A Twist of Fate (29 page)

‘So why do it?'

‘Because I wanted to.' Truth.

‘Are you still in a relationship with Mr Mason?'

I looked down and gave a slight shake of the head. I hadn't looked once at Paul. I couldn't.

‘Excuse me, Miss Frobisher, you must speak clearly.'

‘No, I'm not.'

‘How did it end?'

‘I ended it.'

‘Why? Because you couldn't trust him?'

‘No. Because … Because I couldn't trust myself.' The murmuring started. I glanced at Paul at last. He looked at me for a moment, steady and clear, before turning his eyes down.

‘How do you mean, Miss Frobisher?'

‘What happened to the plane was a shock, something that turned my world upside down. Every concept I had of life, every idea of how things were going to be had to be re-evaluated. I thought I had it all planned out, and then I fell thirty thousand feet out of the sky onto a desert island with a man I probably would never otherwise have had much to do with. None of that was part of my plan.'

‘In what way was Mr Mason a man you would never have had much to do with?'

I struggled to remain composed. ‘I don't know. I can't get my head round it. We're different. We come from different places, our backgrounds, our expectations. He wasn't the sort of man I thought I'd ever go for. I just couldn't get my head round that as I thought I had it all planned out.'

‘Why was that? Did he intimidate you?'

‘No. Nothing like that. What I mean was … I wasn't expecting to fall in love with him.'

Instead of murmuring, there was this time a silence so profound it was easy to forget there was anyone else there.

‘I see.' The lawyer faltered and his lips pursed in annoyance at me. ‘So I ask you again, why did you end it? There must have been a reason why a well-educated, sensible girl like you would have ended your relationship?'

I looked straight at Paul again and clarity hit me with such force I almost gasped. ‘I ended it because I'm a fool.'

I paused briefly, ensuring he read my openness. But before the barrister could start again, I continued, ‘Paul Mason is the most reliable, steady, decent man I know. I'm supposed to be traumatised and going through huge problems because of the crash, and I'm not because of him, only him. He kept me grounded, kept me focused and calm, not only in the immediate aftermath of the crash, but ever since. He always seemed to know what to do, and even if he didn't, he had this soothing attitude that calmed me. He has always been there for me, and now I've thrown that away because I was frightened of it feeling too good. I thought I didn't know him. I do know him. He's the best of men. Miss Sunley was lucky he turned up in her life when he did. And I was lucky he turned up in mine. But now I've lost him through my own stupidity.'

Again, I forgot there was anyone else there. Paul was staring at me, his blue eyes luminous even from such a distance. They were bright from brewing tears.

I was pulled back to the present by the terse sigh of the prosecuting lawyer. ‘I have no further questions, your honour.' He sat down quickly, tossing his papers on the desk in disgust. I was led from the witness box.

The rest of the trial went by in a whirl. I was barely aware of it. The day ended and we were allowed home. The defence case was over. Now it was only speeches and summing up.

I went home and lay on my bed, unable to eat or barely think. It had taken all this madness to make me see sense, and now it may be too late. Only exposure in a public court for me had made me admit what I'd always known to myself. That I wanted him, that I needed and adored him. But I may have realised it all too late.

Thirty-four

The next day in court, I arrived early. Paul looked at me as he was led in. We exchanged the briefest smiles.

I glanced at Natalie Sunley. Her usual calm demeanour was askew. She looked more nervous than I'd seen her throughout. It was difficult going back over the past, and now this was it; her years of torture were reaching their denouement.

She sat nervously, fiddling with her hair. At one point she glanced up at me. I almost smiled, but somehow my mouth defied me and would not turn up.

Thirle stood and addressed the jury. ‘Your honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, in a moment you will be asked to consider one simple thing – did Paul Mason threaten and assault Natalie Sunley? Did he steal from Caton's Jewellers? How can you not convict? There is no evidence of another perpetrator on the scene; Mr Mason's fingerprints are everywhere and, most significantly, Miss Sunley is certain of her identification of him as her attacker. This man –' At this, he turned and pointed straight at Paul. ‘beat Miss Sunley so much that her left eye swelled up and she now has blurred vision through it. He assaulted her so hard she endures permanent ligament damage. He tied her hands so tightly behind her back she suffered nerve damage in her fingers, she has scars on her neck … This man did that. Paul Mason did –'

‘No.'

Natalie Sunley had spoken. From where she was seated just behind the lawyers, she stood up. ‘No. He didn't.'

At first nobody said a thing, as if they weren't sure if they had heard right.

‘Miss Sunley? Do you wish to consult your counsel? If you wish to speak you must go through them,' the judge said.

‘I want to say it now. Paul Mason didn't beat me and tie me up. It wasn't him. It was another man. That man had brown eyes and a scar under his eye. I remember that. Paul Mason didn't hurt me when he held me. He spoke kindly to me. He asked me if I was all right. I remember now.'

The silence extended to the judge, who seemed at a loss for words. Eventually, he asked softly, ‘Miss Sunley … do you realise what you're saying?'

‘Yes. He didn't do it. What he said makes sense. It makes perfect sense because it's the truth.'

‘Miss Sunley … are you sure of this?'

‘Yes. I'm certain.'

‘But … why accuse Mr Mason in the first place?

‘I don't know. Because … I wanted retribution. I'd waited so long for someone to hurt like I hurt, to feel the pain I went through. When I saw him again after all these years, I knew he'd been there, I recognised him from that night and … He would do. He could be my scapegoat. I could let it all out on him. He was the closest I could get.'

The judge took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. ‘Miss Sunley … Mr Mason is standing trial accused of a crime which could result in a lengthy prison sentence. You do realise that your actions could have resulted in the incarceration of an innocent man?'

She looked up solemnly and nodded. ‘Yes. I started to believe it myself, I wanted to believe it as I had nothing else, but sitting here and listening to everyone, the real memories won't go away. He didn't do it. He only tried to help. I think I … I think I owe him my life.'

With a sigh, the judge said, ‘Counsel, a word. And the OIC too, please.' He rose, and the lawyers and police officer in charge of the case left with him. I became aware of a dull weight pressing on my chest. I could scarcely breathe. I looked at Paul. He was staring ahead of him, unblinking, unseeing.

After what seemed an age, the judge re-entered with the lawyers, who all looked distinctly fed up.

‘Mr Mason, it seems there is no charge to answer after all. Indeed, it would seem that your actions in this case were only good, selfless, and honourable. In fact, if you had not arrived when you did, Miss Sunley may not be with us today. As much as I despair that we have put everyone through this, I must say that there is nothing more to be done.

‘Miss Sunley, I hope that this has served as some sort of catharsis, if nothing more. Your true assailant remains unpunished, but rest assured, with this additional evidence, we will do all we can to apprehend him. The court could pursue a charge of perjury against you, but I feel you have suffered enough and therefore I rule that we shall not prolong this further. The court is dismissed. Mr Mason, you are a free man.'

Paul opened his mouth and I could see the rise in his chest as air flowed into it. He was surrounded immediately by people rushing up to him to shake his hand and congratulate him. He was so inundated that I could no longer see him. I slipped from the court and outside.

The world seemed brighter than usual, almost blinding. I stood for a time, unaware and unsure what to do. I noticed a café opposite the court. My legs almost gave way but I managed to make it inside and order a cup of tea. My hands shook as I picked it up and as I tried to sip it juddered and I spilt some.

‘Are you all right?' asked a girl cleaning the table next to me.

‘Yes, yes, sorry. I just … I've just realised what a complete idiot I am.'

‘Join the club. Still, always time to change things though, hey?' She smiled warmly.

I made the tea last. It was stone cold when I finally finished it. The media were gathered in force outside the court. I could see the steps. They were there for Paul.

Always time.

Picking up my bag, I dashed out and stood behind the massed ranks of photographers and journalists. I craned my neck. No one had noticed me, thankfully; they were too preoccupied with getting the first shot of Paul.

His barrister emerged first, followed by Paul. He looked relaxed and calm, but then he had during the entire trial. Aston smiled warmly at the media and started to speak.

‘My client is clearly delighted and thrilled with the course of events today and happy that his innocence has been vindicated. We ask now that he is left in peace to continue with his life without excessive media intrusion.'

‘Mr Mason! Mr Mason! Do you have anything to say?' bellowed the journalists.

Paul started to head off, putting up a hand to decline further questions, but then he saw me. No one else mattered, no one else was even there. There was only him and me, just the way it had started, just the way I'd always see it.

I must have pushed past people – or perhaps they moved out of my way. They melted, as far as I was concerned. He smiled. Not the wonky smile for once, but a full, open smile of pure exhilaration. It was taking too long to reach him, he was infuriatingly far away, every step seemed ten times longer than usual. But then I was there and he was holding me. He held me so tight I wondered if he would squeeze the breath from me, but even that I didn't mind. We were back as we should be. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' I repeated, over and over, but he took my head and turned it up to him and kissed him.

I broke away to say, ‘I love you.' He whispered it back to me and then kissed me again, open mouthed and consuming.

Something was deafening. Clicks and whirrs and a thick miasma of sound which was fighting with the warm glow of pure bliss from Paul. Together we slowly came to a bewildered realisation that we were not alone. We'd never been alone, but in the ecstasy of coming together, we'd forgotten for a time. We turned and were met with uncountable flashes and camera lenses and microphones. Faces, distorted and almost macabre in their desperation, fought for our attention. None of them got it.

In the chaos which threatened to engulf everyone, Paul and I remained rock steady, our own little island. A voice managed to break free over the others.

‘Paul, Callie – can you confirm that you are an item, that you're in a relationship?'

Paul opened his mouth to speak, but then turned to me and cocked an eyebrow to invite me to answer.

I turned to the questioner and replied unequivocally, ‘Yes, we are.'

Thirty-five

The sound of waves crashing gently on the shore hushed regularly in my ears. As I lay on my tummy, I could feel the heat of the sun scorching my back to the point of discomfort, just like I had when I'd lain on the beach last year.

It was a year ago today that we had fallen out of the sky and into each other. A year ago today that we had landed on our island. We'd tried to return to it, one of the many small, uninhabited islands in the Indian Ocean, but the cost and logistical madness had been prohibitive. So we chose somewhere far away instead. Barbados. It was just as sandy, just as hot, but in addition to the palm trees and lagoons, there was also a five-star hotel, Wi-Fi, freshly cooked food (not on a plastic tray), and air conditioning.

‘You need some more sun cream?' I knew that gorgeously rumbling voice and allowed myself an indulgent smile before humming a yes.

It would have been luxury overkill if I'd got a full view of Paul's naked torso as well as being stroked and rubbed by him, so I denied myself, and kept my eyes tightly shut as he did just that, smoothing the cream over my back with an assurance and sensuality he wasn't even aware of. I wished his hands would move yet further down, but that may be a little unseemly by the poolside as others looked on. Patience was still something I needed to cultivate when with Paul. With anyone else I would have moved beyond the desperate, crazy, need-you-every-moment sex addict stage by now, but with him I couldn't imagine it ever ending.

Once again, after the trial, the media attention had become almost unbearable. Paul had gone from hero to demon then to misunderstood saviour. And once the truth of our relationship was revealed, we were in more demand than ever. This time, we said no to everyone apart from some carefully managed interviews for one or two Sunday newspapers. But, slowly, things died down, and we were able to return to relative normality.

A few weeks after the bizarre end of the trial, a man in prison bragged to his cellmate, laughing about the bloke who'd gone through a trial for a crime he'd committed. This man had brown hair and a scar under his eye. He was already serving fifteen years for another armed robbery in 2009. He would be tried for the Caton robbery later in the year. Poor Natalie Sunley would have to relive it again, but this time, they had the right man.

My mother was furious with me for all of a day when she first saw the images of me kissing Paul splashed on the front page of the
Telegraph
, but I deliberately brought Paul over that weekend and essentially forced him on her. And, as I know all too well, no one can resist Paul. He won her over the moment he asked for more of her lemon drizzle cake. My father was cooler to start with, but once he'd ascertained the full nature of Paul's business and gathered that it was gaining a real foothold in the emerging markets, he soon relented. By the third time they met, my father even clapped an arm on his shoulder in farewell. Paul was officially part of the family.