Come Back to Me (32 page)

Chloe was frustrated. She had thought that last night she and her mother had broken through some kind of communication barrier, but today it seemed as if it had only been temporary, as her mother was back to fussing at every opportunity. Margaret had refused to enlighten Chloe further on the subject of her father, saying that first and foremost she needed some rest. She had insisted Chloe go back to bed, had brought up breakfast on a tray, and, unbelievably, chattered on about her journey and the latest gardening club gossip. When Chloe remained morose and uncommunicative, Margaret eventually left her alone to ‘rest'.

Chloe tried to settle down with her book, staring unseeingly at the pages. She dozed every now and then, intermittently hearing her mother banging around downstairs, presumably checking out where different things were kept.
She tried not to think about what was getting rearranged or thrown out, or silently noted as inferior.

She had intended to get up and cajole her mother into explaining things properly, but after a while found that tiredness descended upon her like a thick blanket.

At lunchtime, hungry, Chloe wandered downstairs but couldn't seem to stand up for long. Margaret made her some sandwiches, and urged her to lie down and not fight the tiredness. Chloe lay on the sofa this time, flicking through TV channels and then dozing off again.

When she came to properly, the curtains were closed and a small table lamp was the only light in the room. Margaret sat next to it, leafing through a magazine. She looked up and saw that Chloe was awake.

‘How are you feeling, darling?' Margaret immediately enquired.

‘Tired!' Chloe said, amazed that she could still feel so weary after sleeping all day.

‘You've got a fair bit of rest to catch up on, I would imagine. Can I get you a drink?'

‘Just a glass of water would be lovely.'

Margaret hurried out of the room and Chloe heard the gentle tinkling of glasses and a trickling of liquid before she returned, one hand bearing a glass of water and the other holding a glass of white wine.

‘I didn't know I had any wine,' Chloe said.

‘You didn't. I went and got some,' Margaret replied.

‘I must have slept more deeply than I thought.'

‘You were out like a light. Cheers.'

They clinked their glasses together and both took a gulp.
Chloe settled back against the soft sofa cushions, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. They sat in silence for a while in the soft light; then Margaret spoke while looking down into her glass.

‘I was surprised it took so long to drive here. It must be awful on a Friday night, never mind having to do it all again two days later. Thank you for coming to see me so often.'

‘That's okay.' Chloe immediately felt guilty at the amount of times she and Alex had moaned about the trip.

‘I think I might come down a bit more from now on.'

‘Of course,' Chloe replied.

‘Besides,' her mother continued, smiling, ‘you'll need help when the baby arrives.'

Chloe felt a pang of discomfort. She took a breath and bit the bullet. ‘I will, Mum. But I might also need some space.' She looked across at her mother, waiting to see her reaction.

‘Oh, I see,' Margaret replied, leaning around and plumping the cushion behind her. ‘Well, if you don't want me, I –'

‘Mum! Will you listen properly. I'm not saying I don't want you, I just want you to respect my right to a little space – surely that's not too much to ask.'

‘Okay, calm down, Chloe,' Margaret said snippily. ‘I'm just saying that when – if – you need me, I'll be here. It's just … I'd like to be useful to somebody, at least.'

‘I'm really not saying –' Chloe began immediately, but her mother raised a hand to stop her.

‘It's okay, Chloe. I know just what you're saying.'

Chloe gave up; whatever she said seemed to be wrong. There was an awkward silence, before Margaret finally sighed and said sadly, ‘I envy you, you know.'

‘You do?' Chloe asked, surprised.

‘You have it all ahead of you.' Margaret nodded her head towards Chloe's stomach. ‘So much joy, so many surprises …'

‘Is that how you felt?'

Margaret looked taken aback at the question. ‘Of course. Well, actually, I was scared rotten during my whole pregnancy with you, desperately praying you would be okay. But seeing you for the first time was the happiest moment of my entire life, even though I'd just been through fifteen hours of hell!'

‘Don't tell Anthony that!' Chloe laughed.

‘I don't think Anthony would care,' Margaret said sadly. ‘He's always been so independent-minded – so determined. Whereas you, you were my little girl, and you would look at me so openly, so trusting. In fact,' her voice cracked, ‘sometimes I would give anything to see you look like that again.'

‘Mum, I'm …'

Margaret shook her head. ‘Don't, Chloe. Life moves on.'

Chloe felt tears smarting. ‘Mum,' she said softly, ‘I'm so sorry about what happened … if I hadn't – with Dad – then …'

‘Don't you
ever
say that. Do you realise how silly that is? Thank god you did take me up there. You saved Anthony, Chloe. You saved us all, I think.'

Chloe mulled that over for a while. ‘Mum, did you really think you were having a heart attack?'

Margaret nodded, and cast her a quick, embarrassed glance. ‘Yes, for a little while – you have no idea how silly I felt when the doctors told me that it was just my nerves!'
She shook her head. ‘But Charlie … his began innocuously enough, so we didn't ring the ambulance straight away, and by the time we did, then got to the hospital, well, it was too late. So I think I panicked, presuming it was going to be the same with me. I know it sounds silly
now
, though. I am embarrassed about it, if that makes any difference.'

‘Mum, I don't want you to be embarrassed – it's just that – well, it feels like, although we talk a lot, we don't really
talk
, do we? I'm sorry I blew my top when I got up to see you; it's just I was so worried, and I've been so stressed out about –'

‘I shouldn't have made light of it,' Margaret interrupted. ‘But I felt silly and I didn't want you to worry and start fussing. It was a genuine mistake, Chloe, and I was pleased to see you – I'm very lucky to have a daughter who will drop everything for me in times of need, I realise that, especially with what you've had to contend with recently. I know it might have looked a bit selfish …'

Chloe was about to accept the invitation of the ensuing silence to tell her mother, no, of course it wasn't selfish, when she stopped. From now on, she was going to be honest. From now on, she wasn't going to accept excuses from anyone, including herself. From now on, she was going to do exactly what she thought was right, without being trapped by indecision because of worry that she might make a mistake. If she did veer off course, she'd just have to sort it out as she went along.

The weight that lifted from her as she had these thoughts was so enormous she felt almost faint from the release. She smiled, and her mother looked bemused.

‘What are you thinking?' she said.

‘It doesn't matter,' Chloe replied. ‘But I want you to tell me about my dad.'

Margaret looked worried, but she didn't try to hedge. ‘Okay, Chloe,' she said. ‘But I'm afraid it won't be nice to hear.'

Chloe pursed her lips. She was determined to know every thing. Margaret saw the gleam of her eyes and said, ‘Right. Well. After we left, there was quite a bit of contact with your father – my dad took most of the calls, it was pretty nasty. We threatened to go to the police if he didn't leave us alone, but since he was in the police force over in America, things were a bit tricky. But I felt terribly guilty about just leaving – I couldn't see a way out, I thought we'd have to inform the authorities because I couldn't let him get away with that – I mean, what if he … there were plenty of children around. But then … things were taken out of our hands. He went out on patrol one night a few weeks after we left and caught two youngsters stealing from a garage. He chased and caught one of them, beat the boy in a rage, even though it was basically food they were stealing … beat him so hard that the boy later died in hospital.'

Chloe's hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh my god.'

Margaret nodded. ‘His defence tried to get the charge down to manslaughter – irony of ironies, part of their argument was that his wife had just left him and taken his kids, and he wasn't of rational mind – but he still got convicted in the end. Which was a real relief. I knew which jail he was in to start with, but then I lost track of him. When Anthony went over, I tried to do some digging. It turned out he'd been
released, and searching for him took about a year, and a fair bit of money – but I found him.' Margaret moved across to the sofa, then reached out and put a hand on Chloe's knee. ‘He died, love. Around the time Anthony left for America. He had a stroke.'

Chloe's hand was still covering her mouth. She didn't know what to think. It seemed – surreal. She didn't really feel anything on hearing he was dead, which, in itself, felt wrong. She thought that perhaps she'd known all along the story went something like this, and she'd just put off having to hear it spoken aloud.

‘Poor Anthony,' she said eventually. ‘When did he find out?'

‘A few months after he got married,' Margaret replied sadly. ‘He rang one night, sounding like he'd had a few to drink, and told me I'd denied him the chance of ever knowing his father. He knew about the prison sentence before that, I think, but he said he still wanted the opportunity, that I should have let him make up his own mind before it was too late.'

‘And you didn't tell him anything,' Chloe said; a statement rather than a question.

Margaret shook her head, biting her lip, her eyes dewy. ‘I've always been so grateful that he was little when it … when we left America. It gave him a chance to forget. I don't want to take that away from him, ever, even though he's a man now.'

‘Oh, Mum.' Chloe put her hand on top of her mother's. ‘This must all have been so hard for you.' She paused, thinking; then, curious, asked, ‘Did you love our dad?'

Margaret nodded. ‘I did – well, I thought I did, but I think
I was also hypnotised by him. He was a powerful man, with a cruel streak, and it took what happened with Anthony to bring me to my senses. I have always felt guilty about putting both of you through that. Yes, you too, Chloe. You should never have had to experience that. You were a
child
. I was your
mother
. It was down to me.'

‘Mum, you didn't –' Chloe said automatically.

Margaret moved even closer to Chloe on the sofa, and began to stroke her daughter's hair, pushing loose strands back behind her ear. ‘Thank you for saying that,' she whispered. ‘However, although I may come across as a silly old fool at times, when I think of you and Anthony, in my heart I am a lioness, and you will always be my cubs. I want to roar at anyone who threatens you and tear the heart out of anyone who hurts you.'

There was silence for a moment, and then Chloe looked up at her mum, a soft smile on her face. ‘Poor Alex,' she said.

‘Quite,' Margaret replied, and smiled back.

The last twenty-four hours had been crazy.

When Amy had begun to scream, the man had bolted out the main doors of the courthouse. Alex had been transfixed by both things, but Detective Thompson had set off in pursuit like a cheetah after prey, as did half a dozen court security guards.

They hauled him back in moments later; Detective Thompson coming first, wiping his brow, shirt half-untucked and tie askew. He straightened his clothing and flattened his hair as he walked towards Alex and Amy.

As Amy saw the security men bringing the man back in, she moved closer to Alex and buried her head in his chest, and he put his arms around her.

The detective moved around so Amy could see him without having to move her head.

‘Is that one of them?' he asked her gently.

Amy nodded.

‘I'm sorry, Amy, but I need you to look at him quickly and make a positive ID,' the detective said softly.

Slowly, Amy turned her head. The man stared right back at her, remorseless; sneering, almost.

Alex watched Amy as she nodded.

Before he could think, Alex had thrust Amy out of his arms towards the detective. He heard himself screaming obscenities at the cocky monster in front of them, determined to rip him apart. He had almost reached him when one of the guards grabbed Alex's arms. He writhed to be free and more guards came over. He was bundled outside as he fought back, and they pinned him on the ground.

‘Pull him up,' a voice said.

As they hauled him to his feet, Alex could feel his face still distorted with the rage that consumed him. When he was upright, Detective Thompson stepped forward until he was so close their noses were almost touching.

‘I know you want to,' he said, his eyes boring into Alex's. ‘We all want to. But it won't help. So calm down. You need to look after Amy.'

As soon as he said her name, Alex spotted her, standing behind them, her face tear-streaked, her expression distressed, and the fight began to drain out of him. He held his hands up in acquiescence, and muttered ‘Sorry, sorry' as the officers gradually stood back. They didn't go far, in case, he guessed, he ran indoors again to find the bastard and kill him. Instead he went over to Amy, and put his arms around her once more.

‘It's all right,' he said, pulling her close and stroking her hair, whispering against it. ‘It's all right.'

She pulled back. ‘I thought I didn't recognise all of them,' she said, alternately looking at the detective and Alex, her voice shaky and high. ‘But it's been ten years and I –'

‘The man we just arrested was the brother of one of the men convicted today,' Detective Thompson informed them. ‘We had some issues with whether the third man belonged to your case as well, as he had an alibi, but it was only a wobbly one; and his brother would have been only eighteen when they attacked you, so we weren't sure. Without you we had no way of checking.'

‘Why didn't you tell me this before?' Amy asked, horrified that one of her attackers had been wandering freely so close to her.

‘I'm sorry.' The detective looked ashamed. ‘I didn't want to frighten you, as you were already so distressed when I last saw you. I thought that when today was out of the way, we could talk properly.'

Amy looked astounded for a moment. ‘Did you just set that up, so I would see him?'

‘No, of course not.' Detective Thompson seemed affronted. ‘I've never seen him at court before; if I had, I wouldn't have let him near you. He must have just come in for the verdict, and I'm surprised at that, as, unless they're in the dock, his family usually stay well away from anything involving the law.'

‘Oh.' Amy looked at her feet.

‘So what now?' Alex asked, suddenly aware that this was a very public conversation. People were passing them on the way to and from court, many eyeing them curiously, probably having just witnessed the scenes inside.

‘For now, we detain him for questioning,' the detective said. ‘You two head back to your hotel, and I'll come and see you later.'

 

They returned to their hotel in silence.

‘I'm sorry, Amy,' Alex said at one point.

‘Don't be,' she replied. ‘I wish they'd let you kill him. I would have watched.'

They didn't say much after that and spent the next few hours feeling restless. The hotel had an outdoor swimming pool so they swam for a while, then came back to their room. Alex was just wondering how long they'd be climbing the walls for, when the phone rang and the receptionist informed them that Detective Thompson was in the lobby.

They headed downstairs and sat with him in the large open-plan reception area.

‘He's practically confessed,' the detective said. ‘We'll be able to charge him, I'm sure. I'll take a statement from you both about what happened today, and then, further down the line, we might need you back again, Amy.' He looked at her seriously. ‘Is that okay? Without you, if he decided to try to get off, we wouldn't have much of a case. I'm hopeful he might spare us all and go with guilty, but we just don't know what will happen once the lawyers have had their hands on him for a while.'

They all knew he was asking Amy if she was a flight risk.

‘I can do what you need me to,' she answered, meeting his eyes. Alex believed her. From the look of it, the detective did
too. In fact, Alex thought, it looked as though Amy believed herself as well.

‘Well, let's go down to the station now, and do the statements, and then you're free to go,' Detective Thompson said. ‘No point in keeping you here longer than needed.'

 

The next morning, Alex woke up before Amy, and lay staring at the patch of blue sky he could see through the window. He heard her stirring sometime later, and turned around and smiled at her. She smiled briefly back, then got up, headed for the bathroom and got dressed. When they were both ready, they went down for breakfast.

‘What do you want to do today?' Alex asked, munching on a mouthful of toast.

Amy looked at her plate, thinking.

‘I want to leave,' she said, looking up. ‘To find a flight and go – back to England, or anywhere else, I guess; just away, for starters. Is that okay?'

Alex nodded. He knew there was no point remaining there any longer, but leaving meant taking the next step. It meant he had choices to make. And he didn't feel ready. He didn't think he would ever feel ready.