The Beachcomber (52 page)

Mortified, the sobs racking his body, Tom drew him close to his chest, then, tenderly, he raised his fingers and closed his brother’s eyes. But he couldn’t shake off the devastating impact of Dougie’s confession. He couldn’t let him go. Not yet.

Not until the hatred had subsided.

Gently, the inspector pried him away. “It’s over, Tom,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

“G
OOD
G
OD, MAN!”
Inspector Lawson could see how the events of the past twenty-four hours had taken their toll on Tom. “You look
terrible!
”

Tom nodded wearily. “I’m sure I do,” he acknowledged. “I can’t seem to sleep. I still haven’t come to terms with what Dougie did.”

“Sit yourself down. I’ll get you some tea.” Waiting until Tom was seated, he added kindly, “It’s no use you punishing yourself over what happened. You’re not the Lord Almighty. You couldn’t have foreseen, or prevented the outcome.”

Tom knew that. He also knew that, however long he lived, he would never forget Dougie’s confession. Every word was engraved on his mind.

“Have you had any breakfast?” The older man’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“No.”

“I’ve got a couple of bacon sarnies. You’re welcome to one of ’em.”

Tom thanked him. “I wouldn’t say no.”

He heard the inspector go out, and he heard him come back, and it seemed to Tom as though only a minute had passed, so deep in thought was he.

“Here!” Handing Tom a paper bag containing the bacon sarnie, he explained, “The wife always gives me more than I need.”

Tom gave a half smile. “You’re a liar.”

The older man chuckled. “Maybe, but you look as if you need it more than I do. So get it down you. We’ll talk while we munch.”

He pointed to the mug of tea he’d placed in front of Tom. “That’s good strong stuff,” he said, adding thoughtfully, “I reckon you’ll need it.”

Tom was already anxious. “You’ve got Dougie’s things, then?”

“Yup. Got ’em yesterday. There’s not much in all … papers and business schedules, that sort of thing. More to do with work than anything else.” He paused. “Eat up!”

Tom had seen how agitated he was, and he needed to know. “You’ve found something else, haven’t you?”

The inspector nodded. “Did you know your brother kept a diary?”

Tom shook his head. “I’m beginning to think I didn’t know anything about him at all. More’s the pity.”

Whatever it was the inspector had found in Dougie’s home, Tom knew it must be incriminating or he wouldn’t have called him in. “This diary. Does it throw any light on what happened?”

“It tells us all we need to know.”

Tom was curious. “Can I see it?”

“Not yet. It’s still being tested in the lab. But I can tell you the guts of it.”

Tom waited, but he was not prepared for what the older man was about to reveal. “Your brother was jealous of everything you did … everything you had. Your wife, your kids, even the job you taught him.” He paused, before going on in softer tones, “He envied you, Tom … resented the very ground you walked on.”

He momentarily glanced away, then, raising his gaze, he looked Tom straight in the eye. “Look, Tom, I don’t take any pleasure in telling you these things. But, at some point or another, the contents of that diary will be made known. It’s better you know now exactly what was in it.”

Coolly returning his gaze, Tom kept control of his emotions. “I understand that, and I appreciate you giving me forewarning. I can’t pretend I’m not deeply hurt by what he thought of me, because I am. I had no idea. Can you believe that? He wanted me out of the way … was prepared to kill my entire family. For
what?
”

He shook his head slowly and thoughtfully from side to side, as if making himself believe it. “I spent most of last night thinking about it, and the harder I thought, the more I understood – and the
less
I understood at the same time.”

“That’s a strange way of putting it, Tom.”

“No, not really.” Leaning forward, he wiped both his hands over his face, gave a long, drawn-out sigh, took a swig of his tea and was quiet for a minute. “I can take him being jealous of me,” he murmured presently. “I can take the hating … I even understand it a little. Older brother, first born, first to walk, first to school … to have a sweetheart, a wife and family. Setting standards … showing him the ropes at work; always one step ahead.”

He gave a thoughtful nod. “I can see how Dougie might have resented that.” He could see it, but not really accept it. “He was my brother. I did everything I could for him. But now I know … it was never enough.”

“Did you not suspect anything, about the affair with your wife?”

“No. Nothing.” Tom needed to know. “Did the diary confirm what he said … those last few words?” He had only one thing in mind, and it was more painful than anything he had ever before encountered in his life.

“I’m sorry, Tom. The answer is yes.” The inspector had been dreading this moment. “He and your wife had an affair for six years. They planned to go away, but then she changed her mind and finished it. He couldn’t take that.”

Tom was distraught. “How could I not know? Six years she and Dougie were seeing each other, and I had no idea!” He was angry, angry with them, angry with himself. “How in God’s name could I not know?”

He looked up at the older man. The question burned in the air between them. He wanted to ask … was desperate to know, yet didn’t want to know.

The inspector read his mind. “Why don’t we leave it now, Tom?” he suggested kindly. “Put it behind you. Get on with your life.”

Tom wanted to, but he had to know. Otherwise how could he ever go forward. “Was it true,” he asked, “what he said about my son?”

There was a moment when the inspector thought he might lie to save Tom a great deal of heartache, but somewhere down the line the truth would out and he would be the villain. “I’m sorry, Tom.”

A loud, broken sob caught in Tom’s throat. He stared down at the floor, the air thick with silence.
The boy he had adored was not his!
He was Dougie’s son.
DOUGIE’S SON!
The cruel words echoed over and over in his mind. But then an even more terrible thought struck him. “Dougie was prepared to sacrifice his own son to destroy me.”

Now, when he looked up, his eyes were blinded by tears. He didn’t say anything more. It was too late.
All too late!

He got out of the chair and, turning away, walked slowly across the room. At the door he paused, but he didn’t look back. Instead he slowly turned the door-handle and, leaving the door ajar, went away, down the corridor and out of the building.

The chill struck his face as he walked out into the daylight. Reality!

Thrusting his hands into his coat-pockets, he walked along the street like a man in a trance, the stark truth leaping in and out of his mind like the stab of a dagger. “Not my son. Dougie’s son.”

Some time later, never really sure how he got there, he found himself standing in the churchyard looking down at her gravestone. In his mind he could see her as if it was yesterday. “How could you do that to me … to
us?
”

Anger had crumbled to sadness. “It won’t change the way I loved him, nor will I ever forget the great times we had together. He’s still my son, whatever you and Dougie did.
Peter … is … still … my son!
”

The words were issued through gritted teeth, deliberately spaced, quiet but forceful. Nothing and no one could change the way he felt, or wipe out what he and his son had together.

The following morning he paid his bill, called the inspector to tell him where he could be found, and left the hotel. He had done what he came to do, and now it was time to leave. It had been too long a journey. Too lonely.

Every day, every minute, Kathy had been on his mind and in his heart. Yet he had kept a clear head and worked his way through, and now, thank God, it was over.

Though he felt he didn’t deserve it, he had a wonderful woman, and a life waiting.

Behind the counter at the site office, Kathy confessed to Rosie how desperate she was to phone Tom, and how she had promised herself that she wouldn’t. “Even if I did call him, I wouldn’t tell him about Samantha.” She was still adamant on that score. “Only I would like to know how things are going with him.”

“Why don’t ye ring him then?” Rosie urged. She knew how, several times, Kathy had been on the verge of calling Tom. “Ah, sure, ye know where he is. He’s called you umpteen times, so you know he wants to talk.” Leaning one elbow on the desk, she gave Kathy a nudge. “Aw, look, me darlin.’ He must be just as anxious to talk with you, or why would he call?”

Just then a weathered young man came in. “Do you have any caravans? Only I’ve been walking the hills hereabouts and I’m looking for a base for the winter.”

Rosie was sympathetic, but replied, “I’m sorry, luv. Sure, I’d give ye a key straight off, so I would. Only we don’t let caravans through the winter. Matter o’ fact, we’re just now closing down. But there are any number of guest-houses in the area.”

Reaching under the counter, she brought out a directory. “Look through that if ye like. I’m sure you’ll find something to suit.”

With a snarl, he threw it back at her. “Don’t talk bloody stupid, woman! I wouldn’t be asking for a caravan if I’d got money for ‘guest-houses.’ Much use
you
are! It’ll be another night on the hills, I expect. Thanks for nothing!”

With that he stormed out, with Rosie calling after him: “Good riddance to ye then, ye bad-mannered bugger. I hope yer arse freezes over, so I do!”

With everything she had on her mind, Kathy couldn’t help but chuckle. “One of these days that bad temper of yours will get you in trouble,” she said.

Rosie laughed out loud. “Ah, sure, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been in trouble. It’s what keeps me going, so it is.”

She got back to the matter in hand. “Are ye going to call that man of yours, or what? Especially since he’s been calling here, anxious to find out if you’re all right.”

Kathy nodded. “I
will
call him. Besides, I need to hear his voice. I need to know he’s okay.”

Now that Samantha had been taken home, she wanted Tom close, but she continued, “I know how hard it was for him to go back there, Rosie, and how long it’s taken him to face up to it all. The last thing I want is to send him off track. You know as well as I do, if he thought I needed him, he’d be back here like a shot, and then where would he be?”

Rosie had seen first hand how Samantha’s death had upset her, and how broken she was about her mother’s blaming her for it. “Aw, look now, Kathy. I’m so sorry about your sister, and I’d give my right arm if I thought it would bring your mammy to her senses, but it won’t. Sure, I can see that now. I know it’s not been easy, and I know you’ve taken it real bad. But you’ve come through it with a strong heart, so ye have.”

Many was the time since Samantha’s death that she had taken Kathy in her arms and talked the tears away.

She took her in her arms again now. “Aw, Kathy, me darlin,’ I’m proud of ye, so I am!”

Kathy smiled up at her. Rosie had a way of making her smile, even when her heart was heavy. “I don’t know what I would have done without you and Jasper,” she said. “You’ve been wonderful.”