Deep Blue Sea by Tasmina Perry Page A

completely unconcerned with anything except getting the story,’ added Rachel.
    ‘Which is why I am here talking to you,’ replied Diana. She had injected obvious ice into her voice, wanting her sister to be under no illusions that she was enjoying this reunion. ‘All I am asking is for you to do what you do so well. I want you to stop at nothing – nothing – until you find out the truth about Julian.’
    ‘But I’ve changed,’ said Rachel. She noticed that her hand had clenched into a fist on the table. ‘I’ve changed and that’s why I can’t help you. Not in the way you want.’ Her voice softened. ‘This is my home now, and this is who I am. I deal with wetsuits, boats and the sea, and I spend my days making people happy, as far as I can. That selfish, ruthless reporter is dead, Di. I want to help you, but if you want to investigate Julian’s death, then talk to the police. Hire a private detective. I can give you names. I’ll support you all the way, and if you need a break from England, then you can come and stay with me. This place heals people. There are worse things you can do than come to Thailand for a little while.’
    ‘I don’t want to stay a minute longer with you than I have to.’ Diana disliked the feelings that were coursing through her. Hatred, anger, frustration. This was her sister and she loved her. Had loved her until Rachel had betrayed her. It had been the betrayal, almost as much as her exposé of Julian, that Diana had never been able to get over, that had made her feelings run so deep.
    ‘You owe me, Rachel,’ she said fiercely. ‘You almost destroyed my marriage, and now I’m asking for something to make up for that.’
    It was a minute before either of them spoke. The waiter came with two sweet-smelling curries and, detecting an atmosphere between the sisters, hurried away again.
    ‘Why do you think he did it?’ said Rachel.
    Diana inhaled the scent of her curry, picking out the lemon grass and coconut, and somehow it soothed her like a balm.
    ‘I don’t know. I genuinely haven’t got a clue,’ she replied more calmly.
    ‘But were there problems? In Julian’s life, I mean?’
    Diana lifted an eyebrow. ‘You mean in our marriage, don’t you? You’d love me to say yes, wouldn’t you?’
    ‘Not at all. Quite the opposite.’
    ‘You think our marriage had problems. And yes, your newspaper story exposed the fact that it did. But we worked on it, we mended it. We were happy, I think.’
    ‘What about work?’
    ‘Everything seemed fine. No major upheavals in the company, anyway. I’d have heard.’
    Rachel nodded, her face serious. Diana knew that look; her sister was thinking, turning over the possibilities – and she was fairly sure that Rachel’s mind was already racing ahead. She was smart like that. Rachel never took anything at face value; she saw conspiracy everywhere, especially after she had begun working in Fleet Street. She always said there were so many stories of corruption and manipulation going on behind the scenes, stories that for legal or political reasons they couldn’t print, that the only logical response was to assume everything was dirty.
    ‘You knew Julian,’ said Diana. ‘You know he wouldn’t do something like this.’
    ‘I haven’t known him for a long time.’
    ‘But even if he was suicidal, wouldn’t he have given a hint?’ said Diana, refusing to give up. ‘He was talking about climbing Everest two hours beforehand. And why not leave a note or something?’
    ‘Not everyone who commits suicide leaves a note.’
    ‘Not many. You know that.’ She could feel her voice faltering. If she couldn’t persuade her sister to help her, even after she had layered on the guilt, reminded her how much she owed her, then what hope did she have of finding out the truth? Because Rachel was the only person she trusted to do it. She was the only one she had ever trusted. Rachel had been her rock. When their father had left them, she had