Strangers (44 page)

“You use the press when it suits you,” he said.

“I’ve never spoken to the press.”

“So how did they get the photo of that scratch on your back?”

Kate felt the flush sweeping across her cheeks like a crimson badge.
“Fax took it.
I wanted him to ask Lucy out, so I let him take the picture.”

“See?
You use the press when it suits you.”

“But I’ve never spoken to the press about you.” She needed to sit.

“You’re a liar,” he yelled, spitting the words out like bullets.
“Liar.
Liar.
Liar.”

Kate flinched at every one.
“I’ve never lied to you.”

“Bollocks.
You lied about your father being dead, about why you didn’t like having your photo taken.
You probably lied about Dickhead, too.
No wonder he didn’t want to marry you.
He had a fucking lucky escape.”

Kate shrank under the onslaught, but wouldn’t run.

“Charlie, we have something here.
Please don’t do this.”

He laughed.
“We have nothing.
We started this when neither of us were in our right minds.
All that time I thought you were the first real thing I’d come across, only you’re a fake like all the rest.
Worse than the rest.” He glared at her.
“You lied to me and you lied to yourself.
You lied about your father killing your mother.
You stabbed her.
You fucking killed her.” His voice was icy with contempt.

“Charlie,” she pleaded.

“Fuck off, Kate.
Run away again, just like you always do.”

Kate recoiled, but she couldn’t let this go.

“I have no reason to hurt you, Charlie.
Why would I do this?”

“Because I made you see the truth.
Because I brought your father here.
You let him sit in jail.
You never visited him.
Even when he was out of prison, you wouldn’t see him.
But you took his fucking money, didn’t you?
He was good enough for that.
You could have talked to me, but instead, you ran.
Fucked off to Brighton.
You didn’t even try and get in touch.
I was out of my mind.
I thought you were dead.”

“I haven’t been to Brighton.” Kate had no idea what he was talking about.

He gave a short laugh.
“Still lying?
I employed private detectives because I was so worried.
I was going to let you think things over, then come and get you.
Instead you got me.
Congratulations.
Enjoy the money.”

Kate shook her head.
“Charlie, why would I come here to talk to you if I was the one who gave that information to the press?
What would be the point?
Help me find out who did speak to them.
I swear it wasn’t me.”

“If it wasn’t you, then who did you tell?”

She couldn’t tell him.
She took a step toward him and he backed off.

“Don’t touch me.
I don’t want you anywhere near me.
You’re poisonous.
Just fuck off.
I never want to see you again.
I never want to hear your name again.
You’re dead.
Do me a favor.
Go finish what you started in the sea.”

Nothing could have hurt her more.

A door slammed.
“Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Kate and Charlie turned to see Jody Morton standing in the doorway.
She wore the white robe Kate had worn, loosely fastened around her hips.
Jody padded barefoot to Charlie’s side and put her hand on his arm.

“The tub’s full,” she purred in his ear.
“Come and wash my back.”

Kate took a deep breath.
It felt like the last she’d ever take.

“Do you still have my purse?” she asked in a small voice.

Charlie stalked to the cupboard that held his DVDs, grabbed the black leather bag, turned and threw it toward Kate.
It smacked her straight in the face and dropped to the floor.

Kate picked it up and clutched it to her chest, her cheek stinging.
“Thank you.”

Walking out, knowing he hated her, was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do.
She walked straight through the photographers and carried on walking all the way back to Greenwich.
It took her four and a half hours.
And every step hurt.
Every step destroyed a part of her.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Kate opened the door of her apartment and the fetid smell of spoiled food hit her like a noxious tidal wave.
She opened all the windows and emptied the fridge.
When she took the rubbish down to the bin room, she found Dan in there cutting up cardboard.

“Hey, I’ve not seen you for ages.
You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Kate lied and a jolt of pain flashed through her.

“What happened to your face?”

The bag had left a long red scratch from her eye to her chin.
She knew Charlie hadn’t meant to hurt her but the fact that he had, hurt worse than the blow.

“A branch caught me.”

“Looks nasty.
By the way, Mel’s been trying to get in touch with you.”

Kate had almost forgotten she had a job.

“I’ll ring her.”

“I’ve finished that picture of Charlie and his brother,” Dan said.
“Do you want to come and get it?”

He held the bin open for Kate’s black bag.
She wondered if Dan had seen the article in the paper.

“So where’ve you been?” Dan asked, as they walked back upstairs.

“Away for a few days.”

“With Charlie?”

“No.
That’s over.” Kate’s heart was being squeezed so hard she thought she might curl up and die.
How could she have thought she stood a chance with a guy like Charlie?
If he’d seen her in a bar or in the street, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice.

“Ah, the thing in the paper.”

“So you
did
read it?
He thought I was the source.
I wasn’t.” Her voice broke.

“Come here.” Dan opened his arms.

Kate let him hug her but when she crumbled, she pulled away.

“It’ll be okay, you’ll see,” Dan said.

Kate nodded.

“Do you still want the picture?”

She nodded again, unable to speak.

When Dan walked into the hall holding up his portrait of Charlie and Michael, Kate sighed.
It was fabulous.
Dan had captured Charlie’s smile.
An open, artless beam.
His tousled hair stuck out at one side.
His eyes shone like a baby seal’s, huge and trusting.
They’d never look at her like that again.

“Don’t you like it?” Dan’s voice faltered.

Kate wet her dry lips with her tongue.
“Sorry.
Just mesmerized.
It’s brilliant.
I’m amazed.” Amazed she could speak without squeaking.
“You have to let me pay you, Dan.”

“No, I told you.
It’s a gift.”

He placed it in Kate’s arms.

Kate got back inside her apartment, closed the door and collapsed, sliding down as her legs gave way.
She leaned the painting against the wall and stared at it, her eyes filling with tears.
The images of Charlie and Michael lost all focus and shape.
Colors merged until there was no form, no Charlie.
He wasn’t hers.
Her heart felt like it was being wrenched apart in her chest, torn to shreds.

Kate thought about the last time she’d sat there crying, when she’d returned from the registry office.
She’d hurt then, but nothing compared to this.
Kate curled into a ball and buried her face in her arms.
The knowledge that Charlie hurt too made it worse.
If there was one thing Kate aimed for in life, it was never to knowingly hurt another person, because she knew what it felt like.
She should have stayed alone.
None of this would have happened.
She’d thought she could change her life and she’d been wrong.

What could she do now?
Run?
Her usual course of action.
But this time, not within London.
Another town or city.
Start again.
Hide.
Because if she had to see her father, it would destroy her.
He wanted her to believe her mother had been sick, but Kate wasn’t sure that was true.
It was her father who was the obsessive one—no noise, no TV, just painting, watching her paint, shouting at her when it wasn’t right.
He wanted nothing to be his fault.
No money, but it wasn’t his fault.
Her mum upset, not his fault.
Snatches of memories confused her.
Had she really stabbed her mum?

She’d never know the truth so no good beating herself up about it.
But Kate never wanted to see her father again.
She’d sell the apartment.
Give back the money.
Maybe she could get a passport and go abroad, work in a bar.
Thoughts flashed through her head on a loop.
Last time, suicide seemed the only answer.
Now, it was no answer at all.

Kate shrank a little, remembering what Charlie had said.
Finish what she started.
Kill herself.
But he’d missed the point.
Missed the reason why she walked into the sea the first time.
She’d told him, but he hadn’t heard.
It wasn’t because Richard dumped her, but because she’d let herself down.
That wasn’t the case now.
She’d done nothing wrong.
She hadn’t hurt Charlie.

Even if she managed to prove she hadn’t spoken to the papers, Kate knew she’d lost him.
No way back.
He was already in the arms of another woman.
Kate couldn’t compete with a star like Jody Morton.
Everyone said it wouldn’t last between Kate and Charlie and they’d been right.
Her fingers slid to her neck and touched the star he’d bought.
She rubbed it as though it was capable of performing magic, and then wrenched it off.
She tried to throw it away but her hand didn’t let it go.
The chain was looped around her fingers and Kate wondered if that was a sign she shouldn’t give up.
One of Charlie’s signs.
She sighed.

When she walked into her bedroom and saw the wall covered in messages of love, Kate froze.
How long had Charlie spent doing that?
She’d hidden away in the refuge trying to sort her head out and not thought enough about Charlie’s head.
As she peeled each one away, and read what he’d put—
I love you. Come back. I need you—
she thought of what she’d lost and how much Charlie hated her and how much worse it was to be hated than not to be loved.
She’d brought this on herself.
When she’d run, she’d hurt him, made it easier for him to believe the worst.
He’d loved her and she’d let him down.

* * * * *

Kate coaxed her car all the way to Charlie’s parents’, petrified it might conk out and strand her in the middle of nowhere.
She hadn’t been able to call them.
They were ex-directory, so she hoped they were in.
If not, she’d sleep in the car and try the next day.

Charlie’s mother opened the door.
Kate watched her eyes narrow.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry to come unannounced, Mrs.
Storm.”

“What do you want?”

“I wondered if I could have a word with your husband.”

“Trying to get more dirt on Charlie?
Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?”

“It wasn’t me who talked to the papers.”

“Who else knew all that about him?”

“I would never hurt Charlie,” Kate said.

“Too late.
He’s already hurt.
We’re hurt too.
The paper’s full of our private business.
Do you think that’s what we needed?
You’ve made your money, now leave us alone.”

“Can I speak to Mr.
Storm, please?” Kate asked again.

“He’s not here.”

She took a piece of paper from her bag with her mobile number written down.
“Could you ask him to phone me?
It’s important.”

Kate handed over the paper.
Jill screwed it up and dropped it.
The door slammed in Kate’s face.
She swallowed hard, picked up the ball of paper and put it in her pocket.
Back at the car, Kate lifted the painting from the boot.
She left it propped under the portico by the front door and drove back to London.

By the time she reached Greenwich, it was too late to go to an estate agent.
It would have to wait until the next day.
She ought to eat.
Kate couldn’t remember the last time she’d had food.
She cut green mold off the sides of two slices of bread before she toasted and buttered them, then left them untouched.

Slumping on the couch, Kate’s hands reached again for the creased Sunday newspaper, rereading it, looking for a clue, desperate to find something she’d missed that might tell her who’d done this.
She wondered if the police had been to see Charlie about India, Michael and the drugs.
It could mean the end of his career.

Kate rang Ethan on impulse, twisting his business card in her fingers.

“It’s Kate Snow.”

“What do you want?”

She winced at the sound of another arctic voice, though she wasn’t surprised.

“Ethan, I didn’t speak to the papers about Charlie.
I wondered if you knew who had?”

“Have you any idea of the damage you’ve caused, you stupid bitch?
Stay out of his life.
Don’t ring me again.”

He cut the connection.

As Kate stared at the headline in the paper, she wondered if the answer was right in front of her.
She could ask the guys who’d written the article for the name of their source.
Maybe if she explained, they’d tell her.
The
24/7
switchboard
put her through to Simon Baxter’s voice mail system.
Kate didn’t want to leave a message, she wanted to speak to Simon.
So she made another, more difficult call.

“Hello, Richard.
It’s Kate.”

“Kate who?”

Kate bit her tongue.
“Kate Snow.”

“What do you want?”

She kept her tone even.
“Simon’s telephone number.”

There was a short silence.

“Why?”

“Because you owe me a favor.”

She waited while he thought about it.

“I’ll ring him and ask him to call you.”

She started to thank him and the phone went dead.

That was it.
Kate couldn’t think what else to do.
When the phone rang a few minutes later, she snatched it up, but it was Rachel, asking if she wanted to go for something to eat with her and Dan.
Kate told her she’d already eaten.

She curled up on the floor next to the jigsaw and kept the phone under her hand.

* * * * *

Charlie wanted to be on his own.
It was his fucking house and he wanted everyone to leave.
Then, after Jake had gone and Ethan had taken Jody back to her hotel, he wanted them to come back.
He didn’t want to think and it was easier to keep his mind blank with other people around.