‘Please, Amy …’ PC Page’s voice is firm. ‘Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.’
‘No.’ This is insanity. When she doesn’t respond, I repeat it, louder this time, my voice panic stricken. ‘PC Page, no. This is a mistake. You know it is.’
But DI Lacey’s voice is firm. ‘Ms Reid, you need to come with us.’
PART TWO
Fiona
Chapter Seventeen
In the weeks since Matt disappeared, my life has been on hold. One day he was moving in, the next there was no trace of him. Instead, I find myself waiting, aware that the more time passes, the more unlikely it is that he’ll be found alive.
As I contemplate life without Matt, sadness fills me. Then anger, at the universe, for giving me a glimpse of something magical, before taking it away. What the hell was the fucking point? Why couldn’t I have just carried on as I was, my life undisrupted? Why deliberately screw things up for me, yet again?
Nothing has ever been easy. From starting out without a penny to my name, hard work and determination have got me where I am today. In ten years, my entire life has changed beyond recognition. Not just my clothes – the real deal instead of cheap and make do – but my flat in Regency Square, with its elegant proportions and sea view. But in building a successful career, the greatest reward has been the credibility I’d for so long been seeking. Instead of being dismissed as I was in the past, I have a voice now. People listen to me.
Grabbing the mirror out of my bag, I check my make-up and add a sweep of the same red lipstick I’ve always worn, then pick up the pile of paperwork on my desk. On top is a file, entitled Lucinda Mills. It’s a high-profile, high-stakes divorce case, where she left him but still wants to take him for everything he has. With whisperings of domestic abuse that he obviously denies, it isn’t straightforward. A long afternoon lies ahead. Taking a deep breath, I get up. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.
*
It’s a gruelling three hours later that I come out of the meeting. Back in my office, I ask my assistant to hold my calls, then slip off my shoes and walk over to the window. In the street below, life goes on as it always does, regardless, as I think of Matt’s unresolved disappearance.
At my desk, I check my emails, then sit back, thinking of how many times I’ve sat here, exactly like this, checking for missed calls on my phone, waiting to hear from Matt. Hating feeling so powerless, but telling myself that until he was free of Amy’s clutches, this was how it had to be. I knew he loved me; that I had a choice. I could either leave him or let things run their course between him and Amy. I hadn’t let myself dwell on it, until that morning came when I absolutely knew something was wrong.
*
When Matt and I first met three months ago, I’d no idea he was living with anyone. I was in a Brighton bar just off the seafront, catching up on case notes over a gin and tonic, when I noticed him. He was good looking, but what impressed me more was his air of confidence as he walked in. He was with a man, who I assumed was a client. The body language gave them away. Every so often, I became aware of his eyes glancing towards me.
An hour later, after the client left, he came over. ‘You look like you could do with a break.’ He nodded towards my laptop.
‘You know how it is. New job …’ I decided to show off. ‘I’m a partner with Hollis and James. And it’s a man’s world out there.’ Then I paused, because that was unfair. ‘Actually, they’re not too bad in that respect.’
Vague amusement registered in his eyes. ‘Can I get you another drink?’
I hesitated, my eyes flickering to his left hand, noting an absence of a wedding ring, then at my almost empty glass. ‘Why not?’
While he went to the bar, I finished what I was writing, then put my laptop away just as he came back carrying two glasses. I remember him holding out his hand. ‘Matthew Roche.’
‘Fiona.’ He’d need to do more than buy me a drink if he wanted to know any more about me.
His eyes were steady as he took my hand in his and I’d felt electricity spark. Racking my brains, I tried to think if we’d met before. As we talked, it became evident how eerily similar we were. Both of us were ambitious, wanting to create a comfortable life, but we’d both known adversity and broken away from unsupportive families. Matt had hinted at his, but about mine, I’d remained silent.
‘So, Matthew Roche. Are you married?’
‘No.’ But he said it too quickly. ‘And it’s Matt, by the way.’
‘Single? Attached?’ I watched his demeanour change, as he seemed to close up.
Then he sighed. ‘It’s complicated.’
Folding my arms, I sat back. ‘Right.’ Then I got up. ‘Thanks for the drink. But I don’t do complicated, I’m afraid.’ It was one of my rules. Single men only. Life was too short, time too stretched, for anything else.
‘Please don’t go.’ His eyes blazed into mine. ‘Hear me out. I want …’ He sighed. ‘I really want to talk to you.’
I knew I should be walking away, but something struck a chord with me and pulled me back towards him. There was an honesty in his gaze, my gut instinct telling me Matt wasn’t a selfish, conniving man – over the years, I’d met enough of them.
‘OK.’ Slowly, I sat down again. ‘Tell me.’
So he did, about the woman he was involved with, who he was marrying in three months. How he was only beginning to realise he’d made a mistake.
I still couldn’t be sure he wasn’t spinning me a line. ‘What are you going to do?’
He looked miserable. ‘I have to tell her.’ He hesitated again. ‘But it’s not that simple. She has problems.’
‘You still can’t pretend.’ I was shocked. ‘You can’t marry someone just because you’re worried about them. Unless you love her … then of course, that’s completely different. And it means there’s no point in us having this conversation. But it sounds as though she needs professional help.’
But he was already shaking his head. ‘I don’t usually talk about it, but she’s unstable. You wouldn’t think it was possible if you met her, and I know it sounds extreme, but I’m really worried she’ll try to kill herself.’ He sighed. ‘I really thought I did love her. But things have changed between us. If we argue …’ He broke off.
‘What?’ I was insistent. If he wanted me to hang around, I needed to know everything.
‘She does need help. She can get really fucking angry. I mean, smashing-things-screaming kind of angry. And the trouble is, if I told anyone, they wouldn’t believe me. They think she’s gentle, quiet Amy who’s had it tough since her bastard of a husband left her.’ I remember his hollow laugh. ‘Her ex was one smart guy to get away from her, believe me.’
‘And I should believe you because?’ Only half-teasing, I looked him in the eye.
‘If you don’t, this is a waste of time.’ His voice was abrupt as putting his drink down, he stood up.
‘Hey, I wasn’t entirely serious. I’m a divorce lawyer. Believe me, I’ve heard everything.’ I also knew better than most people that you can’t judge anyone based on appearance. But I was curious about this Amy. I’d grown up around here. I might have known her. ‘What’s her family name?’
‘Reid. She has a daughter, Jess. Nice kid. Really nice – another thing that makes this so difficult.’
I didn’t know any Amy Reids. He clearly wasn’t faking how badly he felt. It was coming off him in waves. But I knew too that you can’t build a life on something that doesn’t exist. And I found myself liking him. The way he had strength, yet compassion. That night in the bar, as I walked away, I knew that whoever Amy was, this man deserved so much more.
*
For some reason, I wasn’t altogether surprised when I saw him again – in my office. ‘Mr Roche.’ I was overly polite as he walked in. ‘I had a feeling it was going to be you.’
‘I hope you don’t mind. I thought that as you were a lawyer, you might be able to shed some light on something – in a legal capacity,
obviously.’ Even though he was hedging, he clearly knew what he wanted to talk about.
I watched his face. ‘I can try. You do know I’m a divorce lawyer?’
As he shook his head, I wasn’t sure if it was an act or not. ‘You did tell me. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten. I’m an idiot. Look, I won’t worry you with it.’
But I was curious. ‘You might as well ask me, I might be able to point you in the right direction.’
‘This is strictly in confidence …’ He hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t want Amy to find out I’ve come to see you, but it’s her house. She refuses to discuss selling it. She always says she needs the garden for her work. But it’s made me think. If there is a reason she can’t sell it, would you have any idea how I could find out?’
‘It doesn’t sound very likely. If the house is in her name, it’s up to her what she does with it.’ It’s an impossible question to answer. ‘Where does she live?’
‘Steyning. It’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere and I’m trying to persuade her we should move somewhere with a little more life around us.’
As he spoke, an unwanted memory flashed into my head, of somewhere else in Steyning, up a narrow lane that snaked into the middle of the Downs. I pushed it from my mind.
‘I know Steyning quite well. But as to why Amy can’t sell … I couldn’t comment. She’s the person you need to talk to about this.’
When he said no more about the house, I wrote it off as a convenient excuse to come and see me. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be the last time I saw him. The next time we bumped into each other, we went for a coffee. The time after that, coffee turned into dinner, when Matt told me about how he and Amy met. He admitted that he’d thought quite quickly she was the one. It was why he proposed so early in their relationship. They valued the same things, seemed to share a vision of what they wanted from life. He knew she loved him, that she wouldn’t betray him. He’d even given her his grandmother’s engagement ring.
Were they happy, I asked him. When he looked evasive, I added, Your grandparents? When I told him that a ring conveys the joy or sorrow of its previous wearer, a shadow crossed his face. Clearly they hadn’t been. If you believe these things, as far as his marriage went, he’d already signed its death warrant.
All the time I listened to him talking about her, the penny had yet to drop that I’d once known Amy. I found out one evening, when he went to the bar to order drinks. At the table, I was deep in thought when my phone buzzed. But when I glanced at it, I’d realised it wasn’t coming from my phone. It was Matt’s.
When the face flashed up, shock washed over me. Recognising the woman, I felt the past come flooding back. I had never imagined she was this Amy. We’d been close at one time, until the end of one summer, when she’d suddenly dropped me without warning. Since, I’ve seen her only once. As a lawyer, I’d come across many unbelievable coincidences, but this one was too much – even for me. In an instant, everything fell into place. The behaviour Matt had described; that her ex-husband had left her. I had a feeling I knew where their house was, too. Even the thought of it fills me with dread. But what I didn’t know was how much Matt knew – about her past.
Once I’d discovered who she was, I became obsessively curious, unable to understand how someone like him was living with a woman like her. As our relationship developed, I was still wary, but his compassionate side drew me in. Then the day came when he told me how he felt. ‘You and me,’ he whispered. ‘Isn’t this how it should be?’ His eyes were earnest as he looked at me. ‘Until I met you, I didn’t know.’ Coming closer, his arms had gone around me and my deep frozen heart had started to thaw. To meet a man who wasn’t like the others, a man I liked, who wanted me, meant that I broke my own rules. Something told me Matt was worth waiting for.
But it hasn’t been at all easy. So many times he mentioned his reluctance to leave her, how he dreaded what state he’d find her in when he got home. He’d already told me how often he’d gone home to find her after a few drinks, lost in her own world, loud music blaring across the garden. He needed me to trust him, be patient. For a while, I was, but as more time passed, my patience wore thin. I’d listened to enough of his endless excuses about poor frigging Amy. So much so that I reached the point of no return.
After calling Matt and asking him to meet me after work, I knew exactly what I had to say. In the same bar off Brighton seafront where we always met, I waited for him, filled with sadness at the thought of what I had to say to him. When he came in, I watched his eyes light up as he walked towards me. A light that left as I started talking. ‘I can’t do this any more, Matt. You and me …’ I shook my head, not wanting to do this but knowing for my sanity that I had to. ‘I think we’ve come to the end of the road.’
In silence, he reached across the table, taking my hands in his. ‘This isn’t what I want.’
The look in his eyes was hollow, empty. ‘But I can imagine how you feel. It must be impossible for you.’
I’d hoped to shock him into action, but any hope I had of him seeing sense evaporated into the ether. There was no point in dragging it out. Getting up, I kissed him on the cheek, my heart aching as I walked away. But underneath, there was a much deeper sense of injustice that burned. Not for the first time, Amy had one over on me.
For a couple of weeks, I avoided Matt, before he called me again, asking if we could meet. Against my better judgement, I agreed. This time, he told me, he wasn’t spinning me a line. He knew now: he wanted to be with me.
The night he disappeared, he’d come to my flat. Fobbing Amy off with a story of a non-existent client, he told me he’d reached the end of his tether.
‘You were right – about what you said at the beginning.’ As I looked at him quizzically, he went on. ‘You said you can’t marry someone because you’re worried about them. There has to be love.’ He hesitated again. ‘It isn’t Amy I love. It’s you. I think I always have, right from when I first met you.’
As he spoke, I felt victorious. Walking over, I put my arms around him, claiming my prize. ‘I love you, too. So what are you going to do?’ But already, I knew the answer.
He kissed me, a drawn out kiss that went on and on, until he gently pulled away. ‘I’ll tell her when I get home.’ He kissed me again, more urgently. ‘She won’t like it, but it can’t be helped.’ His mouth was on my neck, as he spoke into my hair. ‘I’ll pack first thing and bring everything over in the morning, before work.’
Ever practical, I pulled away, then went to one of the kitchen drawers, rummaging around until I found what I was looking for, holding it out as I walked towards him. ‘I’m out early tomorrow. And if you’re moving in, you’d better have a key.’
Something flickered in his eyes as he took it from me. ‘Maybe tomorrow night we can go out and celebrate!’ When I didn’t reply, he added more soberly, ‘It’s a new beginning, Fiona. It’s going to be good.’
As I started to let myself believe that this was really happening, I felt a weight begin to lift. He stayed a couple of hours longer, talking about the future, making plans, only falling silent as our bodies became entwined.
When the time came for him to leave, I kissed him goodbye at the bedroom door.
‘I’ll call you in the morning, when I’m on my way.’ His dark eyes were thoughtful as he lingered a moment.
Standing there, I watched him go downstairs, knowing that leaving Amy wasn’t going to be easy for him, yet filled with a sense of anticipation. I still have an image of him, his hair dishevelled, his shirt button undone, his smile as he turned to look at me before he went outside, thinking about him going back to sad, mad Amy one more time. I couldn’t have known it was the last time I’d ever see him.
1996
It takes time for seeds to be nurtured. Blue sky days during which an idea takes root, form, definition, fed with your hatred. The most shocking of thoughts becomes less so, the more you think about it.
It’s where it started, isn’t it? With t
houghts. Such a simple act, you told yourself. People did far worse. This was nothing. An anti-love spell to break two people up, it wasn’t much more than a practical joke. Each time you thought about it, the idea grew stronger. What harm was there in a benign spell? The world’s a battlefield, remember?
But you had no right to change the course of nature; to intervene in the purest of love. You didn’t stop to think about how what you were doing might become complicated; that there was always going to be an explosion of consequences. You can’t interfere with destiny and expect to get away with it. No question, one day, it would catch up with you.
Fiona
Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, as I left for work early, to prepare for a court case, I was on alert for Matt’s call telling me he was on his way. By late morning, when I still hadn’t heard from him, I called his phone, leaving a voicemail, before trying his office. When they told me he hadn’t been in, I was filled with apprehension. I couldn’t believe he’d had a change of heart – not when he’d seemed so decisive. But when I called him several more times, on each occasion it went to voicemail.
Another uneasy night passed, as I waited to hear from Matt, unable to sleep. Imagined all hell had broken loose when he told Amy, her talons digging into him, drawing blood as she refused to let go of him. At work, I tried to concentrate. But I couldn’t get it out of my head that something had happened to him. The following morning, in between calls and client letters, I thought about our last conversation. He’d been distracted, talking about how Amy’s moods were all over the place; how he was worried about what she’d do when he told her – not just to herself, but to him.
As I considered calling the police, I couldn’t rule out him changing his mind about us, deciding that when it came to it, he couldn’t leave Amy. If he was cosily back at home with her, I was past caring if the police turned up and embarrassed him. But if he genuinely was missing, I needed to be sure the police knew.
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 12