Deep Blue Sea (9 page)

‘You knew Julian,’ said Diana. ‘You know he wouldn’t do something like this.’

‘I haven’t known him for a long time.’

‘But even if he was suicidal, wouldn’t he have given a hint?’ said Diana, refusing to give up. ‘He was talking about climbing Everest two hours beforehand. And why not leave a note or something?’

‘Not everyone who commits suicide leaves a note.’

‘Not many. You know that.’ She could feel her voice faltering. If she couldn’t persuade her sister to help her, even after she had layered on the guilt, reminded her how much she owed her, then what hope did she have of finding out the truth? Because Rachel was the only person she trusted to do it. She was the only one she had ever trusted. Rachel had been her rock. When their father had left them, she had been the one who kept the family together – sorted out the bills, the domestic chores, whilst their mother had fallen to pieces. And when Diana had got pregnant with Charlie, after a stupid, drunken holiday one-night stand, Rachel had convinced her that her life was not over. That she could still achieve her dreams and ambitions; she would just have a baby to take along on the journey. Julian and Rachel hadn’t always seen eye to eye, but that was because they were so similar in so many ways. Strong, accomplished. Dependable. More than that – they were the two most brilliant people she knew.

Diana took a deep breath in a final attempt to make her change her mind.

‘Look, you’re convinced David Kelly was murdered. Same with Princess Diana; you never believe the official line on anything.’

‘And look where it got me.’

‘Exactly. And you still believe that Malcolm McIntyre was guilty, don’t you?’

Diana knew it was a low blow, but she was desperate. Malcolm McIntyre was the flamboyant businessman Rachel had been chasing when she was caught on the phone-hacking charge. She had been convinced he was involved in a sex ring and had set out to prove it with methods that had got her arrested.

‘That’s different,’ said Rachel icily. ‘I knew he was dirty before I started. I just got too . . . close when I was looking for evidence to back it up.’

‘But this is my Malcolm McIntyre, Rach. I know Julian’s death is wrong somehow, I
know
it, it just doesn’t add up. And I need the evidence to back it up. That’s all.’

Diana squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing what else to say, her heart feeling leaden with defeat.

‘You know the flights out of Bangkok are pretty busy this time of year.’

Her sister’s comment made her sit up straight.

‘You might be forced to pay for a first-class ticket,’ added Rachel.

‘I think I can manage that.’ Diana swallowed.

Her sister took a mouthful of curry. Her whole mood had changed. A switch had flipped, and dynamic, unstoppable Rachel was back. Diana almost grinned with relief.

‘All right, tell me exactly what happened at the party,’ Rachel said. ‘Don’t leave anything out. Start with the guest list – no, start with the invitations; whose idea was it, yours or Julian’s?’

Diana let her breath out. Her sister was coming home. She hoped it would be worth it.

9

‘You’re going to need warmer clothes than that.’ Liam was standing in the doorway of her bedroom as Rachel threw a bunch of T-shirts into a holdall on the bed.

‘Well it’s all I’ve got. I haven’t exactly kept up with the latest fashions in Soho.’

‘Are you sure you really want to do this?’

As soon as Diana had gone back to her hotel on the island, Rachel had phoned Liam for a summit meeting, explaining everything that had happened in the past few hours: Diana’s visit, her plea for Rachel to return home with her.

‘I thought you were all for me going back to England. Go and make up with your sister before it’s too late, isn’t that what you said?’ she added sharply.

Rachel knew she was being unnecessarily harsh, that Liam was only concerned for her well-being, but she was taking it out on him because the answer was: no, actually she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to go back to England. And yet she had allowed herself to be emotionally blackmailed, allowed Diana to make Julian’s death seem like a story waiting to be unravelled. Once she had got over the shock of the news, Rachel’s first thought had been that something felt wrong about his suicide. That Diana thought so too only sent prickles of macabre curiosity around her body.

She picked up a hot-pink vest top emblazoned with the words
Keoni’s Tiki Beach
, then threw it back on to a chair. Liam was right about that too: she wasn’t at all prepared for going back to England, clothes or anything else. She sat down on the edge of the bed and let out a long breath.

When she glanced up, she saw that her business partner was watching her. They hadn’t seen each other since the night at the beach. It had been his day off immediately afterwards, and the embarrassment between them now was palpable.

‘Look, Liam, I have to do this,’ she said. ‘But I can only do it if it’s all right with you.’ She looked at him, almost willing him to forbid her to go, give her some excuse to tell Diana. And of course, she wanted him to miss her. That more than anything.

But Liam just shrugged.

‘Of course it’s all right, of course you should go. Just . . . how long do you think you’ll be?’

‘Two weeks. Maybe three.’

‘Well, Sheryl can start tomorrow and Jeff can start in a week.’

Rachel felt panic rise in her throat, instantly imagining Liam and Sheryl alone on the boat, Liam stripped to the waist, Sheryl in her skimpy bikini. Even worse was the idea that they might share the same intimate banter and mutual flirtation she herself had with him day in day out.
Please don’t
, she thought, looking at him miserably.

She reminded herself that she had no claim over her business partner. Liam had never had a serious relationship in the entire time that they had known one another, and the few flings that he had had – the particularly beautiful tourist, the sexually confident, slightly slutty American barmaid – Rachel had kept discreet tabs on, using every ounce of her journalistic know-how to assess their threat. In any event, Liam had always given the impression that they were nothing serious, and secretly Rachel had considered this to be a good sign. A sign that Liam was actually hopelessly in love with her and, like herself, was just waiting for the right opportunity to declare it. But since their kiss on the beach, as painful as it was to admit, Rachel was no longer under any illusion that he was interested in her. More worryingly, now that the issue of their relationship had been confronted, now that they had finally, categorically clarified that they were ‘just good friends’, she wondered if Liam would quickly move on and find a proper girlfriend, rather than a business partner it was easy to spend his evenings with.

‘Great,’ she said, pasting on a false smile, ‘Sheryl starts tomorrow. That’s just great.’ She zipped up her bag with finality. It was probably a good thing to put some distance between them. ‘Well, I suppose that’s that, then.’

‘You
are
coming back?’

‘Of course I’m coming back,’ she said lightly. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because I think you miss it,’ he said, pushing his hair away from his forehead. ‘Running around chasing down stories.’

‘I’m not chasing a story,’ said Rachel. ‘I’m trying to help my sister get closure.’

Was she? Was that it? Or was Liam right: did she really have an itch still needing to be scratched? Deep down, she was scared. Over the past three years, she had managed to push all her memories and feelings about her life on the newspaper into one dusty corner of her mind, locking it away – she hoped for ever. But now, now it was all coming rushing back. She had been associate editor of London’s
Sunday Post
when a sting involving a senior-level banker and a prostitute had been a front-page splash, leading to a spike in circulation. It had put fat-cat-bashing back on the menu and the editor, Alistair Hall, had wanted more of the same – the newsroom had been in an arms race to see who could get there first. Rachel had been aware of Julian’s unfaithfulness and she had hated him for it. Infidelity ruined lives, destroyed families – she knew that better than anyone. That had been her motivation; she had always maintained that, although she had been unwilling to spell it out to Diana. When the news team had brought the story of Julian’s infidelity with an eighteen-year-old model to conference, the daily meeting they had at the paper to discuss the stories, she hadn’t fought to kill it. Short-term pain for Diana would mean a happier life in the long run. Or so she had tried to justify her actions to herself.

Liam was looking at her as if he wanted to say something.

‘What?’ said Rachel, all thoughts of newspapers forgotten. She had the sense that he wanted to talk about that night, about the kiss. She was conflicted. Part of her needed to know for sure that he wasn’t in love with her, that the kiss and the subsequent rejection hadn’t been some big misunderstanding. The other part didn’t want to inflict any more pain or rejection.

But it had been two days ago, two days she had spent trying not to speak to him, and now it seemed the moment had passed.

‘Just don’t go getting used to it again,’ he said. ‘I know how much you loved that life, and it’s so easy to get sucked back in.’

‘Don’t be silly. When you go back to London, I don’t notice you chomping at the bit to stay.’

‘The difference between you and me is that I chose to leave.’

He paused before he continued. ‘I just think part of you wants to go back, permanently. You’ve never tried to put proper roots down here.’

She looked around at the sparsely furnished apartment and admitted that he had a point.

‘Listen, if you want me to stay, you only have to say . . .’

‘No, I want you to do the right thing,’ he said. ‘And I think it’s the right thing to go with Diana. But I do want you to come back.’

‘I’m going to have fun,’ she said, with a playfulness she didn’t feel. If he thought she was going to be depressed about his rejection of her, he had another think coming. ‘Have fun, do a bit of snooping around, catch up with old friends, snog a few unsuitable men, and then I’ll come back.’

‘Don’t have too much fun . . .’

How dare he?
she thought, grabbing her bag and making for the door.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said, brushing past him, their arms touching, a crackle of electricity passing between them. ‘Don’t worry about me at all.’

10

Diana’s body clock was all over the place. She had been tempted to spend the night in Bangkok; the city had some of her favourite hotels and shopping centres – the delicious spa at the Sukhothai, the rooftop restaurant on the Lebua with its views right over the city – but she was desperate to get back, for the sake of her mental well-being if nothing else. The lack of sleep was starting to have an impact on her body; she was getting headaches and feeling spaced out. If Rachel hadn’t been by her side, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to find the right gate at the airport. All she could think about was her lovely soft bed at Somerfold – if she could only make it there, everything would be all right.

It wasn’t far now, at any rate. Mr Bills had met them at Heathrow, and the car was now sweeping through the Berkshire countryside, the green hedgerows and trees soothing after the overbright and crumbling urban sprawl of Bangkok. Diana certainly felt calmer here, although she wasn’t exactly sure that was a logical response: there were going to be awkward questions to answer when she arrived with her estranged sister. She looked across at Rachel, dozing with her head back on the seat. They had hardly spoken since they had left Ko Tao; Rachel had seemed preoccupied with something. Perhaps she was simply worried about coming back to England. Three years was a long time, and must have seemed even longer to someone who may well have expected to stay away for ever. That was a strange thought now that Rachel was sitting only inches away. For so long Diana had expected the same thing; in fact had wished to never see her sister again.
Was I too hard on her?
she wondered. No, what Rachel had done had been spiteful, selfish and unforgivable. And yet here Diana was, inviting her back into her life. Not forgiving her, not that, but she was certainly pinning all her hopes on her little sister. She supposed it was simply a measure of how desperate she was.

‘Where are we?’ murmured Rachel, squinting out of the window. ‘This isn’t Notting Hill.’

‘We’re not going there. We’re going to Somerfold.’

‘The country place?’ Diana thought she said the words with a trace of sarcasm, but perhaps it was just sleep. ‘Will Mum be there?’ she added.

‘No, she’s up in London for a friend’s birthday.’

Diana could see the relief on her sister’s face. They both knew their mother was unlikely to welcome Rachel with open arms. Sylvia Miller had always been a world-class grudge-bearer; she had refused to mention their father’s name from the day he had walked out, had even refused to go to his funeral after his death from cancer. There was little chance she would welcome her younger daughter with open arms, especially as Diana had defied her by going to Thailand to fetch Rachel. They would have to meet at some point, of course, but Diana was content to avoid that moment for the next couple of days at least.

‘I bought something for Charlie,’ said Rachel, rooting in her tote bag and pulling out a large teddy bear dressed in a T-shirt emblazoned with the words
I
Thailand
. ‘I picked this up at Samui airport when you went to the ladies’. What do you think?’

‘He’s a bit old for that,’ Diana replied, trying not to smile. ‘If you’d got him the new iPod I think it’d be more his style.’

‘Well, it’s the thought that counts,’ Rachel said, looking a touch put out. ‘Perhaps we can all do something together at the weekend?’ she asked more hopefully.

‘I told you. He’s at school.’

‘Doesn’t he come home on Fridays?’

Diana shook her head. She could see her sister’s disappointment. Charlie and Rachel had always got on like a house on fire. A closet tomboy, Auntie Rachel had taught her son how to ride a bike and do all the rough-and-tumble boy things like climbing trees and building dams.

‘Well, I’ll send it to him,’ she said. ‘Maybe he can tell his mates he went to Thailand for a full-moon party.’

They turned off a country lane and through a set of gates on to a long driveway. To the left was the lake, and set on a low hill overlooking it was Somerfold. Diana sighed with relief at seeing her home.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Rachel, sitting forward. ‘Is this it? It’s massive!’

Diana realised that her sister would never have seen or possibly even heard of their country home.

‘How big
is
it?’ gasped Rachel, her face practically squashed against the window.

‘Probably a bit too big,’ said Diana modestly, although she was pleased at her sister’s reaction.

‘How many staff do you need in a place like this?’

‘The minimum, although it’s nice to have people around, to be honest.’

‘I bet you’ve got a live-in gardener and everything.’

‘Phil and his wife Sue live in a cottage near the stables.’

‘Stables!’ laughed Rachel. ‘Do you have a sexy groom in tight jodhpurs?’

‘Depends on your point of view, and anyway, Jessica only works part-time.’

They almost giggled, a trace of their old good-humoured banter poking its head above the parapet. As the car pulled up at the front door, Mrs Bills stepped out. A formal dresser, she was wearing her usual pale grey skirt and blouse.

‘A female butler?’ whispered Rachel as they got out, crunching on to the gravel.

‘Mrs Bills is the housekeeper,’ said Diana. ‘Her husband David has been kind enough to drive us from the airport,’ she said, smiling towards the front seat.

‘It’s like bloody Downton Abbey.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Rachel,’ said the woman, taking their bags. ‘I’ve put you in the Lake House. Would you like me to show you the way?’

‘The Lake House?’ said Rachel, turning to Diana. ‘Aren’t I staying here?’ There was disappointment on her face, not just because she was being sidelined to an outbuilding, but because of what it really meant: she was back, but she wasn’t being
welcomed
back.

‘I thought it would be a better place for you to work,’ said Diana, feeling suddenly guilty. She found herself wanting to justify her very deliberate decision to keep Rachel away from the main house. ‘It’s much quieter and tucked away. Julian used to go out there when he needed a clear head.’

Rachel nodded, but was clearly unconvinced. ‘That sounds good.’

‘Let’s go inside first,’ said Diana. ‘I’ll show you around quickly.’

Diana would have been lying if she’d said she wasn’t enjoying the open-mouthed wonder on her sister’s face as they walked into the grand entrance hall, through the drawing rooms and around the gallery and library on the ground floor. Much of the Georgian grandeur was still in evidence in the tall windows and roof mouldings – Diana was particularly fond of the plaster eagles swooping from the ceiling rose in the ballroom – but she had worked hard with an interior designer to make the place feel softer, more welcoming, by adding more modern furniture and deep cream carpets underfoot.

‘It’s mental,’ smiled Rachel, flopping down on to a leather chesterfield in the living room. ‘It’s a long way from Charleville Street,’ she said, referring to their old Ilfracombe home. ‘It’s like the Queen has just left the room.’ There was no sense that she was mocking; just delight and excitement at the size and luxuriousness of the surroundings.
Perhaps people really can change
, thought Diana, reaching over to the walnut coffee table, where Mrs Bills had left a steaming cafetière, two porcelain mugs and a plate stacked high with home-made biscuits. ‘Seriously, Di, this house is beautiful. I prefer it to Julian’s parents’ place. It’s grand but still a home. How the hell did you find it?’

Diana paused before answering. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get into all this right now, but she supposed the time had come for complete honesty.

‘An agent found it for us. We bought it after the scandal, because we couldn’t stay in London. We needed to get away from that social scene, partly because the party invitations dried up overnight – people in our circle really don’t want your misfortune rubbing off on them. And partly because, well, I wanted Julian out of temptation’s way.’

She watched her sister lower her head in shame. She wasn’t sorry that she was making her feel awkward.

‘The fallout from the story was difficult. Photographers following us for months, sly gossip in the press, the fact that Julian’s name became synonymous with sleazy businessmen.’

‘You’ve made your point,’ said Rachel with quiet defiance. ‘But it wasn’t all down to me. Julian had the affair. With an eighteen-year-old girl. You can’t do things like that and expect there not to be consequences.’

Diana looked away, conceding the truth in what Rachel had just said. She had imagined this confrontation over the years, imagined making her sister feel sorry, really desperately sorry and ashamed for what she had done, but she felt no victory now the moment was here. Both Rachel and Julian, the two people she had loved most in the world, had been wrong. It didn’t make her triumphant to dredge it all up – it just made her sad.

‘Are we ever going to get over this, or am I just wasting my time being here?’

‘Is that why you’re here?’ replied Diana. ‘To make amends? To make yourself feel better?’

‘Partly,’ she admitted.

‘I should show you to the Lake House,’ she said, wanting to change the subject.

Rachel picked up her rucksack and they went out of the main door of the house, Diana leading her left down a gravel path, past the swimming pool, gleaming like polished tanzanite in the darkening day.

They turned a corner and the lake was in front of them. When a land agent had been commissioned to find the Denvers the perfect country house within commuting distance of London, they had been inundated with dozens of beautiful properties, but Somerfold had stood out from the start. A contrite Julian had allowed Diana to choose the property, and it was the lake that had swung it for her. Diana had always loved the water. Not in the way that Rachel did – Rachel the water baby, the superb swimmer – but she found it soothing. After her parents’ divorce, when they had moved to Ilfracombe to be near her mother’s sister, she had taken long walks along the cliffs and it had helped her deal with her new life, just as she knew that the lake would help her adjust to life in the countryside.

A building on stilts jutted out into the water.

‘Wow,’ whispered Rachel, pausing to admire the view.

Diana had to admit it was impressive. Built out of slate and cedarwood in sleek architectural lines, it had been a labour of love for Julian bringing it to life.

‘It used to be the old boathouse. It was falling down when we bought the place, so Jules wanted to renovate it. He demolished it and rebuilt it from scratch. He loved it, although the truth was, he wasn’t around enough to use it.’

‘I thought you said you bought Somerfold to get Julian away from London. To keep him here.’

‘That was the plan. But he worked so hard, so late, that it just wasn’t practical for him to come home every night.’

She didn’t miss her sister’s fleeting distrustful expression.

Pulling a key out of her trouser pocket, Diana pushed it into the lock and opened the door. She hadn’t been in here for weeks, and there was a slight smell of dust and damp.

‘It’s been a bit neglected, I’m afraid,’ she said, opening a window to let in warm, sweet-smelling evening air.

‘That’s what happens when people work too hard,’ replied Rachel. She said it absently, but Diana got her meaning.

The door opened on to a wide living space. It had a grey modular sofa, a television, and a beautiful oak desk overlooking the lake, and they could see the sun setting over the water through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

‘The balcony runs around the perimeter of the house. It’s lovely to sit out and watch the kingfishers and herons,’ said Diana, pointing to two Adirondack chairs outside.

‘I bet you can dive straight off into the water,’ said Rachel, her eyes wide in pleasure.

‘I think it’s deep enough,’ confirmed Diana, knowing that she was too timid to try it herself but imagining her sister jumping in and cooling off.

‘Where do I sleep?’ asked Rachel.

Diana pointed to the left.

‘There’s a bed through here. There’s cooking equipment and a fridge over there,’ she said, pointing to the opposite end of the house.

She watched Rachel running her hand over the bookshelves and realised, quite bitterly, that she had inadvertently put her sister in her perfect home.

‘So how do we start this?’ she asked finally.

Rachel flopped on the sofa and crossed her legs.

‘It’s a bit like police work, I suppose,’ she said, flinging her head back with tiredness. ‘You’ve seen it on the TV, haven’t you? They get a big board on the wall with photos and lines linking people and events. That’s pretty much how you start an investigation, although without the board.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘Journalists are more into scrawled notes on the back of receipts, but it’s the same principle. We want to build up the fullest picture of Julian’s life we can.’

‘Of course,’ said Diana, feeling uncomfortable. She knew she would have to be open and honest with her sister, but she hadn’t appreciated how awkward it would make her feel.

‘Tell me we’ve got coffee in this place?’ said Rachel, standing up and walking to the tiny galley kitchen.