‘But aren’t you returning to the island?’
‘No, Michael. I said Nice, as in France. Now!’
William found the driveway to Justin’s villa even more beautiful than it had been before. There were so many different flowers, and the hidden lights gave a fairy-tale feel to the long lane. Marta was waiting on the steps and gave him a cautious welcome, surprised by his sudden arrival. As she showed him into the bedroom he had occupied before, William was struck by a strange feeling of comfort. The villa somehow felt more like home than any of his London houses or apartments.
He showered and changed before joining Marta in the kitchen, where she was baking bread.
‘We need to talk, Marta,’ he said gently. She busied herself, avoiding his gaze. ‘Marta, we have things to discuss. Justin does not know I’m here.’ She opened the oven to remove a loaf. ‘I love Justin and Laura, and whatever we say now is not intended to be a betrayal. To be honest, I’ve grown closer to them than I am to my own children.’
She sat down opposite him, a little uncomfortable. ‘I love them too,’ she said.
‘Tell me about them, from the beginning, or from when you first became a part of their lives,’ he said.
Marta sensed his concern and intuitively knew that something was wrong. ‘May I ask why?’
William hesitated and then explained his situation; his reasons for being there and his growing friendship with Justin. But not until he began to elaborate on the island and the payback game did Marta become attentive.
She chewed her lower lip and sighed. ‘The children had an aunt Frances who lived at Mole Cottage in a village near Aylesbury. I had known her since we were schoolchildren. When she discovered that my husband had died and I was in financial difficulties, she asked if I would become her companion. I accepted.’ William wondered where this was going to lead, but did not interrupt. ‘Frances had lost contact with her brother, Martin, whom she described as a malicious boy. Martin Moorcroft was married to a frivolous Frenchwoman, Madeleine. A great beauty and a socialite. I never met her.’ Again Marta fell silent, twisting her hands. ‘Martin had two children, Justin and Laura.’ She plucked at her skirt. ‘He was a man who should never have had children.’
‘I don’t understand.’ William leaned forward.
Marta shifted her weight and her cheeks flushed. Then she spoke quickly. ‘He was arrested for molesting a little girl when he was still young himself. He was a paedophile, a masochistic, horrible man, who married a woman with equally disgusting tendencies. The pair, it seemed, were well matched.’
William looked directly at Marta. ‘Were Laura and Justin...’
Marta had tears in her eyes. ‘From a very early age. They were immersed in a living nightmare. And who could they turn to? How could they know that theirs was not a normal childhood?’
William waited, but this time Marta paused for a considerable time. ‘What in God’s name happened, Marta?’
She was openly crying now, delving into her apron pocket for her handkerchief. ‘A child can only take so much.’
‘So what happened?’
‘Come with me,’ said Marta, and led him through the giant oak door to the wine cellar.
‘Are you taking your medication?’ asked Justin.
‘Of course,’ replied Laura. ‘There’s no need to get snappy. I’m doing everything we arranged. What’s the matter with you?’
He caught her in his arms. ‘You aren’t being silly with Max, are you? I want them to go soon and they’ll take him with them.’
‘Can’t he stay?’
He pushed her away. ‘For God’s sake, you know why he can’t. We’ve discussed it.’ He changed the subject, pointing to film footage of the Baron with the boat-boys. ‘When he wasn’t screwing them he was pawing Karl in the gymnasium. The Baroness just ignores it.’
‘Two such awful parents,’ said Laura quietly, ‘have made such a sweet child.’
‘Oh, God, I don’t believe I heard you say that. Sweet child!’
‘He’s a nice boy, with beautiful manners. He’s also well educated. At least you can have an intelligent conversation with him.’
‘Really?’ Justin teased. ‘Well, perhaps you should make sure you have these intelligent conversations within range of the microphones because so far he’s the only one you keep skirting around.’
‘I do not.’
‘Yes, you do, and I’m sick of it. The rules are clear. You get every single one of them, Laura. That’s what you’re being paid for. Now, I’ve got to call William and give him a progress report. What do you want me to tell him? That you think that little prick is a sweet boy?’
‘I want to speak to him when he calls,’ she said.
‘Now you’re really annoying me,’ snapped Justin. ‘So go. Go on, get out.’
Laura wandered to the door then turned back to him. ‘Don’t get nasty with me, Justin, you know how it upsets me.’
He forced a smile and told her he loved her, but she had gone before he could kiss her and make up. He knew he had been brusque with her, and part of him excused it because he was getting closer to their payback. Only one of the guests mattered to Justin, the main man, and he couldn’t care less about the others. He didn’t want anything to go wrong so he was being over-cautious with Matlock. But although he tried to remain calm, tension was building in him. And he could not admit that he was jealous of that kid Max. It infuriated him.
The wine cellar, unlike the rest of the house, had not been renovated, but remained almost as it had been when Justin and Laura were children. Marta lit some candles.
‘They must not be hurt,’ said Marta. ‘They are still children, especially Laura. She is the most fragile. She cannot be without Justin, she is dependent on him. Without him she would be locked up again.’
‘Laura?’ asked William, perched on a dusty barrel in the dark. The damp cellar chilled him. ‘Has she been locked up in the past, then?’
Marta was rooting about behind a rack of red burgundies. ‘Most of her life,’ she whispered, and pulled out a dusty cardboard box. Inside was a black leather photograph album filled with newspaper cuttings. She passed it to William and sat silently beside him, letting him read.
The headlines were beyond belief: ‘Killer Angels’, ‘Deadly Babes’, ‘Devil Children Let Loose’. On and on went the hideous clippings, describing what William now knew to be two tragic children.
‘They killed both their parents?’ he asked. Marta nodded. ‘And the police were called by the nanny?’
‘That’s right,’ said Marta, pointing to a photo of her. ‘They stabbed her and pushed her into the pool, but by some superhuman effort she dragged herself out and crawled down to the village where she raised the alarm.’
William wondered why the police hadn’t picked up on Justin’s background when Maynard died. He had been the main beneficiary of Maynard’s will, after all. Then he remembered that children’s criminal records are only kept for a few years. As they grew up, the pair must have been given a clean slate and allowed to go free. Furthermore, the children had adopted a new name, Chalmers. Provided they were never caught again, the police would be none the wiser.
‘What happened to the nanny in the end?’ asked William.
‘She died in a car accident, I think. I recall Justin reading something to me a few years back now — well, actually to Laura. I don’t remember all the details, just that he was cutting out the article. I think I asked him who she was and...’ Marta frowned. ‘Is this important?’