(1995) By Any Name (36 page)

‘He’s hurt?’

‘He was shot.’

‘Major Simmonds said it was minor.’

‘The wound was more severe than he appreciated at the time.’

‘What will happen to John now?’

‘No effort will be spared to rehabilitate him. I can only offer my apologies that you were dragged into this affair. You will receive compensation for the distress you’ve suffered. Now, if you’ll come this way, Dr Santer, we can debrief you.’

She took one last look at John, and followed Captain Wentworth out of the office. There wasn’t anything else she could do.

EPILOGUE

‘And then there’s Mr Hyde… ’

‘Is he the last one?’ Elizabeth interrupted wearily.

‘He is,’ her registrar answered sympathetically. Dr Santer was the most efficient and considerate consultant she’d worked for, and she looked completely drained.

‘Thank goodness. I’m whacked. Up all last night.’

‘Poor you,’ the registrar commiserated.

‘I actually enjoyed it.’ Elizabeth flicked through the patient’s notes. ‘Clinical depression… not responding… switch his medication to these and keep a careful eye to see how he goes.’ She scribbled a new prescription. ‘I’ll examine him on Monday.’

‘Hope you get a night’s sleep before then.’

‘Thank you. You on this weekend?’

‘Philip is, first time.’

‘See he gets my sympathy along with my home number.’ Elizabeth picked up a bundle of files from her desk and dropped them into her briefcase. She looked out of the window. Perhaps it was the foul weather that reminded her of the events of fifteen months ago. But hardly a day went by without her remembering “John West” and the few frantic days they’d shared. She frequently wondered where he was, and if the army had succeeded in “rehabilitating” him as Captain Wentworth had phrased it. It would have been so easy to kill him after she’d left Stirling Lines. No one would be any the wiser. It was a terrifying thought.

It was hardly surprising she often thought of John when there were so many reminders. And not only in the hospital. On the weekly visits she made to Dave’s wife who was still broken-hearted and consumed by grief. In seeing the twins growing up without a father.

She by-passed the lift and took the stairs, recalling how “John” had dragged her down them with a gun pressed to her head. Sometimes she wondered if it had really happened or if it had all been a crazy nightmare.

Perhaps it seemed unreal because the statement she had signed prohibited her from talking about it, to anyone. She wished it had prevented the press from hounding her. One of the tabloids had offered her enough money to retire in style, not that she would have taken them up on the offer even if she’d been in a position to take it.

She raised her umbrella as she left the building.

Hailstones pounded down, bouncing off the nylon cover and the tarmac, stinging her legs. Her car, a small – very small, new run-about was parked in one of the vast bays reserved for senior consultants. If it hadn’t been for Dave’s death she might have been pleased with her promotion. The hospital authorities had never replaced him. When she’d returned to work a week after being released from Stirling Lines, she’d assumed the responsibility for both jobs until they had appointed a new registrar and officially given her Dave’s post and title. But she couldn’t help feeling that she had achieved her promotion not by merit, but by stepping into a dead man’s shoes.

Unlocking the car, she flung her briefcase into the back, closed her umbrella and took off her coat, because she couldn’t stand driving with it on.

‘Isn’t it somewhat cold and wet to be undressing in the open?’

She whirled around. ‘John.’

‘Richard.’

‘I know. Richard McKenna.’

‘You’d better get in the car before you get soaked.’

‘And you?’

‘I’m fine here. Unlike you, my umbrella is still up.’

She sat in the driver’s seat. Closing the door she wound down the window. ‘You really are all right?’

‘As you see.’

‘They told me you would be, but… ’

‘Wentworth said he had trouble convincing you that I wasn’t going to be shot at dawn.’

‘Peculiar lot you work for.’

He smiled briefly, but his eyes remained cold.

‘He told me that your wife and daughter had been murdered. I’m so dreadfully sorry.’

‘Thank you.’ Hailstones rattled over the roof of her car accentuating the silence. ‘But,’ he grimaced,

‘contrary to the nursery rhyme, the king’s or rather the queen’s men managed to put this Humpty Dumpty together again.’

‘Did they – really?’ she asked earnestly.

‘There are some cracks but they don’t show – most of the time,’ he qualified.

‘Do they know you’ve come to see me?’

‘Even soldiers are allowed private lives.’

‘You’re still a soldier?’

‘I wouldn’t know how to do anything else.’ He looked down at her. ‘I’ve managed to relegate most of what happened, to the past. You’re the exception. I wanted to thank you for believing in me when no-one else did.’

‘Anyone in my position would have done the same.’

‘I doubt anyone else would have lasted the pace.’

He turned his collar up making it difficult for her to see his face in the gloom. ‘I thought that perhaps we could have dinner somewhere and say goodbye properly.’

‘I could cook you dinner at my place.’

‘I’d rather take you out.’

‘I’d still have to go home and change. Would you mind giving me a lift?’

‘You have your car,’ he reminded warily.

‘It’s only a short drive. I’ll get a taxi and pick it up later.’ She didn’t want to lose him all over again.

Without giving him time to reply she lifted her coat and briefcase from the back and locked the door. He opened the passenger door of his Mercedes.

‘There is one thing I want to make clear.’ He turned the ignition. ‘This is only thank you and goodbye.’

‘You’re going somewhere?’

‘A short leave.’

‘And afterwards?’ she pressed.

‘An assignment.’

‘Filling your days with work.’

‘Like you after your husband died.’

‘I don’t think anyone ever really recovers from losing someone they love. Not entirely.’

‘Love isn’t enough, is it? I love – loved Bonnie and Rachel as much as it is possible for me to love anyone. But I couldn’t keep them safe.’

‘You can’t blame yourself for their murder.’

‘They would be alive if I baked bread for a living.’

‘That doesn’t make their deaths your fault.’

‘You sound like a shrink.’

‘I am one, remember. Turn left at the gates,’ she directed as they left the hospital grounds. ‘Tell me about Bonnie… ’ she glanced at him in the darkness.

‘I’m sorry; I keep wanting to call you, John. Richard will take some getting used to.’

He recalled the things she had told him about her life with Joseph. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

‘Where did you meet?’

‘America, she was American we both worked for NASA.’

‘Love at first sight?’

‘For me. I was never too sure about her.’

‘You’ve seen Bonnie’s family since?’

‘We buried her and Rachel on her father’s farm in Virginia. I spent some time with her parents and sister. They took it hard.’

‘But not as hard as you.’ She pushed her hands deep into her pockets. She longed to reach out and comfort him, but she sensed that he didn’t want her sympathy. Not yet. And perhaps not ever.

‘I remember you telling me how difficult it was for you to face your husband’s family after his death.

How they blamed you for his accident, simply because he’d changed forces and followed you across the country when you were appointed registrar.’

‘And Bonnie’s family blame you, because you were the reason she was in England?’

‘They didn’t say so, not in so many words, but I think they do.’

‘You can’t go through life carrying so much guilt, Richard. It’s destructive, take it from someone who’s tried, and knows what she’s talking about. And that’s not the shrink but the widow talking.’

‘It’s not the same for you, as it is for me. Bonnie and Rachel were murdered because of the job I do. I still do it. Nothing’s changed. If I allow anyone to get close to me again, they could be killed for the same reason. Which is why I’d rather be alone.’

‘I’m still not sure what all that business in Brecon was about.’

‘Better you don’t find out.’

‘And your Arabic?’

‘As you’ve signed the Official Secrets Act I can tell you that I’ve spent a great deal of time working in the Middle East.’

‘Next right. It’s the house at the end; you’ll see it when you turn into the drive.’

‘Very nice,’ he complimented. He drew up outside a Victorian rectory set back from the road in a large garden.

‘Joseph thought so. He fell in love with the place, although it didn’t look anything like this when he first saw it. But he recognized its potential and wanted to renovate it. After he died I moved in and used his insurance money to do what he would have done if he’d lived.’

‘Bonnie and I used to dream of a place like this, but all we ever lived in was other people’s houses.’

‘You have the flat in Brecon. It is yours?’ she asked.

‘Mine and my brother’s.’ He gave her a small smile. ‘His name is Martin. Bonnie only went there once.’

‘You mentioned you’re on leave. Is that where you’re going?’

‘I thought I’d do some hill walking.’

‘When you introduced me to the sport I didn’t think much of it.’

‘It can be fun when you’re not being hunted,’ he protested. ‘Believe me there’s nothing like going back to the flat after a day spent walking on the hills. It’s marvellous to soak in a hot bath, eat a good meal, down a few drinks… ’

‘I like the sound of the after activities.’

‘We never got round to too many of those, did we.’

‘Except in the house in Libanus.’

‘Compensation was paid for the food and the use of the guest house.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Elizabeth opened the car door and dashed through the rain into the porch. The door was opened by a plump, middle-aged smiling woman.

‘Sorry I’m late, Betty,’ Elizabeth apologized.

‘That’s all right, Dr Santer, I’m not doing anything tonight – or most nights come to that.’

‘Everything all right?’

‘Perfect. The little darling’s been no trouble today, not like yesterday. I’ve made a nice chicken casserole for your tea, you never take the time to eat properly, you’re way too thin – Ooh sorry, I didn’t know you had company.’ She looked Richard up and down when he joined them in the hall and gave Elizabeth a sly wink.

‘Betty, this is Richard McKenna,’ Elizabeth introduced them. ‘Betty’s my housekeeper,’ she explained.

‘I was going to say the casserole would stretch to two nights, but seeing as you have company, enjoy it while it’s fresh.’

‘Thanks, Betty, I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘Starve and live in squalor,’ Betty replied cheerfully. ‘Have a good evening.’ She picked up her hat and coat from the stand and left.

‘Who’s the “little darling who’s been no trouble”?’

Richard asked. ‘You told me you didn’t have any children.’

Elizabeth opened the door and went into a cosy, brightly furnished living room, resplendent with Turkish tapestries and carpets. There was a playpen in the middle of the floor. ‘Richard McKenna meet John Santer.’ She didn’t dare look at Richard’s face. ‘I would say I’m sorry, but I’m not,’ she continued defiantly, taking the wooden bricks the child was playing with and setting them down before picking him up.

The baby gurgled, smiled and clasped his hands over her face. She was glad, it gave her further excuse not to look at Richard. ‘I wasn’t prepared for what happened in that guesthouse. I didn’t even realise I was pregnant until two months afterwards and when I did, I considered abortion and rejected the idea. It was nothing to do with you,’ she added hastily. ‘More to do with losing Joseph, and not only Joseph but the children we’d intended to have when the time was right. So, to cut a long story short, I decided to keep John. I hope you don’t mind the idea of him being here.’ She hugged the baby. ‘It’s not as though either of us want anything from you. I’m managing very well financially, and in every other way. Betty is marvellous… we really are fine… ’

Unable to bear the silence a moment longer she forced herself to look at him.

His eyes were damp and there was a strange expression on his face that she couldn’t decipher. He turned away from her and walked to the door.

She clung to the baby and whispered. ‘I’m sorry.’

Instead of opening the door as she’d expected him to, he whirled around. They looked at one another for what seemed like an eternity before he opened his arms – to both of them.

THE END

About Katherine John

Katherine John is the daughter of a Prussian refugee and a Welsh father. Born in Pontypridd, she studied English and Sociology at Swansea College, then lived in America and Europe before returning to Wales and a variety of jobs, while indulging her love of writing.

She lives with her family on the Gower Peninsula, near Swansea.

Also By Katherine John

WITHOUT TRACE

In the chilly half-light of dawn a bizarre Pierrot figure waits in the shadows of a deserted stretch of motorway. The costumed hitchhiker’s victim is a passing motorist. The murder, cold-blooded, brutal.

Without motive.

Doctors at the local hospital Tim and Daisy Sherringham are blissfully happy. The perfect couple.

When an emergency call rouses Tim early one morning, he vanishes on the way from their flat to the hospital.

And Daisy is plunged into a nightmare of terror and doubt . . .

ISBN 1905170262

Price £6.99

MIDNIGHT MURDERS

Compton Castle is a Victorian psychiatric hospital long overdue for demolition. Its warrens of rooms and acres of grounds, originally designed as a sanctuary for the mentally ill, now provide the ideal stalking ground for a serial killer.

Physically and mentally battered after his last case, Sergeant Trevor Joseph is a temporary inmate – but the hospital loses all therapeutic benefit when a corpse is dug out of a flowerbed. Then more bodies are found; young, female and both linked to the hospital.