‘Yes, after Georgia died,’ Sofie said, worried that she’d really upset Jessie. ‘Sorry, it just feels rude talking about someone else’s bereavement. I wouldn’t like it if I heard that my flatmates had been discussing my personal life behind my back.’
Jessie felt guilty for having gone in all guns blazing. Sofie was sweet and she was naïve; it was also true that she was hardly ever home and was a permanent optimist and peacemaker. Of course, she hadn’t known the extent of poor Lauren’s vulnerable mental state – which she was obviously very good at keeping hidden. There was one more question she had to ask, all the same.
‘Do you think Lauren is really capable of hurting someone?’
Silence again.
‘I’ve never felt worried about living with her,’ Sofie spoke carefully. ‘I know she’s had her issues to deal with, but I genuinely believe that Lauren is a nice girl – and she’s been an especially good friend to you, hasn’t she?’
Jessie swallowed hard. Was running back home an overreaction? She hadn’t actually managed to read any of the nitty-gritty details in Lauren’s file – and this was someone who’d been there for her during her lowest ebb, who’d made her tea and toast when her heart was broken and her body had doubled over in physical pain.
‘If anything,’ Sofie continued, ‘I would say Lauren is more likely to hurt herself than anybody else. But to be honest, even though we’ve lived together for a long time, I still wouldn’t exactly say we were all that close. So, I really don’t know.’
‘I don’t know’ wasn’t enough of a reassurance.
‘Maybe you should stay at Henry’s tonight,’ Jessie said, in what she hoped was an authoritative tone. ‘Just until we work out what’s going on here.’
Sofie gave an awkward laugh.
‘Unsurprisingly, I was already planning to. What about you?’
For all Henry’s faults, he was at least a good person to have on side in this scenario. Jessie was glad that Sofie would be out of Lauren’s firing line should her mood flip.
‘I’ll think of an excuse to give Lauren about why I’m not in the flat tonight and be back in touch when I’ve figured out what I’m doing. Take care, Sofe,’ Jessie said, then cut off the call.
She was utterly exhausted, the lure of sleep calling. A red dot had appeared next to the voicemail symbol on her call register but she didn’t want to listen to it, she wanted to shut her eyes and pretend that everything was normal, nap until the train pulled into Chesterbury. The woman opposite had given up on the book of puzzles she’d been filling in and was resting her head against the window, cupping her bump tenderly. Jessie’s eyelids fluttered closed. She’d let herself take a short rest and call her mum when the train was a couple of stops away from Chesterbury and she could give her a rough arrival time. That made more sense. She was sure her parents would be at home tonight anyway, as they rarely ventured out on a Monday evening, other than for a quick visit to Sainsbury’s. Just as the train approached Little Brownshire, a text flashed up from Priya.
Your flatmate Lauren has just messaged me on Instagram asking if you’re at mine. What’s going on?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
In Chesterbury station car park, Jessie slid into the passenger seat beside her dad, pecking him on the cheek. The car had trapped the strong scent of his ancient cologne, the one that his wife, Jessie’s mother, was always nagging him to update. But for Jessie, it was comforting to be around. It made her feel safe. For the first time in weeks she could stop looking over her shoulder, expecting to be followed.
‘Well, this is a bit of a surprise but it’s nice to see you, sweetheart,’ he said, putting the car in gear and reversing out of the parking space.
Jessie yawned loudly.
‘A good surprise I hope. Sorry, for the short notice. I just really need a break and some peace and quiet. Given that Christmas was so busy, I feel like I’ve not had any proper downtime since I moved away.’
Her brain felt like scrambled eggs that had been blasted through the microwave on too high a heat. Her dad lowered the radio and smiled, but said nothing, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. Their relationship was one of quiet understanding. He wasn’t the type to check in with her constantly, usually hearing news about her life second-hand via his wife, but they were close, and he loved having his daughter home. Back at the house, Jessie’s mother hovered behind an ironing board in the living room, nervously awaiting their arrival. She’d been fretting about Jessie ever since that worrying phone call the day before. The door opened. She immediately engulfed her daughter in a hug and hair stroke.
‘Tell me again, what happened yesterday, love? Your text wasn’t entirely clear,’ she fussed. ‘The break-in turned out to not really be a break-in after all?’
Jessie’s mother could always tell when something wasn’t right with her. She looked so worn out and painfully thin.
‘Honestly, it’s fine, Mum. Please stop flapping.’
Her voice sounded thick with cold. That always happened when she was getting rundown. When Jessie was smaller she was forever coming home from sleepovers with a runny nose, so she obviously hadn’t been taking care of herself. What was that mark on her forehead too, just visible through her baby’s neat fringe? More than anything, she hated that she couldn’t be there to look after her on a daily basis any more. In a funny way, it had been even tougher watching Jessie leave home the second time around. At least when she was at university – and still in a relationship with Matthew – she had come home at the weekends.
‘Jessica, you need to tell us. What happened with the police? Your message wasn’t clear?’
Once Sergeant Langley and PC Phillips had left, Jessie had texted her mum playing down what had happened, bluffing that she’d simply panicked and jumped to conclusions. Her mum had phoned several times, but she hadn’t picked up.
‘The woman in the kitchen was a friend of Lauren’s who I’ve not met before and I didn’t realise she was staying with us,’ Jessie laughed, slapping on an ‘oops, aren’t I silly?’ smile.
Her dad chuckled. Typical Jessie. She’d always been a funny little thing growing up, afraid of witches living under the bed or ghouls escaping from the inside of her wardrobe. He couldn’t understand why she created such unnecessary anxiety for herself, or why his wife seemed to either, for that matter. Must be a woman thing. He resumed flicking through the channels: if he was lucky he might be able to catch the end of the news.
‘How long will you be staying for? I’ve made your bed up and left some clean towels out for you,’ Jessie’s mum said. ‘No rush, of course; you know we love having you here.’
It wasn’t like Jessie to be so vague about her plans.
‘If we’d have known you were coming I would’ve done a big shop and got all your favourites in,’ she added, hoping she didn’t sound overbearing. ‘I could’ve made one of those Mary Berry lemon drizzle cakes I know you love.’
She knew if she pushed too hard that Jessie would clam up completely.
‘Probably just a few days. I thought it’d be nice to surprise you,’ Jessie replied, taking a seat on the sofa. ‘Plus, I was feeling like a little break from Brighton.’
Her mum nodded and went back to pressing the creases out of one of her husband’s work shirts.
‘It is, it’s a lovely surprise. Tell me, how is work going? What did your flatmates have to say about you calling the police?’
She bit her tongue. Hopefully that wasn’t one question too many. Jessie was like a bag of popcorn that needed to be opened slowly, otherwise the contents would fly out in random directions.
‘They found it funny that I panicked so much, Mum. Honestly, it was no harm done. As for work, everything is great. Couldn’t be better.’
Jessie’s mouth was starting to hurt from the overly stretched smile. Her phone vibrated. It was a new message from Lauren.
Hey, when are you back? Are you okay? Remember the locks have been changed and I have the new keys for you.
Shit. She hadn’t thought of that. She’d have to get a new set cut from Sofie’s somehow. Maybe she could go into the café and grab them off her, get them sorted in that little cobblers on the same street. It would only take a few minutes. She could wait a few days until everybody would be out at work then grab her stuff, just the essentials, it wouldn’t take long. It was probably about time she did a Marie Kondo on her wardrobe anyway, decluttered and downsized. The more relaxed she felt being back with her parents, the more certain she became about getting out of Maver Place for good. This was how she wanted to feel every time she came home.
‘I’ll make you some toast,’ her mum announced, sensing she’d lost her daughter to her phone. ‘With jam?’
Jessie nodded, but didn’t look up from the screen. Typical millennial. She ate the toast by nibbling off the crusts first, as she always did. Her mum watched from across the room, pretending she wasn’t.
Jessie knew she couldn’t ignore Lauren forever. But she also didn’t want to let on what she now knew about her … friend? Her flatmate? At this point she had no idea what to call her. But given that Lauren was prone to ‘unpredictable behaviour’, the safest bet would be to act as normal as possible, so that she wouldn’t clock anything was amiss.
My mum hasn’t been all that well, so I’m spending a few days in Chesterbury with the family. Speak soon x
It couldn’t merely be a coincidence that both Magda and Beth had ended up in such dire straits after living with Lauren, could it? If Lauren had a habit of forming obsessive female friendships, perhaps Sofie had only been spared because Henry was always there, acting as her heavyweight shadow. A call lit up Jessie’s phone. Lauren. She couldn’t answer, not yet. Not until she’d got her head in better order. Instead she switched her mobile to silent and pushed it down the gap between two sofa cushions. She’d deal with it in the morning. Her exhaustion levels were so high that she could feel drool starting to escape from the corners of her mouth. Everything could wait until the morning.
Upstairs in her teenage girlish room, left untouched by her parents, Jessie searched through the chest of drawers for a nightdress and pulled out a bobbly one with a peeling Winnie the Pooh motif on the front. It still fitted, if a little snugly. She was regressing. Being an adult had turned out to be nothing like she’d imagined it would be, when she used to lie awake fantasising about it in this same room. She practised her usual breathing exercises and tried to concentrate on nothing but the hum of the television coming from downstairs. Her parents were watching Blackadder again. No matter how many times her dad had seen whatever episode they were on, he would laugh just as hard as the first time.
Jessie awoke the following day just before noon, to dozens of missed calls from Lauren, Priya and Pamela. She groaned, then opened her inbox and composed an email to Pamela apologising for her absence, explaining there had been a family emergency. The message was left deliberately open-ended, saying she’d be in touch when she knew when she might be back. It was unfair to have left her in the lurch like that – Pamela and Juliette had only ever been kind to her, and even Cheryl on reception was forever popping into their corner of the office and saying hello. But there were too many other things to be dealing with right now. And doing admin full-time for the NHS had hardly been her lifelong dream; maybe getting fired would be the push she needed to look for something else. Jessie headed to the bathroom to clean her teeth and realised they were chattering, then wandered downstairs to the dining room. It was difficult to chew her Frosties. They sat in mushy clumps on the insides of her cheeks and made the milk taste far too sweet.
All she needed to do was call Happy Homes and tell them to find a replacement tenant. She could settle up the last of her bills privately with Sofie or Marcus and this would all be over. Work would be easy enough to quit too, if Pamela hadn’t already sacked her; she could just drop by the office in a few days and hand her notice in. And then what? Maybe now was the time to finally go travelling, to do something entirely for herself? Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
Travelling is what she should have done in the first place, rather than slotting herself back into Brighton. The whole world was out there waiting for her and the only thing stopping her seeing it was herself. Jessie turned the thought over a few times, churning it like butter, until it suddenly felt so clear, she could almost smell sun cream and feel the heat. What happened next was down to her, not Lauren or Matthew or anybody else. Just her. Her spirits started to lift a little. There were some cousins on her father’s side who lived over in Australia, which could be a good first stop. A stepping stone before going totally solo. Jessie grabbed a sheet of paper out of the clunky printer attached to the family computer, which sat in the corner of the dining room. It had been there for years. She’d hated it as a teenager, because it meant that whenever one of her parents passed through to reach the kitchen, they could see the screen over her shoulder. All her intensely personal MSN conversations with Nicole or a tracksuit-clad boy from school. Her mum in particular would always walk past at a deliberately snail-rivalling pace too.
Grabbing a biro, Jessie started to jot down a list of ten destinations she’d like to visit, feeling her excitement building with each one. She googled ‘travelling bucket list’, underlined Thailand several times and drew a big enthusiastic circle around Morocco. How incredible would it feel to wake up and not have to think about anything other than what mountain to trek up? There’d be no stressing about bills, ex-boyfriends, Tinder or best friends concealing an integral part of their personality. She’d never have to listen to Juliette chewing with her mouth open again. Jessie tapped the pen in a happy tune. A night at home was exactly what she’d needed to start figuring things out. Life already felt calmer, like it might be okay now. There was the start of a plan. She had hope. Jessie peered out of the dining room window, at the neat cul-de-sac of mock Tudor houses with their manicured square lawns out front. The suburbs had mollycoddled her so tightly for the first eighteen years of her life without her even realising it. Dinner had always been on the table at six o’clock sharp, dance classes were on Tuesdays and Fridays, and every Saturday morning she’d been driven to gymnastics with her hair scraped so tightly back that her scalp would ache when she later untied her ponytail. A grey old man walked past with a yappy little terrier – lots of the people who lived around here were grey, or beige. They might keep their colouring inside the lines, but she didn’t have to.
Jessie’s phone screen danced with an incoming call; it was a Brighton number but not one she immediately recognised. Pamela? She answered.
‘Jessica Campbell?’
‘Yes?’
‘This is Sergeant Langley calling from Sussex Police in regard to the crime you recently reported, with the reference number C161102. We’d like to invite you to attend an identity parade.’
Jessie’s heart slid down in her chest. They wanted her to point the finger at Elizabeth Holliday. A homeless woman who had nothing. Sergeant Langley paused, then added in a final request.
‘We’d also like to ask you a few questions in relation to another case we have open.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lauren sat at the kitchen table in Maver Place growling at her phone. Why wasn’t Jessie, her supposed best friend, who she’d supported through thick and thin, messaging her back or answering any calls? If only Jessie knew about all the things she’d done to keep her safe, she wouldn’t abandon her like this. It was she, and only she, who had her best interests at heart. Not Priya or Nicole. It just wasn’t normal for Jessie to leave Brighton without telling her first. Something was definitely wrong. The thought made Lauren sick to her stomach; she hated being in the flat without her and felt crippled by the loneliness. Without Jessie, she just wandered around aimlessly from room to room, smoking and waiting. It was all she could do. Georgia’s death had given her enough pain to last a lifetime and she couldn’t stand to lose anybody else.
Burying her face in her hands, La
uren replayed some of the memories that taunted her on a daily basis. The ones that, no matter how hard she had tried to forget, with medication, therapy and anything else she could think of, she couldn’t erase. The memories which coated her in a thick layer of guilt every day. They, along with the grief, were still just as raw as they had been almost four years ago, she’d just learnt to hide it better. Lauren still missed her sister so much it knocked the air clean out of her lungs. She also missed her parents, who’d become robotic ever since Georgia’s death. Their perfect family of four was splintered and surrounded by shadow without her. Ever since, dinners and Christmases had turned into little more than clipped conversations, long pauses and an empty chair that nobody could take their eyes away from.
When the twins were first born, Gwen McCormack would spent hours lying next to her much longed for babies on the living room floor, stroking their identical upturned noses. She was so proud to show them off, even taking them along to audition to be in a TV advert when they were toddlers, after seeing a call-out for identical twins in the newspaper. That had been a mistake. Georgia, the elder of the two by seven minutes, had done spectacularly well – even the casting director had called her a natural – but Lauren had screamed the place down until they’d been asked to leave. On their first day of school, Georgia led the way again, whereas Lauren’s insides juddered with dread at the prospect of spending a day surrounded by alien children. All the other pupils were too loud, they didn’t understand her the way Georgia did – she was the only one who knew what to say when Lauren lashed out and bit another child for trying to talk to them, or when she scratched any teacher who dared try to separate them.
As the twins grew older and boys entered the equation, Lauren’s confidence took a further battering. Georgia was the first to do everything, from kissing the captain of the football team to sneaking out late to stay at his house. Lauren could still remember how it felt, sitting up all night, tormented that she’d been left behind, waiting for Georgia to come home. It was the same feeling she was experiencing now, because of Jessie. It was all she could focus on. By the end of their sixth form, Lauren had caught up on the socialising front, having studied and adopted the way Georgia tossed her head back when she laughed, how she walked into a party as though everybody in it owed her their time. It had taken practice, but by the time they left home for university (the same one of course), Lauren was able to convince most people that she was charming and bright too. It had lured Jessie in, and Zach, the only man who had ever noticed her first, while Georgia was also in the room.
The Wrong Move Page 24