In Denial Read online

  ‘She did.’

  ‘She thought I had murdered them?’

  ‘Yes. When you walked into the hotel last night she was beside herself with worry. At one point she came very close to calling the police.’

  ‘But -’

  ‘Of course, she’d read about you being released without charge, so what was the point? She told me that after a while there was something about the way you spoke to her, your manner, that made her begin to look at you differently. That’s when she became worried because of what you might do rather than what you might have done.’

  ‘So when did she first phone you?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘But I’d only been there a couple of hours.’

  ‘She rang at just after eleven-thirty. She told me you were there, although I had to be reminded who you were, and she said you were not what she would have expected. She described you as being … I think I used the word depressed earlier but it was more than that. She said she’d never seen anyone looking so sad. Yes, sad was the word she used. Sad.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘Me? Doris was one of the first people I met when I came here. I’d expected to be rejected. The Bishop had warned me, but Doris knocked on my door the very first night. She even brought me a bottle of sherry as a welcoming present, and most importantly she smiled. That smile resulted in most of the bottle of sherry being consumed straight away. We became very close friends very quickly, so when I received the phone call from her last night I knew I wasn’t dealing with some local crank - and there are quite a few around, especially in these parts. I took what she said seriously. I advised her to wait until this morning and she was to ring me if there was anything …’

  ‘It was the bag, wasn’t it?’

  ‘She mentioned that she’d seen you put your overnight bag into your car early this morning and try to tell her you’d be there for another two nights. Paying her in cash for all three nights just added to her suspicions.’

  ‘I told her last night that she was astute. I should have listened to my own words.’

  ‘I’m pleased you didn’t.’

  ‘I wish -’

  ‘Don’t say it.’

  Adam looked intently and disbelievingly at Gabrielle. ‘You’re an incredible young woman, you know, and I hope your parish appreciate what was sent to them.’

  ‘Some do but there are still those, even after three years, who would prefer to see me pack my bags and leave.’

  ‘They must be mad.’

  ‘And as entitled to their opinion as anybody else.’

  Adam shook his head. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

  ‘It’s not me I want people to believe in.’

  Holding up his hand, Adam said, ‘Okay, stop right there. Please, please, don’t go down that avenue. If you do I might just go back on my word.’

  Gabrielle lowered her head. ‘It’s what I do.’

  ‘Well, if you’ve come to tell me that God would be annoyed but he would forgive me, that it’s still a sin to take your own life …’

  ‘I didn’t come to tell you any of those things.’

  Adam finished his coffee. It was cold. ‘Another?’ he asked.

  ‘No, not for me, but you go ahead.’

  ‘No, not for me either.’ He looked at his watch.

  It was nearly one o’clock.

  * * *

  The rain was coming down in sheets and it looked as though it was set for the day. There were only three other people in the bar - a young family with a baby in a pushchair. Anne was behind the bar polishing glasses wondering why she had bothered to open. Seeing Gabrielle Brooks come in with a man who was probably in his late thirties, but who was also quite tall and definitely handsome, had caught her interest.

  She had watched them closely.

  The way they were behaving didn’t suggest there was anything in it, but you never knew. Perhaps it was because Gabrielle was wearing her collar. When she heard three years ago that the new minister for the west of the loch was a woman, she immediately become a feminist, arguing in Gabrielle’s favour with anyone who criticised the decision. When she met Gabrielle for the first time, though, she had wondered how somebody like her could hold down such an important job. She was young, very pretty, and had no experience of life. How was she going to cope with the more intransigent members of the local community? But cope she did and, with the odd exception, she built herself a tremendous reputation. Her sermons were worth listening to. Anne had travelled to Luss just for the experience and had left having been given quite a lot of food for thought.

  So who was this stranger she was with? Looks apart, he seemed very solemn and they were obviously having a very deep conversation. They were sitting a few feet apart and there hadn’t been that much touching, not of that sort anyway. Maybe he was a relative. Maybe he was an uncle who had come from a distance away to see his beautiful ordained niece.

  Anne picked up another glass and carried on with her observation. You never know, she might see or even hear something that could be passed on at an appropriate moment.

  * * *

  Gabrielle fiddled with a sugar cube wrapper, not sure what she should say next.

  She was positive she had done the right thing.

  She had listened to Doris and acted on an impulse. Adam Harrison was not what she’d expected. She thought he was somewhere around thirty-five, maybe a little older. She couldn’t remember the ages of the two children she’d seen in the National papers, twelve or thirteen maybe. She did remember how striking his wife was - Lucinda, that was her name. She looked as though she had some foreign blood in her, so did the children. Should she ask about Lucinda? No, it was too early.

  So where did she go from here?

  She normally took most Mondays off, although she did have the evening service at seven, but she was even beginning to question the need for that because so few turned up.

  Yes, probably thirty-five. A handsome man with a kind face whose eyes seemed to be smiling all the time, but the rest of him told her that this was the last thing he was doing. He’d virtually admitted that had she not found him he had fully intended taking his own life. She had counselled some of her parishioners who turned to her because they were depressed but she had never dealt with somebody who was threatening suicide let alone on the point of committing it. Perhaps she should not have worn her clerical collar: perhaps it would have been better if he didn’t know what she was. No, maybe wearing the collar had helped. Maybe if she hadn’t worn it he would have treated her differently.

  Oh, she didn’t really know.

  She wanted him to talk. She wanted him to understand that although losing his family was absolutely horrendous, there was always a reason for going on.

  * * *

  ‘Look, I can’t say I’m grateful for what you did, and I’m sure you did it with every good intention, but -’

  ‘Adam, I did what I did because your life was in danger. I know we’re complete strangers but after what Doris told me I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I might have lost you on the way here, I might have changed my mind, you could have told me to get lost and mind my own business, but you didn’t. Because you didn’t I believe there is a way out of this. I really believe that we can -’

  ‘We? Is that you and me or are you going to recommend some dispassionate psychiatrist who gets paid by the hour?’

  ‘There’s a fine line between getting personally involved and offering advice and guidance -’

  ‘… but not of the spiritual variety?’

  ‘Not if you don’t want it.’ She noticed that Anne was paying them a lot of attention, looking away each time Gabrielle caught her eye. ‘If you want to talk some more, I’m more than willing to listen.’

  ‘I’m not sure you’ll want to hear what I might have to say.’

  ‘That’s for me to decide but can I suggest we go somewhere else?’ She indicated Anne with her eyes. ‘Somewhere a little more private.’
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  ‘Haven’t you got meetings and things to attend? I don’t really know what priests do all day.’

  Gabrielle smiled. ‘Oh, we’re kept pretty busy, but Monday is my day of rest, until this evening. So, if you want to talk some more we’ve got the rest of the day.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘That depends on you.’

  ‘All right,’ Adam said, although Gabrielle was sure he was thinking the opposite, ‘but I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.’

  ‘I haven’t the faintest idea. But before we do any more talking I want to get rid of this collar and what goes with it. I have a feeling you see it as an obstruction.’

  They left The Oak Tree and Anne’s eyes followed them all the way.

  As soon as they were out of sight she picked up the phone.

  Chapter Five

  An hour later they were sitting in Adam’s Lexus watching the rain as it spattered into the Loch. Once she had changed, Gabrielle left her car at the vicarage and drove north with Adam towards a small secluded car park she often used when she wanted to think.

  She knew exactly what she was doing.

  The man she was with was a stranger whom she had stopped, albeit temporarily, from committing suicide. Not the usual reasons for being parked here, but for Gabrielle it was all so logical. She realised that the Bishop and her father would both have pink fits if they knew.

  Other than Gabrielle giving Adam directions, they had spoken very little. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to talk any further. She’d already succeeded in getting him to reveal more than he felt happy with. He certainly wasn’t so sure he wanted to tell her anything else. What had happened could not be undone and she was definitely not going to be able to introduce anything new. So why had he agreed to go with her? He knew it was crazy but he felt a certain responsibility towards her. She had risked an awful lot by following him and by being with him now.

  He didn’t want to let her down.

  Seeing the most unusual member of the clergy he’d ever met walk into the vicarage, and a young, very attractive woman wearing jeans, walking shoes and a light blue anorak walk out, he’d wondered again about his reasons. She had climbed into his car as though they’d known each other for ages; her confidence was amazing and just a little worrying.

  ‘I come here to think,’ she told him once they had parked. The rain-dappled water was lapping against the stony shore only yards away.

  ‘What about?’

  ‘Everything and nothing. I look across the loch on a nice day and I find inspiration, I suppose. It’s difficult trying to be original when the congregation is small and doesn’t change from one Sunday to another. I find coming here helps.’

  ‘Why did you join the priesthood?’

  She hesitated. ‘It’s something I’d always wanted to do. I remember as a young girl wishing time away so that I could do what I’m doing now. I used to drag my parents into every chapel, every church and every cathedral wherever we went. I just found the ambience so powerful. I would have sat in the pews for hours if my mother and father hadn’t prised me away. Now I’m here, I find it so fulfilling. I did want to be a nun but the thought scared my father so much I compromised and chose to become a common or garden vicar.’

  ‘Not so common.’

  After a few seconds silence, Gabrielle asked: ‘So, I must now ask you a question you asked me a few hours ago. Why are we here?’

  Adam leaned against the steering wheel, peering at the water. It was grey and uninviting. ‘It’s a long story and I don’t know why I’m even contemplating telling it to you.’

  Gabrielle reached for her shoulder bag. ‘I took the liberty of throwing some sandwiches together and there’re a couple of small bottles of water. It’ll keep us going for as long as we want.’

  Adam turned towards her. ‘Why are you doing this? Why are you bothering?’

  ‘I asked myself that when I was following you, when I found you by the loch, when we were having coffee, when I was changing and then when I found myself making the sandwiches. I -’

  ‘And the answer?’

  Gabrielle leant back against the headrest. ‘I don’t know what the answer is. A feeling? A sixth sense? I don’t know.’ She paused. ‘If I were being honest I suppose it’s because I want to know -’

  ‘… why a man like me hasn’t got the resilience to overcome the despair caused by the loss of his family and see even now that there is hope?’

  ‘Something like that. But perhaps it’s -’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘If you’ve got time to tell it, I’ve certainly got the time to listen.’

  ‘I’ll try to tell you what I can remember but it was a long time ago. Also I can only tell you my side of it. There must have been a lot going on behind the scenes that I knew nothing about. I wish now that I’d been able to be a fly on the wall, that I could have seen and heard what was going on around me …

  * * *

  Adam gazed through the windscreen and let his mind drift back over thirty years.

  ‘I suppose my first recollection of Hong Kong was the Star ferry crossing between Hong Kong Island and Kowloon. The hustle and bustle, the crowds, the smells, seeing hens and other livestock in wicker baskets, their owners with wide brimmed wicker hats on their heads, wearing what I thought were black pyjamas. Then there were the weather-beaten faces, brown teeth and constant chatter. I remember as a three-year old sitting next to my mother and trying to take in everything that was going on around me: it was the real world and utterly mesmerising. I had no idea I was any different. I didn’t know these fascinating people believed I belonged to another world over ten thousand miles away. We lived on Hong Kong Island. My father worked on both the Island and in Kowloon. That was when his business hadn’t yet taken him away to places I didn’t even know existed. All I did know then was that there were times when he was home almost every night and then he would be away for what seemed like forever. When I was a little older I remember sitting at the top of the stairs when my father was away, listening to my mother crying. There were times when she cried night after night. I thought I ought to be crying as well but I never did. I didn’t know what there was to cry about. Other than knowing that my mother was a very pretty woman and always smelt as though she was made of roses, I can’t really describe what she was like in those days, but having said that, for some strange reason Doris reminded me of my mother.’ Adam looked across the water and tried to make out the opposite shore. ‘My mother and my father, who was really a stranger to me, were killed in a plane crash just before I was five. It wasn’t until years later I was told what happened. In fact the immediate years after I became an orphan went by in a blur and to a great extent they remain a blur. Obviously I’m aware now of some of what happened, but so much transpired so quickly I just didn’t seem to be able to take any of it in.’

  He paused.

  Gabrielle said very softly, ‘Your early childhood was very different from mine. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to me or my family.’

  ‘I wish I could tell you everything,’ he said pensively, ‘but there was probably a lot more going on that I wouldn’t have known about then, and I suppose I’ll never know now. Some people I wouldn’t even have known, let alone could have guessed what they and my parents would have been doing and saying and thinking.’

  Chapter Six

  Hong Kong - 1973

  ‘Now, Adam, you must understand that you are going to live with us,’ Joseph Yong said as reassuringly as he could. His wife Christina was standing just behind him, and their own children, Patrick and Lucinda, were either side of their mother. ‘Your Mummy and Daddy asked if anything ever happened to them that I, I mean we, would look after you. You have a new family now. There are a few things to sort out with the authorities -’

  ‘Joseph,’ Christina scolded, ‘there’s no need for him to know about what the authorities have to do. All he needs to know is we will take care of him. He ha
s a home.’

  Joseph turned to look at his wife. ‘It’s not a question of what the authorities have to do, Chrissie. There are two sets of grandparents in England who just might want their grandson with them.’

  Christina looked down at Patrick. ‘Why don’t you and Lucinda take Adam and show him his room? Then you can take him round the house and let him see where everything else is.’

  * * *

  Christina Yong watched the three children disappear before she spoke again. ‘But I thought that was all sorted. Stuart even wrote in his will that we should have Adam if anything were to happen.’ She crossed over to the chair beside the glass veranda doors and sat down.

  ‘It’s not as simple as that. People normally leave money, possessions and property in their wills, not children. And anyway, Maggie didn’t leave a will, so other than what she said to us we don’t know whether it will be accepted that she was in agreement.’

  ‘But the child was born here. He’s only been to England once and that was just for a few weeks. He speaks Cantonese as well as our two do. He’s as much Hong Kongese as they are, as you are.’

  ‘You’re not including yourself?’ Joseph asked teasingly.