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  Rachel’s eyes burned with defiance. ‘You want to know? You want to know what kind of man he was, you want to know why I wanted him out of your life?’ She held her breath, as if she had a split second to turn back. ‘He didn’t just have sex with that model. He wanted sex with me. What sort of a man would try to have sex with his wife’s sister?’

  ‘LIAR!’ Diana’s hand flew out and she slapped Rachel hard across the face.

  For a moment the world seemed to stop turning. Rachel stood there clutching her cheek.

  ‘Why would you say such a wicked thing?’ whispered Diana.

  ‘Because it’s true,’ croaked Rachel between sobs. ‘It happened in Italy a few summers ago when we all went away together. He was drunk, so was I. He followed me . . .’

  Diana could remember that Tuscan holiday vividly. It had been the week of Julian’s birthday, and they had invited Rachel along for the ride. She could picture her sister now, reluctant to join the wives and girlfriends in their poolside manicure sessions. Instead she had raced around the grounds with water pistols, organised impromptu girls-versus-boys water polo matches and regaled the dinner table with scurrilous stories about unfaithful celebrities and industry rumours from the City desk. The female guests had frowned at her antics but the men had been fascinated by her. ‘I’m not like those other women,’ she’d heard Rachel say to one of them, and it was certainly true.

  ‘I think you need help,’ said Diana, starting to shake, not wishing to concede that her own husband had been enchanted by Rachel. ‘You’re crazy, a fantasist. What did he do? Ask you for a light? For a drink? And you think that he wanted you.’

  ‘It was a bit more than that,’ Rachel said, looking away.

  Diana felt a wave of nausea. An image popped into her head. Of Rachel and Julian, giddy on red wine, heady from the sun. She stamped the thought out before it sharpened into more painful focus.

  ‘You had sex with him?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t. But he tried to kiss me, whispered things in my ear . . . I said no and he wouldn’t take that for an answer. I almost had to kick him in the bloody balls.’ She shook her head violently.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ whispered Diana.

  ‘Of course you don’t. Maybe I’m not as beautiful as you or all those other women in Tuscany, but I think Julian just wanted what he couldn’t have. And he didn’t care that that was your sister. He didn’t care who he hurt or humiliated. I wanted him out of your life, Di, though not in this way, and I am so sorry and sad about what happened to him. But he didn’t treat you the way you deserved to be treated.’

  ‘So you were doing me a favour, is that it? You exposed him in the national press as a way of helping me out, his poor ignorant wife who needed to have all her stupid illusions shattered. Is that what you were doing?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Rachel. Her voice was barely audible.

  ‘Well it didn’t feel like it, Rachel. It felt like you were breaking my heart.’

  Diana looked down and realised she was still clutching the crumpled news report. She walked over to the desk and, smoothing it out, left it on top of the file where she had found it. Then she opened the Lake House door.

  ‘Di, please . . .’

  Diana shook her head. ‘I can’t speak to you. I don’t even want to look at you.’ She turned around and walked out into the night. Behind her, she heard Rachel’s voice.

  ‘Diana, wait!’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, what now? Do you want me to finish the job or not?’

  Diana snorted and shook her head. ‘I think it’s the least you can do,’ she said. And she turned back towards the house.

  20

  Rachel had never really enjoyed air travel. Turbulence or the thought of crashing didn’t scare her; it was just that she was naturally a doer, and therefore sitting still for eight hours as she and Ross crossed the Atlantic was her idea of hell.

  ‘Why don’t you just do like I do and take advantage of the bar?’ said Ross, clearly enjoying the perks of business class. ‘It’s all free, you know.’

  Rachel shook her head. She had watched her companion sink three generous Scotches already, and they hadn’t even served the in-flight meal yet. Experience had taught her that it was never a good idea to drink on the plane, that your hangover always seemed to exaggerate the jet lag, or was it the other way around? Besides, she wanted to be clear-headed when they got to Washington. After her horrible row with Diana the day before, she certainly felt as though she owed her sister the courtesy of doing her job to the best of her abilities, not half-cut.

  She had gone over their argument again and again since she had boarded the plane, even confessing the details to Ross, who had simply nodded and explained that honesty was invariably the best policy before suggesting she have a champagne cocktail to forget about it.

  But Rachel couldn’t forget about it. She had never been able to forget that hot, dusky night in Tuscany. It had been a real treat to spend a week somewhere as beautiful and luxurious as the Denvers’ palazzo. It wasn’t her world. Foreign trips were generally of the chasing-celebrities-around-Cannes-film-festival or press-junket type, and they had been getting increasingly rare as office budgets were slashed and she was forced to spend more time behind her desk. She could see it now, the stunning palazzo surrounded by poppy fields, olive groves and cypress trees. She could smell the lavender and the bougainvillea, taste the lobster risotto and almond biscuits cooked by the household chef, feel the warm water of the infinity pool against her sun-roasted skin as she dived through its surface. And she could hear the footsteps behind her in the darkness, tap, tap, expensive leather against cold stone, as she walked down the path towards her room, a single-storey cottage in the grounds.

  She hadn’t thought to ask Julian why he had followed her – after all, her cottage was some distance from the palazzo. But he was drunk, and so was she. It had been his birthday the previous day, and they were all still high from the free-flowing champagne and the furtive lines of cocaine. After a few minutes of polite chat they had both fallen silent and all she had been able to hear was the distant shrieks and laughter of those guests still around the pool, and the sound of cicadas on the warm evening air. That was when he had kissed her. Or tried to. Pressing her against the wooden door of her cottage, sliding his hand down the back of her skirt until his fingers touched the top of her thong, breathing into her ear that he had always wanted her, that no one needed to know, that it could be their little secret. He was making an offer Rachel had no doubt would have been attractive to almost any of the women at that villa: to be Julian’s mistress, his bit on the side.

  Instead, Rachel had kneed him in the groin and, while he was doubled up on the floor, had whispered in his ear, ‘If I hear that you have played around on my sister ever again, I will make the pain you are in right now feel like a kiss.’

  Clearly he hadn’t listened – and that was why she and Ross were flying across the Atlantic to talk to the family of a girl Julian had almost certainly been screwing. What the hell was it about these men? Why couldn’t they keep their cocks in their pants? Did they really do it just because they could? A combination of weakness and male arrogance that made them overlook the little detail that they were married.

  She looked over at Ross. Of course, it didn’t always work that way. She didn’t know the whole story of his relationship, but she knew that his wife had cheated on him with the man from the local dry-cleaner’s, citing Ross’s frequent nights away on stakeouts as reason enough. If he had been rich, would she have put up with his absences? Turned a blind eye?

  Love just didn’t work the way it should, not the way it did in books and songs, anyway. She thought of Liam for a moment, wishing she had stayed – wishing he had asked her to stay. But no, like everyone else, he had thought she should go. ‘Be with your sister.’


  Well, that was all going so well, wasn’t it?

  In Thailand, Rachel had seen real poverty. In Ko Tao there was a whole fishing village made from bamboo, thatched palm leaves and rusting corrugated iron. Beyond their nets and the clothes they stood up in, those people had nothing, but, being Buddhists, they were genuinely happy to share their last bowl of rice with you. Pulling up outside the Kopek residence, Rachel certainly didn’t get that feeling of forbearance and togetherness. They had picked up a hire car at Dulles airport and driven a hundred miles west, towards the Appalachians, until they came to Rocksburgh, Maryland, pop. 2,347. Growing up, Rachel had always considered America to be the most starry and glamorous of destinations. It was Disneyland and movie stars, Pacific beaches and city skyscrapers. But this was not the USA of her dreams. This was poor, neglected America, where old pick-up trucks grumbled down highways dotted with trailer parks and empty lots full of junk.

  ‘Look at this place,’ said Ross, taking a moment to study the view. ‘I feel like I’ve stepped back in time, not driven an hour and a half out of Washington.’

  Rachel had seen trailer parks in the movies before, but she had never actually been to one. Some of the plots were well tended and tidy, with the trailers themselves resembling small, shingle-fronted houses. Others were unkempt, the trailers more like the caravans from the rain-swept holidays of her childhood, their yards cluttered with rusting cars and discarded furniture. A dog – a mongrel with xylophone ribs and a foaming mouth – barked at them from the next lot, and Rachel was glad to see it was securely chained up. She thought of Madison Kopek with her shiny blond hair and her college degree – the amount of ambition it must have taken her to get out of here, it was no surprise she had managed to find her way into Julian Denver’s life.

  Pamela Kopek’s house was one of the larger properties. It was timber-fronted, with grilles at the windows, and rimmed by flower beds full of plants that had wilted in the heat.

  ‘Do you think we should have phoned ahead to say we were coming?’ said Rachel, waiting for someone to answer the door.

  ‘It was tough enough getting her address,’ said Ross. ‘We didn’t want to risk spooking her.’

  He knocked again, but there was no answer, apart from the furious barking of the dog.

  ‘She could be out at work,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Ross, and disappeared around the back of the trailer. Rachel didn’t much like being left alone here, and she looked around anxiously. She heard shouting coming from the back of the trailer, then jumped as the door rattled open. A tall, very thin woman in khaki Bermuda shorts and a vest top stood there squinting in the semi-dark. She was of indeterminate age – her hair was high-school blond, but her face was heavily lined. She looked as if she had just been woken up, and didn’t seem too pleased about it.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, looking at Rachel and then Ross.

  Ross stepped forward and extended his hand.

  ‘Very sorry to have disturbed you, Mrs Kopek,’ he said, his Midlands accent replaced by something more royal. ‘It’s just we’ve come here straight from London and we wondered if we could impose on you for just a few minutes.’

  Smooth, thought Rachel. Very smooth.

  The woman was evidently impressed. She raised her eyebrows. ‘London, you say? London, England?’

  Ross nodded. ‘And it is a rather private matter. We’ve come to talk to you about your daughter.’

  Pamela Kopek hesitated. ‘You knew Maddie?’

  ‘My brother-in-law did. Can we come in?’

  Pamela nodded and opened the door wider for them to step inside.

  The interior of the mobile home was nothing like a caravan. From the swiftest glance, Rachel could see there were bedrooms at the far end, and a large living space, with a kitchen area, small dining table and two cheap-looking sofas. Inexplicably, there were three televisions, all tuned to different channels, all with the sound off. Pamela cleared a washing basket from the table and gestured for them to sit down.

  ‘You cops?’

  ‘No,’ said Rachel. ‘But we are here to ask you a few questions about Madison’s accident.’

  ‘Lawyers, then? Some of them ambulance-chasers? ’Cos if you is, you can stop right now. Maddie’s gone, and that’s all there is to it. I don’t want to go stirring things up again.’

  ‘No, we’re not lawyers,’ said Rachel. ‘As I said, Madison was a friend of my brother-in-law’s. I just wanted to say how sorry we are to hear about what happened, Mrs Kopek.’

  Pamela Kopek nodded slowly. ‘I think I’m going to need a drink. And call me Pam, everyone does.’

  She reached behind her and pulled out a bottle, pouring some into a teacup, not offering any to her guests.

  ‘I’ve lost two kids in six months, you know that?’ she said, taking a drink and grimacing. ‘So don’t you start asking why all I want to do is sleep and drink.’

  Rachel and Ross exchanged a look.

  ‘Two kids?’

  The woman nodded. ‘My son Billy passed on six months ago. Things have never really gone my way, but the last few months have been more than a little bit shitty.’

  Rachel gave a sympathetic nod. ‘Have they caught the driver?’

  Pamela shook her head. ‘Not likely to now, are they?’

  ‘What actually happened?’ said Ross, interjecting. The news reports of the hit-and-run accident that had killed Madison hadn’t been detailed.

  ‘College had just finished, she’d graduated and she decided to stay back in town to go to some parties, maybe find a summer job. She was on her way home from a bar, stepped out into the road . . .’

  Pamela bowed her head as if she could no longer speak.

  ‘At least she graduated,’ she said finally, her lip trembling with emotion. ‘All she ever wanted to do was go to college, make something of herself. She got a full scholarship, you know. Got accepted into one of those fancy sorority houses. She was such a smart, pretty girl. So, your brother-in-law,’ she added, frowning. ‘Do I know him?’

  ‘His name was Julian Denver. Did Madison ever mention him?’

  Pamela shrugged. ‘No, but then me and Maddie weren’t so close. She didn’t talk to me about her friends, let alone boyfriends. I can’t really blame her. What did her ole mom ever do right? She was a clever girl and knew better than to come running to me for advice.’

  She paused to take a drink.

  ‘You know what? She never even told me she was pregnant.’

  Rachel tried not to show her surprise – in any case, Pam Kopek was staring at one of the silent TVs, a tear running down her face.

  ‘Had to hear it from the hospital, you believe that? I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked. I mean, she was a pretty girl, always had a lot of attention.’

  ‘Who was the father?’ asked Rachel, scarcely daring to breathe. ‘He must have been pretty devastated.’

  ‘I don’t know. She had lots of admirers, that was for sure. But I’ll guess we’ll never know who the daddy was.’

  Rachel took a moment to steady herself.

  ‘So Maddie didn’t have a steady boyfriend at the time she died?’

  The older woman shook her head, then looked across at Rachel, as if she had just made a connection.

  ‘Your brother-in-law, was he a good friend of Madison’s?’

  ‘No, they just worked together,’ said Rachel as smoothly as she could. ‘Besides, he’s married to my sister.’

  Pam Kopek let out a laugh. ‘Honey, I don’t know how it works over there in England, but out here? If they’re married or they’re single, it don’t make a whole heap of difference.’

  ‘You mean Maddie had been out with married men before?’

  Pamela looked at her wide-eyed, the effects of the alcohol kicking in.
/>   ‘Who knows? But if she took after her mama, she would have done. How do you think I ended up here? Kids’ daddy played away, so did I. Whole thing ended up such a mess.’

  She took another slug of bourbon, spilling a few droplets on her shorts, lost to a flood of memories.

  ‘It’s getting late. We’d better be going,’ said Rachel.

  ‘Won’t find any fancy hotels around here,’ said Pam, without even looking at them.

  ‘Maddie’s friends. I don’t suppose you have any contact details for them . . .’

  ‘Bunch of condolence letters some of them sent over there,’ she said, motioning lifelessly towards one of the televisions.

  Ross went over to where she was pointing. While he copied some details into his notebook, Pamela turned and looked at Rachel more directly, as if she suddenly resented the intrusion.

  ‘Why do you say you came here again? What is it your brother-in-law wanted?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Rachel, sad to leave the woman alone like this. ‘We just wanted to say we are so sorry for everything that’s happened.’

  It felt like a long way back to Washington, even if they did have a stay in the Four Seasons hotel to look forward to at the other end of it.

  Rachel concentrated at the wheel of the hire car, seeing nothing but the blackness of night and the occasional pinpricks of headlights coming towards her.

  ‘What am I going to tell her?’ she said eventually, as they motored east towards the capital. Despite the conflict between them, Diana was still going to ask questions when they got back to England. After all, she had paid for the flights and hotel reservations, which had both been sorted out overnight, so that Rachel and Ross had been on a plane only hours after telling Diana that they needed to go to America.

  ‘Why do you have to tell her anything?’ said Ross.

  Rachel glanced angrily across to the passenger seat. ‘Ross, Madison Kopek could have been pregnant with Julian’s child. How can I keep that little nugget from my sister? That’s the reason for his suicide right there. He was desperate for a baby. He couldn’t have one with his wife, his mistress gets pregnant, and when she dies in a car accident, that’s going to be enough to put anyone in a tail-spin.’