Chapter 53
“It’s so beautiful out here,” Allaine said, watching Nicky and Kaylee tearing round the front lawn with Farrell barking up a storm. “You’re so lucky.” The dog herded them like cattle but grew bored as they hurled themselves to the snowy floor giggling.
“I know,” Emma agreed, sitting against the side of the window seat and drawing her knees up to her chest.
“How are you?” Allaine asked, and Emma nodded.
“I’m good, thanks. It’s a relief the baby was ok. Stupid woman, why would you hit someone that hard over a man?”
“She’s done it before, apparently.” Allaine lowered her voice. “But please don’t tell Will you heard it from me. She gave Mr Dalton one hell of a time at the start of last year and he threatened to sack her when he caught her following his wife around the supermarket. She packed it in and then switched to Rohan when she bumped into him in town. She followed him home and then rented a house round the corner on Granville Street. It was easy after that to keep appearing at his door needing things. She moved here from Nottingham and changed her name after...get this; she was bailed for stalking a local councillor.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Emma rubbed a hand over her face. “The education department would have paid her wages. They would need to see birth certificates and proof of name and stuff like that, tax number and official stuff. I know because I had to take all that in to Mr Dalton for him to draw up a contract for me for next year.”
“She took someone else’s identity.” Allaine laid a hand on Emma’s knee. “Please don’t tell anyone. Will would kill me. I just know that you’re kind of holding it against Rohan for her behaviour. I wanted you to understand how she worked. It would take nothing for her to be encouraged, believe me.”
Emma sighed. “That’s partly it. But the other thing I keep asking myself is, how can Rohan not see these strange women attaching themselves to him? I mean, right now, he’s visiting his mother who’s on remand for murdering vulnerable men and possibly her own child. He shut his mind to her behaviour all those years, Allie. Of course he couldn’t see what Felicity...or whatever her name is, was doing. He didn’t want to see.” She dragged a finger down the small rectangular pane of blown glass, leaving a streak in the condensation. “He’s like this massive hunk of prime Russian killing machine, who believes anything a manipulative woman says to him. It makes me scared.” Emma sighed and stretched her legs out, putting her hand on Allaine’s foot as she stretched out next to her. The two of them hardly filled the huge window seat.
“All men have their weaknesses,” Allaine said, sounding wise. She watched the children making an igloo in the snow drifts beyond the driveway. “Those kids are gonna be freezing.”
Emma watched her friend’s face, searching for the wisdom she always managed to produce. Allaine turned back to her and smiled. “Take Will for example. He’s handsome, got a great body, still turns me on at forty. He’s an incredible father, amazing lover, excellent husband and outstanding police sergeant.” Emma waited patiently for the punch line. Allaine fixed her blue eyes on Emma’s brown ones, her face all serious. “The guy can’t stand the sight of blood. All that and he’s scared of a little bodily fluid! So see, they all have faults.”
Emma snorted. “I thought you were going to say something really helpful!” she laughed, holding her sides. “He’s squeamish!”
“Hey, what do you usually do for Christmas?” Allaine said suddenly, changing the subject. “It’s less than two days away now.”
Emma’s face took on a haunted, faraway look. “When my father was alive, we did a proper Christmas lunch and gifts. His housekeeper cooked the turkey and ate with us. When he married Alanya, she claimed she couldn’t cook such food and the housekeeper was too intimidated to stay and eat with us. My father got sick and it gradually fizzled out. After he died, we didn’t do it at all. Lucya and I had no money but it was always happy. We’d save up and buy three chicken drumsticks and watch Christmas movies all afternoon on television. Sometimes the shelters gave food donations and those times were better. There was always a gift for Nicky but she would kiss me on the forehead on Christmas morning and say Nicky was my present to her. After she died, in Lincoln...” Emma sighed. “Nicky knew I had nothing. He drew me a picture and I might write him a story. Once I did it on the computer at work and printed it off. I stitched it into a book and he pretended it was real. We played cards and cuddled. Mostly we listened to the crack addicts next door getting high and the family across the street knocking the snot out of each other. Better than television.” Emma inhaled. “I’m not sure about this year. I’ve promised to visit Freda but I don’t know what Rohan has planned. The clinic allowed him to get his leg fitted on Saturday so now there’s nothing stopping him. Maybe he’ll be away.” Emma picked at a piece of loose paint and bit her lip.
“You think he’ll still work as the Actuary?” Allaine asked and Emma shrugged.
“I don’t know. The night he came for me, he was like a moth to a flame. I’d never seen him more alive. I understood then, once I saw him in action. He won’t be honest with me about what actually happened after they drugged me, so I don’t even know if she...oh, it doesn’t matter. I begged him not to go back to the army all those years ago. He came home on leave and I knew I was pregnant. I was sixteen and terrified and I begged him. He looked me in the eye and said, ‘I can’t stop, Emma. I love it. I love thinking on my feet and strategising. I work out risks and then walk the paths I map for myself. I love it.’ I asked him, ‘Do you love it more than me?’ He couldn’t answer.” Emma looked at the children rolling in the snow, their bodies covered in icy flakes. She gulped. “I walked out in frustration, he left and I didn’t get to tell him about Nicky. He got blown up and I never knew.”
Depression settled on her, bringing her very real fears to the surface and ruining her enjoyment of the relaxing afternoon. Emma forced herself to smile at her friend, fixing a false calm over herself to stop her betraying any other deep secrets.
“He might surprise you,” Allaine whispered, leaning forward and gripping Emma’s cold hand in hers.
“Yeah. And he might not.” Emma spread her fingers across the tiny child inside her belly, communicating love through her touch. Her eyes roved again to her son, giggling and hooning around with his friend. “I might just have to accept that I’m on my own again,” Emma whispered, extreme sadness penetrating through her words.
“Come to us for Christmas?” Allaine begged, tears in her eyes. “Please? Whether Rohan’s here or not, please come and be part of our family. It’s crazy busy and there’re people everywhere but you’ll be so welcome. Think about it, please? Promise me? Freda can come too.”
“Thank you.” Emma gripped her friend’s hand and clung on for dear life, wondering what the future would hold for her and daring to believe it might be good this time.
The women sat in the silence of the ancient house, listening to the boards settling and the old structure giving the occasional involuntary creak. The sound of squeals on the front lawn were joyful and comforting, casting them back to a time when this house was filled with people living their lives, making enemies, making love and rolling around in the winter snow. Emma glanced up with a sigh and raked the garden with her eyes, looking for the children. Nicky heaved his body weight against a round white ball of snow, forcing it uphill with enormous exertion. Kaylee’s tiny form lent its help, pushing and making hardly any difference.
The tall, strongly built man squatted down in the snow next to them, a dark jacket protecting his torso. His blonde hair blended with the white snow and his hands were bare. He bent to push the snowball, an awkward movement for him and he shoved one handed from between the children. It crumbled to pieces with the added force and the children stood up and stared at its dilapidated state, their swaddled faces downturned in disappointment. Rohan bent and collected a ball of snow, rolling it in his fingers while the children stared up at him. He set off away fr
om them with long strides and threw the ball backwards with skill, an underarm which caught Nicky on the chest of his duffel coat. With combined squeaks of joy, the children buried their gloves in the snowball, breaking off chunks and rolling them. They pelted Rohan with squeals of delight, running away on small legs as he bent to make sturdy ammunition and advancing with giggles and belly laughs when he ran out.
His car sat idling on the long driveway and he ran towards it with a loping gait and the children pursued, missing him by miles with their hurriedly thrown missiles. The black dog barked and leapt around, trying to catch the balls of flying snow.
Emma watched as Rohan ran to the boot of the car and produced a wide plastic sled with a string attached. The children whooped and screeched, dropping their snowballs and running towards him. Nicky hurled himself at Rohan, hugging his legs and Kaylee took the opportunity to sit herself in the red lid-shaped sled. Rohan bent to kiss Nicky and then stood for a minute, watching as his son hauled his friend around the garden with excitement. Kaylee held on with mittened hands, the bobble on top of her hat wobbling furiously with the action, their laughter carrying back to the women indoors.
Rohan observed for a moment before thrusting cold hands into his jeans pockets and trudging back to the car through the deep snow, his limp barely noticeable in the wide footsteps over the drifts and hidden flower beds.
“It’ll be ok, Emma.” Allaine’s voice was soft as Emma looked up, realising her friend studied her with an intent look on her face. Allaine nudged her shin and Emma nodded and looked away. Rohan’s car slid up the driveway, negotiating the pockets of ice and snow with care. He would reach the wide front doors and pillared steps in seconds and Emma’s heart gave a lurch of anticipation, which she beat down with a valiant effort.
Emma watched him emerge from the black car and slam the door, walking up the wide front steps and banging his shoes on them to release the clumps of snow. A few days’ blonde beard growth kissed his angular face and dark lashes framed his expressive marbled blue eyes. He was beautifully made and knitted together and Emma laid her head back against the shutter and closed her eyes. An image of his smiling eyes danced in front of her inner vision, teasing and seductive. She sighed and looked at Allaine, who watched her with concern. “I’ve loved him since I was not much older than Nicky,” Emma said softly. “But I can’t own the unpossessable. He’s a danger addict. He left once and probably will again. I think that’s what this is.” Emma looked up at the ceiling rose and the ornate cornering in the huge room. “Anton offered me security in the event of all else failing. He understood. Life as the wife of Rohan Andreyev, the Actuary, has no certainties; he would have known that.”
The women jumped at the sound of the front door slamming against the wind. The panes of the inner glass doors shook and they heard Rohan whistling to himself as he wiped his shoes on the doormat. Emma splayed her fingers across her unborn child and stiffened her back as his footsteps echoed down the hallway towards them. A smile sprang to her face as she accepted a kiss from her husband’s bitterly cold lips, knowing his love for her burned as fiercely as hers did for him.
Heaven only knew what the future held, but she wouldn’t want to face it with anyone else.