The two men stumbled back onto the concrete floor as Erin turned to see Chief Inspector Wright and Chris running up the iron stairs to the roof.
‘Chris!’ shouted Erin, running into his arms.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispered, pulling her tight. ‘It’s over now.’
70
News of Marcus’s arrest was all over the media by the next morning. Summer sat up in her hospital bed, watching a lunchtime bulletin on the small television screen beside her bed, still trying to make sense of it all. Molly had phoned her the night before, sobbing hysterically, still refusing to believe that Marcus had killed Karin. And while Summer had to take her mother’s grief at face value – who wouldn’t be distraught to find out their partner had been in love with somebody else and then murdered them? – she knew Molly was also mourning the end of life at The Standlings. It looked like her old rival Karin had finally got one over on Molly, even from beyond the grave.
‘I think you can go home this afternoon,’ smiled a nurse, putting a tray of food on Summer’s table. ‘We’ve just got to wait for the consultant to do his rounds.’ She hovered at the door, eyes flickering to the TV screen, hoping that Summer would volunteer some information about the case. Summer’s connection to Karin Cavendish’s murder was no secret around the ward: they had been forced to field phone calls and visits from insistent reporters, all wanting a quote from Summer. But she was a nice kid, thought the nurse, shutting the door and letting her watch the news in peace. On top of the life-threatening ordeal she had just gone through, she didn’t deserve to be hassled.
When she was alone, Summer lifted up her pyjama top and stroked the scar along her abdomen. It was over with Adam, she knew that now. He knew about the baby, he knew about her emergency – he had paid for the room – but he hadn’t visited her in hospital. She could try and justify it a million ways – after all, his fiancée had just died – but if he had really cared, he would have come. Summer knew she was lucky to be alive. She’d pull through. She wasn’t going to be a victim any longer. It was time for a fresh start. Rehearsals for the film started in six weeks; filming would begin in the New Year. A whole new chapter of her life was beginning and she was going to enjoy it.
Hearing the door open, she looked up expecting to see the doctor. It was Molly. Her eyes were red, she looked drawn and haggard, but was trying to smile.
‘Am I allowed to say you’ve looked better?’ smiled Summer as Molly came to sit on the bed.
‘I could say the same about you,’ she retorted, and they both started laughing. Summer lay back and expected Molly to start jabbering on about being hassled by reporters, but she surprised Summer by being quiet and looking nervous.
‘Mum? What’s up? Is anything wrong?’
Molly walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. There were so many things she wanted to tell her daughter. Some, like her own tryst with Adam, she could never reveal no matter how much she wanted to share the truth. Other things, like the recent death of Kenneth Sinclair – a grandfather Summer had never known – she would tell her in time. But there had been something Molly had wanted to do right now. Something she had to share.
‘Listen, honey, I wanted to try and do something right for once in my life,’ she said, her voice cracking.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Summer, perplexed.
‘I’ve found him. I’ve found your father,’ she said quietly.
She opened her bag and removed a piece of paper which had James Bailey’s address and telephone number written on it.
Tears were now streaming down Molly’s face, and the regret she had been suppressing for so long suddenly overwhelmed her as she handed the piece of paper to Summer.
‘I hope you’ll forgive me one day. I hope you’ll both forgive me.’
Summer moved her fragile body forward and held her arms out towards her mother. Molly pulled her daughter’s head towards her shoulder and just held her.
‘Of course I forgive you,’ whispered Summer.
It had been a long night. More police statements. Erin was exhausted but strangely energized. It was over. It had been a strange sight seeing Marcus in handcuffs, weeping, his cool, intelligent façade broken.
Adam, Chris and Erin walked out onto the street outside Scotland Yard where Adam’s jet-black Maybach car was waiting for them. It had been raining, the night sky was charcoal black and a sour breeze blew in from the Thames. Adam’s driver jumped out of the front seat and opened the door nearest the kerb.
Adam stood in front of it waiting for Erin to jump in. ‘I take it you want to go straight home?’ smiled Adam. His face looked tired and drawn. For the first time since she had met him, he looked old. She paused to look at Chris who was hanging back from the car. Adam nodded at him. ‘You too.’
He shot a look at Adam and shrugged. ‘I’ve got my bike. I’d better not leave it in town all night.’
He turned to Erin. ‘I’ll see you back home in about half an hour. Are you sure you’ll be okay?’
‘Chauffeured all the way the home in a Maybach? Of course I’ll be okay,’ she grinned. ‘Seriously, I’m fine. Just a little shaken, but glad it’s over.’
She went up to him and hugged him. ‘We would never have got him without you,’ she whispered in his ear.
The door of the car shut with a heavy thud as Erin sank back in the leather seat, watching Chris unlock his bicycle from a railing opposite the station. The car pulled off onto Whitehall and she craned her neck to watch Big Ben’s face shining like a moon. London’s architecture was spectacular if only you bothered to look up, she thought.
‘I don’t suppose this is a great time to hand in my notice,’ she said, turning to Adam, who was reaching for a decanter of brandy in front of him. For a moment he had a look of complete surprise, then he shrugged and gave a soft laugh.
‘I always knew this day would come sooner rather than later,’ he said. ‘My mother said your book was too good to waste.’