Justin nodded. ‘I’ll be at the bar,’ he said, intending to stick around until the brother showed up. ‘You might want to do yourself a favour and find someone who doesn’t talk with his fists,’ he suggested. ‘You only get one life. Why waste it on someone like that?’
‘I don’t intend to,’ she assured him. ‘I’m going to college. Gonna get away from him.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’ Justin smiled, despite the sharp ache in his jaw.
Going back to the bar, keeping one eye on the girl until the brother arrived, Justin rang Jessica. He needed answers. If he wasn’t going to get those answers from Alicia, then he needed to meet up with Jessica, in private – something, it was occurring to him, she seemed pretty damn desperate to do. She might not have all the answers, but she was Alicia’s bloody sister. She would have some of them. Or she ought to. If she’d been ‘sworn to secrecy’, as she’d repeated more than once, Justin wanted to know exactly what about. The affair? The pregnancy? If she’d known about the affair, and he was working on the assumption that she had, then he needed the details. He hadn’t wanted to hear them before, but he did now, every single sordid one of them.
Arranging to meet Jessica the next evening, Justin ended his call, and watched as a man came into the pub and walked directly across to the girl. Seeing her jump up to meet him, he waited for her to pass by. Relieved when she gave him a thumbs up as she did, he knocked the dregs of his pint back and headed out after them.
He’d gone no more than a few yards when his progress was cut short, by first one, then two, and finally three thuggish men. Justin didn’t have time to consider his options before he was dead-legged from behind.
‘Oh dear, poor sod’s legless, ain’t you, mate?’ someone said tauntingly, close to his ear.
Justin felt his collar being clutched and tugged tight to his throat. An arm slid around his upper torso. They were obviously going to kick the shit out of him, he guessed, his gut turning over. He would stand no chance of fighting back against three of them. All he could do was pray they stopped before they killed him.
Justin guessed wrong.
Jesus Christ, no. Seeing the sharp glint of the blade in his peripheral vision, he felt sweat prickle his skin, saturating the shirt on his back, as he realised what was about to happen.
‘Don’t,’ Justin begged, swallowing against the arm now constricting his airway. ‘Please, don’t…’ His words died on his lips as he felt the knife going in, sliding slickly under his ribs, then a sharp, violent twist, before the blade was pulled out.
Please, God, no. Justin sank from his knees to all fours as the men backed away. This wasn’t happening. Please don’t let this be happening. Sophie. As searing pain ripped through his side, Justin blinked the perspiration from his eyes and struggled to get to his feet, only to find the use of his limbs had deserted him.
He stared at the pavement and sucked in a breath. It stopped painfully short of his chest. Nausea churned his stomach. His heart thudded, loud and sluggish in his head.
No! He started counting.
Tried to control his involuntary shuddering as the crimson stain on the hall floor seeped towards him. Shaking his head, he blinked against the bright light that shone through the cracked mirror. Then blinked again, hard, as blood seeped from the cracks, rich red globules, tears for his children. Warm blood. His blood.
His mind screaming, he attempted to shut out the sounds – melodic laughter, chimes tinkling. But they weren’t chimes. They were church bells. And his baby was singing.
Justin jolted, gulping back the salty taste in his throat as the dark closed in around him.
Fifty-Six
JESSICA
Finally, Jessica thought, tearing the note of the address Justin had given her from the pad and slipping it safely into her handbag. He was a typical man, bottling up his emotions, trying to be macho when his poor heart was steadily breaking. But he’d reached the point where he needed to share, and she would be there for him.
She wouldn’t tell Alicia, obviously. She had brought it all on herself, but she was utterly devastated, poor soul. She’d come home soaked through to the skin and covered in mud. Jessica’s supposed-to-be-amusing quip about her having been rolling around with a rugby team hadn’t raised even the smallest of smiles. Quite the opposite, in fact. She handed her their usual cure-all cup of tea, and Alicia had promptly burst into tears.
Pouring herself a glass of wine, Jessica supposed she ought to go up and check on her. She’d been worried she’d drowned herself in the bath at one point. Now, since she hadn’t heard a peek from her – not so much as the squeak of a floorboard since Alicia had gone to her bedroom – she was worrying she might have taken more than the one sleeping tablet she’d suggested might help her rest.
Five minutes later, a tray in her hands, Jessica nudged the spare bedroom door handle down. ‘Only me,’ she said quietly, in case Alicia was sleeping, and then went on in.
Oh, not sleeping then. She saw her sister silhouetted against the window. What on earth was she doing standing there in only her skimpy pyjamas? She’d catch her death of cold after coming home soaking wet. She really was a worry.
‘Ali?’ she said, placing the tray on the dressing table. ‘Are you all right, sweetie?’
Alicia didn’t answer. She simply continued to stare up at the stars, as if looking for the answer to the universe.
Uh-oh. She was swaying on her feet, Jessica noted, her gaze shooting to the bedside table and an almost empty bottle of wine. Oh dear, it looked like Alicia was attempting to anaesthetise the pain again – as if alcohol ever could, particularly if you didn’t partake on a regular basis. And Alicia didn’t. Or at least she hadn’t for a very long time. Obviously, she’d snuck the bottle up in her bag. She really ought to let Justin know about this, Jessica thought. Alicia obviously wasn’t coping at all.
Sighing, Jessica went across and placed an arm around her. ‘What are you doing, sweetheart?’ she asked kindly. ‘You know drinking doesn’t help anything. It only ever brings things into sharp focus.’
‘It doesn’t,’ Alicia said, reluctant to let go of the glass Jessica was attempting to prise from her hand. ‘It just makes everything more fuddled.’
‘Muddled,’ Jessica corrected her, steering her gently away from the window.
‘Blurry.’ Jessica nodded, allowing herself to be led to the bed. ‘It’s like there’s two voices in my head. One’s saying, “Stop doubting yourself.” And the other one’s saying—’
‘You’ve drunk too much, Alicia. You really shouldn’t—’
‘Exactly.’ Alicia plopped down. And swayed. ‘I’m a lush. A drunken slush. Someone who gets para… paral… as drunk as a fish and then throws herself at the nearest man.’
Oh God. Jessica sighed again, heavily. Now she was slurring her words. ‘A skunk, Ali.’
‘Sorry?’ Alicia closed one eye and looked at her askew.
‘It’s as drunk as a skunk or drinks like a… never mind.’ Jessica smiled tolerantly. ‘Come on, tuck up under the duvet and have a nice sleep, why don’t you? I’ve brought you some toast.’ She tried to tempt her in hopes of getting something down her to soak up the alcohol. ‘You’ll feel better for a bite to eat and a nice cup of tea.’
‘No. Uh-uh.’ Alicia shook her head and got unsteadily to her feet. ‘I’m going on Facebook.’
Jessica watched, perplexed, as Alicia groped for her phone and jabbed randomly at it. ‘Do you think I am?’ She looked back to Jessica after a second, her eyes slightly unfocussed and full of uncertainty. ‘A drunken trollop, I mean. I bet Justin thinks I am. Do you think I am, Jess?’