Secrets (33 page)

‘You should go and get some sleep,' Alec's father said. He sat down beside her. ‘You look all in.'

‘I couldn't sleep yet. I'm just not ready, if you know what I mean.'

‘I know what you mean. News is on, shall I turn it up?'

She nodded, willing to be distracted.

‘An explosion at a house in Northamptonshire is believed to have been caused by a gas leak,' the announcer intoned.

‘Bloody big house,' Alec's father commented. ‘Bloody big explosion. The whole gas main go up?'

‘There have been a number of dawn raids by police in three counties. It is understood that one home in London and two in the Midlands were targeted. Police say this is part of their ongoing anti-terrorist campaign. One business premises specializing in electronics was also searched. No arrests have been made.'

‘In other news—'

Naomi tuned out. She closed her eyes, wondering what was going on with Gregory.

‘At least have a nap in the chair; we'll hold the fort.'

She nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by exhaustion. Almost asleep, she did not hear her father-in-law leave, or someone else come in through the door. Gregory stood for a moment, wondering if he should wake her. Decided he should.

‘Naomi?'

She dragged her mind back to full consciousness. ‘Gregory. You're here.'

‘I won't stay long. I understand he's going to be all right.'

Naomi nodded, tears beginning to fall again. ‘I'm sorry,' she said.

‘For what? Being able to grieve is part of what makes us human.'

‘Is it? What's happening, Gregory?'

‘News, in brief,' Gregory said. ‘Clay is dead. Not quite in the way I expected him to be, but dead, nonetheless. Molly's box is at the hotel. I left it with the receptionist, she said she'd put it in your room.'

‘Is it over?'

‘Mostly. Clay is still reaching out in a way, even though he's now dead. You heard the news? Well, he's set the police on Adam Carmodie and a couple of others he had a grudge against. Adam will have some questions to answer, and so will others, but we can sort it out. A minor inconvenience.'

‘Are you sure?'

Gregory laughed. ‘Oh yes. We've got enough material to be able to blacken Clay's name, make any decision he made seem suspect. Thanks to Joseph Bern and our friend Molly. It'll all come out in the wash, as they say.'

‘I'm glad. And you?'

‘Have things to do. I'll come and say hello when you're settled again. That's if I'm welcome.'

‘You're welcome,' Naomi said. ‘Always will be.'

She heard him leave and then a nurse returning. ‘He's asking for you,' she said. ‘Here, take my arm.'

B
ob Taylor has long defied categorization.
His detractors may speak of him as a mere illustrator, or a fantasy artist, while others speak of him in the same breath as the Brotherhood of Ruralists, but Bob himself declares that he never set out to be categorized.

Figures run through the Birchwood. Men and women and wolves, chasing and playing as though involved in some bizarre game of hide and seek. For all the movement in the figures, there is a sense of the scene being frozen. A single moment, captured and held. Deliberately so. It is a Bob Taylor trademark, this quality of stillness, like a slice through time
.

Annie looked up at him. ‘Good review, Bob. Another one. You must be really pleased.'

He nodded. ‘I'm trying to be,' he said. ‘Annie, I'm just feeling a bit overwhelmed right now.'

She reached across the table. ‘I know you are,' she said. ‘But it's all right. It's all going to be fine.'

He smiled across at her. ‘You looked lovely in your posh frock,' he said. ‘There are more pictures of you than there are of me.
Wife and photographer, Annie Raven
,' he quoted.

Annie laughed. ‘Well that's my cover blown,' she said. She saw the shadow cross her husband's face, but Annie knew she couldn't let him retreat from this. He had to face it head on. If he didn't it would haunt his work and seep into his dreams and destroy the man she had fallen in love with.

‘You're alive,' she said. ‘So am I. We can figure the rest out as we go along.'

It was three weeks before Alec and Naomi travelled north again. A friend came to collect them and Sam, Naomi's sister, drove their car back. It was three weeks too, before Tariq returned to work. Tom brought him a mug of his awful tea.

‘Thought we'd seen the last of you. Glad you're back. Who'd have thought it though. Old Gustav Clay?'

Anyone who knew him, Tariq thought.

Three weeks before Carmodie electronics reopened its doors, Billie piled the stack of new catalogue requests on to Adam's desk.

‘Our little hiatus has led to a backlog,' she said. ‘It's not done us any lasting harm, that's for sure.'

‘That's good,' Adam said. ‘Billie, I've got something to ask you before we make a start. Billie, how about the two of us get married. Like we should have done back in Beirut?'

Billie grinned at him. ‘Thought you'd never ask,' she said.