Another noise, but she can’t tell if it’s inside or out.
She goes onto the landing. ‘Hello?’ she calls downstairs. ‘Is that you, Spangle?’ She knows there was something but isn’t yet familiar enough with the noises of the house or its surroundings to identify it – a neighbour’s car, the dustbin lorry, nearby building works perhaps.
Spangle is in the hallway, suddenly letting out an excited bark, whining and jumping about just as Jo sees a figure approaching the other side of the old frosted-glass panels in the top half of the door.
A hand is raised and Jo hears the sound of metal on metal. A key being inserted.
Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open.
Christ…
Her heart thumps as she forces her body to work, to quickly get everything back in order as best she can and get out of the room. But she’s frozen, can’t seem to move as she watches the front door slowly open and a small red suitcase being pushed inside, propping it ajar.
Spangle goes wild with excitement now, pawing at the case, jumping up, whining and yapping with his tail barely visible it’s wagging so fast.
‘Yes, yes, hello, boy,’ a female voice says. ‘Just give me a chance to get my things in from the car…’
Christ again, Jo thinks, recognising the voice as she creeps back into the spare room, taking a panicked look around. She fumbles to prop all the photographs up or set them out in the right places, but she can’t remember exactly how they were arranged, didn’t expect to have to do it in a rush. All she can recall is swiping the whole lot on the floor in anger when she saw the makeshift shrine to her missing husband.
Suzanne, Suzanne, Suzanne… she thinks, her foot crunching in some broken glass on the carpet. She stifles a cry as the shard digs into her heel, and her hands are shaking as she puts the pictures back anywhere, picks up the candles and other items, arranging them as best she can. She quickly brushes the small glittery bits of glass towards the edge of the room, gathering up the bigger ones. In a panic, she shoves them under the bed and gives a quick glance in the mirror on the dressing table – three pictures of Will leaning against it, smiling up at her – as she ruffles her hair and wipes her fingers under her eyes. She’s still got yesterday’s make-up smudged on, the eyeliner looking more like extreme exhaustion and her mascara clumpy and flaking onto her cheeks.
‘Hell-ooo…’ she hears from downstairs, followed by the front door banging closed. ‘Anyone home? It’s just me, Suzanne, don’t worry…’
Don’t worry? Jo thinks, silently cursing, hearing Spangle’s frenzy as he gets a big fuss from his owner. As softly as she can, barely able to control her shaking limbs, Jo creeps out of the spare bedroom and pulls the door closed, coughing to cover the sound as the Yale latch clicks into place.
It’s as she’s standing right at the top of the stairs, just as Suzanne looks up at her, that Jo realises the keys she stole from Simon are still on the spare bed, now locked inside the room. And she forgot to lock the second, mortice lock.
‘Oh…’ Jo squeaks, stumbling at the top step. ‘I – I…’ She tries to smile, tries to look normal, but it’s not happening. She takes a step down.
‘Jo…’ Suzanne says, warmly. ‘Hel-lo… I’m so sorry to turn up like this, but…’ She trails off, not explaining why she’s back – rather just staring as Jo hobbles down the stairs, her heel still painful from the glass. She prays she’s not leaving a trail of blood.
‘Hi, yes, hello…’ Jo takes another few steps down, gripping the bannister rail for all she’s worth because without it, she knows she’ll fall. ‘Nice to meet you…’
You’re even more beautiful in real life, I’ll give you that. Will certainly chose someone striking to replace me with…
And as she approaches, faking that she’s pleased to see her, Jo can’t help the glance to the front door, half expecting Will to walk in at any moment. But he doesn’t. Instead, Suzanne touches her head, turns white as a sheet and drops to the tiled floor.
Thirty-One
Jo bolts down the remaining stairs, her legs feeling like jelly. She drops to her knees. ‘Oh my God, Suzanne… can you hear me? Are you OK? Suzanne, wake up… oh, please…’
Suzanne’s head rests on the cold Minton tiles of the hallway, her eyes closed, her mouth slightly open. Spangle paces anxiously around her, letting out subdued whining noises as he nuzzles her hands, then her face. If anyone can bring her round, it’s likely to be him, Jo thinks, as she tries to roll Suzanne over into the recovery position. It was only the suitcase that stopped her head hitting the floor with full force.
Jo heaves her over onto her side, trying to remember what she needs to do – apart from call an ambulance.
Raise her legs above her head, a voice says. Jo glances up to see Will standing above them, his shaved head silhouetted by the light pouring through the stained glass in the door behind him, making him look almost biblical. She’s fainted. You need to get the blood back to her brain. Get her legs up.
‘Yes, yes, you’re right,’ Jo says, suddenly swamped with memories as if she’s somehow living two lives.
The last time she’d seen anyone faint was years ago, at her and Will’s wedding. They’d both heard the thud behind them as the vicar was reading out the vows, each of them looking into the other’s eyes, lightly holding the other’s hands as they carefully repeated what he was saying.
Then the thunk, gasps from the congregation and Jo was suddenly aware of the best man sliding behind them both in the narrow aisle as he acted quickly, getting Louise’s feet up, holding the long skirt of her maid of honour’s dress around her ankles to protect her modesty as he brought the blood back to her head. She and Will let go hands then and, when Will saw what had happened, he pulled off his jacket and bunched it up, placing it under Louise’s head.
Jo had knelt down also, dropping her bouquet to check her friend was OK. ‘Oh, Lou… Lou, are you OK?’ And of course Archie had dashed from his seat on the front pew, started checking her out medically. Her eyes soon opened, blinking up at an experience she later described as like staring into heaven.
‘I do…’ were her first words when she came round properly, after Archie asked if she knew where she was. Louise’s hand had reached out then and grabbed the bride’s bouquet, clutching it to her chest.
Later, at the reception, the guests had chuckled at the impromptu addition to the best man’s speech – about Louise pulling a stunt to be the first to catch the bouquet, that Archie had better step up and pop the question. But the main thing was that Louise was fine. She’d just been on her feet too long, and hadn’t had a chance to eat much because of helping Jo prepare for her big day.
‘Suzanne?’ Jo says now, looking up to Will for guidance. He nods as she lifts her legs, propping them on top of the second, larger suitcase that she’d dragged into the hallway. ‘Can you hear me? Please wake up… Suzanne?’
Suzanne stirs, her head moving from side to side as Jo sees the colour returning to her cheeks. She mumbles something.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ she says, holding the woman’s hand. ‘It’s OK, I’m here, you’re not alone. I think you fainted.’
Another garbled noise comes out of the woman’s mouth and, even though Jo can’t make out the words exactly, she would later swear that Suzanne mumbled, ‘Where’s Will?’
‘What an entrance I made, and how utterly embarrassing.’ Suzanne is on the sofa – the same one that Jo spent most of last night on, clutching Will’s photo. She’s holding her head, shielding her eyes from the sunlight streaming in the window.
‘Oh no, don’t be silly. I’m just glad you feel a bit better. But I really wish you’d let me call an ambulance, or your GP at least. Get yourself checked out.’
‘No, no really,’ Suzanne says immediately. ‘It’s not necessary. I’m quite used to it.’
‘Fainting?’
Suzanne nods as she sips her glass of water. ‘Low blood pressure. And I haven’t eaten all day and had a bit of a
sho— a… a long drive.’
Jo stares at her, gives a little nod. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘Totally. And I’m so sorry for surprising you like this, by coming home. You must think I’m a disaster, booking you in to house-sit for me at the last moment then arriving back early.’
‘Not at all,’ Jo says, though she doesn’t mean it. All she can think about is that she’ll now have to leave before she’s had a chance to find out anything about Will, or why Suzanne has what seems to be a shrine set up to him in a locked room.
A room that you’ve gone and locked the stolen keys inside…
And then there’s Simon.
‘How have the kids been?’ Suzanne says in a silly voice, all the while staring at Jo, her pupils dilating one minute and shrinking to tiny dots the next in the middle of her azure eyes.
She’s very striking, Jo thinks, glancing at Will, who’s standing beside the window, watching on – though not in his usual cocksure pose of arms folded across his chest, chin jutting upwards, legs spread in a confident stance. This time he’s rather stooped. As though he’s concerned, anxious… regretful, almost. There’s certainly something about her, Will… He doesn’t reply.
‘Oh… yes, they’ve been great. Both got their own personalities, for sure.’ On cue, Spangle nuzzles Jo as she sits in the armchair beside Suzanne. ‘I’m going to feel awful leaving you alone like this, so I’ll let Simon know you fainted before I leave, so he can come and check in on you.’
Suzanne sits upright, sloshing some of her water on her chest. ‘No!’ she says, almost sounding panicked. ‘Please, you don’t have to go. Stay. I insist.’
‘But…’ Jo is confused. Suzanne hasn’t explained why she’s come back early, not that she needs to – it’s her house – but now she wants her to stay?
‘I’ll not hear of it. When you first got in touch, you told me you were looking for a break, a little holiday. And now I’ve gone and messed that up. You’re obviously doing a great job around here, and I can see…’ She trails off, watching as Bonnie winds between Jo’s ankles. ‘That the animals love you. Bon-bon is a tricky character. She either loves you or plans a vendetta, usually involving claws.’ Suzanne laughs then, touching her head and wincing. ‘I always get a migraine after fainting. It’s only been happening since…’ She stops then, almost as if she’s forgotten what she was going to say. ‘But look, please stay. Pretend I’m not even here.’
What, while I snoop through all your personal belongings to find out how you know my husband? Jo thinks, wishing she’d just got on with the job sooner. She’d not seen this coming. And she’s not sure she can be civil or polite to her for much longer. But similarly, blurting everything out, grilling her, shaking her, screaming for answers, isn’t going to get her anywhere either – apart from arrested.
‘It’s fine,’ Jo replies, knowing she must head home. It’ll only take me ten minutes to pack and getting away from here is probably the best thing I can do. I’ll call PC Daniels on the way, tell her what I’ve found and then leave it in the hands of the police.
‘But if you’re sure,’ she hears someone saying. Her. She glances behind Suzanne to see Will shaking his head, his eyes slowly rolling, his head dropping. ‘Then it would be lovely to explore the area more and help you out with the animals. Thank you.’
There. It’s done. You’re going to see this through, find out what the hell she knows about Will.
‘Perfect,’ Suzanne says, staring at her from the sofa, where she lies supine. ‘Something tells me we’re going to get along… fine.’ She sits up, slowly swinging her legs over the side. Jo has already noticed that one of her shoes is larger than the other – an odd platform shoe completely different to the expensive pony skin and patent leather designer flat she wears on her right foot. This one’s big and black and laced up. When she stands and walks, Jo spots the limp. ‘Let me get you something to drink. No guest of mine goes neglected, eh Spangie?’ She ruffles the dog’s neck as he follows her out of the living room.
Jo also follows, thinking she should stay close in case Suzanne faints again. She stood up rather quickly and is holding onto the walls as she walks.
‘I left my stick in the car,’ Suzanne says by way of excusing her slow progress, turning slightly, making a sound as if she’s in pain. ‘I hate having to use it.’ Jo doesn’t fail to notice the wince.
Jo, just go home, will you…? Accept that I’m not coming back, that I have a better life now. A different life…
Jo stops, turns, looks around. It wasn’t Suzanne who spoke. And it certainly wasn’t her.
Behind her, Will is following as Suzanne shuffles towards the kitchen. He glares at Jo, shaking his head slowly. And his face is sweaty, making his skin appear darker than ever.
Just like that night after Annabel’s party, when they’d got home and Will had comprehensively messed up the front wing of the car. She’d thought he’d been about to hit her at one point as he’d inspected it, such was his… not rage, exactly, but something close. A cocktail of anger and fear, almost with a splash of relief. Perhaps because the night was over – he’d not wanted her there in the first place. But then she’d smelt the alcohol on his breath.
‘You said you’d drive. That you wouldn’t drink,’ Jo whispered, flicking her eyes down to the damage. She was still shaking from the impact up the road. It could have been so much worse.
Will moved between her and the dent in the front right panel of the car, obliterating her view. ‘Get inside,’ he’d said, thrusting his hand out towards the house.
When Jo had stood her ground, Will had come even closer, his broad shoulders and puffed-up chest looming over her in the dark. She didn’t want the neighbours to hear. She’d taken a step back then but stopped, seeing something in his eyes she’d never seen before; never wanted to see again. And the sweat on his face, each pore exuding something that looked a lot like guilt.
‘Now,’ he’d whispered, though he may as well have yelled it in her face. Jo turned and did as she was told, glancing back over her shoulder as she ran inside. Shortly after, she heard the front door open, then noises in the understairs cupboard. When she peeked through the curtains, she saw him outside at the car again, armed with rags and cleaning spray, watching as he tried to tap out the dents with a small wooden mallet they’d bought from a campsite last summer for hammering in the tent pegs when the ground was hard as concrete.
Just go home… Jo hears again, startling her as she follows Suzanne into the kitchen. Once inside, Jo swings round and firmly shuts the door in Will’s face, screaming No a thousand times in her head.
Thirty-Two
Then
‘The show must go on, eh?’ Louise said.
I pulled on my coat. ‘Man flu, if you ask me,’ I replied, laughing. ‘The pair of them.’ I rolled my eyes.
Will had been at the theatre since just before lunch to get ready for the matinee. He’d called me not long after it had finished, asking me to bring in more medication when I came to watch the evening performance. He’d been coming down with something since about a week ago and it had finally taken hold.
‘“I feed dike shit,”’ I mimicked in a stuffed-up cold voice. ‘Not great for performing, true, but he’s dosed up on decongestant. I know he was putting it on for my benefit, anyway. Probably wants a massive pity lie-in tomorrow. He didn’t seem too bad this morning, and I’ve not caught anything.’
‘Archie’s virtually dying,’ Louise said, following me out to the car after I’d swiped up my bag and keys. ‘I left him on the sofa with some chicken broth and a bottle of Night Nurse,’ she said as she got in and buckled up. ‘Though no doubt when I get back I’ll find him several shots of whiskey down, a pizza delivery box on his chest and porn on his laptop.’
‘Really?’ I said, glancing across at Louise as I drove off in the direction of the theatre. ‘Does he do that?’
‘What, order pizza?’ Louise nudged me gently, giving me a sideways wink.
&nb
sp; ‘Watch porn.’
Louise laughed. ‘Duh.’
Silence for a moment as I concentrated on the road, navigating a tricky junction.
‘I’d hate that. Will watching that stuff. I think it’s as bad as cheating.’
‘Archie knows that he can look but can’t touch.’
‘Doesn’t that make him want to touch, though?’ I sighed, tapping my finger on the wheel as we waited at the lights. ‘My mother says men always want to push one step further, take things they shouldn’t to the next level. Hence me making my dislike of porn to Will quite clear from the get-go. His “one step further” would therefore be watching it. If he’s already watching it, then one step further is what? Strip clubs? Private dances? Prostitutes? Anyway, apart from anything, I think it’s degrading to women.’
‘Jo, Jo… stop, my love. You’re going to drive yourself crazy thinking like that.’ Louise couldn’t help the laugh. ‘And you got this from your mum?’ She paused, shaking her head, an incredulous smile on her face. Louise knew what my mother was like – not that my father had ever given Mum any need to worry. The poor man wouldn’t dare put a foot wrong.
‘Trust me,’ Louise went on. ‘Will has his eyes on two prizes in life and, from where I’m standing, neither of them is porn. One prize is called Joanne Carter and the other is called his acting career. And trust me again, as one of your oldest and bestest mates, I know when you’re about to descend into one of your “overthinking” sessions, and tonight isn’t the time. Let’s have a wonderful evening watching Will dance about onstage in his Shakespearean tights, or whatever he’s going to be wearing, and then enjoy the after-party. Deal?’
‘Deal,’ I said, suddenly feeling less anxious. Either way, I wished I could be as laid-back in my relationship as Louise and Archie were. They’d only been married a year less than me and Will (Archie taking his cue at our wedding after Louise fainted, proposing to her that very evening at the reception during a slow dance), and their seven years, compared to our eight, somehow still seemed as if they were in the first throes of a relationship. Perhaps it was all the stress of trying to conceive getting in the way. Overshadowing everything. Of feeling like the biggest failure on earth.
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 17