The Edge of Sanity (22 page)

Kayla blinked back her tears and stared at him, hard.

‘It doesn’t matter. Whatever you’ve done, it doesn’t matter. You’re my
daughter
, Kayla,’ Daniel went on, gently. ‘I love you. I would never knowingly do anything to hurt you.’

Kayla’s sobs stilled to a shudder. Her eyes strayed to the cut on his temple. ‘You’re hurt.’ She looked startled.

‘I think we all are, a bit. We’ll heal, Kayla.’ Daniel swallowed and prayed, and took another step towards his daughter.

‘You haven’t shaved.’ Kayla studied his face.

‘I’ll shave tomorrow,’ Daniel assured her, wishing he could make everything normal again.

Kayla nodded. ‘I can’t breathe properly, Dad,’ she said, moving suddenly towards him. ‘Everything’s … too close.’

Shit!
Daniel reached out, wrapped Kayla into his arms and buried his face in her hair. ‘It’s okay, baby.’ He almost cried with her. ‘It’s okay.’ He knew that feeling well. He’d lived it for the last suffocating six months, and for a lifetime, before he’d met Jo.

‘Concentrate, baby,’ he said softly. ‘Concentrate hard, with me, okay? Think wide-open space.’

‘I can’t, Dad. I—’

‘Yes, you can. Think of a field.’ Daniel held her tight. ‘Or a beach. A long, golden beach, nothing but blue sky above, open sea beyond, stretching right out as far as you can see. Nothing but space.’

‘Like when we went on holiday in France?’ Kayla pulled back to scan his eyes.

‘Yes, just like that.’ Daniel smiled.

‘Where we picked mussels and stuff fresh from the sand, and Mum told you to “cook the disgusting things yourself”?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘And Emma fell off the rock—’

Daniel stiffened, almost indiscernibly.

‘And you blamed me.’

Daniel hesitated, before answering. ‘Did I?’ He lifted Kayla’s chin. ‘I didn’t mean to.’

‘I
was
looking after her,’ Kayla said, a spark of belligerence in eyes still hazy, ‘but she was …’ Kayla trailed awkwardly off.

‘A pain sometimes,’ Daniel filled in, though it broke his heart.

Kayla nodded, obviously relieved. ‘Do you …’ she faltered, glancing back down. ‘Do you really love me? You know, after … everything.’

Daniel eased her chin back up. ‘I love you so much I feel when you hurt, baby. I hurt when you hurt. Believe that, Kayla. Always and whatever.’ He wiped away a tear from her cheek with his thumb and pulled his daughter back to him.

Charlie let out a discernible sigh of contempt. ‘Oh, man, put her down before you love her so much, you end up giving her one before I do.’

Kayla flinched and pulled back. Daniel didn’t let go. ‘It’s unconditional, Kayla,’ he assured her.

She thought it would make a difference, whatever that
bastard
had done to her. Daniel counted back hard in his head. Somehow he had to convince her. From the day he first saw her fragile form on Jo’s scan until the day he died, she would always be the same special person. Daniel
would
make her realise that, somehow.

Despite his mind conjuring up worst case scenarios, his heart harboured a tiny hope. The psycho had said
before I do.
Kayla’s scars would be deep, but if by some divine miracle that piece of scum hadn’t touched her, she’d heal a lot faster. All Daniel had to do was keep Charlie away from her for the next two days.

****

‘Tall, slim and dark.’ DI Short described the girl from the nightclub to the headmistress. ‘With hair about …’ he sawed halfway up his forearm ‘ … so long?’ He looked at her hopefully, then sat back wearily as she gave him a despairing shake of the head.

‘Detective Short, you’ve just described half of the upper fourth, fifth and sixth.’ The headmistress pointed out patiently. ‘They’re
all
tall and slim nowadays, haven’t you noticed?’

She was right. DI Short sighed heavily. He’d just given a vague description of his own daughter.

The headmistress closed her registers, checked her watch and stood abruptly. ‘I’m sorry, Detective Inspector, I really do need to get on.’ She smiled tightly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me?’

‘Yes, of course.’ DI Short smiled broadly in return. He shuffled his chair back, and then cocked an ear as a distant bell rang. ‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls …’ he said, with a not-quite nostalgic smile. ‘Morning assembly, is it?’

‘That’s right. And I’m running a bit late.’ The headmistress skirted around him as he stood. ‘I’m sure you can find your own way out.’ She headed purposefully for the door.

‘Of course.’ DI Short stayed where he was. ‘Just one more thing, though.’

‘Yes, Detective Inspector?’ The headmistress turned back, now discernibly irritated.

‘I wonder,’ DI Short paused and smiled his best winning smile, ‘would it be possible for me to address the upper fourth, fifth and sixth? The cloned half as well as the other half,’ he added a touch facetiously, ‘whilst they’re all conveniently gathered?’

‘Detective Short.’ The headmistress sighed, pseudo-patiently. ‘Do you honestly think that one of those girls is going to admit to being in a nightclub?’ She smiled indulgently, which DI Short found more intimidating than her granite expression of a moment before.

‘Honestly? No, not really.’ DI Short smiled flatly back and marched across to do the gentlemanly thing and open the door for her. ‘But, you never know, we might get lucky. In which case, someone might not get shot!’ he informed her, stony-faced. ‘After you, headmistress.’

Silly old bag, he thought as he pulled the door closed behind him. ‘Oh, and I’d like a list of all the girls, from the upper fourth, fifth and sixth on holiday and sick, as of today, please.’ He smiled charmingly as she glanced at him po-faced. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

****

‘You doin’ this deliberately?’ Charlie scowled from where he stood on the steps, as Daniel laboriously went through the checks on the engine.

‘Routine, but necessary,’ Daniel said, ‘assuming you want to go anywhere.’

Which Charlie certainly did. Seemed the best option, given the boatyard was open house to the public. The milkman and the sodding postman seemed to be working the twilight shift.

Postman was a faggot if ever Charlie saw one. Walked with a wiggle, he’d swear. And gave Daniel a sweet little smile and a wave.

Very interesting.

‘What you doin’ now?’ Charlie snapped, tossing a spliff end into the water as Daniel stuffed a hose in the front end and attached another to the back of the boat.

‘Water,’ Daniel explained, ‘and pump out.’

‘Well, hurry it up!’

I’m trying, Daniel thought, heading for the diesel which also needed topping up, moving deliberately slowly, as Charlie had surmised, but more out of physical necessity than a wish to wind him up.

The psycho was like a cat on hot bricks, trigger finger twitching if even a duck got too close. God knew what he might do if customers started turning up, which they always did, even with the closed sign swinging on the gate.

Maybe he should top the water tank up with cyanide? Watch the bastard squirm and die … except they’d got to share the water, of course. And the space. Two days? Would he cope? Entombed in a narrow boat for two days and nights with that unpredictable piece of scum?

Had to.

No choice.

Jo and he might not have a future together, but at least this way, Daniel was on his own territory, which might just give him an edge so he could make damn sure Jo and Kayla
had
a future.

‘Move it, Danny Boy,’ Charlie muttered, chewing on a thumbnail.

He passed Steve behind him the gun, then emerged fully on deck, cracking his head on the half-open hatch as he did so.

‘Bastard!’ Charlie cursed, and rammed the hatch forcefully back.

‘
You
are getting on my nerves,’ he growled at Daniel. ‘Stop messing about and start the thing up.’

He stepped from the boat to the bank to remind Daniel who was boss.

Daniel stumbled forwards, with the assistance of a shove in the right direction.

Back turned, he counted down, to quell the urge to shove his fist down the psycho’s throat; it was almost overwhelming. The need to stay upright was more overwhelming, though, and he doubted he would, if another blow from the butt of the gun found its target. And no way did Daniel want to remind Charlie of his weak spot.

‘Now!’ Charlie barked behind him. ‘You have two minutes, and then you ring the bank.’

Christ.
Daniel stopped, and turned slowly around.

Charlie scowled. ‘You’re not moving, Danny.’

Daniel dragged a hand over his neck. ‘I’ll ring them,’ he said, ‘but I’m not sure the funds are available yet.’

‘You’re trying my patience, Danny,’ Charlie warned him meaningfully.

Daniel sucked in a breath. ‘They’re not due in until today. I’m not sure what time.’

Charlie eyed him narrowly. He didn’t speak, which if anything, was more intimidating than foul-mouthed threats backed up with body blows.

‘These things take time,’ Daniel tried, playing for time. He knew the amount Charlie was expecting to be there wouldn’t be, and he was not sure what the bank’s protocol on phone instructions might be, so he had no choice but to. ‘The legal paperwork has to be—’

‘Bullshit,’ Charlie said, eyeing him steadily now.

Daniel closed his eyes. He had to say something, he realised. To at least introduce the idea that the transaction might not be as straightforward as this madman thought it would be. ‘It’s not bullshit. You have to listen to me. I’ll make the call, but … It’s not ninety thousand, Charlie.’ He used his name, though it stuck in his throat. ‘There’s almost half that, but not—’

‘You know, Danny, you really are very fucking irritating,’ Charlie growled. ‘I
know
how much you sold the boatyard for. You daughter told me. Now, either she’s lying, or you’re lying. Which is it?’

‘Neither. I—’

‘
Her
?’ Charlie nodded pointedly back to the boat.

‘No!’ Daniel said quickly, getting “the drift”. The goading look in Charlie’s eye conveyed his meaning implicitly.

Charlie cocked his head to one side. ‘You losing it, Danny Boy?’

‘What?’ Daniel tried to keep up.

‘Because I think you might need something to sharpen your memory, before someone gets hurt. Some chemical stimulation, maybe? Wha’d’y’think, Danny, hmm?’

****

Jo took advantage of Charlie’s preoccupation with the preparation of the boat to coax Kayla to the bathroom.

‘Come on, gently does it,’ Jo said, helping Kayla struggle awkwardly into her tee shirt, the confined space allowing them little elbow room. She tugged Kayla’s wet hair from the neck of the shirt, and then wiped tears from her daughter’s eyes, which wouldn’t meet her own.

‘It’s okay, darling.’ Jo tried to ease Kayla’s chin up, but still her daughter refused to look at her. ‘We’re going to get through this, I promise.’

‘He’s going to kill us,’ Kayla mumbled, her gaze still fixed floorwards.

‘No, he is not!’ Jo grabbed her shoulders, wishing Kayla would look at her. ‘We’ll give him what he wants and he’ll –’

‘Your money?’ Kayla cut in. ‘Then what?’ She met Jo’s gaze, at last. ‘How are you
going to get through
the rest of your lives, Mum? You don’t even have each other.’

Jo glanced down now.

Because it was true, Kayla knew.

And what had
she
done while her mum and dad were busy falling apart? Acted like a spoilt brat, that’s what. Made their lives even more miserable because she wasn’t getting enough attention. Got it now though, hadn’t she? Centre of it. Wasn’t that what she’d wanted?

Jo sighed. ‘The money’s not important Kayla—’

‘Bull! Of course it’s important! It’s all you’ve worked for. Everything. And now … It’s all my fault,’ Kayla said, shakily. ‘All of it.’

‘Kayla, hush, honey. It’s not.’ Jo reached out to pull Kayla towards her.

But Kayla pulled away. ‘
My
fault, Mum, not Dad’s,’ she went on, raking her hair from her face. ‘It was me who couldn’t be arsed to look after Emma. That’s why Dad had to take her with him. He had a callout. One of the boats broke down. He had to go.’

‘What?’ Jo shook her head, bewildered. ‘Kayla, look … There’s no point to this—’

‘Mum, listen to me,
please,
’ Kayla implored her, knowing she had to say it while she had the courage, and Jo’s undivided attention. Though she wished she’d gotten it any other way than this. Wished she’d tried to talk to her mum before now, instead of cocooning herself in self-pity.

Jo nodded, her face deathly pale, Kayla noticed, and almost faltered.

But she couldn’t back out now. It wasn’t fair on her dad. She so wanted him to stand proud again, for her mum and dad to be friends again, if nothing else.

‘I told her to drop dead,’ she blurted, steeling her resolve. ‘She kept whinging on about coming with Hannah and me and I told her to … It was the last thing I said to her, Mum.’ Kayla choked back a sob. ‘And then …’

Jo stared at her, stunned.

‘You blamed Dad. And it was my fault,’ Kayla went on, knowing now her mum must surely hate her. ‘And
now
look what’s happened.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum. Really, I am. I …’ Kayla looked past Jo’s stricken face to the door, her chest feeling all tight and funny, like it did before. ‘I have to get out,’ she said panicky, pushing past Jo. ‘I can’t breathe.’

‘Kayla, stop!’ Jo reached out and pulled Kayla forcibly towards her. ‘Stop, Kayla,’ she said, her gaze fixed hard on hers. ‘It was
no-one’s
fault, do you hear?’

Kayla searched Jo’s eyes, and found confusion there, strength and compassion, but no blame.

‘It was a figure of speech, nothing more. I know that,’ Jo went on, her grasp relaxing into a hold.

‘We all blame ourselves, Kayla. It’s natural when you lose someone, to search for reasons why. To think of all the things you could have done. Things you should have said.’

‘And shouldn’t,’ Kayla added soberly.

‘Yes,’ Jo conceded. ‘But that’s part of being human, honey. We all say things we don’t mean. And none of us can see into the future. All we can do is try to live …’ Jo hesitated for a split second ‘ … and learn. Don’t tear yourself apart anymore, Kayla. Put it behind you. Okay?’