Ten years earlier
I hate Ella Tate more than I’ve ever hated anyone or anything in the whole world. She’s told Dad about us. Of course, he never said it was her, but I know it was.
Shane had been coming to mine in the evenings. It made perfect sense. Dad never comes upstairs when he’s working. He prefers to let me do my own thing, which is Dad-speak for ignoring me. We’d been dead careful, and there’s only one possible way Dad could have found out about it. Ella.
Six nights ago, Shane was sneaking downstairs on his way home and Dad was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. He went mental. I haven’t seen Shane since. College has broken up for the summer, and I’m grounded. Not allowed to leave the flat, even to go to the shops.
I’ve heard Dad and Roxanne talking. Roxanne’s told Dad he shouldn’t be too hard on me.
‘She’s only seventeen, Gus. Poor girl’s going to mess up every once in a while. You need to let her make her own mistakes. I know it’s not easy for you and I know you’re doing what you think is right. But she’s not a kid any longer and you can’t ignore that. No matter how much you want to.’
Dad told her it was none of her business how he chose to raise his daughter. Roxanne left soon after that. I keep hoping she’ll find time to sneak up and see me, but so far that hasn’t happened. We used to get on really well. Before Ella took her away from me. When I started college, Roxanne spent an afternoon with me showing me how to put on make-up and giving me suggestions for how to wear my hair. She even took me shopping for clothes once. That was when I was still fat, so it wasn’t the best day out. I hated buying clothes then.
I’ve texted Shane loads of times but he hasn’t been in touch. I don’t understand what he’s playing at. I know my dad was a pig to him, but it’s not like that’s my fault. I’ve told him I’m grounded. Maybe that was a mistake. He probably thinks there’s no point getting in touch if he can’t see me.
I’m really starting to lose it when, out of the blue, I get an idea. It’s sort of crazy, but I’m so desperate I’ll try pretty much anything. The idea starts with Ella. I’m lying on the sofa, looking at Shane’s Facebook, scrolling through his posts and his list of friends, wondering what he’s up to right now.
I look for Ella’s account as well, but she’s either blocked me or deleted her account, because I can’t find her anywhere. I know Shane used to be friends with her, but that was ages ago. He told me he’d blocked her because she was hassling him and sending him these really abusive messages. I knew he was lying, but I didn’t say anything because he would have got angry with me, and that’s the last thing I’d have wanted.
Now, I can’t stop thinking about it. How he wouldn’t look at me when he was telling me he’d blocked her. The way he talked about her when we were first together, as if he couldn’t think about anything else. Her face when she saw him in the pub that first time. I close my eyes and I see her walking into the tunnel beneath Hither Green train station. And I see him trailing after her.
I never asked him what happened that day or why he followed her. He has no idea I saw them together. All I wanted to do was forget about it. But I can’t forget. It’s like a worm eating through the inside of my head, growing bigger and stronger the more it eats until there’s nothing else left except a swirling mess of pictures that are all Ella and Shane. And in that kaleidoscope of images, there’s no room for anyone else. Especially not me.
I try to remember all the times I’ve been with him and all the moments we’ve shared, but they slither and slide out of reach like tiny shards of ice melting and disappearing to nothing.
In a flash, my head clears and I know exactly what I need to do. The sick feeling in my stomach has gone, replaced by something hard and heavy, and I think this pain – this excruciating agony – will never leave me.
Setting up a fake BBM account is easy. I write down Shane’s phone number before I start. Then I reset my BlackBerry to factory settings and start from scratch. I set up a new BBM account, and call myself EllaT995. I’ve lost my other contacts, but I don’t care about that. It’s not like anyone ever sends me messages anyway.
I send Shane a request to be one of my contacts. While I’m waiting for him to reply, I scroll through the photos of Ella I have on my computer. I’ve got lots of them. I took them from her Facebook page before she blocked me. Stupid cow. If she didn’t want me sending her that stuff, she should have kept away from my boyfriend. I stop at one of the photos. In it, her face is turned sideways, away from the camera, and she’s wearing her hair in a long plait over her left shoulder. She could be anyone in that photo. She could even be me.
I’m thinking about this, how alike we look now, when my BlackBerry pings. It’s Shane, confirming my request. It’s taken him less than five minutes to reply. A bit different to six days of silence. The anger abates, replaced by a giddy, excited feeling. My thumbs start moving.
Hey, Shane. Sorry everything got so heavy between us. Think we can be friends again? X
He replies right away. One word that tells me all I need to know.
Sure.
There’s an ache between my legs that reminds me of sex. I have to press my legs tightly together, but that doesn’t work, so I put my hand down there. Push it against myself while I think of what Ella’s going to tell him next.
Twenty-Seven
Dee
Hate was a powerful motivator. In the days following Billy’s visit, Dee wallowed in hatred. She went back obsessively over every single thing he’d done to hurt her, all the missed dates, forgotten special occasions, the nights he’d fallen asleep downstairs instead of coming to bed with her, the nights he hadn’t come home at all. The children he’d persuaded her she didn’t want. The lies he’d told and the many, many ways he’d hurt her. She hated until her body ached from it and she felt as if something dark and rotten was growing inside her.
‘It’s not healthy,’ Louise said when Dee tried to explain it to her. ‘Your marriage is over; your divorce is final. It’s time to let it go, Dee.’
Dee knew Louise wouldn’t understand. How could she? Louise with her perfect children and her sensible husband who adored her and bought her jewellery and nice holidays and remembered their wedding anniversaries and the children’s birthdays and… and…
She looked Billy up on the internet. Everything she read confirmed what she’d already worked out. His star was very much in the descendant. All that promise and talent, thrown away for the sake of one more drink. Always one more with Billy. One more, one for the road, one last round, until all the drink was gone and all the people who’d ever cared about him were gone too.
Over the last three years, he’d gone from being the Daily Post’s number-one journalist, front-page stories week after week, to a hack with the occasional byline in the weekend papers. Nothing solid from him in years. No wonder Nigel had finally lost patience.
And now he thought he could piggyback on this tragedy and use it to turn his failing career around. He wanted the story and thought he could use Dee to get to it. Over her dead body.
Brian Higgins, the guy from the Bristol Uni Facebook group, had finally replied to the messages Dee had sent him.
Sorry, he wrote. Thought I had Tom’s email but I appear to have lost it. I’d prefer it if you didn’t contact me again.
When Dee tried to reply, her message didn’t go through. Brian Higgins had blocked her from contacting him. Which made her curious. She wanted to know what could have happened to change his mind so quickly.
As it turned out, she didn’t need Brian’s help. Ten minutes searching through Facebook profiles and she found a Tom Doyle who’d graduated from Bristol University in 2013. She sent him a friend request and a message, telling him she was a friend of Ella’s and needed to speak to her urgently. She gave her email address and phone number and told him he could contact her any time. She didn’t mention Katie, thinking she’d wait first to see if he replied to her message. So far, she’d heard nothing from
him. Either he didn’t go on Facebook very often, or he didn’t want to help.
On Monday morning, Leonard called. Finally. Dee had left four messages for him and was starting to think he was trying to avoid her.
‘You asked about Roxanne,’ he said. ‘What’s got you so interested in her all of a sudden?’ He sounded defensive. And decidedly less friendly than the last time they’d spoken.
‘You told me she’d died?’ Dee said.
Leonard coughed; a prolonged business that went on for some time.
‘And?’ he said when he was able to speak again.
‘There were two witnesses at Gus Hope’s murder trial,’ Dee said. ‘Ella Tate and Roxanne Reed. I think the dead girl might be Ella. If it is, that means both of the witnesses are dead.’
‘What makes you think the dead girl is Ella?’
‘A hunch,’ Dee admitted. ‘A pretty dodgy one at that. The detective leading the investigation has told me it’s not her. But I can’t shake this feeling that maybe he’s wrong.’
‘And you’re thinking that if it is Ella,’ Leonard said, ‘and if it turns out that Roxanne’s death was mysterious as well, then you could be on to something.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but your theory’s all wrong, love. I told you already – Roxanne died years ago. While Shane Gilbert was still locked up.’
‘How did she die?’ Dee asked. ‘Do you know?’
‘Cancer.’
‘You stayed in touch with her? After the trial?’
‘Why would I do that?’ Leonard said. ‘Nah, I only found out she’d died when I went to write a follow-on piece a few years later. Where are they now? That sort of thing. I tried to track her down and found out she’d died soon after the trial.’
‘What about Ella?’ Dee asked.
‘Didn’t bother looking for her. Without Roxanne, my editor decided it wasn’t much of a story. I gave up the idea and that was the end of it. Maybe you should think about doing the same, love.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you’re trying to find connections that aren’t there. Someone drove into that poor girl and killed her. End of. It’s sad but it’s got nothing to do with what happened to Gus Hope.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Dee said. ‘Thanks, Leonard.’
‘Not a problem. And don’t forget you still owe me that pint, all right?’
‘I won’t forget.’
She said goodbye and hung up. Leonard’s insistence that there was nothing connecting the dead girl and Gus Hope hadn’t worked. All he’d done was make Dee more convinced she was on to something.
She called Ed, said she had something to tell him. Instead of asking her to come to the station, he suggested meeting at the Beach Deck, the closest seafront bar to Dee’s house, later that afternoon.
He was already there when she arrived. Sitting at an outside table, a glass of Coke in his hands.
‘Coke Zero,’ he explained once they’d got the greetings out of the way and he’d offered to get her a drink and she’d said no, she was fine, thanks. ‘I’m a bit addicted.’
‘There are worse addictions,’ Dee said, thinking of Billy.
‘So,’ Ed said. ‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about?’
‘My ex-husband came to see me. He was looking for information on Katie.’
‘Don’t tell me,’ Ed said. ‘He’s a journalist too, and he’s hoping for some sort of exclusive.’
‘How did you know that?’
‘I know your ex is a journalist. Lou mentioned it.’
‘Louise?’ Dee scowled. ‘What was she doing gossiping to you about my private life?’
‘Small talk,’ Ed said. ‘Not gossip. There’s a difference. What did your ex have to say about Katie?’
‘He said she was hiding something. “A big secret” were his exact words, I think.’
‘Don’t suppose he told you what that secret happened to be?’ Ed said. Then, when Dee shook her head, ‘Didn’t think so.’
‘There is something else, though you probably know this already; it’s about Katie’s dad.’
‘Gus Hope,’ Ed said. ‘What about him?’
‘The guy who was convicted of killing him – Shane Gilbert. I found out that he was released from prison around the same time Katie moved here. Billy – my ex – is full of shit, but he has good reason to believe she was hiding something. I’m sure it’s all connected somehow.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Not quite,’ Dee said. ‘Billy told me the wrong person was convicted for Gus Hope’s murder.’
‘He has evidence of this?’ Ed asked.
‘I think he’s been speaking to Shane Gilbert.’
‘You wouldn’t try anything stupid like that, would you?’
‘Of course not,’ Dee said. ‘What do you take me for?’
‘You need to be careful. This is a criminal investigation. If you do anything to mess it up, you could be in serious trouble.’
‘All I’m doing is trying to help you find Jake and Katie. That doesn’t give you the right to accuse me of interfering with your precious police work.’
Ed took a sip of Coke. ‘You’re living out here on the coast, all alone in that big house. I’m guessing you’re more than a bit bored. Katie was your friend, and you’re missing her. I’m sure you’re sick with worry about Jake as well. So you’ve taken it on yourself to try to solve this case before anyone else. You’re a clever woman, Dee. I’ve read some of the stuff you’ve done in the past. It’s good. I don’t understand why you haven’t gone back to your old job, but that’s none of my business. What would upset me, though, is if you somehow thought you’re better placed to solve this case than the entire East Sussex police force.’
‘That’s not what I’m doing,’ Dee said. A lie, but his accusation hurt, and it was all too easy to transfer some of her anger at Billy to this arrogant man sitting across from her.
Ed pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘Maybe not. And if I’m wrong, I apologise.’
He stared down at her. The sun was behind him, so she couldn’t see his face, and she was glad of that.
‘But I’m not wrong,’ he said. ‘Am I?’
She looked away, refusing to answer.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘That’s all I’m asking, Dee. If you keep going with this, you’ll make a fool of yourself. Believe it or not, I really wouldn’t want that to happen.’
He stayed where he was, but when she didn’t say anything, he sighed and walked away. When she looked up again, he was gone. The empty glass on the table was the only sign he’d ever been there at all.
Twenty-Eight
Katie
Ten years earlier
We’ve got quite a thing going on BBM, me and Shane. Only of course it’s not me really. He thinks I’m Ella and I can’t believe the things he’s telling me. Telling her, I mean. He never really cared about me. With every single message he sends, I hate him more and more. The feelings I had for him are as strong as they’ve ever been, but they’re the reverse of what they used to be. Love turned to hate.
He’s told me the police questioned him about Ella’s dog. And he’s promised me it wasn’t him. He says he’d never do something like that. I tell him it’s okay, I believe him, and he’s pathetically grateful.
We’re on BBM the whole time. He can’t stop. Neither can I. This is what it’s like to be an addict. My phone pings each time I get a new message. My every waking moment revolves around these pinging sounds until this is the only thing that’s real and the gaps between me sending him a message and his reply are an empty agony.
It was his fault they split up the last time, apparently. He two-timed her and she found out about it. He begged her to take him back, but she wouldn’t. At least I understand now why she didn’t want to see him when he started showing up at the pub. He tells me – her – all the time how sorry he is, how he’ll never do anything like that again.
She works two afternoons each week and three evenings, including Sunday. It needs to happen on a Sunday, the only night Dad’s not here. He’s never back before midnight, and when he does come home, he goes straight upstairs to bed.
I’ve asked Roxanne where he goes but she says she has no idea.
‘It’s his business what he gets up to in his spare time,’ she said. ‘Not mine.’
It makes me sad when I think about my dad having a secret life I know nothing about. But when my phone pings, I realise everyone has a secret life. That’s how the world is. People pretending on the surface to be one thing when beneath it they’re someone else entirely.
Like Mum. She pretended to be happy with me and Dad, but she wasn’t happy at all, was she? She was so miserably unhappy that she went out drinking with people she didn’t even know, and we never saw her again.
Come on, baby. I need to see you.
He’s starting to sound like a child. A needy, pathetic child who’s used to getting his own way. Which, when you think about it, is pretty much exactly what he is.
I feel the same, I lie-type into my phone. I need more time. You know what a cow my mum is.
Truthfully, I have no idea what sort of woman Ella’s mother is. She might be the nicest person in the world. But it makes me feel better pretending she’s a bitch, because I like putting a bit of misery into Ella’s perfect fucking life. Even if it’s true and her mother is horrible, at least she still has a mother, which is more than you can say for me.
Maybe I could hook up with you after you finish work some evening? How would she ever find out?
I wonder if he means coming here, to the pub. And if he’s given a thought to what that would be like for me.
What about Katie? I type back.
He replies right away. What about her?
I watch the words, willing them to change, waiting for him to say something else. But nothing happens. I cross my arms around my body, holding myself tight so I don’t fall apart. My ribs feel like bony fingers. I’ve lost more weight. The other day, Roxanne told me I needed to be careful I didn’t get too skinny. I bet no one’s ever told Ella Tate she shouldn’t let herself get too skinny. People only ever say shit like that to people who are trying to lose weight.
I Could Be You Page 15