I shrugged. “Nothing,” I said, tired myself, like we’d been physically sparring. “What would it solve? It wouldn’t make me feel any better to confront her now, and it certainly wouldn’t do her any good. What’s the point?”
He nodded a little at that, turning it over in his mind. “But it doesn’t explain why Meyer didn’t come forwards and speak up for you afterwards. At the time you felt that the amount of detail exposed could only have come from him. That pressure had been brought to bear from a higher authority and he’d capitulated in order to preserve his own career.”
“It wouldn’t have been so difficult for them to piece it together, not once they knew what they were looking for,” I said. “Besides, like I said, they posted him. Sean didn’t know what happened to me, nobody saw fit to tell him, and he still doesn’t know.” I pinned my father with the same kind of hard stare he so often used himself, keeping my chin up. “I want to keep it that way.”
“Why?” There was no anger in the question, only curiosity.
“For the same reason I won’t say anything to my mother,” I said, my voice neutral. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good now to open up old wounds. They didn’t give Sean an easy time of it afterwards, either, and for a while he blamed me for that without knowing why. I think I’m beginning to earn his respect again. I don’t want that to change to pity.”
My father nodded again. “That’s very – noble – of you,” he said. He stood, straightened up, and the authority he’d always carried was back, and the arrogance.
He snapped the catches shut on his bag, lifted it, and moved towards the door. “I know you think we’ve treated you poorly over this, Charlotte,” he said, with the faintest trace of a smile playing round his mouth, “but looking at the way you’ve turned out your mother and I must have done something right, somewhere along the line while you were growing up, don’t you think?”
Twenty-three
I took over watching duty from Jacob and Clare at around two the following morning, and they went gratefully upstairs to bed. I wasn’t bargaining on getting much sleep myself, too aware of every unconscious shift and murmur that Sean made.
At least, as my father had said, he’d had enough morphine to allow him to get some rest. He seemed so much younger when he was asleep, so much more vulnerable. I never thought I’d see him with his guard down so completely.
I sat in one of the armchairs to one side of the fireplace and watched him with my chin resting on my hand. The fire was warm, the crackle and dance of the flames soothing.
Eventually, they got to me.
***
The next thing I knew Clare was gently shaking my shoulder. Weak grey daylight was trickling in through the open curtains, and there was the splattery drum of rain against the outside of the glass. She offered coffee in a whisper.
I nodded thankfully, trying to roll the crick out of my neck and, with a last glance at Sean’s sleeping form, I followed her through to the kitchen. He didn’t seem to have moved an inch since last night. I’d no worries that he was suddenly going to go walkabout now.
“I checked him before I woke you,” Clare said as she bustled round the kitchen. “He doesn’t seem feverish or anything.” She plonked a freshly-brewed mug of strong coffee in front of me at the table.
“Is Jacob still asleep?”
“Oh yes.” She smiled. “He does late nights, and he does early mornings, but not both together. I thought I’d better give him a bit longer to come round or he’ll be grouchy all day.”
“Clare I’m very grateful to you, you know – to both of you,” I said awkwardly, in a rush, “for all you did last night. I had no right to ask you, really. Especially not after—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, cutting me off as she slid into a seat opposite. She flashed a quick grin. “Tell me everything that’s going on and I’ll consider it a debt paid.”
I told her as much as I could, about Jav’s tip-off, our visit to the building site, and stumbling over Langford’s body. She made shocked exclamations of surprise, and then demanded answers I just didn’t have about who was responsible, and why.
I gave her the bare bones of our escape, too, aware again of just how big a chance I’d taken, what a difficult position I’d put my friends into, by bringing Sean here.
Clare digested the information in silence for a moment, then said, “Is Sean the one who hurt you? I mean, you’ve never said, but somehow I always knew there must have been someone.”
I was taken aback by the question, but tried not to show it. “Yes, well no, but he was all part of it.” I shrugged. “Sort of. It’s a long story.”
Clare nodded and sipped her coffee. “I could tell there was something when you brought him in here last night. I mean, I know more than anyone how far out on a limb you’ll go for your friends, Charlie. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead,” she said, and her face was grave. “But this was something more. You had this air of—” She flapped a hand while she searched for the right words. “Controlled panic. That’s the closest I can get to describing it. Are you still in love with him?”
Her eyes slid away over my shoulder and I thought she’d embarrassed herself with the question. Then I caught the suggestion of a movement behind me. When I turned it was to find Sean in the kitchen doorway, leaning heavily on the frame.
He was still wearing last night’s jeans which had dried blood sheening the left thigh, but no shirt. The square of white dressing was still taped efficiently to his shoulder. I skimmed my eyes over him as he came further into the room. He was holding himself awkwardly and was still pale, but his eyes were clear, and his gait was steady.
Clare jumped up, a faint flush lighting her cheekbones and the tips of her ears. “I’ll make fresh coffee,” she muttered.
Sean treated her to one of his brighter smiles. “I didn’t have a chance to thank you last night,” he said, “for offering me sanctuary.”
I suppressed a grumpy sigh as I formally introduced them. Sean clasped her proffered hand with enough deliberation to refresh the blush that was still lingering round Clare’s features. I took one look and knew she was smitten.
She hurriedly refilled the polished copper kettle on the top of the Aga and then, mumbling something about seeing if Jacob was up, she all but ran out of the room. The pair of us were left alone together in a silence that was deafening.
Sean eased himself into the chair my friend had just vacated. “So, Charlie,” he said quietly, “are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Still in love with me?” It was said lightly, without a hint of conceit. I saw the curve of his lips and for a moment I was tempted not to treat the question seriously, but then I took in the clenched fingers and decided against levity.
I rubbed a hand across my eyes. They felt full of grit. I was bone tired and my brain was functioning strictly on the lower levels. This was just not the time to trawl through ancient history.
Briefly, I leaned my face down towards the tabletop, resting my chin on my fist while I considered. “No, I don’t think so,” I said at last, seriously. “What we had was a long time ago, Sean.” I raised my head to meet his eyes. “Whether you intended to or not, you hurt me more than I ever could have imagined.”
As he started to speak I cut him off, keeping my voice admirably level. “But, I got over it, I moved on. We’re neither of us the same people we were then. It would be a mistake to try and go back.”