A Face in the Crowd: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller

by Kerry Wilkinson

  ‘All those things you wanted. The stables, the house—’

  ‘It wasn’t me who wanted them. I could’ve had a small wedding. I didn’t need the big house. You wanted those.’

  A shrug: ‘Right, but we can both have them now…’

  We’re off the padded matting now, onto the grass. I risk a glance backwards to the hall, but, when I turn back, Ben is another step closer.

  ‘No,’ I say.

  He stops, frozen half in shadow. I can only see the right side of his face, but there’s puzzlement there. ‘What do you mean no?’

  I try to sound bold and assertive even though I feel the opposite. ‘I don’t want this. If you’re alive, then good for you. Go and enjoy your life as Peter. Tell your mum or don’t tell her. I don’t want any part of it. I’m my own person and I have a life. You’re not in it.’

  It’s hard not to stumble with my next step backwards. There’s a hidden ridge in the grass and I panic that Ben is going to launch himself forward as I try to right myself. He doesn’t though. He’s still. I take more steps away from him until there’s a gap of ten metres or more and I can barely see him among the shadows. He hasn’t moved. I almost stop to ask if he’s okay.

  Almost.

  But I don’t. I turn and run until I’m at the back of the hall once more. Lights are still spinning; music is playing. It’s Kylie again: one of the oldies from her Neighbours days. Warmth seeps out from the inside, catching in my lungs. I’m out of breath and my mouth is dry. It’s only when I step into the hall that the horrifying, haunting thought hits me.

  I turn back to the park, but there’s no figure there any longer. No sign that Ben was ever there at all. It’s hard not to wonder, though. If he did all this, then what wouldn’t he do?

  And what happened to Jade?

  Chapter Forty

  I drift across to the speakers near the stage, where the MP3 player has been unplugged and is sitting on top of the small table. Karen’s phone has become dominant once more. Kylie becomes Jason and all our youthful pasts flood back in a blur of dodgy perms and lunchtimes skiving off school to watch Neighbours. I check that nobody’s paying me any attention and then grab the music player and stuff it into a pocket, almost to prove that this happened.

  When I turn around, Billy is there, watching me with his ears pricked, as if waiting to hear what I have to say for myself. I crouch and rub his back, but this is insufficient as he turns and mooches back towards the other dogs in the corner.

  I have no idea what to do.

  If I called the police, what would I say? That my dead boyfriend is back? He assaulted someone with whom I’d been on a date, poisoned my dog and might have killed the person who lived opposite me? All I know about his life now is that he’s called Peter. He could disappear back to wherever he was before with no proof he was ever here. I’d sound like a madwoman.

  I head back towards the doors and stare out to the green and the darkened play park. Seeing Ben already feels like something of a dream. A shadowy figure on a shadowy child’s swing at a time of year that’s known for ghosts and ghouls.

  Someone I don’t recognise nudges past me with an apology. People are starting to leave the party, which means a series of lengthy goodbyes. There are hugs, handshakes, air-kisses and actual kisses, accompanied by empty platitudes like, ‘I’ll call’, or ‘I’ll be in touch’. When it comes to any social gathering, nobody can ever just leave. I’ve had shorter sleeps than some people spend saying goodbye to one another.

  I’m still staring out towards the park when a hand touches my shoulder. I jump and spin around, expecting the worst – but it’s Karen. She doesn’t seem to notice my alarm, largely because she’s swaying slightly from side to side.

  ‘What happened with the music?’ I ask.

  ‘Someone playing around,’ she replies.

  ‘I think I’m going to leave. I’ve got an interview tomorrow morning and—’

  ‘You have an interview?’

  ‘Didn’t I say? It’s at an office close to Crosstown? It’s only filing and that sort of stuff, but I want to make sure I get a good sleep. It’s—’

  Karen lunges at me, wrapping both arms around my back and stroking my hair. ‘Oh, honey. I’m so happy for you…’

  I tap her gently on the back, unsure how to respond. At least in part, it’s drunk talk. Karen is slurring her words as she presses hard into the crook of my neck.

  ‘You deserve this,’ she says.

  It takes me a few seconds to extricate myself and then it’s our turn for the lengthy goodbye. I promise to let Karen know how the interview goes and she says I’ll have to come over for dinner soon. After that, I put Billy back on his lead and tug him away from his new friends. There are more goodbyes – mainly from me – and then I’m finally outside, on the way home.

  It’s a short walk, but I spend the whole time peering into the shadows. As if trying to give me a heart attack, a cat jumps from a wall, landing with elegant ease on the pavement in front of us. Billy’s ears prick up, but he’s too tired to go chasing tonight. The cat stands and watches, almost daring us on. It’s nothing to worry about and yet I still walk in the middle of the road for the short distance back. It’s where there’s more light; where I am furthest from the bleakness of the overgrown bushes and the high walls behind which anyone could be hiding. It’s late, but I want to call Lauren to tell her that I know who’s living opposite. That she’s rented the apartment to a fraud. It’s only the fact I’m sober that stops me.

  After getting into Hamilton House, I find myself edging up the stairs, expecting a surprise around every corner. There’s no one there; nobody in the hall outside my door.

  Jade’s door is unlocked and slightly open. There’s silence as I wait in the corridor and only darkness within. I knock hard on the door frame and then, when there’s no reply, push the door open with my foot?

  ‘Hello? Ben?’

  There’s still no reply, so I poke my head inside and flick on the light, only to see that there’s nothing inside, except for the sofa and small table. The ethernet cable has disappeared from the back of the room and the cupboard door in which I found Melanie’s coat is open. The apartment feels different than it did when I was last here. It felt occupied then, even though there was so little furniture. Now, there’s an emptiness to the air and it feels abandoned.

  I exit back to the corridor and leave the door as I found it. After getting into my own apartment, I close the door and lock it; then carry a chair across the room and wedge it underneath the handle.

  Billy is already in his bed, head down, ready to sleep. It’s past his bedtime and he’s had a busy day. I don’t pull out the bed, instead sitting on the sofa and huddling under a blanket. It doesn’t feel as if I’ll be able to sleep. Sometimes I might have the television on for background noise – but not this evening. I close my eyes and strain to listen for any sounds from the corridor.

  It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’ve lost something, even though the opposite is true. Perhaps it’s that I no longer have the sense of security I once had? Or that there are certain things in life that can be taken for granted? The sky is blue and the night is dark – but I’m not sure what to believe any longer. Absolutes are no longer absolute.

  I lay my head on the armrest and open my eyes to watch Billy. He’s on his side, head tucked underneath his paw. His ribs are rising and falling in steady rhythm and I wish his innocence was mine. I won’t sleep tonight. I know I won’t.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Saturday

  I’m pinned to the sofa, my legs dead and useless. I try to lift up from my hips but there’s no strength below my waist. It’s a mass of paralysis, with added pins and needles. When I open my eyes, there’s a familiar sight.

  ‘C’mon, Bill,’ I say. ‘Let me up.’

  Billy opens a single eye and groans slightly. There’s a sliver of slobber around his lips and his eyelids flutter sleepily. He’s comfy and the fact he’s laid
across the entirety of my lower half is seemingly a problem for me, not him. I don’t remember falling asleep, something emphasised by the jabbing jolts of pain in my neck. I’ve slept with my head twisted at an L-angle to the rest of my body. The curtains are open and light floods across the apartment, but it’s only when I spot the chair wedged under the front door handle that I remember what happened last night. Now, even more than then, it feels like a figment of my imagination. Could I have somehow imagined it all?

  I push myself up, sliding my legs out from underneath Billy’s frame. He rolls over and once again shoots me his best betrayed look. The pins and needles start to fade as I knead my fists into my thighs and twitch my toes. My initial few steps are unsteady, a baby duckling waddling onto shore for the first time, but the feeling is almost back as I get to the front door. I remove the chair and then open the door to stare into the corridor. The door to the apartment opposite is still slightly agape, a reminder of what was and what’s gone.

  This time I do call Lauren, who answers with a brusque, ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Lucy,’ I tell her. ‘From Hamilton House.’

  ‘Oh. You know it’s Saturday…?’

  I have to resist answering with sarcasm that, yes, I do understand the concept of a seven-day week.

  ‘It’s Jade’s old flat,’ I say.

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘The door’s open. I couldn’t help but seeing inside – and it looks like it’s been cleared out. I think whoever was there has gone.’

  Lauren sighs: ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘They might have invisible furniture, I suppose…’

  ‘At least he paid to the end of the year.’ Another sigh: ‘All right. I’ll be over later. Can you close the door?’

  I step into the hallway and the floor creaks gently underneath my foot. ‘Can you tell me who lived there?’ I ask.

  ‘We did talk about this. I can go—’

  ‘Was it someone called Peter?’

  There’s a pause that’s long enough to serve as confirmation.

  ‘I’ll be over later,’ Lauren says, more firmly this time. ‘Is there anything else?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Lauren says goodbye and then hangs up. It’s only as my phone flashes back to the main screen that I realise the time. I have a job interview in exactly an hour.

  There’s a part of me that can’t quite comprehend going to it given everything that’s happened in the past twelve hours or so. It feels like such a normal thing in a world that’s now abnormal. I’m not sure what the alternative is, though. There might be a link from Lauren to Ben – or Peter as he calls himself. I could tell the police and let them look into it, but, for now, if I miss that interview then I’m not sure where it leaves me. If Ben has gone for good, or even if he hasn’t, I still have a life to lead.

  I blink away thoughts of Jade and what happened to her. It’s selfish, I know, but it isn’t like I’m forgetting her for good. I pull the door to her old apartment closed and then rush back into my flat for a shower.

  Fifteen minutes later and I’m almost ready to go – with one small problem.

  I hurry down the hall to Karen’s, partly to check that she’s still sentient. The last time I saw her, she was swaying from side to side and slurring. She answers moments after I knock and, to great surprise, is wearing yoga leggings, a vest and her running shoes.

  ‘I know!’ she says as I goggle at her.

  ‘I was checking you were all right,’ I say. ‘I didn’t expect you to be in anything other than a dressing gown at best.’

  ‘It’s a miracle. I drank so much, I thought I’d be hung-over until the kids are back tomorrow night – but I’ve defied science. I’m a medical marvel. I’m going to Parkrun in a bit.’

  ‘Could you take Billy? I’ve got my interview and—’

  ‘Of course. Drop him round. He’s going to have to run a bit slower with me, though.’

  Karen is on her way out but waits in the corridor for a couple of minutes as I collect Billy and check I have everything I need. The fact it’s all such a rush is probably a good thing because I’ve not had time to be nervous about the interview itself. There are bigger things clouding my mind.

  Billy doesn’t seem to mind and happily trots down the stairs at Karen’s side. It’s hard to know who’s the traitor – me for abandoning him, or him for dutifully ambling along with somebody else.

  When we get outside, Karen heads towards the park, or, more to the point, Billy sets off towards the park with Karen in tow. She laughs a cheery ‘good luck’ and then she’s off around the corner of the building. I head the other way to the community centre and the bus stop beyond. The last time I walked this way, I was in the middle of the road in the dark, nervously checking the shadows in case Ben had stayed around. It feels different now. Leaves are billowing along the gutters as a pair of lads in football kit walk along the other side of the road. One has a ball under his arm and both have string bags on their backs. There’s nobody else in sight, including at the deserted bus stop.

  It’s hard to stop my mind wandering as I wait. I want to think about the interview, how I don’t have a job and that I need this. Ben’s money is upstairs in my flat, but the allure has gone. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to spend it. Jade’s face keeps eclipsing everything else. As mad as I’ll sound, I need to tell the police that I saw Ben and that he’s calling himself Peter. They can check with Lauren and, if there’s a paper trail, they could find him.

  The bus chugs into the stop with a guff of noxious air and the doors fizz open. I flash my pass to the driver, who barely looks at it before nodding and punching a button to close the door behind me. The bus is probably half full, with almost everyone staring at their phones. I move along the aisle, but the driver sets off before I sit and I stumble into an empty pair of seats largely by default. The CCTV dome is a row ahead of me and I can’t believe I never noticed it. I stare at it now, thinking of the person on the other side who might have to wade through the footage if a nutter like me phones up.

  My thoughts slip to barely a week ago when it all started on this bus. I was standing a couple of metres from where I am now when that envelope of money dropped into my bag and everything changed. Or, to some degree, nothing changed. I’m still paying off somebody else’s debts and living pay packet to pay packet. Everything’s different except nothing is. I might spend the rest of my life wondering if Ben – or Peter – will return. Or, perhaps the memory of last night will dim and I’ll be left questioning whether it happened at all.

  The bus pulls in at the next stop and a couple bluster their way along the aisle from behind me to get off. A small queue of people replaces them. Some head past me along the aisle; others risk the disabled seats at the front, hoping nobody with a wheelchair gets on.

  I check the address of the office for my interview on my phone and then try to give myself a pep talk. Be confident, be yourself; all that. It’s all fine as long as they’re looking for someone like me.

  Another stop and more people get on and off. My palms are starting to sweat now. It’s probably fifteen minutes until my stop – and then, forget being myself, I have to somehow pretend to be a competent, sociable human being. That’s life, I suppose. Pretend we know what’s going on until it becomes apparent to everyone else that we clearly do not. Sometimes that can take a day, other times it is years. Life is a collection of people not really knowing what they’re doing.

  I check the address again, even though it’s etched in my mind. The bus is filling up and there’s a shuffling from behind until someone drops in next to me. I glance sideways in the way people do when trying to look at a person without making it too obvious. This time, I stop and stare.

  ‘Hi,’ Ben says. He’s wearing a cap that’s pulled down and covering his eyebrows. The shape of his face is unmistakeable.

  ‘I—’

  ‘Shhhhhhh,’ he says so quietly that I barely hear him. He’s staring straight ahead, not
looking at me, but then his gaze flickers down to his arm. I don’t notice it at first, but now I see the glimmer of light catching the tip of the knife that’s protruding a few centimetres from his jacket.

  ‘What—’

  ‘Shhhhhhh,’ he coos. ‘We’re going to sit here nice and quietly. Okay?’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I do as I’m told. Ben has withdrawn the blade back into his sleeve, but I can sense its presence at my hip. He is staring at the back of the person’s head in front, with a curious, knowing half-smile on his face. I watch him sideways for a while, but it’s too disconcerting and I have to turn back to looking at my own lap and then out the window. Ben is sitting a little over the gap that separates the two seats, pressing me towards the window.

  A couple are having a mini-domestic in the row behind. She’s whispering about how he’s always late and he’s going on about something that happened in Cardiff last year. She replies that he always brings that up. Back and forth they go in something that’s close to domestic bliss compared to what’s going on within touching distance of where they’re sitting.

  The bus pulls into the next stop and Ben gently presses his sleeve into my leg, making it clear I shouldn’t move. I can’t feel the point of the blade through the material as Ben continues to smile and stare. When the doors hiss open, I consider shouting or screaming – except there’s no way I can get past Ben before something terrible happens. He’s too close.

  ‘Shhhhhhh,’ he whispers, as if reading my mind.

  More people shuffle onto the bus and I risk a quick glance backwards to see that the seats are now full.

  ‘Be smart,’ he says, and I turn back to the front.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I say.

  ‘Wait.’

  That’s all I can do. I move a little closer to the window to try to give myself some space, but Ben shifts further across the divide, wedging me in even tighter.