I'll Be There Read online

  Drifter laughed when she complained. ‘Cool it, babe. There’s nothing like a little loving to make a man mellow.’

  Her blood pressure rose after Christmas. Because the baby was overdue, they admitted her to hospital and induced the birth.

  Drifter was frantic with worry, but the labor was short – the infant slipping from her like a calf from a cow. When Drifter was allowed to visit she had the baby tucked protectively against her chest.

  He pulled back the shawl and smiled. ‘She’s a cutie with that bald head. Why is she that funny color?’

  ‘Jaundice. They said she’ll be all right in a day or two.’

  ‘Saffron.’ He chuckled as he put his arms around them both. ‘That’s what we’ll call her.’

  Griff came to see her after she returned home. He brought a teddy bear for the baby and was pleasant to Drifter. He was taken aback by the nature of the people living in the house.

  ‘This isn’t a good environment to bring a baby up in,’ he said when Drifter went to make some coffee. ‘You’re not messing about with drugs, are you?’

  ‘Do I look that stupid, Griff?’

  A grin slid across his mouth. ‘You look disgustingly healthy, and totally smug.’

  ‘Saffy’s beautiful, isn’t she?’

  ‘The best baby I’ve ever laid eyes on. I hope you’re going to ask me to be her godfather.’

  Drifter set the tray of coffee on the table. ‘We’re not having her christened, that conventional crap is old-fashioned.’

  When disappointment touched Griff’s eyes, anger trickled down Janey’s spine. If Drifter thought he’d make decisions like this all by himself, he could think again.

  ‘Who the hell decided Saffy wasn’t going to be christened!’ she exploded after Griff had gone.

  ‘Hell, I’m her pops, aren’t I?’

  ‘Then why did you insist your name be left off her birth certificate?’

  ‘Aw, hell.’ He slumped into a chair. ‘Don’t get mad, Mistral. If you want Doc Tyler to be her godfather it’s all right by me. You know why I’m not taking any chances. If my Grandfathers catch up with me they’ll shove me in a suit and glue my ass to a chair behind a desk.’

  ‘And you think they’re going to check every new birth certificate. For God’s sake, Drifter, get real.’

  His eyes shifted to the door. ‘I think I’ll go downstairs for a bit. I expect you want to paint.’

  ‘I’ve got to feed Saffy first.’

  ‘There’s a few people coming up on Saturday to celebrate Saffy’s arrival. That all right with you?’

  Her heart sank, but he looked so pleased with the idea that she had no other choice but to summon up a smile.

  Saffy took over her life. Nappies ... washing ... feeding ... bathing. After a month she’d organized her life sufficiently to fit in her painting. She was so tired, that when she fell into bed she hardly had the energy to wish Drifter good night.

  Devlin was pleased with her Mistral paintings. It wasn’t what she wanted to express on canvas, but they were quick to paint and brought in money. Not that she needed any, because Drifter insisted on paying for everything. Her bank account got fatter and fatter.

  ‘You’re my girl,’ he said, but never once suggested they make it legal. Not that she wanted to get married, she told herself, but it would have been nice to be asked.

  She sent money to Pamela with her next letter.

  By return post, she learned that Linda had married. There was a photo of Susie, taken at school. She was smiling, but her eyes were unhappy. She’d be eleven in autumn.

  Drifter threw a surprise party for her twentieth birthday, to which even Devlin was invited. Janey’s heart sank when she returned from putting Saffy to bed, and found the residents gathered in their lounge room, but she forced a smile to her face as they shouted, ‘Happy birthday!’

  Drifter drew her into his arms and kissed her, then pulled a small box from his pocket. ‘Hush everyone. I’m about to propose to my girl.’

  Horrified when he dropped to one knee, Janey didn’t know quite what to say. ‘I suppose so,’ she stammered. There was a cold glitter of diamonds as a ring was slid on her finger, then everyone cheered. Drifter was born away, and a glass was placed in her hand.

  ‘I can’t drink that. I’m breast feeding.’

  ‘It’s fruit punch. Conner made it especially for you.’

  Felicity looked stunning in a sleek black dress, but her eyes were shadowed underneath, and her smile fixed. Her hand trembled as she bore a glass her lips.

  ‘Are you all right, Felicity?’

  ‘Perfectly, darling.’ She gazed to where Connor sat, spouting his poetry to a dirty looking group of students. ‘Connor’s being a frightful bore, that’s all. He’s begun to believe he’s some sort of genius.’ Felicity sounded as stunned as Janey felt as her eyes flickered to Drifter. ‘Congratulations, I didn’t think he wanted to tie himself down.’

  Devlin wasn’t quite so generous when he drew her aside. ‘You little fool,’ he snarled. ‘When he decides to grow up that whoremonger will break your heart.’

  Something was stuck to the side of the glass. Fishing it out with her finger she murmured, ‘What’s this?’

  Devlin swore as he took the tiny speck of paper from her. ‘It’s a blotter. If I’m not mistaken, your drink’s been spiked with acid.’

  ‘Acid?’

  ‘LSD. Where does that doctor friend of yours work?’

  Fear sent goose pimples rioting along her spine. ‘Hackney hospital.’

  ‘Good. Fetch the baby and get in my car. Be quick, we haven’t got much time.’

  ‘What about Drifter?’

  ‘I’ll see to him.’

  As she left with Saffy bundled under a shawl she saw Drifter on the floor with a crowd of people round him. Blood gushed from his nose.’

  ‘What have you done?’ she whispered.

  ‘Nothing he didn’t deserve.’

  ‘What’s going to happen to me, Devlin?’ Fear was rippling along her body like little waves, one after the other.

  ‘I guess you’re going on a trip.’ The eyes he turned her way were glacial. ‘For your sake, I hope it’s a good one.’

  ‘And if it’s not?’

  His hand covered hers for a second and he sighed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.’

  * * * *

  Colors, brilliant colors, singing like a choir of different winds coming from the centre of the universe. Reaching out, she caught one. It changed into a key that seared into the flesh of her palm.

  The pain was so intense that she cried out, and plunged her arm into the ocean. The waves boiled up around it, steam filled her mouth, her eyes and her nostrils. She was choking on it.

  Saffy was locked in a room, calling her with a thin reedy cry from far away. The shadow was taking her child.

  ‘Saffy!’ she screamed.

  ‘She’s fine.’

  Griff’s voice, calmed her, but he didn’t understand. Her hand closed around his wrist. ‘The shadow will hurt her.’

  She took Griff’s hand with her when she plunged into the whirlpool and swam to the door. It was locked. Desperately, she pounded on it. ‘Let me in.’

  You have the key, a voice in her head said.

  ‘I’ve lost it.’

  It’s in your hand.

  ‘That’s a scar.’

  It doesn’t have to be a scar.

  She tried to peel the scar from her hand but it wouldn’t let her.

  Saffy gave a silent, wrenching cry.

  She struggled with her hand, prising each stubborn finger from around the key.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ it said. ‘I’m the keeper of the shadow.’

  ‘The shadow is mine,’ she argued. Seizing the key she thrust it in the lock and entered the room. The shadow was hunched on the wall, moving, threatening. She experienced Saffy’s pain, absorbed it, making it her own so her child wouldn’t have to suffer.

  The shadow was unaw
are of her creeping up on it. The choking dust muffled her footfall. It had its back to her, and she couldn’t see its face.

  She inched her way on to the pillow, melting into a shaft of moonlight coming through the window.

  It was him! He was punishing her child!

  Giving an anguished scream she picked up a candle from the dressing table and thrust hot wax into his eyes. His vision soaked up the light and she stared into the face of evil.

  ‘I’m your daughter,’ she cried out. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’

  * * * *

  ‘She’s not making much sense.’

  ‘She is to me.’

  Devlin glanced at the clock. ‘How much longer?’

  ‘It could be another six or seven hours.’ Griff smoothed the tangled hair back from Janey’s forehead. ‘Why don’t you catch some sleep?’

  ‘What’s the point? Saffy will be yelling for another feed or a nappy change soon.’ Devlin grinned. ‘I hadn’t realized babies peed so much.’

  ‘It goes in one end and out the other. She hasn’t had any trouble taking to the bottle, then?’

  ‘The kid soaks it up like a wino on the slops, then belches half of it down my shirt. I stink to high heaven.’

  ‘If you burped her half way through, it might help.’

  ‘You try taking the bottle out of her mouth. She’s got a suck on her like a vacuum cleaner.’

  Griff chuckled, then turned towards the bed as Janey gave a drawn out moan.

  ‘What is it?’ Janey. What’s happening?’

  ‘He’s waiting for her, in the cow-shed.’

  His eyes sharpened. ‘Who’s waiting, Janey?’

  There was a long moment of hush when her breath was held, then a whispered, ‘The shadow. She doesn’t see it yet, but she senses something.’

  ‘Phil ... Griff ...?’

  Her frightened, young girl voice made the hairs prickle on Griff’s neck.

  Saffy gave a short, sudden cry from the other room.

  ‘Don’t hurt me, daddy ... please don’t hurt me ... I can’t breathe ... ‘

  Devlin rose to his feet, his face pale. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘I’m out of here. Is there anything I can get you?’

  ‘I could do with some coffee and a sandwich.’

  ‘I’m suffocating.’ Janey’s eyes suddenly snapped open and she focused on him. Her pupils were pinpricks ‘Don’t leave me alone with him, Griff’ she begged. ‘Last time you came too late.’

  ‘I’m here now, Janey.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Hold on to me. I’ll help you through it.’

  Tears flooded Devlin’s eyes. Leaving the room he poured himself a stiff brandy, and raising it towards the bedroom door, muttered.

  ‘Here’s to you, Griff Tyler. You’re quite a guy.’

  Saffy gave a furious, demanding yell from the other room.

  ‘Shit! I hate babies,’ he said. Placing his drink on the table he hurried through to the spare bedroom.

  Saffy was a bundle of furious rage, her arms punching the air like a heavyweight champion in a title fight.

  ‘What are you all steamed up about?’

  She stopped crying and turned her head towards his voice. Eyes a clear shade of green gazed up at him.

  His nose wrinkled. ‘Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a stinker?’

  Saffy gave him a gummy smile, and he melted.

  ‘How would you like me for a godfather?’ he said.

  There came a time when Janey saw a dark whirlpool amongst the brightness. She fell towards it with a silent scream, but jerked awake before it could suck her in.

  She’d had a nightmare. She tried to move, but her limbs felt as if they were coated in treacle. Then she saw Griff asleep in the chair, and remembered.

  Her fist beat against the cover. ‘No, No, No!’

  In an instant, Griff was at her side. His fingers peeled opened her unresisting eyelids and he shone a light into her eyes.

  ‘Good,’ he grunted.

  ‘Not good ... the light feels like ice.’

  A stethoscope was placed against her chest.

  ‘Boom biddy boom!’ she said, and then laughed hysterically at her own joke.

  Griff, managed a tiny, humoring grin. ‘You’re feeling pretty rotten now, but you’ll soon improve.’

  She pushed aside the blood pressure cuff he was trying to wrap around her arm. ‘Stop playing doctors for five minutes ... why didn’t you tell me, Griff?’

  His eyes came to rest gently on hers. ‘Tell you what?’

  ‘You know damned well what! That it wasn’t a car accident. That I was ... well, you know?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t there. You tell me, Janey.’

  She felt close to tears. He was being deliberately obtuse and making her angry. Rage rose in her like a white hot column. She lashed out at him, her fists beating furiously against his chest with a hollow thumping sound. ‘You do know, Griff. You do know!’

  ‘Say it, Janey. Spit it out and get rid of it!’

  ‘I was beaten up and raped! Edward Renfrew raped me, and somebody else went to prison for it. Damn him! Damn him to hell!’

  Griff’s arms came round her and he hugged her close. ‘It’s a mistake to disassociate yourself. Are you telling me that your father raped you?’

  She pushed herself from his arms, her face horrified as she sank back against the pillows.

  ‘I wish it was that easy.’ Her head began to throb. ‘No, my father didn’t rape me, Griff ... it was Edward Renfrew.’ Her hands came up to her face and she began to sob.

  ‘Oh God, what an awful mess. My father ... my real father is Jack Bellamy, otherwise known as the artist, John Gregory! I should have realized they wouldn’t have sent him to prison for all that time over an accident.’

  Chapter Ten

  Drifter stuck his elbow on Devlin’s doorbell and kept it there. If the agent so much as looked at him the wrong way he’d rip him into little pieces, and to hell with the consequences.

  The door opened so suddenly he fell through it. Sprawling face down he found himself staring at Devlin’s fancy Italian shoes. He sprang to his feet, fists at the ready.

  ‘I want to see Mistral and nothing’s going to stop me.’

  Devlin’s voice dripped acid as he turned and walked away. ‘Wait here while I ask Janey if wants to see you. If not, you’ll find your American ass kissing the pavement.

  Drifter inspected the hallway while he waited. The limey sure knew the value of understated elegance. Wood-paneled walls supported several paintings.

  A half-table displayed a statuette of a woman. She lacked head and arms and leaned slightly backwards from the hips, her perfect figure outlined under a filmy gown.

  ‘I bet you were some chick before you were dissected,’ he said.

  In an alcove stood a chaise lounge covered in red brocade – above it, discreetly illuminated, a painting of poppies spilling across a table – Mistral’s painting.

  He gazed at it for a long time, and then moved on to the other paintings. Andrew Wyeth, an Andre Derain landscape, one of his later works and certainly far from his best ... a Picasso drawing. Mistral was in hallowed company.

  He moved back to the statue, picked it up and examined it.

  ‘T’ang dynasty, sixth to seventh century,’ Devlin said dryly,’ then taking it from his hands he placed it back on the table. ‘It’s a pity it’s only a copy. The original is priceless.’

  ‘Cut out the small talk, Devlin. Will she see me or not?’

  Devlin gave him a long, level stare. ‘God only knows why. Top floor, first door on the left.’ A hand closed around his wrist before he could move. ‘Upset her, and I’ll remodel your entire body.’

  ‘Let go, unless you want me to shove your fake T’ang dynasty up your ass-hole.’

  Devlin’s grip relaxed and he gave a tight grin. ‘Grow up pussy-cat ... my ass could bite your arm off at the elbow.’


  They eyeballed each other for a second, and then by common consent both men turned away, Drifter moved towards the stairs, and Devlin towards his study.

  ‘Mistral, baby!’

  Janey rose from her chair at the window, and placed the sleeping Saffy on the bed.

  ‘How are you, Drifter?’

  His heart took a dive when he saw the set look on her pale face.

  ‘Hey, Babe,’ he said softly. ‘What’s eating at you? I didn’t feed you that crap. You know I never touch the stuff.’

  ‘Why, Drifter ... why did Felicity do it? Are you involved with her?’

  Taking note of the suspicious nuance in her voice he shifted his eyes to Saffy for a few moments, smiling as he lied. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, babe. It was Connor.’

  ‘Connor?’ Her eyes widened in complete bewilderment. ‘Why would he do such an awful thing?’

  ‘He was jealous of the success of your exhibition.’

  ‘My exhibition?’ She crossed to where he stood, and placed her hand on his arm. ‘Why should he be?’

  ‘You based the paintings on his poetry. He approached Devlin and asked if he could do some readings. Devlin told him to get lost.’

  ‘He should have asked me.’

  ‘He was given the impression it came from you.’ His fingers smoothed her pale hair back from her face. ‘Believe me, he’s a sorry son of a bitch now.’ His finger lodged under her chin and he tilted her face up. ‘When are you coming home?’

  ‘I ... I don’t know. Griff said I might get side effects from the drug ... flashbacks and things ... I might need him.’

  Janey was worried about what she might say if she did, though Griff had assured her the flashbacks only last a few minutes, at most. She couldn’t tell Drifter about her childhood trauma – she just couldn’t!

  ‘Hey, we can handle it.’ He pressed a small tender kiss against her mouth. ‘Besides, there’s nothing to stop Doc Tyler dropping in any time he wants. I like the guy. I love you, babe. You, me and Saffy ... we’re a family.’

  She sighed as she laid her head against his chest and listened to the slow steady beat of his heart. It would be so much easier if she didn’t love him ... and there was Saffy to think of. Drifter loved her.

  Twenty minutes later Devlin seethed as he watched them drive off in Drifter’s battered old van.