Walking in Darkness

He held her away after a warm hug and stared down into her face, searching her eyes, noting her pallor, her quivering lips.

‘You OK?’ His heavy features were anxious, concerned.

She made a face, shrugged. ‘I’ll survive.’

He hugged her again. ‘That’s my girl.’

Paul and Steve stood watching; she didn’t look their way because Steve’s shrewd eyes saw too much, she was afraid of what he would read in her eyes, and she didn’t want to give anything away to Paul, either.

In the house the phone began to ring again, rang on and on, and Paul turned his head to stare through the open door.

‘Where is everyone? Why doesn’t somebody answer that? Damn the thing! I’d like to have it cut off.’

The ringing stopped. They heard footsteps and the housekeeper came to the open front door. ‘It’s for you, sir. Mr Levinson.’

‘I’ll take it in my study,’ Paul said curtly. He glanced at the rest of them. ‘Sorry, excuse me.’

He vanished into the house and Vladimir turned to stare after him. ‘Is that the husband? The guy who married little Anya? I didn’t get a chance to take a good look at him. What do you think? Is he OK for her? Do you like him?’

Sophie nodded, ruefully smiling. ‘He has been very kind to me. Very sympathetic.’ She couldn’t betray her sister’s confidences, tell them that Cathy wasn’t certain of Paul, was afraid he might leave her now. Cathy might be way off the mark, her imagination working overtime. She was too upset to be able to think properly.

‘Where is she?’ Vlad demanded. ‘I am dying to see her. Last time I saw her she was a baby, just born – Jesus, that was a long, long time ago. Another world, nuh? This is going to make me feel very, very old.’

‘You are very, very old,’ Steve joked, and they grinned at each other.

Sophie was startled but loved the easy familiarity between them. How had they become friends so fast? But then they had so much in common: they were both newsmen, both cynical, hard-boiled, humorous, capable of great tenderness.

‘Anya is upstairs lying down,’ she said, then looked behind them. ‘Where’s Gowrie?’

‘He walked over to the helipad to talk to his security people,’ Steve told her drily. ‘He will be leaving soon, I gather.’ His eyes glinted with anger and contempt.

‘Having made a deal with you?’ She stared into those eyes, wondering why he had agreed to accept Gowrie’s terms. He was ambitious, but she couldn’t believe he would sell her and Cathy out just to help his own career.

‘Oh, yes, he got what he wanted, so he’s ready to leave. He says he wouldn’t feel safe here unless his men can stake out the house, and Paul won’t have that, he doesn’t want them around, so Gowrie is going. But first he says he’ll come to say goodbye to Cathy. He wants her to drive up to London to see his wife; they didn’t bring her with them in the chopper. In case something went wrong, Gowrie said, but he meant in case she overheard anything, picked up what was really going on here. The last thing he wants is for her to remember that Cathy isn’t . . .’ He broke off, gesturing.

‘Isn’t her Cathy,’ Sophie murmured, pitying the woman she had never met, a woman who had deferred her child’s death by nearly thirty years, yet had never been a real mother to Cathy, never close to her, because she had been in flight from herself and the truth, drifting between illusion and reality.

‘Could we have something to drink?’ Vlad asked wistfully. ‘I’ve been hanging about outside the gates for hours, they wouldn’t let me in for some reason. That wind is icy and I’m freezing.’

‘I’ll ask the housekeeper to make us some coffee,’ Sophie said, and he grimaced.

‘I was thinking of something stronger, nuh?’

Paul walked into his office, closed the door and sat down behind his desk. The telephone was already ringing; his housekeeper had switched the call through.

‘Hello? Freddy?’

‘Yes. Paul, I –’

‘I hope this is important. I’ll be back in town in a couple of hours. Can’t it wait?’

‘I saw Salmond last night,’ Freddy abruptly said, and Paul stiffened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the phone. What was Freddy going to tell him? Had he sold out? Had Salmond bought him? Then he thought: no, not Freddy, Freddy wouldn’t rat on me, he never has and he never will. He’s been loyal to me from the beginning. Loyalty is his middle name. What the hell is the matter with me? I’ve been spending too much time with shits like Don Gowrie.

‘I was having dinner with my cousin and his wife last night,’ Freddy was saying. ‘Celebrating their wedding anniversary. I was paying, my present to them – she wanted to go to the Primavera, that new Italian place that’s all the rage at the moment, she’s that sort of woman, you know, loves to be in the latest fashion and –’

Paul erupted. ‘Freddy, for God’s sake – never mind your bloody family – what about Salmond?’

‘Sorry, I’m in quite a state this morning. Can’t think straight. I almost rang you last night, but we drank too much over dinner, you know how it is, cocktails, then wine, then brandy afterwards, and I don’t usually drink, as you know and –’