The Truth About You (41 page)

‘For God’s sake,’ Whittaker muttered, rubbing his jaw, ‘there’s nothing to tell. She came on to me, right . . .’

Max made to lunge for him again, but Nadia hauled him back. ‘You mentioned your sister,’ she said shakily.

‘I did,’ Max confirmed, still sneering at Whittaker, ‘and it turns out that bastard has been corrupting her.’

‘He’s off his head,’ Guy shouted.

‘He’s got photos,’ Max insisted. ‘The arsehole took pictures of her . . .’

‘Guy, tell me this isn’t true,’ Nadia warned, her voice threaded with shock. ‘Tell me you’ve never laid a hand on Tom Hollingsworth’s daughter.’

‘You just heard him say she came on to him,’ Max butted in, ‘but that’s not how it was. He made out like he was that jerk from the book everyone’s reading. He got her to do stuff . . .’

‘What the hell’s she been telling you?’ Whittaker practically shrieked. ‘No way did I get her to do anything she didn’t want to. She was up for it every step of the way. She’d have done anything . . .’

‘Guy! For Christ’s sake,’ Nadia cried, her face slack with horror. ‘Tierney Hollingsworth’s a child . . .’

‘She was sixteen before I even touched her, and if she’s saying anything different . . .’

‘She isn’t,’ Max cut in savagely, ‘which is lucky for you, because I swear to God, if she’d been underage . . .’

‘If she had, I’d be reporting him to the police myself,’ Nadia cut in fiercely. To Guy she said, ‘What about the photos? Did you seriously take . . .’

‘He’s going to lie,’ Max snarled as Whittaker started to protest. ‘We need to see his phone,
and
his computer.’

‘Over my dead body.’

Nadia was already pulling the laptop towards her.

‘You can’t be serious,’ Whittaker shouted.

Her eyes were glittering with intent as she opened the files.

He glanced at the door, but sensing he might make a dash Max went to block it.

‘Oh my God,’ Nadia murmured, as she arrived at the pictures of Tierney, or at least of a naked young girl bound and gagged, each shot taken from a different, highly explicit angle. Feeling faintly sick, she asked, ‘Is this her? It is, isn’t it?’

‘You tell me,’ Whittaker retorted smartly.

Turning to Max, she said, ‘She won’t want you to see this.’

‘Dead right she doesn’t,’ he replied. ‘Can you tell it’s her?’

Nadia shook her head. ‘Not really, but the fact this is happening . . .’ Her eyes returned to Whittaker. ‘I don’t know what I’m finding harder,’ she told him, ‘that you did this to a friend’s daughter, or that you’ve knowingly put my entire business in jeopardy.’

Whittaker’s expression was sour as he said, ‘You’re making way too much of it . . .’

‘Don’t say any more,’ she snapped. ‘We’re going to delete every last shot you have . . .’

‘We need to know if he’s sent them to anyone,’ Max reminded her.

‘Have you?’ she said to Whittaker.

‘Give me a break,’ he sneered.

‘Do you know how to check?’ she asked Max.

He shook his head.

‘I sent them to her, OK?’ Whittaker told them. ‘She wanted to see them, she got off on them . . .’

‘No more,’ Nadia cried, as Max looked like he might go for him again. ‘I’ll deal with this now, Max, but before you leave, I need to ask, does your father know anything about it?’

Max shook his head. ‘Not from me, and Tierney’s terrified of him finding out, which is lucky for you, Whittaker, you lowlife piece of scum, because if he did know you’d be more than fucking toast, you’d be six feet under the fucking ground.’

As the door closed behind him Nadia regarded her husband in disgust. ‘It’s lucky for you,’ she informed him, ‘actually it’s lucky for me, that after my first husband’s betrayal nothing can ever affect me like that again. Which doesn’t mean this hasn’t hurt me, because it has, but at least I know I’ll get over it. Now I want you to clear out your desk and then go to the house and pack up your things there. Please be gone by the end of the day.’

‘Nadia, for God’s sake . . .’

‘I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. Take your own clients if you want to, but make no mistake: you are no longer a part of this agency, or of my life,’ and not entirely sure what she was going to do next, or indeed if this might end up hitting her a lot harder than it was right now, she left the room.

Lainey was in Tuoro, walking towards the church. Almost twenty-four hours had passed since Tom had called to let her know Tierney was safe. The relief had been overwhelming, as had the surprise, particularly as it had then raised the question of where the heck had Max gone dashing off to, if he’d known Tierney was going to her father? Actually, she knew Max was in England because he’d told her when she’d rung him, but where in England, and who he was with, she had no idea. All he’d said was, ‘Everything’s taken care of, T’s with Dad, and I’ll be back sometime in the next couple of days with Christie.’

There was obviously more to the story than either Max or Tierney were telling her, and Skye’s elusive manner since then had as good as confirmed they were hiding something. In fact, Skye had spent most of her time since Tierney’s disappearance at a neighbouring villa, where another English family with teenagers were staying. On the odd occasion she popped back for more clothes, or whatever else she needed, she always seemed to be in such a hurry there was no time to talk.

Had the rest of the conversation with Tom yesterday not been so unsettling, Lainey might have been giving more time to the mystery surrounding Tierney. As it was, her mind was in such turmoil that she barely even knew how to think, never mind what to do with the thoughts when they came. Her reaction to what Tom had said had been so hostile that he had been forced in the end to hang up on her.

‘Kirsten wants to meet you,’ he’d told her. Just like that. As though it was something she might welcome, or perhaps he thought Kirsten was doing her some sort of favour.

‘Well, how very sweet of her,’ she’d retorted acidly. ‘Shall we join the ladies-who-lunch club, or did she have something a little less formal in mind?’

‘Lainey,’ he’d admonished, an edge creeping into his voice. ‘She’s trying to reach out to you . . .’

At that, outrage had robbed her breath. ‘I don’t need her reaching out to me, thank you very much,’ she’d seethed. ‘In fact, if she thinks for one minute that I want to sit there listening to her bleating on about how much she loves you, and how wonderful you’ve been during this time, and how she can’t give you up now, she is out of her mind. Just tell her from me, she’s welcome to you, because personally I’m not into lying, cheating bastards who deceive their families . . .’

That was when he’d hung up on her, and though she knew she should call him back, perhaps even apologise, she simply couldn’t bring herself to. Not yet, anyway. And even when she did, what on earth was she supposed to say? OK, she was sorry Kirsten was sick (though she had to admit, perhaps not as sorry as she ought to be), and she was truly sorry for how scared Julia must be, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to deal with how it was affecting her and her family. If anything it was making everything worse, because how was she supposed to fight for Tom when even she understood that Kirsten and Julia had to come first?

Walking into the shadowy interior of Santa Maria Madelena, she felt the cool air brushing her skin like a balm. There was no one around; the place was so quiet and still that her heart, her mind, seemed impossibly loud and fast. Sliding into an empty pew, she sat forward to rest her head on her hands. She wasn’t entirely sure why she’d come, what comfort she’d thought it might offer, but after Zav and Alfie had finished their breakfasts at the café a while ago and taken off to explore more of the village, she’d felt herself being swamped by a terrible loneliness. She couldn’t seem to shake the pitiful sense of never really being wanted, not by her mother, her real father, and now her husband. The only one who’d ever truly cared was Peter, and thinking of him had brought such large, scalding tears to her eyes that she’d been forced to leave the café before anyone noticed.

She’d walked, almost unwittingly, to the Piazza Marconi, where she’d gazed up at the cluttered balconies, netted with washing, and spruced by flowers. She’d wondered which of the apartments had belonged to Melvina, and for a fleeting, horrible moment she’d seemed to hear her mother sobbing to be let in. There was only a cat on the piazza, watching her from a shady doorway. She’d gone towards it, but it had sprung up and disappeared inside. Was this the door, she’d wondered, that Melvina had refused to open the night her daughter had been raped?

Having no answers for her questions she’d turned to follow the Via Matteotti to the church, very probably walking the same route Melvina had dragged Alessandra on that terrible night.

This, she was thinking now as she turned to the confessional, was where Melvina had tried to force her own daughter to ask forgiveness for a sin she hadn’t committed.

In such silence it was hard to imagine the commotion there must have been, the priest’s shock, Alessandra’s hysteria, Melvina’s madness, for she surely had been mad to do what she had. And yet something of it seemed to echo beyond the stillness. She looked around at the Futurist paintings, the stained-glass windows, a handful of candles flickering next to the altar. In front of the pulpit a portrait of an impossibly handsome young Christ made her think of Max. She wondered if he was already on his way back, and if he might bring Tierney with him. She hoped Tierney would come, because she was feeling a need for her now that was as deep and powerful as the need she felt for her mother.

Going to the confessional she placed a hand on the ornate, dark wood, as though the touch might quietly unlock its secrets. She wondered if it really had been the priest of that time who’d raped her mother, along with another man. Marco had since learned that the priest had left the village only weeks after the crime. When news had reached him of Alessandra’s pregnancy, perhaps? Had he ever asked God to forgive his unforgivable sin? Were a few Hail Marys all it had taken to wipe away the stain of such unspeakable shame? Had either of those men ever truly suffered for what they’d done? How much thought did they give it now, if either was still alive?

Though it might be possible to trace the priest and even force a paternity test, Lainey had absolutely no desire to know anything about him, or his accomplice, not even their names. All she wanted was to feel a connection to her mother, to somehow let her know that she understood why it had been so hard for her to look at Lainey and not remember.

Hearing Zav and Alfie outside, she dabbed her eyes with her fingers and turned towards the open doors. Whatever was waiting for her in the future, it could never be as bad as what had awaited Alessandra when Melvina had locked the door on her that night. If her mother could survive that, then surely to God she could survive what was facing her.

Stepping outside, she waved to Zav and Alfie and turned on her phone. No calls while she’d been inside, but there was a text from Max.

Be there tomorrow.

Swallowing her disappointment that he wasn’t coming today, she pressed in Tierney’s number to find out where she was and what she was planning to do. If she’d decided to stay at home, would Tom stay with her? Going through to Tierney’s voicemail she said, ‘Call me when you get this, because if you’re not coming back to Italy I’ll have to arrange to send Skye home.’

‘Can we go back and get in the pool now?’ Zav asked, making a deliberate crash into her and turning it into a hug.

Smoothing his hair, Lainey said, ‘Of course. We’ll just pick up something for lunch . . .’

‘From Speedy Benny,’ Alfie cried, making Zav laugh, and with their arms jutting like aeroplane wings they set off back through the village.

Deciding not to retrace her mother’s and Melvina’s steps again, she cut across the piazza beside the church, and answered her mobile as it rang. ‘Hi Marco,’ she said, feeling pleased to hear from him, ‘how are things in Rome?’

‘Hectic,’ he replied, ‘but I always enjoy being here. I was wondering how you are today. Adriana says she called in to the villa earlier, but you weren’t there.’

‘I’m in the village,’ she told him. ‘Should I ring Adriana? Is it something urgent, do you know?’

‘She didn’t say, but I think she wants to make sure you are not too much on your own after what we learn about your mother on Saturday.’

Touched, but feeling awkward about becoming a liability, Lainey said, ‘She mustn’t worry, honestly. I’ll be fine.’

‘But she likes to worry, and besides, we have decided that you are a part of our family now, so it is our job to worry.’

Almost coming undone by his kindness, Lainey said, ‘Then I feel very honoured, thank you. I’ll give her a call as soon as I’ve finished speaking to you. Have you decided yet when you’re coming back?’

‘Actually, it was going to be tomorrow, but when I spoke with my wife this morning we agreed to talk, so she is going to fly here tonight. Perhaps, when I return to Tuoro on Wednesday, she will come with me. If she does, I would like you to meet her.’

Thrown by the echo of Tom’s words, and feeling ludicrously choked by the fact that her own marriage wasn’t even close to being mended, was in fact heading in the other direction, she said, ‘That would be lovely. I’ll look forward to it.’

After ringing off she quickly called Adriana to assure her she was fine, then picked up the few groceries she needed before ushering the boys back to the car. The heat was almost unbearable by now; sweat was rolling down her back and her hair was sticking to her neck. The thought of jumping into the pool, fully clothed, as soon as she returned had an irresistible appeal, until she found herself remembering the times she and Tom had done just that on holiday.

Feeling a terrible heaviness in her heart, she began the drive up the hill, only half listening as Zav and Alfie chattered on in the back.

‘Mum!’ Zav suddenly shouted.

‘What?’ she cried, instinctively braking.

‘Where are we going? You missed the turning.’

Realising she had, she mumbled an apology and turned the car round.