Not that it mattered either way. She would rather be alone than with a bully.
She was worried about Kat, though. Where was she? How could she have run away with that knife still in her? Or had she found somewhere to hide and died of her wound? Had she killed her?
Why were the police keeping her here? Would they take her off to Holloway Prison tonight if they thought she’d killed Kat?
Kat was hiding under a bush on Chislehurst Common. She had pulled the knife out of her stomach and the amount of blood that came out with it had terrified her. She was in pain, icy cold and lightheaded, which she assumed was due to the loss of blood.
Amelia had called the police, of course: Kat had heard the sirens as she went further down the lane to another turning, which led her back to the common. She had wanted to go to the summerhouse and get her coat, but she was afraid she would be caught there. If she didn’t get that coat, though, she would freeze to death, and when daylight came the blood on her jumper would immediately give her away.
Would the police have mounted a guard on the summerhouse?
She didn’t know the answer to that, but as she needed to lie down and to get her coat and handbag with her money in it, she had no choice but to chance it.
The pain when she crawled out from under the bush was excruciating, and she could feel the warmth of fresh blood coming from the wound. But she managed to get up and, pressing her hand against the cut, began the walk back to the summerhouse.
By the time she reached the overgrown path to the house she was staggering and knew she was close to collapse. It was so dark she had to grope her way along the path, brambles snatching at her and swinging into her face. She nearly fell several times as she made her way to the back garden and had to stop frequently to lean against the house. But finally she made it to the summerhouse, lay down on the daybed and pulled her coat and a blanket over her.
Every other time she’d come here it had been her sanctuary, a quiet place where she could escape real life. She would stay for a weekend and go home refreshed.
It didn’t feel like a sanctuary now, more like a prison, because she knew she couldn’t go anywhere else. By morning the police would be here looking for her.
She’d never been one for regrets, but this time she regretted bringing Amelia here. And for telling her all those lies.
Her father had always said, ‘You can lock up from a thief, but you can’t lock up from a liar.’ He’d warned that lying would get her into serious trouble.
She had never lived in the burned-out house. Her parents and sister hadn’t died in a fire. She hadn’t even lived in Chislehurst. She didn’t work for Harrods but at a newspaper shop in Acton.
Sometimes she could barely recall the truth because she’d grown so used to trotting out fiction. The truth was that she was Hilary Wentworth, and had grown up in Ealing as the middle one of five children. They were a normal family, hard-up because there were so many of them. Her father was a fitter for the Gas Board, while her mother stayed at home and kept house.
She was sent to Child Guidance when she was twelve because of her lies, but she even lied her way through that. She said her father interfered with her, and her mother knew but ignored it. That was the real reason she had been sent to foster parents in Chiswick: when her parents were investigated, they were so horrified by her lies that they said she had to be taken away for fear of corrupting her younger siblings.
She really did join the Girl Guides and went to the World Camp where she met the three girls, and what she’d told Amelia about what they’d done to her was true. But what she had kept to herself was that she’d told the other girls some whopping lies: she’d stayed at Windsor Castle often because her mother was a lady-in-waiting to the Queen. The Guide mistress had laughed when Rosie asked if this was true. It was common knowledge, she said, that Hilary lied as easily as she breathed.
That was another reason they had for attacking her.
When she got home to her foster parents, she told them what Carol, Rosie and Lucy had done to her, but she wasn’t believed. They thought she’d put the Immac cream on her hair to gain sympathy. As a result, by the end of the summer and more stories of bullying, they had lost patience and asked for her to be placed in another foster home.
She had always wanted to work at Harrods, but they turned her down at the interview. She had changed her name to Katherine Somerset when she moved into the bedsitter in Godolphin Road.
Hate continued to burn inside her, not for her parents and siblings, who didn’t want to see her again, or for the foster parents who had given up on her. But for the three girls who had humiliated her at the Guide camp. She plotted and schemed, watching them when she could, learning about their lives and families. She knew she would never rest until she got her revenge.
At first, she just wanted to find a way of publicly humiliating each one, but that proved difficult because she would need to show her hand. Then the idea to kill them came to her and she was filled with excitement, which made her lonely life easier to bear. It was thrilling monitoring their movements – the friends they visited, the men in their lives, their workplaces, even the stores they shopped in. She knew it all and loved lying in wait for them, never knowing if this would be the perfect opportunity for her to pounce. It made her feel important, like one of those women who worked for the French Resistance and blew up munitions’ trains.
Nothing in her life came close to the thrill of those glorious decisive moments when she knew this was the instant she’d waited for. She experienced a rush of pure joy at seeing each of those girls fall to the ground when she hit them with the pipe. She rolled them over to look at their faces and said their names. What a buzz it was to see the recognition and terror in their eyes. Then she thrust the knife into them.
She had loved to read in the press about the Chiswick Creeper. Journalists said the police were baffled and advised young women not to walk alone at night. There were reports of sightings of this exceptionally dangerous man as far afield as Surrey and Buckinghamshire. To know she was causing such terror and mayhem was far more rewarding than any lie she’d ever told. She even had visions of her fame lasting for ever, like Jack the Ripper’s.
Yet now as she lay shivering and in agony, feeling her strength slowly ebb away, she hoped she would die: the prospect of prison terrified her.
WPC Mortimer came into the interview room around midnight. ‘Someone from Shepherd’s Bush police station has arrived to take you home,’ she said. ‘This won’t be the end of it for you, I’m afraid. We have to find Miss Somerset, hopefully still alive and able to tell us her side of the story.’
Amelia felt sick with anxiety. Kat had told so many lies: how many more would she tell when she was found?
Her fears abated a little when she reached the reception area to find Sam waiting for her. ‘By all accounts you’ve had an exciting day,’ he said, as he led her to the car. ‘This afternoon I had a weird feeling something was wrong. I asked Graham, who was on duty at your house, to ring me and let me know you were back. When he didn’t, I was really worried.’
As they drove back to Shepherd’s Bush Amelia told him exactly what had happened. He listened without interrupting, and when she’d finished, he reached over and took her hand to squeeze it. ‘What a nightmare. Let’s hope they find her in the morning, and she confesses. My DI has arranged a search warrant for her room. We might find something useful there. Worst-case scenario is that she’s dead but you can claim self-defence. Hopefully she had never cleaned that lead pipe properly and the blood of her victims will still be on it.’
‘I’m scared she’s dead,’ Amelia said, and just the thought of what that meant made her burst into tears. She didn’t say she was afraid that if Kat was still alive she’d come and kill her.
‘Please don’t cry, at least not until we get to your place and I can hug you,’ he said. ‘If it’ll make you feel any better, the DI believed you totally. Of course I do, but you already knew that.’
‘I just can’t believe it’s come to this,’ she sobbed. ‘I wish I’d never found Lucy’s body – I would never have met Max then and Kat would’ve been just a girl living up the street that I said hello to.’
‘We all have times in our lives when we wish we could rewind to before some unpleasant incident and take a different turning without losing our temper, hurting someone or just being an idiot. I’ve had loads of those.’
‘But when I look back on the nasty things that happened, I can see I took the only road there was. I had to report Lucy’s body. When I interviewed the families of the dead girls it was with the intention of setting the record straight. If you remember, the gutter press implied Lucy worked in a strip club. I suppose I did get carried away with seeing myself as a private eye. But now I know that all three were cruel to Kat so maybe they had it coming to them.’
‘You don’t believe that. When they bullied Kat they were all just kids,’ Sam said, smiling at her. ‘You set out with the highest of intentions, and that will come out if you end up in court. But for now you’ve got to hold your nerve, tell the truth, and let’s hope Kat survives.’
They pulled up in front of Amelia’s house. She looked up at the dark windows of her room and shuddered.
‘I’ll come up with you,’ Sam said, clearly seeing how upset and nervous she was. ‘We’ll put the fire and lights on, draw the curtains and then you must go to bed. Everything will look better in the morning.’
He took her keys and went ahead up the stairs to put on the lights. She stood in the doorway watching him light the gas fire and draw the curtains. Her room soon looked as cosy as it always did. But she was still scared.
‘Come on now,’ he said gently. ‘Let me take your coat. Shall I make you a drink? Hot milk or cocoa?’
As he came close to take her coat she leaned into his chest and immediately his arms went around her. ‘I’m scared,’ she admitted. ‘This room was once a haven, but it doesn’t seem like that any more.’
‘Would you like me to stay with you? I know I’m on duty, but what the hell! Sleep in the chair, I mean. Just so you feel safe.’
She looked up at him and saw concern in his blue eyes. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll be fine,’ she said, though she wished he would stay.
He drew her closer to him and she lifted her face to his. All at once he was kissing her and suddenly her room felt safe, like home again.
‘We shouldn’t be doing this,’ he murmured, against her neck, ‘but I can’t help myself.’
‘Me too,’ she whispered back. ‘But under the circumstances we must stop. Go home, Sam. I want you, but for your job’s sake we have to wait until I’m in the clear.’
‘Are you always so sensible and controlled?’ he said, moving back a few inches so he could see her face, yet still holding her arms.
‘I don’t know. I’ve never been in a situation like this before,’ she admitted. Looking at his face made her feel weak at the knees. It wasn’t just his lovely eyes or his blond hair, it was his kindness, his interest in her, and the full mouth that was designed to be kissed. She wanted him more than any man she’d ever met. ‘Just go now, Sam. This can wait until the time is right.’
20
Amelia peeped through the crack in the curtains as she heard a car draw up outside. It was two a.m. and, as she had expected, the police guard’s shift had ended and this was his replacement.
She hadn’t been able to fall asleep: the events of the day were too disturbing. Regardless of what Kat had done, it was terrible to think of her lying somewhere in pain and the freezing cold. The kiss from Sam was disturbing too, though in a completely different way. Her head was telling her she shouldn’t get involved with another man until all the complications in her life had been resolved, but her heart was saying, ‘I want you now.’
She watched Sam get out of his patrol car to speak to another officer. She didn’t recognize him, but he had dark hair and looked young. Sam’s blond hair shone like a beacon under the streetlamp and, once again, she felt a fluttering sensation inside her.
She hadn’t thought to ask if she could go to work today, or if she’d be expected to go back to the police station for more questioning. She so much wanted to go into the office and tell Jack what had happened. Gruff and insensitive as he often was, and hungry for a story, he had a knack of putting things into perspective.
Sam glanced up at her window before he got into his car. She wanted to pull back the curtain and blow him a kiss, but the other officer might have seen.
She heated some milk on the stove and took it back to bed with her. Even if she couldn’t fall asleep, she could think about Sam and perhaps that would block thoughts of Kat.
Jack literally pounced on Amelia as she came through the office door. ‘My God, Amelia, you can’t be left alone for a minute without getting into mischief.’
‘Sorry!’ She frowned at him. ‘What mischief?’
He brandished a copy of the Daily Mirror and read the front page. ‘A young woman believed to be a journalist was questioned last night in connection with the Chiswick Creeper,’ he barked. ‘It’s obviously you, even if they don’t give your name.’
‘I didn’t think you’d have heard about that yet,’ she said. ‘Why call it mischief? It was a nightmare. And are you going to stand there yelling at me, or can we sit down with a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you what really happened?’
‘You’re getting a bit uppity for someone who sells ad space,’ he slung back at her, ‘but, yes, we can sit down.’
‘It might be a sensible plan for me to tell everyone what happened so they all get the true picture,’ Amelia said, looking around the office at the eager faces, whose owners were clearly burning to know the whole story.
‘A good plan,’ Jack said. ‘Go and make the coffee for everyone.’
If Amelia hadn’t been all cried out, she might have burst into tears. She’d expected he’d be kind and supportive, but instead he’d reverted to his bullying self.
Five minutes later everyone had pulled their chairs up to the front of the office. Amelia handed out the coffees, then related what had happened. There was a gasp from everyone when she told them about the knife and the pipe falling out of Kat’s bag, but a far louder one at the bit where she had stabbed Kat.
‘You need to understand I never suspected her before I found the knife and the pipe,’ she said. ‘We went to the market together on Saturday and it was lovely to be out and about again. When she suggested Chislehurst the following day, I was all for it. She was good company. It still seems unbelievable that everything could change in an instant and that I left her in the lane with a knife sticking out of her stomach.’ She pointed to the position of the knife on herself. ‘But I had to do it, or she would’ve stabbed me. When I got back from calling the ambulance, she was gone. Unless the police have found her since it got light this morning, she’s still out there somewhere, or dead.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Jack exclaimed. ‘That’s the kind of story I dream of having on my front page.’
Jack was so predictable, she almost laughed. ‘Never mind front-page stories. I think you should contact your friend at the police station and see if they’ve found her yet. If they have and she’s dead, they’re likely to come and arrest me,’ she reminded him.
She was pretty certain Sam would’ve rung her or come to the office if they had found Kat, but she wanted to get back at Jack.
She hadn’t noticed that Peanut was in the room. It was only when he got up to walk towards her that she saw him, and the concern on his face brought tears to her eyes.
‘You’re responsible for this.’ He looked scathingly at Jack. ‘You should never have encouraged Amelia to dig into this. Right from the start I had a bad feeling about it, and now our Amelia might be in extremely hot water.’
‘Our Amelia’ made her tears flow faster.
Peanut put his arms around her and addressed the room. ‘None of you are to tell anyone an
ything about Amelia,’ he warned them. ‘As you know, every newshound in town will come sniffing around. But not a word. With luck, Kat will survive, and after her trial, with Amelia’s permission, we can have a field day. But for now all mouths to remain buttoned.’ He looked pointedly at Jack who made a gesture of surrender with his hands.
‘Peanut’s right,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not proud of myself for pushing Amelia into the front line, but now we must protect her. I’d better get down the nick and see if I can find out anything.’
Although she was overcome with this show of solidarity for her, Amelia went to her desk and picked up the latest list of potential advertisers. She needed to get back to work and bring some normality into her life.
Behind her she heard the scraping of chairs on the floor as, one by one, everyone returned to their desks. No doubt before long they’d have questions to ask, but if they saw her working perhaps they would wait at least for tea breaks.
She was just checking through the businesses, deciding which ones were likely prospects to be talked into advertising with the paper again, when Peanut slunk up behind her. ‘I’ve been very worried about you, and it seems with justification. Promise me when this lot is all sorted you’ll never become so involved again.’
She patted his cheek affectionately. ‘I promise, and it’s lovely to hear you care enough to worry. I’m just hoping we hear Kat is alive and on her way to hospital.’
‘And what are you going to do about that thug of a boyfriend?’ His expression was now one of a concerned father.
‘I won’t be seeing him again. It’s over.’
Liar Page 22