by Lisa Hall
‘When was this?’ That creeping sense of unease is back, prickling its way along my spine and round towards my heart, a cold fist closing over it. ‘I mean, how soon after the build was finished?’
‘Maybe a week or so?’ Nick rubs a hand over his forehead. ‘I’m pretty sure it wasn’t very long because we’d just had everything signed off. She – Caroline? Christina? Sorry, I can’t remember her name – she said she wanted to have a party to celebrate. She invited us, me and the wife.’ He laughs, as if embarrassed by the thought. ‘We didn’t go, though. They were all a bit too upmarket for us, and anyway I don’t mix business with pleasure.’ Dropping a lazy wink, he grins to show he doesn’t mean any offence.
‘So, you went back after the party and put the second soakaway in?’
‘That’s right. A couple of days after the party, if that. It took us a couple of days, but the fella said he’d pay us double if we could fit him in and get it done ASAP.’ He looks at me quizzically. ‘Are you all right? You look a bit peaky.’
I swallow, unable to take my eyes off the spot on the drawing where the soakaway lies. ‘Yes,’ I manage, ‘I’m fine. Thank you so much for your help. That explains a lot.’
‘Well, if you want me to come back and see about where you can put the pool in without digging up the drainage then I’d be happy to help.’ Nick is guiding me towards the front door, and I am only too happy to leave, keen to get out into the fresh air and process what I’ve discovered.
‘No, it’s OK. Honestly. I won’t keep you anymore.’ I wait as he jumps into his truck and gives me a wave as he drives off, before I turn towards the bus station and head back to the house.
I stand in the garden, almost mesmerised by the thick, lush grass that marks where the soakaways are, my stomach swirling uncomfortably at the idea that Caro has never been far from the house this entire time. I turn back towards the house, slowly walking through and letting my eyes roam over the large kitchen with Caro’s fancy American fridge and the Aga that I can never get to work as I’d like it to, the sitting room with its designer furniture and cosy feel, up the stairs to the bedrooms, all such a contrast to the damp, dingy flat I shared with Mags.
I should have done what I was meant to do, that first time I came to the house for a job interview. I wasn’t supposed to get attached to Rupert. I never get attached, not after growing up with a mother like mine. I walk into the spare room, the one Rupert uses as a study, and lay the plans on his desk before turning my attention to the safe. Poor Caro. It feels strange to be feeling sympathy for a woman who, not so long ago, I was convinced was still alive and tormenting me. Now, I am certain that Caro is dead, that she died the night of the party, but only after she had returned to the house – to Rupert – and I wonder how Sadie will react when all of this comes out. And Will and Amanda, and Rupert’s lovely parents who did nothing but make me feel welcome. Sitting back on my haunches I pause for a moment, as something like grief washes over me. Shame and the humiliation of being duped burns as if I have been branded. How could I, of all people, not seen Rupert for what he really was?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Rupert is distracted as he waits in line at Pret to pay for a soggy, overpriced sandwich and a coffee. His mind is full of thoughts of Sadie, and how appallingly she has behaved, and Emily, who he is starting to think he really does need to worry about. He swipes his card, and doesn’t realize for a moment, until the barista says, ‘Sir’ a little too loudly that it has been declined. He hands over a tenner and makes his way to a table where Sadie sits waiting for him.
‘I’m so sorry, Rupert,’ Sadie is tearful as he takes his seat, ‘thank you so much for agreeing to see me.’
‘You didn’t really give me a choice, did you?’ Rupert is curt with her, not taken in by her crocodile tears. ‘Why did you do it, Sadie?’
‘I was concerned for you…’ she heaves in a dramatic breath. ‘Everything happened so quickly, how could you be sure that Emily was the real deal? Call it a test, if you like.’
‘It wasn’t your place to “test” anything,’ Rupert says, pushing the sandwich away from him. He has no appetite.
‘I just wanted to protect you, Rupert. After Caro died you pushed us all away, you refused to see me for months. I was worried that things were moving too fast with Emily, that’s all. I didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand, and of course I didn’t realize how mentally fragile she is, I mean, talking about Caro as if Caro could still be alive…’
‘I don’t want to talk about Caro,’ Rupert snaps. ‘This isn’t about Caro, it’s about you. I’m sorry, Sadie, I can’t see you for a while, not until I get my head straight. I’m finding it all a bit hard to process, to be honest.’
He is blunt with her. Rupert has only agreed to see her today because she hasn’t stopped calling since the day Emily came home and told him it was Sadie who had done all of these things, things he had written off as Emily being a bit paranoid, to his shame. Now, he shoves back his chair and snatches up his jacket. He hasn’t told Emily that he’s taken today off work, wanting some time to himself to process everything, but now he feels the urge to go home and tell her he’s sorry. For everything.
Rupert stops in the upmarket supermarket on the High Street on the way home and picks up a fancy meal for two that he will prepare this evening, along with two bottles of decent red wine. Emily is worrying him, with all her talk of Caro, and knocking down the orangery. Tonight, he will put any negative thoughts out of her head, once and for all. He can’t afford for her to keep pecking away at him about Caro, he’ll snap if she does. Maybe he’ll stop thinking about booking that holiday in the sun and actually book it – that should take her mind off of everything. The self-service checkout beeps at him and spits his bank card out, and he looks around in frustration for a member of staff.
‘There’s something wrong with this till,’ Rupert says, as he picks up the bag of groceries.
‘I’m sorry, sir, it’s not the till,’ the girl says, ‘your card has been declined. Do you want to try it again?’
Rupert pushes his card back into the machine and once again it is declined. He shoves the bag of groceries back at the cashier and storms out of the store, his face burning as he calls the bank from his mobile.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Milligan, your card was declined due to insufficient funds.’ The woman on the other end of the line is aloof, bored almost.
‘No, that’s not right,’ Rupert feels his blood pressure rising, ‘can you just check them again, please? All of them?’ He waits a moment, before the woman tells him the exact same thing. Insufficient funds. On every bank account he holds. ‘There must be some sort of glitch your end. I hope you’re going to pay out compensation for the inconvenience.’
Rupert hangs up, his mood not improved. It’s OK, he thinks, a short time later as he walks down the driveway to the house, Emily has her black Am Ex. They can use that to go out for dinner later, and then he’ll speak to her about booking that romantic getaway, and things can go back to how they were.
As he lets himself in, the first thing he notices is that the house is silent. Emily must be out shopping. Hopefully that will have taken her mind off rebuilding the orangery – at least she’s abandoned all talk of putting in a pool. As he pushes open the door to his study, the second thing he notices are the plans to the orangery, laid out on his desk. Frowning, he steps forward, a ring of blue pen on the plan glowing like a beacon and his stomach drops away.
He closes his eyes, fighting a wave of nausea as everything about that night comes back to him, engulfing him and he presses his hands onto the desk, leaning into them in order to stay on his feet.
‘Rupert, darling, please let’s just tell everyone tonight.’ Caro is manic, her eyes glittering in the glow of the fairy lights as people mill around, drinks in hand, all there to admire the new orangery that has cost Rupert a fortune. An orangery that Caro wanted and neither of them needed. ‘It’s a double celebration – our beautiful ho
me and a beautiful baby.’ She lays a hand on her stomach and Rupert grips her by the wrist, pulling her to one side.
‘No, Caro, we’re not telling anybody, not tonight.’ He fixes a smile on his face as Sadie walks past with a drink in her hand, aware that he is hissing the words. ‘I thought we agreed that we haven’t even made a decision yet about what we’re going to do?’
‘I’ve made my decision,’ Caro hisses back, before she pastes on a brilliant smile as Will brushes by them. ‘Will, darling, would you mind grabbing me a drink – just a soda water for now.’ She beams at him, but her eyes glitter with tears and Rupert feels the first flicker of fear. Caro in this state is wildly unpredictable. She turns back to him. ‘How dare you be so fucking selfish?’
Rupert glances around, convinced that all their guests know there is a row going on, has been since before the party even started. ‘Caro, all I’m saying is that we need to think things through properly before we make a final decision. It’s not fair for you to call me selfish.’ He leans in closer. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little selfish?’
‘How fucking dare you!’ Caro forgets their guests, forgets that this row is supposed to hissed and whispered, forgets that they are supposed to be putting on a façade to the rest of the world. She throws what remains of her soda water in his face and turns on her heel, slamming her way out of the house. Rupert stands there, face dripping wet and aflame with embarrassment as their guests turn to stare.
‘Rupert, darling, are you OK?’ Sadie is by his side in an instant, dabbing at his face with the bell sleeve of her dress. He brushes her aside, her attention only serving to irritate him.
‘Sorry, folks, it looks like the party is over.’ Rupert claps his hands together. ‘Thank you for coming everyone, but yeah… it’s time to leave. Thank you for your time.’ He starts to usher people towards the door, many of them too embarrassed on his behalf to say anything.
Sadie loiters, and Rupert lets Miles call her to the door. ‘Sorry, old chap,’ Miles gives him a sheepish grin, ‘I’m sure she’ll calm down soon.’
‘Call me if you need to.’ Sadie presses her lips to Rupert’s cheek, and he is relieved when finally, everyone has left. He’s cleared away the glasses and bottles and is upstairs listening to Caro’s mobile ring downstairs when he hears the slam of the front door. He ends the call and waits as her footsteps march up the stairs and she throws open the bedroom door, clearly still unhappy.
‘So, you decided the party was over as well, did you?’ She stands there, her chest heaving, her eye make-up a dirty smudge around her eyes.
‘Caro, you didn’t give me much option. You stormed out. You threw a drink over me in front of everyone.’
‘You want to abort our baby. You think you get to make the decision, but it’s mine, Rupert, do you understand? It’s my decision, it’s my body.’
There is a tinge of hysteria in her voice and Rupert struggles to squash down a sigh. It’s going to be another of those nights, of Caro repeating herself, and Rupert trying to explain and then reassure her, until finally, probably in the grey dawn hours, she will be so exhausted she’ll fall asleep and he’ll have to go to work on no sleep, with the very real fear that he’ll come home to blood in the bath, or an empty pill bottle.
‘That’s not what I said, Caro.’ Rupert feels the uphill battle start, already weary at the thought of the climb. ‘I said we need to talk about it, think things through properly.’
‘There is nothing to talk about.’ Caro’s words are bumpy and hitched as she forces them out between heavy, hysterical sobs. ‘Why don’t you want a baby with me? Because you don’t love me? Is that why? Is that why you have people watching me all the time, moving my things? Is that your lover, the one you cheat on me with?’
‘I don’t have a lover,’ Rupert says, for the millionth time. He feels something inside him snap. ‘I don’t want a baby with you, Caro, because I don’t want to bring a child into this.’ The release is like a dam being broken and he couldn’t stop the words if he tried. ‘You drain me, Caro, your moods, the way you are tonight, I don’t ever want a baby with you because of how you are.’
He knows he’s hurting her, but he hurts too, and he doesn’t expect it when she flies at him, her hands going for his face, the rake of her nails along his neck. He tries to push her off, his hand catching her ear as she grabs for his throat and she’s just so strong. Panic and rage and fear – yes, rage that she could be such a bitch, a goddamn fucking bitch and fear that she’s going to really do something bad, really hurt him this time – overwhelm him and Rupert grabs her, his hands closing around her throat and there’s something just so satisfying about the give of her skin under his fingers and the way she finally, finally, stops shouting, as they both sink to the floor.
Rupert takes his hands from her throat, panting, his breath hurting in his chest as he looks down at Caro, her face pale and her eyes wide, the purple marks of his fingers already standing out against the alabaster white of her skin.
‘Caro?’ He whispers it, as if worried he’ll wake her and he waits a moment for her to blink, to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. But she doesn’t. And Rupert feels a sick sense of dread start somewhere around his stomach, a whispered ‘fuck’ escaping his lips as he presses his fingers against her already cooling skin in search of a pulse.
The third thing Rupert sees as he stands in his study is the safe door, wide open and swinging. In two strides he is across the room, peering into the now empty safe, and realization begins to dawn. There was no glitch at the bank, there will be no compensation for inconvenience. He pulls out his phone and opens the app. Every bank account is empty. He covers his face with his hands as he remembers Emily, sitting at the kitchen table as he rushes around getting ready for work, waving a utility bill in his face.
‘Just give me the log on and I’ll do it online,’ she says, a trace of irritation in her voice. ‘You did say you’d do it last week, Rupert, and I’m worried they’ll cut us off. Give me the bank login and I’ll sort it out before you forget, set up a direct debit so it’s done for the future.’
And because he was busy, stressed with work, because she made his heart flip over when he looked at her and sometimes – most of the time – he felt the blood shoot to his groin when she smiled at him, he gave it to her.
Rupert goes into their bedroom, but he can see before he’s even looked properly that she is gone. Caro’s jewellery box stands empty on the dressing table, the en suite is cleared of cleanser and make-up, her hangers swing empty in the wardrobe. Groaning, Rupert slams the wardrobe door closed, blaming himself before a wave of fury washes over him. How dare she do this to him? He swipes the phone screen, dials a number and waits for it to connect. Pacing the floor downstairs in the sitting room, Rupert tries and fails to see the signs that Emily wasn’t who she said she was. That he was taken in so completely. He is lost in thought, when just ten minutes after making the call, the doorbell rings and with a looming sense of déjà vu, Rupert opens the door to the police.
‘Mr Rupert Milligan?’
‘Yes, that’s right. Come in.’ Rupert stands to one side to let them through. ‘Thank you so much for coming out to me so quickly. I can give you a list of everything taken, I’ll do anything I can to help you catch her.’
The two officers exchange a quizzical look before the taller one, an officer that Rupert realizes with a sinking feeling that he has seen before, says, ‘Mr Milligan, we are arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Mrs Caroline Osbourne-Milligan.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
Early September, and it’s been six months since I fled Rupert’s house, taking everything I could and putting in a call to the police before I turned my back on the house for good. Today is our one-year wedding anniversary. I should have been spending it somewhere warm, having let Rupert pay for some extravagant holiday to celebrate. Instead, he is languishing in a cell and I am sitting on the beach in Devon, the home of my new life, enjoyin
g the early autumn sunshine.
It didn’t take me long to piece together what I thought had happened to Caro, and it took me even less time to pack my stuff and get out, clearing Rupert’s bank accounts on the way. I picture him now, hefting Caro’s dead weight into the soakaway, watching as Nick and his men piled on the topsoil. Driving Caro’s car away in the dead of night to leave at that notorious spot near the bridge, while she cooled back at the house. His hand shaking as he forged her one-word suicide note. I should have known that letting myself get attached was a mistake, but there was something about Rupert that I couldn’t resist. My plan on getting the job was to make him fall for me, take the money and go, like I have so many times before, but he crawled under my skin and I let myself fall for him. Things got a bit sticky with Harry, especially at the end, when I broke into the house and waited in his bed, and he lost it completely… but this time I definitely bit off more than I could chew.
People only show you the façade that they want you to see. Everyone does it. We all show our best faces to the others around us.
Rupert’s words come back to me, from the night I realized that he wasn’t who I thought he was. I’ve spent my life putting on a façade in order to drag myself up from nothing to where I am today, thanks to my mother’s training and the hefty bank balances of Rupert, and Harry, and a guy called Justin before them, back when I was calling myself Ellie.
Now, sitting in my little corner of paradise, I watch the man playing with his children, running in and out of the surf even though it’s too chilly for that. I smile as the youngest, a girl, kicks up a spray that soaks his trouser legs and he laughs, his curly blond hair blowing wildly in the breeze. Thanks to the nanny who looks after his children – a round, rosy-cheeked woman who spends a lot of time discussing her employer in the local coffee shop – I know that his name is Patrick, and his wife died five years ago, when the youngest child was barely a few weeks old. He runs his own business, and is very successful at it, winning awards. He likes fishing, hiking, good ale and on top of all that, he is practical, with hands the size of shovels. I also know from the nanny that he is lonely, that he longs for a partner to share the vast amounts of money he has made. For someone to be a proper mother to his children.