by Karen King
There was no record of the holiday being booked.
What was going on? Surely there would be a record of it? And someone must have been wondering why they hadn’t arrived. Wouldn’t they phone or email him? Reluctant as he was to ask Freya, it was the only thing left for him to do.
She was still out in the garden, watering the pots. She turned around as he came out. ‘Everything okay? You look a bit stressed.’
‘I thought I’d better alert the insurance people about the missed holiday, get our money back, but I can’t find the details anywhere,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve had all my desk out, checked my email. Zilch. Do you know who I booked with?’
He saw a cloud pass over her face and guessed she was thinking back to that awful night. He wished he hadn’t had to ask her, that he could have quietly cancelled without bringing it all up again.
‘You didn’t tell me anything about it, Phil. You just said you’d booked us a holiday as a surprise but when I said I couldn’t get away that week, we ended up rowing and you stormed out.’
A dull pain was forming across his brows, and he massaged his forehead with his fingers. ‘How can I cancel when I don’t know anything about it? I should have some record of it. A receipt, an email.’
‘Maybe it was in the car.’
She could be right, and they’d said the car was a write-off. If the holiday details had been in there, then they were probably destroyed. He rubbed his forehead again. ‘I hate this, not being able to remember anything.’
She smiled brightly. ‘Don’t worry, you’re bound to feel confused. It must be horrible not remembering stuff. Forget about the holiday for now. We have months to tell the insurance company about your accident. Just concentrate on getting better.’
He couldn’t forget about it – it was the damn holiday that had caused the argument. It must have been very important to him – maybe that was why he’d got so angry. He’d planned to spoil Freya and maybe she’d dismissed it without even discussing it, shut him down right away. Even so, it was inexcusable for him to throw the vase and then storm out.
If that’s what he had done.
Maybe it had been Freya who threw the vase, and that was why he’d stormed out. He couldn’t make sense of it all.
Freya walked over and gave him a hug. ‘Come on, let’s go to the Mill Pond now. It’ll do us good to get out for a bit.’
As her arms wrapped around him and she nestled her head on his shoulder, he relaxed. She was right: he had to forget about the damn holiday and the awful row – the important thing was that he and Freya loved each other. All couples had rows, and okay, it sounded like this one had got out of hand, but it was in the past. He had to make sure it never happened again.
17
Monday
‘Daisy!’ Phil was surprised to see his sister-in-law standing on the doorstep. He’d actually thought twice about answering the door when the bell rang, and if he’d seen it was Daisy, he probably wouldn’t have – he was tired and his ribs were aching, and he really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. ‘Freya’s at work today – didn’t she tell you?’
Daisy looked a bit awkward. ‘Yes, but well… I need to speak to you.’
He stared at her, uncomprehending. Why did she want to speak to him? And why had she come when she knew Freya wasn’t at home? He didn’t like the sound of this.
‘Can I come in for a few minutes?’ she asked. ‘It’s a bit private to discuss on the doorstep.’
That sounded ominous. ‘Sure.’ He stepped back, opening the door wide.
‘Thanks.’ She walked in then along the hall into the lounge. Phil followed her through, closing the door behind him.
‘What’s this about?’ he asked. He didn’t feel like being sociable, especially with someone he barely knew and had never particularly liked.
Daisy was standing with her back to the doorway, almost as if she was ready to make a quick exit if things got uncomfortable. Phil walked past her, stood facing her.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.
‘My ribs are still pretty sore, and this is a bind.’ Phil nodded at his bandaged arm. ‘Otherwise I’m okay. Thanks for asking. Has Freya asked you to pop in to make sure I’m coping okay?’ He couldn’t think of any other reason why she would be here.
She ignored the question, her eyes resting on his face as if trying to assess his reaction. ‘What about your memory? Have you remembered anything from the last two years? Anything at all?’
Ah, was this about the argument the night of the accident? Had Freya told her about it? He guessed she was bound to – as sisters they must be close. He shook his head. ‘Nothing at all. Freya told me about our argument, if that’s what you came to talk to me about. I’m really ashamed about that. I can’t believe I acted so badly just because she couldn’t ditch everything and go on a last-minute holiday with me. I’m sorry, truly I am.’
‘Well, it’s good to know that you’re actually admitting it instead of pretending that Freya was the one at fault.’
‘What do you mean?’ He shook his head, bewildered. He had no idea what Daisy was talking about and could see that she was really annoyed about something. What else had he done that he couldn’t remember?
It took her a long time to answer, and when she finally did, her words stunned him.
‘You phoned me on Friday night. You sounded really upset and said that Freya had thrown the vase and it had cut your forehead. You said you were leaving her. You’re a good actor – you had me convinced!’
Phil scratched his head. ‘I don’t understand… Why would I say that?’ Then something else occurred to him. ‘And why would I phone you?’
Daisy went pale. ‘I’m sorry, I need to sit down.’ She placed a hand on the arm of the sofa and eased herself down, looking so queasy Phil thought she was going to throw up.
‘Are you ill? Do you need a drink?’
‘A glass of water, please,’ she whispered.
Phil fetched it, using the ice dispenser in the fridge to make sure the water was cold. He watched in concern as Daisy took the glass from him and sipped it. Why was she here, and was what she’d said true? None of it made sense. He waited impatiently for her to compose herself.
‘Why have you come here? What did you want to speak to me about?’ he asked.
‘Nothing. It was a mistake.’ She took a long gulp of water, put the glass down on the coffee table in front of her and got to her feet. ‘I think it’s best if I go.’
She took a few steps towards the door but Phil reached out and grabbed her shoulder to stop her.
‘Please don’t walk out on me after dropping a bombshell like that. You said I phoned you to say Freya had hurt me and I was leaving her. You came to talk to me when you knew Freya would be at work. And you seem angry with me. You obviously wanted to talk to me about something I’ve done – what is it?’
She turned to him and he saw the panic in her eyes. What was she keeping from him? Was Freya lying when she said he was the one who threw the vase?
‘Tell me the truth, Daisy,’ he pleaded. ‘Did I really phone you and say that about Freya? Why? Why would I confide in you? I barely know you.’
She flinched as if he had slapped her across the face, then she raised her chin defiantly, her eyes meeting his. ‘Because we’ve been having an affair over the past few months, Phil. You were leaving Freya on the night of the accident. We were going away together.’
18
Phil’s shock was quickly replaced by anger. How could Daisy tell a lie this big? Was she trying to cause trouble for him and Freya? ‘You’re lying!’ he shouted furiously. ‘I would never have an affair with you. Never! I don’t even fancy you! And I love Freya. You’re a bloody liar!’
Daisy backed away, visibly shaking. Then she laughed, a scornful, mocking laugh. ‘Of course I’m lying,’ she scoffed. ‘I was testing you, Phil, checking to see if you can control your anger now and making sure that you aren’t conning my sister into believing t
hat you’ve lost your memory so that she’ll give you another chance. You always blamed Freya for the rows and the violence, even though you were the abusive one.’
Phil gasped at her words, his mind spinning. He didn’t like Daisy, could only remember meeting her a couple of times. Why would he tell her lies about Freya? He couldn’t understand why she was here and saying these things.
‘She thinks that you’ve changed, that because you say you’ve lost your memories of the last two years you can both start again and be happy, that you won’t be violent any more. Well, you might have forgotten, and Freya might believe you have changed, but I don’t. I know what you did, how you’ve treated my sister, and I’ve come to tell you that I’ll be watching you.’
Phil stared at her, eyes blazing, fists clenched tight. He wanted to yell at Daisy to stop telling her lies and to get out, but he was in turmoil, not knowing if they were lies. Was he really such an awful person?
‘I don’t trust you, Phil. You’re a liar and a bully. You’d better not hurt my sister again or I’ll call the police on you.’
She turned and walked out of the lounge, along the hall, towards the front door, but Phil suddenly charged after her, wanting – needing – more answers. He seized her shoulder, spun her around, anger now taking over from bewilderment.
‘Why did you say we had an affair? And pretend that I’d been confiding in you?’
‘I wanted to see how you’d react. To see if you were still so quick to lose your temper. And it worked. Look at you!’ She wriggled out of his grasp, contempt written all over her face. ‘Freya must be mad to give you another chance. And you had better treat her right. Like I said, I’ll be watching you.’
She turned around before he could answer and walked out of the front door, leaving Phil shaking.
He went out into the garden and lit a cigarette. Freya hated him smoking so he tried to restrict how many cigarettes he had and always smoked outside. At least he thought he did – he couldn’t remember the last two years. And he’d been warned not to smoke with his injured ribs, but sometimes it was the only thing that calmed him down, and right now he felt really agitated. What the hell had all that been about?
His first instinct was to phone Freya and tell her what had happened but he stopped himself.
Daisy had said he’d told her that Freya was abusing him. Yes, she’d taken it back, like she’d taken back that they were having an affair. But it was a strange thing to say just to provoke him and see if he would lose his temper.
People were always provoking him. Graham, his parents, Marianne. Was Freya? Did she push and provoke until he finally saw red and lashed out?
He hated this, not being able to remember. Anyone could tell him anything they wanted about the last two years and he wouldn’t know if they were lying.
How could he know for sure: was it him or was it Freya who lashed out?
*
The house is in darkness when I approach. It’s easy to get in. Just like last time, they’ve left the top kitchen window open – lots of people do that in the summer. They don’t realise how easy it is to slip your hand through, grab the side window latch and turn it, then you’ve got the window open and you’re in.
Last time I chickened out when I got inside. I was scared someone would hear me so I looked around downstairs a bit then I left – out of the back door, leaving it open a bit to let him know someone had been in. I wanted him to be scared for once, instead of scaring other people.
This time I want to let him know that someone is on to him, is watching him. So I leave him a note in his study. Then, I can’t resist it, I creep up the stairs. The bedroom door is open so I peer in and see them sleeping, him cuddled up to her, his bandaged arm resting on top of the duvet. They look all cosy, like they are really in love. Are they? Maybe she is, but him… Is he even capable of loving anyone?
I want to wake her, warn her about what he is capable of, but I don’t. I turn away and go back down the stairs. I leave the back door open again, though, to let him know that I’ve been, but this time I take the spare back door key with me – there’s a whole bunch of keys hanging on a rack in the kitchen… Stupid or what? It didn’t take me long to find the right one. I’ll have a copy done so I can get in easier next time, and return it before they even notice it’s gone.
I wonder what he’ll think when he sees my note. There’s no way he’ll even think it’s from me. It’s like he’s forgotten all about me. But I haven’t forgotten. I’ll never forget what he did. And I won’t rest until he’s paid for it.
19
Tuesday
He’d been dreaming again. This time it was a hazy dream of him sitting in a field, on a blanket, having a picnic. A woman was talking to him and he’d turned to answer, but before he could see her face he’d woken up. He lay awake now, his eyes still closed, trying to recollect and make sense of his dream. Was it Freya he’d been with? He tried to cast his mind back to relationships he’d had before Freya. Had he ever been on a picnic with one of them? Or maybe it was just a meaningless dream, brought on by Daisy’s words yesterday, pretending they’d had an affair. It was a sick thing to say and it had troubled him. He couldn’t fathom out why she had come to see him and why she would say such a thing.
It was no wonder he’d got angry though he wished he hadn’t. He’d played right into her hands, failed the ‘test’ she had set him. As if he would believe that he’d had an affair with her. Daisy didn’t attract him in the slightest – she was pretty enough, he guessed, but her expression was always hard and she was waspish with her tongue. He didn’t know how her husband – Mark, that was it – put up with her.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. He shouldn’t have got so angry with Daisy. She’d been frightened – he could tell even though she’d tried to pretend that she wasn’t. Well, she’d got the reaction from him that she’d wanted. A dull ache throbbed across his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the questions whirring in his mind.
‘How are you feeling?’ Sunlight blasted into the room as Freya opened the curtains.
Phil blinked and stared at her, surprised for a moment to see that she was dressed in denim shorts and a white T-shirt, then remembered that she was working from home today. She looked gorgeous, with that honey tan and the shorts hugging her butt really tight. He wanted to ask her to come back to bed but his ribs were still tender.
‘Okay… a bit heavy-headed.’ He propped up the pillow, sat up, reached for his coffee. ‘You’re up and about early. I didn’t hear you get up.’
She smiled. ‘I might be working from home but I still have to be at my desk at nine, and it’s almost that now.’
‘Is it?’ He glanced at the clock beside him and saw that she was right, it was five minutes to nine. ‘I think I’ve been out like a log.’
‘Not all night. You must have gone downstairs at some point, maybe for a drink?’
Phil frowned. ‘Really? I can’t remember that. How do you know – did I wake you?’
Freya sat down on the end of the bed. ‘No, but when I got up this morning, the back door was slightly open again.’ She paused. ‘I don’t want to worry you, Phil, but… well, that’s twice now, and we don’t want someone sneaking in while we’re sleeping and taking our stuff.’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t get out of bed. I’m sure I didn’t.’
She placed her hand on his, reassuring him. ‘Don’t stress. The painkillers you’re on are pretty strong. You were probably half-asleep.’
‘Maybe.’ That worried him. It was bad enough losing the past two years of his life without going out into the garden in the middle of the night and not remembering it, then forgetting to close and lock the door behind him. Had he been sleepwalking again? If so, it was the first time he’d done it since he was a child – aside from the night before. Mind you, he had gone through a traumatic accident. Was he talking in his sleep too? He’d been told he did that when he was stressed. He felt a bit nauseous at what he m
ight have been saying after Daisy’s visit.
‘I was dreaming a bit last night. I hope I didn’t disturb you, muttering and fidgeting.’
She smiled at him. ‘You were a bit restless but it was fine.’
‘So I didn’t say anything?’
‘Not that I heard. I was flat out, though – I didn’t even hear you go downstairs.’
‘Sorry. I hope I don’t make a habit of that. Maybe you should take the key out of the back door when we go to bed so I can’t get out.’
Freya looked thoughtful. ‘That’s a good idea – I’ll hang it on the key rack. If you’re sleepwalking, you might not bother to search for the key and decide to come back to bed instead.’ She bent over and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Stay in bed, rest for a while. I need to start work now but I’m only next door if you need anything.’
‘Okay. Thanks for the coffee.’ He sat up straighter and sipped the hot black liquid as Freya walked out of the room. He heard her go into the bedroom next door, where he guessed she’d already put her coffee on her desk. It was nice to have her working from home instead of in the office; he liked knowing that she was around. He felt a bit vulnerable with this deep void in his mind, especially if he was doing things he couldn’t remember.
As Freya was home, hopefully Daisy wouldn’t come calling again. She was the last person he wanted to see right now. In fact, he never wanted to see her again; it was horrible to try and trick him like that. And saying all that stuff she’d said about him hurting Freya. He would never hurt Freya. He loved her. Throwing that vase was a one-off, surely? He wouldn’t have meant it to hit Freya. Although Freya had mentioned that there had been a couple of other occasions he’d been abusive. He was ashamed of that – if it was true. Daisy’s visit had made him question that.
Part of him wanted to tell Freya about Daisy’s visit, let her know how poisonous her sister was, but a bigger part was frightened to, in case there was some truth in Daisy’s words. He was wondering now if she had come to see him because she didn’t know who to believe, because for some unknown reason he had told her that Freya was abusing him. Was she saying that Freya was one of those women who went berserk if you upset them, threw things, got aggressive? If she was, maybe he’d phoned Daisy in desperation, needing someone to confide in and thinking her sister might be the best person to advise him. Apparently when he’d been in hospital, Freya had told Daisy it was him who had thrown the vase, and obviously she now believed her sister. Surely Freya wasn’t like that? He couldn’t believe it. Yet why would he tell Daisy she was? The trouble was he couldn’t remember so had no way of knowing what was true. He had to be careful, just in case. Especially as he was still feeling weak and vulnerable.