The vast, sandy curve of Kesterly’s main beach was so crowded with music lovers, bands, dancers, all kinds of party animals, that Gina knew as she floated down from the Promenade that she was unlikely to find her friends in the mayhem. She didn’t mind. It felt exciting, daring, to be alone in her dreamy, chilled-out state. She was already half in love with all the revellers, who seemed just as dreamy and chilled as she did. Many reached for her as she sauntered aimlessly past, pulling her into a dance, stroking her hair, pressing kisses to her bronzed bare skin.
It was summer, the night was hot, the concert free. Everyone was high; thick, pungent smoke fogged the air, drifted from joints, burning oils and small bonfires. Ecstasy was offered and taken, blues downed like candy, while cocaine was snorted from bare breasts and thighs. In the light of flames faces glowed with euphoria, and inhibitions melted away as everyone gyrated, hummed and thrust to the beat.
Gina had known how it would be; they all knew, it was why they’d come. Concerts like this happened often around universities and beaches; but if she went to one, she always took something. Tonight it had been E, almost an hour ago, with another pill tucked into her bikini top for later.
She smiled vaguely as she walked, letting her head fall back to watch embers floating high into the night like crimson stars. The great black canvas of the sky was so inviting she felt she could fly right up to it. Aware of hands on her legs she closed her eyes, yielding to the erotic charges sweeping through her, raising the hair from her neck as she swayed and laughed and felt the music entering her as though she were a puppet and it her master.
He didn’t ask her name, and she didn’t ask his, she simply let him pull her down beside him, and when he laughed she laughed too. She was aware of others watching, and stretched out a hand to them. Someone took it, and she moaned softly as he held her to him, protectively, telling everyone she was his. She didn’t mind; she was barely listening, she just wanted to be with them, whoever they were, passing spliffs and tipping back wine.
It was a long way into the night that she heard someone mention the police. Joints were extinguished and buried, searches began for abandoned clothes, causing hilarity and tangled limbs. Had she already swallowed the second pill? She couldn’t remember.
He took her by the hand and tugged her across the sand. She went willingly, intrigued to know where they going, where she would end up tonight. Others came, and soon they were in cars, heading out of town into the pitch-black countryside. He drove recklessly, and through the open top she felt the wind whipping through her hair, and over her body like a beautiful, violent storm.
Eventually they stopped in the middle of nowhere. In the moonlight she could make out the shape of tents, pitched in a field.
‘The party continues,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Just remember you’re mine, all mine.’
She laughed and got out of the car, wondering what had happened to her shoes, but not really caring. She was with him; she already loved him, whoever he was, and she wanted him more and more.
Suddenly they were blinded by flashlights. Men, older men, were coming towards them, emerging from the darkness like alien beings. Voices were raised angrily, abusively. Her lover let go of her hand and moved forward aggressively, fists clenched. She drew back with the other girls she’d barely noticed until now.
‘What’s happening?’ she heard one of them whisper.
Nobody knew.
The anger in the air was palpable; the threats became terrible, fraught with violence and murderous intent. This was a different kind of dream. Something had gone wrong.
An explosion suddenly tore through the night like a thunderclap, filling it with deafening sound.
Silence fell like invisible rain.
‘Jesus, she’s got a gun.’
Gina watched, as though hypnotized, as one of the older men took the gun from a woman with furious eyes and shaking hands. What was the man going to do? Were they all about to be killed?
Her lover was shouting, gesticulating, snarling along with the others.
‘We need to get out of here,’ a girl whispered in her ear, but Gina was held captive by weakened limbs and bewildered fascination.
The older men closed in on the younger ones, telling them to take the tents down, to move on, get off their land. There was pushing and shoving, more violent threats, until the roar of a vehicle drowned the fracas. It was coming in through a far gate, dazzling them all with its headlights. It came closer, at speed, and the younger men started to run from it. Gina’s lover grabbed her, his face taut, white, and handsome in an other-worldly way.
The sudden stench was overpowering. She gasped and gagged.
So did the others.
The older men were laughing; the tents were sagging under the weight of the foul slime that had been dumped on them.
Keeping hold of her hand he dragged her back to the cars, where others were already starting to speed away.
‘Back to mine,’ he shouted as he revved his engine.
‘See you there,’ someone shouted back.
Gina closed her eyes as they sped through the night, unsure of what had just happened, or where they were going.
It wasn’t until the next morning, after the high had started to wear off, that she registered her surroundings. She was in a high-ceilinged room with large windows overlooking a tree-lined drive and manicured lawns.
He brought her tea, told her his name and said he wanted to fuck her again.
She let him, because she wanted it too.
He was special, she could feel it. She wanted to be with him again and again.
When it was over he rolled off her and said, ‘OK, little slut, time to fuck off home and have a good life.’
When Gina realized a couple of months later that she was pregnant she felt so sick and ashamed that she could tell no one, was hardly even able to admit it to herself. His parting words kept ringing in her ears. She couldn’t forget them; she’d barely heard anything else since. She needed him to take them back, to swear he hadn’t meant it, that he knew in his heart she wasn’t really that sort of girl.
Sometimes, to buoy herself, she wondered if he might be looking for her. He’d have no idea how to find her. Maybe she should contact him so he could tell her how much he regretted hurting and humiliating her so cruelly. She was sure he’d want to; he must feel so bad about the way he’d treated her; anyone would. Then she could tell him she was pregnant and he’d be so sorry for the way he’d behaved that he’d cry and beg her to forgive him. She would, of course, and then everything would be all right again. She wouldn’t have to go on feeling so disgusted with herself that she could hardly bear to look in the mirror, or any of her friends in the eye.
She went home for the weekend, telling her parents that she was in need of some peace and quiet for revision. She was aware of her mother’s bemusement – there were no exams coming up, and there were libraries and other places belonging to the university where she could study.
She rang Dean Manor from a call box in town and asked to speak to him. When he came to the phone she could hear her heartbeat in her ears and felt queasy as she said, ‘Hi, it’s the girl with no name. Remember me, from the beach in the summer? Do you fancy getting together again?’
There was a short silence before Charlie Bleasdale said in a drawl that was both friendly and intrigued, ‘Yeah. Yeah, I remember you, and I do fancy that. In fact your timing’s pretty perfect, Ms No Name. Tell me you’re free tonight.’
Swallowing, she said, ‘I’m free tonight.’
‘OK. Do you have a car?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then come to the Ring o’Bells car park at eleven.’
‘Why so late?’
He didn’t answer, and she realized he’d already rung off.
Vivi stared at her mother’s ashen face, seeing and feeling every part of her pain and despair, understanding her regrets, her refusal ever to speak of the despicable man who’d hurt and humiliated her so vilely. The shame and self-loathing he’d made her feel had spread through her young mind like a cancer, choking off parts of her so they could no longer function as they should. She’d been afraid to love since then, had felt undeserving of it, had even pushed it away as though it would turn into some kind of punishment for the way she’d behaved.
Vivi wanted desperately to end this ordeal for her mother now, to tell her that she was sorry she’d forced her to relive a single minute of it, but as though sensing what she was about to say Gina touched her fingers to Vivi’s lips, quietening her.
Michelle and Sam had left a while ago, feeling it wasn’t right for them to be present while Gina opened up, but Gil had stayed. Vivi had wanted him to, and Gina had agreed that he needed to hear the truth too.
Gina drank deeply from the glass of water Gil passed her; Vivi noticed how badly her hands were shaking, and unable to bear it she reached out for her. Her mother seemed almost childlike then as she looked into Vivi’s eyes, her expression showing how much she wanted to be forgiven and understood, how sorry she was, how riddled with guilt she felt, and had for years. Behind it all Vivi could see how deeply her mother loved her, and how afraid she was of losing her.
‘I know there’s more,’ Vivi said softly, ‘but I want to tell you now that nothing you can say will ever change how much I love you.’
Gina’s voice caught on a sob as she said, ‘Thank you. Oh, Vivi,’ and gathering her into her arms she held her so close that they could feel the beat of each other’s hearts. ‘I wish he wasn’t your father,’ she gasped. ‘I wish with every part of me that I could erase him from both our lives as though he’d never existed, but holding back, never telling you about him was all I could do. I’m sorry for all the pain it’s caused you … Do you understand that I needed to keep you away from him, because I was afraid of how much he might hurt you too?’
‘Of course I understand,’ Vivi whispered. ‘And I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you.’
‘I should have been truthful,’ Gina insisted, ‘I know that, but I just couldn’t bear to think of him, much less speak of him. Every time I tried I felt as though I was going to inject some sort of poison into our lives, a poison I’d never be able to get rid of … Maybe that doesn’t make any sense to you, but it felt so real to me, and even now I hate the fact that his name has been spoken in this room.’
Vivi hated it too for what it was doing to her mother, and had done for so many years. She looked at Gil as he sat beside them, his head down, his elbows resting on his knees. Sliding a hand into his, she brought it to her lips and kissed it. This must explain so much for him. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked him.
His smile was wry, his eyes shining with tears as he turned them to her. ‘Everything that’s beautiful about you,’ he said hoarsely, ‘and there’s so much, is down to your mother. You’re her daughter, not his.’
‘And you’re my father,’ she said, understanding it was what he needed to hear, and feeling the truth of it as though it was cleansing away the stains of reality.
Gil swallowed hard, tried to speak and found the words blocked by emotion. ‘This thing that’s happening to you …’ he said wretchedly. ‘You have so much to live for, so many people who love and need you …’
Breaking in gently, Vivi said, ‘We mustn’t talk about me now.’ She didn’t want her condition to be a part of this, wasn’t even going to allow herself to consider that she might have inherited the defect from that pig of a man. As far as she was concerned it was all hers, and would stay that way unless, until, she could find a new heart.
She turned back to her mother and smoothed a hand over Gina’s tear-ravaged face. ‘Do you want to go on?’ she asked softly.
There was a long moment before Gina said, ‘You must be tired …’
‘I’m fine,’ Vivi lied. Her mother needed to finish her story, and she, Vivi, needed to hear it.
Gina’s head went down, and her breathing sounded unsteady as she drew in air and quietly exhaled it. There was clearly still some distance to go and she needed all her reserves.
Eventually she looked at Vivi, and at the same time reached for Gil’s hand. She started to speak, slowly at first, but as the words came more easily Vivi could feel the bond they shared tightening around them as though to keep them safe. It had always been there, she realized, throughout everything it had never let her down, and she knew it never would.
It was gone midnight by the time they finally went to bed, Vivi and Gina to their rooms, Gil to Mark’s. They were all emotionally drained and exhausted, Gina most of all.
Vivi slept badly, her bruised and battered body aching and throbbing through the night, the cuts she’d sustained on the beach stinging like hot needles and the fear of what further damage she’d done to herself burning the edges of her pain. Mostly though, her mind raced and reeled with all that her mother had told her.
She knew the whole story now.
Gina had held nothing back, had revealed everything that had happened the night Jack Raynor died, and Vivi had felt her mother’s heart drowning in a bottomless well of grief and sorrow. Gina had spared herself nothing, had spoken almost as if in a trance, as though telling a story about someone she used to know.
It was how Vivi had felt as she’d listened, that the reckless free-spirited nineteen-year-old her mother had described was someone who’d stopped existing the night she’d gone to the beach and met the man who’d shamed, humiliated and impregnated her.
By the time her mother had finished Vivi had felt as devastated and beaten by the events of that night as Gina clearly had while it was happening. She’d also known what they needed to do next, and Gina, in spite of how afraid she was, hadn’t argued.
‘You have to tell Shelley,’ Vivi had said quietly. ‘She deserves to hear it from you.’
Gina had nodded, looked at Gil and, as though sensing his support, nodded again.
So now here they were on their way to Deerwood, Gil driving with Gina beside him and Vivi in the back. Vivi gazed out of the car window, barely registering the countryside that she and Josh had passed through the day before.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
‘My mother would like to meet yours,’ she’d told him when he’d called this morning. ‘Can we come today?’
He’d laughed in surprise. ‘Of course. I’ll tell her.’
Because she had to, she said, ‘It’s not going to be easy, I’m afraid. It concerns your father.’
He fell silent, clearly bewildered and waiting for her to explain.
‘There’s a history,’ Vivi said, thanking God that he knew nothing of the terrible suspicion that had driven her into an insane attempt last night to stop herself facing it. ‘Gil’s coming too. It would be good if we could talk somewhere we won’t be interrupted.’
To disguise how badly she’d injured herself on the rocks as she’d run, she was wearing long sleeves and ankle-length jeans. Josh might notice her fingers, scratched and swollen, but she’d try to keep them hidden inside the cuffs of her shirt. The exhaustion she felt, the swirling light-headness and raw ache in her chest was making everything seem slightly surreal, yet she knew with clarity that if he felt he couldn’t love her after this she would understand – and then she would want to run and run again …
When they arrived at Deerwood, pulling up beside his Land Rover in the farmyard, the place was teeming with activity. Teenagers seemed to be everywhere, working with the pigs and goats, clearing the barn, leading ponies into a field, piling boxes onto a forklift, or pushing wheelbarrows along a track signed to the vegetable gardens. No one paid them any particular attention, until Ellie came to greet them, followed by Josh.
In spite of looking perplexed and worried, he shook hands warmly with Gil and told Gina he was glad to meet her at last. When he looked at Vivi a shadow darkened his eyes, telling her he was aware she wasn’t herself, that he was worried, but he only said, ‘My mother’s inside. The kitchen is always busy, so she’s in the far sitting room.’
They found Shelley standing with her back to the large empty fireplace, her lovely face anxious and bewildered as she looked from Vivienne to Gina and back again, though her natural warmth made her greet them kindly.
When they were seated, Shelley on one sofa, Gina between Vivienne and Gil on another, Josh closed the door and went to stand where his mother had been when they’d come in. Vivi was glad to know that he’d be there for his mother when this was over; she would need him then.
Gil began, his solemn gaze moving between Josh and Shelley as he explained that Gina wanted to tell them what had happened the night Jack had died.
Though Shelley’s eyes widened with shock, she said nothing, simply turned her gaze to Gina and waited for her to begin.
Gina was sitting in her car watching people spilling out of the pub laughing, promising to see one another soon, and shouting playful insults as they drove off into the night. Though she was certain she knew no one, she kept her head down in case someone recognized her. She couldn’t seem to think straight. She had no idea now why she’d come. She wished she’d never called him, had never met him, could wipe away the summer as though it had never happened.
Her foot tapped up and down so fast it was like a drill; she began biting her nails, and muttering to herself. She didn’t want to see him. She hated and despised him in a way she’d never even known it was possible to hate and despise anyone, apart from herself. That was what he had done to her; his sneering, cold-hearted cruelty, his rich-boy disdain had made it almost impossible for her to live her life. Last year she’d loved being at uni, she’d had dozens of friends, a social life that was fun, bordering on wild, but everyone was doing it so why shouldn’t she? Now, she could hardly make herself go out at all.
OK, little slut, time to fuck off home and have a good life.
She was here, she reminded herself, because she needed him to take those words back, to understand that she was a decent person, from a loving family, not a nobody who deserved no respect.
She felt so confused and agitated that she couldn’t make herself think straight. She was afraid, and suddenly knew that she had to get out of here. She should never have come. All she had to do was start the car and drive away. He’d never know she’d turned up, and she wouldn’t ever need to speak to him again.
She turned the keys in the ignition, but suddenly the back doors of her car were wrenched open by unseen hands at the same time as he, Charlie Bleasdale, slipped into the passenger seat.
‘Good girl,’ he drawled proudly, and she felt sickened to her soul by the reminder of that unforgettable goodbye.
She had no idea who the others were, getting in behind her. She couldn’t see their faces in the darkness, could only hear them laughing and snorting, telling one another to ‘fuck off’, or ‘suck my balls’. Their voices were like his, plummy and guttural, and he slapped his thighs in mirth as his companions’ comments became cruder and drunker. She was suddenly so certain they were going to rape her, that he had told them she was easy, was theirs as many times as they wanted that night, that she started to scramble from the car.
‘No, don’t go,’ he laughed, dragging her back, and grabbing her by the jaw he turned her to face him.
‘Get out,’ she muttered. ‘You …’
‘Oh, now don’t be like that,’ he admonished. ‘I’ve been looking forward to seeing you.’
‘I – please,’ she stammered. ‘I want to go home.’
‘Sure, when we’re done you can go wherever you like. First, though, we’re going for a little drive. It shouldn’t take long. All you have to do is what you’re told, and everyone will be happy.’
The others seemed to think that was hilarious, and so did he.
She was shaking so violently she couldn’t even speak.
‘OK, start her up,’ he instructed.
She tried to push open her door again, to throw herself onto the tarmac, but someone grabbed her from the back and locked an arm round her throat as he growled, ‘Drive,’ in her ear.
Bleasdale leaned across her, turned the engine on, and gestured for her to move the car forward. With her head still pinned to the headrest it was hard to reach the pedals, but she made herself, telling herself that she could drive into town, stop at the police station, or even a traffic light, and scream.
She could barely see where they were going as she was directed along narrow, winding roads, so dark it was hard to make out anything beyond the hedgerows and one or two signs. Crawley Common; Footpath; Kesterly-on-Sea; Deerwood Farm.
Bleasdale half turned to the others. ‘One of you’ll have to stay in the car with her,’ he said. ‘M J, you come with me.’
‘Why him and not me?’ the other protested.
‘Because you’re an arse,’ Charlie retorted, and they all howled with laughter.
‘Tell me again what I’ve got to do,’ someone said.
‘Just follow me,’ Charlie answered. ‘We’ll be in and out of there faster than you can say the bastard had it coming.’
‘So who is he? I know you told me, but I was stoned at the time so you’ll have to give it up again.’
‘It doesn’t matter. He’s just someone who owes my family, so we’re collecting.’
‘What if he doesn’t have any cash in the place?’
‘For God’s sake, M J. All we have to do is grab something he’ll know is his, then we get out of there. He’ll piss his shitty pants when we send him photos and he realizes we’ve been in his house while his wife and kids were sleeping. He’ll think if we can do it once, we can do it again.’
‘But he’s not going to know it’s us, is he?’
‘He’ll know, but he won’t be able to prove it. OK, whatever your name is,’ he said to Gina, ‘there’s a gate up ahead, on the right. Pull in there and turn off the engine.’
She did as she was told, still in a headlock and rigid with fear, but taking some heart from what she’d overheard. It seemed raping her wasn’t what they were about – at least not yet.
Bleasdale was becoming more hyper by the second, practically leaping up and down in his seat as they passed around a bottle, burping and panting as they downed the neat vodka.
It was pitch-dark all around them, no cars were passing, and as far as Gina could make out there was no sign of a house or any other building.
If she could get out and run, maybe hide in a hedge …
‘OK, little slut,’ Bleasdale murmured, ‘just so we’re clear. You’re the driver tonight. If there’s any trouble, if anyone sees a car it’s going to be yours, so you’ll be the one with the explaining to do.’
She didn’t answer, couldn’t. She had no idea what he was talking about and she was still being held so tightly she was struggling to breathe.
He got out, leaving the passenger door open, and cold air rushed in, followed by more as someone clambered out of the back. She was still unable to turn her head; her legs were trapped by the steering wheel.
Charlie said, ‘If you want some sport with her while we’re gone, be my guest, just make sure you’re here when we get back.’
Blind terror slaked through her as he closed the door, leaving her to the mercy of the man who wouldn’t let her go.
Several excruciating moments followed. She could hear him breathing close to her ear; she could smell him, sweat, aftershave and booze.
‘Give me the keys,’ he growled.
She couldn’t make herself move.
‘Get the keys,’ he barked, and grabbing her hair he shoved her forward.
She took them from the ignition and put them into the hand he was holding out.
As he closed his fist around them he let her go, and the next instant he was at the driver’s door, locking her in. Then he was around the other side getting in next to her.
‘No, please,’ she begged, pressing herself to the door and fumbling for the handle. ‘Pease don’t hurt me,’ she sobbed.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, sounding bored with her now. ‘I might be a lot of things, but I’m not a fucking rapist. So just keep quiet, be a good girl, and before you know it we’ll be on our way home.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You’re not my type anyway,’ he grunted, and tipping back his head he emptied the vodka bottle into his throat.
Gina had no idea how much time passed before the others came back. It felt like hours, but maybe it was only minutes. She heard an owl, saw a fox cross the road and turn back again. Their breath fogged the windows, she shivered with cold and fear, tried to think how to persuade him to let her go, but then he was saying, ‘Here they are,’ and giving her the keys he told her to start the car.
As the headlights came on she saw two figures leaping over the gate. They tore open the back doors and Bleasdale was shouting, ‘Drive, fucking drive.’
In a panic she stalled the engine.
‘Fucking drive,’ he yelled, thumping the roof.
As she steered jerkily onto the road, someone growled, ‘What the fuck happened?’
Silence.
‘Charlie! What happened?’
‘You were there,’ Bleasdale growled.
‘Yah, and you fucking killed him.’
‘Don’t be a moron,’ Bleasdale spat, grabbing his throat. ‘Don’t ever fucking say that, all right?’ He let him go, pushed him back and clasped his hands to his head. ‘You don’t know he’s dead,’ he hissed. ‘You don’t know …’
‘I’m telling you, he’s fucking dead.’
Gina kept driving, following the passengers’ directions, praying they’d let her go as soon as they were ready to be dropped off.
A horrible silence dragged on. She didn’t dare to glance in the rear-view mirror, she didn’t want Bleasdale or anyone to catch her looking at them. She just wanted them to forget she was there.
Eventually she was told to stop and she realized they were outside the lodge at Dean Manor. As the others got out, Bleasdale leaned forward and thrust something hard and heavy into her hands.
‘What – what is it?’ she gulped, trying to drop it.
‘Call it a memento,’ he snarled. ‘Your fingerprints are on it now. If anyone asks we’ll say it was you who took us to the farmhouse, because you wanted to pull a train with us and Jack Raynor. You’re that kind of a girl, aren’t you? One who pulls trains. We’ll tell them you’ve been shagging Raynor since the night he threw us off his land.’
She was shaking her head violently. She didn’t understand. ‘But I don’t …’
‘Shut up, shut up.’ He stared at the object in her hands, but she could tell he wasn’t seeing it. ‘He might not be dead,’ he said raggedly, ‘but whether he is or isn’t, you need to keep your mouth shut about tonight and for fuck’s sake hide that away. If you don’t, it won’t be us who suffers, it’ll be you. Do you get that? You, and your family, and anyone you care for, because you go talking about this, I’ll come for you and you don’t want that, slut girl, I promise you, you really don’t want it.’
By the time Gina got home she’d wet herself in fear. Her face was so ravaged by terror and tears that she knew she couldn’t let her parents see her. Thankfully, they were asleep in bed and didn’t hear her stumble and creep past their door into her room. She was still carrying the heavy object he’d thrust at her, and turning on the bedside light she made herself check it for blood, certain she’d find some, that this was what he’d used … But there was none. It was a dark, solid, unstained bronze. She sank down on the bed, shaking with a horror she wasn’t even close to controlling.
You fucking killed him.
You don’t know he’s dead.
We’ll tell everyone it was your idea …
Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes, before she was able to peel off her soiled clothes, wrap herself in a robe and get into bed. She pulled the covers over her head as if total darkness and near-suffocation could somehow obliterate the nightmare. She was too traumatized even to cry.
She stayed in bed all the next day and the next. She couldn’t go back to uni, she couldn’t face the world; she couldn’t even leave her room. Her mother wanted to call the doctor, but Gina begged her not to.
‘I’ll be fine, Mum, honestly, please don’t fuss.’
She made herself listen to the radio and when she heard the news that Jack Raynor had died in a tragic accident at his home she almost screamed out loud. It couldn’t be true, she didn’t want it to be true, but it was.
There was no mention of a break-in, or a fight, or a bronze sculpture going missing …
But the sculpture was here, in her room, wrapped in a towel and stuffed to the back of the wardrobe.
Jack Raynor was dead.
She was tormented by thoughts of his wife and children, of what they must be going through, of all they didn’t know … She told herself she had to speak up, to make clear what had happened, but she didn’t know for certain what had, because she hadn’t been there, and they were saying it was a freak accident, and if she went to the police Charlie Bleasdale would tell them things about her and Jack Raynor that weren’t true, but Jack Raynor was no longer alive to confirm or deny it. It would be her word against Bleasdale’s and his friends.
As the days passed and Gina still wouldn’t or couldn’t get out of bed, and continued to refuse to see a doctor, her mother called one anyway.
By the time he arrived Gina had slipped out of the house. She’d been planning to go anyway – not planning exactly, she just knew that she had to go to Jack Raynor’s funeral. She needed to speak to his wife, to explain that it hadn’t been an accident. She would give back the bronze and tell her about Charlie Bleasdale. It wasn’t until she got to the crematorium that she realized she’d forgotten, in her distraught state, to bring it with her.
She parked a long way from the entrance gates and walked along a narrow track to get to the far side of the gardens. She stood in the sunlight, next to a child’s memorial stone, and watched the mourners who were there for Jack Raynor. She didn’t know any of them; she could barely make out their faces from where she was standing. Then she saw Charlie Bleasdale, dressed in black, and she was so terrified of him spotting her that she ran back to her car and drove and drove until eventually she arrived home.
A week or more went by and she was still too afraid to leave her room. Her parents called the doctor again, and after he’d examined her Gina sat shivering at the top of the stairs listening to what he told them. She didn’t understand post-trauma stress, hadn’t really heard of it before, but he was certain that she was bottling up a bad experience and needed some help to make her let it go.
Jack Raynor hadn’t deserved to die and she didn’t deserve to live. That was all she knew, and she’d never be able to let that go.
‘Gina,’ her mother said softly one morning, ‘you know you can’t go on like this. You’re wasting away, look at you, and Dad and I are worried out of our minds … Please tell me what’s happened. Let us help you.’
Gina said, ‘I’m pregnant,’ and as the words left her lips she started to sob and sob and couldn’t make herself stop.
Holding her close, soothing her as best she could, her mother said, ‘Yes, I know that, sweetheart, so now tell me …’ She took a breath. ‘Gina, did someone force themselves on you? Is that why you’re so scared?’
Gina couldn’t answer. She could only cling to her mother as if she’d drown without her.
‘If someone attacked you we can go to the police.’
‘No! No one forced me,’ Gina choked. ‘I didn’t … He …’
Her mother waited a moment, then said, ‘Is it someone we know?’
Gina shook her head.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘So whoever it is, have you told him? Is that what’s wrong? You told him and he doesn’t want to know?’
‘I don’t want him ever to know,’ Gina cried. ‘I never want to see him again. He’s … He’s …’
‘Ssh, it’s all right,’ her mother whispered as Gina started to retch. ‘We’ll work this out. It’ll be fine. Just tell me how far along you are.’
‘Four – four months.’
Her mother nodded. ‘It’s not too late for a termination. Is that what you want?’
Gina nodded, but then shook her head. She couldn’t go out, couldn’t leave the house ever again, not even for that.
Lying down on the bed next to her, her mother continued to hold her, stroking her hair and waiting for the tears to stop. In the end she said, ‘If you change your mind we can see a doctor.’
Gina had no idea what to do. Everything was so jumbled in her mind, so twisted by the horror of who she was and what she’d made happen that she couldn’t make any sense of her thoughts.
‘If you decide to keep it,’ her mother said, ‘then of course Dad and I will be here for you.’
How could she keep it? How could she not keep it? If she didn’t she’d be responsible for another death, and that would make her an even worse slut than she already was.
Shelley’s cracked and worn hands were pressed to her cheeks, her grey eyes glassy with shock. She was staring hard at Gina, though whether she was seeing her was hard to tell. Vivienne could hardly begin to imagine how she was feeling, but the distress of the past coming back like this, the effort to take it all in was palpable.
Josh’s hand was on his mother’s shoulder, comforting, strengthening. His eyes were down; his mouth set in a harsh, thin line. It wasn’t possible to gauge what he was thinking, but Vivi knew that concern for his mother would come before anything he was feeling for himself, or anyone else.
As Gina and Gil rose to their feet, Vivi got up too. They had no place here now. Gina had said what she’d come to say; it was time for them to leave.
‘I’m sorry,’ Gina whispered shakily. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Vivi glanced at Josh again, but he still didn’t look up. Beside him his mother remained trapped in the past, seeing only she knew what, as she struggled to come to terms with what she’d heard.
Vivi followed her mother and Gil across the room.
As they reached the door, Shelley said, ‘I saw you.’
Gina turned round, and she looked so fragile that Vivi wanted to wrap her in her arms.
‘At the crematorium,’ Shelley explained. ‘I’ve always wondered who you were. I thought … There were times I thought you were someone Jack had … known …’
Gina shook her head. ‘I never met him,’ she said.
Shelley looked up at Josh and began speaking quietly, reminding him of how she’d always known someone had been in the house that night, that it was what had woken her. ‘No one would believe me,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t any sign of a break-in … But now we know, it was Charlie Bleasdale, so Jemmie must have lied about them being in New York …’
Though Vivi vaguely recognized the name Jemmie, she wasn’t sure from where, and her concern right now was for her mother. The trauma Gina had suffered as a result of knowing Charlie Bleasdale had drastically altered, in some ways ruined, her life. She’d never been the same since then. She’d become a victim of so much fear and guilt that she’d seen every bad thing that had happened in her life as a form of punishment. It had even broken her marriage to Gil, for she’d been unable to accept that she deserved to be loved.
Shelley rose to her feet, and as she came to take Gina in her arms Gina started to break down. ‘There, there,’ Shelley soothed gently, pulling her in close. ‘Sssh, it’ll be all right. You must stop blaming yourself … You did nothing wrong …’
Vivi had to swallow as Gina clung to Shelley like a child. She felt Gil beside her, and put her head on his shoulder as his arm went round her. He was the only father she’d ever known, and God knew he was the only one she wanted.
‘I brought the bronze,’ Gina told Shelley. ‘Vivienne said there’s another.’
Shelley managed a smile. ‘Yes,’ she whispered hoarsely, ‘yes there is.’
As Gil went to get the male figurine Josh followed him outside, while Shelley led Gina into the kitchen to show her the female. The instant Gina saw it she gasped. There could be no doubt at all that the two figures belonged together.
When Gil returned and placed the male dancer in the niche with his partner, Shelley slipped a hand into Gina’s. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ she murmured.
Sensing how special the moment was, perhaps more meaningful than she could understand, Gina said, ‘Will you tell me about them?’
‘Of course,’ Shelley replied. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bronzes.
‘Maybe this is enough for today, Mum,’ Vivi said quietly.
Accepting that it was, Gina allowed Vivi and Gil to take her to the car. Vivi looked around for Josh, but there was no sign of him.
Before they drove off Shelley came out after them, her eyes still shiny with tears. ‘I think I met your mother once,’ she said to Gina.
Gina looked surprised.
‘Bella?’
Gina smiled and nodded.
Shelley smiled too. ‘She seemed … like a lovely woman.’
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Gina said, ‘Thank you. She was.’
Shelley held her eyes. ‘I’ll tell you another time about the bronzes.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
‘I’ll call,’ Shelley promised, and Vivi was in no doubt that she would.