by Dan Scottow
Charlie stood and walked to the open-plan kitchen at the opposite side of the room. He turned on the tap, grabbing a glass from the draining board. He filled the glass, knocked it back, filling it again. He returned to his seat slowly.
‘I’d like to remind you, Mr Carter, that lying to a police officer investigating a crime is an offence punishable by law. A very serious incident has occurred here. May I also remind you that an innocent girl has been permanently disfigured. If you know anything, you need to tell me.’
Charlie took another sip of water, stalling. Her eyes didn’t leave his face.
‘It’s my wife,’ he said finally.
‘Your wife?’
‘Yep. I think maybe… the perfume might have been meant for her.’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because of something that happened in her past. We suspect someone is targeting her.’
‘Okay, and your wife’s name is?’
The detective lifted her hand and tucked a lock of curly black hair behind her ear.
‘Beth. Her maiden name was Morton. But back then she was Kitty. Kitty Briscoe.’
43
Hot water spilled into the bathtub, mixing with scented oils, and the soothing fragrance of eucalyptus and rosemary filled Beth’s nostrils. She couldn’t stop thinking about her confrontation with Vicky in the office. Something had changed. She was being more threatening. More aggressive.
Beth left the bath to run, tying her robe around her, she made her way downstairs to refill her wine. She topped up her glass, placing the bottle back on the worktop. Turning to head back upstairs, she spun around at the last minute, grabbing it. She sipped, and the cool amber liquid flowed down her throat. As she drank, she tried to picture her life as it had been only a few weeks earlier.
How different everything was now. She would never have believed her life, which she had so meticulously crafted, could fall apart so quickly. It had all begun around about the same time that Vicky started at Greys. Those two things could not be coincidence.
She was dangerous. Beth was sure of it.
But why? What did any of this have to do with a girl who wouldn’t even have been born when Billy Noakes was murdered?
Beth took another sip, ambling into Peter’s room to retrieve his speakers. She searched under dirty laundry, old plates and general teenager junk. She found them beside the bed on the floor, hidden beneath some boxers which she hoped to God were clean. Returning to the bathroom, she opened the door as wide as it would go, propping it with a heavy ornament from the sideboard.
Flicking the speakers on, she paired her phone with them and turned the volume up as loud as it would go, placing them on the windowsill.
She scrolled through her music, searching for something appropriate, settling for a chilled moods playlist.
The first song was Debussy’s ‘Clare De Lune’, and Beth smiled to herself. It had always been one of her mother’s favourites.
Placing her glass on the floor beside her, she untied her robe, slipping it off her shoulders, letting it fall down. She tested the water with her hand, then placed one foot into the tub, then the other. She slowly lowered herself down with her back to the door, wincing as the hot, scented water stung her skin.
But it felt good.
The aromas swirled around her head with the steam, and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time in weeks. She clutched her glass, taking a large sip, then lay back into the tub.
The haunting melody blasted out, slightly tinny, but endlessly beautiful.
Vicky’s face flashed into her mind. Her frumpy clothes, her irritating smile.
Beth clenched her fist around the stem of the glass as the feelings consumed her.
She blinked it away, taking another gulp of wine.
A creak from the landing drew her attention. She peered awkwardly over her shoulder, through the vapour rising from the surface. She’d left Peter’s bedroom door open. It had caught in the breeze from an open window, blowing open further.
She slid back down into the water.
She wanted to wash the day away, the hotter the better.
Her phone buzzed from the floor beside the bath. She reached down, grabbing it, wiping her hand on a towel to read the message.
It was from Mikey.
Hey. Are you ghosting me?
Beth sat staring at the phone for a moment, considering her response.
No. Been busy.
Mikey’s reply came straight away.
Can I see you?
Beth didn’t want to lead him on. She’d behaved inappropriately. She hadn’t been in her right mind at the weekend, reeling from the shock of the dog, and Charlie walking out. She was drunk, and upset, and she had wanted to live someone else’s life for a moment.
She’d regretted it instantly.
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Why?
You know why.
I need to see you.
No.
Beth tossed her phone on top of her robe and sunk back down, closing her eyes. As she dipped her head right under the water, the muted sound of the music rippled in her ears, distorted and ghostly. She opened her eyes and they stung a little from the oils. She stared straight up to the skylight above her. It was dark outside, so all she could see was her own reflection staring back at her, naked and reclining. Her hair splayed out around her in the water like weeds in a lake. She exhaled, screwing her eyes tightly shut once more, wishing she could sink down further, beyond the base of the tub, away from this place. Away from this life. She exhaled the air from her lungs steadily, bubbles rising up above her head.
And then she remembered Daisy. Her pure, perfect little Daisy. And that was enough to will her to stay and fight.
She raised her head above the surface, pushing her hands up over her face and through her hair, pressing the excess water from it.
She drained the last of the wine, toying with the idea of opening another bottle but deciding against it. She had to work in the morning.
Her phone buzzed again.
‘Mikey. Please leave me alone,’ she whispered to the empty house.
The next song boomed from the speakers. A nineties trip-hop tune, which she remembered, but the name of which eluded her.
She and Charlie had danced to it in a club when they had first started dating. She smiled at the memory, wondering if she would ever dance with him again.
She sighed, reaching down to the floor to retrieve her phone. The message wasn’t from Mikey.
Her heart thumped as she opened it.
A picture filled her screen.
Despite the temperature of the bath, she shivered.
It was the front of her house, snapped from right outside.
She sat up, turning around to see behind her.
No movement through the steam. Nothing untoward. No dark figure lurking outside the door in the clouds of white.
The phone buzzed again in her hand. She glanced down, holding her breath.
A series of images filled her message inbox.
As she began to scroll through them, Beth felt panic spread over her.
She saw herself, a few minutes earlier, slipping the robe from her shoulders. Then in another, standing naked in the bathroom. She felt sick as she stared at a photo of herself testing the water with her hand.
All shot from inside the house. From the landing. She spun round again, staring out into the darkness. Trying to figure out the vantage point from which images had been snapped.
Someone had been near the top of the stairs, watching her.
The phone buzzed once more.
Another picture.
Beth naked, her head under the water, eyes screwed shut. Her hair splayed out around her, bubbles rising to the surface. Taken from above her. The bastard had been standing next to the bath.
It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been so damn terrifying.
She sprang up, grabbing her robe, covering hersel
f. She slipped it on quickly as she tiptoed out of the bathroom.
The hypnotic beat faded out, and another song began.
Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’ echoed around the house. Beth stopped the music from her phone.
It buzzed again.
Another picture. Beth sitting up in the bath, looking at her screen.
‘I’m calling the police!’ Beth screamed out into the darkness.
Her phone vibrated in her hand.
No you won’t.
‘I will!’ she screeched. ‘I’m dialling right now, so you better get out of my house! You hear me?’
She heard the front door clatter against the hall wall. She ran down the stairs. A blast of icy air against her hot flesh made her feel dizzy.
She rushed into the kitchen, grabbing a carving knife from the block on the counter. Holding it out in front of her, arm trembling, she edged forwards.
‘Hello?’ Beth shouted.
Silence.
She moved slowly towards the front of the house, standing at the perimeter, looking out into the drive. The security light was on. No movement. She shivered.
Her breath swirled in patterns, mixing with the steam rising from her hot, wet flesh. She stepped out, wincing, as the gravel dug into her bare feet. She hopped backwards onto the carpet.
Shutting herself in, she slid the chain in place.
But what if he’s still inside? she thought, turning her back to the wall, knife held out ahead. She did a quick scout of the ground floor. Satisfied all the rooms were empty, she made her way up the stairs. Daisy’s room first. All as it should be. Peter’s room was still empty. She stuck her head in. Just to be sure. She pushed her own bedroom door, and it creaked open.
An emerald-green scarf sat neatly folded in the middle of her bed. She recognised it immediately.
The last time she saw it, it had been bound in a knot around Zoe’s neck, under the floorboards in the barn.
44
Beth didn’t go to work the following day. She’d hardly slept. She sat in bed all night, clutching a knife to her chest. In the morning, she phoned her boss, claiming to have a migraine. Chloe wished her a speedy recovery, and the deed was done. Beth had called in sick when she wasn’t, for the first time in her life. But she felt this warranted it.
She hadn’t even showered today. Another first.
As she paced the kitchen, drinking an especially strong coffee, she heard tyres on gravel outside, and she held her breath.
Footsteps crunched across the drive.
She glanced towards the knife beside her on the counter. Picking it up, she tiptoed into the hall, edging her way towards the door.
A dark figure approached the glass. The sound of a key in the lock.
Beth stood silently, raising her weapon aloft, ready to swipe at her attacker. The door swung open and Beth took a step forward.
Charlie stood in the doorway. The blade clattered to the floor.
‘Charlie! What are you doing here?’
‘Jesus Christ, Beth! What’s going on? Are you okay?’
‘Not really. Why are you here?’
Charlie picked up the knife, pushing the door closed behind him. He placed a hand on Beth’s shoulder and guided her back down the hall into the kitchen.
‘Is there any more of that?’ Charlie nodded towards the coffee.
Beth poured him a cup, sliding it across the worktop.
‘I went to your office, they told me you were sick.’
‘Right.’
‘So what’s going on?’
Beth fished her mobile out of her dressing-gown pocket and unlocked it, presenting Charlie with the messages from the previous evening.
‘My God…’ Charlie whispered. He swiped the screen.
‘He was in here. With me. And I didn’t know. I’ve not slept at all. I’m so scared, Charlie.’
She looked at her husband. Her eyes were red-ringed, dark circles beneath them.
‘I know. I am too. Something happened at work.’
‘To you?’
‘Sort of… not really.’
Beth frowned. Charlie relayed the incident with the perfume. Her face contorted in an expression of horror as he reached the ending.
‘Charlie, that’s awful.’
‘It was meant for you.’
He handed Beth his phone, showing her the message he received. She passed it back without saying a word.
‘There’s more,’ Charlie mumbled.
Beth waited.
‘You’re not going to like it. At all.’
‘What?’
‘I had a visit from the police because I was the one who had given the girl the bottle. They asked me all sorts of questions. I tried to lie to them, Beth, I did, I swear. But she knew I wasn’t telling the truth… the way she looked at me. You should have seen it.’
Beth reached her hand out, gently stroking Charlie’s fingers on the counter.
‘They said they would probably find fingerprints. They thought I had something to do with it. I’m so sorry.’
Beth’s eyes narrowed.
‘Charlie, what did you do?’
The room was quiet.
‘I told them.’
‘Told them what?’
‘They were pressing me, threatening me. They said I could be arrested if I was lying. She knew, Beth.’
‘Charlie, please tell me you didn’t.’
There was a lengthy pause.
‘I told them who you are.’
Beth pulled her hand away. The sound of the morning news on the radio drifted away from her ears, and for a moment, all she could hear was the twittering of some sparrows from the garden, without a care in the world. She wished she could be a bird, and fly away into the distance. Her face felt hot, her heart pounded.
‘How could you do that to me?’
‘It was the police, Beth. You can’t expect me to lie to the police.’
‘Do you realise what you’ve done? My life is over. Everything I have fought so hard to build here, from scratch, it’s all ruined. Do you understand that? Our lives are over. Mine, yours, Peter’s and Daisy’s. There’s no coming back from this.’
She stood up and paced.
‘Beth, this is a good thing. The secret’s out now. You won’t have to pretend anymore.’
‘It wasn’t your secret to tell!’ Beth screamed at Charlie across the kitchen. ‘It was mine; you hear me. My secret!’
‘No more lying. No more pretending.’
‘And you think that’s a good thing, do you?’
‘Well–’
‘No, Charlie, its most definitely not. I’ve been through this many times. I’ve lived so many lives, I can’t even begin to tell you. It always ends the same way when people find out. Trust me.’
Charlie lowered his head.
‘I can’t believe you’ve done this to me … to us. Do you realise you’ve ruined everything, you stupid, stupid man!’
Charlie stood up, walking round the island to stand beside her. He reached his hand out towards her arm, but she slapped it away.
‘Why don’t we wait and see what happens. Maybe it won’t get out.’
Beth laughed.
‘Of course it will. People hate her. They despise Kitty Briscoe. They blame her for what happened to Billy Noakes as much as they blame Kieran Taylor. And they’re right. I am responsible. It was my fault. I took him. If I hadn’t… maybe Billy would be alive now, with a family of his own.’
Charlie grabbed Beth, she tried to force him away, but he pulled her close to him, hugging her head into his chest.
‘No, Beth. It wasn’t your fault. You were a little girl. You can’t have known.’
‘Can’t I? Really? Because I look at Daisy, I watch her, how she behaves, and I think she is definitely capable of making decisions. She knows right from wrong. So I must have done too. I was a year older than her! I would have known it was wrong to lure that poor little boy away from his mother.’
Beth sobbed uncontrollably. Charlie stroked her head.
‘He was two years old for Christ’s sake. A baby! I go over this every single day of my life. I think about it. It’s all such a blur. I barely remember it. Of course, I’ve read the stories so often that I feel like they are my truth, but I was seven. Can you really recall specific things that occurred when you were that young?’
Beth stopped rambling. She stood, hugging Charlie, letting him hug her. Crying into his shirt.
‘What if I’m a bad person, Charlie. What if there’s something evil in me? And I’ve passed it on to our kids somehow.’
‘You’re not a bad person, Beth. You’re… amazing. And look at those kids. They don’t have a bad bone in their bodies. So you can stop worrying about that. They are perfect, both of them.’
‘But–’
‘But nothing, Beth. You know it.’
They stood in the kitchen together. No words between them. Only love and support in an endless void of nothing. Charlie held his wife, and she let him.
With the sound of Beth’s sobs filling the house, as if years of sorrow were pouring out of her, seeping from every inch of her, they stood like that for a long while, until Beth pulled away. She wiped her eyes, and suddenly she was calm, collected, the familiar Beth again. The emotion gone.
‘So what do we do now?’ she finally asked.
‘We need to find out who is doing this to us.’
‘And then what?’
‘And then we get the bastard.’
45
Charlie had stayed with her until lunchtime, but eventually made his excuses and left. He told Beth not to worry, they’d get through this.
She wasn’t so sure.
He seemed optimistic. But Beth had been here many times; experienced the hatred once people discovered who she was.
This was Charlie’s first time, she couldn’t blame him for not understanding. But she couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of foreboding that consumed her. It always ended the same way. With her leaving. Starting again somewhere new. It was easier in the past. She had no ties, no family. Packing a bag and moving was simple. But now, with Charlie, Peter and Daisy, things were different.