The Real Katie Lavender (45 page)

Lloyd deliberately parked a few houses down from Katie’s, suspecting that if she saw his car and knew it was him, she might not answer the door.

The rain pelting down on him, he walked the short distance and rang the bell.

There was no answer.

He rang the bell again.

And again.

He hated the idea that she was inside the house hiding from him. And she had to be here; her car was right there on the road behind him in the deserted street. The sight of her Mini Cooper lessened his anxiety. It meant she was all right; she hadn’t had an accident in it.

He bent down and pushed open the letter box, half hoping, half fearing that he might see her sitting at the bottom of the stairs looking back at him.

There was no sign of her.

‘Katie,’ he called out, straining to make himself heard, but not wanting to arouse attention from the neighbours. ‘Katie, it’s me, Lloyd. Please let me in.’ He risked raising his voice. ‘I just want to talk. I want to know what I did wrong.’

Nothing.

‘I’ll tell you what you’re doing wrong, mate,’ said a voice to his right.

He stood up straight and saw an elderly man in his pyjamas and dressing gown leaning out from the doorway of the adjoining house. ‘You’re disturbing the peace, that’s what you’re doing.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lloyd said, wiping the rain from his face. ‘I’m worried about Katie.’

The man looked suspiciously at him. ‘Why’s that, then?’

‘I can’t get hold of her.’

‘Maybe she doesn’t want you to.’

‘Do you know if she’s OK?’

‘She looked right enough last night when I saw her.’

‘Did you speak to her?’

‘What’s it to you?’

‘I’m her boyfriend.’

‘Doesn’t sound much like you are. If you were, you’d know how she was.’

‘Something happened yesterday,’ Lloyd said patiently, wishing he could take the old man by his scrawny neck and wring whatever truth out of him he was trying to withhold. ‘She was staying with me and then suddenly disappeared. All I want to know is that she’s OK. I’m worried.’

The old man tugged on the belt of his dressing gown. ‘Like I said, she looked fine to me last night when I saw her passing my window.’

‘Did she come back?’

‘Look, I’m not one of those nosy neighbours always peering out of my window. I’ve got better things to do with my time. I didn’t see her come back, but that’s not to say she didn’t. She did have a bag with her. I remember that.’

‘An overnight bag?’

‘Could’ve been. Mind you, could’ve been an ordinary handbag for all I know; some of the handbags girls lug round with them these days are the size of coal sacks. God knows what they find to put in them.’

‘Thank you for your help,’ Lloyd said, keen to cut the old man off. ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’

He set off quickly down the street to where he’d left his car. If Katie had gone somewhere with her overnight bag, there was a strong chance it was either to London to see Tess or to Zac here in Brighton.

But the old man wasn’t finished with him. ‘If I hear she’s come to any harm, fella,’ he called out, ‘I’ll remember your phizog. I’ll be able to give the police a full description. Just you remember that!’

Lloyd put his hand in the air and gave him a cheery no problem-with-that wave.

When he reached his car, he did a quick rethink and put his keys back in his pocket. Katie had shown him Zac’s salon when they’d gone out for lunch during his stay with her. All he had to do was remember the way. It shouldn’t be too difficult; it was in the North Laines, the trendy boho part of town. If he got lost, he could ask for directions. His hopes raised, he followed his nose, on foot, looking out for familiar landmarks.

Within no time, he saw the salon. It was closed. It would be, it was Sunday. Lloyd wasn’t deterred. Katie had said that Zac lived above the salon; she’d talked about how he’d converted the office space above into an amazing apartment.

The rain still pouring down, Lloyd stared at the windows above the salon, then looked to the left of the shopfront, where there was a door. A firmly shut door. There were three bells, each with a nameplate and an intercom. His hopes raised yet further, he pressed the buzzer alongside Zac’s name. He didn’t really think Katie would be here – why stay the night with Zac, when her own place was within walking distance? But Zac, he was sure, would help. He would find a way to get Katie to talk to him.

‘You won’t get any joy there, he’s not in. He’s gone out for some milk.’

Startled, Lloyd spun round. ‘Zac!’

From beneath a large black and white leopardprint umbrella, Zac grinned. ‘I thought it was you. I’d know those strapping shoulders anywhere. What brings you here? Katie not with you?’

Upstairs, and while he towelled himself dry, Lloyd told Zac everything. What little there was to tell.

‘And you swear that’s what really happened?’ Zac asked when he’d finished. ‘You didn’t have a big bust-up argument? You didn’t hurt Katie in any way?’

‘Why would I do that, Zac? I’m crazy about her.’

‘Yes, but crazy can lead to all sorts of things. Sugar in your coffee?’

‘Just milk. And I swear, I’m not keeping anything from you. She went out to see Stirling. I went to my workshop, and when I came back she, and all her things, was gone. There was no note. Nothing. And she hasn’t replied to any of my calls or messages. She’s ignoring me.’

Zac frowned. ‘So something must have happened between her and her biological father.’

‘That’s the conclusion I’ve reached.’

‘What does he say? I presume you’ve spoken to him?’

‘No. I can’t get a response from his mobile. And for all sorts of reasons, I don’t want to ring the house.’

Zac handed him a cup of coffee, which he’d made with a state-of-the-art machine that would not have looked out of place in a Starbucks. But then everything in Zac’s loft-style apartment looked state-of-the-art, from the Alessi kitchen gadgets to the stunning black-and-white photographs on the whitewashed walls.

‘Waffle?’

‘Sorry?’

Zac smiled. ‘I was going to make waffles for my breakfast. Do you want one?’

‘I’m not really hungry.’

‘You will be once you smell them cooking.’ He began opening cupboards and drawers – a bowl, a whisk, flour, milk, sugar, baking powder and eggs. ‘So,’ he said, ‘odds on Katie got back from yours yesterday and went to Tess, either for comfort or to hide from you. Or a combination of both, perhaps.’

‘It certainly looks that way.’

‘Then stop worrying. We’ll have breakfast and then we’ll give the girls a call and have this settled in no time.’

‘Couldn’t we call them now?’

‘Goodness me, no! It’s much too early. If I know my sister, she will have got out the hard liquor last night and they’ll be sleeping off a stinker of a hangover.’

Normally if Cecily was ill, even with a cold, Stirling would go and see her to make sure it was nothing serious. But in this instance, Gina had persuaded him that visiting her would put Louisa-May at risk and that it was better to keep away for today. So instead, he had phoned her. ‘You don’t sound right,’ his mother said to him now.

‘I’ve been a bit under the weather myself,’ he admitted.

‘A cold?’

‘No. I think everything’s caught up with me.’

‘Neil’s death, you mean?’

‘That and other things.’

‘What things?’

‘Katie.’

‘Why should Katie make you ill?’

He stared out of the window at the rain. The lawn was sodden. ‘Don’t be disingenuous, Mum,’ he said. ‘Her showing up the way she did has had a big effect on everyone.’

‘You’re talking specifically about Gina, I take it?’

‘And Rosco and Scarlet.’

‘They’ll come round in the end.’

He fought to suppress a flash of irritation. ‘So you keep saying,’ he said stiffly.

‘Stirling?’

He closed his eyes, then opened them. ‘Nothing, Mum,’ he said tiredly. ‘Forget I said anything.’

‘Stirling, I do appreciate the strain you’re under – I’ve been concerned about you for a while – but she’s your daughter. Please don’t forget that.’

He heard the warning tone in his mother’s voice and backed off. He had hoped to tell her about yesterday, to come clean, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t face it. ‘I won’t,’ he said, utterly defeated.

‘Good. Don’t lose sight of that. Oh dear, I’m going to have to go. That’ll be Marjorie at the door. She said she’d call round with some Vicks VapoRub for me. She’s feeling very guilty, as she’s the one who’s given me this wretched cold. Give my love to everyone, especially Scarlet and the baby.’

Oh, to feel guilty about something as insignificant as passing on a cold, thought Stirling when he’d hung up.

Not until they had eaten and tidied everything away did Zac put Lloyd out of his misery and say it was at last time to ring Tess.

The telephone in London rang and rang and was eventually answered. Zac had his phone on speaker so that Lloyd could hear both sides of the conversation.

‘Hi, little sis,’ Zac said. ‘How’s things?’

‘Keep your voice down, will you?’

‘You sound like you’ve been gargling with Cillit Bang. Heavy night?’ Zac gave Lloyd a told-you-so look.

‘You could say that.’

‘I’ve told you before, your body is a temple, you should respect it more.’

‘I think Ben does enough worshipping of my body for the two of us.’

‘Ooh, hark at you with your boasting. Not all of us are so fortunate to have such an attentive lover.’

‘Voice and lower, please, Zac. But look, there’s some serious mad shit going on. I’ve got Katie here. She turned up last night in floods of tears. She’s dumped Lloyd.’

‘
No!
Why’s she done that? I mean, the boy is seriously gorgeous. He’s
sooo
the one for her.’ Zac was looking straight at Lloyd as he said this. Lloyd felt his face redden. And then redden some more.

‘I agree with you,’ Tess went on. ‘And I think she knows that. I haven’t seen her this upset in ages, not since her mum died. To be honest with you, I reckon she’s crying more over this than she did with her mother. I’m not saying she didn’t care about her mum, but you and I both thought the same, she didn’t really get all her grief out then. It was the same with her dad, she thought she had to hold it all in to help her mother.’

‘So what’s going on? Why has she dumped poor Lloyd without telling him? Why did she just run off? That’s so unlike her.’

There was a pause. And then Tess said, ‘How do you know she didn’t tell Lloyd what she was doing?’

Zac glanced at Lloyd. Lloyd nodded.

‘Because he’s here with me. And he’s not a happy bunny. Far from it.’

‘You haven’t got your phone on speaker, have you?’

Zac squeezed his eyes shut and crossed his fingers. ‘No.’

‘Good. The thing is, Katie says she’s done it because of her biological father.’

Lloyd froze.

‘Why? What’s it got to do with him?’ Zac asked.

‘He was being made to choose between her and his wife and other children. Apparently he couldn’t have both. From what Katie says, it was making him ill. She says she hated knowing that she’d done that to him. She could see he didn’t want to make the choice, so she did it for him.’

‘But what the hell has that got to do with Lloyd?’

Good bloody question, thought Lloyd.

‘Use your head, Zac. She can’t walk out of Stirling’s life but be seriously involved with Lloyd. If she ends it with Stirling, she has to end it with Lloyd, it’s as simple as that.’

‘I don’t think Lloyd is going to think it’s as simple as that. In fact, I know so.’

Lloyd couldn’t keep silent any longer. He gestured to speak to Tess for himself. Zac gave him the go-ahead.

‘Tess, it’s Lloyd.’

‘Oh,’ she said. Then: ‘Zac, you were lying, weren’t you? You’ve had this conversation on speaker the whole time, haven’t you?’

‘Don’t be cross with him,’ Lloyd said. ‘Can I speak to Katie?’

‘She’s still asleep.’

‘When she wakes up, then?’

‘I don’t know whether she’ll want to. She made me promise I wouldn’t get in touch with you. She knows I think she’s made a mistake, but I have to respect her wishes.’

‘Please, couldn’t I come and see her?’

‘Oh Lloyd, don’t put me in an impossible situation. Katie’s my best friend; please don’t force me to break a promise. You see, she must have known that you’d try and change her mind, so she made me swear I wouldn’t let you talk me into seeing her. All I can suggest is that you wait. Let her calm down and maybe, given time, she’ll realize she’s done the wrong thing.’

It’s not Katie who’s done the wrong thing, thought Lloyd grimly when he was driving back to Henley.

Pen had woken up that morning with the unexpected urge to go to church. By no stretch of the imagination could she be called a regular attendee of St Oswald’s, but over the years she had gone often enough to feel comfortable there. Though not since Neil’s funeral.

Today, however, she’d had a sudden longing to enjoy a sense of peaceful communion in the familiarity of the age-old liturgy. But it was not to be. The Reverend Roger Batley was away on a fortnight’s holiday and the service, extraordinarily long and drawn out, and led by the lay readers and team ministry, hadn’t provided the quiet solemnity she had hoped for. It had been a scrupulously modern affair, a family service that had covered everything but touched nothing. The hymns were all modern and naively simplistic and tediously repetitive. There had been too much clapping, too many squeaky recorders and far too many rattling bean-filled shakers in the hands of far too many uncontrollable children. A play had been acted out by the older members of the Sunday school, put together, one presumed, to bring to the complacent middle-class attention of the congregation the plight of the homeless, along with prostitution, drug addiction and gang warfare. It had gone on for an eternity – or, more accurately, purgatory – and had laboured its point of hard-hitting edginess to the nth degree. Pen hadn’t been the only one to wonder if it wasn’t just a touch too near the knuckle. What next for Sunday school: incest and paedophilia? During coffee and biscuits, which she was roped into helping with, there was much tutting and murmuring of just-wait-till-the-vicar-hears about-this amongst the more traditionally minded.