The Love Trap: an unputdownable psychological thriller

by Caroline Goldsworthy

  ‘No, I didn’t. I checked my emails. I don’t remember sending the mail, but Topher said I was so out of it when I was in hospital, I could have sent anything and not remember it later.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound very plausible thought, does it?’ She cradled her elbow in her left hand, the glass tapping her lips. ‘Go on, what else?’

  ‘Okay, so, I managed to persuade the builders to come back and Mr Yates comes and talks me every day before he goes home. I don’t understand it. I’ve never ever worked on something as complicated as this. It just seemed to be one problem after another. I placed an order for some of the stuff he asked me to and it didn’t arrive on the day and, when we checked, the order had been cancelled. It just keeps happening. I don’t know what’s going on. I just feel like there’s two of me. One’s doing one thing and the other one is doing everything she can to mess me up. I’m going out of my mind!’

  ‘Well you’ve always had your fair share of problems, haven’t you? I mean trouble seems to seek you out,’ said Stephanie, her brows furrowed. ‘Remember the time you were so stressed out we skived off and went to Ibiza for a week.’

  ‘How could I forget,’ I said, but frowned, as there were some things from that week, I’d rather forget. ‘This is different, though. I remember ordering things. I don’t remember cancelling the orders.’

  What more have you heard about the assault case?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘And you’re sure you stopped the medication?’

  I swallowed, as she looked at me.

  ‘You haven’t stopped taking those bloody tablets, have you?’ she said.

  I bit my lip. ‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t.’

  ‘Well you need to stop, Lily. You do know how addictive they are, don’t you?’ she told me. ‘You really must stop. It’s no wonder you have no idea what you’ve been up to if you’re out of your mind on drugs all the time?’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘Where are they?’ she said.

  I nodded to the bedside cabinet and she opened it. ‘These ones,’ she said, holding up the bottle.

  I nodded again. I was surprised to see how few were left. I was sure I hadn’t taken that many.

  ‘You know, I’m tempted to take them with me, and make you go cold turkey.’

  I sighed and glared at her. ‘You know you’re such a bitch sometimes,’ I said, but I raised my tooth glass to her in a toast and sipped some of the gin. ‘But not all the time,’ I grinned.

  ‘It’s for your own good, Lily. You’re not going to get better if you’re drugged up all of the time. It just causes its own set of problems.’

  ‘Yes, you’re right,’ I replied. ‘I’ll try to do better. Anyway enough of me. What are you doing about your stalker?’

  ‘Bloody man. I called the police as you told me to do. Now I’ve taken out an injunction against him and he still hasn’t stopped. But he has got cleverer.’

  ‘Cleverer how?’

  ‘He’s using burner phones to contact me. As soon as I block a number, he gets another phone.’

  ‘Is he still following you?’

  ‘I think so. I feel like I’m being watched all the time, but I’ve not actually seen him recently. I just feel like he’s there. All the bloody time.’

  For a long time after Stephanie had left, I stayed in bed, my head spinning. I needed to talk to someone, someone who would believe me. The same person who’d warned me about Topher and to whom I’d refused to listen. I picked up my mobile and scrolled to his number, and then scrolled past it and back again. Sod it! I muttered.

  I hit the green icon and waited.

  After a few rings, a voice answered. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Dad?’ I said. ‘I need you.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lily

  I kept my promise to Stephanie and stopped taking the medication. I didn’t ask the GP for a repeat prescription. My mind was clearer, and with that, the progress on the building in the garden made headway. There were no more delays and Heather, with the help of Mr Yates, supported me on the stairs so I could see the finished work in the garden for myself.

  Mr Yates held my elbow as I stepped into the room, which was going to be Topher’s new office. I was delighted by the standard of workmanship. I felt like giving him a huge hug for the work he’d done, but as I lumbered towards him, he stepped back in shock.

  ‘I appreciate your faith in me, Mrs Gundersen,’ he said. ‘Especially after our little misunderstanding. Now listen, Mr Gundersen asked me to make sure there was only one set of keys to the office. He didn’t mind about the garage, but he was quite insistent there was only one lot of keys for his office. But locks always come with two sets, so I’m giving this bunch to you for safekeeping should his key ever get lost or anything. That way you won't need to call out a locksmith. You can just keep them in the house tucked away somewhere.’

  I nodded, thanked him, and slipped them into my jacket pocket. He helped me back into the house and supported me as I hobbled back up the stairs to my prison.

  I did have a little excitement, whilst stuck in the house. The only day of escape I had was when I was called to the police station to give a formal interview with DC Jones and her senior officer.

  She introduced herself as Detective Inspector Anita Blaine. She was a slim fair-haired woman, who looked at me severely as I hobbled into the room. When I was settled, she read me the standard caution and took me through the day of the accident. I related my story to her as I had to Denise Jones and to Stephanie a few weeks earlier.

  It was clear from the expression on her face that she didn’t believe me. And when she brought the interview to a close, I asked if I could ask a question.

  ‘Go ahead,’ she said, one eyebrow slightly raised and a confused expression on her face.

  ‘I wanted to ask about the allegations made against me on the day of the accident. The school have never come back to me with any evidence.’

  She frowned at me and turned to DC Jones, giving her a quizzical look.

  DC Jones said, ‘Yes Guv do you remember I was beginning to look into it whilst we were gathering evidence for the manslaughter charges.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. What came of it?’ DI Blaine snapped.

  ‘Nothing guv,’ replied DC Jones. ‘I contacted the school and they told me they weren’t going to press charges.’

  ‘What?’ I looked at my solicitor. ‘Did you know anything about this?’

  His eyes widened as he removed a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his face, before moving his chair a little further from mine. ‘No, I’ve not been advised of anything related to the assault charges. I thought your husband was handling that himself, Mrs Gundersen?’

  ‘First I’ve heard of it,’ I said. ‘So, you mean the entire case was… It was a lie? It was some kind of sick joke?’ I put my hands on the table, wishing I’d been able to stand up and thump it loudly.

  ‘I… I honestly don't know,’ replied DC Jones. ‘I haven't been into the school to speak to the headmaster to discuss it with him.’

  ‘I see,’ said DI Blaine. ‘I think perhaps we ought to pay the headmaster a visit and find out a little more about these claims. However,’ she turned to me, ‘it would appear, Mrs Gundersen that you have got off scot-free with it. Don’t expect to get away scot-free with the manslaughter charge. We will look into your claims. Be assured we will be investigating them.’

  She frowned and turned to DC Jones. ‘DJ, did we get the CCTV footage?’

  ‘I’m not sure Guv, I'll have to look into it myself. I’m certain I haven't seen a report on it, though.’

  ‘Okay,’ DI Blaine said, ‘make sure you get onto it ASAP.’ She glared at me. ‘We’ll be in touch, Mrs Gundersen.’

  I held her gaze. ‘And the lorry driver?’

  DI Blaine looked sharply at DC Jones. ‘Which lorry driver would that be?’

  DC Jones looked troubled. ‘Umm, this is from the preliminary conversation I ha
d with Mrs Gundersen when she was in hospital. I did give you my report.’

  My solicitor leaned forward, ‘and which preliminary conversation would that be?’ he said. ‘There’s nothing about this in the disclosure.’

  I put a hand on his arm. ‘Don't worry Peter, it was all above board. I had Stephanie Silcott with me.’

  ‘I see,’ he said in a voice that expressed the fact he didn’t see at all. ‘I did not realise Ms Silcott had been asked to be your legal representative. Will you still be requiring my services?’

  ‘Of course, Peter. Stephanie was just doing me a favour. We had a conversation. Stephanie took notes. DC Jones took notes. It was to help her progress the investigation without an interview like this one. My doctor had just given the all-clear for a chat. I wasn't able to come into the station at the time.’

  Peter Robinson sighed. ‘I will expect DC Jones to have all of your notes from the conversation.’ He then looked at me, ‘and you Mrs Gundersen, I will expect you to ask Ms Silcott to supply me with her notes too. Now,’ he said. ‘What about this lorry driver? I’ve heard no mention of a lorry driver before, so who are we talking about?’

  ‘The one I mentioned just now. He saw everything. Have you been able to trace him?’

  ‘Yes, he’s called Vinnie Craycroft, but he’s still in hospital,’ replied DC Jones. ‘When you crashed, his lorry went over, and it jack-knifed on the southbound side. He’s been in a coma for a while and he still is. I am in constant touch with the hospital, just to see how he’s progressing. They have promised they will let me know as soon as he wakes so I can interview him’

  ‘So Mrs Gundersen,’ DI Blaine fixed her baby blue eyes on me and for a moment I returned to my own school days when my headmistress was able to reduce me to jelly with one single stare. ‘It would appear we don’t have all of the evidence we need to charge you at this time, so you are free to go. Please don't leave the area without letting me know.’

  ‘I’d like to visit my father.’

  ‘How far away does he live?’

  ‘He lives in Cheshire. He moved there after my…’

  ‘Then no, you may not go to visit your father, unless you let me know in advance. When you’re leaving, and when you will be returning.

  ‘Mr Robinson, your client may not leave the country either. I would suggest she surrenders her passport.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re being reasonable, DI Blaine, said Peter Robinson. ‘You can’t ask that unless you’ve charged her.’ He made a note on his legal pad. As the recording device was switched off, he closed his folder and he looked at me too, reminding me again of my headmistress. I felt as if I was always in trouble. I was always disappointing someone.

  I struggled to my feet. Peter Robinson helped me and held the door open for me. As I stepped into the corridor, I saw waiting for me, the person I disappointed most of all.

  Topher.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lily

  After the police interview, I remained trapped in the master suite. My contact with the outside world was limited as Mummy insisted, I needed to rest and not spend all my time online. However, she soon relented after she’d run up and downstairs with my phone and laptop a few times. It wasn’t a huge victory in the grand scheme of things, but it made me feel better.

  I exchanged a few texts with Stephanie who promised to find out as much as she could about the assault allegations. If David Jacobs thought he could sack me and later withdraw the allegations without reinstating me, he had another think coming.

  Topher was working more from his garden office, rather than spending late nights at chambers. James was delighted to have him at home as I wasn’t mobile. Increasingly Darcy wanted to be upstairs with me and had to be carried downstairs to play in the garden. Topher was less delighted, especially at the noise they often made.

  When I could steer my wheelchair close to the window, I propped myself up so I could see his office. He kept the blinds down and I couldn’t see in. Stephanie’s words began to haunt me, and I started to wonder what he was up to in there.

  As I eased myself back into the chair and I did the wheelchair version of pacing the room, Heather popped her head around the door.

  ‘I’ve brought you a coffee and the post,’ she said. ‘How are you getting on up here?’

  I twisted in the chair to face her, and spread my hands palms upwards to indicate the mess that was now my life.

  ‘I need to get out of this room,’ I told her.

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I talked to Mr Gundersen and he said he’d carry you down after lunch.’

  ‘That’s great news.’ I said. I wheeled the chair back towards the bed and got myself out. I’d become quite adept at manoeuvring myself. I smiled thinking my left leg was stronger than it’s ever been.

  Once I got myself sorted, Heather tucked me in, fussed with my pillows and handed me the post.

  ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she said, placing my coffee within reach before she left me alone.

  I flicked through the envelopes: most of it seemed to be junk mail, circulars, or bills, which were already covered by direct debit. One envelope stood out though. It was made of a heavier weight paper than the flimsy, cheap envelopes from the circulars. I flipped it over and saw it was from a firm of solicitors. Their crest and address was embossed on the back of the envelope. I checked the addressee and, with trembling fingers, I ripped it open.

  I’d hoped the assault allegations had been dropped and now, I was horrified, as I believed that I would be called to account for my actions.

  Skim reading the letter I was puzzled to discover it was in relation to damage to a car, so I started at the beginning and read the letter more carefully. Once I’d read it three more times, confusion began to lift and I picked up my smart phone.

  ‘Stephanie sweetie,’ I said. ‘It’s me, Lily. I’ve had a letter about car hire. A Range Rover. Hired on the same day as my accident. Could you come round on Saturday? Maybe take me out for lunch?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said.

  I let out a long breath, put the phone down, picked up the letter, and read it through once more.

  I pushed the bed covers back, eased myself into a sitting position and reached to my bedside cabinet for my laptop.

  Logging on, I tapped in the password for my credit card, paged back through the statements until I came to the one I was looking for. I picked up the letter once more and checked the name of the vendor against the name in the letter. I already knew they would match, but I had to be sure. What the hell was going on? I downloaded a PDF of the statement onto my hard drive, put the letter back in its envelope and tucked it under the mattress.

  Saturday morning was bright and beautiful. A fantastic autumn day, full of rich colours in the trees. I was able to get myself to the wet room and have a shower, sitting on the fold-down seat which Topher laughingly installed for our old age. Reluctantly he helped me dress and supported me hobbling downstairs. I was surprised he was letting me leave the house without supervision, but I didn’t question my good fortune. At least being injured stopped him from inflicting more damage.

  In my handbag, now sitting on my knee, I had my smart phone. I was glad I’d taken a photograph of the letter and I had the PDF credit card statement stored on my phone. I’d looked everywhere for the envelope and the letter, which I’d tucked carefully under the mattress. I’d even tried to drag the bed halfway across the bedroom to look underneath it. Anger gave me additional strength and I tugged at the mattress, falling several times before I finally removed it from its platform. I shook the sheets, the duvet, and the pillows. The letter and its envelope were nowhere to be seen. I knew I’d had them; I had the photos as evidence. I knew I wasn’t going mad. Where the hell were they? I sat in the middle of the floor and sobbed. Mummy, having heard the noise, rushed into the room. She looked shocked. Topher appeared behind her. He smiled at me and, suddenly, everything fell into place.

  Stephanie arrived in a
flurry of expensive perfume and a beautifully fitted pair of jeans. They looked tailored and I sighed. I could no longer wear clothes like that. Even if I could, Topher wouldn’t approve and would insist I changed. Between them, she and Topher eased me into the taxi. In all honesty I’d worried how I was going to get from the wheelchair into her low-slung BMW and flashed her a smile of gratitude that she had clearly thought about the logistics of transporting me. We sat back in the taxi and Stephanie buckled me in, whilst she told the driver to take us to The Flask at Highgate. At the end of our journey, I impressed her with how much stronger I’ve got and I got myself out of the car and into the wheelchair. She applauded my efforts and I gave her a huge smile. There were going to be tears soon enough.

  When we were shown in into the restaurant she refused wine for herself, but encouraged me and then she fixed me with a beady stare and said, ‘So, come on Lily. What’s all this about?’

  I took a deep breath before I answered. ‘We’ve been friends a long time, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘Lily, tell me, why the secret assignation?’

  ‘After my accident. Topher trapped in my bedroom,’ I began.

  ‘Oh come on darling, you were hardly trapped.’

  ‘I was trapped. It gave me some thinking time going to go through everything.’ I paused for a moment, wondering whether, when I told her, it would sound as crazy as it did in my head. ‘You know when I told you the builders were cancelled?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Well I checked my bank statement at the time. And then I checked mine and our joint credit card statements.’

  Stephanie looked at me with a grin. ‘So you do check up on him, then?’

  ‘This is serious. A few days ago I had a letter.’

  ‘You’re making this all sound very mysterious,’ Stephanie paused to sip her sparkling water.