Deception and Desire (67 page)

Ironic, really, that all this mayhem should have blown up just when she was away trying to sort things out with as little fuss as possible. Now she must do her best to make amends for a situation she could not help feeling had been of her making. For after all, if it had not been for her Steve would probably never have been exposed as an imposter. He was a liar and a cheat, possibly worse, and knowing what she had known there was no way she could stand idly by and let the situation continue. But if she hadn't known, if she hadn't been at Van's apartment that day and seen the real son, would it have mattered so much? For Dinah, presumably, ignorance had been bliss, and now that had been shattered in a way that could hardly have been more shocking.

Ros got out of the car, heels scrunching on the gravel. Mrs Brunt opened the door when she rang the bell.

‘Ros, isn't it?' she said, peering out into the darkness. ‘I thought you'd been away.'

‘I have but I'm here now and I want to see Dinah.'

‘She's with Mr Kennedy – in there.' She gesticulated towards the library. ‘ She's been in a terrible way, but I think he's calming her down.'

Ros tapped at the door and opened it. Don and Dinah were standing by the window and he was holding her in his arms. As the door opened he looked up, flushing slightly, but not letting go of her, then registered utter surprise as he saw who it was that had come in.

‘Ros! What are you doing here? And where have you been?'

Dinah lifted her face from Don's shoulder. Ros could see she had been crying.

‘Ros! Oh Ros, I'm sorry … but you have no idea of the terrible things that have been happening here …'

‘Is this intrusion absolutely necessary, Ros?' Don asked curtly.

Ros ignored him.

‘Dinah, I have something to tell you,' she said gently. ‘ I know what's happened here and I know you have had a terrible shock. But it's not quite what you think. Steve took the identity of your real son because he believed that he had been killed in a diving accident in South America. That was the story that got back to this country. But it had got a little distorted. There was an accident, and a man was killed. But it was not your son who died. It was his partner, the other diver in his team. Your son is alive and well and working on a rig off the coast of Argentina. That's where I've been this last week. I managed to trace him. And he has promised me that if you want to see him he will come back to England as soon as his contract is completed.'

Dinah's hands flew to her mouth.

‘You're just saying that! I don't believe it! It can't be true!'

‘It is true, Dinah. He is the reason I have been away from the office. I'm sorry about that – it was all a little beyond my control. Look – I know you must feel terribly betrayed and perhaps after this experience you won't want to see him but …'

‘Not see him? Not see my son? Don't be silly! Oh, Ros, what is he like?'

Ros smiled. In spite of everything it was impossible not to smile. She found herself remembering with pleasure the man she had met in Argentina – the man who was really Dinah's son. She had liked him instantly and during the long conversations they had shared she had come to like him more and more. Perhaps more than just liking, she thought, allowing herself an echo of the warmth and attraction that had sparked between them. She had felt then that Mac was someone very special and she felt it again now, a teasing excitement deep inside. There had not been the time or the opportunity on her brief visit to discover whether that attraction could blossom into something deeper, but she had found herself hoping that the chance might yet present itself. Brendan had been her first love, wild and destructive, Van had been something of an obsession – what was it about Van that had been so compelling to women? – and with Mike she had found a relationship she had thought she could live with but which had never really sparked her on a deeply emotional level. Mac had reawakened emotions she had almost forgotten and certainly not sought, given her past experiences. But he also had about him the kind of strength that made her feel she could trust him and perhaps let down the defences she had erected and truly love again. It was a good feeling.

‘He's not a bit like Steve,' she said now to Dinah. ‘ He is much quieter but also a great deal more genuine.'

‘Oh. I see.' Dinah stood thinking, hands pressed against her mouth. Then: ‘What colour are his eyes?' she asked.

‘His eyes?' Ros was startled. ‘Brown, I think.'

‘Brown. Yes, brown.' They both looked at her, puzzled, but it was obvious she was seeing, remembering something which they could not.

Don took her hand. ‘I'm very glad about this, Dinah, but I will tell you here and now that I shall not stand on the sidelines again whilst someone else takes you for a ride. I've done that for too long.'

He glanced at Ros and something in the look told her he knew, had always known about her and Van. She shifted impatiently.

‘I wanted to tell you immediately about your son, Dinah, but maybe it would be best if the details waited for the morning.'

But Dinah shook her head, tremulous joy shining through what had been her tears.

‘Oh no, Ros, please! I want to know all about it right now!'

Ros sighed. She rather thought it was going to be a long night.

‘I have been thinking, darling,' Jayne said to Drew, ‘I am going to leave Vandina and work for Reubens full time. If they'll have me.'

‘If they'll have you! You know damned well how much they wanted you!' Drew stretched back lazily on his leather lounger, puffing casually on a reefer.

Jayne smiled. Drew was in total ignorance about the role she had been playing; that had all been ironed out between his father and herself, and she had not considered it wise to allow Drew in on the plan. When he had had too much to drink he was all too likely to let something slip which could have ruined everything.

‘You'll do well at Reubens,' he said now. ‘ You won't be in the shadow of that damned woman.'

‘True.'

And it was, she thought. Stealing ideas from someone else meant only a poverty of inspiration in the person doing the stealing. Jayne had begun to believe she was worth more than that. And besides, she never wanted to see Steve again as long as she lived.

When he had left this afternoon it had taken an hour before she had stopped shaking. All very well to have given the impression of being totally in control; Jayne was nothing if not an actress and she had given the performance of her life.

I have played with fire a good many times, Jayne thought, but never have I been closer to being incinerated! The flippancy of the sentiment did nothing to detract from the seriousness of the situation. Steve was prepared to go to any lengths to keep his secret and she had alerted him to the fact that she knew what it was. This time she had been lucky, this time she had talked her way out of danger, but she was not sure how long her luck would hold. Sooner or later Steve would decide he could not take the chance that she might spill the beans, and Jayne did not think that then he would give her any warning. She did not want to be around to suffer the consequences – and quite honestly there was no reason why she should be. Time to leave Vandina, time to go to Reubens not only with the tips and ideas she had picked up from Vandina but also with her own raw talent.

Jayne had given herself the afternoon off to give herself a chance to recover from her fright, but she had not wasted it. When the trembling had eventually stopped she had begun to plan – and now she put her plans to Drew.

‘So you agree with me then?'

‘I certainly do, babe. We've been here long enough – I'm ready to move on.'

She felt a small shadow of dismay. Would Drew ever settle anywhere? But that was a problem for the future and she would face it when the time came.

‘It's lucky this place is only rented,' she said. ‘I'll speak to the agents in the morning and get the contract terminated. Then I'll take a couple of days' holiday that's due to me and we'll go and look for something suitable in the right area for Reubens. Agreed?'

‘Agreed.'

She smiled. The nerves had almost completely gone now, the supreme confidence returning.

‘We make a pretty good team, Drew, you and I. Unconventional but very well matched.'

And he puffed his reefer and smiled lazily back at her.

Steve was on the motorway, heading north but without any really clear idea yet of where he was going to go and what he was going to do.

What a fiasco! he thought. What a waste of the most perfect setup he was ever likely to find! But it was useless to waste time crying now over what could not be altered. He'd given it his best shot and it had all fallen apart. The only thing he could do now was get the hell out of it and start again somewhere.

When the press had arrived at the cottage and Maggie had made a run for it he had made a run too, realising that to stay would be to invite certain arrest. He had driven at speed to Luscombe Manor, packed what he could of his belongings and any small items of value that he could lay his hands on – some pieces of Dinah's jewellery, Van's gold watch and an antique hip flask, some original miniatures and a few other easily portable pieces which Dinah had told him had been highly valued. He did not suppose she would readily miss any of it and if she did he could not imagine her accusing him of stealing them. In fact he rather thought Dinah would refuse to believe any of the stories about him, so confident was he of the hold he had over her. But it was no use relying on that now. He had to get out of it and lie low for a few days while he decided what to do next. Something would come up. And at least he now knew he had a way with him that would serve him well as a con man. Perhaps that was the way his mind should be running. But whatever he did it had to be big. He had tasted a way of life he liked. He had no intention of settling for less.

Steve positioned his car in the fast lane and put his foot down. Best to put as much distance as he could between himself and Somerset before he looked for somewhere to put up for the night. The cars ahead of him on the motorway mutated from glowing red tail lights to indistinct blurs to recognisable shapes as he sped past them; the headlights of traffic on the southbound carriageway rushed past him in a never-ending series of bright flares.

He became aware of the flashing blue light as something alien in this pattern, and glancing in his rear-view mirror saw it bearing down on him from behind. Too late he realised he should have stayed in the slow lane and done nothing to draw attention to himself. They might only be after him for exceeding the speed limit now, but if they caught him they would very soon realise – if his description had been circulated – that he was a wanted man. His car was distinctive – he was distinctive.

Oh shit! Steve thought. He put his foot flat to the boards and the car surged forward. Faster, faster, as fast as he could go, with the needle creeping up and the lights zooming past at such a rate that they almost made him dizzy. But still the police car was there on his tail.

Steve's mind was racing almost as fast as the car and he found himself remembering another chase, years ago and thousands of miles away. The car that was on his tail would be in radio contact with their headquarters, they would be asking for assistance, maybe setting up a roadblock. His only chance was to get off the motorway. He kept his foot down until he saw the signs for the next exit, screamed past the traffic in the centre lane and swerved left. The exit lane came up to meet him, too fast. He braked hard and felt the car getting away from him. For timeless seconds he fought with the steering wheel but he was skidding sideways. The front end of the car ran off the road and suddenly the world was turning topsy-turvy, over and over, the lights making crazy patterns in his head, his ears resounding to the sounds of tortured metal and splintering glass. The car came to rest on its roof. For a moment Steve was too stunned for thought, then desperately he tried to free himself. Useless. Almost unhurt but effectively trapped upside down by his seat belt Steve could do nothing but struggle helplessly and watch the blue flashing lights of the police car draw up alongside him, portents of a fate he could no longer escape.

Maggie sat on the low wall at the edge of the ocean, watching the sun dip into the darkening water. On the horizon sea merged with sky in a faint blue haze which marked the coast of Albania, and the peace was broken only by the distant barking of a dog and the first mournful cry of a skops owl in an olive grove above the house.

Peace, perfect peace – the end of yet another Corfu day. If only she could take just a small measure of that peace into her heart. But she could not. She had come home and everything was the same as it had always been yet also subtly different. And the difference put a turmoil where once there had been acceptance, and the sameness made the future stretching ahead of her almost unbearable.

She had left England the day after Ros's reappearance. Ros had begged her to stay a while longer but she had refused. She didn't want to have to face Mike again, didn't want to have to be strong for a moment longer than was absolutely necessary. She had booked a flight and left without seeing him again and the leaving had been a pain inside her that was both sharp and also heavy and dull with hopelessness.

She had thought that perhaps once she was back in Corfu the memory of the way she had felt with Mike would dull a little, blur around the edges until it could be assimilated into everyday life as nothing but a sweet ache for what might have been. Perhaps she would be able to transfer some of the energy she had felt in England into making her marriage to Ari work. She had to make it work!

– the commitment was there just as it had always been and in it was her future. But the reality had not been easy.

‘So, you have decided to come home then,' Ari had said, cool and sarcastic. ‘What have I done to deserve this?'