‘I … ’ Backing away. ‘I … ’
‘I just want to touch you. Where’s the harm in that? Feel what I used to feel like … ’
Amy advanced once more. This time Dee stayed where she was. It was better, her mind quickly and reluctantly rationalised, to let a madwoman with a gun touch you rather than shoot you. The Golem must be around somewhere, she thought, but even he wouldn’t be quick enough to stop a bullet from close range.
Amy moved in close to her. Her breath smelled like the rotting house around them. She reached out a hand, stroked Dee’s cheek. Her fingers were rough, callused. Like being touched by tree bark. Dee tried not to move.
‘It’s … it’s like looking in a mirror, one that takes you back in time … ’ Her voice was low, calm. Almost a whisper. ‘How much?’
‘What?’
‘How much did it cost? To make … whoever you were … look like me?’
‘I … I don’t know. Lots.’
‘Lots.’ Amy nodded as if she had given the correct answer. ‘Lots.’
‘He … he said he wanted me to, to look more beautiful. Said I would, I could, if I would let him do it.’
‘And you did.’ Still stroking her cheek. Eyes travelling all over her features, appraising her. Her expression changeable; sometimes like she was looking at old love letters, sometimes like a farmer at a livestock market. ‘You did … ’
Encouraged by Amy’s tone, Dee continued to talk. ‘I didn’t mind,’ she said. ‘What he wanted to do. It hurt, but … ’
‘Yes.’ Still stroking. Still the same quiet voice. ‘My operations hurt too.’
‘More beautiful. That’s what he said. And that’s what I am. Beautiful.’ Dee looked at Amy. Found strength in her words. Her position. Because she was the winner. She was young, beautiful. And she had Michael. This mad old woman had nothing. She smiled. ‘He recognised something in me. We connected. Like no one I’ve ever met before. We’re soulmates.’
Amy drew back, her hand falling to her side. She stared Dee in the eye. ‘Pathetic. Soulmates. You know nothing.’
‘I know everything.’
‘You know nothing.’ Her voice rising, starting to shake once more. ‘About him. About me. Nothing.’ She stood where she was, still staring at Dee. ‘Soulmates. That’s what we were. He wanted me. And I wanted him. We had each other. All that we needed. We were our world.’ Her face twisted. ‘And then the boy arrived … ’
‘I know all this,’ said Dee. ‘He’s told me. How the two of you hated Stuart. How your father wanted to make him part of the family, marry his mother. How he wrote a new will with him in it, threatened to write you out if you complained.’
‘He told you all this, did he?’
‘He did. How he faked the shotgun attack, made it look like Stuart had done it. And he told me how sad he was about what happened to you.’
‘You were doing so well up until the last part. The last part’s a lie.’
‘He said he went all over Europe, taking you to specialists to fix you up.’
Amy was beginning to shake with anger. ‘That was what he told you, was it? Even he couldn’t bear to be seen as a bastard. Even he … ’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You think it was an accident? What happened to me? Do you? He shot me … ’
‘He said he had to make it look real.’
‘Bullshit. I looked in his eyes and I saw it. It just … went wrong, that’s all.’ She shook her head. Eyes fluttering, miles away. ‘Do you know … do you know what it feels like to watch the man you love … the absolute, total love of your life, the only person you’re ever going to feel like that about, pick up a gun, point it at you and … ’ Amy stared at Dee with renewed hatred. ‘He’s gone, you know.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Left you. Dumped you.’
‘No, no, he hasn’t … ’
‘Yes he has.’ The words spat out. ‘I know what he’s like. He wouldn’t have sent you here if he hadn’t left you. He’s gone off without you.’
‘He wouldn’t do that … ’
Amy laughed. It sounded like something was being dislodged inside her. ‘Yeah … that’s what I said. He wouldn’t do anything to me. Wouldn’t hurt me … But he did, didn’t he? Tried to kill me. Thought it would be easier to find a new one, make her the way he wanted, rather than make me well again … ’
She swung the gun on Dee. Started squeezing the trigger.
Dee looked round, desperately trying to signal to the Golem.
But he was nowhere to be found.
108
‘Where?’ asked Franks, looking puzzled. ‘Where is she?’
Marina looked at him, didn’t answer. She leant over the desk, brought her face right up against Stuart’s.‘Home,’ she said, her voice loud enough to make him open his eyes. ‘Home.’
He nodded, closed his eyes again.
‘It’s the house, isn’t it? The one in Wrabness? The one the Sloanes wanted to let crumble away?’
He didn’t answer. She reached over, shook him by the shoulders.
‘Isn’t it?’
‘Leave me alone … ’
She pulled him up close to her. Franks made to stop her, but she gestured at him to leave her alone. He dropped back. Stuart’s eyes were wide and staring, like he had been woken from a particularly deep sleep.
‘No, Stuart, I won’t leave you alone. Amy has taken my daughter, Josephina, the little girl you said you wanted to protect, to the house in Wrabness, hasn’t she?’
Stuart nodded.
Marina let him go. She looked at Franks.
‘Wrabness,’ she said, eyes lit by triumph. ‘Let’s go.’
109
Mickey had never liked ships. And containers at Harwich held equally bad, violent memories for him. But he put that all aside. He had work to do.
Harbour security was minimal as May and his team had driven up to the main gate. May had shown his warrant card and explained that two senior officers had gone missing, believed to have been abducted and placed on board the waiting cargo ship. The two rent-a-cops on the gate had jumped to attention. This was the most action they had ever seen on duty. They allowed the car through with no fuss. May asked them not to contact the ship and, thrilled at being in the presence of real coppers, they agreed.
They had embarked from the cars, stood on the pier. Mist and fog settled on them, dampening their clothes and hair, belabouring their breathing. May turned to his second in command, DS Terry.
‘What’s it say, Philip?’
DS Terry scrutinised a hand-held device, looked around. Converted what he saw on screen to what was in front of him.
‘That ship,’ he said pointing to the one in front of them. ‘Somewhere near the back.’
May nodded. ‘Come on then.’
The walkway was long, raked. The ship, one of several, looked huge against the pier, the cars, the people. A vast metal town. But Mickey was sure it would look tiny once it was out to sea, dwarfed against the waves.
The containers were piled high in the centre of the ship. Multicoloured, uniform and battered, they looked like enormous grubby bricks in some oversized, rusted Lego set.
The six officers arrived onboard and were met by a crew member. Bleary-eyed and unshaven, his eyes darting warily, guiltily about, he looked to Mickey not like a ship’s crewman but more like the kind of guy who operated fairground rides. Mickey never felt comfortable on fairground rides.
May flashed his warrant card once more. ‘The captain around?’
‘Got a warrant?’
‘Don’t need one.’ May pushed past him, made his way to the bridge.