‘I’m having a dinner party soon for movers and shakers and useful moneymakers. Can I count you in?’
‘Would this happen before or after the election?’ I frowned.
‘Before of course. I need to remind a few people that I know where the bodies are buried – literally in a couple of cases.’ Dan smiled. ‘People who will be useful to both of us.’
‘And a dinner party is the best time and place to do that?’
‘Tobey, it’s the only place,’ said Dan. ‘It’ll be a scratching party.’
‘A what now?’
‘A scratching party. A quid-pro-quo event. A “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” occasion,’ he expounded. ‘I’ll have something on every person at the dinner party, and what’s more they’ll all know it. I’m owed some favours and it’s time to collect. I’d like you to be my star guest.’
I regarded Dan, donning my poker face. His star guest, or his star puppet?
Time would tell.
fifty-nine. Callie
* * *
‘Mum, are you OK?’ I’d been speaking for the last ten minutes and the faraway, troubled look on Mum’s face told me she hadn’t heard a word. ‘Mum?’
‘What, dear?’ Mum finally took in my worried look. ‘I’m sorry, Callie. I just have a lot on my mind at the moment.’
‘Care to share?’
She regarded me, contemplating my request. Something was definitely wrong.
‘I’ve been invited to a dinner party on Friday and I’m trying to find a way to duck out of it,’ she said at last.
‘And you can’t say you’re busy or unavailable?’
‘The man hosting this dinner party isn’t good at taking no for an answer,’ Mum replied.
‘Anything I can do?’
She smiled. ‘No, love. I’ll sort this. It’s just annoying, that’s all.’ She regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Callie Rose, you know I love you, right? Very much.’
‘Yeah, Mum, I know.’ I frowned.
Where was this coming from? Something was definitely amiss—
‘Um-hmm?’ Troy cleared his throat.
Mum smiled. ‘I love you too, Troy. Don’t you ever forget that.’
‘Not likely to with you telling me every day,’ he said.
‘You’d soon miss it if I didn’t,’ said Mum. She turned her attention to the home-made seafood linguine before her and resumed picking at it. I looked at Troy, who just shrugged at me and carried on eating his dinner, his attention wholly taken up by the mobile phone in his left hand.
‘Troy, you know Mum doesn’t like phones at the dinner table,’ I pointed out.
‘Look at her,’ said Troy. ‘She’s miles away. If she’s not bothered today, why should you be?’
My brother was right. Mum was once again off in a world of her own and, if her expression was anything to go by, it wasn’t a happy place. Mum wasn’t just worried: there was something else, something more primal in her expression that it took me a few seconds to decipher. Something I hadn’t seen on Mum’s face in a long, long time.
Fear.
NOW
* * *
sixty. Troy
* * *
‘I’ve made a mess of your shirt.’
I glance down at the wet patch of material over my right shoulder and the right side of my chest. ‘You didn’t snot, did you?’
Libby gives a hiccup of a laugh. ‘I don’t think so. I can’t guarantee it though.’
I raise an eyebrow, but then we both smile, though Libby’s is faint and quick to evaporate.
‘Thanks, Troy.’
‘For what?’
‘For the use of your shoulder.’
‘Any time.’
Silence.
‘Troy, I wish … I wish you’d jumped without me. I wish you’d escaped.’ Libby’s voice is barely above a whisper.
‘We escape together or not at all,’ I tell her.
‘I hope you don’t live to regret that,’ she says.
She’s not the only one.
‘You OK?’
‘Not even a little bit.’
I take Libby’s hand in mine and give it a squeeze. I can’t even begin to imagine how she must be feeling. How would I feel if I learned my mum had grabbed me off the street and scared me shitless, all so she could get money off my dad? It doesn’t bear thinking about. And what Libby had said about her mum pulling on her legs in the bath so that her face would go under the water … What kind of sick bastard does that to their own child? What kind of sick bastard does that full stop? Libby’s home life must’ve been worse than hell. I can’t even imagine what it must’ve been like to live with a parent like that, or, rather, I don’t want to imagine it. All at once my mum’s endless hugs and constant fussing around me don’t seem that bad.
‘Troy, I want you to promise me something,’ says Libby.
‘What?’
‘If the chance comes to escape again, I want you to promise that you’ll run and not look back. You won’t wait for me or anyone.’
‘I can’t—’
‘Please. Promise. That’s all I’ll ever ask you to do for me.’ Libby looks up at me, her blue eyes huge and pleading. ‘Please.’
She really means it and she isn’t going to back down.
‘I promise,’ I state reluctantly.
‘Thank you. And I know you’re a guy of your word, so I’ll expect you to keep it.’
‘Libby, this is all academic,’ I point out. ‘I doubt if this lot will fall for the same trick.’
She looks at me. ‘I may have a way to get us out of here, but it’s dangerous.’
Hmm. I don’t like the sound of this. ‘I’m listening.’
Then
* * *
THE PARTY
sixty-one. Tobey
* * *
I read the email again. I’d already read it so many times I almost knew it by heart.
Liberty …
It was from my daughter, Liberty, forwarded on to me by Jade, my new personal assistant. My ex-lover and ex-employee Isabella and I had come to a parting of the ways. My decision, not hers. Here I was, sitting in the back of my chauffeur-driven WMW, being taken to Dan’s dinner party where I’d need all my wits about me. What a shame my thoughts were now all over the place. I didn’t know what to think, how to feel.
The first time I held my daughter in my arms and looked down at her, I knew her name like I knew my own. It sprang into my head and refused to budge. Liberty Alba. Unfortunately, her surname was Jackman. If there was some way I could’ve given my daughter my name without having to marry her poisonous bitch of a mother to do it, I would’ve done so in a heartbeat, but it didn’t work like that. Looking down at Liberty in that moment had been a revelation. I didn’t believe it was possible to fall in love at first sight until then. Looking into Liberty’s blue eyes, I knew otherwise.