Bloody Mary (14 page)

With disgust the truth dawned on Alan Taylor: the woman he desired with all his heart was his birth twin, and Mary Miller had been telling the truth. He felt an overwhelming urge to vomit.

I can see how ridiculous it is now, but I had no idea how vengeful and cruel Darren could be, and that I’d only seen the pleasant side of his devious character. Oh, how wonderful it would be to have the ability to see into the future and stop yourself from making mistakes. But mistakes I made, absolutely. I’d been refreshingly delighted by what I perceived to be his personality. Little was I to know. The next morning I stepped from my weary bed with a wonderfully unusual spring in my step, and made a hot mug of tea, wishing and hoping that I could see Darren sooner rather than later. I was too naïve to see what he was up to. As I say, foresight would be a wonderful gift.

Miserable, watching but not seeing, listening but not hearing, the television, Sophie suspected Darren must have gone to the local again after his mysterious trip to Derby, and she was getting increasingly irritated by his return to drinking to excess every night. Not only did it cost a fortune, especially when she paid for all the bills and housekeeping with her credit cards, money better spent on things for the baby, but it made his breath offensive, and, quite frankly, he became a bore after the downing the first couple. And a danger to her and her child if his mood was upset.

She failed to register any delight, not even looking at him as he let himself through the front door into the warm living room, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it across the sofa instead of hanging it up. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t hold her tongue. “Been to the pub again?”

Darren took one of their best crystal glasses, a wedding present from his brother, from the cabinet and poured a large measure of whisky, gulping back the first glass and replenishing the glass. “Nope. I’ve been to see your copper friend at the police station.”

Now she stared at him, noticing the swelling, bruising, the dried blood on his lips and chin for the first time. “Oh my God, Darren! What happened to you?”

He sat on the second sofa beside his strewn jacket with an arrogant stance. “Just your friend taking his pathetic anger out on me, that’s all!” Control was fantastic, things were about to get exciting.

“PC Taylor did that to you!”

“You bet he did! He’s jealous of me because he’s in love with you and you’re my woman.”

Sophie snatched her hot chocolate from the table, averting her eyes, she’d suspected as much from the way Alan looked at her the past couple of times he’d visited. “Don’t be so silly, of course he isn’t!” It didn’t occur to her to wonder why Darren had gone to the police station in the first place.

“He is. Why don’t you go and see him, ask him yourself?” Darren was loving every second, although he managed to hold his sincere expression. “I also went to see your friend, Mary Miller, and we had a very interesting chat.” Sophie’s jaw fell, stunned, she gripped the handle of the mug tightly to stop herself from dropping it. “Nice enough lady, a bit crazy about the edges maybe, but she seems sound.”

Panic had welled up inside Sophie. What was her husband doing? What was going on? Why was he saying these words to her? She replaced the mug on the table and joined Darren with a drink, hers a brandy, shakily poured as he watched on, amused. By the time she sat back down she was trembling, the glass shuddering in her hand. “Darren, stop it. I don’t know what’s going on, I don’t know what, I mean, how do you know, I mean. Mrs Miller. She’s a nutter, she’s…”

Her words tailed off and the silence was deafening to her ears. She wanted to cry. Darren quietly finished his drink and refilled the glass, drank some off the top and seated himself beside his distraught wife, placing a caring arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay, I’ll look after you, I’ll take you away from all of this. Less than three weeks before we go now. Once we’re in Mallorca you can start a new life, you and the baby, away from all of this.”

Sophie clutched her tummy, protective of the life inside her, confused by Darren’s words. Was he being nice? If so, why go and see that woman? Why bring PC Taylor into things? “Why did you go and see PC Taylor? Why Mrs Miller? I just don’t understand.”

“I had to find out the truth in both cases. Mrs Miller’s not lying, I have your birth certificate here.” He produced the document from his pocket, and held it up for her. “Harold and Beryl did adopt you, Mary was only fifteen when she had you, they adopted you, Soph. They’re not your real parents.”

“But I phoned Mum, she said she…”

Darren slid to the end of the sofa and hugged her close. “Sssshhhh. Beryl’s a liar. I always expected as much, which is why I’ve never got on with your parents, I knew they weren’t good for you, although, of course, I never expected this!”

“That’s fine.” Darren took a gulp of whisky. “And I went to see Taylor for exactly the reason I said. He’s been hovering around you like a bad smell, and, I mean, you’ve got to admit he’s a good-looking bloke, well, I wanted to warn him off, tell him not to come here again.”

The words were swirling in her head, she had no knowledge of truth or lies any more, this was all too confusing for her to contemplate. The sudden tiredness swamped her, aided by the drink she’d now finished, no longer as tolerant to alcohol as she had once been. She shrugged from Darren’s grip. “I’m going to bed now.”

As soon as her head hit the pillow, Sophie let the tears flow, not understanding, not wanting to understand.

The boxes for the move abroad, which were provided by the removals company, were delivered in the morning, and Sophie relished the mundane task of packing, it would take her mind off all the beastly things that had been happening recently. She was still perplexed over Darren’s revelations the previous night, no longer knowing what to think, and was relieved when he’d gone to work that morning, she wasn’t sure she could cope with any more discussions regarding her parentage. Every time Mary Miller came to the forefront of her mind she dismissed the thoughts. Beryl was her mother, Harold was her father. Mrs Miller was just some crazed weirdo who enjoyed messing with other peoples’ lives because she had nothing better to do in her sad little world. But then the flip-side would arise. Mary wasn’t a liar, Beryl and Harold were. During the course of the morning her eagerness to move to Mallorca increased to fever pitch, she needed to escape, run away, and the next couple of weeks couldn’t pass quickly enough.

Sophie put the kettle on for her fourth cup of tea since waking, wrapping the excess crockery and boxing it as the water heated to boiling, leaving just enough to see them through before the imminent move. She was oblivious that Darren had called in sick once more, and was waiting on my doorstep for me to answer his fervent knocking.

I pulled the door open a crack, and, seeing Darren waiting, opened it wide, with a welcoming grin. “Darren! Come in.” He stepped in from the frost, hugging his jacket across his body, and followed me to the living room, sitting in the spot he’d vacated the previous evening.

His face was battered and bruised, so I questioned how they had happened, and was shocked to hear his version of events, told with a sorrowful face. “Oh, it’s nothing. What with the baby and everything, Soph gets angry sometimes. It’s nothing, just a few bruises.’

Steadying myself on the purple cloaked table, I eased myself into the hard wooden chair. “Sophie can’t have done that, she’s a gentle soul.”

Darren’s eyes fell to the floor, his expression one of deep disdain, and his voice was hushed, mournful. “It’s just her hormones. She’s always been a bit angry, but usually it’s just a few scratches here and there.” His eyes rose to meet mine, the yellowness full of woe. “She’s a bit of a drinker, you see. It just makes her angry sometimes, but when we move I’m sure everything will be better.” He searched dolefully for the words to follow the revelation. “Can we, can we change the subject?”

I swallowed hard, the gulp audible, and I struggled against the bombshell of the lie to find some words. “Of course, I understand.” Although I was confused, was now fully prepared to consider I’d misjudged the man before me, maybe it was time to stop this silly vengeance I’d chosen. Settled complacently in my mind, I found another topic. “Did you find out anything last night, you know, about my son?”

Darren was smug, his plan was drifting along wonderfully, people could be so gullible. He rested a gentle smile on his face, he was going in for the kill now. “Yes, I did. He’s definitely your son, Mary. Nice guy, respectable sort, you know.”

I gasped at the words I so wanted to hear, leaning on the table to alleviate the hugeness of the statement. “I’ve waited so many years for this moment. Does he look like me? What’s his name now? What’s he like?”

Darren laughed, unable to keep his wickedness tempered for much longer. “Well, it’s early days, Mary, and I’ve been driving all over trying to sort out your family. I think it’s about time you gave me something for my trouble, don’t you?”

I had smiled, what a fool, and hoisted my bulky frame from the seat. “Of course, silly me, I am rude! Would you like a cup of tea? Coffee?”

But I fell back into the chair with his unexpected reply, my mind swirling, a turmoil. “Money. I want money. You pay me what I’m due, and I’ll make sure you have your nice little family back together.”

Bewildered, it took me a few minutes to churn the statement through my mind, but eventually I came to my senses and realised this was extortion. Clearly I hadn’t underrated the evilness Darren was capable of and the hatred I had initially felt for him flooded back. Yes, I wanted her family back together, it was my dearest dream, but I had no intention of being blackmailed by anybody. With more vigour than I had mustered for a long time, I stood, grabbed his arm, and forced him through the flat to the front door. “Forget it! Get out of here, get out of my sight, and don’t even think about coming back, you vile bastard.”

Slamming the door behind him, his cocky laughter rattled through the door as the footsteps became more distant, echoing in my ears, contemptuous and cruel. But I was resolute I had done the right thing, for he had no idea that once I was crossed I could be a force to be reckoned with. And I would get retribution now.

Darren was unperturbed with Mary’s refusal, he knew the information he had would coax her around eventually, it was just going to take a little time. He’d leave it a week or two and go back. And anyway, his ingenious plan wasn’t finished, he had one more visit to make before he went home to Sophie.

Harold Waller was astounded when he walked into his office after the latest lecture to find his son-in-law draped comfortably across the spare seat, a large mug of coffee in his hand. “Darren! What are you doing here?” He remained standing, not comfortable with the unanticipated caller, setting the folders he carried onto the desk.

“Oh, Harold, Harold! Just sit down and relax! I’ve got some business I want to discuss with you.”

He was now more wary than ever. Always the type of person to give another a decent chance, he’d wanted to welcome Darren into the family initially, but his son-in-law always managed to raise his heckles, and he’d come to realise he disliked Darren as much as Beryl did. There was a chill in the room, an ominous atmosphere that Harold couldn’t put his finger on, and he felt disturbed. He continued to stand, arms now crossed, head to one side. “What do you want, Darren?”

“Ah, come on, Dad, no need to be so formal. Let’s chat.” Harold winced at the affectionate term, the hairs rose on the back of his neck. “Well, if you insist on standing, who am I to complain! Have you spoken to your daughter recently?” Harold didn’t move a muscle. “Didn’t think so. You see, I know you and the old dragon don’t like me, I know you think your little darling’s too good for me. But that’s tough, really. After all, she loves me, we’re married, and you can’t have her back.”

Harold struggled to keep himself still, the vicious words were biting at him but he didn’t intend to let Darren Delaney see any vulnerability. His jaw tensed. “I suppose if you haven’t spoken to her for a while, you won’t know she’s moving abroad with me, will you!” Harold remained firm. “Yes, we’re going pretty soon, nice villa, bit of sun. Oh, and of course she’ll have my baby there. My Mam and Dad will love having their first grandchild to dote on, they’ll see him every day. It’s just going to be such a perfect life.”

Harold was holding himself so tightly now, the mocking tendrils reaching into his psyche, but he knew any form of reaction would feed the fire of the wicked beast before him. His fists wanted to clench, and he concentrated deeply to keep his fingers relaxed, not wanting to show any sign of distress.

Darren’s jeering laugh was unbearable. “I know about your dirty little secret, Harold. I know all about you shagging an underage girl. Had it from the horse’s mouth. You are a naughty boy. I have to admit, I’d never have expected you of all people to have such a raunchy past. Couldn’t Beryl have babies then? Is Steve the fruit of your loins and some other little schoolgirl as well?”

Harold was finding his staunchness near impossible to keep now, he wanted to wipe the taunting smirk from Darren’s face, stop the cruel words emanating from his lips, and he knew he would have to leave the room soon if the tirade continued. He waved his hand, dismissive. “Just go away, you ignorant idiot, go and find somebody else to bully because I’m not falling for it.” He was relieved with his restraint as he felt through the paperwork on his desk, using his finest acting skills to appear nonchalant.

“Oh, Harold! I won’t be going away. I want you to buy my silence. A couple of thousand should do for now. Of course, if that’s not acceptable to you, I can always let Sophie know what her dear Daddy’s really like. Or perhaps I could introduce Mary Miller to the old dragon, let them talk about old times, compare notes about your sexual performance, maybe. What do you reckon, Dad?”