‘Oh, that’s kind of you, but there’s really no need to bother-’
‘It’s no bother,’ he said, quickly.
‘It just might be… a bit… You know,’ she said, uncomfortably. She did not want him anywhere near Ryan, she realised. As if Mark might get tainted somehow, stained by her toxic feelings, the poisonous shreds of her past life.
‘Awkward?’ he suggested. Leah shrugged, unable to meet his eye. She suddenly felt horribly guilty, as though she’d been caught cheating.
‘Maybe.’
‘Look, I won’t come in or anything. I’ll just chauffeur you. By the sounds of it, you’ll need a drink when you get there. OK?’
Leah glanced up at him and smiled. ‘OK. Thanks.’
‘So, what will you do now?’ Mark asked, as they headed east along the M4 the next day. The journey had been odd and uncomfortable; Leah’s excitement at showing Ryan what she’d found clashing with the strained silences in the car.
‘Go home, I suppose,’ she said. ‘Back to London to start work on my book. I need to speak to my agent – and start touting for a publisher.’ She glanced over at him. Mark nodded, smiled, said nothing. ‘What about you?’ Leah asked.
‘I should think about starting over, I suppose. Get job hunting, stop festering away at Dad’s place. Put it on the market, perhaps.’ His voice betrayed no real enthusiasm at the prospect.
‘Mind if I come back and take some pictures before you do? For my book?’
‘You can come back any time you want, Leah,’ he said gently, and Leah shifted in her seat, fiddling awkwardly with the file of papers in her lap.
‘I hope it won’t affect the asking price – me revealing to the world that a murderer, his adulterous accomplice and a theosophical hoaxer once lived there!’
‘All publicity is good publicity, right?’ Mark laughed. ‘I don’t think it’s very fair to call Hester his adulterous accomplice, mind you.’
‘No, it’s not. Don’t worry – I’ll make sure readers know how much she struggled with it,’ Leah assured him. They drove on in silence, and Leah thought of five different conversations to start, abandoning each one in turn.
‘Here – this is the one,’ she said, leaning forward in her seat with a sudden storm of nerves cramping her stomach. Mark pulled into a smart, wide tarmac driveway flanked by twin five-bar gates. The house was an immaculate neo-Georgian pile, three storeys high, with a long rank of garages topped by a brass weathercock that gleamed in the sunshine.
‘Nice,’ Mark remarked. ‘Not short of a bob or two, then?’
‘Or three, or four,’ Leah agreed, neutrally. She unclipped her seat belt, flicked her hair back behind her shoulders and licked her lips nervously. She drew breath to thank Mark for the lift, but he cut her off.
‘If you want me to pick you up again later…’
‘No, no. It’s fine. It’s a five-minute cab ride to the station, and I’ll head back to The Swing Bridge from there. Thanks so much for bringing me, and for… all your help, Mark. You’ve been fantastic.’
‘Perhaps not quite fantastic enough,’ he said quietly.
Leah swallowed, pretended not to hear the remark, not to understand what he was asking. Her heart was high in her throat.
‘Well, I’ll be back, anyway. Before too long – I’ll need to get into the Newbury police files again, and the newspaper archives…’
‘Sure.’ He looked away, rubbing one hand along his jaw. ‘Look, are you sure you don’t want me to wait for a while? I don’t mind. It might be… a bit difficult in there. With all the family around and everything…’
‘I’m sure it will be. But I’ll be fine, really – don’t wait. I don’t know how long this will take, and I hate to think of you just sitting around, waiting for me…’ Leah flushed, the words suddenly seeming to be about something far more important than a lift back to Berkshire. Mark watched her intently, but Leah could find nothing else to say.
‘If you’re sure,’ he said. Leah leant over and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was warm, slightly rough for want of a shave. The smell of him sent an odd pang into the pit of her stomach. Her pulse was speeding, thoughts confused.
‘Thanks, Mark. I’ll… see you soon.’ She got out of the car before he could speak again. Her chest felt odd, too tight, and the familiar excited dread at seeing Ryan washed through her. Behind her, she heard Mark turn the car around in the driveway and pull back out into the road. The sound made her pause, turn quickly to catch a glimpse of him. With him gone she felt suddenly naked and vulnerable. She halted on the front step, frozen, uncertain.
Just then the door opened, and Ryan smiled down at her.
‘I thought I heard a car. You’re bang on time, as ever. Come in. Did you find out who our mystery man is? I’m dying to know,’ he said.
‘I… did,’ Leah said, suddenly breathless. Her eyes scoured his face, the familiar, wonderful lines of it. And something seemed different. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. He looked unreal, somehow. Counterfeit. His scruffy hair and playful, schoolboy smile too young for him; only skin-deep.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come, Leah,’ he said softly, as if sensing her hesitation. He tapped the file she carried with one finger. ‘Is this it? What you’ve found out? Come in, why don’t you – don’t hang about on the step.’ Leah took one heavy step over the threshold, but then stopped again.
‘Yes. Yes, it is. Ryan, I… I need to talk to you. About what happened in Belgium…’ she started to say, but suddenly a tumbling female laugh and a flash of chestnut hair further along the hallway stopped her. She saw Ryan’s face tighten, the smile grow slightly strained. Saw him watching her carefully.
‘Is that Anna?’
‘Leah, don’t start-’
‘Don’t start? Don’t start?’ Anger flashed through her like a lightning strike. ‘You didn’t say she’d be here. I thought she was still in the US?’
‘She was – she is. But she was hardly going to miss her father’s birthday party, was she?’
‘Her step-father’s birthday party,’ Leah corrected. ‘Quite an important distinction, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Not in this instance. Look, Leah. My parents really want to see you. They’ve missed you – we all have. Won’t you just come in and… forget about the other stuff? Now is not the time to make a scene.’ He used the gently cajoling tone she would once have found impossible to resist. That she had found impossible to resist in his room in Belgium. Now it sounded wheedling, pathetic. He took her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles. She waited for the burning sensation of his touch, for the shivers it would send flooding out over her skin. They didn’t come.
‘You’re right,’ she said, calmly now. She pulled her hand away. ‘I’ve no more scenes to make. Not for you, anyway. You were sleeping with your step-sister behind my back the entire time we were together, and then you bullied me into keeping it secret for you. Into lying to your whole family – who, I might add, I’ve always liked and respected, and who certainly don’t deserve to have a son like you. What kind of arsehole are you, Ryan?’ She shook her head, incredulously. Behind them there was movement in the corridor, and the shocked silence of somebody who’s heard something they can hardly believe.
‘Leah, keep your voice down for fuck’s sake!’ Ryan hissed furiously.
‘Too late, by the looks of it,’ she said coldly. ‘Goodbye, Ryan. Don’t expect to hear from me, and really – really – don’t contact me again.’ She turned her back on him and his incredulous expression, walked down the steps and towards the gate. There she paused, and turned. ‘The soldier’s name is Robin Durrant. He was a convict. You can trace any remaining relatives from that information, but I doubt there’ll be any. And for the rest – you’ll have to wait until my book comes out!’ she shouted.