‘Do you think it was my fault?’ he asks, his hurt tone making me furious with myself.
‘I’m so sorry, darling. I shouldn’t have put it like that. Of course it wasn’t your fault. I know you weren’t neglecting them.’ Another word I shouldn’t have used – one that would inevitably make him feel even more guilty. ‘Are you any clearer about what happened?’
‘Not really. Holly was dreadfully upset and kept saying she was sorry for going into my shed, although I told her it was my fault for forgetting to lock it. Did Bailey tell you what happened?’
‘No. Just that Holly was running away. But when I asked him what from, he said he didn’t know.’
There is a pause, and the unasked question hangs in the air, making the room feel claustrophobic. I walk over to the back door and open it as if to let some air in, but I need to have my back to Dominic as I speak.
‘I’m sorry you couldn’t get hold of me, Dom. I had to go out to visit a difficult family today. The child has been missing a lot of school, and when she does turn up she looks terrible. I’m going to have to talk to social services about them. But before I start something that might be difficult to stop, I wanted to know if there was some problem I could help with.’
‘And was there?’
‘No. I don’t think so. It’s simply a very unhappy household with two parents who struggle to find the will to get out of bed each morning. I’ll spare you the details. Anyway, I left my phone in the car. I didn’t want any interruptions, and I was with them for much longer than I anticipated. When I left I felt depressed by the whole thing so I went for a drive. Stupidly I didn’t check my phone. When I saw your message I headed straight back, but there’d been an accident and I was held up for ages. I’m so sorry. As soon as I knew, all I wanted to do was get to Holly.’
The last sentence at least is true.
I stare sightlessly into the shadowy back garden, but as I begin to relax now that the worst of my lies are done with, my attention switches to the door to the shed, softly lit by the light spilling from the back door and the kitchen window. Why was Holly in there? How did she cut her leg? I take a step outside.
‘Where are you going?’ Dominic asks.
‘I want to see where my little girl hurt herself.’
I hear the sound of Dominic’s glass going down on the worktop and know he is going to follow me. I walk quickly towards the shed.
‘Bugger,’ I hear him say. He had kicked off his blood-soaked trainers as soon as he came into the house and now he will have to go and hunt for something to put on his feet. I don’t wait.
The garden is shrouded in darkness. The heat of the day has left a veil of heavy air, and there is a smell of damp earth, as if a storm is coming. I can just make out the path in the borrowed light from the open door.
I reach the shed and push against the wooden door.
‘Ouch!’ I snatch my hand back, putting my finger into my mouth and sucking. A fragment of wood has buried itself deep in the soft flesh of its tip. I peer down to see where it has come from, ever conscious of ways my children might get injured, and give an involuntary gasp. The edge of the door is splintered, as is the door surround. It looks as if something has been inserted between the two to force the door open.
It’s clear what has happened. The shed has been burgled and that is how Holly managed to get in. I should have known Dominic wouldn’t have forgotten to lock it, and in his panic at the sight of Holly’s injury he can’t have noticed the evidence of the break-in.
Assuming the burglar is long gone, I reach out a leg and kick the door open. The long narrow space is pitch black at the far end, but I am sure there is no one there. I would feel it if someone was lurking in the shadows.
Reaching out a hand for the light switch, ready to flee if I am proven wrong and someone rushes at me, I press it down. The old fluorescent tube splutters into life, lighting the interior of the shed for a second, then plunging it back into darkness, repeating the pattern until it finally stabilises. I wasn’t wrong. There is no one here.
I hear a footstep behind me and my body freezes, as for an irrational moment I believe the burglar is behind me. The footsteps grow closer and at the exact moment I realise that it’s Dominic, following me from the kitchen, I see a photograph propped against his toolbox. My hand flies to my mouth. How did that get there? Who put it there?
I step quickly inside and grab the photo, pushing it into the pocket of my jeans.
‘Are you okay, darling?’ Dom says quietly behind me.
‘No. Not really. Look what I found.’ I lift a finger and point to the door. ‘We’ve had burglars. You’d better check what’s missing.’
‘What? God, what a pain,’ Dominic says with a sigh. ‘I suppose I’d better call the police.’
‘No! Not the police.’ I don’t think before I speak, but my reaction is instantaneous. I don’t miss the look of surprise on Dominic’s face.
‘Why not? If we’re going to claim on the insurance we’ve got no choice.’
I think quickly. ‘The children have been upset enough. If they wake up to see flashing blue lights and find a policeman sitting in our kitchen, they’ll be terrified. Maybe leave it to the morning and see if anything has been taken before we decide. If nothing’s gone, it’s probably not worth it.’
‘Do you think it’s the man who’s been lurking around the place for the last few days? The one I told you about?’
I switch off the light before I turn to Dom so he can’t see my face, edge past him and head back up the path. ‘I don’t know, but I need that wine. Come on. We’ve had enough to deal with for one night. Let’s have a couple of glasses and try to relax.’
But I’m not going to relax until I’ve had a chance to hide the photo. It feels as if it’s burning my skin through the fabric of my jeans. I didn’t have the chance to look at it closely, but I know who it is.
24
Then
Relieved as I was that I didn’t have to confess to losing the charity money, I couldn’t rid myself of the heavy despondent mood that had been with me since I had discovered it was missing. It was only when Scott finally explained to me why he had taken it that I felt my mood lighten. It seemed his parents were no better off than mine, so when they suffered a small fire in their kitchen they couldn’t afford to replace even the basics, and Scott had wanted to help.
‘My dad’s not well, and as the insurance pay-out was due any day I told them I still had some of my loan left, and I’d been earning a bit of cash so I could lend it to them. I didn’t want them to worry, and I thought I’d get it back quickly. But the insurers are now claiming it wasn’t an accident – you know what they’re like, trying to wheedle out of coughing up. It’s been hell for my parents, but I will get it back, Anna. I promise.’
I felt sorry for them – and for Scott, who was deeply embarrassed – but I was just glad the nightmare was over and I silently thanked Cameron as I handed over the money to the charity. And when the insurance came through I would be able to pay him off.
The following day, Jagger was lying in wait as I came out of a lecture.
‘He wants to see you,’ he said and walked away. I presumed I had to follow.
Cameron was sitting in the back room of the bar again, and he gave me a friendly smile when he saw me.
‘Hi, Anna. I don’t have long, I’m afraid, but I thought we should get the paperwork done. Here’s the agreement, and if you could sign on the last page we’re all done and dusted.’
I looked with dismay at a three-page document, the typing small and closely spaced in two columns on each page.
‘I probably need someone to look at this for me,’ I said, about to fold the document and take it away.
I looked up at Cameron. The smile had dropped from his face.
‘You don’t trust me?’ He looked over my head. ‘What do you think of that, Jagger?’
‘Ungrateful, if you ask me. You trusted her with the money and no agreement, but
she doesn’t trust you.’
Cameron reached for the contract. ‘Don’t worry, Anna. Just give me the money back and we’ll forget all about it. I thought you’d agreed to the terms – see, on the first page in big letters it says ten per cent. What more do you need to know?’
I panicked. I didn’t have the money to give back to him. I saw him look at his watch – he was obviously in a hurry.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, but I’ve always been told it’s important to read contracts.’
Cameron smiled at me, his head on one side as if he understood my concerns.
‘Okay, not to worry. I’ll be straight with you about the terms, and then you decide whether to sign or to give me the money back. Either is fine, but I don’t have long. We agreed the interest, right?’
I nodded warily.
‘I like to be fair, so the other thing in there you need to be clear about is the charge I have over your assets in the event that you don’t pay me any interest or repay the capital sum.’
My heart was beating faster. I didn’t have any assets – I didn’t own anything other than my books, clothes and my laptop.
‘I appreciate you probably don’t have much in the way of assets right now, so don’t let that bother you. The charge says that future assets are good too. In other words, you can pay me back when you can afford it. Does that seem fair?’
There was something about this I was uncomfortable with, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, and I was feeling so agitated that I simply nodded. The thought of Jagger standing behind me, out of my sight, wasn’t helping my nerves either.
‘And, again to be clear, the agreement states that you came to me and asked for money. I didn’t approach you, and I agreed to the loan on the basis that you are a friend in need of help.’
He was right.
‘Okay. Pen, please, Jagger.’
Cameron scrawled his name and the date, and then passed the pen to me. Every instinct told me not to sign – that I was being rushed and needed to read it – but I didn’t have the money to give back to him and I could cope with the interest payments. I’d worked out how I was going to do that. I didn’t think I had any other option.
I took the pen and added my signature.
Cameron handed the document to Jagger and walked towards the door, squeezing my shoulder as he passed.
‘Well done, Anna. We’ll see you soon.’
It wasn’t long after I had signed the contract – three days, maybe four – that I came to understand everything in the cruellest way possible.
Scott and I had been to the students’ union bar that night for a half of cider for me, a half of bitter for him. I told him it was all we could afford until I had paid Cameron back. He had looked slightly startled but hadn’t argued.
We took the direct route back to my hall of residence – using the back streets even though it was dark, because I felt safe with Scott. I remember we were talking about me getting a job for a couple of evenings a week. I had forgiven Scott for taking the money. He loved his parents; I understood what he had done, and I loved him.
I realised after a few minutes that he had stopped talking and wasn’t really listening to me either. His head was darting from side to side, then he twisted to look behind him.
‘Shh,’ he whispered.
He could hear something that I couldn’t, so I fell quiet and walked on the balls of my feet. Then I heard it too – the sound of heavy breathing, as if someone had been running – but there was no one on the street either in front of us or behind.
I glanced anxiously at Scott, wondering if we should head back to the main road. My heart was beating fast, and I started to walk more quickly – but it was too late. As we passed the cobbled back alley that ran behind the bars and offices of Oxford Road, three figures leaped out of the shadows.
One came for me, grabbing me from behind, clamping a gloved hand over my mouth. I tried to cry out, but I could barely breathe and felt sick with fear. The other two men seized Scott and dragged him into the alley. I felt a knee in the small of my back and a voice said, ‘Move.’
I tried to swivel my head in shock. I was sure I recognised the voice but I had to be wrong. I was pushed into the alley. I struggled, trying to kick out, but the arms holding me felt like steel. I groaned in horror as Scott was thrown to the ground. He brought up his arms to cover his head and curled into a ball. One of the men grabbed his legs and pushed them backwards, leaving his chest and belly unprotected. That was where the kicks landed, one after another. It was the sounds that would haunt me: the hideous thud of boots hitting Scott’s unprotected body; the groans of anguish that burst from his lips; the grunts of exertion from his assailants.
I tried again to break free, but my legs seemed unable to bear my weight, and without the man holding me I would have fallen to the ground. I moaned in despair into the gloved hand.
‘Shut the fuck up, Anna,’ the voice said, and I almost passed out. I was right. I did recognise it. Jagger.
Suddenly it was over. The kicks had stopped and Scott had gone quiet. I thought he was dead. The two men ran back up the alley. Jagger shoved me away and followed them. I collapsed onto my knees on the cobbles, crying out with pain. But my only concern was Scott.
I crawled towards him, sobbing, shouting for help. But no one came.
I reached his side and touched his face. ‘It’s okay, Scott. I’ll call an ambulance and the police. I know who it was. Don’t worry. The police will get them.’
I was struggling to my feet when Scott stretched out a hand. ‘No police, no ambulance. No, Anna. Don’t!’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Why wouldn’t he let me call the police? Those guys were animals.
Slowly he pushed himself up. ‘I’m fine. It was only a kicking – a warning. I’ll be okay.’
‘What are you talking about? Scott, it was Jagger! I recognised his voice.’
‘I know,’ he said, resignation in his voice.
‘Wait till I tell Cameron about this – God knows what he’ll say.’ Even to me my words sounded empty.
Scott’s head turned and his eyes glimmered in a stray beam of moonlight. ‘Who do you think sent him?’
I wanted to be surprised – shocked, even. But strangely I wasn’t. The image of those pale blue eyes that had charmed me flashed into my mind, and they suddenly reminded me of icicles. I felt a rush of shame for my gullibility.
After a moment’s silence I bent towards Scott, putting out a hand to help him to his feet, but he waved me away; he just sat on the cobbles staring at the space between his bent knees.
Finally he raised his head and looked up at me. ‘Do you love me?’
‘Of course.’ And I did. He was my boyfriend and he was hurt. All I wanted to do was take care of him, make whatever was wrong in his life go away.
‘You’re my world, Anna. You know that, don’t you? But I need your help.’ His voice broke on a sob as he wiped cheeks wet with tears with the back of one hand. ‘Please, Anna, I need your help so badly.’
There was no question in my mind. He loved me. He needed me. He was mine – I could feel it – so I listened as he told me the truth about why he had taken the money, and how deep the hole he had dug for himself really was.
Wednesday
25
I can’t remember ever taking a day off due to illness, either real or – as in this case – fake. Dominic looks at me with concern when I return to our bedroom after a shower to say I am staying at home to be with Holly.
‘Whatever for? She’s okay and I’ll be here. If I’m even slightly concerned about her I’ll call you. Honestly, we’ll be fine.’
But Dominic doesn’t know about the photo, evidence that whoever broke into our shed wasn’t there to steal a few screwdrivers and an electric drill. In fact, Dom has already checked and nothing at all seems to be missing, so he now assumes that the burglar was disturbed before he’d had the chance to take anything.
<
br /> I try to smile as I perch myself on the edge of the bed. ‘The doctor said Holly needs a day in bed, so who’s going to look after her while you take Bailey to school?’
I put my head down and rub my wet hair with a towel, not wanting my husband to see the expression in my eyes. It’s now only five days until Monday’s ‘The One That Got Away’ radio broadcast and I may only have a short time before he discovers I’m not who he thinks I am. Where will we all be one week from now if I do nothing?
Dominic takes the towel out of my hand and pulls my head against his hard stomach, rubbing the back of my hair. ‘Bailey having a day off to stay at home with his sister is infinitely more sensible than you pretending to be sick. It’s not like you, and Holly’s fine, you know.’
But I can’t face the day ahead. I’ve brought danger to my family, and Scott has been watching the house, has been in our shed. That’s too close for comfort. I lift my head and go to sit at the dressing table, my back to my husband.
‘I need a few hours of calm after last night. I’ll go in this afternoon. It’ll be fine, honestly. And anyway, Bailey’s only just started at the “big school”, as he calls it. Keeping him home will upset his rhythm. You know that.’
I watch Dominic in the mirror – his brows knitted together, a finger scratching his chin. He looks bemused, but he won’t argue. Instead he comes over and wraps his arms around my shoulders from behind. ‘Whatever works for you. Sorry you’re stressed – it’s a crap way to feel.’
I have to give him more than this. ‘It’s because I wasn’t there for my little girl.’ That part is true. ‘If I’d taken my phone with me, or if I had come back a different way, I could have been there for you both.’ And that part isn’t.
We’re tiptoeing around each other and it feels strained, uncomfortable, as if there is a sheet of glass between us – allowing us to see, but not to touch. He can sense there’s something going on in my head, but he won’t ask. It’s not his way.
The Shape of Lies: New from the queen of psychological thrillers Page 11