Never Tell (11 page)

There wasn’t anything else to say really. I saw her in town a few weeks later with another boy; she was wearing my scarf. I decided she could keep it.

Chapter Five
GLOUCESTERSHIRE, MARCH 2008

The morning after the Kattans’ party, the taxi dropped me at the gates in the overgrown lane. I had a feeling of foreboding that I tried to dispel, but my stomach was churning slightly even before I began the long walk up the drive.

Last night it had been my turn to lie awake, sleepless beside a snoring James, recalling events I had blocked for years. And as I stared into the darkness, craving sleep and peace, I couldn’t understand why all these events were conspiring to meet now. But whatever the reason, the past seemed to be travelling inexorably towards me – and there was nowhere to hide. All night I’d pondered the portrait in the bedroom, until finally I’d decided that James was right: that I’d been mistaken: that one sloe-eyed beauty might look rather like another. But still I couldn’t quite push Huriyyah’s face from my mind.

The gravel crunched satisfyingly underfoot as I set off, my hand clasped round the car keys in my fleece pocket. In the past few weeks the earth had yawned mightily and begun to waken, and I was flanked now by creamy yellow daffodils that flickered lightly in the breeze, the great glossy camellias behind them festooned with buds as big as my fist. The temperature at night was still close to freezing, but this morning had dawned fresh and bright – a mismatch for my sense of apprehension. I intended to fetch the car and leave the property as quickly as I could.

My phone rang. Xavier.

‘Where are you?’

‘Fetching my car from Hadi Kattan’s house in Gloucestershire.’

‘You got in there then? Good girl.’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And now I’m getting out.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s not for me, Xav.’

‘Don’t be a pussy, Rose.’

‘I’m not. Like I said, I’m flattered, and I think you should follow it up – but you need to get someone else to do it.’

‘But you’re in already. I’ve got more juicy stuff coming through; rumours that Kattan may have financed a trainingcamp from his home in Tehran. Plus he’s been the subject of a CIA investigation.’

‘Really?’ I thought of the man last night at the party, of the helicopter, of the hysterical and now apparently missing daughter.

Detecting my hesitation, Xav pounced. ‘Come on, Rose.’

‘I’ve already been warned off by his laconic idiot of a driver.’

‘A nice bit of rough? Right up your street.’

‘Up yours, you mean.’

‘Darling! All those coarse farmers are having a terrible effect on you.’

I thought of Hadi Kattan’s firm handshake and the way he held back from the rest of the crowd; the assurance in his stance. ‘Kattan’s much more my type.’ For all his inherent sexism, no man had smiled at me like that for years.

‘You’re a happily married woman, let me remind you, Rosie.’

A sudden breeze sent a flurry of blossom skittering before my

feet.

‘Not sure about the happily bit right now,’ I muttered.

‘At last she’s seen the light,’ Xavier drawled. He’d never bothered to hide his feelings about James.

The blossom whirled in circles on the ground before me.

‘Anyway, Kattan’s certainly a character. Very old-school polite, but a will of iron, I’m sure. And his son, Ash, is apparently disenchanted with Britain, and running for Parliament.’ I was rounding the last bend in the drive now, heading towards a stable block and garages on my right, walking into shadow beneath great elms that blocked the sun from my path. The gargoyles on the roof were still screaming silently as I neared. I had the unnerving feeling that I was being watched and I felt a shiver of apprehension. ‘But I’m sorry, I just can’t do it, Xav.’

‘Fuck, Rose,’ Xav swore softly. ‘It’s not like you to wimp out.’

The great windows of the Gothic manor frowned down like huge unblinking eyes, and then something stopped me in my tracks. I wasn’t sure exactly what I’d seen but it was like a flash of light, something white billowing in the window to the left of the great front door. Somewhere nearby the clank of metal on metal startled me. My own involuntary gasp made me laugh.

‘Rose?’

‘I’ll call you back.’ I hung up.

‘Hello?’ I called. Someone had been listening, I was sure.

Silence fell again; just the fluting of birdsong, and then the distant bleat of tiny lambs. It was an eerie sound; rather like my children crying. I took a few small steps towards an old cream-coloured racing car abandoned on blocks. Alongside the garage wall were stacked great canisters; presumably for petrol.

‘Hello?’ I steadied my voice. ‘Anyone there?’

There was no response. A sudden gust blew through the branches like a great breath as I took another step and then the light from the window struck me again, flashing across my face so I had to shut my eyes. Not a light I realised, some kind of red laser. It swept the ground before me and then disappeared.

I contemplated turning back – and then I heard the metallic sound again.

‘Hello?’ I repeated, awash with adrenalin – and then Danny Callendar emerged from the garage, rolling a cigarette.

‘You really made me jump.’ I tried to stifle my nerves. Wood smoke hung in the air like a distant warning. Like an exhaled sigh.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said easily, and licked the cigarette paper. ‘Can I help?’

I smiled politely. ‘I’ve just come to collect my car.’

‘Fair enough.’ Callendar looked down to light his roll-up, then up again as he inhaled. ‘It’s still up at the house.’

He was so abrupt, it seemed peculiar after last night. So abrupt he was rude. I regarded him for a second. His eyes were uncomfortably blue, piercing even; his skin looked like it had suffered too many summers under hot sun. It was hard to place his age; somewhere in his mid-thirties, I’d guess; a year or two younger than me, perhaps.

‘What exactly is it that you do here?’ A sudden gust whipped my key-ring hard against my wrist. ‘Ow.’ I dropped the keys.

He bent down to retrieve them, handing the ring to me. ‘Who wants to know?’ His skin was hard and calloused, oil beneath his nails.

‘Me, obviously.’
What a stupid thing to say
. ‘I just wondered.’

‘I drive for Mr Kattan.’ He took another drag, eyes squinting against sun and smoke. He had nice hands, I thought absently. Long elegant fingers, despite the filthy nails. ‘Amongst other things.’

‘What kind of other things?’

‘This and that, Mrs Miller, this and that.’ He leaned against the old car.

‘And is Mr Kattan here?’

‘Dunno.’

‘I see.’ I tried another smile. ‘Does he have many visitors?’ Danny Callendar laughed – but he was laughing
at
me, that was clear. ‘What’s it to you, honey?’

‘I’m meant to be writing a piece on him for the local paper. Just interested. Professionally, you know.’

‘Well, professionally,’ he removed a bit of tobacco from his tongue, ‘he has a few.’

‘Right.’ I was tired of smiling to no avail. ‘So I’ll just make my own way up to the house, shall I?’

His expression was unreadable. ‘Were you expecting a lift?’

We stared at each other for a moment. A huge chestnut hunter whickered softly at the fence nearby.

‘Beautiful horse.’

‘Just for show really. Maya rides them occasionally.’

‘Oh?’

‘When she—’ He stopped, ran a hand through his fashionably dishevelled hair. Was it affection I detected?

‘When she what?’ I prompted gently.

‘Nothing,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m pretty busy actually.’

I’ll bet. Cleaning cars. Flat out
.

‘So if you don’t mind …’ He turned away. Normally I found a Scottish accent attractive, but his annoyed me intensely.

‘Of course. Thanks a lot for your help.’

If he detected the sarcasm he didn’t react and he disappeared back into the depths of the garage without a second glance. I took a deep breath, and carried on up to the house.

I was like Catherine Morland from Jane Austen’s
Northanger Abbey
, imagining ghosts and villains where there were none, always looking for drama round the next corner. I had to accept that my addiction lingered, despite my self-imposed retirement. Ridiculous, I told myself, unlocking the car door. I turned the radio on, clicked my seat belt in and began to reverse towards the fountain, where I could turn.

‘This is the sound of a bomb not exploding because the neighbours noticed the chemicals being stored in the garage,’
a male voice droned from the radio.

‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ I muttered, putting my foot down. ‘Bloody idiots.’

Suddenly a man was hanging on to my door, desperately trying to rip it open. I braked sharply.

‘Call the police,’ he was shouting, his thin blue-black face shiny with sweat, his eyes wide with fear. ‘Call the police, tell ‘em she’s a prisoner and I—’

‘Please,’ I tried to keep calm, ‘let go of the door.’

‘Let me in.’ He rattled the handle.

‘I will. Just please, let go and – and we can talk properly.’

He wasn’t listening to me; he seemed delirious with terror. There was spittle on his broad lower lip as he intoned, ‘Call ‘em now, call ‘em now. Tell them the truth about this family, about that man.’

‘Please,’ I tried again, ‘just calm down, OK?’

His face was pressed up hard against the car window, his nose flattened horribly against the glass, pupils dilated, the whites yellow.

I undid the central locking and he saw his chance. He tugged open the door and started to pull me out.

‘Hang on,’ I cried frantically. ‘Just, please, let me—’

He was really hurting me, both hands on the collar of my fleece, pulling me against my seat belt until it cut into my neck, threatening to strangle me.

‘Please,’ I gasped for air. ‘I can’t breathe.’

When I was small, a boy at the local swimming pool had got into trouble in the deep end; as the proud owner of a Silver lifesavers’ badge, I’d dived in to help. But panic had made him mad and instead of letting me guide him safely to the side, he’d used me as a float, holding my head under water as he fought to stay alive, pushing me down until I thought I would die, my lungs exploding with the effort to get air.

‘Please,’ I gasped now, ‘my neck. You’re hurting me.’ But the man was so frantic, he was deaf to my plea. ‘Please stop.’

A pair of arms came around the man and he was pulled to the floor, hands forced behind his back.

Feet on the gravel now but still sitting in the car, I bent double, staring at my shoes, trying to get my breath. When I looked up, a young Asian man had one knee in the small of the man’s back, and Callendar was sprinting up the drive.

‘Are you OK?’ he called as he neared.

I nodded uncertainly.

‘Get off me, get off me,’ the man on the floor was moaning.

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

Callendar and I stared at one other; a moment suspended in time. I looked at him and I felt nothing but confusion.

‘You need to leave now.’ He spoke first, breaking the tension. ‘It’s not safe for you here.’ His tone was urgent.

‘But …’ I looked at the man on the floor, ‘he needs help. The police, he said—’

‘He needs locking up,’ the Asian man spat, ‘don’t you, blood? Fucking nutter.’

I recognised him from the party; the man who had waited for Hadi Kattan by the door, now dressed in combats and a vest in place of the shiny suit he’d worn last night, a faded tattoo of a star and moon on his upper bicep. He pulled the black guy up by the hands and then dropped him again heavily so his face hit the gravel.

‘Don’t!’ I shouted, wincing as I felt the thud of his torso smacking the ground. ‘Please.’

Callendar moved between me and the two men, his jaw set rigid.

‘Zack, take him up to the house.’ From the corner of my eye, I saw him boot the man on the floor in the ribs.

‘My pleasure.’ Zack pushed the man’s face into the gravel again. I winced.

‘Your neck.’ Callendar reached an arm out to me and I tried not to flinch. ‘You’re bleeding.’ He held his sleeve against the welts that were already rising there. For the first time, I felt frightened of this man.

‘I’m fine.’ I felt the pressure of his arm on my skin.

‘Get it seen to, I would.’ He stepped back now.

‘But I think … ‘ I began rather helplessly. I didn’t know what to think, that was the truth.

‘Don’t think,’ Danny said quietly, reading my mind. I saw blood on his sleeve. My blood – or older, darker – drying blood? ‘Please, Mrs Miller, just get in your car, and go.’

‘But …’ I stammered. ‘I’m more worried about him.’

‘It’s family business, love,’ the man called Zack said over his shoulder, as he hauled the black guy to his feet and marched him towards the house, scooping up some tool box he had evidently been carrying under one arm. The black man’s face was bleeding from the gravel, blood and stones speckling his face like some kind of unholy pox.

‘Call the police,’ he groaned. ‘Call ‘em before it’s too late.’

‘Shut it, you,’ Zack snapped, giving the man a shove so he stumbled. Zack grabbed his wrist before he hit the floor again and manoeuvred him up the front steps.

‘Danny …’ I’d never said his name before. It sounded oddly intimate. ‘Please, what’s going on here?’

‘Don’t worry about it.’ He pushed me inside the car again. ‘It’s not your concern.’

‘Is that meant to reassure me?’ I said.

Danny shrugged. ‘Not really. Remember, Mrs Miller, too much poking around can make Rose a very dull girl.’ His face was grim. ‘Understand, pet?’

He shut my car door hard, and walked towards the house.

I sat there for a minute, my hands clammy on the wheel, watching as Danny Callendar disappeared into the house behind the other two men. I sat there, absolutely impotent, angry and shaken, unsure what to do. I cursed myself for ever coming here.

In the end, time decided things for me. If I didn’t leave now, I’d be late for the twins. I turned the car back down the drive, my eyes fixed in my mirror as the house receded. It was finally quiet from the outside, but God only knew what was happening inside.