‘I can’t imagine what it would feel like if something like that happened to William,’ Anne went on. ‘It must be simply awful for her. Have you had any luck finding out what happened to the mother? The one who was killed all those years ago?’
‘Not yet,’ Calder said. ‘But we haven’t given up.’
‘I wish you would.’
‘What?’
‘Give up.’
‘Why?’
‘All that kind of stuff is dangerous.’
‘It’s just asking questions.’
Anne snorted. ‘That’s what you said last time and you nearly got yourself killed. If the van Zyls do have enemies, they are probably powerful ones, and you’re better off staying well clear.’
‘Well, it’s nice to know my little sister is looking after me,’ Calder said.
Anne flicked the dish cloth in his face. ‘Someone’s got to.’
Calder grabbed another towel and flicked her back. She pushed him back against the wall and raised her knee towards his groin.
‘Now that’s a mean trick,’ Calder said. ‘I can remember you getting in big trouble for doing that before.’
‘That’s only because you went crying to Mum. Wimp.’
‘Hey, look out!’ Calder pushed past her to turn off the hot water, which was flowing out of the washing-up bowl.
They finished the washing up in companionable silence, and then Anne started opening cupboard doors.
‘What are you looking for?’ Calder asked.
‘Butter. Sugar. Eggs. Self-raising flour. Cranberry juice. Phoebe is determined to make you a cake when she gets back.’
‘Cranberry juice?’
‘I know. Phoebe swears it makes the cake taste better.’
‘Well, we’ve got eggs, sugar and a little butter. Probably not enough. No cranberry juice and no flour. They might have some in the shop in the village.’
Anne banged the cupboard doors shut. ‘I’ll go and see. Damn. William’s got the car.’
‘You can borrow mine,’ Calder said.
‘What, your Maserati?’ Anne’s eyes sparkled.
‘Sure,’ said Calder.
‘Will the insurance be OK?’
Calder shrugged. ‘It’s only to the village and back. Just watch how hard you put your foot down. It can be a bit quick.’
‘I’ll be careful,’ Anne said, grinning.
Calder tossed her the keys, and she grabbed her bag from where she had slung it on the chair, and went out the front door.
Calder put the last of the breakfast things away. Could he trust Anne in his Maserati? How much damage could she come to on the road to Hanham Staithe?
He heard the familiar sound of the car door opening just outside the kitchen by the side of the house.
Then silence.
Then a huge explosion ripped through the kitchen window, tearing his life apart.
At that moment Colonel Kobus Moolman buckled his seatbelt as the captain on the easyJet flight from Stansted announced that it would be ten minutes to landing at Amsterdam’s Schiphol Airport.
17
She wasn’t dead. Somehow, by some miracle, she wasn’t dead.
Calder ran outside to find the mangled wreckage of his car in flames, shards of metal scattered all over the road and garden. At first he thought his sister was in there. He considered diving into the flames to try to drag her out, but there was no point. He looked around him quickly. The car door was lying on top of the hedge at the side of the road. And in the field next to the house, about twenty yards away, was a bundle.
He leaped the fence and ran over to it. It was Anne, and she was alive. Her eyes were flickering. The bottom half of her body was a mangled mess, her legs were splayed at an odd angle, her face was splashed with blood and her clothes were badly ripped, but she was alive.
Her eyes focused on him and her lips moved. ‘Alex?’
‘Yes? Yes, Annie, it’s me.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, although in truth he did.
‘My legs... they hurt.’
‘Be still. I’ll call an ambulance. I’ll be back in a moment.’
‘Wait!’ It was scarcely more than a whisper, but it was an urgent one. Calder waited. ‘Phoebe. Robbie. Look after them. William will need help.’
‘You’ll be able to look after them yourself once we’ve got you to hospital,’ Calder said stupidly.
Anne frowned. She tried to speak, but she couldn’t. She shook her head. Calder realized his mistake. ‘Of course I’ll look after them, Annie. Of course I will.’
His sister relaxed and closed her eyes.
Calder ran inside the house to phone an ambulance and to grab a couple of towels to try to staunch the flow of blood. He sat by his sister in the field, cradling her head on his lap, waiting for the ambulance, willing her to live, praying for her to live, her warm blood soaking his clothes and seeping through to his own skin.
The next few hours were a blur. He followed the ambulance in a taxi from the village and called William on his mobile to tell him to meet them at the hospital. The hospital itself was emotional bedlam. Anne went straight into the operating theatre.
They were in the same small relatives’ room that Calder and Kim had waited in when Todd had been admitted. William was distraught, as were the children. No one could say whether Anne was going to live or die. Then William started laying into Calder. He was a balding, thickening man in his middle thirties, prematurely middle-aged, and normally mild mannered, friendly and slightly dull. But not now.
‘You know that bomb was meant for you?’ he demanded.
Calder nodded.
‘Well, why weren’t you in the fucking car then?’
‘She wanted to fetch some baking stuff from the village,’ Calder replied.
‘Why didn’t you go?’
‘I let her borrow the car.’
‘You should have taken it yourself.’
‘I didn’t know what was going to happen, William,’ Calder said gently.
William had begun pacing in a tight little pattern up and down, running his fingers through the remnants of his hair.
The two children watched their father, wide-eyed with fear. Calder sat slumped in a chair next to them. A television babbled on low volume in a corner. Calder got up and switched it off.
‘This wasn’t a random event, you know, Alex,’ William said. ‘There was a reason someone planted the bomb, wasn’t there?’
Calder took a deep breath. ‘I suppose so.’
‘What was it? Eh? Was it something to do with this van Zyl business?’
‘Probably,’ Calder admitted.
‘Probably? Probably! Of course it fucking well was!’ William lowered his face to Calder’s level, spittle on his lips. ‘Do you know that your sister spends half her life worried sick that you’re going to kill yourself? Either in a bloody little aeroplane, or messing around with gangsters where you’re not wanted. Well, it looks like she was right to be worried, wasn’t she? Except it wasn’t you who was blown up as a result of your little games. It was her.’ He straightened up and tears began to run down his cheeks. Phoebe took her cue from her father and began to cry quietly. Robbie, aged four, stuck out his chin, his stare shifting from his uncle to his father. Neither of them really comprehended yet what had happened to their mother.
‘I didn’t know she was in any danger,’ Calder said quietly. ‘If I had known—’
‘You’d have carried on anyway!’ William shouted. ‘You make me sick!’
Someone touched William’s elbow. It was Kim, together with an anxious-looking nurse who must have fetched her from Todd’s room.
‘William?’ she said softly.
William turned to her, blinking.