Never Tell (30 page)

‘Bono, Radiohead, Coldplay? Plus he co-owns three large nightclubs with a massive turnover. Occasionally we holiday in the towns they’re based in, but other than that, we mostly go to the Peak District to stay with my mum and dad. And like I said, I used to be fairly successful myself before I had Alicia.’ I drew breath, steadied myself. ‘We’re doing all right for ourselves, thank you. That doesn’t mean we are criminals.’

She changed tack. ‘So he’s away a lot, your husband. And you keep up with his arrangements, do you?’

‘He travels all the time. It’s normal in his line of work. We both used to, when I worked full time. It’s hard, with three small kids, to keep up with exact schedules.’

DS Montford looked unimpressed. ‘Does he often say he’s out of the country when he’s not?’ She peered at me over black rectangular glasses, like an impatient schoolteacher.

‘Sorry, I don’t follow,’ I said, glancing at the clock. ‘Will this take much longer? I have to collect my twins soon.’

‘Not much longer, no,’ she smiled affably, perusing her notes briefly. ‘The thing is, you’ve just told me Mr Miller’s last business trip was to Vietnam, last month.’

‘That’s right.’

‘Only, according to all our information, he never left the country.’

‘Never left the country,’ I repeated stupidly. My mouth was suddenly dry as sandpaper. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Pretty sure, yes. He never boarded the flight you say he did. He never crossed a border.’

‘But I dropped him at the airport. I spoke to him out there and everything.’ I thought of the crackly line, the shouted conversation. Helen Kelsey’s smug little face reared into my mind.
I saw him driving yesterday
. I looked at the policewoman. ‘As far as I know, he was abroad.’

‘He wasn’t, you know.’

‘Well, where was he?’

‘As his wife, Mrs Miller, I was hoping that you could have enlightened me on that one.’

I felt a tightening in my chest. I didn’t answer.

‘As it is, we’re just trying to ascertain exactly where he was.’

‘Are you enjoying this?’ I asked her flatly. ‘Because you look like you are.’

‘Just doing my job, Mrs Miller,’ she smiled grimly, and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. ‘Just doing my job.’

They wouldn’t let me see James that morning. I knew that they probably couldn’t hold him much longer without charging him: the lawyer said they still hadn’t. But they also wouldn’t free him.

I drove home through hedgerows still bursting with spring. Unbelievable that in the midst of this burgeoning beauty my life had just turned on its head; I feared it was not about to turn back soon. I was just grateful that for now, the children were still oblivious to the situation.

A white butterfly fluttered across the windscreen – but when I glanced again to see it fly to freedom, it had disappeared. I had a horrible feeling that I had just destroyed it. Annihilated for simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was starting to realise this wasn’t all just a horrible mistake.

Chapter Twenty-Two

That night, after I’d read stories, sung songs, warmed endless milk and kissed fat cheeks, trying desperately to pretend everything was absolutely normal, that Daddy was away for work again, that I was actually sane, I wrapped a blanket around myself and went alone into the dark. I sat on the bench beneath the magnolia tree, now bare of its petals, and listened to the gentle popple of the pond as the frogs broke the surface; I thought that this night-time peace was one of the things that had made my isolated life here worth it.

I had been so lonely recently in the presence of my husband. I thought about the fact that now he was not here, it didn’t feel wrong.

There was a soft crunch of gravel underfoot; my head snapped round. And then he was there, stealthy as the cat he had entered the garden without me realising; he was standing to my left.

He stood beneath the stone archway where the roses grew in summer. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began to race until I had to forcibly quell it. There were so many things to say and yet nothing at all. I didn’t want to sound recriminatory and yet there were only recriminations. I was stupidly glad that he had come, although I knew I shouldn’t be; and yet so hurt and confused that I didn’t know where to start.

Why did you vanish? Why did you threaten me? Why did you come near me in the first place?

Questions flooded my head and yet I stayed silent. I stared at him as he leaned back against the wall, contemplating me. In the half-light it was hard to see him properly. With a pain like a hammer striking home I realised the only thing I wanted to do was reach out and touch him – and yet I was still so angry I wanted to scream. Worst of all, I was furious with myself for feeling like this.

In the end I said, ‘Have you come to hurt my children? Because you’ll have to hurt me first.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was low and hoarse, and he seemed more unsure than I’d known him before.

‘Great. Thanks for the apology.’ I stood up. ‘Please, will you go now?’

My legs were unsteady because I’d been sitting for so long. He crossed the gravel in two strides and I stepped back quickly, out of his reach, almost overbalancing in my haste to get away.

‘Please, Rose. I am really sorry. I just can’t—’

‘What?’ I put my hands up to ward him off although he had not touched me yet. ‘What, Danny? Sorry that you slept with a married woman? Sorry that you threatened my kids? Sorry that you just disappeared?’

‘I would never have hurt them, you must know that.’

‘How do I know that? I don’t know you at all, that much is clear.’

‘I can’t explain, not now.’

‘Why not?’

‘I shouldn’t even be here.’

‘Why shouldn’t you?’

‘Because. I can’t explain. Not now.’

‘Right. Well, don’t then.’ I slipped out of his shadow and moved to step into the house. But before I could, he pulled me back.

‘Don’t,’ I croaked, but found I couldn’t stop him. I just wanted to not think, to lose myself for a while.

‘Rose,’ he whispered, ‘I’m so sorry,’ and then he picked me up and I let him; he carried me into the house and I was crying tears of sorrow, anger and frustration, and I wanted to pummel him with my clenched fists but instead I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him back until my mouth hurt. I felt his warm skin beneath my splayed fingers and he held me so tight I felt he could crush me and at that moment it would have been all right, because I sought oblivion.

Afterwards we lay on the floor beside each other and listened to the sounds of the night outside. I looked over at him. He had a scar on his face that somehow I had never noticed before, a small white nick below his left cheekbone. He looked back and then he stroked my face, my sore cheek where James had hit me, only now the bruises had faded.

‘God, Rose,’ he muttered.

‘What?’

‘Just …’ He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. ‘You.’

My heart caught on itself, but somewhere deep down I didn’t believe him any more.

He felt for his tobacco. ‘Want one?’

‘I don’t smoke. Don’t you remember?’ I rolled away from his warm arms. I lay on the bare floorboards and I felt like an island floating alone, and then I thought, I must get up and put some clothes on before one of the children wake up. Only I couldn’t move, not yet.

‘I do remember, aye. I was just being polite.’

‘Well, don’t be polite. You’ve never bothered before.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said equably. ‘Sweet then?’

‘I don’t want a sweet.’ I was being petulant, I knew. ‘Why do you always eat them?’

‘Trying to give up smoking. I got hooked on both instead.’ He ran a hand over the floor. ‘Home improvements?’

‘I tore the carpet up.’

I hadn’t been able to bear the bloodstains any more, so I’d hacked at it last night. The only time I had cried since James’s arrest; I’d sat amidst underlay and tacks and wool pile and sobbed.

I looked back at Danny. ‘Why are you here? I still don’t understand.’

‘Because I wanted to see you.’

‘Where’ve you been?’

‘Here and there.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m going to have to go, Rose. I’m sorry.’

I felt numb, like my soul was being sucked out, like I’d finally lost all sense of levity and joy. I knew we did not belong together. That much had become clear.

‘Danny?’

‘Aye.’

‘Did you know James has been arrested?’

He sat up and felt in his discarded jacket for a light. ‘I had heard, aye.’

‘Ash Kattan was here.’

‘When?’

‘The night James got arrested. Do you know why?’

‘Nope.’

I wanted to touch him and yet I couldn’t.

‘Can I ask you something else?’ I said quietly.

‘Go on.’

‘Was it because of the children?’

He lit the roll-up. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you vanish, did you hate the – the idea of me in the end because of the children?’

‘I don’t understand.’ He ran a hand through his hair; he looked tired. He rubbed his face as if to rouse himself.

‘Because I was not just me?’

‘Rose, it was nothing to do with your weans, I swear. Or you. Not in the way you think.’

‘What then?’

‘One day you’ll understand, pet.’ Danny inhaled deeply. He stared at the ceiling. Car headlights moved across it, two white discs sliding down the shadowed wall. ‘I promise you that.’

‘So why did you come back?’ I whispered. I would not cry again.

‘I came to find you – to tell you.’ He reached out and ran a hand down my ribcage. My stomach contracted. ‘I came to tell you that I was sorry.’

‘You came to find me, to say sorry,’ I was parroting again. ‘And that’s it?’

‘I’m good at finding things.’ The end of the roll-up was a tiny firefly in the darkness. ‘That’s what I do.’

I rolled back to him and stared down into his face. ‘Just not so good at keeping them.’

‘That may be true, Rose Miller. It may well be true.’ He looked up at me, the blue of his eyes doused by the dim light; and then he ran one finger down my cheek. I could feel the heat of the cigarette on my skin. ‘I wish I could stay.’

‘But you can’t.’

‘It’s not something I’m glad about.’

I moved my head away. ‘What
are
you glad about?’

‘Right now,’ Danny stood up fluidly and walked to the window, buttoning up his jeans, ‘not much.’

I watched him wordlessly.

‘I’m flying out to join Kattan tomorrow.’ He looked down the drive. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye.’ He drew the blinds.

‘Where is he? Kattan?’ I stared at Danny’s naked back. He was lean in the moonlight, the well-defined muscles, the dip in the small of his back, the black dragon on his shoulder shadowed and smooth, another smaller tattoo on the other bicep, some kind of flag I didn’t recognise. ‘Where is he now?’

‘Abroad. On his way home, I think.’

‘And you’re not here any more either, are you? In spirit, you’re not here?’

‘Not in the way you want me to be, no, I suppose not.’

I wanted to scream ‘Don’t go!’ but I couldn’t speak. I took a deep breath.

‘I think you should leave now, Danny.’

He swung round. ‘I
can’t
be here, Rose. It’s not that I don’t want to be. It’s just – I can’t.’

‘Whatever. It’s fine.’ I stood quickly and pulled my old sweatshirt back over my head, scraping my hair angrily back from my face. ‘Please, just go.’

How easy it is to say in love the opposite of what is actually meant.

‘If that’s what you want,’ Danny shrugged. ‘I guess you’re right.’

How hard it is to confess what we really feel. To lay ourselves open, on the line.

I stared at him. ‘Could you not even argue?’

He didn’t answer, just got dressed silently. When he left he leaned to kiss me on the mouth, but I moved my head so that his cool lips landed awkwardly on my cheek. He stared down at me and in the half-light I could see the piercing blue of his eyes again, and I felt despair.

And when he left, slipping out of the back door like a furtive lover from some bad farce, I felt so much worse than I had before. I stared out into the dark.

When I went back into the living room, I saw he’d left his old jumper on the sofa, and a stupid lemon sherbet sweet had fallen from his pocket. I picked them up and carried them into the kitchen; I held them above the bin.

I despised myself for wanting him. I despised myself for wishing he had stayed. I hadn’t meant to let him in but he’d got in anyway, like a fine layer of sand beneath my skin, he was there, hurting me because I couldn’t have him and couldn’t rid my head of him. And perhaps I had been greedy and bad, perhaps I deserved the pain. Whichever, I was sure as hell paying for it now.

I felt dead inside; I had lost any vestige of hope I had left. He might have said I was beautiful but still, he left. And I was a bad, bad woman who had cheated on her husband; who yearned to run away, who had, at one mad moment, forgotten she was a mother and only remembered that she was full of lust and longing and – love.

I carried his jumper upstairs and I breathed in its smell, just once. Then I tucked it into my bottom drawer, beneath my old pyjamas.

Chapter Twenty-Three
THE TIMES, MAY 2008

Record producer James Miller has reportedly been granted bail. He is at home in Gloucestershire awaiting the outcome of an investigation conducted by the Met, apparently in conjunction with drug trafficking. As yet no charges have been brought. Thirty-nine-year-old Miller declined to comment, although friends say he is fully intending to prove his innocence, should there be any need to
.

They sent James home the next day. He was exhausted; hadn’t slept at all, he said, and he looked thinner already, though he surely couldn’t be.

‘I’ve been fucking set up, Rose,’ he kept saying. He sat at the kitchen table and drank a bottle of heavy burgundy, glass after glass of it. ‘He set me up.’

‘Who?’ I couldn’t bear it. ‘Do you mean Liam?’