All the Rage (17 page)

The woman took a deep breath. ‘She was a model pupil, diligent, caring and hard working. I taught her for three years and knew her family very well. Well, not well enough. At no time did I or my colleagues suspect anything. It has all come as a great shock to everyone. I really need to go now. '

‘One final question. Do you have any compassion for the killer given the tragic circumstances that surrounded this case? '

‘Absolutely. Many lives have been shattered. But this was a young girl, just twelve years of age, driven to murder in the most harrowing of situations. How would any of us react if we were put in the same position in which she found herself? I believe most strongly that she is the real victim. '

‘Thank you. ' Further jostling, and questions being thrown from off screen. ‘This is Ann O'Brien, reporting on the steps of the courthouse, where today a verdict of guilty was pronounced, to the shocked gasps of a packed gallery. '

The screen then went blank.

Staring at the TV for what seemed like a matter of hours, Kara eventually shook herself into action and phoned Michael on his mobile. She replayed the soundtrack for him to hear.

‘Did you understand it? ' she asked. ‘It's not the best quality. '

‘Loud and clear,' he answered. ‘Is there no reference to a name for the killer, or did I miss something? '

‘Michael, I have a gut feeling here. This tape has been doctored. There are gaps in the dialogue. '

Michael finished her thought, ‘…Meaning that the name of the killer has been deliberately edited out. '

‘That's how I see it. '

Michael thought hard. ‘Put the DVD in the safe with the newspaper cutting. Don't let anyone in my office under any circumstances. Only you and I know of their existence. '

Kara cut him short. ‘Wrong, actually. '

‘I've got your thread, but I have a plan for our reluctant go-between. Have you noticed the CCTV camera opposite the gallery which suddenly sprung up several months ago? '

‘Yeah, to monitor the traffic, right? '

‘Yes. It swivels. Now, we know that the packages have been arriving before opening. If we could arrange for the camera to somehow act on our behalf, and do a little spying…'

‘I'm on to it. ' Kara said. She was pissed off with herself for being so spooked. She was tougher than that. Enough was enough.

‘Good girl,' Michael said encouragingly. ‘In the meantime, act normally. Go about your business as if nothing has happened. '

‘Easy for you to say, being over there. '

‘Stay calm. I will be back tomorrow. ' Michael sincerely hoped she would follow this instruction.

 

***

 

For several hours, and with no particular place to go Michael meandered along the canal paths, zigzagging between the sunlit waterways and pretty squares, but without absorbing the unique beauty that surrounded him. Instead, he retreated into a world of eerie shadows and shapes that clawed at his subconscious.
At one point, he halted by a metal railing and peered over into the black watery depths below. He craved silence and solitude, but there was to be none. Above his head, a seagull shrieked and swooped, forcing him to take evasive action. From somewhere, a forgotten child cried for attention from an open balcony window. In another direction, soft guitar music reached his ears, but offered little soothing comfort.

All faded into the background as he closed his mind to the sights and sounds of this wondrous place: a place of poetry and people.

What mattered now was the inner silence which allowed him to think. This in turn brought him to an inescapable truth: that a murder in 1978 had somehow forged a link
with the people of the present day. People he knew. This thought now consumed his every move. The usual suspects. Lauren. Julius. Maggie. Antonia. He almost laughed. This was a dance with a four-headed devil. Just what was the secret they all shared?

Chapter Ten

 

At 4pm, Michael reacquainted himself with the girl from the Cantina Do Spade. She was pleasantly surprised to find him sitting at the same table as the day before. This time, he confidently beckoned for her to join him and share a bottle of vino, which he had presumptuously ordered before her arrival. She was delighted to do so.

They chatted light-heartedly, caught in the splendour of the early evening sun casting mysterious shapes across the dappled sunny buildings. For him, especially, it was enchanting being opposite this stunning woman, resplendent in a strapless powder blue dress and white sandals. Her honey-coloured skin shone with the vitality of youth. He imagined that she simply enjoyed the unexpected entertainment, an interlude of fun and gaiety. And attention was always a welcome distraction, after all. Although he had some serious questions to ask her, patience was the key. Once on the hook, he had to reel her in very gently.

 

***

 

Antonia allowed the Englishman to take centre stage, laughing at the right moment, teasing him when it was appropriate, even consoling him whenever he recounted stories which were self-effacing. She liked him, drawn to his natural charm and warmth of personality. In different circumstances, she could so easily fall for his good manners and strong jaw line. The boyish twinkle in his eye was most certainly appealing.

In different circumstances
. She almost felt cruel in the easy manner in which she controlled him: A crossover of bare-toned slender legs, a sideways glance. A finger to her lips, even. He fell into her hidden charms without a murmur of protest. It was that simple. Her power was overwhelming, if she chose to engage it. She would decline, of course. The rewards of the deception were too great to jeopardise.

‘
You
are laughing at me,' Michael announced playfully. He had been talking non-stop, caught in the light of her eyes. It had been good entertainment, she had to admit. She giggled. Then she stopped.

It was time for a reality check, mister gallery owner. Sipping white wine, she said casually, ‘We have not swapped names. '

His reaction was mock horror. ‘Goodness. I'm so sorry. What is your name? '

She dropped her gaze from his. ‘Antonia. '

He took her hand and gallantly kissed the back of it.

‘How delightful,' he said. ‘My name is…'

She raised her hand to halt him in his tracks. ‘…Michael,' she interrupted. ‘Your name is Michael Strange. '

His jaw stiffened. Eyes that had been so attentive were now vacant pools of confusion. ‘But,
how did you know
? ' he began in protest, but she spoke over him again.

‘I have been expecting you. '

 

***

 

Later, Michael found himself in her apartment. He never quite expected this situation. They were alone. Antonia explained that she had talked earlier with her parents and organised for them to take Manuella to a nearby children's party, giving them an empty home in which to talk in private and without interruption.

‘I have brought you here to see how I live, Michael. To show there is no pretence. My daughter and I live in a one-bed attic room, with small sofa, television and little cooker stove. This allows us our own space if we wish for it. Most days though, we eat in here with my parents. It is not ideal, but reality. '

This time, Antonia was different; she stood before him, arms folded, defiant.

‘I'm curious,' Michael said. ‘Who told you to expect me? '

‘That does not concern you, Michael. What does concern you is the respect I deserve and the privacy I now require. My only concern is the welfare of those I love. '

‘Does that include Julius? '

Antonia remained tight-lipped and began pacing the living room floor.

‘I can tell you only so much,' she said eventually. ‘After that, you must leave and not return. Agreed? '

He had little choice in the matter. ‘Agreed. '

‘I need to protect my family,' she continued, her deep set eyes moistening. ‘I need to live a normal life. '

Overcome by a mixture of wine and sheer tiredness, he empathised immediately with her. It was the very least she could expect from him.

For the next two hours, he listened quietly to Antonia's confession. She explained that her initial introduction to Julius was as a professional model for one of the life classes, which he held at Laburnum Farm, often in the great tithe barn in the garden. Students would come from all over the county, and beyond. They had been special days, a heady mix of serious work and serious play. After a time, she had developed an emotional and spiritual connection to both Julius and Lauren, often staying over for the weekend. Eventually, she was invited to live at the farm permanently. It was a perfect arrangement. Antonia had found a home.

Being so young and carefree, crazy parties and booze was a big thing in their life. The parties could last up to three days. On many occasions, over fifty people would clamp down, spaced out on a heady cocktail of drink and drugs and music. These were wild, wild times, she emphasised, as if in preparation to help tell what was coming next. Michael listened. An incredulous look spread over his face. His misspent youth was never like this. Clearly embarrassed by her past, she reluctantly went on with further lurid details…Was he ready for them?

Lauren and Julius were more than family to her. They were everything. During these parties, it was not uncommon for things to get out of hand. Free love, and all that. Sex was available, and Antonia was a free spirit. On one such occasion, she found herself drunk and in bed with Lauren.

‘It was a fabulous and intense relationship,' Antonia said. ‘I loved her, and she loved me. We were lovers for six months. But I was growing up, confused, and my feelings for Julius grew. It's just something that happens. '

She looked flattened, sad.

‘Take your time,' he said softly.

‘Of course, this couldn't go on. I was sleeping with them both, for Christ-sake! One night, Lauren discovered Julius and me together, and she went berserk. Jealousy and tension came between us. I felt like a puppet tossed from one to the other. I became suicidal…Do you understand what I went through, Michael? '

He nodded his head gently, but his reply was a lie. ‘I do. '

‘There was no way out, each one of them wanted to possess me. Own me. For Lauren in particular, I had become an obsession. I was trapped. '

‘But, you loved Julius, am I correct? '

‘Yes, more than life itself. We planned our escape. By this time, Lauren was threatening us. '

‘Harming you? '

‘Julius, especially,' she emphasised. ‘Once, she attacked him with a hammer. On another occasion, she used a knife. Luckily, he always managed to defend himself and disarm her. It became too intense for me. I was terrified. One day, I escaped. Julius promised to follow me, but somehow he stayed. She appeared to have a hold over him. He was almost like a prisoner, held captive by unseen chains. It was bizarre. '

‘What did you do? Where did you go? '

‘At first, I found refuge in Scotland, staying at a house near Loch Lomond, which belonged to Julius's brother. I was safe there. I waited for everything to calm down. I waited for Julius. '

‘Did he come? '

‘Yes, eventually. ' She smiled. ‘It was a big surprise. They were glorious, happy days: just the two of us. We planned a new life, away from her. That's when we decided to hide our identities. Julius had always wanted to write, and I wanted a child. We planned to run away to Venice. I knew people, had contacts. If we could disappear without trace, Lauren could not find us and hurt us. '

‘And that is what you did? '

‘Yes. I became pregnant very quickly, but I lost the baby. '

‘Manuella…is this little girl your lovechild with Julius? '

‘Yes, our prayers were finally answered. '

‘What happened to him? Why isn't he here with you? '

Antonia sobbed from the heart. Michael brought her water from the tiny kitchen whilst she somehow composed herself.

‘I'm sorry. This is so difficult. Julius had to return to confront Lauren. I begged him not to go. But there were things that had to be resolved, he told me. It concerned money. There were big issues that I never understood. I didn't care for any of that. I just wanted Julius. '

‘And he never came back? '

‘No. '

‘Why didn't you call the police? '

‘Before he left for England, he made me promise that if anything happened to him, I was not to call the police. He said the past would be raked up and he wanted to protect me. '

The silence between them was like death itself.

 

***

 

As the story unfolded still further, Michael learnt about the suffocating fear which Antonia lived under. From afar, she searched for the whereabouts of Julius through friends and family. But to no avail. In the end, she even suspected that his family wished for her to stop meddling. In her paranoid state of mind, she found herself questioning her own sanity, the betrayal of all those she trusted and the overriding sinister shadow of Lauren O'Neill. With a daughter to fight for, Antonia abandoned her search and stayed in her homeland to escape the forces beyond her control.

Michael was not entirely convinced by her story. On each turn of a stone, every person in the equation had a plausible reason for his or her individual path of action. If Julius had met an untimely death, then a police operation would surely have uncovered it. If Julius were alive, why would he deliberately choose not to see his daughter? If he were indeed alive and well and living anonymously, he would surely wish to do so in the bosom of his beloved family. Was Antonia telling the whole truth? Was this all a charade, an attempt to show him he was searching in the wrong place? It was a compelling act, if that is what it was. How could he tell? Should he trust this girl called Antonia?

He tried another avenue of enquiry, in order to make some common sense stick convincingly. His aspirations were not high, but he pushed forward cautiously in the hope of breaking new ground.

‘Antonia, I feel we've met before. '

She raised her eyebrows. ‘I don't think so! '

‘Are you familiar with the work of Patrick Porter? '

‘I am, actually. Julius and Lauren began collecting the odd piece when they had a bit of money to spare. '

‘I'm puzzled,' Michael said. ‘The collection is now considerable, and worth a substantial investment value. For instance, I once sold an original for £55,000. It was called
‘A' on green silk
, and featured a beautiful girl not unlike you, in fact. The resemblance was uncanny.'

‘Meaning? '

Michael held back from mentioning the entire twelve paintings at the farm, which also featured this same girl. This would undoubtedly spook her and give the game away if she knew that he was armed with so much incriminating evidence. He didn't want to overcook things, not at this stage anyway. As a child, his mother taught him that in cooking the best way to extract vital juices from the raw ingredients was to slow boil and then simmer. This process he adapted from the kitchen to the art of interrogation.

‘Well, did you ever model for him? '

Her eyes flickered. ‘No, Michael. I can't think why you would think that. It is purely coincidental that I remind you of this girl. '

‘Yes,' he replied. The tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. Michael had his answer. She had lied to him again, but what would her reason be to deny it so emphatically? During Antonia's earlier conversation, there was a message of sorts hidden in the reference to Lauren and her being “lovers. ” Shocked though he was by this revelation, this suddenly became important to him, but he was damned if he knew why. Like a dog with a bone, he wouldn't let it go. For the time being though, he chose to ease off: to simmer gently.

‘You have my story, Mr Strange. Will you now leave me in peace?'

Michael stood to go. ‘I'm flying home first thing in the morning,' he said by way of reply, giving her the reassurance that she sought. In spite of the trust being broken, he decided to believe her story, for the moment at least. Besides, as a mother she was entitled to wish for a world without fear and harm. Above all, she was free to find happiness and fulfilment, on her own or with another. It was not his right to judge. This girl, this room, this life, was real.

Or so he thought. Then something caught his eye.

‘Do you paint? ' he asked casually, embracing her fondly before his departure.

‘Like Julius? No. ' She pulled away from him. Facing her, he stared intently into her eyes. Eventually, she said, ‘I can draw competently, but actual painting is a different discipline. My daughter could do a better job! No, music is my talent. I occasionally play the viola. '