Behind the Lie Read online

  ‘You have their name, a briefcase, and a big, official-looking notepad to pretend to jot stuff down in if they’re interested.’

  Jowan sighed and started to bite the edge of his nail until Holly placed her hand on his. ‘I can only do my best, and the main thing is to see if I can find any evidence of a baby in there, try to get any information I can about their lives. I’m not really hoping to get them to sell their house after all, am I?’

  ‘No. Well, at least I don’t think so.’

  Jowan looked at Holly’s mischievous expression. ‘I’m glad you think this is funny, my dear.’

  ‘No, far from it. But if we get wound up into a state, then we’re on a hiding to nothing before we start.’ Jowan nodded and fiddled with his tie for the umpteenth time. ‘And it’s not lost on me that I’m over here safe in the car, while you do it all. If I could do it, I would.’

  ‘Of course you can’t. He knows you. And I’m not complaining really – just want everything to go well.’

  ‘I know.’ Holly gently removed Jowan’s hand from his tie and gave it a squeeze. ‘Remember, any sign of them being suspicious or uncomfortable, just make your excuses and leave. We don’t want them spooked. Or you in trouble, more importantly.’

  Jowan couldn’t decide if Holly was warning him to remain calm. They had talked briefly earlier about the way he’d handled Neville that day in the park and she’d let on that she’d been worried by his apparent zeal. At first he’d been affronted, but in the end admitted it had been because of his experience in the army, and he’d not been proud of his actions. He’d only gone in to prove himself to his dad. What he’d really wanted was to develop his talent for painting, but his dad had said the farm or nothing, and that he wasn’t forking out for art college. One of the reasons he’d left the army was that he’d hated the man he was becoming. Holly had pushed for more, but he wasn’t ready to share that.

  ‘Look, I’m not going to do anything rash, okay? Trust me,’ he said with a little smile.

  ‘I do trust you. Just go careful, hey?’

  Jowan nodded, took a breath, and left the car.

  One more go and then he’d have to leave. Damn it. If they didn’t answer this time he’d have to go through all this again later, or tomorrow. He’d psyched himself up for it and now it looked like there was nobody in. Jowan pressed the doorbell at the side of the imposing black door with its ostentatious brass furniture and glanced to his left and right while doing so. There was nobody on the street, or any sign of life in the immediate vicinity. It was as if he’d arrived on a deserted movie set. A deserted, Dickensian movie set, full of grand Victorian houses, sweeping marble steps and Corinthian columns. Perhaps a singing rose seller would appear shortly and Oliver would stick his head out of the top window.

  Down the street he could just make out the pale face of Holly through the windscreen, though he couldn’t see her expression. He could guess though. Much the same as his own. Jowan cocked his head and held his breath for any sign of movement within the house. No. Nothing. That was it then. He turned and began to run down the steps and then stopped in his tracks when a voice said, ‘Hello? Hello there, young man.’

  Jowan turned to see an elderly lady on the steps of next door’s property. She had on a wide-brimmed yellow hat, blue twinset and pearls, gardening gloves and carried secateurs in a wicker basket, or trug he thought they were called. In her brown, weather-lined face were two keen green eyes. Eyes that Jowan guessed didn’t miss much.

  ‘Er, hello,’ he said and tried a smile. Now what?

  ‘My goodness, aren’t you handsome?’ she said and then flapped her hand at him. ‘Sorry, don’t mind me. Can I help you at all?’

  Jowan ran back up the steps. ‘I don’t know. I was looking for Mr and Mrs Jenson.’

  ‘Yes, I guessed as much, you being at their door and all.’ A mischievous twinkle in her eyes made him relax a little. ‘You won’t find them here though. Well, you might find him here later, but not Angela. No, Angela has been at their house in Devon for…’ The woman rolled her eyes up to the right. ‘Must be nearly three months.’

  Jowan nodded and put on a concerned face. ‘Oh really? Everything okay, I hope?’

  ‘Oh yes, I think so. I think she’s still in shock about the baby. Mark says she feels more relaxed in Devon; a slower pace of life, you know? Such a lovely couple. He’s here for work, of course, but goes down there every weekend to be with his wife and son.’

  Though his heart had leapt when she’d mentioned the baby he’d managed to keep a straight face. Now he just nodded and smiled again, but said nothing. It appeared he didn’t have to. It appeared that, living next door to the Jensons, was the archetypal dotty English character from a Miss Marple episode, who had a runaway tongue. This might be his lucky day after all.

  The woman snipped the head off a drooping rose in her side garden. ‘But here’s me going on – I never introduced myself, or asked what your business is with the Jensons.’ She stuck out a gloved hand. ‘Isadora Whittle.’

  Jowan held on to her hand for longer than necessary and fixed her with what he hoped was a winning smile. ‘What a lovely name. Most unusual.’

  Isadora took the glove off, put her hand to her neck, fiddled with her pearls and did a girlish laugh. ‘Oh, do you think so? Thank you. My grandparents were great friends of the dancer Isadora Duncan, you know? When I was born, a few years after her untimely death, they begged my father to name me after her, and he always did as they asked.’

  ‘I see. Lovely. Well, my name is Ben Malton and I’m from Malton and Forbes Estate Agents. We’ve just moved into the area and…’

  ‘Now I knew a Ben once.’ Isadora pointed the secateurs at Jowan. ‘Well, a Benjamin actually; he was such a nice man, handsome like you too, but married unfortunately. Are you married?’

  ‘No, I…’

  ‘Funnily enough, Ben introduced me to my future husband. Phillip and I were married for nearly sixty-three years. Can you imagine that? No, of course you can’t; you must only be in your twenties.’ Isadora pushed back the hat from her forehead and wafted a glove in front of her face. ‘My, isn’t it a warm one?’

  ‘It is. I would love to loosen my tie, but that isn’t the done thing, is it?’ Jowan pulled a face.

  ‘Oh no. My Phillip always wore a tie even in the heatwave of 1976.’ Then Isadora leaned in to him conspiratorially. ‘But you know, sometimes my husband could be such a stuffed shirt!’ She did the girlish laugh again and Jowan laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard in ages.

  When she’d recovered, she said, ‘So, you say you’re an estate agent. I do hope the Jensons aren’t selling up. They’ve been so kind to me since Phillip died two years ago. Well, Mark has, as Phillip got him a job once; he and Mark’s father were at school together, old boys and so forth. Lived next door too – the Jensons’ house used to belong to Mark’s father.’ Anyway, that first job really kick started his career.’ Isadora stopped talking suddenly and pounced on a flurry of aphids on another rose bush.

  Jowan wondered what to do next. Let her carry on, or offer an explanation about why he was there? He needn’t have worried though because Isadora turned to him, a thoughtful look on her face.

  ‘Angela’s a different kettle of mackerel. Though polite, charming sometimes, she’s a bit more reserved really. She’s always in a rush if we meet by chance on our doorsteps; runs away when I come out, or so it seems. I had no idea she was pregnant I see her so seldom. Mind you, she was always on the plump side.’

  Jowan could understand why Angela might run away from Isadora. He did find her charming, but he imagined she’d be hard to get away from as a neighbour. Could a person be talked to death? Probably. ‘Tell me, Isadora, why was it such a shock that she had a baby?’

  ‘A shock?’ Isadora absently scratched her forearm with the point of the secateurs.

  ‘Yes. You said it was a shock for her, so she went to Devon…’
r />   ‘Oh, yes, I did. You’ll have to excuse me, Phillip; I’m getting a little forgetful nowadays. I’m nearly eighty-seven after all.’

  Jowan considered pointing out that she’d just called him Phillip and decided against it. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I have a brain like a sieve some days…’

  Isadora lifted a finger to silence him, a light in her eyes as if she’d just remembered something. ‘Yes, that was it, she had one of those unexpected pregnancies. They’d been wanting a child for years, but nothing worked. They’d had that UFO thingy-me-bob in hospital, you know, test tubes and whatnot? But it didn’t work, and then, miraculously, she finds she’s eight months gone.’

  ‘My goodness! That would be a shock, wouldn’t it?’ Jowan said, folding his arms, concentrating on Isadora’s face to assure her he was hanging on her every word.

  ‘Oh, it would. So then they go off to Harefields and she has the baby there. Well, not there exactly; in the hospital, of course. And as I said, she’s not been back since.’

  ‘Harefields?’

  ‘The name of the house they have there…’ Isadora pushed the hat back and poked a finger under the brim to give her head a good scratch. ‘Or is it Harebrook?’ She lifted her hands and dropped them again. ‘No matter, it’s Hare something anyway, in Kingsbridge; well, South Milton. Seen the stunning photos, a gorgeous house on the hill overlooking the village. Yes, South Milton; I know I have that right, because we had a house near there years ago too.’ She gave him a wistful little smile. ‘Happy days.’

  Jowan’s heart thumped in his chest. He could barely contain his excitement. Isadora had told him everything he needed to know, and with the minimum effort from him. ‘Well, I hope they come back and see you soon. I bet you’d like to see the baby?’

  ‘I would, yes, and they’ll be back. Unless they are selling?’ Isadora wrinkled her nose and put a hand on his arm. ‘Please tell me they aren’t.’

  Jowan patted her hand and explained why he’d come in the first place. ‘So you see, there’s nothing to worry about. I was just trying to gauge how many people would be thinking of moving in the area and…’

  ‘Well, the only way I’ll be moving is in a box! But I don’t intend to turn my toes up quite yet!’ Isadora gave a bark of laughter.

  Jowan joined in and then shook hands with her. ‘It has been a pleasure to meet you, Isadora. It’s nice to meet such a cheerful and lively person.’

  ‘And it’s been nice to have some handsome male company for a change; I do get lonely now Phillip has gone…’ Isadora gave him that wistful smile again. Jowan patted her arm, and as he turned to go she said, ‘And I won’t mention to Mark that you called. I don’t want him getting any bright ideas about putting this old place on the market.’

  Bloody hell, he couldn’t have asked for more than that. He grinned. ‘I don’t blame you, Isadora. Goodbye for now!’

  Jowan hurried along the street towards Holly’s car and wanted to punch the air. This plan hadn’t been pants at all; it had turned out to be brilliant. Perfectly brilliant!

  Chapter Seventeen

  I can remember the time I watched the clock, counting the minutes until Simon came home, butterflies in my chest, anticipation in my heart. I am watching the same clock now for the same reason. My feelings aren’t remotely the same though. Dread is in my heart and anger courses hot through my veins. He’s been with his woman while I have been going through hell. It was traumatic enough before today, but after Isadora’s revelations, how can I get through this evening and night without letting him see through the ‘good wife’ act?

  I load the dishwasher and let my mind wander; think through reasons other than blackmail for Jonathan doing what he did. So Jonathan gave away our son to Mark Jenson and his wife because… what? Because they were childless?

  Really?

  There has to be something more. Blackmail is the only answer, isn’t it? But whatever it is, it isn’t enough. How could it be? And who is the person who paid Yvonne if not Jonathan? If there is a God, they all will be punished for this. Hopefully in this life rather than the hereafter. I am furious enough to take matters into my own hands, but Iona needs her mother.

  I check on her now and there she is, sleeping peacefully in her cot. The illuminated mobile is casting moonbeams and stars on the ceiling and walls and I wish she’d wake up. At least then Simon can’t have me to himself; expect more than a hug and a peck on the cheek. If his mistress is any good, he won’t want more. That’s if he’s actually been with her these past few days and not just at a conference like he said. I allow myself a wry smile when I realise I am hoping my husband has been sleeping with another woman. How quickly a life can change; one false act and the whole curtain comes down.

  Still, it will only be for one night. Whether he likes it or not, I’m telling him I’m off to Cornwall again tomorrow. I won’t tell him I’m going there with my ex-boyfriend to leave Iona with Demi though. I cringe when I remember I’d considered Demi might be in it with Mark. But then, given the situation, it’s not surprising, is it? Neither will I tell Simon that, afterwards, Jowan and I will go on to Devon to try and snatch my son back. I would dearly love to be able to, just to see the look on his face. Iona murmurs in her sleep and I stroke her forehead and hope everything will be okay. Then I hear a key in the door and the heat in my blood chills.

  ‘Darling! Darling, it’s me.’

  I step quietly out of Iona’s room and hurry into the hallway. Simon is hanging up his coat and humming to himself. How dare he hum? How dear he even breathe!

  ‘Simon, at last. I was beginning to wonder if you were okay.’ I can hardly believe my voice. It’s calm. Has just the right amount of good wife-ish-ness about it and totally foreign to me.

  He glances at his watch; a slight frown puckers his brow. ‘Only twenty minutes late, sweetie. The traffic was awful as usual.’ Simon kicks off his shoes and loosens his tie. ‘So have you missed me? Come and give your man a hug.’ He opens his arms and gives me a huge smile.

  My insides churn and there’s a wave of nausea building, but I tell myself I have to go along with this charade. Ruan is depending on it. I walk into his embrace and try not to remain stiff as a board. Even give him a squeeze for good measure, ‘You had a nice conference?’ I step back and walk into the sitting room. He follows me in and pours himself a large whisky.

  ‘It was excellent. You wouldn’t believe the new bits of kit they’re developing in Germany now. I think I’ll try and convince our senior partners to invest in some.’ He takes a sip of his drink and makes himself comfortable on the sofa.

  ‘Really? What bits of kit would that be then?’ I stay where I am near the door. I feel awkward and uneasy. He has a look in his eye that I have seen before. A hungry look.

  ‘Medical kit. You wouldn’t understand.’ He stretches his hand out to me. ‘No more shop talk; come and sit next to me, my beautiful wife. It’s been a while since we’ve had some time alone.’

  Oh no, please no. ‘We aren’t alone. Iona’s here, you silly thing.’

  ‘Iona’s sleeping, I presume?’ His smile has gone. His grey eyes are cold.

  ‘Yes, but she’s probably going to wake any moment.’ I have to change his mood, get his mind away from sex. I perch on the edge of the armchair, sigh and run my fingers through my hair as if I’m fed up. ‘Oh, and don’t be angry. I know it’s bad timing, love, but I’m going to spend a few days with my mum. Said I’d be there tomorrow. She’s not well, you see; it’s her back. She fell over and…’

  ‘You’re going to Cornwall again?’ Simon knocks back the whisky, stands up, immediately pours another.

  ‘Well, yes. I wouldn’t go normally but, as I said, my mum…’

  ‘You’re never bloody here!’

  ‘Shh, you’ll wake Iona.’ I offer a placating smile. ‘And it’s you who’s just been away for three days, not me, sweetheart.’ Once again my voice could win an award, while the rest of me is beside mysel
f.

  ‘That was work. What shall I do next time, say I’m not going? Is there nobody else who can look after your mum?’

  He’s not shouting now but I can tell he’s angry. ‘No, not really. She has my Aunty Lu and friends, but Lu is away on holiday. And relying on friends – it’s not the same as family, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know, Holly. I don’t have an awful lot to do with mine. I find they get on my nerves after a few days, as you know. I’d much prefer to spend time with my own little family.’ He softens his voice. ‘With you.’

  My throat feels dry and I swallow a few times. What do I say now? Go for the reasoned approach. ‘I know you do, love. And believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to spend time with you too. But I’ve told her I’m coming and… well, I don’t see how I can get out of it.’

  Simon huffs and leans forward, elbows on knees, runs his hand through his hair. Then his head comes up and his eyes lock on mine. I’m reminded of a rattlesnake ready to strike. ‘Well, my dear Holly, I suggest we make the most of this evening then. I’ll go and run a bath, get the wine from the fridge and light a few candles.’ He moves to the kitchen door and turns, flicks those snake eyes up and down my body. ‘And this time I will not take no for an answer.’

  The nausea that has been building reaches my throat and I cover my mouth until it subsides. I have to get out of this, but how? He’s humming again and then I hear the bath water running, smell the expensive bath oil he bought me last Christmas. No. No. NO! Simon and me in the bath having sex? I can’t do it. Won’t. I would rather drown him than have his hands on my body.

  ‘Darling, can you get the wine and glasses?’ His voice floats out to me.

  No, darling. No, I can’t, because I hate you.

  Iona. I need to wake her up and then nothing can happen. ‘Yes, okay!’ I answer and then tiptoe past the bathroom to Iona’s room. At the door I depress the handle but something makes me stop just as I’m about to step inside. I can sense that he’s behind me, watching from along the corridor.