The Guilty Wife (19 page)

'Yes,' Lucie answered on a long, tired breath. 'All right.'

She went to bed but it was over an hour later before she heard Seton come home. He didn't come to her room to check that she was there or even call goodnight; perhaps he thought she was asleep, and he must have known that she would never leave Sam alone in the house.

Lucie had no idea how she got through the next day. It was Saturday, so both Sam and Seton were home, but luckily they spent most of the day in the garden, clearing up the leaves and making a bonfire on which they roasted potatoes in the embers. Sam was laughing and happy, his confidence returning, but Lucie watched them both with sad, sombre eyes, knowing what she had to do that night.

At one-thirty in the morning Lucie let herself out of her room and went quietly down the stairs. What preparations she'd thought necessary had already been done: hinges on doors oiled, the petrol in the car checked. The garage doors opened quietly and she let the car coast down the drive and out into the road, letting it roll as far down the hill as it would go before starting the engine. It was very dark, the moon completely obscured, but she knew the way and drove with grim purposefulness. When she reached the telephone box she could see no sign of Rick, but she was early and settled down to wait.

Then the passenger door opened and he slid inside. 'Turn off the courtesy light,' he growled at her. 'Haven't you got any sense?'

But in those few moments she had seen his face and was completely shocked. Once, when she'd known him, he'd been handsome in a dark, saturnine kind of way, but his years in gaol had changed him. His face was fat now, his cheeks swollen so that his eyes were pig-like slits, and his lean jaw had become a pendulous double chin. His hair, which he had once been so proud of and forever combing, had receded, and what was left of it was greasy and unkempt.

He smelt too, of whisky and unwashed clothes and sweat. And of triumph. Taking off a glove, he reached out and Tan a hand down her hair and her face, then laughed when she flinched away. Deliberately he put his hand on her breast and fondled her. 'I can do anything I damn well want to you, doll, and you can't do a thing about it.'

From disgust Lucie found courage. 'Not if you want me to help you tonight, you damn well can't!'

He laughed again, but put the glove back on and, taking a torch from his pocket, started to search the car, looking in the glove compartment, feeling under the dashboard and making her get out so he could search under her seat. Then he got in the back, pushed Sam's toys that she'd left there aside, and searched that too.

'Just checking that you haven't taken any ideas into your head about trying to pull a fast one,' he said as he got back into the car beside her. 'Let's get going.'

She started the car. 'Where are we going?'

‘I’ll direct you.'

They didn't trust each other, which was hardly surprising. Rick gave her directions and occasionally took a swig of whisky from a pocket flask. Twice he tried to put his hand on her leg, but Lucie swerved the car violently, making him swear, and then he left her alone.

He didn't tell her where they were going, but he couldn't hide the road signs, and Lucie took careful note as they drove along. From the trip meter she saw that they'd travelled more than thirty miles when he told her to pull off the road into a narrow, overgrown lane. On one side was a high wall and on the other thick undergrowth. They went along the lane for a couple of hundred yards to a clearing where he made her turn the car round. 'Now reverse down the lane till I tell you to stop,' Rick instructed.

She did so and, when they stopped, found that she was under the outspread branches of a huge tree that grew on the other side of the wall. Turn off the engine and the lights.'

He pulled a black Balaclava over his head, immediately transforming himself into a dangerous, fearsome thug. Leaning past her, he took the keys out of the ignition. 'Just to make sure you don't drive away,' he told her. 'And if you do try anything—then so long, Sam. And don't forget—if anything happens to me then I've got friends who'll do it for me.' He put his hand under her chin, gripped her throat till he bruised her skin, enjoying hurting her. 'Do you understand?'

She couldn't speak, only nod. But he was satisfied and let her go.

Getting out, he climbed on the roof of the car and from there got over the wall—using the tree to help him climb down, Luck supposed. She gave him ten agonisingly long minutes then reached into the back and picked up a toy rabbit of Sam's, pulled a hanging thread so that the stitching in its back came undone and extracted the mobile phone she'd sewn inside. Then she got out and ran back to the main road, following the wall round until she found a gate and the name of the place. It wasn't a private house, it was a club! And a rich and exclusive one by the look of it.

Turning on the phone, Lucie called the police and gave them the address, told them that a robbery was in progress, giving as much detail as she could. When they asked her name she gave it; there was no point in doing otherwise—

there would be no escape for her. Rick would surely shop her, and anyway they were using Seton's car. That massive, irrecoverable step taken, Lucie felt a wonderful sense of relief and concentrated on that, pushing all thoughts of the grim future aside. Walking back to the car, she sat inside it, fatalistically waiting to see what would happen.

After about ten minutes she expected to hear police sirens arriving and got more nervous as the silence of the night was unbroken. Half an hour later Rick came back, jumping down onto the roof of the car, putting something in the back, then breathing heavily as he got in beside her. With a feeling of sick, angry despair, Lucie realised that the police hadn't believed her or had gone to the wrong place. All her careful planning had been in vain. Now what was she going to do?

'Go on, drive.'

'You've got the keys.'

He fished for them in his pocket, gave them to her. As he raised the black sweater he was wearing Lucie caught a glimpse of something metallic and knew that he had a gun. Her blood ran cold, but there was nothing she could do. Starting the car, she drove down the lane to the main road.

The police were there, waiting. They had cars in a half-circle, completely blocking any escape. Rick gave a gasp of horrified dismay. 'Keep going,' he yelled at her. 'Knock them out of the way.'

But Lucie was pressing the electric button of the window as she braked. Putting her head out, she yelled, 'He's got a gun! Look out.'

With a snarl Rick grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She felt the barrel of the gun cold against her neck. 'Drive, you bitch.
Drive!'

But Lucie kept her foot on the brake until with an oath he reached across with his foot and kicked hers off the pedal, then pressed down the accelerator. The car shot forward, hit one of the police cars and, being the heavier vehicle, started to push it out of the way, a gap opening before them. Rick gave a shout of triumph and pressed harder on the accelerator, then saw that a policeman had run alongside and pulled open the driver's door. 'Keep away or she gets it,' he screamed out, letting the man see the gun.

Lucie gave a cry of terror but tried to steer the car away from the growing gap. But Rick hit her and pressed on the throttle again, and then they were through, the tearing metal of the car adding its own jarring scream to shatter the night.

Suddenly, just as they were gathering speed, the door on Rick's side was jerked open and someone leapt half on top of him, catching the hand with the gun and pulling it away from her. Then she heard Seton's voice and knew it was him. She turned to help him but he yelled, 'Jump, Lucie. Jump!’

They were struggling together, fighting for control of the gun, of the car. Petrified with fear for him, she cried, 'No! I can't leave you.'

But Seton shouted frantically, 'Go, my love.
Jump!'

The car slowed a little as Rick tried to fight Seton off, so with a sob of fear Lucie opened her door, put her arms over her head and let herself fall out. She landed with a thud that took her breath away, and found herself rolling down a slope, bruising her legs and hurting her ankle. But fear for Seton overcame any hurt and she quickly scrambled to her feet and climbed back up the slope, tried to run along the road after the car, but a policeman came up and caught hold of her.

'My husband! He's hi the car. Oh, help him, please help him.'

But other men were already running past her, racing after the car. It disappeared round a bend in the road and she began to cry with dread. Then there was a loud noise, a boom hike an explosion, she saw a flash and flames through the trees. For a moment every sense seemed to stop, then she heard a scream that was her own and she had pulled herself free and was running down the road.

The car had hit a tree, hit it hard, and burst immediately into flames.

'Seton!' Her terrified cry made them turn towards her. Two policeman barred her way, stepped in front of her so she couldn't see. She pictured Seton inside the car, burning, dying, and struggled to get past, to get him out. But then she heard a shout and saw a policeman helping someone up from where he'd been lying at the side of the road. The man stood and she recognised his shape even in the darkness, even before she saw his face in the light of the flames. They let her go and with a cry of pure joy Lucie ran to throw herself in his arms, to go back where she belonged.

It was many hours later; the day Was almost over and it was getting dark. They were at home, the three of them, with nothing, physically, to show for the previous night but a few bruises. Most of the day had been spent at the police station, being interviewed by first one lot of policemen then another, Lucie with her hand in Seton's, holding it very tightly.

He knew everything now, had known most of it before. It seemed that when the police in Manchester had arrested her, they had looked her up on their computer and found out about her past, then passed on the information to the local police, who had in turn talked to Seton on the phone the first day she'd been home. The computer had, of course, thrown up her connection with Rick, and the police had been looking for him again for some time. They had persuaded Seton to let them put a tap on the phone white he and she were out with Sam, and that evening he had gone to the pub and met the police there. Even while he'd been talking to them they had picked up Rick's call, had known about the burglary before Lucie had called them. They even knew where it was because they'd put a tracking device in her car. The car that was now a burnt-out wreck and in which Rick had died. The police had been very kind, considering. They were told they were free to go, that technically Lucie had committed no crime and there would be no charges.

They ate and put Sam to bed; he'd been quite excited when he'd woken that morning to find 'a police lady' waiting to spend the day with him, but had run to them when at last they had got home. When they were alone, Seton drew her down beside him on the settee. Stroking her hair where it curled on her neck, which was still bruised by Rick's fingers, he said, 'You know, there are some questions I still have to ask you.'

Lucie sighed. 'Yes. You want to know why I didn't tell you, when we first met, that I'd been to prison.'

"That is definitely one of them,' he agreed. 'It came as quite a shock when the police told me.'

'Surely you can guess? I was so ashamed of my past. I made up a story to cover those years and whenever I was asked—when applying for a job, getting to know a friend, that kind of thing—that was the story I told.' She gave a wry laugh. 'It was what I wanted to believe, I suppose. So when you asked me that first evening we spent together, when we had the Chinese meal, I told you too. I didn't expect to see you again, you see.'

'But then I made it dear that I wanted to go on seeing you for the rest of my life and you were in a quandary.'

Lucie nodded. 'I was afraid that I was wrong for you, that I'd let you down.'

'Which you never have,' Seton said loyally.

'How can you possibly say that after the last few months?' Lucie protested. 'I've brought you such misery and wretchedness. I was trying so hard to keep it all from you, to save you from hurt, but everything kept getting worse and worse.'

The ringers that were stroking her hair became still. 'Couldn't you have trusted me? You've been living a lie all these years...'

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes in the lamplight very intense. 'I was always petrified that if you found out I might lose you.'

'Surely you knew that I would never leave you?'

'Oh, yes, I knew you'd stay because you're an honourable man—but there are other things to lose that could have destroyed us. I was afraid of losing your respect, of falling off the pedestal you'd built under me. I was afraid that other people might find out and you'd lose your friends, your parents might turn against me, your colleagues talk about you behind your back. I could see yon being thought unsuitable to take important cases, you being pushed out of chambers.' She paused and her eyes grew sad. 'I still can, when all this comes out.'

'It won't,' Seton said strongly. 'Ravena is dead and as far as the police is concerned the case is closed.'

She raised strained, terrified eyes to his. 'He took Sam once; he said that even if I went to the police one of his friends would take Sam away from us.'

Seton put a finger over her lips. 'He didn't have any friends; he was too untrustworthy. You mustn't be afraid of that. It was just an empty threat to make you do what he wanted.'

'Oh.' Luck looked at him with hope shining in her face. 'Does that mean that Sam will be safe?'

'Quite safe,' he assured her. 'I'm certain of it.'

Balling her hands into fists, Luck looked away. There was still something that had to be said, an option she had to give him. With great difficulty, she said, 'If—after this, now that you've found out I'm an ex-con, you feel that you'd rather we didn't go on together, that you'd like us to part, I shall—shall quite understand.'

Putting a finger under her chin, Seton tilted her head to look at him. 'I listened to the tape the police made of Ravena's phone call to you. He told you he was going to Spain, that you'd never hear from him again. You could have gone along with that, could have let him do the burglary and said nothing. Been free of him at last. But you called the police. Why did you do that, Lucie?'