Authors: Linda Kavanagh
‘I’d like to get you something nice, you know, to make up for not being there,’ Alan said softly, knowing that he was wheedling, but unable to stop himself. ‘Would you like a new bike, or an even better tennis racquet?’
Walking off, Kerry pretended not to hear.
The following morning, as Kerry climbed up the big tree at Greygates to join her friend on the platform, Laura was all smiles. ‘How did your tennis tournament go?’
Kerry shrugged her shoulders. ‘It was okay. But I was beaten in the finals.’
Laura squeezed her friend’s arm affectionately, knowing how much Kerry always wanted to win. ‘What bad luck – but I’m sure you’ll win the trophy next year!’
Kerry looked bored. ‘It doesn’t really matter. I think I might give up tennis anyway.’
Laura looked startled. ‘You don’t mean that – you love tennis! I’m the idiot who can’t hit a ball straight, but you’re brilliant at it!’
Kerry quickly changed the subject, not keen to discuss her humiliation any further.
‘How was your day yesterday? Did you do anything exciting?’
Laura grimaced. ‘I was really looking forward to telling Mum and Dad how well I’m doing at ballet, but when they came home from the parent-teacher meeting at the school, I knew by their faces that I was in trouble! Apparently, my end-of-term maths test was a disaster –’
But Kerry was no longer listening. ‘Your parents were at the school yesterday afternoon?’
Laura nodded. ‘You’re lucky that your parent-teacher meeting was last week! Now Mum is furious with me. Dad is being a lot nicer about it, but he said I might have to go for a maths grind this year –’
Rage filled Kerry’s heart – Mr Thornton had lied to her. He’d told her that he was attending a business meeting, whereas he’d put Laura’s school visit before her tennis tournament. Which wasn’t really surprising – inevitably, Mr Thornton would choose Laura over her. She had no claim on him, other than the fact that she longed for his attention. But why did he say he’d attend her tournament if he knew he couldn’t? Didn’t she deserve even the tiniest bit of consideration?
Tears filled her eyes. Not having a dad of one’s own was the most awful thing that could happen and, as always, Kerry felt the loss acutely.
‘Are you okay?’ Laura darted a concerned look at her friend, even though she knew Kerry would never willingly acknowledge her own vulnerability.
‘I’m fine,’ Kerry snapped. ‘I’m just a bit tired.’
Laura nodded, at a loss to help her friend who was obviously hurting, and the two girls sat together in silence.
Laura was the first to feel the raindrops. ‘Looks like we’d better go indoors,’ she said quietly, and began scrambling down the tree as the rain started to get heavier. ‘Let’s go back to the house – we could try finishing that jigsaw I got last Christmas. And I could show you the new antique figurine that Dad’s recently added to his Lladró collection. It’s a really valuable piece, and he’s so chuffed to have found it.’
Kerry’s eyes narrowed. ‘Okay,’ she said.
It was late, but Alan wasn’t ready for sleep. As he headed for his study, he kissed Sylvia’s cheek as she stood at the bottom of the staircase. ‘I’ll follow you up later, Syl. I’ve one or two reports I need to read first.’
Sylvia smiled tenderly at him. ‘You work so hard, darling – don’t you ever take a break? I hope you realise just how much I – we – all love you. And appreciate your efforts.’
Alan nodded, feeling overwhelmed by guilt. Thank goodness Sylvia had no idea about his other life. The hair on the back of his neck rose at the mere thought of her discovering his duplicity. He loved Ellie, but juggling both lives was proving inordinately stressful. He was also riddled with guilt over poor Kerry – he’d genuinely intended being present at her tennis tournament. But he was only one man – maybe it simply wasn’t possible to keep two relationships successfully running in tandem.
In the peace and privacy of his study, Alan sat down at his desk in his big leather swivel chair. There was a certain comfort in having a private space of one’s own. Especially since the rest of his life was monitored so tightly by all the other people around him. Here, at least, he didn’t need to answer to anyone.
Idly he spun around in his chair, allowing his eyes to rest briefly on the things he loved as he viewed the room. Leather chairs, shelves full of books – most of which he’d never read – a built-in bar, with cut-crystal glasses and a selection of whiskies. He smiled ruefully to himself as he poured a single malt, enjoying the intense aroma before taking his first sip. As he relaxed over his whisky, Alan allowed himself the supreme luxury of thinking about nothing at all.
After topping up his glass a second time, he allowed the chair to circle once again, his eyes alighting on his precious Lladró collection, which stretched along the top shelf of the bookcase. It gave him a thrill when he came across a rare piece, especially if he got it at a knockdown price. He’d discovered such a piece on a recent trip abroad, and he hadn’t hesitated to buy it, since he knew it would cost twice as much if he’d acquired it in London.
Now, he swung his chair round to enjoy the delights of his most recent purchase. It was entitled ‘Spring Birds’, and he’d carefully placed it alongside his other acquisitions.
His eyes were by now slightly glazed from the whisky, but he didn’t think his eyesight was sufficiently affected as to render his new ‘Spring Birds’ figurine invisible. Urging his chair to make another circuit, the only conclusion he could reach was that his newest acquisition wasn’t on the top shelf any longer. Yet he definitely remembered putting it there – he was certain of it.
As he hoisted himself up out of the chair, he heard a crunching sound underfoot. Looking under his desk, he discovered his new figurine lying shattered on the carpet. As he studied the pattern of destruction, he noticed a small indentation in the wood of the desk that signified the figure had been smashed against it. It had been broken on purpose and in anger, and the culprit hadn’t even bothered to disguise their actions. Presumably they’d wanted him to know how angry they felt.
Upstairs in the bedroom, Alan began undressing in the dark. ‘Are you still awake, Syl?’
‘Hmmm,’ Sylvia mumbled sleepily, turning round to face him.
‘You know that new Lladró piece I bought recently? Well, I’m afraid it’s broken.’
‘What?’ Sylvia sat up in the bed and switched on her bedside light. ‘What happened?’
Alan hesitated. ‘I seem to have knocked it off the shelf,’ he lied. ‘A pity – there aren’t many editions of that particular piece.’
Sylvia was immediately sympathetic. ‘What rotten luck, darling! I know you were so pleased to have found it, and at such a great price, too! Never mind, I’m sure you’ll eventually track down a replacement. That’s the fun of the chase for you collectors, isn’t it?’
Alan nodded, climbing into bed beside her and pulling the duvet over him. ‘By the way, has Kerry been here recently?’
Sylvia nodded before turning off her bedside light again. ‘She and Laura were doing a jigsaw puzzle on the kitchen table earlier today.’ Sylvia paused for a second. ‘Why did you ask about her?’
In the darkness, it was easier to lie. ‘Oh, no reason. I just wondered, that’s all.’
L
aura awoke to find the sun streaming in through her bedroom window and, for a moment, she forgot about her late-night intruder. She’d fallen asleep with her head still resting against the headboard, and her muscles now felt stiff and sore from lying in such a cramped and unfamiliar position. Then she remembered the terror she’d felt the night before but, in the daylight, things didn’t seem quite so frightening. Jumping out of bed, she left the bedroom and tiptoed up the staircase onto the floor above, finding a bundle of keys for the various rooms resting on the console table in the hall.
She also discovered what had been making the scraping sound the night before.
Lying on the floor just inside the front door was a large envelope. Clearly it had been stuffed through her letterbox with difficulty, and had been bent in the middle in order to get it through. Laura instantly felt rather foolish. But who would be delivering a letter at around 3 a.m.?
Tearing off the top of the envelope, Laura drew out a large
Good Luck in Your New Home
card. When she opened it, her heart sank. It was signed: ‘
Jeff’.
Then her annoyance turned to anger. Jeff had cost her another night’s sleep! And how on earth had the card reached her apartment? There was no stamp on it, so clearly it had been hand-delivered. Surely Jeff didn’t have access to the apartment complex?
Dressing quickly, Laura left her apartment clutching the card and its envelope, and headed downstairs. She needed to catch the night-duty concierge before he finished his shift.
In the hall, the elderly concierge greeted Laura warmly, but she was in no mood for pleasantries. Quickly she told him her name and apartment number and showed him the card.
‘Oh, yes,’ said the concierge, beaming. ‘A very nice, tall, blond man called here last night. He begged me to let him deliver the card to your apartment, but naturally I couldn’t allow him to do that. So he asked me if I’d deliver it.’ The concierge smiled at her. ‘When things were slack, around three o’clock, I managed to go up and push it through your letterbox. It was a bit on the large size for the slot, so I had to bend it a bit to squeeze it through – I hope the noise didn’t wake you? But the guy was adamant that he wanted you to get it first thing this morning – to celebrate the start of your first full day in the apartment.’
The concierge looked pleased with himself, thinking he’d done her a favour, and clearly expecting her to be grateful. But the smile was quickly wiped from his face when Laura explained the situation.
‘Please – don’t ever let him near my apartment,’ she begged him, ‘no matter what he says – believe me, I don’t want my ex-husband within a million miles of me. And I’d be grateful if you could tell the other concierges – or do you want me to have a word with them?’
‘No, it’s okay – I’ll let them know,’ the elderly man told her, looking concerned. ‘I’m sorry about the card, but please don’t worry any further. We’ll make sure you’re safe here – that’s our job.’
Bleary-eyed, Laura returned to her apartment. She had no doubt that Jeff had deliberately chosen to have the card delivered during the night, and he’d selected a large card so that the
noise of it being stuffed through the letterbox was bound to frighten her. But, more worrying, was the fact that he’d discovered where she was living. Was she ever going to be rid of him?
Laura phoned the estate agent’s office.
‘Avril, it’s Laura Thornton. Did you let anyone know that I’d moved into the Green Street apartment?’
The woman thought for a moment. ‘Oh, yes, now that I think of it – a man phoned yesterday, looking to rent an apartment in the same block, and I explained that we’d just let one there. He asked if it had been let to a Laura Thornton, and I said yes. I assumed he was a friend of yours? I told him I’d let him know if another apartment becomes available …’
‘Do you remember his name?’
‘Let me check for you …’
Laura heard what sounded like a desk drawer opening and the rustling of paper, then Avril was back on the line.
‘Jeff Jones was his name.’
Inwardly, Laura was screaming. But outwardly she tried to appear calm. ‘Please – I’d be grateful if you’d let me know if he ever intends moving in here – because I’ll be moving out.’
‘Why on earth –?’
‘He’s my ex-husband, and a man I hope never to see again!’ Laura told her.
Avril was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, God – I’m so sorry! I’ll make sure he doesn’t rent anything in Green Street through us – in fact, I’ll take his name off our list this very minute. I’ll also leave a note here in the book, and explain the situation to the other agents when I see them.’
‘Thanks,’ Laura said. ‘And I’d really appreciate knowing if he contacts you again.’
Turning off her phone, Laura sat staring into space. Jeff was ruining her life! He was orchestrating a slow campaign
of terror, yet she was powerless to do anything about it. Now she’d end up leaving the apartment she already loved, since she wouldn’t even contemplate staying there if Jeff had access to the building. The idea of seeing him on a regular basis was more than she could cope with.
Laura sighed. Already Jeff had robbed her of her peace of mind, filling every moment with fear. Everywhere she looked, she saw his face – in trains, buses, on the street, in shops. She had to stop letting him be such an all-powerful force in her life. He was only one person – although she was well aware that his money could buy him extra eyes.
Resolutely, Laura decided that the only way to cope with Jeff was to adopt a different attitude. She’d be the one to change. She’d stop letting Jeff dictate how she lived her life. She’d ignore his petty behaviour, and when he got no response to his actions, he’d get tired of playing games and go away. She wasn’t going to let him drive her out of the apartment she loved. All the same, she was glad she hadn’t actually bought it yet. Hopefully, by the time that option became available, the situation with Jeff would have resolved itself, and she could make it her permanent home.
A
lan wiped his brow. He’d just stormed out of a heated meeting with his father-in-law, where he’d had to ask Dick Morgan to bail out the factory for a third time. But the old man was refusing, claiming to be worried about tying up his capital in such a precarious business venture, and having to wait too long for a return on his investment.