Epilogue
EPILOGUE
Jules
It’s like time stood still in Stow-on-the-Wold when we pull onto the road that rings its lake. It’s a blustery August morning, fitting as these windy days were my father’s favorite. He didn’t mind that it cooled his wax down too fast and always left a window open. Wind, he said, carries scent and stories and can tell you what’s coming your way before you see or hear it. I roll the window down a crack and lift my nose to catch it.
“What do you smell?” Omar asks.
“Bread, laundry detergent.”
“No brimstone?”
“I’m still nervous,” I admit as we round the small lake toward the cemetery where my father was laid to rest.
“Me, too. You think he would have liked me?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Does it matter?” I laugh.
“Very much.” He sounds solemn. “I can’t imagine what I’d do if my family didn’t accept you. In our culture, marriage isn’t just two people coming together, it’s two families becoming one. And so yeah, I’d like to think that wherever he is, he approves of me.”
Lord have mercy, this man and his words. “Oh, Omar, he’d call you a break, too. You act like I’m special, but so are you. You’re the best person I know. The best friend I’ve ever had. You’re my home.”
“I love it when you sing my praises. Don’t stop.”
“Oh, stop. I’m trying to be serious.”
“So am I. It’s nice as hell to know someone thinks I’m amazing because when we get back to Houston, I need to figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands. “And you’ve been doing so well.” I asked him to stop talking about Houston like it was a definite thing. We’ve been meeting with the private investigator, and the most promising thing we’ve discovered is that two of the people who testified to hearing me argue with my father left the village soon after, and when we traced them, they were living higher on the hog than pensioners from The Potteries should be. But that in itself wasn’t enough to make the Crown Prosecutor even give us an appointment.
Especially since the tribunal went as expected, and I’ve been officially disbarred from the Courts of England and Wales. I’ve thrown myself into making candles, and my Etsy store is doing well—I earn more there than I did as a pupil, and now I only go to the Effra as a punter. But I love what I did, and if I can get this conviction overturned then I can reapply.
But all of that is a pipe dream, and I need to manage my expectations.
“I was going to wait until we got home to tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
He continues like he didn’t hear me. “Because I didn’t want to overshadow this visit.”
“Omar,” I screech and nudge his elbow.
He keeps his eyes on the road, his expression set on neutral, but he’s fighting a smile. “But I think I should tell you now because I think you’ll want him to know, too.”
“If you don’t start talking?—”
“I got an email from Noah Royale this morning. He and his mother are flying to London tomorrow.”
My excitement fizzles. “And?” I didn’t want to talk about them either. I was still sore from her rejection and in general didn’t want anything to do with them other than to forget them.
“He said he’d talked to his parents like we asked and even recorded it so he could listen to everything again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.”
“And?” I repeat with exasperation.
“And…he sent me the recording. And I want you to hear the end of it.”
“Okay.”
“You ready?”
“Very.” I grip my hands in my lap and try to be calm and not scream at him to hurry.
He chuckles and then hits the play button on the dash of his car.
“Of course I knew. Do you think I’m an idiot?” a man’s voice shouts.
I hit pause. “Who is that? ” I gasp.
“Silas Royale,” he responds.
“That is not Silas Royale. I heard him through the door. His voice is as gentle as a lamb. He’s not capable of?—”
“Stop talking and listen. You’re ruining the mood,” he snaps and presses play.
“Nick, what are you saying?” Nora’s voice cuts in, sharp and distressed.
“I’m saying you still loved him. You think I didn’t know that you were siphoning off my money to pay for your love child? I found your diary. And I found the transactions and decided to pull that thorn in my side out once and for all.”
“What does that even mean?” Mrs. Royale cries, and this time, her voice quavers.
“It means I hired some kid who was up for the job and paid him to get rid of both of them. I don’t know how she survived. But then it didn’t matter because everyone thought she did it.”
“You let a child go to jail for murder?”
“What, should I have gone instead?”
“Yes!” she shrieks.
“Mama, calm down.” Noah’s gravelly voice comes on tape for the first time.
“No. I have lived with you and you knew and didn’t say anything?”
“Why would I?”
“When he died, so did you. And you never once asked about your own daughter. You didn’t hire her a lawyer or finally confess to me so you could go be by her side. I didn’t think you cared.”
“Oh my God,” Noah’s voice again.
“Nick, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. And what are you going to do? Walk out of here and go tell the police? Noah’s my son and he wouldn’t betray me.”
The recording cuts off.
I sit back in the seat. “He did it? It was him ?”
“Yes.”
“And they’re coming here to attest to that?”
“Yes.”
“But why? He’s her husband.”
“And you’re her child. I haven’t spoken to her but Noah has said she’s incredibly remorseful. She wants to do the right thing. The least she can do is tell the truth so we can get your case reopened.”
The sob that wrenches free from the depths of my soul where all my hope was buried is so loud that it scares me. I throw my head back and scream. I scream until my throat is raw and then I laugh. I’ve never been so happy I don’t think ever.
“Yeah. I had the same reaction, but in my head cause I wanted to surprise you.”
I launch myself across the console and grab his neck. The car swerves, and he puts one arm around me and tightens his grip on the steering wheel with the other. “I’m going to be free, Omar.” I say it, and I can’t believe I’m saying it.
“Yes, you are. And you can tell your dad that he can rest easy because you’re fine now.”
I nod and shake my head in wonder, letting him go and falling back in my seat, my body sprawled, my eyes staring at nothing on the ceiling.
“Thank you.”
“You’re the one who broke into the house.”
“But you’re the one who broke the chains around my heart so I could. I’d given up.”
“Only for a minute. You were going to get back to it. You just needed a break.”
I chuckle. “I see what you did there.”
“Yeah. Now let’s go and see your dad.”
I wait while he walks around to get my door and take the hand he offers to help me out. And we walk hand in hand to go and tell my dad the news.
“You know, I understand why they call you The Mastermind. You play the long game.”
He bends his head to kiss me. “Yeah, but for you, I’m playing the forever game.”
“And you’re winning.”