HIS OTHER SON (23 page)

‘I really didn’t
know what to do. I couldn’t believe she really wanted that… that monster for a
father. I knew I couldn’t just leave it so I decided to wait for her to get
back and have it out with her once and for all. I busied myself, vacuuming the
flat, dusting. I was tidying her bedroom, picking up her clothes from where
she’d dropped them on the floor. As I lifted her blouse from beside the bed I
found this.’ June
Gafney
got unsteadily to her feet
and went to the sideboards, pulling open a drawer and taking out a fat manila
envelope. She handed it to Gareth and sat back down heavily in her chair.

There were six
sheets of foolscap paper in the envelope, each filled with a neat script in
black ink, together with some faded photographs and a battered theatre
programme dating from the turn of the century. He spent the next twenty minutes
reading through them. As every minute that passed unravelled another piece of
Finlay
Crawford’s history, and uncovered another horror. By
the time he’d finished he was shaking. ‘How did the accident happen?’ he said.
‘How did she die?’

June
Gafney
was shaking
her head. ‘There was no accident,’ she said, tears pouring freely down her
thread-veined cheeks. ‘I killed Mary, Mr Barker.
I
killed Mary!’

The light was
beginning to fade from the sky when
Finlay
Crawford
slammed the car door and crunched across the gravel drive to the front door. He
let himself in and stormed through the house to the study. He’d had an hour’s
car journey from London to simmer about the situation, and slowly he was coming
to the boil. Stein was in the study waiting, but shrank back into his
wing-backed armchair as Crawford burst through the door and slammed it behind
him.

           
‘What a bloody fiasco!’ Crawford
said, walking across to the drinks’ cabinet and pouring himself a scotch. ‘Has
Martin been in touch again?’

           
‘All the arrangements are made,’
Stein said. He’d seen Crawford angry before, but never to this extent. ‘You
will
keep your side of the bargain?’

           
Crawford wheeled on him. ‘I gave my
word, didn’t? The most important thing to me is getting my daughter back, and I
will sacrifice everything to do it… even my pride, Clifford, and you know how
much that will cost me.’ He swilled the whisky around his mouth before
swallowing and checked his watch. ‘So, what are the arrangements?’ He sat down
in an armchair opposite Stein’s and closed his eyes while the other man spoke,
only interrupting to clarify a point of detail.

           
‘So we have thirty minutes,’
Crawford
said,
when the other man finished speaking.
‘I’m going down to the beach to wait.’

           
‘Have the others all been
contacted?’ Stein said.

           
‘I made over thirty telephone calls
before leaving Mayfair. Changing the date of the ceremony at such short notice
was something of a nightmare, but we have the necessary thirteen including
yourself and me, with three members in reserve, so I’m not expecting to
encounter any problems.’

           
Stein nodded and allowed himself to
relax a little. Perhaps things would be all right after all.
Finlay
was his best friend, and given his word that he
would not use the power of the Brotherhood against Martin and the girl. From
his chair he watched Crawford leave the room and heard the car start. He stood,
walked across to the desk and pulled open the drawer.

           
Lying at the bottom, hidden by a
pile of paperwork was his service revolver and a box of ammunition. He took out
the gun and the box, flipped open the chamber and slid in the bullets one by
one. He’d never known
Finlay
break his word before…
but there was a first time for everything. And if there was a choice between
Martin and the Brotherhood, he would chose his own flesh and blood over a group
of people whose only common bonds were selfishness and evil.

Although he’d had
many disagreements with his son in the past, and he didn’t approve of the boy’s
behaviour now, Martin represented the only link he had to his dear Eleanor, his
beloved wife, whom cancer claimed fifteen years ago. And until the Brotherhood
approved his appeal to resurrect her, she lived in Martin – in his laugh, in
the sideways look he often gave, in his bearing. He couldn’t bear to lose that.

           
He slipped the revolver into the
waistband of his trousers and went downstairs to the room to make the final
preparations.

June
Gafney
sat in the chair, her eyes gazing at some invisible
point in the far corner of the room. ‘It was early evening by the time she got
home. I was waiting for her. I felt we should talk about it; try to come to
some kind of understanding. But she wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say.
She wasn’t interested in my feelings. She’d met her father now, met
Finlay
Crawford and knew everything about him. And instead
of being repulsed and disgusted by him, she embraced what he was. Admired him
even!

           
‘We argued. We were standing in the
hallway of her apartment block. I’d stormed out of her flat, telling her that
if she was going to continue to see
Finlay
then I
wanted nothing more to do with her, even though it broke my heart to say it. We
were both crying. I was about to walk down the stairs to the street and Mary
grabbed my arm. I don’t know why but I
spun around and slapped her. I was just so
angry. It was the first time I’d ever lifted a hand to her and I can still see
the look of shock on her face.

           
‘I don’t really know
what happened next. One minute we were standing facing each other at the top of
the stairs and the next she stumbled and fell backwards. I think she died the
moment her head hit the first stair. I heard a crack, like a twig snapping. She
just tumbled down, over and over until she landed at the bottom.

           
‘I was on my way down
to try to help, even though I knew it was hopeless, when I heard the key turn
in the lock and the front door started to open inwards. Of course, it couldn’t
open far because Mary’s body was… I ran back up and took the service stairs to
the back of the block. I just wanted to get out of there. I had to get away
from that madness.’ She stopped talking, looking at Gareth beseechingly, hoping
for understanding.
For forgiveness.

           
Gareth got to his
feet. ‘I’ve got to go and find Meg,’ he said.

           
She reached out and
grabbed his hand. ‘You
do
understand?’ she said imploringly.

           
He shook his head. ‘I
don’t understand any of it,’ he said.

Finlay
Crawford parked the car in the lee of an oak tree and walked down
the rocky path to the shore. The tide was out and a brisk wind was blowing in,
raising clouds of fine silver sand. The sun had dropped below the horizon and a
quarter moon hung low in the sky, offering a lambent illumination to the
rolling waves far out to sea. He shivered as he walked across the sand. The
chill air had sent any holidaymakers back to their hotels and boarding houses,
the only reminder of their presence being the full litter baskets on the
promenade and a child’s solitary sandal half-buried in the sand. He kicked it
irritably as he passed, sending it arcing through the air to land behind a
grass-topped sand dune.

           
Further
along the beach a figure stepped out from behind the cover of a beach hut. ‘
Finlay
?’

           
‘Yes,
Martin. It’s me,’ Crawford said and stopped walking.

           
‘Are
you alone?’

           
‘What
does it look like?’ Crawford snapped, and then reigned in his temper. ‘Yes,
Martin. I’m alone. Is
Narina
with you?’

           
Another
figure stepped out from behind the hut. ‘I’m sorry,
Finlay
,’
Narina
Dressler
said. ‘I
know how much you planned for this.’

           
Seeing
her again made Crawford’s blood start to boil. She knew how important this was
to him, only to jeopardise it with her own selfishness. He clenched his fists
and held them at his side.
‘That doesn’t matter now,’ he
lied.
‘Have you got the girl?’

           
‘Father
says you’ve given your word that the Brotherhood will take no action. Is that
right?’

           
‘I
have spoken to the vast majority of them today. They are very disappointed with
you both, but I have told them no action is to be taken.’

           
‘Very well then.’

           
To
Finlay
Crawford’s surprise another figure stepped out
from behind the hut. Tall, muscular, and carrying the limp, unconscious body of
Meg Johnson, Jarvis, the Steins’ butler, strode through the sand towards him.
The two men met each other’s gaze – Crawford furious at this final betrayal,
Jarvis, assured, calm, and slightly amused.

           
‘And
what was
your
price?’ Crawford said sourly.

           
Jarvis
shrugged and lowered the unconscious girl down onto the sand at Crawford’s
feet. ‘I’ve known Martin since he was a baby, and God knows his father has
always been there to stifle any joy in the boy’s life. Let’s just say I’m
helping restore the balance a little. I think she’ll be good for him.’

           
Crawford
shook his head. ‘God save us all from blind optimism,’ he said to the man’s
departing back.

           
Jarvis
didn’t turn. When he reached the others they walked together across the beach,
until they were lost in the shadows of the dunes. A minute later a car started
and sped off into the night.

           
Crawford
crouched down and stroked the hair away from Meg’s brow.
Yes
, he
thought.
Very pretty
.

She
would do.

Martin Stein opened the door of the hotel
room and carried
Narina
Dressler
over the threshold, shutting the door behind them with a backward kick of his
heel. He laid her gently on the bed and kissed her. She responded by wrapping
her arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of her. They’d left Jarvis
in the bar, nursing a pint of bitter and a fat wallet. They’d paid him well for
today, but there was no doubting the man’s sincerity in his reluctance to
accept payment.

           
Narina’s
fingers deftly unbuttoned Martin’s shirt and
entwined themselves in his chest hair. He rolled away from her and lay staring
up at the ceiling whilst her fingernails scratched soft intricate patterns in
his skin. ‘What’s the matter?’ she whispered.

           
‘Can
he be trusted?’

           
‘
Finlay
?
Of course.
He’s bound to
be angry, but it’s not as if we left him high and dry. We gave him an
alternative. He will appreciate that.’ She rolled over and straddled him, her
hands reaching behind her to unzip her dress.

           
‘I
worry that we’ve underestimated him.’

           
She
got to her feet and let her dress drop to the floor, then pulled back the
covers and slid beneath the sheets, tugging at his hand in an effort to get him
to follow.

           
‘There’s
nothing to worry about. Come to bed.’

 
          
He turned and smiled at her. ‘You’re
right,’ he said, then sat up and took off his shirt.

Ralph Jarvis sank the last dregs of his
pint and said goodnight to the barman. He glanced up at the clock above the
bar. Only nine o’clock but it had been a long and stressful day and he felt
incredibly tired. He felt no guilt at having betrayed his employer’s trust.
He’d hated Clifford Stein for years, only remaining with the family, first out
of loyalty to Eleanor and then, after her death, to Martin. He loved the boy
like a son – and had circumstances been slightly different Martin may have been
just that. But that was all a long time ago, and he was too old for regrets.

           
Instead
he looked forward to a future. Martin Stein owned a house in the
Cannonbury
area of London.
Nothing too
grand, but he’d been assured of a position there, and he would be only too
happy to accept it.

           
He
took the stairs to his room on the first floor. At the top he looked along the
landing. He thought he’d seen something moving further along. Just a brief
fluid movement by the door of his room – a shadow perhaps, but then there was
nothing to cast a shadow. The landing was deserted. He walked along to the room
and turned the key in the lock. He opened the door and put his hand around the
frame, feeling on the wall for the light switch.