Lynda Plante - Sleeping Cruelty

She turned and gave him a sweet smile. He was uncertain whether she knew who he was: there was a deadness in her eyes. She blinked slowly at him, then turned her attention back to the sparkling stones.

‘They are diamonds,’ she said slowly, as she began moving them from one side of the black velvet to the other. ‘One for Lord Cedric, one for his wife, one for Clarissa, one for James, one for the Baron, one for the Baroness, this big one for Matlock, and this one for Angela.’ She counted them again, moving them back to the other side of the velvet, her brow furrowed.

Dahlia returned with a tray. ‘She’s been doing that for quite a while. She remembers who was here, so she can’t be that bad,’ she said.

They both turned as Laura spoke. ‘One missing! There’s no diamond for Max. Max should be the biggest.’ She turned to William. ‘Are you jealous, like my brother, because I love Max? I’m going away with him.’ She busied herself again, smoothing the black velvet.

William leaned forward. ‘I must have miscounted, Laura, I’m sorry. You’ll have another tomorrow, the biggest one of all. And then Marta’s coming to look after you,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

‘Do you like being here?’ he asked. She made no reply. ‘If you want to stay on the island for ever, I will always take care of you, Laura.’

‘Thank you,’ she said.

He turned to Dahlia. ‘Is that true, about Max?’

‘They were planning to elope, but I think the boy changed his mind.’

‘Thank you,’ said Laura, to nobody.

Dahlia stood behind William and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘I have never heard anyone say those words so sweetly, or so sadly. When Justin said he was leaving, that was all she said to him. She looked up, smiled just as she did now and said, “Thank you.”’

William gasped. ‘Justin said he was leaving? But he can’t have! The mail-boat went ages ago.’

Dahlia nodded. ‘I know, but it stops off at all the islands. Fifteen minutes ago he said he was taking the speedboat with one of the boys to catch it up.’

William left the room and ran panic-stricken to the jetty. The speedboat was just returning. There was no sign of Justin. His heart sank. He called to one of the boys swabbing down the decks on the cruiser. ‘Have you seen Justin?’

‘He left, sir. I took him to the mail-boat. He went aboard at Mustique. He and the young man, Max, left for Tortola together.’

William felt as if his panic would spiral out of control. He shouted orders for the crew to come immediately to the dock and get the speedboat ready.

‘But, sir,’ said the boy, ‘look at the sky! There’s going to be a storm.’

‘Just do it!’ he shouted.

He had to sit down, his legs were shaking so much. Why had he said it all? He had forced Justin to run away. Then he thought of what Justin might do to Max. He knew he had to get to the mail-boat — had to reach Justin before he killed Max.

The storm that had been threatening made a spectacular entrance with a terrifying crack of electricity. Lightning lit up the sky and the ocean, before everything was plunged into darkness again. A second later, a shorter bolt flashed, heralding the thunderclap that followed, and showing Justin in silhouette on the deck, as he waved farewell to the speedboat crew. Max was already worried about the storm and was sure Justin had come after him. He moved closer to one of the men on board, expecting some kind of argument to break out. But Justin never even looked at him.

The mail-boat rolled on the choppy waves, but the crew seemed unconcerned. Max constantly looked skyward in trepidation. He wasn’t sure which was worse: Justin being on board frightened the life out of him, but the crew regaling him with stories of real ‘horror storms’ they had survived made him tremble. They had been at sea more than three-quarters of an hour after delivering the mail to the islands, and it was coming up to eight o’clock. The sky was already pitch black when the rain started. Thankfully it was not heavy. One old man smiled at Max, said the worst was over, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

Justin sat hunched at the stern. He had ignored Max from the moment he had come aboard. He knew the boy was constantly looking at him, knew he was afraid of him, but he wasn’t interested, not yet. He had no desire even to speak to him. His face was set in an expressionless stare looking out to sea. He had taken money and his passport, but wasn’t sure what he intended to do after he had completed his new mission. He was a little ashamed of having taken off in the way he had, but William had unwittingly touched a raw nerve that had made him act on impulse... he had felt the terror rise, the memories of his anguish. Only Laura had dried his tears. Then came the shame he felt when they had taken tiny Laura into their room, not him. He had covered his ears when he heard her calling for him. Later that first night, he had crawled in beside her, bathed her tiny bruised body. Then they had clung to each other, night after night, waiting with fear for their bedroom door to creak open.

‘Come with Mummy, Laura.’

‘Come to Daddy, Justin.’

They had been subjected to such perversion, such pain, and threatened with more if they whispered to a soul what had happened to them. The devil would eat them alive if they ever told anyone about their mummy and daddy’s games. They were special secrets, and they would die if they ever told them. They would be buried alive — and to make sure they understood, they had been forced to watch the burial of their pets, forced to watch the earth cover a tiny canary’s feathered chest, a pet spaniel tied by his paws. They had waited to dig him up and seen the maggots and bugs filling his mouth, his ears and his eyes. They reburied him, more afraid than ever. So they kept the hideous secret until Laura lit the candle and held the flame to her mother’s sheets. Then they had another secret to hide, and another, and another...

Justin had had no option but to get away. He had been afraid of what he might do to William. Seeing Laura regress yet again had not helped: it had made him feel wretched, even though he had seen it many times. He knew she had come out of them before. Sometimes it had taken days, months, but Justin was certain that, whatever happened to him, William would care for Laura. He had never entrusted her to anyone but himself and Marta, but knowing their old nurse would soon be arriving had made his leaving easier to bear. He blamed Max for Laura’s collapse, and now he would make him pay. He would be the last, he swore to himself. After Max there would be no more.

Like a dark shadow, the island disappeared from view. How he had loved it, built it with such dedication and care. Never before had he been so content or happy in a place. He knew every flowering bush, every tree and every cove. He would have liked to spend the rest of his life there because it was his paradise. In his heart, it had become his the moment he had stepped ashore for the first time. That was where he could find peace, forget the horrors that tormented him. Now he was leaving it and he didn’t know or care where he was going to. He would not let his mind drift back to William, who loved the island as much as Justin. If only William had been honest, if only he could just have offered to love and nothing more, but he hadn’t. Instead he had used the hated word ‘father’, which had cut through Justin’s heart and turned him back to the madness that lurked just beneath his beautiful exterior.

William had touched a raw nerve in the hope of gaining some understanding. How could he know he had pressed the button that made Justin want to kill? He turned to face Max, and their eyes locked.