Chapter 21 #2
He was the beloved only son of Martin Baxter, the self-made millionaire behind the Auto d’Or luxury car empire.
The brother of Hannah Baxter, who was Sophie Spencer’s flatmate, best friend and the matchmaker who introduced the pair.
In a sad twist, Hannah was going to be Sophie’s bridesmaid.
And the car Tom died in? A high-performance electric blue Audi RS7 sports car – a wedding gift from his father.
More importantly to this story, however, Tom Baxter was Luc Moreau’s closest friend. They went through high school together, went backpacking through Europe together. Luc was engaged to be married to Tom’s sister, Hannah.
And, for some inexplicable reason, he was the one driving Tom’s car that fateful night.
It was getting harder to blink tears away as Sophie saw Tom’s name again.
His father’s name. Hannah’s name. Had this man who called himself a journalist been to visit the family to ask questions and stir everything up again?
The thought of the Baxters reading this blog was horrific.
Especially when it had, deliberately, appeared on an anniversary that would have been hard enough for Tom’s family anyway.
She should have been there, Sophie thought, as the first rush of a new guilt swept through her.
She’d let the distance – the awkwardness – between herself and Hannah grow and spread and she was suddenly, deeply ashamed of herself.
Ironically, it had been the shared decision to let Luc take the blame for Tom’s death that had kept them in touch for those first years.
Had they all buried the guilt that had been inherent in that bitter mindset?
Had any of the others ever felt that two wrongs weren’t going to make a right?
That destroying Luc because of what had happened to Tom was an unacceptably long step too far?
Sophie pressed her fingers against her mouth to stifle an agonised sob.
She was back to that first image she’d spotted on Luc’s phone at the beach.
The picture of the wrecked car. A door barely hanging on by one hinge.
Wisps of steam still coming from beneath a crumpled bonnet.
Emergency services personnel standing to one side, staring at it with the sombre expressions that advertised this to be the scene of a fatality.
The sea of words was still flowing down the screen but Sophie wasn’t at all sure she could bear to read any more.
She swiped the screen to try and see now much more there was but the action made the decision for her, when she spotted the final image.
One that had been on the front page of one of the tabloids the day after Tom’s funeral.
A stark picture of the hearse that had been a sleek black custom conversion of an Audi as it pulled away from the church doors to carry Tom’s coffin to the cemetery.
Sophie and Hannah clinging to each other, their faces hidden but every nuance of grief visible in their body language and the faces of onlookers, including Martin Baxter, a broken man, his face buried in his hands.
The sound of Luc’s phone ringing made Sophie jump. He put the phone to his ear, listening in silence for several seconds.
‘Yeah… I’ve seen it.’
He turned away from the window and began walking towards the front door of the house, as if he didn’t want Sophie to overhear his conversation.
He didn’t look at her as he went past and that was the moment the realisation hit that perhaps they weren’t going to be facing this together.
That the ashes Raven Vale had stirred up might be enough to destroy the fledging future that she and Luc had brought into being.
Not that he was saying much but his few words of acknowledgement sounded grim.
Sophie caught the words ‘London’, ‘as soon as I can’ and, more disturbingly, ‘a disaster’.
And then he was walking back towards her.
‘That was Paul. My solicitor,’ he said, quietly.
‘He’s also the executive trustee of the Phoenix Foundation.
Looks like any anonymity I wanted to keep regarding Phoenix House is blown.
We’re already getting some backlash from the major sponsors we had lined up.
’ He closed his eyes as he rubbed at his forehead.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to be on a plane first thing in the morning to go and help put out fires.
I need to get back to my apartment to get organised. ’
Finally, he caught and held Sophie’s gaze for more than a heartbeat, it didn’t bring any relief to the heavy dread that was enveloping her.
Had she ever seen him looking this sad?
No. Because she’d been too distraught to notice how anyone else was feeling this time ten years ago.
And she hadn’t seen him again until the day of Zara’s wedding when this had all started.
Heartbreakingly, it felt like it could be ending right now.
With a sob, Sophie threw herself into Luc’s arms, knowing that he would hold her as tightly as she needed to be held right now. With her face buried against his chest, her words were muffled but the desperation was still clear.
‘It’ll be okay,’ she said. ‘We can get through this. I… I love you, Luc.’
It was the first time she’d said it aloud.
She knew that he knew, in the same way that she knew he loved her back.
The way she’d only needed a split second of eye contact after her skin had connected with his that first time to…
just know that the feelings were as intense on his side as hers.
Beyond a shadow of doubt, even though no words had ever been uttered.
It felt like they’d shared those three little words countless times since the secret wedding at the Villa Céleste.
Every time they hadn’t been able to break their eye contact.
Through every touch and kiss and sound of their names being called in the heights of passion.
And… oh… that entire night when they’d simply held each other, as emotionally vulnerable as any human could ever be.
They’d both been wrapped in love that night, like the softest, warmest blanket imaginable.
But these were real words. Sent into the air. Hanging there as if they were in a cartoon balloon for the whole world to see.
‘I love you, too, Sophie.’ Luc’s voice rasped against her ear. ‘More than I could ever tell you, even if I lived for a thousand years. I’m… sorry…’
‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. This is Raven Vale’s doing, not yours.’ Sophie knew she sounded too fierce but she could feel desperation seeping out of cracks that were appearing somewhere deep inside her. In her heart?
But they knew there was something to be sorry about. Too many things, for both of them. The reminders were also hanging in the air, glowing, like the eyes of malevolent creatures watching them from the dark.
Luc held her face between his hands. He pressed his lips against her forehead. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said. ‘As soon as I can.’
Sophie nodded. She wanted to tell him she loved him again but the words wouldn’t come out. They were stuck.
In one of those cracks.
* * *
At 3 a.m. Luc was pacing the floor of his Draguignan apartment. He couldn’t sleep. He picked up his phone, wanting to call or message Sophie but he stopped himself before he could touch her number.
She might be asleep. She might be escaping, at least briefly, the painful space that Raven Vale had not only resurrected but had thrown open to anyone who wanted the lift that soaking in other people’s misery, past or present, had the ability to provide.
He found himself opening that blog page again. Shaking his head at the constantly changing figures recording the number of ‘likes’ this post was receiving.
Mindlessly, he scrolled again. Straight to the sickening memories that image of the wrecked car brought back.
Tom had been so damn happy only seconds before.
Laughing and singing the old classic about getting married in the morning.
The deer had been standing in the middle of the road as they came around that corner.
Blinded by the headlights. Swerving had been instinctive.
Who wanted to be responsible for a death?
They’d both felt the moment control was lost but there was no time to say anything, or even feel anything as the bright blue car spun and then flipped and rolled.
Tom’s door had been almost torn off and he’d been hurled out.
How had that happened? Luc was struggling to understand as he crawled from the wreckage to the shape that was his friend’s body lying on the verge.
He had seen him fumbling with the catch of his safety belt before the engine had been started.
Had he been singing loudly enough to cover the sound of it clicking properly into the lock?
Was it possible the catch been released somehow as their bodies and objects were hurled around in a violent vortex, smashing against the ground more than once?
It didn’t matter once Luc got close enough to touch Tom. To see his eyes wide open but hear the harsh, whistling sound of his breathing.
‘Don’t tell them…’
‘Don’t tell who?’
‘Dad…’ The sound was like a gasp that was trying, but failing, to be a scream. ‘Sophie… ’specially Sophie… You can’t tell her, Luc…’
‘Tell her what?’
But Tom was reaching for Luc. They both knew he could be dying and there was nothing Luc could do but to take this person he loved so much into his arms. It was in that moment, with Tom’s face so close to his own, his eyes still open, that Luc saw it.
The pinpoint pupils.
‘What have you taken? Oh, God, Tom… what have you taken?’ He had to find out. It could make a difference if doctors didn’t know. The difference between life and death? The memory of seeing Tom in the tunnel so many years ago was there in his head. ‘Was it smack?’
‘…yeah. The good stuff…’ Tom’s lips curved. He was still high, wasn’t he? ‘Met a guy… in the loo… just one line… for old times’ sake…’