Authors: Linda Kavanagh
Darren explained how he and the concierge had struggled to pull Laura and Kerry apart, and that Kerry had stepped backwards and tumbled headfirst down the stairs, breaking her neck as she hit the floor below.
Yet despite what Kerry had done, Laura didn’t want her late friend’s name to be vilified. And she was relieved when Darren
confirmed that the newspapers were unlikely to find any kind of worthwhile story in what had happened.
‘Although it’s tragic, it’s better for your sake that things ended this way,’ he whispered. ‘If Kerry had lived, your former friend would have been put on trial, and your whole life and hers would have been sifted through by both police and press – I don’t think you’d have wanted that.’
Laura nodded. Although still a little woozy, she did her best to fill him in on Kerry’s secret vendetta, and how the death of her parents hadn’t been an accident after all.
It was also beginning to dawn on her that Darren’s presence in the apartment was both unexpected and out of context, and Laura looked at him quizzically. ‘But how did you happen to be there? How did you know where I was?’
Darren smiled as the ambulance pulled into the hospital grounds. ‘It’s a long story – let’s wait until you’re home again.’
Laura nodded, suddenly wondering where home actually was.
As though he’d read her mind, Darren took her hand in his. ‘Come and stay at my place when you’re discharged,’ he said softly. ‘I promise to take good care of you.’
As she lay alone in her private room, Laura recalled the last time she’d been in hospital, and how her miscarriage had been the catalyst that had ended her marriage. Now, in the space of just a few months, so many of the people she’d once loved were gone – her baby, Jeff and, finally, Kerry.
And, of course, there was the loss of her parents and brother all those years ago. Since that fateful day when she was almost twelve, there had never been a day when she didn’t desperately miss them, or feel remorse for her part in their deaths. Now, in the light of Kerry’s confession, she was free of the crippling weight of guilt that she’d carried with her since childhood.
Knowing it wasn’t her fault meant that her loss was no longer coupled with self-reproach. Her parents and brother had finally become real to her again, not simply reminders of her guilt. It was as though Kerry had given them back to her, releasing her from the pall of sorrow that had defined her relationship with them since they died.
On the other hand, she was now sadly aware that all hadn’t been ideal in her parents’ marriage. Would her father have left her mother for Ellie? It seemed unlikely, since he hadn’t done so during all the years they’d been lovers. Had her mother known about the affair and tolerated it, or had she been totally unaware?
Laura sighed. There was little point in dwelling on what might, or might not, have happened. All the protagonists were now frozen in time, their earthly relationships over. It was all out of her control, and she had to learn to let go.
Wiping away a tear, Laura thought about dear, mischievous Pete who, because of Kerry’s jealousy, had been denied the chance to grow up. For eternity, he would always be fourteen. She remembered Kerry with mixed emotions – her father’s death would have been devastating for her, too. And Ellie would have had to hide her own pain in order to keep Kerry from guessing about her relationship with Alan. Of course Kerry had known already, and this must have added to the young girl’s distress.
Laura sighed. How Kerry must have smouldered with resentment – all her plans had gone awry, her father accidentally dead by her own hand, so her private grief would have been overwhelming.
Laura pulled herself up in the bed. Despite all that had happened, she didn’t want to hate anyone. When people were at the mercy of their emotions, reason flew out of the window. Nor could she blame people for falling in love with the wrong
person – she’d been the victim of an unwise and unsuitable relationship herself. How had she ever thought that Jeff was the man for her?
She had also been told that since she and Jeff had never got round to divorcing – and he’d never been formally charged with drug offences – his flat and all his possessions would eventually revert to her. Since she wanted nothing to do with them, she decided to have everything sold and the money given to charity. It seemed only fair that it should go to a charity aimed at helping the people whose lives Jeff’s business had destroyed.
Laura looked at the clock. It was almost visiting time, and Darren would be in to see her shortly. As she thought of him, a warm feeling pervaded her entire body. Darren was someone with whom she could always be herself. He’d never wanted to change her, unlike Jeff. Darren had also been the one who’d made all the arrangements for Kerry’s upcoming funeral. He’d been a tower of strength since Kerry’s death, visiting Laura each day since she’d been admitted.
With a regular parade of doctors, nurses and visitors popping in all the time, Laura still hadn’t managed to discover exactly what had happened in the Green Street apartment, and how Darren had managed to be there exactly when she’d needed him. He’d smiled shyly when she’d expressed her frustration at not knowing the details, urging her to wait until she was discharged from hospital. Then, he’d promised, he’d tell her everything. The doctors had opted to keep her under observation for an extra ten days, but now they’d decided that all was well and she was free to leave hospital the following day.
‘Hello, Laura – how are you feeling?’
Darren had suddenly appeared at her bedside, and Laura’s
heart did a tiny somersault. He smiled at her warmly and sat down on the bed, leaning forwards to kiss her cheek.
‘I’m much better, thanks,’ she told him. ‘They’re letting me out in time for Kerry’s funeral tomorrow. But I’m dreading it.’
Darren squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said softly. ‘I’ll be there beside you.’
A
s the graveside service ended, Laura, supported by Darren, began moving away from Kerry’s grave. She’d gone through all the motions, sprinkling earth onto her erstwhile friend’s coffin and behaving as though they’d been close right up until the end. Laura felt a fraud when Norma, Jack and Kerry’s other colleagues from Sea Diagnostics approached her, offering their shocked condolences at the accidental death of her dear friend. Nevertheless, she was genuinely heartbroken – despite what Kerry had done to her family, she’d been a major influence in her life.
Just as she stepped from the grass onto the pathway, an elderly man, leaning on a walking stick, approached Laura and extended his hand.
‘Ms Thornton? My name is Tony Coleman. I used to be the factory manager when your father was alive.’
Laura smiled. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Coleman,’ she said, wondering why he’d bothered to seek her out, and why he was attending Kerry’s funeral. Perhaps he was saying hello for old time’s sake. Or was he lonely and simply wanted to talk to someone?
As Darren stepped back and made way for him, the older man fell into step with Laura as she began following the other mourners through the graveyard and out towards the main gate.
‘I was a friend of Kerry’s mother,’ he told her, glancing quickly at her. ‘She was a lovely woman.’
Laura nodded in agreement.
He hesitated. ‘I’m glad she didn’t know what happened to her daughter,’ he said, his expression bleak. ‘It’s tragic when someone dies so young, isn’t it?’
Laura nodded, still posing as Kerry’s friend. Darren was right – it seemed pointless for anyone else to know the truth.
Suddenly, Tony Coleman stopped walking and gripped her arm as his eyes stared unflinchingly into hers. ‘Did your friend Kerry ever tell you who her father was?’
Laura gave an involuntary shiver. Surely this old man couldn’t know about her father’s affair? And if so, why would he bring it up now? She shook her head, preparing herself for the worst.
‘Well, Ellie and I …’ The old man looked embarrassed. ‘We once had what – ahem – I think you young people call a one-night stand. And exactly nine months later, Kerry was born.’ His lugubrious face softened as he reached into his jacket pocket, extracted his wallet and took out a picture. ‘This is my mother,’ he said, handing it to Laura.
She gasped when she saw it. Kerry was the spitting image of the woman in the photograph!
The old man seemed pleased by her reaction. ‘Kerry was like her, wasn’t she?’
Laura nodded, her eyes filling with tears as she handed back the photograph. She felt overwhelmed by sadness. Poor, disillusioned Kerry – because of a chance remark all those years ago, she’d let her resentment grow out of all proportion. Now it seemed certain that there had never been any basis in fact for her lifelong resentment. Or for the destruction she’d wrought on Laura and her family.
Tony Coleman smiled at her wistfully. ‘Your mother approached
me at the staff Christmas party the year Kerry was born, making veiled references about my “responsibilities” to Ellie. The penny didn’t drop until weeks later, when I realised that Sylvia thought or maybe even knew, that Ellie’s child was mine. I tried asking Ellie, but she always cut me off, and made it clear that she didn’t want me having anything to do with the child.’ Momentarily, he looked embarrassed. ‘So I used to watch Kerry when she was small – I’d sometimes hide in the bushes at Treetops and watch her play. Even after she’d grown up, I’d still follow her from time to time. I liked to see where she was going and what she was doing. It confirmed for me, as I noted her mannerisms and discovered the things she was interested in, that she was definitely my daughter.’ He grimaced. ‘It was silly of me, I know, but I got her mobile number through her office, and I’d taken to phoning her recently, just to hear her voice.’ He looked sheepish. ‘Of course, I stopped doing that when it dawned on me that by not saying anything, I might be frightening her.’
He paused. ‘After Ellie died, I thought that Kerry might be pleased to know that she still had a parent. But although I was still checking on her from time to time, I could never pluck up the courage to speak to her. A few weeks ago, I finally decided that I had to tell her the truth, so I waited outside her office one evening. But I bungled it and she ran away. Clearly, I’d frightened her, so I left her alone after that.’ He gestured ruefully to the walking stick. ‘I tripped and fell, and broke my leg rather badly. It hasn’t really healed, so it’s become a constant reminder of that last time I saw her.’ His eyes filled with unshed tears. ‘Now, of course, I wish I’d made more of an effort to contact her.’
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ Laura told the old man.
Nodding, he accepted her condolences, shook her hand
again and turned back the way they’d just come. Turning to watch him, Laura saw him hobbling slowly down the avenue again. Then he stepped off the pathway, kneeling with difficulty in front of his daughter’s grave.
‘A
re you okay?’ Darren asked, as he helped Laura out of the taxi that had taken them back to his flat.
She nodded, unable to speak. She was exhausted, but relieved that the funeral was over at last. She’d never forget Kerry, her one-time friend, or the extraordinary circumstances that had led to the build-up of so much hatred. But it wouldn’t rule her life any longer.
As Darren paid the taxi driver and opened the door into the apartment block, Laura smiled her thanks. It was nice to be able to rely on someone to do all the day-to-day things that needed doing because, right then, all she wanted to do was rest.
In Darren’s large but cosy apartment, Laura sank down onto one of the sofas gratefully. There had been little opportunity to talk while she’d been in the hospital. But now, at last, she was longing to fully understand what had transpired that fateful day in the Green Street apartment, and how Darren had materialised just when she needed him most.
Having made a pot of coffee and brought it to the coffee table, Darren sat down beside her and poured the hot liquid into two mugs.
‘Now, you’d better tell me everything,’ Laura said.
Darren smiled. ‘It’s a long story, but I’ll try to condense it as best I can. After you’d gone to Dorrington, I asked Bill
to keep an eye on you, although I didn’t tell him why. I was worried in case your ex found out where you were and started hassling you again. Then some police officer rang me, trying to find out where you’d gone. I refused to tell him, but the call got me worried. Why would the police be looking for you? So I decided to pay a quick visit to Dorrington, just to make sure that you were okay. I wondered if I’d done you a favour by telling you about the job there, or if I’d just made you more vulnerable. I decided to see who, if anyone, was tailing you – just anyone who might be hanging around you more often than they should be.’
Laura tightened her grip on his hand, her coffee forgotten.
‘But all seemed fine when I got there,’ Darren confirmed. ‘I discovered that your friend Kerry was staying at the same hotel as I was, but I deliberately kept out of her way, since I wouldn’t have wanted you to hear that I’d been in Dorrington without bothering to say hello. I found it odd that she wasn’t staying with you, but I assumed your new accommodation wasn’t big enough for guests. Then I saw her collect a hire car outside the hotel one day, and I surmised that the two of you were going off sightseeing. I was pleased for you – how wrong could I be! After that, I went back to London.’
‘All I saw of that car was the bonnet heading towards me!’ Laura said wryly.
Darren gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze. ‘Later, I decided to pay a second visit to Dorrington. That was when you spotted me!’
‘I was really upset when you didn’t want to speak to me – I thought I must have done something to offend you,’ Laura said accusingly.
Darren smiled. ‘You could never offend me, Laura. But how could I explain to you what I was doing there? I’d have been embarrassed to let you know I was checking up on you.’ Darren
smiled, keeping a tight grip on her hand. ‘When you finally told Bill about the incident with the car, and the man who was following you, he rang me straight away. Then I remembered Kerry hiring the car. That was when I realised you could be in real danger.’