The distant sound of the house phone ringing made her sit up again. She rarely used it; most people rang her mobile. She frowned as it continued to ring, stopped, and seconds later rang again. ‘Caitlin,’ Melanie muttered, throwing the duvet back. She looked at the chest of drawers barring her exit, shaking her head at her stupidity as she pushed it out of the way. The phone continued to ring, stopping as she got to the lounge. Then it started again. She picked it up. ‘Sorry, I was in the shower.’ The lie came easily.
‘You scared the wits out of me, you idiot.’ Caitlin’s voice was agitated. ‘You didn’t answer your mobile, I was giving your house phone one more go before I rang the police.’ A deep, noisy exhale of breath. ‘You scared me, Mel,’ she said, her voice calmer. ‘How are you this morning? Did you get any sleep?’
‘I’m fine and yes, I slept okay. I’m sorry I scared you, don’t worry about me.’
‘Of course I’m going to worry, I’m your friend. What are you doing today, would you like to come out to lunch with us?’
Caitlin lunched almost every Saturday with a retired ex-police officer, a large buxom woman with platinum blonde hair and a cut-glass accent who looked and sounded intimidating but who was very sweet, terribly nosy and incredibly intuitive. Melanie would rather have stuck needles in her eyes than go to lunch where her story would have been winkled out in seconds. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, bringing up a lie she knew her friend would believe. ‘I really need to get some work done.’
‘Okay, then I’ll give you a ring later, check you don’t need anything.’
She didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but Melanie would have preferred to be left alone. ‘Lovely, thanks, you’re so good to me.’
‘That’s what friends are for,’ Caitlin said and hung up.
Melanie put the handset down and looked across at her mobile. There was no point in putting it off but that didn’t stop her from doing just that, sitting looking balefully across the room as if the mobile were something that had offended her. Finally, she stood and picked it up.
Her bark of laughter was followed by a fit of giggles that bore a trace of hysteria. She clamped a hand over her mouth and took a shuddering breath. There was nothing funny about it. The phone was dead; she’d forgotten to charge it.
Plugging it in, she could have checked the emails then but couldn’t bring herself to look. She left it to charge and went to make some coffee. She’d no intention of doing any work. Truth was, there was nothing she really needed to do. But sitting around worrying and allowing herself to be consumed with fear – that wasn’t an option.
She thought about ringing one of her other friends to meet for coffee, dismissing the idea almost immediately. Small talk over coffee wasn’t going to be enough of a diversion. But she wasn’t going to sit around. She’d go into the city, look at the fashion, maybe buy some new clothes.
Forced optimism kept her going until the reality of Oxford Street hit her. Crowded, as usual, she should have been able to hide in the normality of it all but instead fear lurked around every shop corner and in every person who accidently bumped into her. She’d only walked a short distance from the underground station when she realised what a silly idea it had been and when a passing available taxi caught her eye, she jumped at the chance to escape. With a wave of her hand it pulled over, and seconds later she was slumped in the back seat.
She was almost home when the taxi stopped at the traffic lights at the corner of her road, her gaze drifting automatically down the street to the front of her apartment. Bloom Park Road was normally a quiet residential street; she rarely saw anyone, and never anyone hanging about. But now, her eyes widened as she saw someone lounging on her garden wall. A male figure. Hugo? She pressed her nose to the window, but he was too far away to identify for sure. All she could be certain of was that it was a man.
18
Melanie reached forward to knock loudly on the partition that separated her from the driver. Too loudly, startling a yelp from him. He turned to look at her with an angry expression that faded when he saw her wide eyes. ‘What the hell’s going on?’
‘Drive on. Don’t turn! Straight, go straight on.’ She waved at the road ahead.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, indicating to pull into the other lane, driving straight through when the lights changed with a hand raised in thanks to the car behind. ‘Where to?’
She strained against her seatbelt to turn and stare out the rear windscreen as if she expected the man to be running after her.
‘Where to?’ the driver repeated, his voice louder, irritated.
‘Take the next left, then left at the end of that road. I want you to drive slowly past the other end of my road, okay?’
There was silence before he agreed. ‘Is there someone there you’re worried about? You want me to ring the police?’
‘No, no,’ she hurried to reassure him. ‘It’s my… my brother… he’s always coming around to borrow money. If it’s him, I don’t want him to see me.’
The taxi driver, obviously feeling he’d done his bit, gave a casual shrug, followed her directions and a couple of minutes later they were approaching the other end of Bloom Park Road. Melanie slid down in the seat to stay out of view. ‘Can you go as slowly as possible,’ she said.
‘I’ll do my best,’ the driver said, ‘but I can’t for very long, this is a busy road.’
She didn’t bother replying, straining to see out the window. Her apartment was closer to this end of the road, she could make out the figure more clearly. Definitely not Hugo, too bulky, maybe a little shorter. Unfortunately, he was looking in the other direction and wore a hat pulled down low so it was impossible to tell who he was. Lack of recognition, however, did nothing to diminish her fear.
‘Where now?’ The driver sounded bored.
‘Drop me here,’ she said, sitting up.
When the taxi pulled away, she stood in indecision. If she walked back to look again, she might meet him coming towards her but she couldn’t just stand there either. It wasn’t Hugo, but she already knew he wasn’t her greatest fear. What if it were nobody? Time to pay. There had been no demands for money, so it could only mean one thing, couldn’t it? A life for a life. She shivered; her light jacket and thin blouse weren’t meant for standing around on a chilly day. Folding her arms across her chest, for warmth as much as protection, she walked towards her road, anxiety making her footsteps jerky and slow.
She stopped at the corner of a high garden wall that wrapped around onto Bloom Park Road and leaning against it, peered around, confused when, as far as she could see, the road was empty.
Maybe, he’d gone to ring her doorbell. She stepped back, waited a few seconds, and looked again. But there was nobody there. He’d given up and gone away. Hadn’t he? She moved forward slowly, her eyes constantly scanning the street ahead. When she was halfway along, she took a deep breath and ran. She pulled her key from her bag as she moved, had it in her hand, desperately prodding the keyhole with it when she got to her front door, missing in her haste, the key screeching as it scratched the metal. She was afraid to look behind and tried again, her fingers clumsy with sweat. This time she succeeded. Turning the key, she pushed the door open, stumbled into the hall and slammed the door behind her.
She couldn’t go further and slumped against the wall, trying to catch her breath. There had been someone there, he must have walked in the other direction. She was not imagining things.
It was several minutes before she felt able to move, keeping a hand on the wall as she walked to the lounge.
Her mobile was still plugged into the charger. Because it had been completely flat, she had to key in her password to start it again and, when she did, it pinged manically with all the missed calls and messages. Quite a few of the missed calls were from Caitlin, starting early morning, then a long pause, and more within the last hour. Melanie would ring her back when she had the energy. All the other calls were from a withheld number.
Leaving it, she chec
ked her emails. Nothing more from nobody. Nothing from Hugo… no surprise there. Sinking onto the sofa, she looked at the list of missed calls again. Twelve in total. Someone really wanted to get hold of her but they hadn’t bothered to leave a message, voicemail, or text and since the number was withheld, there was no way for her to ring back.
Time to pay. The words rattled in her head. Was this the idea? To have her so unsettled, so damn scared that she did what Cherry had done?
If it was the man in the street, might he come back? Melanie hurried to the bedroom, slanting the shutters to peer out. As far as she could see, the road was empty. She closed the shutters and, for good measure, pulled the heavy curtains she only ever used in the depths of winter. Once that was done, she went into the spare bedroom and did the same.
The back of the house looked out onto a small walled courtyard. There was no entrance, the walls over six foot high. She was safe here. Wasn’t she? When her mobile rang, she caught her breath and froze. It could be him. It stopped and started again. Then her house phone rang. Her breath coming out in a whoosh, she grabbed it. ‘Hello?’
‘Where the hell have you been, I’ve been ringing your mobile?’ Caitlin’s anxious voice, loud and comforting.
‘The battery was flat,’ Melanie said, telling a half-truth. ‘Sorry, I’m not long in, actually. I’d decided to do some shopping.’
‘And how are you feeling?’
Terrified. ‘Fine,’ she said, hoping her friend wouldn’t hear the tremble in her voice. When a sigh brushed her ear, she knew Caitlin guessed she was upset. She just wouldn’t know the real reason.
‘Would you like me to come over?’
Melanie put some steel in her voice. ‘No, honestly, I’m fine, a bit tired, maybe shopping hadn’t been the best idea. I’m planning to settle down and watch one of those Netflix series I’ve been meaning to watch for absolutely ages.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Positive, but thank you, Caitlin, you’re a good friend.’
‘Yes, well I worry about you. Ring me tomorrow night so I know you’re doing okay.’
With the promise made, Melanie hung up and sat back. The heating was on, the apartment was warm, and suddenly a waft of body odour hit her. She stank of despair and fear.
A long hot shower left her feeling fresher but no more relaxed. She pulled on a pair of pyjamas and sat on the sofa to watch television, switching it on, then getting up to make herself a cup of tea and something to eat. She hadn’t the energy or desire to cook, settling in the end for some cheese and crackers.
The news was blaring as she carried the mug and plate into the lounge. Watching the headlines with little interest, she drank her tea, ignored the crackers and nibbled on some cheese. It took a while to choose which series she wanted to watch, then she changed her mind and switched to a channel showing reruns of Frasier. She’d seen them all before, but they were amusing, unthreatening candyfloss for her brain. She even managed a chuckle.
A noise jerked her upright. She reached for the remote, muted the television and cocked her head to listen. When it came again, she tried to identify what it was, where it came from. Holding her breath, she stood. It seemed to be coming from the kitchen. From the open doorway of the lounge, she looked across the hall. The kitchen was in darkness, and for the moment it was silent. Then it came again, a dull metallic sound.
Adrenaline shot through her, causing a spike of anger that dislodged the fear. She stepped across the hall, reached inside for the light switch and blinked as the room filled with light. The metallic sound came again. Her hand went to her neck, then she laughed, a sad laugh at her stupidity, the sound full of hopelessness. She’d thrown the foil that had covered the cheese into the sink and her tap dripped. That’s all it was, the metallic sound of a drop of water landing on tinfoil.
With the tinfoil in the bin, quiet was restored. Melanie’s spurt of anger had faded, and fear once again simmered. There was a magnetic strip on the kitchen wall holding a set of expensive knives she’d bought herself as a house-warming present, intent then on taking up cordon bleu cookery as a hobby. She hadn’t and most of the knives had never been used. The middle one was the biggest with a sharp twenty-centimetre blade. She pulled it from the magnetic strip and took it with her when she went back to the lounge, feeling safer with it sitting beside her, and later she fell asleep with it lying beside her pillow.
To her surprise, she managed to get several hours sleep. She followed her usual Sunday routine and went out to the local shop for a newspaper, bringing it home and reading it over breakfast. She’d been invited to a friend’s house for lunch, a casual invitation to an open-house affair. She decided against going, sending her friend a text message explaining she was too busy with work. Her friend, in the same line of business, would understand completely.
Instead, staying indoors, safe, Melanie settled with the box set of Downton Abbey, a series she’d never watched but that had been recommended to her. It was the perfect choice but even as she enjoyed it, her eyes constantly flitted to where her phone sat. It stayed quiet, but there was no peace in the silence.
That night, once again, she slept with the knife beside her pillow. She woke several times and listened for a sound in the quiet, her hand creeping around the cold handle as if it were a talisman to ward off the evil. She would be comforted for a moment and slip back to sleep, only to fall into that same awful dream she’d had for years and jolt awake again.
In the morning, slightly heavier makeup disguised her pallor and concealer hid the dark shadows under her eyes. With her hair neatly pinned up in her customary chignon and wearing a dark-grey suit, she looked almost normal. She didn’t think anyone would notice that her eyes never seemed to sit still, and the way the simplest sound set her on edge. There were no meetings planned for that day, she could stay in her safe, secure office away from prying eyes.
Normally, she took the tube to work but the thought that nobody might be among the people surrounding her made her shiver. Instead, she called a taxi, waiting until it was pulled up outside before taking the safety chain off the front door. She didn’t step out until she’d glanced up and down the road, then made a run for the car door and jumped inside.
When she pushed through the front door of her office building, the first thing that struck her was how normal everything was. The usual greetings from the front-of-house staff, the friendly wave from Dan the security man, the Did you have a nice weekend from several people she passed. Everyone was going about their day as if everything was hunky-dory. Or maybe, like her, they were all pretending.
She shut her office door and pressed her forehead against it for a moment. It was going to be a long day. Behind her desk, she was tempted to cross her arms on the cool wood, rest her head in the crook of her elbow and shut her eyes. Instead, she switched on her computer and tried to concentrate her mind on work.
There was an email from Richard, sent, she was surprised to see, at five that morning. She opened it, the tension easing as she read. He’d spoken to the CEO’s of both Fanton’s and CityEast and explained the situation to them following which, the email informed her, an agreement to delay the merger had been made. She doubted if either had been happy and wondered what promises Richard had had to make to ensure their compliance.
It took her a few minutes to compose a suitably grateful reply. There were a few more emails to deal with and a couple of reports to read, gritty eyes struggling to stay focused.
Late morning, she headed to the staffroom for coffee, drinking a mugful and refilling it. Caffeine might be the only way to get through the day. With the mug in her hand, she opened the door to head back to her office.
‘Hello.’
Melanie’s hand jerked and the overfilled mug tilted, spilling coffee down the side. She swore softly as the hot coffee hit her hand.
‘Here, let me,’ Liam Quinn said, pulling tissues from his pocket. He handed her one and bent to mop the drops of coffee from the floor. ‘I’m
sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
Melanie used the tissue he’d given her to wipe her hand and the side of the mug. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to be lurking outside the door.’
‘I wasn’t lurking,’ he said evenly. He nodded towards the end of the corridor. ‘I was heading for the lift.’
She shifted the mug in her hand and held the damp tissue in the other. It wasn’t fair to blame him because she’d been distracted. It wasn’t his fault that the slightest thing made her jump. ‘Yes, I’m sorry, it was my fault. Thanks for coming to my rescue.’
With a nod, she left him standing there and returned to her office. Too restless to sit, she stood at the window and sipped her coffee. The day was already fading but the street below was bright with the lights from the ground floor offices. There was the usual hustle and bustle around the front door, her eyes drifting unfocused over the moving bodies before seeing one slouched against the wall that made her gasp. Recognition was instantaneous – the same heavy coat and hat pulled down low over his eyes. It was the man from outside her apartment.
Her reaction was instinctive. She put her coffee down, pulled her office door open and stepped out. ‘Mr Quinn,’ she called to the man who was jabbing the lift button impatiently. ‘Could I have a word, please?’
‘I have another job for you,’ she said, when he approached, her voice trembling slightly. Inside her office, she walked to the window and pointed. ‘See that man leaning against the wall? The one with the hat pulled down over his head?’
Quinn took a step closer. ‘I see him,’ he said, turning to look at her, a frown between his eyes.
‘I want to know who he is.’ She moved away from the window and folded her arms across her chest. ‘He’s following me. He was outside my house yesterday. I don’t know what he wants, can you find out?’
The Deadly Truth Page 11