Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
After a morning of police interviews and family gatherings, Liam had finally fallen asleep as the grandfather clock chimed four in the afternoon.
He hadn’t wanted to be in his bedroom. He’d wanted the sound of people around him, so Jen had made him a bed on the window seat, where he would be at the centre of the family who’d rallied around them.
And only then, lulled by the comfort of his family, had he felt secure enough to relax and fall asleep.
‘You did well, Jenny,’ said Kate, coming to sit beside her. ‘It’s been a day I never want to repeat.’
‘Unfortunately it’s not over yet. The police need to see us all again to go over our statements, but for now they’re letting us be.’ She frowned and shook her head. ‘And I’m worried about Sam. He risked his life and saw Alistair’s car fall off the cliff. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.’
‘Then why don’t you find out? I saw him on the beach earlier.’
Jen glanced out the window but couldn’t see him. She stood up and craned her neck. There he was in the distance, where the waves tumbled onto the beach. ‘I think I will.’
‘Good idea,’ said Kate. She passed Jen her old liberty shawl. ‘You’ll need this. It’s quite cool outside.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Jen carefully disentangled herself from Liam and kissed her mother’s cheek as she took the shawl from her. ‘I don’t know how I’d have managed without you.’
‘Ably, I’m sure. Now, go get some fresh air and talk to Sam. I’ll keep an eye on Liam.’
Jen stepped outside and shivered. Tiredness, she supposed as she pulled the shawl around her, grateful for her mother’s thoughtfulness.
The storm had blown over. The sky was a bright, innocent blue, and there was not a white-flecked wave to disturb the sea. All was calm, as if nothing had happened. But it had, and everything had changed.
She suddenly felt shattered and sat down on the bench set amid the sand dunes, watching Sam, hands thrust in pockets, as he stared out to sea. He’d come to her when he was ready. As she sat there, random events of the night flashed into her mind — each one stimulating a different sense:
The vision of Alistair’s threatening silhouette standing in the kitchen.
The sound of Sam’s panicked voice calling to her through the door.
The smell of sodden earth churned up when Sam and Alistair fought each other.
The metallic taste of blood from her split lip.
And, overwhelming everything, was the profound sense of relief as she’d stepped into Sam’s arms and he’d told her, ‘he’s safe. Liam’s safe.’
It was this last memory that she clung to because it counteracted all the other negative ones. She clung to it and one other fact, which was indisputable — a sense of hope had emerged from the tragedy.
Alistair was dead.
The words repeated in her head every few minutes like an echo in a chamber from which it couldn’t escape.
On the one hand, she and Liam were safe. On the other, she felt a massive sense of guilt. Alistair was dead because of her.
She closed her eyes tight shut as she remembered her last sight of him, lifeless, tied to a stretcher.
The rain had plastered his dark hair to his face.
It reminded her of the time they’d taken their first holiday together in Scotland.
The wind had blown his hair off his face, and his blue eyes were even bluer than normal against his tanned skin.
He’d been so handsome, and she’d believed herself to be so much in love.
But those early days of love hadn’t lasted.
He’d always been possessive and controlling, and she hadn’t minded at first — had, in fact, mistaken the signs as love.
But then he’d taken them too far and she’d woken up to what was really going on.
Initially she’d thought she could help him change.
But she’d failed, and she still couldn’t stop herself from feeling guilty, wondering if she’d only tried harder, Alistair might have reverted to being the man she’d first met.
‘Want some company?’ Sam asked.
Startled, she opened her eyes to find Sam standing in front of her
‘Yes. I came out to see if you were OK.’
‘I guess,’ he said. He looked up at the hills, and she could see the pain in his eyes. ‘I can’t get him out of my mind, you know? He looked so… so normal. Not the monster who’d grabbed you and Liam.’
’He wasn’t a monster. Not really. Just someone who was unbalanced.’
‘That makes it all the more of a tragedy.’
‘It does, but it doesn’t make what you did any less heroic.’
He grunted dismissively.
She took his hand in hers. ‘Sam, what you did was amazing.’
‘It doesn’t feel it.’
‘You didn’t kill him. He did that himself. What you did was save my son. And I’ll be forever grateful to you for that.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry I brought all this on you. I feel terrible about what you’ve had to go through.’
‘Maybe we should both stop feeling terrible,’ he suggested with a small smile.
‘Maybe we should.’ She patted the silvered wood of the bench.
‘That’s certainly something my great-grandmother Ngaire would have said.
She was a very practical woman, Ngaire.’ She looked down at the bench, weathered through years of storms. ‘My great-grandfather built this bench for her. It was the place she always sat to drink her first cup of coffee of the day. So when she’d got too old to sit on the sand, the bench appeared. ’
‘Nice.’
Jen laughed. ‘I remember she was cross at first because she thought everyone believed she was too old to sit on the sand.’
‘What changed her mind?’
Jen put her hands under her thighs and swung her legs as more comforting memories filled her exhausted brain. ‘I did actually.’ She turned to him with a grin.
‘Mum said that I always toddled off to be with her, holding my ‘coffee’ — milky weak tea — in my chubby little hands to keep her company. I refused to sit on the sand and always sat on the bench, so she did the same.’ She shrugged. ‘It became a habit after that.’
‘Hm,’ Sam said with a smile. ‘I remember Ngaire. Pretty formidable woman.’
‘Her bark was worse than her bite. She was always lovely to me. Told me all sorts about the family history. I think I’d like to write about it.’
‘Good idea. Might help with the writer’s block.’
‘True!’ She peered around to look at the house. ‘Trouble is, I haven’t got an ending yet. Ngaire never mentioned anything about not owning the house, so I still don’t know what’s going on there.’
‘Is there any possibility someone will sell it without your family’s knowledge?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I don’t think Mum knows. But now I’ve fewer things to worry about, I’ll look into it. Try to get to the bottom of it.’
‘Good. It’ll be a shame if your family has to leave with all the history you have with the place. Not least this view, which Ngaire enjoyed.’
‘Yep, for most of her one hundred years.’
‘I guess not much has changed during that time,’ he said, looking south along the coast to where the bay curved towards a promontory, behind which lay Mana Island and further still, Wellington.
He also looked north to where Mount Ruapehu — an active volcano — was barely visible out at sea, at the northern most tip of a great sweep of coastline.
‘I guess not,’ said Jen. ‘The sea still rolls in and out and Kāpiti Island stays the same.’ She stopped swinging her legs and laced and unlaced her fingers. ‘It’s only people who change.’
She could feel his gaze on her, but she didn’t want to meet it. She wanted to talk, and it was easier without looking at him.
‘What is it?’
‘I’m so scared, Sam.’
‘There’s nothing to fear anymore.’
‘Yes, yes, there is. I’m scared for Liam. How can I help him get over all this? Being drugged and snatched in the middle of the night by his father, and that’s without all the rest of the stuff that happened in London. I’m so scared that I’ve completely messed up his life.’
‘You haven’t. You’ve done everything you can to care for him. Besides, he’s young, so he’ll recover.’
She shook her head. She refused to be let off the hook that easily.
‘No, I should never have stayed with Alistair.’ She paused as the memories crammed into her mind, overflowing.
‘At first I thought I could help, and then I couldn’t figure out how to leave.
But, whatever, I enabled him. It is my fault. ’ She closed her eyes.
‘Don’t do that, Jen,’ he said. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Sam’s right,’ said another voice.
Jen opened her eyes to see her mother had joined them, the ever-present tray of coffee mugs in her hands. She’d obviously heard everything she’d said.
‘It won’t do Liam any good to believe that,’ Kate said. ‘You can’t take responsibility for someone else’s actions, only your own. Alistair is gone. It’s time to let yourself off the hook, too.’
‘Easier said than done.’
‘Maybe,’ said Kate, ‘but it’s the only way forward. You need to know you have done nothing except care for Liam, and try to protect and help him. And not least, love him. It’s everything a child needs, and with these things he’ll recover.’
‘I’d like that to be true. But how can you be so sure?’
‘I just am. Put it down to being a wise old lady.’
‘Huh, you’re not old.’
‘Just wise then.’ Kate smiled, handed out the hot drinks and walked back to the house.
Jen looked at Sam, the question still lingering in her eyes. ‘Sam? What do you think?’
He reached out and took her hand in his. ‘All I know is Liam is very sure of you and Kate and all of your family and with people like that around, giving him the best care possible, he’ll survive and thrive. And I’ll always be there for him, if he wants me to be.’ He paused. ‘If you want me to be.’
The note of insecurity in his tone surprised Jen.
‘I…’ she replied.
‘You don’t have to give me an answer to that question yet,’ he said. ‘A lot’s happened, and it’ll take time to recover from it all. But I want you to know that I’m here to support you until… you don’t want me to.’
‘Thank you.’ She paused, wondering what on earth she’d done to deserve someone like Sam in her life. ‘For everything.’
‘You don’t have to thank me.’
‘Why not?’
He shrugged. ‘Because it sounds formal. It’s something you’d say to someone who’d done his duty. Not someone who…’ He shook his head and looked straight ahead, his mouth pulled into a tight straight line as if determined not to utter another word.
‘Who?’
He looked at her and heaved a deep sigh. The determination vanished. ‘Not someone who loves you and who would do anything to protect you and those you love.’
‘Oh,’ she exhaled. His words filled her with happiness, but they also added to her sense of guilt. She knew she loved him, had always loved him, but there was no way she could say it, or act on it.
He turned away, raking his fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry. That was dumb of me. You don’t want to hear that right now.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Look, I’ll leave you in peace and —’
‘Sam,’ she said, and he stopped talking mid-sentence. ‘It’s OK. More than OK. It’s just… timing, I guess.’
‘Right. I’m sorry.’
She shook her head. ‘No apologies required. This is weird for all of us. I need time to process everything.’
‘Yep, of course. You’ve got it.’ He spoke too quickly, obviously regretting what he’d said and wanting to move on.
‘Please, Sam, don’t feel you’ve said anything untoward. Your words, they made me feel…’ She sighed. ‘So good. And I know my future is with you, but I can’t talk about it now. It feels all wrong.’
His face lit up at the word future, and a lovely slow smile settled on his lips.
‘No talking required,’ he said, the smile refusing to subside.
In every fibre of her being, she knew she loved him and trusted him, not only with herself but with the people she loved. And she would tell him that, but not yet.
‘I need time,’ she said.
‘You have it. I’m not going anywhere. I only want you to do what’s best for you and Liam. No-one else. We have all the time in the world.’
She extended her hand to him, and he took it and brought it to his lips. She closed her eyes and, for the first time, felt that perhaps he was right.