Harkett's Haven (14 page)

Rachel sat and listened intently, her mind racing through her options skittishly. Claire knew who she was and who was looking for her. She wanted Eric and Rachel was in her way. Had sh
e already contacted Tom? Was he on his way? Of course not. She had only just broken in to her house. Had she found what she wanted? Her passport was upstairs in a drawer. It would have been easily found. Could she still deny everything? Her thoughts were jumbled and confused, her fear making her thought processes jumpy and stuttering.

‘I arrived just as you were heading off on the boat. I parked on the
beach as soon as I saw you arrive on the island and thought about slashing your tyres, thought about smashing your windscreen, ripping the seats.’

She smiled bitterly.

‘Oh yes. I thought about all those things but I decided that now was the time to check out if Rachel Somerville was really the missing bride-to-be Rachel Christensen.’

Abruptly she stood up.

‘Time for more coffee Rachel’

She took her mug and snatched Rachel’s from her hand.
She walked slowly to the kitchen and Rachel stood from her seat, keeping Claire in sight all the time. Was she capable of sticking a knife in her back, slitting her throat as she sat?

She watched the tall, blonde woman work i
n her kitchen, taking the whisky bottle and half filling their cups.

Rachel felt that her best option was to remain silent. This was Claire’s show and she was the principle actress.

‘Sit down Rachel.’ Her voice was commanding and Rachel did as she was told. A hot cup was thrust into her hand and Claire sat back down in the armchair.

‘You know that I thought I had him.
Thought that it was just a matter of time before he would decide that I was the one to settle with, to be a mother to Esme. It was going to plan...until he plucked you out of the sea like some kind of flotsam.’

‘I parked the car a short distance down the road and decided to try to find a way in here. I was prepared to smash a window, do what I had to do, but you bloody well left the door open.’

She laughed.

‘It made things that bit easier and I figured I would have as much time as I needed
.’ She took a deep drink from her mug again but Rachel was feeling the effects of the first cup she had had and decided to take no more.

‘
I had a look round, I wanted to know what you were all about Rachel. I looked at your books, checked through your kitchen cabinets, used some of your hand cream, tried your perfume. I checked for mail but I couldn’t find much of that...... which was strange.’

She looked at her questioningly.

‘I made my way up the ladder, upstairs. I went through your drawers, smelled your scent. And guess what I found in your knickers drawer?’

She smiled again, sickeningly delighted with herself.

‘You can imagine how I felt when I opened that last page of your passport. Rachel Christensen. Christensen. I’d found you. And your passport has given me a way to get Eric back.....I’m guessing that by now you pretty much know what’s coming.’

‘Anyway, I
made my way back down to make myself a celebratory cup of something when I saw you returning....and hid in the bathroom. I saw him fuck you.....you might as well have cut my heart out and held it beating in front of my face.’

She took a deep, shaky breath.

‘But you know the worst bit for me was the “I’ve fallen in love with you” bit....I thought I was going to be sick.’

She gazed into the fire and almost as a private afterthought, said to herself
, ‘He’s never fucking well said that to me.’

She looked at Rachel directly, ‘You know what kept me going?
Your passport, clutched in my hand. Knowing it was my passport to getting you out of my life....out of his life....for good.’

‘So now, the best bit Rachel
. Now the bit that kept me from shrivelling up as I heard you moaning as he fucked you.’

She paused and took another gulp of her whisky. She gazed directly at Rachel,

‘I want you to leave. Leave by tomorrow. Pack your things without a word to Eric or Esme. I want him to find no trace of you if he comes back here. No forwarding address, contact details, nothing.’

Rachel’s eyes op
ened wide, shocked at the speed at which Claire wanted her out of Eric’s life, away from here. She thought about the practicalities of the move, where she would go. But it was a price she knew she would have to pay to remain anonymous and safe from Tom/foafe fro.

‘I don’t know what the story is with you and this man but I know that you left in a hurry and didn’t want to be found. You’ve done pretty well so far.’ She paused,
adding her piece de resistance, her voice sharp and low.

‘If you don’t leave tomorrow, if Eric finds out what’s going on, if you don’t vanish into thin air, I have Tom Sullivan’
s company number on speed dial and won’t hesitate to call. ......I’m almost tempted to do it now. Let him take you back to whatever you’ve been trying to escape.’

Rachel’s heart stopped beating momentarily and her face blanched.

Claire watched with interest.

‘I’m a generous woman Rachel...and besides, I think my purpose is best served by you simply moving on, disappearing.....’
She paused and added, ‘I can’t understand why you’d want to leave a man like that..... but .....I’m sure you have your reasons, eh Rachel?’

She raised her voice,
‘Do I have your understanding?’

‘Yes.’ Rachel said simply. She felt sick and exhausted.

‘I didn’t mean this to happen Claire. It wasn’t my intention to get involved with someone......’

Claire held up a hand and shook her head.

Rachel stopped speaking.

‘I don’t want to hear your side of things Rachel. I don’t want to know anything mor
e about your sordid fuck with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Or the past you want to run from. I just want you to leave and get out of my life.’

Rachel nodded miserably.

Claire stood up, wobbling slightly.

‘Well. I think it’s safe to say that my business here is concluded. I’m heading home to have a hot bath and some champagne.
..... I think a celebration is called for...... and  I’ll be thinking of this time tomorrow......when you are gone and Eric will be on his way back to me, tail between his legs, looking to get back between mine.’

Relief swept through Rachel that Claire was about to leave her home. She had a lot to organise and sort out, such little time to do it. She would b
e up half the night packing the things she needed.

Rachel stood up and almost as an afterthought, Claire strode up to her and slapped her hard across the face.

Rachel gasped and put her hand to her hot, red cheek.

‘
God that felt good.’ Claire smiled icily at her. She walked from her, stopping to pick up her things as she left.

She stood at the door and turned to her once again.

‘Tomorrow Rachel. I never want to see or hear of you again.’

She walked out the door and slammed it hard behind her.

Rachel crumpled into the sofa and cried, hard, bitter tears, her face smartin>< face sng from the slap. She buried her head into the cushion and wished the world would disappear. Most of all she regretted her meeting with Eric Harkett. If she could turn back time she would have left his home at the first opportunity, not been seduced by his charm.

Her sobs came free and easy
, as much a release of built up tension and fear as sadness.

Her
wracking sobs diminished into gentle, silent tears and then at last she fell into a deep dreamless sleep, exhaustion taking over.

She woke up cold, the
stove fire gone out, waning light casting long shadows around her. She had lost track of time and for a moment couldn’t think where she was, what time it was. She sat up and glanced at her watch. Seven eighteen. She managed to coax the dying embers of the fire back to life and threw on a few logs to keep the warmth up in the cottage. What use was there being cold while she worked?

Sleep, the great healer, had cleared her mind and she f
elt able to think logically. Feeling light headed she knew she must eat something to keep her going for the long night that stretched before her.

Not wanting to cook, she grabbed an apple and made a sandwich with a croissant. She ate without enjoyment, only purpose, mentally making a list of things to do.

Feeling better for having eaten something, she went to the bathroom and cleaned the makeup off her face. She decided to shower to freshen up and the hot water on her skin washed away the blackness, the feeling of being unclean that she had been left with after her conversation with Claire. Freshened and warmed she felt resigned to the task ahead. She knew she had no choice but to leave and she now felt resigned to the task ahead. She felt numb, an automaton. She pulled her hair back into a damp ponytail and went to her bedroom, pulling her cases from the storage cupboards under the eaves. She had four large cases. They would have to do.

She would
take what she could, choosing carefully. She decided to start downstairs; her clothes she could pack quickly in the morning.

She threw her cases down the
ladder and followed quickly. She placed the large cases on the table and started at her book case. She packed the few indispensible, treasured volumes she couldn’t do without and then moved on to the bathroom taking everything except the things she would need in the morning. She cleared the drawers of the few personal belongings she had put away. Claire had not found any paperwork because Rachel had burned anything she had received, just in case. She berated herself for not hiding her passport in a better place. Too late now. And would it really have made any difference to someone who really wanted to know who she was? She thought not. The internet had given Claire all the information she had needed.

Rachel carefully cleared her kitchen cupboards, removing any perishables and binning them.
Everything else she left neatly in the cupboards. She would write to her landlord and pay her rent as contracted. Lists, lists, things to do. As she packed she briefly considered where she would go. Would she go back to Sweden again? It was a place she had loved and she had been made to feel very welcome there. Or would she remain in Britain, maybe a seaside town further south? She packed quickly and efficiently, surprising herself how little she had gathered since she had bespae she hen here. Perhaps she had subconsciously anticipated that this day would come. Gradually her little home was cleared of everything that was hers; her life packed into a few suitcases.

It was a little after nine and she decided to take a break and make a coffee.
A sense of peace had descended on her, suffusing her gently and warmly.

She sat at the table as the kettle boiled and looked around her. Her little cottage was once again bare, converted from her place of sanctuary to the anonymous home that she had fi
rst walked into in what seemed a lifetime ago.

She sighed and stood to reach for another apple.

There was a knock at the door.

Rachel’
s heart lurched; fear and panic flooded through her veins like icy water. The knock came again, loud and persistant.

7.

She stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. Her heart hammered against her ribcage and her mouth turned dry.

Could it be Tom? N
ot so soon after her confrontation with Claire late this afternoon surely. And Claire was holding the threat of calling Tom over her, banking on it to get Rachel out of her life. It couldn’t be Tom. She started breathing again, gulping air into her aching lungs. She felt faint.

Was it Claire back to check if she was packing as instructed?

She knew she couldn’t hide and pretend not to be in. The lights were on in all the rooms in the house and whoever stood knocking on the door would know she was in.