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  Claire, dressed as Captain Hook, swaggered her way onto the stage, followed by Sasha as Peter Pan, Paulina as Wendy and, bringing up the rear, Julia as the Crocodile. She was having great difficulty with her tail.

  They were greeted with applause and began to sing – or rather tried to sing – a version of ‘Never Smile at a Crocodile’. However, they were laughing so hard at Julia’s struggle to keep from tripping over her tail, that the only distinct words were the Crocodile’s tick-tock, tick-tock.

  Claire couldn’t help but smile. Soon all four of them were singing along with the DVD and laughing almost as hard as they had that night.

  Their on-screen performance finished to thunderous applause.

  A charming, happy-go-lucky Claire stepped to the microphone, and addressed the audience saying, ‘If you enjoyed that as much as we did, please pledge whatever you can to keep Near and Far helping families here in Westport and anywhere else there is a need.’

  The camera panned to the audience, where a vastly different Mark Saunders was standing throwing bank-notes onto the stage and urging the other members of the audience to do the same. He was relaxed and happy and obviously proud of his wife.

  Soon the quartet was being pelted with money, which they stuffed into the now-untied tail of Julia’s crocodile. ‘That was five years ago,’ Sasha said, pausing the tape.

  ‘I had forgotten how wonderfully awful we were,’ Claire said.

  ‘We haven’t forgotten, Claire.’ It was Paulina this time, crowding in next to Claire on the sofa, putting an arm around her. ‘Play last year’s benefit, Sash.’

  Sasha pressed ‘play’ and they were back at the same place, with different decorations. In the background could be heard music from The Mikado as some other Westporters made fools of themselves for charity. The camera, however, was focused on a table for eight. The four friends and their husbands, doing their best to be festive. It was obviously an effort.

  Mark sat stony-faced, and Claire chattered nervously, trying to appear normal. Dance music began to play and an MC called the crowd to the dance floor. Three of the husbands jumped up and led their wives to the floor. Mark remained in his chair.

  The moment they were alone at the table, he grabbed Claire’s wrist and started scolding her. The sound wasn’t clear, but the rage on his face was. Claire tried to wrench herself away from him but he was too strong. He gave her wrist a twist, got up from the table and left. Claire sat there for a long moment trying to settle her face, discreetly nursing her injured wrist, and looking around to see if anyone had noticed.

  Sasha stopped the DVD, freezing the frame on Claire’s misery. Claire couldn’t take her eyes off her image on the screen.

  ‘I didn’t capture this scene on purpose, Claire, I want you to know that.’ Sasha told her. ‘My video guy had taken a cigarette break and left the camera focused on our table. I only watched this a few weeks ago. I cried when I saw it.’

  ‘I didn’t cry,’ Paulina said. ‘I signed up for a kick-boxing class so I could take that man down if he ever lays a hand on you again, Claire.’

  ‘That’s not helpful, Paulie,’ Julia said.

  ‘Sorry. But I’ll do it, I swear,’ Paulina promised.

  ‘The thing is, Claire,’ Julia said, kneeling at her feet, ‘you don’t have the strength to get away from him. That’s what happens to women who are battered. They can’t bear what’s happening to them, so they convince themselves it’s not so bad. But it is bad! It’s horrible! And it’s getting worse.’

  ‘We want you to know –’ Sasha paused, twisted around, so Claire had to look her in the eye – ‘that if you are not strong enough right now to fight for yourself, we will do it for you until you are ready. Please, please let us help you.’

  Claire was still transfixed by the misery of her image on the screen. Finally, she turned to her friends. ‘All right. What is it you want me to do?’

  The women looked at one another, relief obvious on their faces. ‘For starters, stay here for a few days. Hang out with Aunt Mary. She’s a pretty wise old broad.’

  ‘Mark will be looking for me. You know that,’ Claire told them.

  ‘He won’t find you. We stashed your car up at the lake,’ Paulina explained.

  ‘I’ll stay, but just for tonight. And what about Deborah? He’ll call her. She’ll be frantic!’ Claire looked anxious.

  ‘I’m her godmother,’ Sasha said. ‘I’ll take of her.’

  ‘You won’t tell her about this, any of it?’ Claire asked nervously.

  ‘Of course I won’t. If she ever knows, it will be from you.’

  ‘All right,’ Claire said.

  Paulina pulled a velvet cord, and they all began gathering their things. ‘Aunt Mary will be here in a minute. Love you, babe.’

  They all gave her hugs, but Claire was simply too numb to respond.

  ‘We will be in touch in the morning. Just sleep, okay? And know you are safe,’ Sasha reassured her.

  They were almost out of the door, when Claire stopped them. ‘That man who brought me here. Who was he?’

  ‘Marty drafted in his brother, Keith. I think Marty’s been more worried about you than we have. Love you!’ Paulina flashed a smile.

  And then they disappeared out through the huge doors and into the darkness, leaving Claire alone in the great hall. She poked the ashes, kindling what was left of the fire. ‘They don’t know Mark,’ she whispered to herself. ‘They don’t know the kind of power he has. He will find me.’

  Thirteen

  Mark drove home cautiously. The run-in with that vicious dog had cleared his head enough to make him realise that he could not afford to have his car stopped.

  After what seemed for ever, he turned off Sasco Creek Road and drove through his own gates. He was too worked up even to feel relief. He could not believe he had put himself in this position. He never drank to excess like this. Jeff, he was sure, would entertain everyone on the train tomorrow morning with tales of Mark Saunders’ drunken visit. He’d have the whole carriage laughing about how his crazy dog nearly tore one of the President’s key men apart.

  He let himself into the house, still kicking himself for going over to the Grangers’. That move was not smart; it was not him. That, and the call to Deborah, had shaken him. What was wrong with him? He was the guy who thought things through, the guy who never asked a question unless he knew what the answer would be.

  He checked the answering machine. Nothing.

  It was Claire. This was her fault. She was turning him into someone he wasn’t. Well, that was going to stop. No more drinking, that’s for sure. He could best deal with Claire with a clear head.

  He went into his study and sat at his desk thinking things through. After a moment or two he knew what he must do. He unlocked a drawer and took out a throwaway cell phone and a small address book. He found a number and dialled it. The call was answered instantly.

  ‘Yes sir?’

  ‘I have a job for you.’

  ‘At your service.’

  ‘I need you to find someone for me.’

  ‘Consider it done.’

  ‘It’s a bit tricky.’

  ‘I specialise in tricky, as you well know. That’s why you’re calling me.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Next question.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m not myself tonight. How soon can you be in Connecticut?’

  Mark waited, listening to the sound of someone typing fast on a computer keyboard.

  ‘I can be in New York by nine tomorrow morning. I’ll call you on this phone when I land.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  A click and the call was disconnected. Mark locked the phone and book back in the drawer and, feeling lighter than he had in some time, headed for the shower.

  Fourteen

  Claire followed Sister Mary Theresa down a dimly lit corridor lined with doors on either side. The nun had a grace about her that made her seem young, and with her habit silently skimming t
he floor, she appeared to be floating. She opened one of the arched oak doors and entered, beckoning Claire to follow.

  It was a small room, furnished with a twin bed in an ancient iron frame, a straight chair and a low chest with two drawers. On the chest stood a jug of water, a glass, and the lamp that gave the room’s only light. A colourful handmade rag rug was spread on the wooden, wide-planked floor. Instead of a wardrobe, several round wooden pegs stuck out from the wall.

  ‘These were the servants’ quarters when this was a grand home. I must warn you the heating up here is erratic, but I’ll bring more blankets for you.’

  ‘I’ll be fine, Sister.’

  ‘I know you will be. Although the comfort level is not what you’re used to, here we offer what your beautiful home cannot: safety.’

  Claire shuddered. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for going to all this trouble for me. I just don’t think I should …’ She stopped herself. ‘Problem is, I can’t think right now.’

  ‘You don’t need to think; you need to rest. I’ve put a nightgown for you, there on the bed. You get changed while I rustle up some blankets.’ Claire managed a smile as the nun left the room.

  She peeled off her leather jacket with great effort, more tired than she could ever remember. She had just pulled off her sweater when Sister Mary Theresa floated back into the room holding a quilted bed cover.

  ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God!’ The Sister spoke without thinking. Her eyes were fixed on Claire’s back and shoulders, which bore the scars of many an old battle. Although a week had passed since the last attack, her entire left side was still covered with bruising.

  ‘My dear child, what has he done to you?’

  Claire covered herself with the nightgown and hung her head, fighting tears. ‘I provoke him.’

  Sister Mary Theresa’s touch was gentle as she lifted Claire’s chin, but her voice was filled with outrage. ‘Do not hang your head, ever. This is not your fault! Someone has made you think you deserve to be beaten, but that is not true.’

  ‘There are things you don’t know.’ Claire was still trying to keep from crying. ‘I’ve not been a good wife …’ She sank onto the bed, too exhausted in mind and body to stop the tears from coming.

  Sister Mary Theresa sat next to her, helping her into the nightgown. ‘Look at me, dear.’

  ‘I tried. I really tried. I did everything I could think of to make Mark happy. But maybe there was always part of me that was somewhere else. I think he sensed that. And that’s why he hurts me. Because I hurt him.’

  Sister did not speak until Claire lifted her tear-stained face to her. ‘People feel the way they feel, Claire. We cannot always control our thoughts and our feelings. That’s part of being human. What we can control is our behaviour. Our words and our deeds – they are what matter.’

  ‘I loved Mark when we were married. I love him now. But not in the right way.’

  ‘I see. Well, actually, I don’t see.’ Sister Mary Theresa found a white handkerchief somewhere in her habit, and gave it to Claire. ‘I wasn’t aware there was a right and a wrong way to love. I’ve been taught that the very act of loving is in itself perfect.’

  ‘I loved Mark but not enough, don’t you understand? It was not like I loved …’ the name came out in a whisper. ‘Walker … Walker Kennedy.’ When she said his name, a name unspoken for so many years, it was as though a dam had burst and the words started pouring from her in a torrent.

  ‘I don’t think I can find the words to explain what it was like, Sister. Think of any cliché you’ve heard about love: at first sight, passionate, soulmates, one person in two bodies. That was what it was like for Walker and me. Sadly, “star-crossed” also applies. We had everything, and then nothing. It was over. He was gone. Love was gone.’

  ‘Would you like to tell me about it?’

  ‘I don’t want to, but I think I have to. I’ve kept it all bottled up inside so many years: twenty-two, to be exact. Maybe, if I say it all, I can escape from him once and for all; put the memory away in a place where it can’t hurt me or hurt Mark.’

  ‘Then by all means, say it all.’

  Claire curled up on the narrow bed, lost in another time. ‘I know this sounds crazy, but it makes me happy just to hear his name, to say it out loud after so many years. Walker Kennedy. It sounds like music. It’s a story I’ve never told anyone, not even Sasha. It’s a story so terrible and wonderful that, if it were known, life would never be the same for me or Mark. But, most importantly, for my darling Deborah.’

  Fifteen

  Sasha, Paulina and Julia were sipping wine on the screened-in porch, listening to the Saugatuck River burble and complain as the low tide pulled it back towards the Sound. Connecticut evenings in early spring were chilly, but the splendour of a full moon over water made the cold bearable. The women were lined up on the sofa, three across, feet on the coffee table, wrapped in blankets.

  Paulina sighed, looking at the moon. ‘We look like three desperate housewives on the deck of a cruise ship. All we need is Claire here for this to be paradise.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll stay there, where she’s safe, at least for a day or two?’ Julia was munching on some nuts she just happened to have in her giant handbag. She offered them to the others. ‘You have to admit, we were a little out of our minds to try to pull this off.’

  ‘It’s a good thing we did it when we did it. You heard Jeff. Mark was over here looking for her, raging like a lunatic.’ Sasha topped up their wine glasses. ‘I wish Jeff had let the dog go after him.’

  ‘I wish he could guard Claire twenty-four/seven,’ Julia said, pushing her wine out of reach. ‘But since he can’t, we need to do it.’ She offered her friends another nut.

  ‘You know, Julia,’ Paulina said, ‘if you pulled a leg of lamb out of that handbag of yours, I wouldn’t bat an eyelid.’

  ‘People need nourishment in time of stress.’

  ‘Quite right,’ Sasha agreed, helping herself to another. ‘Now let’s go over everything before this wine takes effect. We need to make sure there are no loose ends. Paulina, are you sure no one saw you take Claire’s car?’

  ‘Only the snatcher,’ she answered, rolling her eyes. ‘I parked out at the front, and walked around, and there was Marty’s brother, leaning against the car, doing his best to look like he’d just stepped out of The Sopranos. I didn’t dare make eye contact with him. Claire’s keys were on the console, just as you said they would be.’

  ‘I’ve been telling Claire for years that leaving her keys in the car was a bad idea,’ Sasha said. ‘How a woman as smart as she is can be so blind to danger is beyond me.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because she’s so kind herself – she can’t get her head around the fact that not everyone is like her. Anyway, once I got the car out of the lot, I headed up to the lake, going about two miles an hour so no one would notice me. I put it in the barn like we planned. Julia picked me up in her truck and we headed back to meet you. I certainly hope my life of crime is over,’ Paulina said, getting up and stretching. Then she added, ‘Obeying the speed limit is a nightmare.’

  Sasha turned to Julia. ‘You fixed her phone so she can’t be traced?’

  ‘Like I told Claire, I followed Paulie into the back lot and ran over that phone with my truck, crushing it completely.’

  ‘So, no loose ends?’ Sasha raised a brow.

  ‘Well, there is one.’ Both women stared at Julia. ‘I got a text a little while ago. Marty’s brother Keith is freaking out because he’s been driving around with Mark Saunders’ shirts in his car. About twenty-five of them.’

  ‘Oh lord,’ Paulina said.

  ‘He’s afraid he’ll be arrested for stealing shirts. Seriously.’

  Sasha had to giggle. ‘He had no problem kidnapping a woman in broad daylight, but he draws the line at shirt-napping?’

  ‘Maybe it’s a federal offence.’ Paulina was laughing now. ‘They’ve got some crazy laws on the books. He may have broken section two,
article eight of the dry-cleaning act.’

  And in seconds they were all helpless with laughter.

  ‘I needed that,’ Sasha said, wiping tears from her eyes, serious now. ‘Okay, Mark. We must deal with Mark before he makes the rounds of all of our homes issuing threats.’

  ‘Good plan,’ Julia said. ‘I can’t promise Alexa won’t greet him with a baseball bat if he so much as walks up on the porch.’

  ‘I’ll call him,’ Sasha said, reaching for her cell phone.

  ‘Now?’ Paulina checked her watch. ‘It’s two in the morning.’

  Sasha was already dialling. ‘If he’s not up, he should be. His wife is missing.’

  Mark picked up on the first ring. ‘Mark Saunders.’

  ‘Hi, Mark, it’s Sasha. Jeff said you stopped by tonight.’ She switched on the speakerphone so the others could listen.

  ‘Where is she? Where is Claire?’

  ‘She’s not there?’

  ‘If she were here I would not have been out looking for her. I’m frantic with worry.’

  Sasha rolled her eyes at the other women. ‘I’m sure you are, Mark. I was at a meeting for Near and Far. Claire didn’t show up there either. I have no idea where she is.’

  Mark, careful not to lose control again, switched on the charm. ‘Come on, Sash, you four gals don’t comb your hair without checking with each other.’

  Paulina made a face, mouthing gals.

  Sasha gave back as good as she was given, turning on a little charm of her own. ‘You guys don’t know how to make friends, so you’ll never understand how it is with us gals.’

  Julia gave her a thumbs-up.

  ‘Well, now I’m worried about Claire,’ Sasha said. ‘Did you check your answering machine? Look for a note? Maybe she texted you?’

  Mark was having trouble pretending to be friendly. ‘I’m not totally without a brain, Sasha. Of course I did, plus I’ve checked the hospitals, even called the police to see if there had been any accidents. There weren’t. So I just assumed she was with you.’