‘I’ve wanted to kill you for a long time, Harry, and until now I never thought I could. But you know something, Harry, I can.’
He had backed away, terror visible in his face, as his eyes widened in fear. Then she had pulled the trigger, and he stumbled two steps forward, then toppled into the pool. She had stood there, watching the petals of blood unfold from his head, as he floated face down, arms outstretched, the image that had never left her, and that she had felt driven to replicate, partly as a triumphal shout, a final exorcism — and partly as a confession that no one had heard.
She had then picked up her shoes, and walked back across the gardens, returning to the rented Mitsubishi jeep — Harry had agreed she should get one as close to Kendall’s as possible just in case anyone saw her driving in and out of the house for their meetings and to remove the paintings. Suddenly she knew how fortunate that was. Sonja could not have cared less if the phoney, odious Kendall ended up paying the penalty for Harry Nathan’s death.
No one else could possibly be incriminated, she had thought — but Cindy had been her one mistake. She had thought Nathan had told her on the phone, when they arranged the meeting, that he and Cindy had had a fight and she had left. It was only when she had heard the girl’s scream after the killing that she had realized that she must have misunderstood. He must have said that Cindy had threatened to go, or was about to. Poor Cindy, she had thought. She had had no desire to see the pathetic, abused girl stand trial, and it must have been fate that had ensured she had not only met a local private investigator a few weeks previously but had remembered the woman’s name. She had stopped the jeep at once, had got the number from Information, then called Lorraine Page’s office from a public phone.
Her plane trip back to New York was, as always, booked in a different name, and she had carried the paintings like posters in rolls of cardboard. She was never stopped or questioned.
By the time she had returned to the Hamptons, the news had broken that Harry Nathan had been murdered and Cindy Nathan arrested. Next day, it had transpired that things were worse than Sonja had thought: the gun she had used had been Cindy’s.
After that she had just sat back and watched the aftermath. Now there was no one left to hate, no one left to blame. She had told the world of her guilt, but no one had noticed, and it was over at last, she thought. Quietus est.
Rosie was out of breath as she joined Burton and Rooney — she’d rushed to the hospital as soon as she had heard.
‘What happened? Is she all right?’
Rooney sat her down. ‘There’ve been complications. Her breathing has deteriorated, and her temperature’s started rising. She’s holding her own, but now they’re worrying that her heart’s been under too much strain.’
Jake took Rosie’s hand. ‘Mike’s on his way in, and the girls. It’s just a matter of time now.’
‘No, no, I don’t believe it — she was getting better. They said her breathing wouldn’t stabilize — well, it did. She’ll get over this relapse — it’s just a kind of a relapse, right? Look, I know her, I know her, and...’ Rosie’s face crumpled but she kept on talking about how she and Lorraine had first met — how ill Lorraine had been, how she was so thin and weak that no one would have ever believed she could recover, quit her alcohol addiction...
‘It’s part of the problem, Rosie, sweetheart. Her body took so much punishment for so long, it’s just tired out.’ Rosie started to sob and Rooney gripped her hand tightly. ‘Now you listen to me, her daughters are coming in, and we don’t want them upset and scared. Just pull yourself together — there’s been enough tears, and you don’t want Lorraine to see you crying.’
‘She can’t see me, she’s in a coma,’ Rosie said, wiping her nose.
‘I know, but nobody knows if that means she can’t hear. So dry your eyes, and go freshen up.’
Rosie went to the powder room, and Rooney felt exhausted. He had no tears left to cry, and he looked at the quiet, composed Jake. ‘You okay?’
Jake was far from okay, but he nodded, and Rooney sighed heavily. ‘You know, maybe it’s for the best. I mean, it’s likely she’s got brain damage, and I wouldn’t want to see her all crumpled up, unable to do anything for herself. I know she wouldn’t want that either.’
Both men stood up as Dr Hudson came out of the unit and gestured to them to sit down. He asked if Lorraine’s daughters were coming in to see her, and Jake said they were on their way.
‘You want it straight?’ he said, pulling at the collar of his white coat. They both nodded. ‘I’ve always been level with you, and I’ve got to admit I didn’t think we’d be able to hold her for this long, but this recent development... Her organs are just giving way, and I am afraid there’s nothing more we can do. It really is a matter of hours. She’s in no pain, but her heart is now in trouble, and what with that and the cumulative malfunction of her kidneys and lungs...’
‘How long?’ Jake said quietly.
‘I doubt if she’ll last the night. I’m very, very sorry.’
Jake stood up and looked at Rooney. ‘I’d like some time alone with her, before her daughters arrive.’ He turned his gaze to the doctor. ‘Can I go in?’
The doctor nodded: the staff were already making Lorraine look more presentable by removing some of the drips and machines from the room, which was already screened off from the rest of the unit to give more privacy. ‘The nurse will come out in a minute, but I’ll be here if you need me. Just tell the duty nurse, or Reception to buzz me.’ The doctor hovered for a moment, then walked away from the tiny overheated anteroom with a grave nod.
Five minutes later, when Rosie had returned, a nurse came out. She smiled cheerfully and held the door ajar. ‘You can see her now. Thank you for all the gifts.’
‘They were from Lorraine,’ Rosie said firmly. The nurse moved away, and Rosie saw as she went in that the little Christmas tree had been taken down.
Sonja and Arthur exchanged their vows in a quiet ceremony, with only one other person as a witness, a clerk from the mayor’s office, a small, balding man who had obviously performed this function on innumerable occasions. He gave them an encouraging smile, signed the register with a flourish, and wished them every happiness in their future life. They walked out arm in arm, Sonja’s bouquet of roses matching Arthur’s buttonhole.
‘Holy shit, they gone an’ put my nightdress on back to front,’ Lorraine said, then angrily told Burton that one of the nurses should be fired as she had a rough bedside manner. He drew up a chair and sat close to the bed.
‘I have to say you must have shares in a florist!’ Lorraine joked. ‘I mean, this is getting to be ridiculous. When I get out of here, I’m taking that bunch with me, the lilies — I always liked lilies, it’s the smell. I’ve been meaning to ask you, though it’s a bit embarrassing, do I smell? I know they clean me up, but that fucking nurse, the one with the frizzy hair, I don’t think she’s a pro. She almost had me out of the bed earlier you know, whipping out the fucking tubes as if she was playing an organ.’ He touched her hand, and let one finger trace the dark bruises where the needles and drips had been attached. ‘I know — they think they’re digging for gold trying to find a vein.’ She laughed, then frowned.
‘I worry about wearing this ring — I don’t know if you can trust these nurses. I remember when my dad was in hospital, you couldn’t leave fifty bucks. Mind you, he wasn’t in a private ward like this. Thank Christ I blew so much on a private medical plan.’