The Ties That Bind (34 page)

‘The miracle of it is that the longer I kept it, the more powerful it got,’ said Sandy. ‘I mean, in 1968 it would have rested on Joss’s prescription and Jacky’s blood type, and fingerprints. A decent brief could have wriggled out of it. But then at the end of the eighties when we started seeing DNA fingerprinting . . . I mean, then it was stronger than ever, then it was watertight.’

‘But even . . .’ Luke’s words were chopped into fractions by chattering teeth. ‘Even with this, he still knew who your sister was, how to find her. How did you ever get up the courage to confront him?’

‘I told you, I didn’t go to him straight away. Things had to happen first. The main thing was that I toughened up. Every time I wrote one of those bloody puff-pieces I got a bit harder. You’ve got to remember that apart from all the stuff he was making me write, I had this parallel career as a proper hack, covering the courts all day every day, getting things going with the cuttings service as well.’

Luke groaned. Cramp isolated his muscle groups so that they were as distinct as they would be on a medical diagram; now a hamstring burned, now a quadriceps. Sandy continued regardless, a slight increase in the volume of her own voice the only sign that she had heard him.

‘But then two things happened.’ Now her voice took on a dreamy note, soaring further out of his reach. ‘Janet married again and moved out to Canada with a new surname. I didn’t think even Joss Grand could find her there. The other thing was that I ended up a bit down on my luck. Ted dying left me in the lurch. His life wasn’t insured, he didn’t have a pension and suddenly I was on my own, with rent I couldn’t pay on a house that was too big for me. Like I said, I’d already started my archive but it was still at the start-up stage where I was investing more than I was making. I couldn’t make ends meet. Women had come a long way but they still paid me half what they would a man doing the same job: I wasn’t expected to have to support myself, because I had Ted. And then suddenly I didn’t.’

Luke couldn’t prompt her but it wasn’t needed. The words kept flowing. If only all subjects thought that their interviewer was just about to die, he thought, what an easy job it would be.

‘I waited until the next time I was summoned to see him – there would be some big thing he wanted to swank about twice a year or so – I held my nerve, even when the money was running out. The way I felt on the pier that time was nothing compared to when I knocked on his door, even though I was prepared – I had a photo of the lens with me. I knew what I wanted: somewhere to live, and a little to live on. I
knew
he could afford it. He was already one of the richest men in Sussex.’

Luke began to pant through the pain.

‘We sat there in his office, him in his big swivelly chair, and I did the whole interview with a straight face. I phoned it through to the copytaker while he listened in and then when I put the phone down, I showed him the photo. I told him I had it in a vault somewhere, with a note explaining what it was – just in case he turned violent. You know when I said I wished I had a camera in my eyes? I’d give anything to have caught the look on his face when he found out what I had on him. The whole balance of power between us tipped into reverse and I got this floaty feeling, like I was rising up on a see-saw.’

She fanned herself, even though it was cold enough that her breath was visible. Luke finally understood the degree of her mania and knew that he was powerless against it.

‘Dave drove us to the office on West Street – it was half six and there were no staff left. It took Joss about half an hour to take this place off the books. And he really did take it off the books; tore up all the records, took the deeds so that none of the staff would miss it. Then they drove me here and gave me the keys. Joss said, Dave will put the money through your door in monthly instalments. He was so formal about it I was half-surprised he didn’t draw up a contract.

‘So I stood outside this place with the keys in my hand and for a long time I didn’t even dare to open the door. I had a little cry; relief, I suppose. I remember an old bloke coming out of his house opposite and asking me if I was all right and Luke, I wanted to dance with him, I wanted to say I had never felt better. This . . . this
yoke
that had been on my shoulders since I was a young girl – it was gone, and I’d made it happen myself!
I’d made justice happen
.’ Her eyes were wide, defiant and trained on Luke, but she was staring through him, into her own past.

That’s what I’d imagined I was doing for you, thought Luke; righting the wrong on your behalf.

‘That’s when Grand
really
became a recluse, you know,’ said Sandy. ‘That’s when the stories in the paper stopped, when he started doing everything behind the scenes. Not just because I wasn’t writing them for him any more but because he was no longer courting the publicity. I’d gone from being someone he controlled to the only person in the world who could put him away.’ Her wistfulness suddenly gave way to anger. ‘And now you’ve gone and ruined it. Because if you write this sodding book you take away my livelihood and everything I’ve ever worked for. I had my first career stolen from me, Luke, and I won’t have it again. I
will not have it!
’

Luke dared not voice the nasty truth that this was no career, that her hoard was more affliction than profession. Tears pressed against the sides of his sore throat and bulged behind his eyes. He thought back to that time he had seen her on the doorstep and known her fear of Joss Grand. But it was not the old man she feared. She’d had no need to fear him for years. It was Luke himself, or rather the threat to her archive he represented, that she was afraid of. Something he had set in motion had taken on a momentum of its own, that he could never have predicted, and he only had himself to blame.

There was a noise overhead that could not be attributed to a rodent. Sandy had heard it too. These footsteps were distinct and heavy, not the uneven gait of a sick old man. Each one was like a giant nail hitting a giant hammer and there was the sound of something being dragged.

Sandy clattered over to the bottom of the staircase and threw her voice up into the house. ‘Is that you?’ The words bounced around the cellar, gaining momentum with each reverberation.

‘Hang on,’ came a voice he recognised. ‘On my way down now.’

Chapter 51

The most intimidating thing about Vaughan was not, for once, his size. It was the gloves he wore – thin white vinyl, the kind doctors used for examinations – and the rolled-up tarpaulin that rustled under his arm. Together they foretold of spilled blood and evidence and a final journey made in the boot of a car. His huge feet crunched pellets of dried rat droppings as he crossed the cellar floor. He made no eye contact with Luke as he gave him a once-over, tugging on the cord that bound his wrists as though making sure that a package was secure. There were splinters of wood caught in the fleecy cuffs of his bomber jacket. Had the broken front door been a set-up too?

Vaughan bent to examine Luke’s face, then let his wrists drop. Warm fluid suddenly lubricated his right hand as the flesh tore. He tried to scream; a whimper came out.

‘Is he still not here?’ Sandy asked Vaughan. He answered with a shake of his head. ‘Really? No sign at all?’

She checked her watch again. Luke wondered what time it was, what day it was – it felt like days since he had eaten, weeks since he had drunk – and tried to think who, if not Grand, they were expecting. For all their different and opposing motivations, he was what they had in common and the reason they were all here.

‘No sign of who?’ rasped Luke. ‘And how come you and Vaughan . . . I didn’t even know you
knew
each other.’

‘Well of
course
we know each other,’ said Sandy. ‘I told you that Dave used to put my cash through the door every week, and when he retired, at the end of the nineties, Vaughan took over that little job.’

‘I thought we agreed you’d keep the gag on him?’ growled Vaughan. ‘What are you talking to him for? What’ve you
said
?’

‘I didn’t think it would matter,’ she said nervously. ‘Not in light of—’

‘That’s not the point. We had a
plan
. Jesus, the
gob
on you.’

Vaughan threw the tarpaulin to the floor, then returned to stand sentry at the bottom of the steps. He watched and listened for their next guest with the focus of a hunting animal. Luke even thought he saw his ears twitch.

‘Do you know, in all the years Dave brought me the money he never came in for a cup of tea,’ said Sandy, ‘But Vaughan said yes first time I asked. Dave was a lapdog, really, wouldn’t do anything without Joss’s express permission. But Vaughan’s his own man, aren’t you?’

‘I’m warning you,’ said Vaughan.

‘Oh, what harm can it do now?’ said Sandy, but she blinked hard and swallowed, and when she continued, the attempt at rebellion had taken some of the wind from her sails.

‘At first we talked about everything
but
the cash. It turned out that we had a lot in common. I wasn’t the only one who’d been screwed over by Grand. He was making Vaughan work for a fraction of what he was worth. Obviously because of Vaughan’s record it wouldn’t have been easy for him to find another job, and he was paid a chauffeur’s wage even though he was really a personal assistant and a bodyguard, doing about three men’s jobs, weren’t you? What Grand was paying him was OK, but not compared to what he could have afforded to pay him, and not enough to live well. He’s been working for Grand for almost thirty years and there’s never been any kind of loyalty bonus, just a few fifties in an envelope at Christmas. When you think about what that man’s worth, and what he could afford to pay his staff . . . and when you think of the things Vaughan has done for Grand, things that go above and beyond the call of duty. There’s an added loyalty. And the
secrets
he’s kept for him. The
risks
he’s taken. It’s not as though he could get another job. When you commit to working for someone like Grand you effectively opt out of the usual system of employment. If that’s not worth a bit of danger money, I don’t know what is.’

Luke’s knowledge of Vaughan’s true inheritance burned inside him, but they would never believe him; it sounded, even to him, like something he would have made up, a desperate fabrication to get himself off the hook.

‘My business was already getting sick by the time I met Vaughan,’ said Sandy. Her fingers twitched and twirled the air in a way he recognised as meaning ‘I can’t get through this without a cigarette.’ ‘I didn’t know it was terminal. I’m afraid I thought then that the internet was just a flash in the pan. In hindsight, I should’ve have given the whole thing up then, but you know, I thought, the more money I poured into my collection, the more clients I’d attract and I’d be able to get back on my feet. Some weeks I was barely eating because I had so many newspapers to buy. And then one day I just broke down and confided in Vaughan about it. I know you wouldn’t think it to look at him, but he’s a very good listener.’

Luke wondered if she was confusing someone who barely spoke with an attentive audience.

‘He didn’t judge or anything, then when I’d finished he came up with the idea.’

‘The idea?’ Luke said. This was sounding more and more like one of Sandy’s fantasies.

‘He told me I was selling myself short. In fact I can remember exactly what he said: “You could touch him for two, three times the cash you’re getting and he wouldn’t notice.It wouldn’t touch the sides. He’s fucking minted.” He said that he’d negotiate the whole thing and take half of whatever Joss offered. I
was
sceptical at first. What if he called my bluff on the lens? But Vaughan told me to trust him, and he went away and put the new proposition to Grand. We got it up to a thousand a month – five hundred each!’ she said triumphantly.

He forced his broken brain to calculate how much money they were making, going over the sums several times because the initial result seemed so meagre. But the numbers came back the same every time. All this for a mere twelve thousand a year?

‘Truth be told, Luke, my work would have gone under years ago without that extra money. I didn’t do it out of
greed
. I did it to protect my archive.’

Outside a car door slammed, hard enough for the sound to carry through to the basement.

‘Shut up!’ Vaughan instructed Sandy. Breathing was suspended until the doorbell failed to ring, the knocker failed to sound, and enough time elapsed for it to be clear the driver’s destination was elsewhere. Sandy and Vaughan both checked their watches, then searched each other’s faces for explanation.

‘Have you tried just
ringing
him?’ she asked.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Vaughan. ‘How could that work?’

‘Oh, of course.’ She tutted a minor admonishment at herself, as though she’d just realised she’d gone out and left the iron on.

‘He said he’d be here, didn’t he? He’ll get here any minute.’

Sandy switched modes again as though the seriousness of the situation had just dawned on her. ‘Good, because I don’t know how much longer this one’s going to last.’ She folded the scarf and dragged it across Luke’s forehead; when she held it up it dripped with his sweat. ‘We need to give him something to tide him over. He’s no good to us if he . . .’

Luke didn’t know he had lost consciousness until he regained it again. When he opened his eyes, Sandy was standing above him with a bottle of mineral water. She bent over him, her backcombed hair falling forward like a hood, and held it to his lips. He let it fall onto his tongue; the first few sips were not swallowed but simply absorbed by the dry sponge of his mouth and then he was drinking, as sparingly as he could manage. He felt the water flow through him, branching into the extremities, swirling into the desiccated rift between his brain and his skull, restoring speech and reason. He longed to guzzle but Sandy held the bottle tilted at an angle that kept it coming at just the right rate, the soft press of it against his lips calling to mind the gentleness with which she had bathed his wounds. He appealed to the trace elements of compassion he knew were still within her.