Up Close and Personal (34 page)

She gazed up at him. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you … about Gus?’

He shook his head. ‘No. I give you my word.’

She smiled and rested her head against his chest. ‘So what are we going to do about Nathan?’

‘You leave Nathan to me,’ Dante said. ‘One way or another, he’s going to be gone by morning.’

23

Dante strode down Ashwicke’s sweeping drive, breathing heavily as he tried to control his rage. He could feel it growing inside him, dividing and multiplying, threatening to suck the marrow from his bones. It was evening now and the last faint gauze of light was fading rapidly. The grounds stood petrified in their stillness and in the trees beyond the rose garden the birds were making their last little rustling noises before nightfall. Ahead of him lay the lodge, crouching low beneath the gunpowder sky.

Nathan responded to Dante’s knock almost immediately, appearing at the front door with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. He seemed in an unusually convivial mood.

‘Aah, Mr Fisher,’ he said, throwing open his arms. ‘This is an unexpected pleasure.’

Dante offered no response as he pushed past him into the dimly lit hall.

‘Hey, you can’t just barge in here like that,’ grumbled Nathan. ‘This is my home.’

‘Not for much longer,’ Dante said under his breath. He stepped through the nearest doorway and found himself in a sitting room. It was poky and cheaply furnished and the air was thick with cigarette smoke. As he surveyed the room, his attention was drawn to a pair of Royal Doulton shepherdesses, lying prone on a coffee table. The last time
he’d seen them, they were bookending the mantelpiece in Ashwicke’s dining room. Next to the ornaments was a roll of bubblewrap, some sticky tape and a pair of scissors, indicating they wouldn’t be on the premises for long. No doubt Nathan planned to sell them on eBay or in one of Loxwood’s overpriced antique shops.

‘Do you mind telling me what this is about?’

Dante looked up to see Nathan standing in the doorway. ‘I’ve been speaking to Orla,’ he replied. ‘She told me everything.’

The general manager ground out his cigarette in a solid onyx ashtray that used to live on Gus’s desk. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said levelly.

In three quick strides Dante had crossed the room. ‘You motherfucker,’ he growled at Nathan. ‘You think you’re so goddamn smart, don’t you? Getting that cute sister of yours to come on to me.’

Nathan took a long, deliberate swallow of wine. ‘I’m amazed you could resist her,’ he said. ‘You look like the type who wouldn’t need much persuasion.’

His mocking tone was too much for Dante. Grabbing the manager by the throat, he shoved him up against the nearest wall.

‘
Waarghh
,’ Nathan sputtered, dropping his glass as the air was forced out of his larynx. Around his feet, the wine spread across the sisal carpet like blood.

‘Shut the fuck up and listen to me,’ Dante hissed. ‘I know all about you and your sad little life. I know you’ve been trying to get rid of me, so you can carry on sabotaging Juliet’s business.’ He applied more pressure to the manager’s throat. ‘I’m telling you, asshole, this is where it ends – right
here and right now.’ He let go of Nathan, who instantly began coughing and rubbing his neck.

‘You’ve just assaulted me,’ the manager croaked. ‘I’ve a good mind to call the police.’

Dante laughed. ‘Yeah, you do that. Then I can tell them how you tried to take advantage of a vulnerable woman.’

‘You can’t prove anything,’ Nathan retorted. ‘It’ll be your word against mine. In any case, I’ve got an employment contract. Juliet can’t get rid of me just like that. If she wants me to go, she’ll have to make it worth my while.’ He rubbed the fingers of his right hand together. ‘Fifteen thousand ought to do it.’

Dante tried to stay calm, though he could feel the sweat pooling under his arms. ‘So you’re a blackmailer as well as a thief.’ He thrust his clenched fist into the manager’s face. ‘How about I just kick your ass out of here?’

‘You lay one finger on me and I’ll do you for GBH,’ Nathan fired back. ‘What would your precious Juliet do if you went to prison, eh?’

There was a long silence. Dante could feel a sea of malevolence silently undulating all around him. ‘You’d better start packing,’ he said. ‘You’ve got two hours to get out of here.’

Nathan giggled maniacally. ‘I’ve already told you,’ he said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Dante gritted his teeth. This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. ‘Two hours,’ he repeated. As he walked through the front door, Nathan’s laughter was still ringing in his ears.

Back at the house, Juliet was pacing up and down the hall, her palms wet with apprehension. She fell on her husband
the minute he walked through the door. ‘Well?’ she said anxiously. ‘How did it go?’

Dante shrugged half-heartedly. ‘Not great, I’m afraid. He says he won’t go – not unless you pay him fifteen thousand pounds.’

Juliet groaned. ‘Oh God, what are we going to do now?’

He put his arms round her shoulders. ‘We’ll give him till ten thirty and then we’re calling the police.’

In the event, they didn’t have to wait that long. The first sign that something was wrong came in the form of a frantic ringing on Ashwicke’s antiquated doorbell. As its chimes rang out, the Fishers were in the kitchen, picking at a cold supper of pâté and crusty bread, though neither had much appetite. Dante was on his feet in an instant. ‘I’ll go,’ he told Juliet as he flung down his napkin. ‘You stay here.’

With a strong sense of foreboding, he hurried to the front door. When he opened it, he was shocked to see Orla standing there, huddled in a thin cotton shawl. She was pale as a ghost and tears were running incontinently down her cheeks. She was so hysterical that at first he couldn’t make out what she was saying.

‘Slow down, Orla,’ he said soothingly. ‘Take a deep breath and tell me what’s happened.’

She took a few gulps of air. ‘Quickly,’ she panted. ‘Nathan’s trapped; we’ve got to help him.’ She jabbed a finger into the gathering darkness. ‘Look!’

Dante stepped over the lintel and scanned the gardens. Horror rose in him like a tide as he saw that one corner of the landscape was shot with crimson.

‘Come on!’ Orla screamed, grabbing his hand. ‘We’re wasting time.’

Hesitating, Dante glanced back at the house, just as Juliet appeared. ‘Who is it?’ she said. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Call the fire service,’ he shouted. ‘And tell them to hurry.’ Then he was gone.

Dante’s heart was pounding as he raced across the lawn with Orla. Ahead of them the lodge was lit up like a Christmas tree. Flames were leaping from the shattered windows and thick grey clouds billowed from the roof. As they drew nearer, a dense pall of smoke, spotted with ashes, came to greet them like a devouring monster.

‘What the fuck has he done?’ Dante said, flinging his arm across his mouth.

‘I don’t know,’ Orla sobbed. ‘The place was already on fire when I got here. I only came back because I couldn’t find my purse. I realized it must’ve fallen out of my bag when I was here earlier.’

‘Are you sure Nathan’s in there?’ Dante asked her as he skittered round the building, looking for any sign of movement within.

‘Yes!’ she screeched. ‘I saw him through the sitting-room window. He was lying on the floor, and he wasn’t moving.’

Dante knew what he had to do. If he stopped to think about it, it would be too late. Tearing Orla’s shawl off her shoulders, he ran to a nearby water butt and dunked the shawl, before draping it over his head and shoulders.

‘I’m going in,’ he yelled to Orla. ‘If I’m not out by the time the fire service arrives, be sure to tell them there are two of us inside. And whatever happens, do
not
follow me in there.’

Dante ran towards the lodge and began aiming hefty kicks at the front door. As it gave way, a blast of hot, acrid air engulfed him, making his throat burn and his eyes itch. Instinctively, he dropped to the floor where the air was cooler and cleaner. Visibility was at a minimum but he could see the rooms to the left of the hall were well ablaze. The fire hadn’t yet spread to the right side, where the sitting room was located. If Nathan was in there, he might still be alive, Dante reasoned – that’s if he hadn’t been suffocated by the choking mantle of smoke that was rapidly filling his own lungs. With the end of the wet shawl pressed to his mouth, he groped his way along the hall on his hands and knees until he found the entrance to the sitting room. The door was open and, as he crossed the threshold, he called Nathan’s name as loudly as his aching lungs would allow. When there was no answer, he began a slow circuit of the room, using one hand to balance, while the other swept the floor in front of him. His oxygen-starved brain felt numb. He was aware of nothing but the roar of the flames and the sound of his own laboured breathing.

After several minutes of searching, Dante didn’t think he could take any more – the heat and the smoke were too intense. He glanced behind him and was alarmed to see flames licking the door frame greedily.
One more minute
, he told himself.
One more minute – and then you can go with a clear conscience, knowing you did everything you possibly could.
He continued on, still calling Nathan’s name. Above him, there was a series of loud pops as, one by one, the two-hundred-year-old slates on the roof began to explode. Just as he was about to turn back, Dante’s hand made contact with something hard and smooth: a leather brogue. He continued
feeling. The shoe was connected to a leg. ‘Nathan?’ Dante said. He got no response.

Not knowing if the general manager were alive or dead, Dante grabbed him under the armpits and began dragging him towards the door. Nathan was heavy and progress was painfully slow. By the time they reached the hall, flames were shooting across the ceiling, filling the narrow space with an eerie orange glow. For one awful moment, Dante didn’t think they were going to make it. But then his survival instinct kicked in. With a primitive cry that seemed to come from the very core of his being, he hefted Nathan onto his shoulder and ran through the flames. A moment later, they were outside.

After depositing his human cargo onto the grass, Dante fell to his knees, head bowed and chest heaving as he breathed in great lungfuls of cool, clean air. A moment later, Juliet was beside him. ‘Oh my God, I thought I’d lost you,’ she cried, flinging herself at him. ‘Are you hurt?’

Dante shook his head. ‘Just a bit of smoke inhalation, that’s all.’ Looking up, he saw Orla bent over Nathan’s lifeless form. ‘Is he breathing?’ he called out to her.

‘I don’t know,’ she said in a tremulous voice. ‘I don’t think so.’

Dante staggered to his feet and went over to them. Nathan’s face was black with smoke and one of his arms was streaked with a long, livid burn. He held two fingers to the side of the other man’s neck. ‘I can feel a faint pulse,’ he said.

Orla gave a loud sob and put her lips close to her brother’s ear. ‘Nathan,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Orla. You’re safe now; the ambulance will be here soon.’ As she spoke, the general
manager’s eyelids fluttered momentarily. ‘He can hear me!’ Orla shrieked.

Suddenly, Nathan’s mouth opened. A wide circle, twitching and trembling. Inside, a quivering tongue and strings of dark mucus laced across the fleshy redness of his throat. Mesmerized, the others watched, waiting for some noise to escape from the gaping, juddering orifice. Suddenly Nathan gave a damp, nasal snort and then his head fell to the side.

‘Nathan?’ Orla said, stroking his hair. ‘Nathan, wake up.’

Dante held his fingers to the manager’s neck again. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sitting back on his haunches. ‘He’s gone.’

Somewhere in the distance a siren started screaming.

24

It was the day after the fire and people in Loxwood were going about their business, completely oblivious to the drama at Ashwicke. In the high street, Nicole was attempting to reverse the buggy out of the newsagent’s, swearing under her breath when the wheels caught on the rubber doormat. As she jerked the buggy, Tilly woke up and began to cry, causing a woman browsing a carousel of birthday cards to glare irritably in Nicole’s direction.

‘Here, why don’t you let me help you with that?’

Nicole looked over her shoulder and saw Bear standing on the pavement. His massive frame seemed to fill her field of vision. Before she could answer, he stretched his muscular arm over her head and held open the door, so that now she had both hands free.

She smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you,’ she said, wrestling the buggy clear of the mat and through the narrow doorway. ‘A knight in shining armour, just when I needed one.’

Nicole hadn’t seen Bear for several weeks, not since she’d delivered the banana cake to his caravan. He’d left a couple of friendly messages on her mobile, suggesting they meet for coffee, but she’d texted back an excuse. Since Connor’s departure, she’d been feeling rather fragile and she was reluctant to let Bear see her in that state. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him, though. One night she dreamed she
was standing in the Airstream’s tiny kitchen, doing the washing up. She was wearing a floaty cotton dress and a pair of Birkenstocks, and instead of the platinum bangle she usually wore – a wedding anniversary gift from Connor – her wrist was ringed with a plaited leather thong. As she lathered up a rolling pin, Bear had come up behind her and lifted up her dress, pressing his crotch against her naked buttocks. Now that he was here in the flesh, she couldn’t help blushing.

‘Long time, no see,’ Bear said as she joined him on the pavement.

‘Yes,’ Nicole said, rocking the buggy in a bid to quieten Tilly. ‘Sorry I couldn’t meet for coffee. I’ve had quite a lot on lately.’

‘No problem,’ Bear replied. He bent down and cupped Tilly’s chin gently in one of his hands. Instantly, she stopped crying.

Nicole looked at him in surprise. ‘What’s your secret?’

Bear shrugged. ‘I’ve always been good with kids. I’ve got four nephews and nieces who I love spending time with. My sister’s forever telling me what a great dad I’d be.’