The Lying Room

by Nicci French

  She knew. They had taken it from her.

  Shortly before Saul’s death, her old backpack had been stolen when she was in a crowded café. Her key had been inside the wallet. Saul had had another one cut for her and she hadn’t thought about it again, just put it down to a random thief and her own carelessness.

  She was certain that whoever had killed Saul had taken her bag. When was that? She couldn’t remember the date but she’d be able to find out because she’d reported her cards missing. In any case, it was in the days leading up to Saul’s death.

  Fletcher wouldn’t have stolen her backpack, she thought. He had no need. It was there in the house every day. But who’d been with her in the café? She thought that Renata and Tamsin had been. What about Gary? She didn’t think so but she couldn’t remember. But if they’d taken it, where would they have hidden it? But anyone walking past could have unslung it from the back of the chair.

  As she looked back over the past days, it felt like everything was tainted, everything was conspiring against her. There were no accidents. She even started to replay her bike accident in her mind, like she was running a film sequence over and over. That shape that had emerged from the edge of her vision, pushing her off her bike, leaving her with cuts and bruises and her grazed and swollen face – was it the hopeless, chaotic drunk person she had imagined or was it deliberate? An attempt to harm her, to kill her? She remembered a lorry rumbling past a few inches from her as she lay in the road. Was it the same person who had stolen her key, sent her the text, killed Saul, taken the photo from her corkboard, who had pushed the blood-smeared folder through Bernice’s letterbox, who had taken the hammer from the garden? Someone watching her, tracking her; someone making plans and yet out of control as well, consumed by hatred. Hatred for her. Who would hate her this much?

  Neve knew it had to be someone close to her, intimate with her life, perhaps someone who knew that the best way to destroy her was to destroy her daughter as well.

  Even as she was thinking this, a few minutes from home, another thought, ghostly and fleeting, snagged at her and then was gone. Like a dream you forget on waking, Neve couldn’t recover it. It slid from her mind leaving no trace, just the sense of missing something crucial.

  As she was putting the key in the front door and starting to turn it, Mabel opened the door. It was like she had been waiting for her to arrive.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Mabel said.

  ‘I went to see Bernice Stevenson.’

  ‘I thought she lived out of London somewhere.’

  ‘I went out to her house. On the train.’

  ‘What for? Is something happening?’

  Neve leaned close in to her daughter. She put her arm round her shoulders. She was so thin. She could feel her shoulder blades. Mabel let her hand rest there for a few seconds then stepped away from her. Neve saw how wrung out she looked. She spoke to her in a soft voice as if she feared being overheard.

  ‘You’re going to be all right,’ she said and her voice was firm. ‘I’ll make sure of that.’

  ‘How can you?’ said Mabel. ‘How can you possibly?’

  Neve looked out of the back window. Will was bent down over one of the flower beds.

  ‘Why is he still here?’ said Neve. ‘Does nobody ever leave this house?’

  ‘I think he’s doing some weeding.’

  ‘Who said he could do weeding? Weeding is what I do to relax.’

  ‘Renata’s with him as well,’ said Mabel. ‘She’s behaving a bit oddly.’

  ‘Oddly how?’

  ‘Giggly. A bit, well, flirty.’

  Neve walked through to the kitchen and out into the garden. Will was tugging at a plant. Neve wasn’t entirely sure it was a weed. Renata was standing beside him. She had changed out of Neve’s clothes that she’d been wearing at work and was now wearing the tee shirt Neve had retrieved from Saul’s flat, Neve’s leather jacket and Neve’s favourite jeans, the legs rolled up with Fletcher’s only tie acting as a belt.

  ‘Hello,’ she said gaily. Mabel was right: there was something askew about her, a hectic, jangled quality. ‘I’m being the assistant gardener.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Neve warily. Will looked round at her. ‘I thought you had work.’

  ‘I’m my own boss,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m enjoying myself.’

  ‘You shouldn’t do this. You really shouldn’t.’ It was hard to remain calm.

  ‘It’s my way of relaxing.’

  Neve stifled the impulse to say that there was no need for him to relax or sit around in her house at all. That maybe it was time for him to go back to his own home. But she didn’t say it.

  He stood up and brushed the soil from his hands. ‘There,’ he said with satisfaction.

  ‘This is very kind of you, Will.’ Neve tried to keep her voice even. ‘Though I think that weed you’re pulling up might be a plant I bought a few months ago.’

  She went upstairs to check on Rory and Connor: Rory was reading and Connor was playing a computer game. She passed the bathroom and saw the door was shut; there were sounds of water running and she frowned.

  ‘Who’s in the bath?’ she said to Fletcher as she came into the kitchen.

  ‘Oh, that’s Jackie.’

  ‘Jackie!’

  ‘She and Will came together and she said her friend’s boiler was playing up so she hadn’t had a shower for ages.’

  ‘Jackie is in our bath?’

  ‘Yes.’ He made a mock-apologetic face. ‘Sorry.’

  She made tea, and they went out to the garden with it.

  ‘I’ve never been good with the garden,’ said Fletcher. ‘I’ve just never been interested in it, that’s my problem.’

  ‘I love competent men,’ said Renata. ‘Charlie isn’t competent. Not competent at all.’

  Neve wondered if she was drunk again, or perhaps the drunkenness had never gone away.

  Will looked at her and smiled and she smiled back at him.

  ‘I don’t know about competence. But if you see a weed, you want to pull it up, get rid of it.’

  ‘Unless it’s a plant,’ said Neve.

  ‘I’d probably have been better off if I’d trained as a plumber,’ said Fletcher glumly. ‘I think the world could do without another failed artist but it can always do with someone who knows how to fix a leaking pipe.’

  ‘You’re not a failed artist,’ said Neve. ‘And I don’t think you should have trained as a plumber.’

  Fletcher was just starting to explain that this was just snobbery but then Neve’s phone rang and when she saw who was calling, she walked inside before answering.

  ‘Can you talk?’ said Sarah.

  Neve looked at Will, Renata and Fletcher in the garden. Fletcher seemed to sense her attention and smiled at her and she smiled back.

  ‘It’s not the best time.’

  ‘It’s important. I’ll be really quick.’

  Jackie walked into the kitchen, gave Neve an exuberant wave, put her finger to her lips, then picked up Neve’s mug of tea and sailed out into the garden.

  ‘That’s all right,’ Neve said.

  ‘I’ve been plucking up courage to ring you. I wanted to talk to you in person but I thought it would be awkward.’

  Neve started to speak but Sarah interrupted.

  ‘Let me just say what I rang to say and then you can reply and say anything you want.’ Neve could hear Sarah take a breath. ‘I’m so, so sorry about what we did. What I did. If I’ve hurt you – no, that’s wrong. I know I’ve hurt you. I’m going to break it off with Fletcher.’ There was a pause. Neve wasn’t sure whether she needed to reply to this. What was she meant to do? Congratulate her? So she said nothing. ‘That doesn’t sound right,’ Sarah continued. ‘That sounds like there’s something big to break off. It was all just a mess. I just wanted to be noticed by someone. And Fletcher’s been in a bad place but he’s devoted to you.’

  Neve thought of several replies she could make and didn’t say any of th
em aloud. Who was she to be angry? Maybe some vengeful God somewhere was giving her some deserved punishment.

  ‘You don’t need to justify yourself to me,’ Neve said. ‘I don’t blame you.’

  ‘But you shouldn’t blame Fletcher either. He’s already tried to end it with me twice but I persuaded him it wasn’t doing anybody any harm. And I believed that, kind of. The thing is, Neve, he loves you. He was clear about that all the time. I always knew I was just a way of getting him through a rough patch. He thought you didn’t care about him anymore or respect him. And then everything you’ve both been through with Mabel—’

  ‘Don’t bring Mabel into this.’

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry.’

  Neve took a breath. ‘Thank you,’ she said in as a calm tone as she could manage. ‘It must have taken a lot for you to call like this. And I’m not angry with you.’

  ‘Really?’ The word ended on a small sob.

  ‘Really. But I need to go now. We can talk later.’

  She ended the call and tried to collect herself by going round the kitchen, collecting cups and glasses and putting them in the dishwasher. She wiped the kitchen table. Another deep breath. She was ready to face the world. She walked back into the garden.

  ‘Everything all right?’ said Fletcher.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  Neve shrugged. ‘It was nothing.’

  There was a familiar pinging sound and Fletcher took his phone from his pocket and looked at it and took a few steps away. Neve followed him with her gaze, paying no attention to what Will was saying about options for the garden or what Renata was saying about Charlie or what Jackie was saying about men in general. He was reading a text and she knew the text he was reading. He had turned so that his back was to her but she could recognise his shock even from his hunched posture. He stood there for several minutes, far longer than it would take to read what he had to read. Finally he put his phone in his pocket and walked back to join them. His face was pale and set. He nodded as Will spoke and looked at him, but Neve could see that he wasn’t hearing anything, wasn’t seeing anything.

  She gave him a nudge. He turned to her as if she had woken him up.

  ‘OK?’ she said. Her husband had just been told by the woman he had been having an affair with that it was over, and all she could feel was a kind of exhausted pity. He seemed so defeated.

  He just looked at her as if he couldn’t understand what she was saying.

  ‘Gin,’ he said finally.

  ‘What?’

  He looked at Jackie, Will and Renata. ‘I think we should have a gin and tonic.’

  ‘Well,’ began Will. ‘I really think I’ve had enough drink over the past few days to—’

  ‘Great,’ said Renata.

  ‘I’m on,’ said Jackie.

  Fletcher looked at Neve.

  ‘A small one,’ she said. ‘A really, really small one.’

  Fletcher went into the kitchen and Renata turned to Neve.

  ‘Can I borrow a jumper of yours? I’m getting a bit chilly.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘I’ll get it. I know where all your clothes are.’

  Alone, Jackie, Neve and Will were silent for a while. Neve didn’t want to talk about anything; she just wanted them gone. Will looked at her with an expression of concern.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said.

  ‘In what sense?’

  ‘You look tired. Stressed. I feel bad about still being here. You’ve had people in the house non-stop.’

  ‘No,’ said Neve wearily. ‘That’s been good.’

  ‘Look who’s here,’ said Fletcher.

  She looked round. Fletcher was holding a tray with five glasses on it. Behind him, Hitching filled the doorway. He smiled at Neve as though nothing had happened that morning at the police station. She stared back at him, her stomach dropping away.

  ‘You’re going to say, we must stop meeting like this.’

  ‘No,’ said Neve. ‘I wasn’t.’

  ‘I thought I’d just drop by.’

  ‘I was going to offer you a gin and tonic,’ said Fletcher. ‘But whenever you do that, police always say: not while I’m on duty.’

  ‘But I’m not on duty,’ said Hitching. ‘Not really. I’m on my way home.’

  ‘Does that mean you’d like one?’

  ‘It does. It looks like your party is still going on.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Fletcher. ‘Take this one.’ He handed Hitching his own drink and went back inside.

  Renata pranced into the garden in a jumper that was far too large for her and did a comic double take.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked, then picked up her glass and took two large mouthfuls of gin.

  ‘A few loose ends,’ said Hitching.

  ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’ And she walked back into the kitchen, holding her glass in both hands as though it was a chalice. Jackie patted Neve on the head like she was a stray dog and followed.

  Neve introduced Will to Hitching as an old college friend.

  ‘College, eh?’ said Hitching. ‘So what was Neve like as a teenager?’

  Will frowned, as if he were trying to remember. ‘She knew how to have fun,’ he said.

  ‘I bet she did,’ said Hitching. ‘I bet you could tell some stories.’

  ‘I hope he won’t,’ said Neve.

  ‘She was nice,’ said Will.

  ‘Still is, I hope,’ said Hitching with a smile that sent a shudder through Neve.

  ‘She always included everyone,’ continued Will.

  ‘Well, I can see she still does that. Every time I come here, the house is full of people.’

  Fletcher re-emerged from the house with his gin and tonic. Hitching nodded at Neve.

  ‘Can I have a word?’

  ‘I thought you were off duty.’

  ‘Just a word.’

  The two of them walked down the garden and stood next to the finished greenhouse. He contemplated it.

  ‘Nice,’ he said. ‘What are you going to grow in it?’

  ‘I don’t know. Something I don’t grow in my allotment. Tomatoes maybe. Or chillis.’

  ‘Chillis? Here in England?’

  ‘They’re not hard.’

  Hitching took a sip of his drink and Neve saw that he had already finished it. He took the lemon from the bottom of the glass and ate it in two bites, peel and all.

  ‘Do you want another one?’

  ‘I talked to Katie Rouse,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘Saul Stevenson’s assistant.’

  ‘Yes, I know Katie.’

  ‘I was going to say his secretary but you’re not really allowed to call anyone a secretary anymore.’

  ‘She’s not a secretary.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Hitching. ‘She wasn’t typing his letters. She was more the keeper of his diary, arranging his affairs.’

  Neve felt a growing dread. What was coming?

  ‘She asked to see me. She knew I had been asking people in the office if they had ever gone to his flat. She had never gone there. Not once. Did you know that?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She’d heard that you had delivered a package there. She wanted me to know that she was surprised by that. Very.’

  He looked at her, obviously waiting for an answer, so she gave the simplest one she could think of.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She said that if he had needed something delivered to his flat, it would have been sent by messenger, or he would have asked her to take it. She thought it was highly unlikely he would have asked anyone else.’ He paused but Neve didn’t answer. ‘Do you have a comment?’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Neve, cursing herself inwardly for having told this unnecessary lie. ‘He asked me to take him this package and I took it.’

  ‘How did he ask you?’

  ‘I think he phoned me.’

  ‘Where was the package?’

  Neve desperately tried to think o
f something that couldn’t be checked. ‘I think it was on his desk.’

  ‘Why do you think he asked you and not Ms Rouse?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she was away. But I don’t know.’

  ‘Why would he choose you?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. He knew I rode a bike, so perhaps he assumed it would be easy for me to do it.’

  Hitching looked down at his glass again, then looked up at her. ‘How did he know you rode a bike?’

  ‘He just knew. Most people know. I think we met once when I was locking it up. Or unlocking it.’

  Hitching looked over Neve’s head with a distant expression for a long time, a minute or more. Finally he shook his head.

  ‘Chillis,’ he said. ‘Who’d have thought it.’

  ‘I haven’t grown them yet.’

  ‘I’ve visited your allotment.’

  ‘Oh.’ The syllable was a hoarse croak.

  ‘One of your neighbours pointed it out to me. We agreed that it’s a bit in need of attention.’

  ‘I’ve been busy. I haven’t been back since last Wednesday.’

  ‘Yes, when you were there with your daughter.’ He let the silence thicken between them.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Neve at last.

  ‘It looks like much longer than that. Lots of things need picking. Your chard’s gone wild. Your raspberries are going rotten. I ate a few, I have to confess. Very tasty.’

  ‘Things grow quickly at this time of year.’

  ‘Thistles have taken over. Your lettuce has bolted. That’s what you say, isn’t it? Bolted.’

  ‘Yes. As I say, I’ve been busy.’

  ‘We’ve made inquiries there.’ He said this vaguely, like it was an afterthought. ‘We haven’t found anyone yet who saw you that morning. You and your daughter, that is.’

  ‘As I said, I didn’t notice anyone, so why would anyone particularly notice me?’

  ‘Your allotment neighbour, he said he thought he was there that day.’

  ‘I didn’t see him.’

  ‘He says he hasn’t seen you for some weeks.’

  ‘We all go at different times.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  Neve took the glass from Hitching’s hand.

  ‘I talked to your daughter, by the way,’ he said casually.

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘Clever girl.’