Nameless (50 page)

Vanessa, up on the podium in sky-blue chiffon, was flushed with excitement and success.

Daisy watched her with a curious detachment. Her mother. Only not her mother at all. Her in-laws were on the same table as her and Simon, his father Sir Bradley puce-faced and jovial with pleasure, Lady Collins tight-lipped and sending Daisy dirty looks.

Daisy wondered if Simon had confided in his mother about her revelations. Certainly, her ladyship’s attitude had changed towards her. Where once her whole manner had been fawning, now it was distinctly chilly. Maybe Simon had told her they were having problems. Which they were, that was true enough.

The thing was, Daisy couldn’t imagine now why she had married Simon in the first place. All she knew was that she had been in a bad place at that time, deeply unhappy and weary to the bone after the gatehouse party. So she had allowed her father to steamroller her into the marriage, and then while she was thinking
What have I done?
Simon impregnated her, and then there had been the twins, she was a married matron, she had the big house, the ambitious husband, the children, the nanny – and she was
still
thinking
How did this happen?

She had floated around, teetering out of control, her whole life. Drink, drugs, anything to fill the void, to alleviate that feeling of being unloved, of being not quite what was looked for in a daughter. She was off all that now. She’d been clean ever since some fool had injected her with heroin; that had frightened her badly. But with a head free of drugs and drink came an awful, sick-making, anxious clarity. She was sitting here looking like a prosperous happy woman, but she was living a total lie. She was so, so glad when the evening drew to a close.

She wanted to go home
alone,
to look in on the twins, to be peaceful for once. But there was Simon, stomping around the master bedroom while she sat at her dressing table removing her earrings, staring at her reflection as if at a stranger.

‘You see? It wasn’t so bad, was it?’ he asked, taking off his shirt and throwing it aside.

Daisy pursed her lips. ‘Simon,’ she said, ‘it was fucking awful. And what have you said to your mother?’

He jerked to a standstill and stared at her. ‘What? What do you mean?’

‘She was looking at me all night like she wanted to kill me,’ said Daisy.

‘Oh, take no notice. Just in a mood about something, I expect.’

‘You haven’t told her anything? I mean, about what I told you, about Ruby . . . ?’

‘God no. She’d go mental.’

‘She doesn’t like me.’ Daisy had felt this for a long time. Sir Bradley, on the other hand, liked her very much. He was always trying to feel her up when he thought no one was looking. Maybe that accounted for his wife looking daggers at her.

‘The less she knows about that, the better.’ Simon’s face was closed off, uncommunicative. ‘And as I told you, I don’t want to hear any more about it either. It’s just rubbish, I’m sure.’

Daisy said nothing. Ruby didn’t talk rubbish, she was sure of
that.

‘Simon,’ she said.

‘Mm?’

‘I think I want a divorce.’

127

Kit drove down to Southend after he left Raeburn Lodge, trying to make sense of all these new things that were zinging around his brain.

He itemized them, laid them out one by one while he walked by the windblown shore and listened to the shriek of the gulls flying overhead. One: Ruby Darke was his mother. Therefore, two: that fruitcake Daisy was his sister. How could that be? Daisy was white as snow; he was dark.

Jesus, hadn’t she come on to him? Hadn’t she given him the green light?

He picked up a handful of stones and spun them so that they skipped out over the grey, white-flecked water. Three bounces, four . . . and oh
shit
, that was right, she had tried her level best to seduce him.

He’d heard that could happen. That somehow, deep down, people ‘recognized’ long-separated siblings or parents or cousins or aunts, and found them attractive. He didn’t understand the colour difference between them, he couldn’t make sense of that at all. But yes, Daisy had flung herself at him. And thank
Christ
he’d been tied up with Gilda, or he might easily have weakened. Daisy was gorgeous, but crazy. Usually he liked his women older . . .

Older.

It didn’t take a shrink to work that one out, now, did it? He dropped the rest of the stones, rubbed the sand and salty moisture from his hands. Stared out at the pounding waves, let the breeze cool his overheated face.

Well, now he’d found his real mother, and he felt . . . he didn’t know
what
he felt. Like he wanted to see her. Also that he wanted to beat her brains out. Also . . . that he wanted to ask her why,
why
, did you do that to me? Abandon me that way? How could you, how could
anyone
, do that?

He thought of all those long, miserable years in the homes. Ruby Darke had condemned him to that. He thought of the bastard with the gas mask, who had fully intended to kill him but had died himself. And the fire! He turned his hands over, looked at the seared skin of his palms – Tito’s handiwork. He’d always been so terrified of fire, of burning. Somewhere back there in his brain was a memory of the fire at the kids’ home, he was sure of it.

And Ruby had condemned Daisy, his sister, to another sort of hell. He knew that Daisy had never felt that she measured up to her parents’ – or more specifically her mother’s – expectations. Maybe that was why she had behaved like such a lunatic, maybe all that had been a cry for help, a
Hey, look at me. Please pay attention to me.

Maybe.

He walked back to the Bentley and got in, slammed the door on the wind, the crash of the sea, the lonely call of the birds. In its hushed leather-clad interior, he thought of Michael Ward, his boss – but so much more than that: Michael had been a father to him, and the boys had become his family. Now he acknowledged that he had always wanted, desired,
craved
a family.

Now, it turned out he had one.

But . . . all he felt was
fury.

128

Ruby was watching TV at home when the doorbell rang.

She glanced at the big sundial clock over the stone mantelpiece. It was seven thirty in the evening, Rob was in the flat over the garage, she was alone here in the locked, secured house. She had a panic alarm that she could press, summon Rob. But . . . she thought she could hear children, crying. She stood up, feeling her injured arm twingeing in protest, and went out into the hall. She approached the front door warily.

‘Who is it?’ she called. The crying children were louder now.

‘It’s me,’ came the reply.

Ruby recognized that voice. She opened the door. There were two women standing there, each of them holding a screaming baby. One of them was Jody, the twins’ nanny. The other one was Daisy, her blonde hair sticking out all over the place, wearing trainers and a body warmer over a white T-shirt. Her left eye was so swollen it was almost shut, and the shiny flesh all around it was turning blue.

‘What the fuck . . . ?’ asked Ruby, shocked. ‘Daisy! What happened?’

‘Oh, nothing very much,’ said Daisy with a shout of near-hysterical laughter. Her one good eye was bright with unshed tears. ‘I’m leaving Simon, that’s all. And when I told him, he got rather upset. I hope you don’t mind me coming here, but I just couldn’t face Brayfield. And I really didn’t know where else to go.’

Ruby stared, aghast. She had been warned to stay away from Daisy. Verbally and physically. But here was her daughter, needing help, needing shelter.

‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ said Ruby, ‘come in.’

While the nanny got the twins upstairs for a feed, a bath and then bed in one of the spare rooms, Ruby ushered Daisy into the drawing room and sat her down by the fire. She went to the drinks tray, poured a brandy, and took it back to her.

‘Here. Drink up.’

Daisy took it, sipped at it. Ruby sat down opposite her daughter and stared at her. That eye was going to be all colours of the rainbow shortly. What sort of
animal
was that arsehole she was married to?

She wasn’t surprised when Rob appeared, having used his key to come through the back door into the house. He must have heard Daisy’s car.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, looking at Daisy’s blackening eye, looking at Ruby.

‘Daisy’s going to stay here tonight,’ said Ruby.

Rob stared at her in consternation. He had been told by the boss that Ruby had been warned off contact with this girl. She’d been first assaulted and then almost run over and killed because she hadn’t toed the line. These people were serious in their intentions. That was all he knew. And now Daisy was here, right here, in the house.

‘That’s not a good idea,’ said Rob.

Ruby stared at him coolly.

‘Good idea or not, that’s what’s happening.’

‘I’d better let the boss know what’s going on.’

‘Fine. If you have to.’

‘I do have to.’ Rob stood there, watching the women uneasily.

Ruby let out a sharp sigh. ‘If you have something to say, Rob, please just say it.’

‘Look, this is stupid,’ said Daisy, starting to get to her feet, putting the brandy glass aside. ‘I really appreciate you taking me in like this, Ruby, but . . .’

‘Sit down, Daisy,’ said Ruby, her voice suddenly commanding.

Daisy sank back down.

Ruby looked at Rob. ‘Tell Michael that Daisy’s here,’ she said. ‘That she is
staying
here, for as long as she needs to.’

‘Jesus, Ruby . . .’

‘Go and do it, please.’

Rob turned on his heel, his face grim. The doorbell rang again.

‘What the fuck
now
?’ he asked, and walked out into the hallway.

Daisy and Ruby exchanged glances.

‘I don’t want to cause trouble,’ said Daisy.

Ruby exhaled. ‘The trouble started a long time ago, Daisy,’ she said more gently. ‘None of it’s your fault. Just relax.’

129

Rob was startled to find a dishevelled-looking Kit standing on the doorstep.

‘She in?’ asked Kit, moving past him into the hall.

‘Yeah, she is.’ Rob nodded to the drawing-room door. ‘Through there. She expecting you? She never said.’

‘No, she’s not expecting me. But I’ve got to speak to her, it’s urgent.’

‘Fine.’ Rob started to move ahead of him.

Kit stopped him with a hand on his chest. ‘Leave me with it, yeah?’

Rob looked at Kit. He thought he looked like shit, which was unusual. Kit was a snappy dresser, usually he looked the business. But tonight, his shirt collar was grubby and his tie was pulled loose. His bespoke jacket was creased and rumpled. His flashy Italian shoes were muddy.

‘You OK?’ he asked. Kit was a mate, after all.

‘I’m fine, just piss off for a bit, will you, Rob? Ruby and me need to have a chat.’

‘Daisy Bray’s in there with her.’There was a distant babylike wail from upstairs. Both men glanced up, then Kit looked a question at Rob. ‘She turned up with the kids and the nanny. Looks like her old man gave her a going-over.’

Kit went over to the drawing-room door and passed inside, closing it firmly behind him. Ruby was sitting there on one sofa, Daisy huddled over a nearly empty glass of brandy on the other. The fire roared and crackled between them. Ruby glanced up, saw Kit, and smiled.

His mother.

Could it be true?

It was. He
knew
it was.

Her arm was out of the sling, he saw, but as she stood up to greet him she still moved a little stiffly, like it was tender.

‘Kit! This is a surprise.’

He approached her, like he always did, kissed her cheek. But this time he felt like he was moving in a surreal dream. Now he was aware that he was kissing his
mother’s
cheek, and it felt so strange. Again he could feel that deep-seated fury, bubbling up in him.

‘Well, it’s been a day of surprises,’ he said, and she sat back down and gestured for him to sit too. ‘Hiya, Daise,’ he said, looking at her.

She looked shattered. For the first time he noticed that her eye was bruised and blackening. It looked like someone had given her a nasty smack. What the hell was
that
all about?

He turned his attention to Ruby, who was smiling at him with a little puzzled frown. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked. ‘A day of surprises? What surprises?’

Kit sat down. He leaned forward, hands clasped on his knees, and looked at her. Really
looked. H
e couldn’t see himself in her in anything but their colour; that was identical. But wait: she was tall. So was he. Anything else? No. If it was there, he couldn’t see it.

‘What is it?’ asked Ruby, the smile dropping from her face. ‘Is something wrong? Is it Michael?’

‘Wrong?’ Kit swallowed and shifted slightly in his seat. ‘No. And the boss is fine.’

‘What, then? There’s something, for sure.’

‘I went to Raeburn Lodge today, the children’s home.’

‘Why?’ Ruby was staring at him in confusion.

‘I had some news. An old lady I visited once or twice, she died.’

‘I’m sorry.’

Kit was silent for a long moment. Daisy was staring at him.

‘What are you talking about, Kit?’ she asked him.

Kit glanced at her. ‘She left me a letter. I didn’t want to tell Ruby about it, I didn’t want to get her hopes up just to let her down again.’ He fished in his pocket, found it, handed it over to Ruby. ‘This is it.’

Ruby slipped on her reading glasses and read it. She took a while, and when she’d finished she refolded the letter and handed it back to Kit. ‘So that woman had concealed a little boy at her home . . . ? For God’s sake. Do you think . . . is there any chance it could be him? It can’t be, can it?’

‘I spoke to the Principal yesterday, she dug out the records and she showed me them today,’ Kit said, amazed at how calm his voice sounded.