Creeping Ivy (36 page)
All in all she’d managed pretty well, in spite of this latest hitch. There’d been some quite hairy moments, though, like the day when bloody Trish had brought her lie-detecting bimbo in to prove that Nicky’s story about the playground was true. That had been a real pain, and typical of bloody Trish’s inability to let anyone else get on with their lives without telling them how to do it better.
And then the police had found out about Mike’s past and raided his gym for drugs and started cross-questioning him. Luckily he’d told her the truth when he swore he was clean, and he hadn’t betrayed her when they interviewed him, but it had given her a sweaty few days.
He’d always been going to be the weak link, but even he had held. She’d chosen well with him, too. Luckily.
Antonia laughed and took a bigger mouthful of wine. God! It was good. A particularly luscious year. She was already feeling better.
As it happened, Mike had been an unnecessary elaboration. If she’d realised how easily that treacherous little slut Nicky Bagshot could be distracted from her job, there wouldn’t have been any need to risk using Mike. Luckily he wasn’t bright enough to realise what had been going on under his nose. When she’d paid him off he still seemed convinced that all she’d wanted him to do was drive home to Nicky that she was being watched all the time and that she must behave herself.
It hadn’t been all that hard to persuade Mike to keep his mouth shut, when he said he thought he ought to tell the police he’d been there in the playground in case there was anything he could tell them that might help them find Charlotte. Antonia had only had to point out that with his record and his sexual proclivities, the last thing he ought to risk was being known to be in the area where a child had been kidnapped. Antonia laughed again as she remembered kindly promising not to tell anyone of Mike’s presence. He’d been pathetically grateful and even offered to give her back the money she’d paid him.
‘Sue and Sammy’ – God, that sounded like a pair of performing seals at the circus – had been something of a risk, too, but it had been a calculated one and it, too, had paid off. They had done everything they’d promised and Charlotte had been happy enough with them. They swore she’d made no protest when they told her that her mother was waiting for her on the other side of the park and she’d gone with them as cheerfully as anyone could have wished. She had cried, they said, when she discovered that there was no sign of Antonia, but it hadn’t taken her too long to cheer up and they had taken her straight to the cottage Antonia’d already checked and approved, and they’d given her a marvellous holiday.
There were no real worries about that. Charlotte
had
had a good time. It had been easy to see that the police were puzzled by everything she’d told their tactful interviewers about the videos she had been allowed to see and the toys she’d played with and all the burgers and chips she’d been allowed to eat. But there’d been no real danger. ‘Sue and Sammy’ were far too professional to risk betraying themselves.
And they were definitely safe. No risk of blackmail there. They had too much to lose and they knew she’d left no evidence that would implicate her if they did try to tell their story. They’d been well paid, too, and gone back to the States for good. That was that.
In fact, the only aspect of the whole thing that did cause Antonia a slight pang was the twenty minutes Charlotte had spent ‘lost’ in the park on her way back. Antonia had thought round and round the problem of getting her safely back without it, but there hadn’t been an alternative. And it had been only twenty minutes. It couldn’t have done her that much harm. Not twenty minutes.
In any case, it was her tears and terror when they found her, more than almost anything else, that had stopped the police from developing any dangerous suspicions. They were convinced that Antonia had paid a ransom for Charlotte, just as she’d meant them to be.
Shuffling the money around off-shore accounts had been child’s play in comparison with making sure Charlotte was all right, and there’d been a nice trail for the police to follow as far as the Caymans, before it had petered out. ‘Sue and Sammy’ had been paid their whack out of it, and the rest was in trust for Charlotte when she left university. It would be a nice little nest egg for her then.
No, taken all in all, the operation had gone off reasonably well. She would get Charlotte to herself in the end. Ben and his American bitch would learn that they had no right to interfere, just as Robert had had to learn, and Nicky.
It was extraordinary what devotion that little slut had managed to arouse in so many people. Quite apart from Robert, there was Trish, who should’ve known better, and the unknown Renie Brooks. Antonia could still remember the two letters she’d written, showing far more trust and affection than Nicky deserved. It was that affection, not the cruelty of the anonymous filth, that had made Antonia tell everyone she was burning the letters without reading them. She couldn’t risk Nicky somehow getting to know of the one Renie Brooks had written to her. She didn’t deserve it. And she wasn’t going to have it.
Dear Mrs Weblock
, [Renie had written]
I’m ever so sorry about your daughter. I wish I could help you. I’m sure it’s not Nicolette who’s done it. I fostered her, you know, for quite a while. She was always a good child and kind with it. I’m sure she’s not done what they say in the papers. I don’t have your proper address, but I hope the post office will find a way to get this to you. And I hope your little Charlotte will be safe. I’m praying for that. I’m sure it’s not Nicolette that’s done anything. She was a good child. I always loved her.
Yours faithfully,
Renie Brooks.
It seemed the bitterest irony that a lazy, conniving little slut like Nicky should’ve had such care and devotion when Antonia’s experience had been so different.
There were still times when she could feel echoes of the old terror, even after all these years. She could hear that terrible voice even now and feel the pain. She put down her glass so that she could stroke the ache away.
The marks round her arms had always been hidden by the sleeves of her dresses and she hadn’t dared tell anyone about them or how they’d got there. Her mother would have seen them and stopped it happening, but she’d gone away to be ill. She’d gone away to hospital. And that woman had come to turn Antonia’s life into hell.
‘Do as you’re told. You know what’ll happen if you don’t do as I say.’
She had known. And she had suffered. But it had stopped in the end.
Antonia could see herself, a thin little fair-haired child with bright eyes and a face that felt as hard and cold as glass, on the day that woman had left the house for the last time.
It wasn’t relief she’d felt then, or even happiness: it was triumph. She’d known from that moment on that she’d always be able to win if she could just be strong enough and hang on long enough. She’d stood there in the cold wind with her hands balled into fists and her teeth clenched, swearing in her mind that no one else would hurt her and not be punished. No one. Ever.
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First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 1998
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Author’s Note
All the characters, organisations, police stations, companies and partnerships mentioned in this novel are figments of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any in the real world. Only ‘Daisy’ is drawn from life.
The usual suspects have provided their customary help, support and advice. I should like to thank them all, in particular: Mary Carter, Gillian Holmes, Clare Ledingham, and James Turner.
