Belle shoved past the bent-double Harlan and ran to where her father stood. Her heart was nearly exploding out of her chest, she was so panicked. Harlan turned toward the pair of them, seeing Terry there holding Belle, who was white-faced with fear. Still clutching his balls, Harlan gave a teary-eyed smirk.

‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Nothing at all.’

Terry looked at Belle. ‘What happened, honey?’ he asked.

Belle shook her head, wondering what the hell would have occurred had her dad not come along. All she wanted was to get out, away from Harlan.

Then Harlan said it; the words that Terry would never forget.

‘What you gonna do about anything? I’m Harlan Stone, and what are you, Terry bloody Barton? You’re just the help.’

Terry disengaged Belle’s clinging arms and gave her a push toward the door.

‘Go down and wait for Beezer by the gate. I’ll tell him you’re there, OK?’ Then he turned back to Harlan. His eyes were flinty with rage. ‘We’re going to have a talk.’

61

When Nula was out of hospital, she bided her time until Milly and Harlan were out of the way before cornering her husband. ‘So what’s the truth then, Charlie?’ she demanded.

The woman from the government agency had never phoned her back. Probably thought she was a crank. Probably, she was right. Nula felt like her grip on things was loose, at best. She was shaky. Full of anxiety. Her chest was tight every day and her head ached. She hardly slept for fear of waking up one night with Harlan looming over her, knife in hand. Something wasn’t adding up about Harlan, something was off about the kid, and she was going to find out why.

‘About what?’ He looked startled.

Yeah, of course he did. Does he think I’ve found out about him fucking Jill Barton against her will? She hoped he was sweating over it, the arsehole. She hated him, but she was stuck; frightened. She didn’t want to lose the lifestyle she’d craved and was now so used to. And she couldn’t divorce Charlie Stone, not knowing all that she knew. She’d been inside the tent pissing out, and it was too late to think of doing the reverse. He’d kill her. Christ, if he knew all the stuff she’d been putting in her journals, about him and all his crooked goings-on, he’d wring her neck right now.

‘About Harlan. I contacted the adoption agency.’

‘You what?’

‘I contacted them and I asked to speak to that Mrs Bushell woman who sorted out all the paperwork, the one who came here with Harlan a couple of times when he was a kid. You remember her?’

‘Where’d you get the details from?’ he asked. Suddenly he looked mad.

‘In your bloody desk, Charlie,’ snapped Nula.

‘But I keep that locked.’