The Way Back Ch. 05

"No, Greta," I said decisively. "Things have gone too far, and there are other reasons I can't tell you about why I can't contact Mum yet. Remember you promised to keep me a secret?"

She nodded.

"I promise you," I added, "I'll tell you everything as soon as it's safe to do so. There are all sorts of things happening that it's better for you not to know about. But for now..."

"I won't let you down, Dad, but please, let's let the boys know soon. They're not dealing with Derek well; life isn't good at home."

"I promise."

"Now," I said. "It's time you had some hot cross buns,"

Of course Greta broke down crying again, memories of past Good Fridays, I thought, which now could never be repeated. Soon she was eating the buns, and her smile returned.

------

TWENTY-ONE

It was truly a Good Friday. I had got my daughter back, and there started the first of a number of conspiracies. I had to be careful about how much I said to Greta, so I said nothing. Greta wanted to hear the whole story of my admission to hospital, the extent of my injuries, my coma, emergence and rehab.

She held onto my hand at the kitchen table as if she thought I would disappear again if she let go. Mercifully for my knees and thighs she had vacated my lap for the chair next to me. I let Trish tell her the whole sordid business, which she did in graphic detail.

Once she had got to the place where I came home, she let me take up the story. I told her of the flat, of my return to work. She laughed at Judy fainting, was interested in my new PA, and envious of my trip to Canada. I left out my trip to Sweden. She was an intelligent girl and would make too many connections for her own and Ann's good.

She looked thoughtful for a while after I had finished with her arrival.

"Dad," she began hesitantly, "if Mum marries him, can I come and live here with you? I think the boys will want to as well."

"Well, I suspect you're old enough to choose. I'm not sure about the boys. Mum has custody and I have access rights at the moment. We would have to discuss that, when the time arrives."

She seemed satisfied and that was effectively the end of the discussion. She took Trish round the house telling her tales from when the family lived here, and I followed, picking up memories as I did so.

Then a phone rang: Greta's phone. We heard her side of the conversation.

"Hello Mum."

"...I'm with friends."

"...Yes I know Mum."

"...Mum, it's still morning; stop nagging me."

"...Look Mum, I'm in Sale. Can you get your head round the idea of picking me up? I'm on your way to Uncle Peter's house."

"...All right. I'll be outside Sale station at two, OK?" The tone of the 'OK' was insulting.

"...Bye Mother!"

The exchange had all the qualities of teenage speak: exaggerated patience, exasperation at one's parent's stupidity, all wrapped in studied insolence.

"Greta," I said quietly.

"Yes?"

"My memory is patchy. Remind me. Do you remember me ever talking to Mum like you just did?"

"Well... no."

"Do you remember me ever talking to you or the boys sarcastically as you just did?"

"No."

"Don't do it, Chicken. It demeans you."

"Sorry Dad."

"OK Chicken," A hug and it was over. I went out and bought fish and chips; another tradition in the family for Good Friday. The effort was not lost on Greta who looked pensive as we ate. Then it was time for her to go. I drove her to the station and dropped her off. As she climbed out of the car she turned to me.

"Dad, can I come back soon?"

"Of course, Chuck. It's your house too you know. I'll get you a key."

"Sunday?"

"Fine. If you're free."

"Good. And Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for telling me off."

"Pardon?"

"It shows you're my Dad. Derek never tells me off. He's afraid to. Bye!" A kiss and she was off.

I was glad she was my daughter. She was a daughter to be proud of.

Her visit was a Godsend for it allowed my to call at a supermarket and get an egg for Trish and Jenny and another for Greta.

When I returned to the house, Trish was in the garden kneeling at one of the flowerbeds, weeding. It set the tone for the weekend. The weather was fine and the garden needed a lot of attention.

"Don't you want to do something else?" I asked her.

"No," she replied with a happy smile, "I just want to be in this house with you. I want you to remember me in this garden and in your bed!" she grinned wickedly, "Flowerbeds first, then feather bed after!"

So we spent the rest of the day and the whole of Saturday gardening. In the late evening we curled up together and listened to jazz and I found the time to make a sponge cake for the next day. Then we shared a bath, washed each other with much laughter, and went to bed. We made love gently and attentively, as if we had to remember this time for when we had lost each other. We had been making love for months and there were no surprises, just comfort and reassurance that we loved each other deeply. It was thoroughly satisfying and relaxing, necessary after the muscle aching activities of the day.

On Sunday morning she brought out a huge chocolate egg. "Happy Easter!" she said.

I brought out hers, "Happy Easter Trish." She was shocked.

"How did you remember--"

"I had to come clean. "Saw yours when I brought in your bags."

She was not bothered, but asked if I'd got one for Greta.

Greta arrived in time for lunch on Sunday and we went out to a restaurant and then for a walk. Greta tried to get me to explain why I couldn't talk to Ann. I promised she would be the first to know as soon as the police allowed it, but reiterated the need to keep my presence secret for the time being. She was not happy, but agreed nevertheless. I could see she picked up on my mention of the police, and I assumed this convinced her, but she said nothing.

We arrived back at the house and I put together a teatime meal of salad, ham, salami and cheese, with scones and the cake. It was comforting but also strange. The three of us fitted well together and we felt like a family. Trish commented on it and Greta agreed.

Trish said she was glad to have had the experience now she was going. This was news to Greta, who was a little distressed on my behalf. I was touched by her concern, and Trish was about to tell her about Jenny, when I shook my head.

I asked Greta if she would get a DNA test, to prove she was my daughter. She agreed happily and I gave her the address of a clinic David had written down for me. It was the school holidays so she said she would go on Tuesday. I gave her a letter for them to say I would pay for the test.

We drove Greta home, and I got my first look at the huge edifice that was Derek's house. The house in Sale was large but it was small in comparison with this mansion. Greta grunted that it was a barn and she hated it. She hugged Trish after assuring herself that she would see her again before she left for New Zealand, and then hugged me, gave me a sloppy kiss and was gone, sashaying up the drive, with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

"That girl will break hearts," said Trish as we watched her into the house. "What a body!"

Father's sometimes have to be told such things. It came as a shock to me that my little daughter was nearly a full-grown woman, and I looked at her receding swagger with different eyes. I would have to have a talk with that young woman! I told Trish as much.

"You'll do no such thing!" she exclaimed. "That girl might be sexy but she's got more morals than I ever had, or have, come to that!"

Once home we sat with our hot drinks and enjoyed some more music. We knew she would have to be off early the next morning. She was on nights for the coming week.

So in the early morning she went, and I did a little more gardening.

------

TWENTY-TWO

Colin picked me up at eight. The others were already in the car. We had toyed with the idea of going into the pub for a drink, but Keith counselled against it.

"If he leaves early it will be obvious if we all troop out after him. I suspect that if he thinks no one has seen him with us he'll be more likely to talk."

We had to agree, and remained thirsty. At nine, out came Ted O'Malley. He had to come by our parked car on his walk home. The events that followed resembled a gangster film. Keith opened the front door, stopping him, while opening the back door allowed me to get behind him.

"You again!" he addressed Keith.

"Yes. Get in."

"I don't think so."

Colin had emerged from the other side of the car. "Get in or you'll be in the nick before morning. There are a few things about you I'm sure they'll love to know!" Perhaps it was a bluff, but he fell for it.

I stood back and he got in the back of the car. Colin got in the other side and I followed him. Keith got in the front.

"What's this about?" O'Malley asked sullenly, looking a little fearful.

"You remember our talk?" asked Keith, "Well, now we need names. Who employed you and who were the other three blokes?"

"No way!" he exclaimed, "More than my life's worth."

"Let me put it this way," said Colin, "Sitting to your left is the man you were sent to tail. Take a good look at him."

He looked and shuddered.

"You led those three to me Mr O'Malley," I growled, "and they were under orders to kill me, obliterate my face and take everything that might identify me. They thought they had succeeded. They hadn't. Now I'm just a tad annoyed that they, and you for leading them to me, have destroyed my life. Now, with the info the police have and what they're going to get, they're going to be knocking on your door. Accessory to attempted murder, how long Colin?"

"Five years?" suggested Colin embellishing the time a little.

"And if you get off, Ted," I continued, "I'll be coming for you. I may look a wreck but I'm very strong, I had to be to survive. How would you like to look like me -- Ted?"

He began to tremble.

"So," said Colin, "You tell us names, and when the others are arrested we'll make sure the police know that you've been helpful to us."

"But we can guarantee that the others won't know about this conversation," Keith added. "Of course, if you don't talk to us it may get around that you have been shooting your mouth off. So, how about it?"

O'Malley began to look wretched, beads of sweat appeared on his face and reluctantly he nodded.

"Who paid you and how much?" asked Colin.

"I don't know. You've got to believe me. A man approached me. Very tall he was. He promised to pay me well for tailing... you, and he said there would be building contracts for me, if I kept me mouth shut."

He spoke quietly, he seemed defeated, "I got three thousand quid."

"Did you know the man?"

"No. I think he must be a friend of Derek Fanshaw. I think I saw him in Fanshaw's office a few years ago but I couldn't swear to it. That's what I thought, that it was the same man."

"Why should you think that?" asked Keith.

"Fanshaw is my usual contractor. I work for him most of the time."

"And the others?"

"What others?"

"The three thugs who did this to me," I muttered.

"Craig Wilson, Lee Harper, Gary Grantham. They work for Fanshaw."

"How much did they get?"

"They were gloating over me, said they got ten grand each."

There was a collective gasp and a "Good God!"

"Now their car," said Keith, "The Red Toyota. Registration?"

"MZ 02 QBW, but Craig got rid of it as soon as they got back from Newcastle."

"You knew they went to Newcastle?" Colin pounced.

"They said they'd 'done the job' there."

"So you knew they'd taken me there," I hissed in his ear, "and you let my wife suffer, knowing that!"

"I don't know your wife. It was just a job for me."

My hands were clenched and Colin could see. He hurried to speak.

"Listen, toe-rag, you'll be arrested some time soon, and so will they. Keep your mouth shut and they'll not know you've talked. Tell them about this and you'll go down for years, after we let Allan here have his fun with you. Understand?"

He nodded, the sweat was running down his face.

"OK, get out." spat Keith.

I made room, he got out, and we drove away.

What a strange feeling. After all this time we knew, I knew, who had tried to kill me; who wanted me dead. I didn't care what Fanshaw's motives were, whether he wanted to have my wife, or my money, or both. He was a murderer. It was a strange feeling because until the moment O'Malley said Fanshaw's name, I had felt the quest was almost about someone else. Now it was very personal.

The man who had stolen my life, my future married life, my wife, my children and who was scheming to get my money and destroy my company, was happily living with my wife, and worse she was living happily with him, blissfully unaware that she was sleeping with the man who had effectively murdered her husband and her previous life. Further he had fawned over her, played the solicitous friend and in all that had lied to her in the most basic way. Now he was planning to marry her.

"The marriage must not happen," I said out loud.

There had been silence in the car, each of us with our own thoughts, though I suspect they were wondering how to talk to me about it. We were fellow conspirators. Yet now I was alone. After all, it had not happened to them, though their faith in me was vindicated.

"No, it mustn't," said Colin, "All that info goes to the team tomorrow. It won't take long to find the car. It'll have your DNA in it somewhere."

"But Wilson sold it," said David, "It could be anywhere."

"No matter. If it's not been scrapped, we'll find it. Just watch."

We went to the Cross Keys and had a few. Poor Colin had to drink orange juice since he was driving. He dropped everyone off and then took me to the house.

"You're not going to do anything rash are you?" he asked, as I began to get out of the car. "It would be a bad idea to tell Greta."

"Greta hates the man, even more now she's found me again. She won't talk. But I want her to keep me informed about what goes on in the house. Don't worry, I'll be careful."

"Just don't mess up the investigation."

I nodded. I repeated, "I'll be careful. I'm more interested in getting Ann out of Derek's way, but if I can I want him to squirm as well."

"Please don't do anything about Ann until we have the case sewn up. Promise me, Allan!"

"Sorry Colin," I said firmly, "I'm going to try to contact Ann as soon as possible. She's in some danger and I'm damned if I'm going to let her marry that bastard."

"Then can you promise me to keep Derek's guilt out of it until we have the hard evidence?"

I promised I would try, he left and I made myself a simple supper of microwaved stew and some bread. Waste not, want not! After the meal I sat and thought about how I would get at Derek and how I would eventually deal with meeting my own ex-wife, who I hardly knew any more, and against whom I felt deep resentment.

------

TWENTY-THREE Trying to Talk

Jenny arrived at work on Tuesday with a happy but tired face.

"Success?" I asked

"Oh, yes," she answered quietly. "It was harrowing, but we ended up with the air cleared. I'm glad you persuaded me to go."

Jenny found the phone number of the company where Ann worked. I had told her that her fears had been right, and that the evidence pointed to Derek as the one responsible for my condition. She agreed the wedding needed to be stopped if at all possible.

I phoned. The receptionist asked who I was.

"Allan Jonsson, her ex-husband," I replied. "I need to see her urgently."

There was a long, long pause. Then she came back.

"Mrs Jonsson says she does not wish to speak to you or meet you. Please talk through her solicitor." Connection severed. That was it.

Jenny's face was like thunder.

"Here," she said, "give me the phone."

"Hello," she said when connected, "This is Jonsson's. Could you put me through to Mrs Jonsson."

"Mr Bucklow's secretary," She waited then handed to phone to me.

"Ann," I spoke hurriedly, "Please don't hang up. I need to see you. It's important."

"How dare you trick me like this. You louse. You disappear for three years and then want to talk to me?" she was shouting, "You've got a nerve. We're divorced. Marry your slut and leave me alone."

"Ann," I begged, "You need to know the true facts--"

"I know them. I've even got pictures. Talk to my solicitor." She disconnected.

Jenny made me some tea. I needed it. I was irate. I was seething, but there was no point in trying again. I would have to see what David could do about arranging a meeting.

After work I called at the Police Station and gave a sample for a DNA test. Then I went to the gym and worked off my anger until I was exhausted. I was only home a few minutes when Greta rang.

"Dad, did you ring Mum today?"

"Yes," I answered in a monotone.

"Well it made teatime interesting," she laughed. "Mum was ballistic. She told Derek he'd never guess what happened and then launched into this tirade against you. It went on and on.

"But the interesting thing was Derek's face. He definitely didn't believe it and when Mum paused for breath he said so. It was a hoax call he reckoned. But Mum floored him by saying that you wanted to meet her.

"He suggested she did just that, if it was you, you could negotiate, if not she'd have called this person's bluff. He reckoned David had organised it because of the court case over the money, what is it called, alimony?"

"Something like that," I replied.

"Anyway, she said there was no way she was going to meet you, after all you did to her. Then he said it might get her the money quicker if she did talk. She hit the roof! She wasn't interested in the money; it was all he ever talked about. He said she was being stupid. I left at that point and so did the boys."

"Well thanks for letting me know, Chicken," I said, without enthusiasm, "You'll remember your promise won't you? I've got to work this out for myself and soon I'll be able to tell you the whole story."

"Oh, by the way," she said by way of conclusion, "I got the test done; they're sending the results directly to you."

We signed off with expressions of mutual love, and I sat a while and thought.

Why was she so angry? OK, so she thought I'd left her but that was two years ago and now she had another man in her life. There seemed to be hatred in her attitude. Surely after twenty years together and my offer to explain, she would want an explanation? I had no answers to those questions, they resided in Ann's own mind, not mine. The thing I couldn't work out was how to get through to her.

Now, there are times in life when we look back on certain crucial actions of ours, and when we do, the interrogative we use most is 'why'. We know 'what' we did but often seek reasons -- the 'why'.

Why didn't I march round to her offices and confront her? I still don't know. I know I was deeply resentful and angry at her attitude and the fact she did not search for me longer than she did. Now I was incensed at her unreasonable refusal to speak to me. I can be obstinate; very obstinate. Witness my obsession with getting better. I often wonder if I was so pig-headed before the attack; brain damage can often change behaviour.

However, there was little time in the next few days to dwell on the matter. On Friday Jenny and I were to fly to Hamburg for a meeting on Saturday with a client. It was a complicated brief and he wanted to talk to us and then work towards a contract on the Monday. We had much preparation to do; meetings with Geoff and with one of our best technicians, preparation of a presentation, the usual things.

We had so much work on at the time that there would be a delay in producing what he wanted beyond a prototype, and I was sure this might be a break point. Jenny was already putting out feelers to a number of companies that could do the fabrication, to sub-contract the work if necessary, but obviously this was to be a last resort.