Betrayal (48 page)

'Yes,' he said gently. 'It is enough.'

'I knew because I'd seen the man in charge of the security firm at our house a couple of times.'

'The security people were themselves involved?'

'Not those poor drivers, but their boss certainly was.'

'I see. And you will still continue to live with your husband?' 'What choice have I got?' she demanded, her voice harsh with the effort of keeping back the tears. 'Can you imagine him letting me leave? Besides, he wants another son.'

Renato flinched. He didn't like imagining her in the arms of Neal Gueras. He'd been pleased to learn about his mistress, imagining this meant he no longer slept with his wife.

'You will let him give you another child?' He sounded almost contemptuous.

'How the hell can I stop him? I am his wife, and if I don't choose to give him a son willingly he'll get one by force. I don't enjoy violence so I let him get on with it. You're disgusted, aren't you? I can see it in your face but what else can I do?'

'I find it equally disgusting. There are times when I wonder how long I can live like this, but I chose it. Chose it of my own free will because I honestly thought that I could make him a good wife and that although I didn't love him I'd always respect him.'

'I don't respect him any more and I certainly don't love him, but there's still Jessica. Without Neal I couldn't have afforded the therapy that's made such a difference. And you see, Jessica will always be there. Who else would take her on?'

'I would,' he said softly.

Lisa shook her head. 'Don't say that. I can't get away from Neal and you'll only make my life more difficult if you tell me that things could be better.'

'But they could! I wouldn't keep Jessica shut away on her own, she'd be part of the family. How can you tell yourself that she's having the best treatment when you scarcely see her? And you don't do you? He hates you even to talk about her, I can see it in his eyes. She's his weapon against you, nothing more.'

'Stop it! I don't want to hear about all the wonderful things you'd do for her. You're not my husband, Neal is. And if I ever did get free of him, you don't honestly think I'd get involved with another man, do you?'

'Don't let him spoil your whole life, Lisa. It is true that to leave him will not be easy, but neither will it be impossible, providing it is done carefully and with good planning. If in time you could care for me, I would spend the rest of my life showing you what a good husband is like.'

'No you wouldn't!'

He smiled. 'Why so sure?'

She fiddled with her wedding ring, twisting it round and round on her finger. 'I'd be a disappointment to you.'

'In what way?'

'In the most important way, according to my husband.' 'You cannot cook!'

She hesitated. 'I'm no good in bed,' she admitted flatly, certain that this would silence him.

Renato wondered how much it had cost her to tell him that. 'That is a personal experience between two people who care for each other,' he said at last. 'There is no question of being either good or bad at it. You cannot be good on your own. It is always possible that you are not having the best of help!'

'I wasn't much good with my first husband either,' she said defiantly, determined to alienate him.

'There is more to married life than bed.'

'You wouldn't think so to listen to Neal these days. You can't imagine what it's like to hear a constant litany of your faults as a bed partner.'

'I think I can.'

'You wouldn't be any better!' she retorted, angry at him for what he'd made her reveal. 'According to my husband you wouldn't waste five minutes of your time on me if you knew what I was really like.'

'He tell you this?'

'Yes. I understand you're something of an expert, so I'd certainly be a terrible disappointment. It's lucky you'll never know, isn't it?' 'Do not do this to yourself. Naturally your husband wishes you to feel a failure as a woman, this is yet another way to keep you with him. Now, listen carefully to me. As you know, he is a highly organised and efficient criminal. His entire organisation exists from the profits of crimes. Protection rackets, prostitution, drugs… these are the business commodities that really bring in the money. The rest is just a front.

'He is ruthless and clever, but over the past few years he has been over-reaching himself. My family in particular are incensed by his attacks on our banks. We… '

'You're all crooks too,' interrupted Lisa.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. 'In what way, crooks?'

'You belong to some masonic lodge that goes round killing its own members.'

'You are thinking of the Banco Ambrosiano scandal. Possibly not all P2 members are blemish free, just as not all of your masons here are beyond reproach, but that is not the same as making a living from criminal activities, and for myself I know nothing of the Roberto Calvi affair.'

'I wouldn't expect you to admit it!'

He sighed. She was so much on the defensive it was impossible to reach her. He also sensed that she didn't want to be reached. That she was fighting to keep her hold on sanity and any interference from him could prove too much for her.

'Listen to me. You must naturally do what you think best for your children's safety, but should the time ever come when you need a safe place to hide then I can give you the key to such a house right now. Here, take it, the address is on the tag. Memorise it and I will tear up the tag before you go. That house will be empty day and night, and if you pick up the telephone in the hall you will immediately be put through to me, wherever I happen to be. Now, for my peace of mind, will you take it?'

'I think you're over-dramatizing the situation, but since it seems to matter so much I suppose I should.'

Renato stood up and Lisa rose too, not wishing to have him towering over her. Taking her right hand in his, he gently caressed it with his thumb. 'I do not wish you to go back to your husband,' he murmured, 'but as you have pointed out there is no other option open right now. However, one day it will be different and then I will be free to tell you how I feel about you.'

She looked at his long, slender fingers and for once she didn't imagine them tightening round her wrist or twisting her arms as Neal's so frequently did. Instead she imagined them holding her safely, shutting out all the terror and deception that was her life, and without realising it she swayed towards him.

He put his hands lightly on her shoulders, his eyes taking in the small bruise on her throat and his brain registering the fragility of her bones beneath his hands. 'You know that I love you?' he asked.

'No!'

'You must have realised.'

She shook her head. 'Sometimes I wondered but I wasn't sure.' 'Then be sure. It will not always be like this. Eventually you will look back on this time as a bad memory, nothing more, but you must trust me. Do you trust me, Lisa?'

'I want to, but I've made too many mistakes to have any faith in my own judgement.'

'You do trust me enough to use the safe house if you need it? Promise me that.' His eyes spoke more clearly than his words and she felt a flicker of hope.

'I promise I'll go there if I need a place to hide.'

'You will not listen to your husband's destructive lies any more?' 'You don't understand. He's telling the truth!'

Renato sighed, realising she'd already accepted her husband's criticisms. 'Does he abuse you physically?' he demanded.

'He's too clever for that.'

'He is under pressure. Men do not always behave normally at such times. Now I think you must go and collect your lovely dress.'

As his hands left her shoulders she felt as though he was casting her away and had to suppress a whimper of fear. Renato touched her lightly beneath the chin. 'Don't worry. You are no longer alone.'

Before he could say more she turned on her heel and left the room. His fingers seemed to have left burning marks on her shoulders and she felt limp from the sudden release of tension. Yet despite what he'd said, she didn't believe she'd ever need his safe house, or consider sharing his life in the future because she couldn't imagine it would ever be feasible. What she did believe was that it might have been possible for her to be happy with him, and that was a bitter thing to accept.

Leaving Brown's by the back entrance she walked to Carol's old shop. The entire premises had been stripped, the windows daubed with white paint and a large 'For Sale' sign was suspended from the flat above. She wished that her friend had kept in touch; there was no way now in which she could contact her again.

When Mike drew up beside her she didn't hear him and he sat behind the wheel for a moment watching her. He was a straight-forward young man with excellent physical co-ordination, a quick brain and a low boredom threshold. Until the arrival of the second Mrs Gueras he'd never questioned the work into which he'd drifted, but now—watching this woman for whom he'd willingly die—he realised exactly how immoral his job was and knew too the precise moment when he'd taken the wrong turning. It was when he met up with Bishop after a three year gap in their tenuous friendship, and agreed to help out by doing some chauffeuring for him.

The chauffeuring had paid well but the driving of get-away cars had paid better and he’d enjoyed the excitement, pitting his skills against those of police drivers. It had all seemed like a game then, but not any more. Since Lisa became involved it had changed. He wondered whether Bellini would succeed in getting her away. If he did, then Mike's own treachery would be justified. Finally he put his hand on the car horn. 'Finished your shopping, princess?'

'I wanted to see Carol.'

He'd seen Carol a few nights earlier and doubted if Lisa would like what her friend had become. 'Maybe she doesn't want to see you,' he commented. 'Perhaps she's making a fresh start somewhere.'

'Why?'

'Get in the car, it's time we got back!'

'Why should Carol want to lose touch with me?' she repeated once she was settled in the car.

'Perhaps she's done a bunk while owing your old man money?' It was possible, she realised, and had to be content with that. 'Meeting go all right?' he added, noticing that the silver Renault was three cars behind them.

'I suppose so.'

'You don't sound too sure.'

'I'm not sure of anyone anymore.'

No, he thought to himself. Nor would he be in her shoes. 'I think he's straight,' he assured her. 'He's a good bloke.'

'How do you know?'

'Word gets around. How a person treats his employees, the way he looks after his children, whether he's kind to dumb animals! Believe me, there isn't much you can't find out about rich people if you cultivate their staff. So far I haven't heard a bad word about the Italian.'

'Not even from his women?'

'Unfortunately he and I don't mix with the same ones!'

'I thought Neal was kind,' she murmured to herself. 'Why should Renato Bellini be any different?'

Mike, busy trying to work out exactly when the Renault had picked them up, was too distracted to answer, and in any case there really wasn't anything he could say. It was a judgement she had to make for herself.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When Lisa arrived home she felt certain that her guilt at her secret meeting was written all over her face. Fortunately, Louise was in the middle of an enormous row with her husband which enabled Lisa to slip away unnoticed, change into beige pedal-pushers and a cotton top, and then collect Alexi from the nursery. When Neal arrived, his wife was dutifully playing her maternal role and all his attention focused on Louise, now sobbing silently and alone in the room that had once been her mother's retreat.

'What's the matter with her?' he demanded. 'I've no idea.'

'I suppose I'd better find out. You come too; I can't stand weeping women.'

'I can't stand Louise!'

Neal took Alexi from her, deposited him on the rug in the hall and propelled her into the room ahead of him. Louise was slumped in an armchair, her head down on her knees and her shoulders shaking as she wept. For a moment Neal hesitated but finally he put a hand on his daughter's hair.

'What's the matter, Louise? We can hear you from the front of the house!'

'Go away,' she muttered, but without any conviction.

'If anyone goes it's you. You live in the annexe now, remember?' Louise cried even harder. 'Very tactful!' commented Lisa.

Neal put a hand under his daughter's chin and tilted her face up. 'Either you… what's happened to your face?'

Lisa glanced at her stepdaughter and saw that her jaw was swollen down the left side, while the skin around her left eye was puffy and discolouring. 'He hit me!' she sobbed. 'John hit me!'

'Why?' asked her father. Lisa noticed that he didn't sound shocked or annoyed, simply curious.

'Because I spent too much money this morning. I only went into town and bought some maternity clothes, but he'd said I didn't need any and… '

'You promised to obey him. I was surprised you left that vow in, but as I recall it, you wanted to be the perfect, obedient wife. I'm afraid you'll have to live with the consequences.'

Louise's eyes widened in surprise. 'Daddy, he hit me! Aren't you going to speak to him?'

'I wouldn't dream of coming between a husband and wife. You chose him, you'll just have to put up with your choice.'

'Neal!' Lisa was truly shocked. Silly and shallow as Louise was, she couldn't believe Neal was going to let her be knocked around as though she no longer concerned him.

'It's all your fault!' shouted Louise, turning her pain at her father's betrayal into anger against her stepmother. 'If you'd let me come to town with you, I could have used Daddy's credit cards and none of this would have happened.'

'You're not using my credit cards any more,' retorted Neal. 'Let your husband keep you. Now go home, I want some time with my wife.'

'Why? Are you tired of Maria Phillips?' Louise's expression was spiteful.

'In a moment I shall strike you myself. Now get out.' With another sob, Louise ran from the room.

'Who's Maria Phillips?' asked Lisa slowly.

'Never mind her. Why didn't you let Louise come with you today?' 'I had several things to do and I didn't want her company.'

'I take it you collected your dress?' 'Yes.'

'What else did you do?'

'I tried to find Carol Blades.'

He frowned. 'Why on earth are you anxious to find her? She's gone out of business. I prefer you in other designs to be honest.'

'I liked her. Is that so strange?'

'I don't think you appreciate what she's really like, Lisa. I happen to know she's got a drug problem. That's probably why her business failed. If I'd known originally I'd never have invested money in the shop.'

'Don't be ridiculous! Out of all the people we know she's one of the few who won't touch them.'

'Are you calling me a liar?'

'Yes.' She waited to see what would happen, but after a short pause he gave a harsh laugh and put an arm round her. 'Your faith in human nature is quite touching! No doubt you'll run across Carol some time then you'll see for yourself what she's become. Did you enjoy looking round the Tate?' he added casually.

'I didn't go to the Tate.'

'Someone told me they saw you going in. You were wearing a pink linen suit today?'

'Yes, but I didn't go to the Tate. I didn't have time.'

'They must have made a mistake. Let's go and see what young Alexi's up to, shall we?' He sounded relaxed but he'd learnt all he needed to know. Somehow, Lisa had given his man the slip today and he'd ended up following the wrong woman. Either Steve was incredibly incompetent or else Lisa had been very clever. If she'd been very clever then she'd had something to hide, and she couldn't have managed any deception alone. Mike would have had to be in it with her. All in all, he had a lot to think about that evening and Louise never crossed his mind again.

For the next week everything went comparatively smoothly. Neal stayed in London, Louise kept to the annexe and Lisa spent most of her time with the children. Mrs Honeywood came to visit Jessica and ,expressed delight at her progress.

'You and your husband must be very proud of her!' she exclaimed. 'Of course from now on her progress will be less dramatic, but providing you keep spending the time with her she should continue to improve, until she reaches her maximum potential.'

'You sound as though that might happen quite soon.'

'We aren't expecting her to take her place in ordinary society, are we? It's hard to tell what else she'll accomplish but… '

'I expect her to take a place in society.'

Mrs Honeywood smiled indulgently. 'You mustn't get carried away by what's been achieved so far. Jessica is autistic and she'll always be autistic. What we have to do is…'

'I don't believe it's incurable. I've read two case reports of children who went on to higher education, and they can remember how they felt when they were autistic. It's in a book by Nico Tinbergen and his wife. And in Japan… '

'Those children were probably never autistic in the first place. I've told you what a difficult condition it is to diagnose.'

'Why should every child that recovers be assumed to have been incorrectly diagnosed? Aren't you interested in recovery? Don't you think it's something all parents should know about? '

'It would be most unfair to give parents unreasonable expectations. I'm surprised that an intelligent woman like you can't realise that.' 'Even if most parents will be disappointed, shouldn't the few that will succeed at least know there's a chance? Otherwise they might give up too soon.'

'Mrs Gueras, Jessica can now play quietly on her own, she doesn't hide from every stranger and has fewer rigid routines that she feels necessary for her security, but she's still a very disturbed little girl.' So would you be if you lived here, thought Lisa sourly. 'Your husband understands this. I had hoped to find him here today.'

'I told you, he isn't interested in Jessica.'

'You're wrong! He contacted me himself and said how well your little girl was doing. He was really more worried about you. He said you were becoming over-involved and pushing Jessica harder than you should. He did wonder if she might do better in a less demanding environment.'

Lisa stared at the woman she'd thought of as a friend and knew that once again she'd been deliberately cut off from a possible confidante. If she wasn't careful, Jessica was going to be moved 'for her own good', and doubtless she wouldn't be allowed to return until Lisa had obliged her husband with a second son. She wanted to scream aloud at his further betrayal but instead took a deep breath and looked the therapist straight in the eyes.

'Do you think I'm over-tiring her?'

'No, but I think you're building up false hopes for yourself. I'm against removing autistic children from their parents until the situation at home becomes intolerable and that isn't the case here. Obviously your husband's primary concern is for your mental health but I think I can assure him that after our little talk you won't be quite so ambitious in your plans for Jessica.'

'How much did he pay you?' asked Lisa quietly.

'He told you about the cheque, did he? Wasn't it kind of him! £10,000 for the National Society for Autistic Children. An absolute windfall because I'm afraid it isn't a fashionable charity and is desperately short of funds. The secretary will be writing herself but I had hoped to thank him in person.'

'He's in town.' Lisa wondered whether she should be flattered at the amount of money he was prepared to pay to get Jessica out of the way and leave her free for him.

'Would you pass on my thanks?' 'Of course.'

'Then I'll be off. Goodbye, Jessica!'

Jessica glanced up from her rag book and there was such a look of Toby about her that Lisa's breath caught in her throat. 'Goodbye, Jessica,' she repeated. Mrs Honeywood smiled. 'A strange phenomenon, isn't it? I never get used to hearing it.'

How could the woman be so stupid? wondered Lisa as she closed the front door. Presumably the sheer size of the cheque had prevented her from seeking any deeper motive behind the gift but once again Lisa had lost a friend. Mrs Honeywood's loyalty was no longer to Jessica, it was to all autistic children who could benefit from Neal's generosity.

No sooner had she closed the door behind the visitor than Rebekah came running out of the kitchen, throwing herself at Lisa with such force that she had a job to keep her balance. 'Don't listen to Lou! She's being nasty. Daddy doesn't know and… '

'I see the little sneak's got in first,' sneered Louise, walking out of the dining-room with a magazine held tightly in her hands.

'Don't you have a home of your own?' queried Lisa icily.

'I thought you'd like to have a look at this magazine of mine.' 'It's a silly old article!' cried Rebekah, trying to pull Lisa away.

'Come and push me on the swing.'

Louise held out the magazine. Lisa sighed. 'I assume I'm not going to like this?'

'If I don't show you, someone else will.' 'Really? How many enemies have I got?'

'A lot more than you realise,' said Louise venomously.

'Then I'd better read it now and get it over with. Thank you for bringing it round.' She took the copy of Tatler but Louise didn't move. 'I don't intend reading it with you standing over me. Please go,' said Lisa crisply.

'Suit yourself. And remember, my mother had to go through all this over you so it's no good feeling sorry for yourself.'

'I'm not in the habit of feeling sorry for myself—unlike some newlyweds I can think of!'

At this Louise turned and flounced away, leaving Lisa standing in the hall, an anxious Rebekah hovering beside her. 'Wait for me in the garden,' said Lisa quietly. 'You can take Alexi out if you like.'

'I don't want you to read it.' Rebekah's face was white and pinched. 'I remember how upset Mummy used to be when she read those magazine.'

'I'll be all right. Please, Rebekah, wait for me in the garden.'

Reluctantly the child gave in. Lisa walked into the dining-room and sat down at the table, dismissing one of the maids who was busy dusting. Slowly she turned to the society pages, and there, just as she'd expected, was a photo of her husband. Next to him, her arm linked possessively through his, was the red-haired woman who'd sat beside him at their last dinner party. She glanced at the words beneath it. 'Business tycoon Neal Gueras, pictured here with his constant companion Mrs Maria Phillips, widow of the late Gerald Phillips, head of the merchant bankers Phillips & Lyle. Mrs Phillips was wearing… '

She never did see what Maria had been wearing. All she could see was her face at the dinner, the way she'd listened so attentively to Neal. She wondered how long it had been going on and why he'd chosen a woman older than herself. Strangely that hurt more than anything. She'd known he was being unfaithful but hadn't realised it was a serious affair, and she'd never dreamt that he'd be indiscreet enough to make it public knowledge.

She remained at the table for a long time. It was difficult to know how to react now that knowledge of the affair had been forced upon her. She was hurt that he cared so little for her feelings that he could make a fool of her in front of their friends. His friends, she corrected herself at once. None of them were hers. Except for Bellini,—said a small voice in her head. He's your friend. She wondered if he knew about Maria Phillips. Almost certainly he must, and presumably had done when they met. That hurt too, that he should realise how little Neal valued her.

Yet he'd paid out £10,000 in order to keep her bound to him. That money, intended to get Jessica out of the house, was really being used to force Lisa into giving him another child, and she couldn't do that if he didn't want her as his wife. Apparently he did, but he also wanted a mistress to give him pleasure where his wife couldn't. The more she thought about his behaviour, the angrier she became. He must have known that eventually she'd find out but assumed that she'd keep quiet, or try even harder to please him. He was wrong on both counts. When he returned from London he was in for quite a surprise.

He came home the following night, a Friday evening, and found Lisa wearing a black silk dress with a draped effect and a hem that was just below the knee at the front, dipping to a fishtail at the back. The bodice sparkled with tiny diamante and she wore large jet earrings in her ears. Her hair was swept back off her face and she looked tall, slim and elegant, everything he'd ever wanted her to be . He smiled his pleasure, but just as he reached for her she turned away to pour him a whisky.

'You're looking very attractive tonight!' His tone was jocular. 'Thank you.'

'And your hair's different.'

'Yes. Not red of course, but a different style.'

The first small warning bell sounded in his head. 'Are we going out or is all this glamour purely for me?'

'It's all for you.' 'I'm flattered.'

'I don't usually wear black but I thought perhaps I should change my image. Try a more mature look. You like the mature look, don't you?' 'I assume you mean sophisticated,' he said lightly, trying to hide his mounting unease.

'No, I mean mature. I'd call forty-three mature, wouldn't you?' 'I suppose so.'