front door was open again. Hadn’t she closed it when Annie left? Sliding, slapping her feet down and curling her toes to grip … nothing … she was outside.
Not just warm. Suffocating. Down the steps, the backs of her ankles scraping stone. Where are you? You’ll get me when you want to. You’re watching me, sneering at me. Why? What have I done to you?
Her feet hit the driveway, the toes curling again, into the gravel. Gravel felt good. Every cutting edge was a pain she hissed at, gasping as she went. But pain meant she was alive.
Sonia wanted to scream. The struggle to keep the noise down bubbled in her throat and mouth. Any loud sound would only let him know exactly where she was.
Running, she left the house behind. Then she reached the trees on the far side of the driveway where they fronted the edge of small but dense woods that stretched away from the line of sycamores, and she knew where to go. Had she heard him fall? Was he unconscious? Yes, he must be or he would have caught her. He was unconscious, and she was free – until he came to and followed her. He would be wilder, more vicious than ever.
Panting, she fumbled for her mobile. The police would come. She hadn’t been able to call while she was so close to whoever attacked her, but now she could.
The mobile had been in the right pocket of her trousers. She dug in the left one, too. Again and again she delved deep. Nothing. It must have fallen out. Moving on was essential, and she did, but she couldn’t stop the tears.
The woods would hide her. They would also tear her feet apart even more. Bracken, thorny bushes and trailing brambles grew thicker and more tangled with every step she forced through them.
Was she a dreaming fool and he had another plan for her? Did he want her to run?
Where should she go? Once out of the estate grounds and into the lane, downhill was a long way to anything. At the bottom of the lane, the road curved around the hill above that miserable Folly-on-Weir. One way the road went to Folly, the other by some meandering route to a pathetic wide spot in the road called by a name she didn’t remember. Uphill there was a house under renovation, and a continuation of the lane to fields she had wandered through once or twice. There was the long back way to the Derwinters and almost opposite, a mostly unused and overgrown route that meandered across the fields to another hill track. No help up there at this time of night.
No way to use a phone …
Down to the main road was the only way and then hide in the bushes until she saw a car coming. She would keep going through the trees, working her way toward the hedges that surrounded the estate. She remembered that beyond the hedge there was a steep bank of rough grass along the edge on this side of the lane.
Pausing, rocking from foot to foot and sucking in breaths, Sonia thought she had heard something. Branches snapping? She held her breath to listen. It wasn’t there now. Was he coming?
Stumbling on, her feet became first an agony but eventually numb. Roots tripped her. Dragging herself up again and concentrating on the direction she took, she fought her way downhill and toward the lane at the same time. Brambles caught her clothes and she tore them free with bleeding hands.
At last she made out a thinning in the bushes. Cautiously, Sonia parted the hedgerow and staggered through. Clinging to branches at the top of the verge that sloped to the lane, Sonia struggled to let go and slither down. She’d come this far. Now, she would reach the lane and take it down to the road between Underhill and Folly-on-Weir. There, she remembered that other place now. If a car traveling in either direction came by, she could flag it down and at least ask them to call the police? If a car traveled by at all – the place was deserted most of the time. No vehicle had passed out here in the lane. She’d have heard an engine if there was one.
That man had got to the house somehow. He might be in any vehicle driving past but she thought something quite different had happened to him. He could have run away over the hills. She muttered a little prayer that he had.
A car, she couldn’t see the make, was parked a few yards ahead against the ragged verge. She could make out it’s dark shape. Big. Sonia swallowed hard, stopped, and peered ahead. She thought it might be a BMW but there was little light from a quarter moon. Nothing seemed to move inside the car but that didn’t have to mean there was no one inside.
Hands closing on her waist, fingertips digging painfully beneath her ribs, swung her from the ground and threw her, face-first, among sticks and brambles.
Fingers tore at her hair, lifted her head and pushed, pounded her forehead into the jumble. Sonia choked on the blood that flooded from her nose into her throat.
She coughed, retched, and he fell on her, a great dead weight, pushed the air from her lungs.
Steady whining started – low, growing. An engine. Sonia fought to arch her back, to see. A headlight swung across her.
The weight on top of her made sure she couldn’t signal. She couldn’t shift a muscle. She was trapped against the ground, making certain no passing vehicle saw them.
Dimly, she heard a voice. Once more she attempted to shift. Useless. Her cry was muffled against the earth.
So tired now. So much pain.
Sonia’s eyes closed.