Finding Grace(65)

‘Thank you for coming forward,’ I say as the black kettle starts to whistle.

‘It never entered my head not to do so, despite our disagreement at the café.’ She stands, takes an oven glove and picks the kettle up. The shrill whistle stops abruptly.

I expect her to apologise for tipping tomato juice in my lap but she doesn’t. Instead, she looks pointedly at me before pouring boiling water into a teapot and replacing the kettle on its stand.

Somewhere nearby, the dogs start up in a cacophony of barking again but Barbara seems quite unfazed. The kitchen might be in dire need of an upgrade but it’s warm and comfortable and I feel my shoulders relax a little.

‘I feel like I’ve known you for a long time, Lucie. Not to speak to, of course, but I’ve become accustomed to seeing you around the area. Particularly since your husband started his political career.’

I nod as she removes the lid from the teapot and stirs the contents thoughtfully.

‘But I actually noticed you long before that. When you’ve been around as long as I have, you sometimes you get an inkling – often more than an inkling – that a person is hiding something, presenting an acceptable face to the world that is not necessarily their true persona.’

She’s talking in riddles, but that’s fine. I’ll stick with it. Then it occurs to me; could she be gearing up to tell me something about my husband? Perhaps something I’ll wish I hadn’t found out from his arch enemy…

‘And you think Blake is one of those people? Someone who’s putting on an act?’

‘I spoke out of turn at the café and I’m sorry for that. I was angry, and I cast doubt on your husband because I felt so angry and bitter. The truth is, I actually believe him to be one of the most solid and principled people I know.’

She sighs and, for the first time, smiles at me.

‘I confess I’m not a big fan of your husband, Lucie, as well you know, but no, I wasn’t talking about Blake.’ She pours tea into a Royal Albert floral china cup and pushes it gently across the table to me. ‘I was actually referring to you, dear.’





Forty-Six





Sixteen years earlier





As Lucie climbed the two flights of stairs up to Stefan’s room, she noticed all the doors of the other bedsits were closed and she couldn’t hear any noise coming from them.

Perhaps Stefan had fallen asleep. That would explain him not being downstairs to meet her in his desperation to explain the contents of his rucksack and, if Gregg was to be believed, his involvement in someone’s death.

When she got up to the top floor of the house, Lucie hesitated outside Stefan’s door.

Silence. The music track must have come to a natural end.

She thought about knocking, but if he was deep asleep he probably wouldn’t hear her. But she felt justified in walking in if it was open. He’d sent a cab to collect her for goodness’ sake.

She pushed the handle down and opened the door slowly. The main shadeless bulb was on and…

Lucie’s hand shot to her mouth as she let out a shriek.

Rhonda lay naked on the bed, a needle discarded at the side of her arm.

There was no sign of Stefan.

She rushed over to Rhonda, a shiver settling on her skin. Dribble ran from the corner of the girl’s mouth and her eyes were closed. She looked deathly pale and although Lucie could see she was breathing, the rise and fall of her bony chest seemed very shallow and irregular.

Lucie seized a grubby sheet and pulled it across for modesty. She shook Rhonda’s arm gently and called her name but there was no reaction.

‘Stefan!’ she screeched, her hand plunging into her handbag for her phone.

Rhonda groaned. Thank God!

Lucie abandoned her search, threw down her handbag and reached for the girl’s hand.

‘Rhonda, it’s me, Lucie. What have you taken?’

Lucie’s own hand shook as she squeezed Rhonda’s cool, flaccid flesh. It felt so surreal. Here was Rhonda, lying naked on Stefan’s bed… Lucie was supposed to be coming over for him to convince her of his innocence, not to be faced with this.

Lucie’s gaze was drawn to a table in the corner. Small plastic bags full of white powder and pills similar to the gear in Stefan’s rucksack were piled on top of it.

Her head whipped round at a shuffling noise at the door.

‘What are you doing?’ Lucie let Rhonda’s hand fall away as she stood up, aghast.

Stefan didn’t speak. He had a camera and was taking snaps of her.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

As she moved back over to the bed, she heard footfall on the stairs. Stefan turned and shook his head. ‘Don’t come in, we’ve got a problem in here. The girls can’t handle the gear.’

Lucie thought she heard a stifled giggle.

‘Who’s out there? What are you talking about?’ She reached for her bag and pulled out her phone. ‘I feel like I don’t know you, I…’

He sprang across the room and snatched the phone and bag from her.

‘Kind of you to bring my gear back.’ He grinned, peering in at the rucksack.

Stefan laughed as her mouth fell open.

‘Get your head out of the clouds, Lucinda. How did you think I made my money?’