Confessions Page 18

  Absently traversing the thistly fields and soggy paths, they strolled hand in hand, chatting intermittently about Gavin and Ruthie and work, about Wes’s cases, the bench boys and Jack. Everything but Andrea.

  When the cottage came in sight, Nat stopped and took a breath. She didn’t want to spoil the moment, yet it had to be said. ‘You know we have to talk about…’ But Wes placed his fingers against her mouth.

  ‘I will; I promise, but not now. Come and say hello to Sidney and the kids. They’ve had a teacher training day, but he’ll be taking them back to their mum’s soon. I’ll cook something nice for dinner. What do you fancy? A risotto or pasta? I have steak and salad; I could rustle up a stir-fry.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘Or we could go out if you’d rather. A meal or the pub. What’s your heart’s desire?’

  Nat smiled at his sweetness, but he was talking too much. Kath was right; he was hiding something. Oh God, what was it?

  25

  The Ghost

  Nat’s sleep had been so deep that it took several moments to remember where she was. She was naked, toasty hot and Wes Hughes was watching her from the pillow opposite.

  ‘You’re meant to fall asleep after sex, not before,’ he said with a smile.

  She turned onto her stomach and thought about last night. She and Wes had had an enjoyable dinner with Sidney. Before that, Wes had gone to do his thing with the Aga, abandoning her to his brother’s obvious curiosity in the warm lounge.

  ‘As you can tell, Wesley is the wife,’ Sidney had quipped, and had then gone on to bombard her with questions. How long had she known Wes? Oh right, Nat was the Chester mystery girl. Didn’t they once meet at a party? So why the long hiatus? Ah, it was her job Wes took over at Goldman Law. Where did she go? And why did she come back? Leave the sunshine behind; was she mad?

  Nat had tried doing a Jack Goldman by changing the subject, but Sidney was so easy-going, open and guileless like his mum, it had been difficult to take umbrage. She wasn’t used to speaking about herself, especially the missing Mallorca years, and she’d found it quite exhausting to filter those bits she was willing to share. Still, like a typical man, he’d abruptly got bored and moved on to talk about himself.

  She now laughed at the memory. Surely Kath didn’t need to do any squeezing with this son. Within the time it took Wes to produce his beef stir-fry, she’d had a detailed resume of Sidney’s career progression, his current job, his kids and why his marriage hadn’t worked (too much time away from home on business trips and – allegedly – too messy when he was there). The Odd Couple indeed; Nat clearly had the more thoughtful (and tidy) of the two, the one whose dark eyes were so difficult to interpret at times.

  Right now wasn’t one of them: with those damn clever fingers Wes was stroking her back from shoulder to buttock.

  ‘It was cruelty, actually,’ he was saying. ‘Having to sleep next to this beautiful body all night and not touch. You are just perfect.’

  Nat smiled, her skin tingling with pleasure. ‘Fat, you mean. That’s life at Savage Solicitors. A diet of pork pies, marshmallows and cream cakes. Not to mention the extra helpings of liquid sugar.’

  ‘Hardly fat. A touch more curvaceous. I like it.’

  His hands were replaced by his lips. Sidney had still been holding court at midnight, so she’d given Wes a meaningful glance, then slipped away to the bedroom before him. She’d stripped off her clothes, waiting with an inane grin for him to join her. The last thing she’d remembered before sleep hit was a promise to herself that she’d make him talk first thing this morning, honest pillow talk before anything else. But at this precise moment, talking could wait.

  They sat at the small kitchen table, an astonishing selection of cereals – from Cookie Crisp to Crunchy Nut, from Cheerios to Coco Pops – between them like a wall.

  ‘Sidney’s kids,’ Wes said by way of explanation. ‘He spoils them to make up for… well, you can imagine.’ He ate a few mouthfuls of muesli, then put down his spoon. ‘Talking of which, I had arranged to drive over to Sheffield today.’

  Feeling a twinge of the old exclusion sensation, Nat tried for a smile. ‘To see Dylan and Matty? That’s nice.’

  ‘Yeah. I promised to take them out for some lunch. Why don’t you come with me?’

  Almost choking on her Weetabix, Nat stared to see if he was being serious.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course. It’ll be fun.’

  The flare of pleasure was quickly followed by something else she couldn’t quite describe. Apprehension? Fear? It was so sweet and unexpected that Wes wanted her to meet the boys, but the thought made her sweaty.

  As though reading her mind, he put his hand on hers. ‘They’ll love you, Nat. And I want to do it properly this time. You’ve met my mum, you’ve met Sidney and his kids. Dad too. You should meet my sons. You should’ve before now.’ He frowned. ‘I wanted to introduce you last year, but…’ He shook his head. ‘And after the past few weeks of missing you so badly…’ His expression clearing, he leaned forward to kiss her. ‘I want them to meet the woman I love.’

  The happiness increased, but so did her disquiet. They hadn’t spoken yet; it was jumping the gun. The line of breakfast boxes wasn’t the barrier; it was Andrea, or as ever, her ghost.

  A wave of anxiety sickness hit. Lowering her head, Nat tried to breathe the nausea away.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Wes knelt by her chair and peered at her face. ‘You’re meant to say something along the lines of how much you love me too, not faint.’

  The tears prodded then; how she wished she could control them. ‘I do very much, Wes, but you’re holding back on me. What is it? There’s something Andrea is using–’

  ‘Catherine.’ Still on his knees, he leaned back and spread his hands. ‘Catherine,’ he repeated. ‘That’s what she’s got.’

  Stuck for words Nat gazed.

  Wes rubbed his head and blew out before speaking. ‘I haven’t seen Andrea in person,’ he said eventually. ‘But…’

  She held her breath.

  ‘Back in January she called, as you know, and after that she continued to phone from time to time. Long winded conversations about the boys, this and that, as though everything’s fine.’ He snorted. ‘Lulling me into a false sense of security…’

  Nat bit back the desire to say, ‘I told you so.’

  ‘…but she got to the point in the final call.’ He sighed. ‘She mentioned the office flat in one breath and Catherine in another. She didn’t say it outright, of course. We both know that’s not her style. But as sweetly as ever, she made it quite clear that if I didn’t visit her, Jack Goldman would hear about whatever information she has.’

  Wes following in his, Nat drove to Cheadle and parked up the Mercedes behind her mum’s Ka.

  He had become quite assertive when she equivocated about the trip to Sheffield. She’d found herself sounding worryingly like Anna. Suppose the boys resented her? Or blamed her, even? Wouldn’t it be nicer for Wes to see them on his own? Her blouse was sweaty. She had no clean knickers. Her mobile was at home. Borys might have abducted her mum.

  She’d even resorted to the old chestnut of: ‘And the cats might need feeding.’

  ‘Dylan and Matty will love you because I love you,’ he’d said firmly. ‘I’d prefer you not to wear underwear, but if you insist, we’ll go via Cheadle to collect some and I’ll say hello to your mum. We can drop off your car while we’re there.’

  As though she’d been watching, Anna flung open the door. Reaching up on tiptoes to kiss Wes’s cheek, her delight was plain to see.

  ‘Oh do come in and get warm, Wes. How lovely to see you…’

  Nat studied his dark beard while he and Anna chatted. It was full but trimmed short, and added a certain gravitas, but it still made her feel a little unsettled. He’d grown it without her; perhaps that was why.

  Rolling her eyes several times, she watched her mum fuss. Her cheeks glowing, she offered drinks and snacks even though they expla
ined they couldn’t stay long. Nat admired her restraint. All those weeks ago Nat had promised to spill the beans about her break-up with Wes, but never had. Anna hadn’t pried; her pale gaze had been watchful and loaded with concern, but she’d held back. How Nat wished she could do the same, just let things rest, but it wasn’t in her nature. She had to examine, to pick and to pull, until she had the right answer.

  The latest Andrea problem was examined, picked and pulled during the hour’s journey to Sheffield. In Nat’s mind, if not verbally. It was a no-win situation: on the business front, Jack, Catherine and Wes were the partners of Goldman Law, but not in equal shares. Jack didn’t much care how the other half was apportioned so long as he retained his fifty-one per cent. In short, Jack controlled the firm. If he got wind of the affair, Wes could lose his job, a job he loved, a job he needed. The fall out and gossip would damage his career.

  ‘I want to buy a new house,’ he’d explained in the kitchen. ‘I’d like to buy us a home, but unless I can remortgage Cheadle Hulme or sell it, financially it’s difficult. It’s Andrea’s house too. She doesn’t want to leave. It’s Dylan and Matty’s home, so that’s fair enough, but she won’t sign documents to release any equity. I’m saving what I can, but it’ll be nothing if Jack finds out and sacks me…’

  There was the personal front too. Nat knew without a doubt that Catherine adored Jack, that her fling with Wes was born of a complicated mix of loneliness, childlessness and hitting fifty. But things had now changed; she and Jack had reconciled with wayward Julian; they had little Reuben, a grandson they both doted on.

  Then finally there was Nat’s own love for Jack. He’d recovered from the coronary and its aftershock; he was in a good place. But it wasn’t simply that. Apart from her mum, Jack had been the most constant person in her life for nearly sixteen years. She was his most trusted confidant. If he discovered she’d known about the affair and hadn’t told him, where would that leave them?

  As the purple moors of the winding Snake Pass hurtled by, Nat asked Wes the obvious questions. Was Andrea just digging around for dirt? Was he sure she really did know about the trysts at the office flat? Did she have proof? Couldn’t he call her bluff? Just flatly deny it?

  But her queries were ones he’d already asked himself many times. Andrea wanted to see him and until she did, he wouldn’t know exactly what evidence she had, but in all likelihood she had something, an exchange of text messages between him and Catherine, probably. Maybe she had a screenshot of them. But even if she had nothing, she was clever. On the basis of ‘no smoke without fire’ she could do plenty of damage with the fumes alone.

  A weathered road sign welcomed them to Yorkshire. Nat absently noticed it, then did another take. Oh God, they were almost there. Like a radio with only two channels, she tuned her worries from Wes’s wife to his sons. The nausea back, her stomach churned. Matty and Dylan. She wanted to meet them; she was intrigued and interested. She so wanted them to like her; perhaps even confide and trust her in time. But at the end of the day, they already had a mother they loved. That person just happened to be the bane of her life.

  She turned to Wes, needing to ask before they arrived. ‘How do the boys feel about their mum now?’

  He frowned briefly, but didn’t appear to mind the question. ‘I’m not entirely sure; I try to ask from time to time, but they barely speak about it at all.’

  Hmm… Kath and her squeezing; the sons sounded much like their father.

  Wes’s expression was thoughtful. ‘To be honest, I think they prefer not to dwell on it. Their first year at uni; they want to be carefree, get drunk, have fun.’ He caught her hand. ‘Discover the delights of pretty girls and sex. God pray they use a condom.’

  She nodded, the irony not lost. Wes hadn’t intended to procreate with Andrea, let alone settle down at twenty-two. She’d announced the pregnancy when their relationship was on the wane. Yup, the Cling-on had been ahead of the game, even then.

  ‘But I have discovered more info about Andrea from the police,’ Wes continued. ‘The investigation was handed over to a different detective and she gave me a call to fill me in.’ He glanced at Nat. ‘Apparently Andrea has changed her story several times. When Matty’s poisoning was confirmed by the hospital, she told that officer it was me who’d done it; he pointed out that Matty’s illnesses occurred in Sheffield, so she then said it must have been Dylan.’

  Shaking his head, he scowled. ‘“Harmless sibling rivalry,” as she put it. Next she asserted Matty’s pathology results were wrong, that laboratory errors took place all the time. Then finally, when confronted with the tests on her home-cooked food from the freezer, she said she’d realised what must have happened: it was all a terrible mistake, she liked to decant loose products into containers at home; she must have mixed them up in the cupboard by accident, salt for sugar and the like.’ His jaw tight, he smiled thinly. ‘And the worrying thing is, she’s so bloody convincing.’

  Nat felt that familiar prickling on her skin. ‘What about throwing herself down the stairs and blaming you? Wasting police time; perverting the course of justice?’

  ‘Ah, that one’s easy,’ he replied with a bitter snort. ‘She smashed her head; she had bleeding and brain damage, so she can’t remember what happened on the day of the fall. It’s all a fog, evidently. She says that maybe she just tripped, or perhaps she had a dizzy spell, but can’t say for sure. As for the allegation against me, she was disorientated, confused when she woke up with a bandaged head in hospital. She pointed out that the last time I was at the house we’d argued, so she genuinely thought I had pushed her; that her statement to the medical staff was the honest truth at the time. Apparently she sent her profound apologies to me through her solicitor.’

  Wes’s grimace returned. ‘God knows what a jury will make of it. In our civil cases we’re used to the balance of probabilities test, aren’t we. Crime is a whole other thing. I can see some poor sap believing her salt for sugar story. Or at least thinking there’s doubt. And people with head injuries do have the sort of problems she claims: forgetfulness, befuddlement, loss of memory and so on. The new detective is determined to bat on, but…’

  As he steered the car down one of Sheffield’s seven famous hills, Wes’s voice trailed off. He didn’t need to say what they were both thinking. Nat’s tingling sensation had now turned to stabbing and was crawling down her spine. Trying to shake it off, she folded her arms and stared at the sturdy grey stone properties. Why she hadn’t thought of it before, she didn’t know. The standard of proof required for a criminal conviction was ‘beyond reasonable doubt’, a pretty tall order for any prosecution, let alone one against someone as cunning and inventive as Andrea. There was room for manoeuvre; space to create dilemmas, uncertainty and conundrums for the jury. The manipulative Cling-on was clearly working on that.

  Bloody hell; Bloody hell! Kath’s ‘evil and manipulative bitch’ might well be acquitted.

  26

  Crumbs

  Nat yawned and reached her arm to the mattress by her side. It was cold and empty. Of course; Wes’s Sunday 10k. Remembering the sex before and after sleep this time, she curled back into a ball. No, that wasn’t quite true. The before had been lovemaking. Sidney hadn’t been around last night, so they had ‘retired’ at eight.

  ‘I’m not risking you falling asleep on me this time,’ Wes had said with a grin.

  They had chatted and laughed; they’d touched, stroked and kissed. Tender, intimate, glorious. They hadn’t drifted off until the early hours.

  Catching a glimpse of sunshine through the curtains, Nat smiled. Spring was on its way and life was back on track. And yesterday’s trip to Sheffield had been fine after all. Not good, not bad but okay. Dylan and Matty hadn’t seemed surprised when she turned up at their flat, but they hadn’t been particularly friendly either. Neither were dressed, so she and Wes had sat in the kitchen area, losing count of the scattered shot glasses and bottles. Thrumming her fingers on the table, she’d stared
at the dirty pots piled high in both sinks.

  Wes had smiled. ‘You’re itching to do something…’ He’d glanced over his shoulder. ‘Ah. That’s what mine looked like back in the day, believe it or not, but if you wash, I’ll dry.’

  They’d made a few inroads, Wes replacing the dishes randomly on shelves, with a comment that it would probably ‘cause beef, but what the hell’.

  Unable to stop herself, Nat had squirted the last of the Fairy Liquid on the fat-and-food-encrusted hotplates, then applied elbow grease with a scrubbing brush.

  Still looking sleepy, Dylan had appeared at the door. ‘That isn’t ours,’ he’d stated. ‘It’s the girls’.’ He’d nodded to the other hob, which was pretty damned clean, and shrugged, ‘No cooking, no mess.’ Then he’d peered in the cupboard Wes had just closed. ‘Those plates aren’t ours either. That’s going to cause beef.’

  Wes had caught Nat’s eye and half smiled. ‘A thank you would be nice,’ he’d replied evenly, then, when Matty appeared moments later, ‘This is Natalie, by the way.’

  Matty had nodded, his expression a touch more friendly than Dylan’s. ‘Do you have kids?’ he’d asked.

  ‘No,’ Nat had replied, which appeared to be the correct answer.

  Two female faces had bobbed around the kitchen door. ‘Do you think the “beef” might be eased by a free lunch?’ she’d asked, reaching discreetly for Wes’s hand and hoping he didn’t mind.

  ‘Sweet,’ the boys had replied together.

  So the lunch foursome had become nine eventually, Nat trying to work out which of the pretty women didn’t belong in the flat of three guys and three girls.

  ‘I hope you didn’t mind my… interference,’ she’d said in the car on the way back. God, she hated that word; she needed to find one that sounded more heroic.