Angel of Death (36 page)

Was that the royal coat of arms? Yes, she thought it was – there were the lion and the unicorn. The old nursery rhyme floated into her head. The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown. The lion beat the unicorn all round the town . . . what did it mean?

There was probably some real historical incident behind the rhyme. There always was. Nursery rhymes were the last remnants of the old street ballads that served the same office as today’s newspapers.

Her mind had wandered; she was brought back to awareness by another question from the prosecutor.

‘Exactly how long would you say it was between the moment when you ran out of that office and when you returned and rang the police?’

She was honest. ‘I have no idea. Half an hour, perhaps, or as much as an hour. I didn’t look at the time. I was too upset.’

The morning wore on interminably. Question and answer, question and answer . . . it was strangely boring as well as very tense. She had to fight a desire to yawn. Yet her nerves were jumping.

The prosecutor finally stopped asking questions and sat down, but then she had to face the defence counsel.

He decided to start with questions about Tom’s death, about her mental breakdown, her hallucinations. He had her medical reports from that time.

‘You kept hearing people drowning, apparently?’

She swallowed. ‘For a while. Yes.’ She wasn’t going to lie about that. Where was the point? There would be other witnesses to the fact.

There was a suppressed ripple of reaction from those watching, a gasp, then a whisper of comment, and Miranda nervously looked round the court, then, for the first time.

And saw Alex.

Her heart leapt and she began to tremble.

He was sitting just a few feet away from her, wearing a dark suit and white shirt, a blue silk tie, looking magnificent. His skin had a deep, smooth tan that made his hair seem blacker than ever and his black eyes watched her in a way that was unnerving.

She moistened her dry lips with her tongue, looking away. Was he still involved with Elena? Would he be marrying her? Or had he already done so?

‘You were obsessed with drowning, in fact,’ the defence counsel said.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ she whispered.

‘You wouldn’t say it, no, perhaps not,’ he repeated. ‘But is it true? I shall be calling a psychiatrist who worked with you three years ago who says that in his opinion . . .’

The prosecutor was on his feet. ‘Objection, your honour. Hearsay. Not substantiated in evidence as yet.’

‘I agree, Mr Ruddock,’ the judge coldly nodded. ‘The jury will disregard the defence counsel’s last sentence.’

Miranda wished she could sit down; she felt cold and weak. Through the high windows she watched the grey cloudy sky move by relentlessly. Was it raining in the streets? It seemed to her to be raining in here. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears.

When she had finished giving evidence she left the court, to avoid Alex, but found he had anticipated her action and was waiting outside.

His dark eyes were intense, glittering. ‘Miranda . . .’

‘Leave me alone!’ she cried in panic, and began to run but he caught up with her, his legs were longer than hers, he could move faster.

‘Why have you turned against me? I don’t understand!’ he said, taking her arm in his long, hard fingers, and making her stand still.

‘Why do you think?’ she hissed at him, aware of people staring. ‘Don’t bother to go on pretending. I know you were in league with Terry.’

He stared in apparent amazement, his expression so convincing she almost believed him. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I heard you, on the phone. You said he had asked you to keep me on the island until he could come for me.’

‘That wasn’t Terry, that was Neil I was talking to! I’d promised him I’d keep you safe.’

She drew a sharp, painful breath. ‘I don’t believe you!’

‘Ask Neil,’ he shot back.

‘I have, I’ve talked to him about it and he never said . . .’ She stopped, thinking back. What exactly had she said to Neil?

Had she told him what she had overheard? Now that she thought about it, she had a feeling she had been vague, not wanting to go into details, trying to hide her hurt and anger, hating to admit Alex had made such a fool of her.

‘Here he comes now,’ Alex said, looking back up the stone steps. ‘Ask him.’

Neil arrived, breathless and a little flushed from running. ‘What’s going on?’ He looked from her to Alex, back again, frowning. ‘What are you doing, Alex? I told you she doesn’t want to see you again.’

Huskily, Miranda said, ‘Neil, listen, I have to ask you something. I overheard Alex talking to someone on the phone last year. He said something about having promised to keep me on the island until this other person came to get me. I thought he was talking to Terry Finnigan, but he says he was talking to you. Do you remember that? Did you ask him to keep me on the island?’

He frowned. ‘Well, I did ask him to keep an eye on you while you were over there, to make sure you didn’t leave the island until I could come and get you. I was afraid of you being abducted.’ He paused, then added, ‘As you were, in the end. Just as I was afraid you might be. So I was quite right, wasn’t I?’

Miranda couldn’t speak, she was too overwhelmed. She walked on out of the Old Bailey into the close-set streets surrounding it. Alex caught up with her. She stopped and looked up at him. He was so strikingly foreign in this grey place, with his deep tan and jet hair.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘So you should be! If only you’d said something, told me what you were thinking . . .’ He stopped, seeing her wince. ‘Never mind that. Let’s go somewhere and have lunch.’

He put his arm around her and guided her to the kerb, flagging down a black taxi which was heading towards them.

‘I asked her first!’ protested Neil, furious.

Alex turned a dark gaze on him, his face belligerent. ‘You’ve probably seen a lot of her over the past year. I haven’t.’

The taxi stopped. He urged Miranda into the back and told the driver, ‘Charlotte Street, please.’

Miranda couldn’t look at Neil. She leaned back as the taxi moved away. Alex watched her, very close.

‘How could you do that to me?’ he said huskily, voice low. ‘Don’t you know how badly you hurt me? I went mad, trying to get to see you. I didn’t know what I’d done, I thought maybe it was guilt, that you felt badly about sleeping with me, felt you had betrayed your husband. I kept trying to work it out, but how could I guess that you suspected me of conspiring with Finnigan? All this time, Miranda – all these months without setting eyes on you.’

‘Isn’t Elena enough for you?’ she jealously muttered.

‘What?’ He stared at her rigid, averted profile. ‘Elena? What are you talking about?’

‘I know you were in love with her . . .’

‘Years ago, when I was twenty!’

‘And now . . . when she turned up on the island . . . I could see you still cared . . .!’

‘How could I care a pin for her when I’d been in love with you for three years?’

She drew a sharp, incredulous breath, staring into his dark, insistent eyes.

‘Elena was simply a nuisance. She thought she could walk back into my life the way she had walked out of it and find everything the same. But all I wanted to do was make you see how I felt about you. I couldn’t wait to get rid of her so that I could concentrate on you. And then you ran away from me, too, without giving me a clue why.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was hurt, too, can’t you see that, Alex? I thought you had been stringing me along, didn’t really care two pence for me – I’ve been so unhappy.’

He turned her face up towards him. ‘Then let me make you happy. God, Miranda, I’ve missed you.’

‘Me, too.’

Their mouths met, she wound her arms round his neck, clung, close to tears as she realised it was over, she was safe now, and with Alex again.

While they ate a marvellous Greek meal later, Alex told her about his sister’s baby boy, who had been born a month early and had had to stay in an incubator for the first day, but was now a healthy, bouncing nine-month old.

‘They’ve called him Nicos. Wait till you see him! I don’t think Pan wants another one; she hated being kept in bed all those months, and now she’s got this boy she and Charles are satisfied.’

‘I’m so glad for them! I felt guilty, leaving like that.’

‘When you come back, Pan will have a lot to say to you about walking out! Tell me what you’ve been doing – have you had a job? I hope you can give notice at once and come back to Greece with me.’

She laughed. ‘You’re rushing me!’

‘I’m not going to let you escape again.’

Two days later Sean was found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to three years in prison, of which he would probably only serve half, Neil said.

Alex and Miranda were in court. She felt very sorry for Sean. What he had done was very wrong, but he had paid a terrible price. The consequences of his crime had devastated his life. The law’s punishment was nothing compared to the loss of his father, and Nicola.

She and Alex flew back to Greece the following week, and three months later were married, in Dorset, in a medieval church in the village, surrounded by family and friends.

She threw her bouquet deliberately to her mother, who caught it, then looked at it in amazement.

Freddy beamed.