‘You didn’t kill anyone, Grandpa.’
‘Perhaps not,’ said Stephen. ‘But we both did time for it. So, you are right. Jerry Ranger is Fabrice.’
‘And Fabrice killed Nathan?’ the old man said.
Stephen shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘But why would Fabrice want to kill Alastair?’ Clémence asked.
‘Why wouldn’t he?’ said Stephen. He sighed. ‘When you came down to London and showed me that damned exercise book, you had written at the end that Fabrice had killed Nathan. You wanted me to confirm it. I refused to, after all I didn’t know for sure myself, and I was pretty certain you were just guessing. You didn’t seem to know that Fabrice had changed his name, or what his new name was.’
‘And you told Fabrice this?’ said Clémence.
‘I didn’t tell Fabrice, no,’ said Stephen. ‘I really have only seen him once in the last forty years. He came to visit me in London about ten years ago after he had been let out of jail. I told him not to see me again.’
‘So who did you tell?’ the old man asked.
‘Madeleine. I told her that you suspected Fabrice killed Nathan.’
‘You don’t think Aunt Madeleine told Fabrice?’
Stephen shrugged. Shrugged in a way that suggested yes, he did think that.
Although Clémence was desperate to find out more, Jerry — or her Uncle Fabrice — was on his way. ‘Come on, you two, we’ve got to get out of here now. Get your coats on!’
‘No,’ said the old man.
‘No? Don’t be silly! Come on!’
‘I can’t face another night out there,’ said the old man. ‘I want to talk to this man Fabrice.’
‘But he wants to kill you!’
‘I’ll stay too,’ said Stephen. ‘I’d like to see my son.’
‘You’re both crazy,’ said Clémence. It was possible Stephen might be safe, but it seemed to her highly likely that if Alastair stayed in the cottage, he wouldn’t live long. She grabbed hold of his arm, dragging him up out of the chair.
‘Leave me alone!’ the old man snapped. ‘I have a right to stay here if I want to. But you should go. Go now! Go!’
Clémence hesitated. Maybe he did have the right to stay and get shot. But she didn’t want to be murdered by her lunatic uncle.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘Good luck, both of you.’
On an impulse, she kissed Alastair on the cheek, and then Stephen, and then she rushed to the back door and opened it.
There, pointing a rifle directly at her chest, was Jerry Ranger.
26
‘Hi, Clémence.’
Jerry was smiling. He had lost his beard, his grey hair had been clipped short, and his eyes were red with fatigue. But he was wired; he looked ready to pull the trigger at any second.
Clémence opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
‘Step back. Slowly,’ said Jerry. ‘And go back into the living room.’
‘OK,’ said Clémence. It was little more than a squeak.
She raised her hands above her head and backed into the sitting room. Stephen was on his feet, but Alastair was still rooted to his chair.
Jerry was surprised to see Stephen. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Just visiting,’ said Stephen. ‘Trying to straighten things out.’
‘Hello, Fabrice,’ the old man said.
Jerry frowned. ‘How does he know who I am, Dad?’ Jerry, or Fabrice, asked Stephen.
‘I’ve never heard you call me “Dad” before,’ said Stephen.
‘How does he know?’ Fabrice repeated.
‘He remembered. Just earlier, when we were talking. He remembered figuring it out before.’
‘Actually, I was guessing,’ said the old man. To Clémence’s amazement, he was smiling. ‘Claiming I remembered just gave it more credibility.’
‘Why didn’t you deny it?’ Fabrice demanded.
Stephen glared at his son. ‘Because the more we know and accept the truth, the more we can move on with our lives, and that would be a very good thing.’
‘But now she knows who I really am,’ said Fabrice, letting his gun swing towards Clémence. ‘That means I have to kill her too.’
At those words, shock became fear. Clémence didn’t want to die. She felt panic explode in her chest; she wanted to scream, to collapse on the floor and sob. She fought to control it. Keep a clear head. Her only chance was to keep a clear head.
‘But she’s my granddaughter!’ protested Stephen. ‘Your niece. You can’t kill her!’
‘She’s not your granddaughter,’ Fabrice sneered. ‘I’ve read the novel. And I’ve read that exercise book. She’s his granddaughter.’ Fabrice nodded contemptuously towards the old man. ‘Rupert was his son, not yours.’
‘I don’t accept that, Fabrice! That’s just not true!’ Stephen’s voice was rising in anger.
‘Clémence is your mother’s granddaughter,’ said the old man. ‘That still makes her your niece.’
Fabrice turned to him. ‘I don’t care who she is! If she knows who I really am, she will tell the police. She has to die too.’
‘Madeleine won’t like that, will she?’ said the old man.
‘What’s Madeleine got to do with it?’ said Fabrice.
‘Madeleine told you Nathan killed Sophie. Madeleine helped set up Nathan’s death.’ He paused. Clémence could see an idea coming to him. ‘Madeleine told you we were here.’
‘You don’t remember that,’ said Fabrice. ‘You’re just guessing again.’
‘But I’m right, aren’t I?’ said the old man. ‘Madeleine was quite happy to see me dead, but not her favourite great-niece. She forbade you to harm her.’
For a moment, hope flickered. Clémence could see the old man was trying to negotiate for her life. He knew he was going to die soon, but he was trying to keep her alive. And not doing a bad job of it.
But Fabrice was right. If he let Clémence live, she would tell the police who he was. She could try promising to stay quiet, but her promise would mean nothing, and Fabrice wouldn’t trust it.
‘I’ll just have to tell Madeleine I’m sorry,’ said Fabrice. ‘That I had no choice. She won’t like it, but she’ll have to live with it.’ He stared hard at the old man. ‘I’ve come a long way to do this, and I’m going to do it. You and Nathan, you destroyed our family. If my father hadn’t gone to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, all our lives would be different. My life wouldn’t have been the total fuck-up that it is, I wouldn’t have done the drugs. I wouldn’t have killed Wendy, wouldn’t have gone to jail...’ He paused. ‘The shrinks had a field day with all that, said I never stood a chance. And they were right. Nathan did all that. And you, you did it too. I didn’t let him escape the consequences, and I’m not going to let you.’
‘I understand why you want to kill me,’ said the old man. ‘And Nathan. But not Clémence.’
‘That’s your fault, Alastair. You brought her into this. You bear the responsibility.’
Clémence wanted to protest, to point out that it was Madeleine who had sent her to see Alastair, that none of this was the old man’s fault, but she found she couldn’t speak. And she knew Fabrice wouldn’t listen.
‘So you have my black exercise book?’ said the old man. ‘Did you steal it from here?’
‘Yes. After I knocked you down the stairs. In fact, that’s why I knocked you down the stairs; I meant to kill you then. Madeleine had told me what was in the book, that you had figured out I had run down Nathan Giannelli, and so I had to destroy it, and destroy you.’
‘What about me?’ said Stephen. ‘What are you going to do with me? Your own father?’