The Woman Next Door: An unputdownable psychological thriller with a stunning twist

by Sue Watson

  ‘Can’t you see? Of course it makes sense for her to blame you for the stalking. She could get rid of you, get you out of the house.’

  ‘I know things weren’t great between us in the end, but I resented her being at the house, not the other way round. She had no reason to want me to go. She was planning to go back to her house that week.’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say anything…’ she continued, then stopped eating, put down her chopsticks and turned to face me. Oh God, what now? ‘I … I feel bad telling you this if you don’t know already, but are you aware that Matt and Amber are… together?’

  ‘Together… in what way? As far as I know she’s still staying at our house with Mia, isn’t she?’

  ‘Oh yes, she is. God, Lucy. I’m sorry. You don’t know, do you? I mean they’re together. As a couple.’

  The shock raced through me. ‘No… I didn’t know that. But I find it hard to believe. Kirsty, they don’t even like each other! She always said I could do a lot better than Matt, and I had to beg him not to be rude to her when she first moved in.’

  ‘They say the wife’s always the last to know.’ Kirsty sighed, reaching for a prawn cracker. I’d suddenly lost my appetite. ‘There have been rumours, but I only felt I should tell you when I saw it for myself,’ she said, and I could see it was upsetting her to tell me this. ‘They are blatant, Lucy, walking around the estate pushing the baby, holding hands, his arm around her… I’m sorry. She even told Stella he wanted to marry her.’

  That would explain his letter soon after the court case telling me he never wanted anything to do with me ever again. I thought about the way the three of us lived together, and wondered if something had been going on back then and Amber really did want me off the scene. I think back to times when I’d walked in on them chatting, heads down, giggling, and felt relieved that they were getting along. Then there was the time when I was sure Matt had said ‘you’re my everything’ but Amber had laughed it off, said I was hearing things. Perhaps I was hearing things I didn’t want to hear and it was easier to put my hands over my ears and pretend everything was fine.

  ‘It’s okay… They’re welcome to each other,’ I said, but it wasn’t okay, and she must have heard the crack in my voice. This happened in my own home under my nose, and yes there were times I might have been surprised at their closeness, but I was so busy working and looking after Mia, I refused to see it. I was causing the problem for them, not solving it. Amber wasn’t the third wheel. I was. ‘I don’t want to even think about it…’ I said eventually.

  ‘No. Fair enough, I wouldn’t either, but after telling you not to bother with book club, she soon came back without you. Did you know she’d rejoined?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘She wanted to come back to the book club, wanted us all to be friends… asked us over dinner.’

  ‘Yes, I remember. Everyone went for an Italian and I wasn’t invited. I was at home minding Mia.’

  ‘She messaged us all and invited us to meet up there. I assumed you were going too. I was still feeling a bit pissed off with you so didn’t get in touch, but I went along hoping you’d be there. When I arrived, she was lording it over everyone, paying for everything and just being… Amber. I knew she was up to something. She kept hinting that you were being ‘possessive’ and didn’t like her going anywhere without you.’

  I felt another stab of the knife. ‘What else did she say?’

  ‘I don’t know. Once I realised you weren’t with her, and it was the Amber show, I left. I wasn’t letting her pay for my meal so she could bitch about you all night. God, I hate her! And she’s suddenly best friends with Stella,’ she added, before taking a sip of wine.

  Stella of the boring beige sofa? ‘But Stella’s not exactly Amber’s type…’ I said, trying not to be rude or unkind about Stella – even though Amber had definitely said before that she thought Stella had to be the most boring person on the estate. ‘I can’t see Stella drinking champagne in fancy wine bars. That’s what we used to do.’ I couldn’t help it, even then, after everything. I felt a little stung that Amber had a new friend, and the strange thing was, her betrayal hurt even more than Matt’s. Perhaps it was because this burgeoning new friendship with Stella was proof that I wasn’t special after all – just more vulnerable.

  ‘Well,’ Kirsty said, ‘Stella and Amber are besties now. But, mind you, Stella does look after Mia every now and then.’

  ‘Ahh, childcare – that’ll be it.’ I sighed.

  ‘Oh yes. I think Amber finds out what you are useful for and then she uses you for what she needs… It’s why I wanted to reach out again. I just always knew your friendship was by her design, not yours.’

  I could see it so clearly now; Kirsty was right, she’d always been right. Amber made me want to be her friend, and once we were close and I revealed things to her, she used it to manipulate me. She’d stored up my secrets for a later date when she might need them and then she spat them all out – first in that courtroom, then later on TV to make her story stronger, more titivating. To get what she wanted. It was her testimony that damned me. My husband wasn’t her only betrayal – and she’d gone on to betray me over and over again.

  ‘Amber’s like a chameleon. She adapts to her surroundings; a glam celebrity one minute, housewife and new mum the next,’ Kirsty was saying, while shaking her head in wonderment. ‘I have to give it to her, Lucy, she gets to know her victims. I just wish Stella could see it, but I couldn’t convince you, so I’m not wasting my energy. Maybe she’ll only see it when Amber’s shagging her husband.’ She looked at me.

  And I felt stupid. Again.

  ‘I never imagined she’d want Matt, not in a million years,’ I said, still trying to assimilate the information. I couldn’t believe Matt would want Amber either, but perhaps he was just another one of Amber’s victims, falling for her act.

  ‘Oh, I doubt she wants Matt, she’s just playing games. She wanted to prove to herself that she could get him if she wanted to. And she did. I read an article in the hairdresser’s about manipulative behaviour the other day,’ she said, spooning Cantonese chicken onto her plate, ‘and it was like it was written about Amber. She’s essentially a con woman. Like a parasite. She mirrors people until she has them and then she uses them for whatever she can get. It might be money, a husband, a home… even childcare! It’s how she survives – she’s charming and charismatic, but actually very dangerous.’

  ‘Yes, I’m beginning to see it. Having said that, Amber may have wanted my husband, but I doubt she ever wanted anything material from me – I had nothing and she has so much. She wouldn’t want my home. She has a beautiful home of her own and loads of money.’

  ‘The house was rented. Apparently she has nothing.’

  ‘No.’ I was shocked.

  The revelations kept coming. I couldn’t believe it, I just sat there at a table with my congealed Chinese food, open-mouthed. ‘But her beautiful furniture, the lovely garden…’

  ‘I know someone who works at the estate agent who looks after it. She rented that place fully furnished. And when she met you, she’d just realised she couldn’t afford to pay the rent because her boyfriend had just dumped her and wouldn’t be moving in. She knew she wouldn’t be able to stay there much longer. You thought you asked her to stay with you, but she made it so you couldn’t do otherwise.’

  I’m shocked again. But of course she did. I should have seen it but was too impressed, too beguiled by her.

  ‘She could tell you wanted a bit of excitement, that you and Matt weren’t exactly love’s young dream any more, but she knew you lived nearby and I guess she needed somewhere convenient to stay until she could work out what to do next.’

  Spending that evening with Kirsty was bittersweet, and full of nasty surprises, but it cleared my head and I started to see things differently. Perhaps in a weird way Amber did me a favour by stealing Matt. And Kirsty was right, we weren’t happy, and if he cheated on me with her, then he isn’t who
I thought he was – and she’s welcome to him.

  Regardless, Amber stole from me. She took what was closest to my heart – my home, my husband and Mia – and she also stole my secret and told it to the world. So it’s now time she paid for what she took from me.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Lucy

  ‘I woke up this morning and when the doorbell rang, I rushed to answer it,’ she’s telling the reporter. ‘I’ve recently been the recipient of beautiful bouquets, bottles of champagne and wonderful cards from newspapers, TV companies and the general public. I’m so lucky to have such wonderful support. I’ve been carried through this dreadful ordeal by sheer human kindness,’ she gushes, a tear almost escaping from her eye. ‘After the court case I’d stopped worrying about being alone, who might be watching me or when the next text or horrible gift might arrive. So when I opened the door to find another bunch of dead flowers, I almost collapsed on the doorstep.’

  I turn up the volume on my TV. Amber’s done yet another ‘tell-all’. I was hoping the circus might have died down by now, but she won’t let it.

  ‘Do you think it’s the same person? Lucy Metcalf?’

  ‘Who knows? The police are dealing with it. I’m just focused on working on improving the anti-stalking laws. For everyone.’ She holds a tissue to her dry eye; mustn’t ruin her make-up.

  The TV reporter is lapping it up. She’s nodding slowly, her head to one side, desperately trying to look like she cares. She wants to be sad and scared for Amber, she wants to empathise, but she’s as fake as her interviewee – so excited by the story she’s practically wetting herself. Meanwhile, the cameraman’s clearly pretty excited too – positively making love to the dried-up bunch of brown roses Amber is saying were left for her this morning.

  I was going to contact her anyway. I need to make her pay for what she’s done to me, and there’s no time like the present. I’m furious. Once again my name is being dragged through the mud, so after a morning of pacing around my flat, I decide to face her head-on and warn her I’ll take legal action if she implicates me in any more of her TV drama. I dial her old number, surprised she hasn’t changed it. So she wasn’t scared of the stalker getting in touch again.

  ‘I hear you’re going to be the poster girl for anti-stalking laws,’ is my opening gambit.

  ‘Lucy, I don’t know why you’re calling me but it’s harassment. And as for my campaign, I’m not going to back down on this. You committed a crime, and in my view you haven’t paid for it.’

  ‘I haven’t paid for it… Have you any idea what I’ve been through, what I’m still going through?’ I start, but Amber is talking over me. Her story, her issue – always more important than anyone else’s.

  ‘I have set up a petition to increase sentencing for stalking and already have 50,000 signatures. After all, a six-month suspended sentence is hardly an adequate punishment for what you put me through,’ she adds. ‘And why are you calling me on this number? It’s harassment.’

  ‘Amber, you have no idea about legislation. You don’t know the first thing about changing laws, it’s just talk.’

  ‘How dare you—’ she starts.

  ‘How dare you!’ I say, and there’s steel in my voice I’ve never heard before. ‘Thanks to you I have nothing. I live alone in a bedsit, and I don’t have a job, and no chance of getting one either with this hanging over me. I see it in their eyes when I go for interviews – here comes the stalker – and they’re scared… People are scared of me, Amber.’

  ‘And quite right too,’ she snaps, still playing the victim. ‘You don’t deserve it after what you put me through.’

  ‘I didn’t put you through anything. But around the time we met, you’d been dumped by your married boyfriend. Your first married boyfriend, that is. So you lied about someone stalking you to get his attention… to get me and Matt to put a roof over your head.’

  ‘Lucy… Why are you telling these… lies? You’re just jealous because out of this horrible experience I’ve made something positive. I’m changing laws. I’m on the front pages. TV shows want me as their guest.’

  ‘How lovely that you’ve finally got what you wanted – you worked hard for it, Amber, but thanks to your so-called “celebrity”,’ I continue, ‘I don’t even have my anonymity. I can’t walk down the street without being abused. I’ve had to close my Facebook account because of the filth total strangers were posting about me. It works both ways, you see,’ I say. ‘Your fame has made you the talking point. You’re finally a water-cooler moment, Amber, but so am I. And while you’re winning, it’s destroying me.’

  ‘This is boring. I’m going to put down the phone and—’

  ‘DON’T you dare put the phone down. If you do, I will tell the press everything. All your dirty little secrets… Your childhood, your married lover, what really happened to your husband… Not to mention the knife.’

  ‘What about the knife?’ Suddenly I hear something like fear in her voice, and it gives me a delicious thrill.

  ‘That it was hidden in your car.’

  ‘Oh, you really are sad, Lucy,’ she says, brazening it out. ‘Do you really think the papers will be remotely interested in a stalker’s lies? You’re the weirdo, you’re obsessed with me and no one wants to know what you think,’ she hisses.

  ‘Oh, I think my story’s just as interesting,’ I reply, knowing all her name-calling is just bravado. I have caught her unawares. She wasn’t expecting quiet, accommodating little Lucy to fight back, but I will make her pay for what she’s done to me. ‘At first I couldn’t understand why that knife was in the boot of your car. I was actually worried – I genuinely thought you were going to use it on yourself.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous…’

  ‘Do you want to know what I think, Amber?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I think you slashed your own tyres,’ I continue regardless. ‘I think that’s why the knife was in your car. Like everyone else, I assumed the stalker did your tyres, but recently I’ve been giving it a lot of thought – and when Matt came back from rescuing you that night, I remembered he’d said he couldn’t get into the car park without a staff pass. He said the security was so tight, he had to fill in a form at the gate and still someone escorted him to you and your car – so whoever slashed your tyres had to be someone who worked there. I’m sure you had your enemies, but we know the slashing was done with a big, sharp knife – just like the one hid under the carpet in your boot. Coincidence? I don’t think so… And if you slashed your own tyres, what about the texts, the dead bird… Can you see where I’m going with this, Amber?’

  ‘Yes – the fucking loony bin! I had nothing to do with the texts, or the dead bird! They were you.’

  ‘Oh, stop it, Amber, you stalked yourself, didn’t you? One of the things you said in court was that I was never there when you received a call or a text… That’s because NO ONE was there. You’re the sicko, the psycho, the sad one. You texted yourself!’

  ‘Thank you, Miss fucking Marple, but you know damn well you were the stalker, and whatever I did or didn’t do with the knife, it doesn’t change the fact you hid it in your bloody wardrobe! Along with my pregnancy test! Do you know how fucking weird that is?’

  ‘No. I’m not the weird one, Amber,’ I say. ‘Not only were you your own stalker, just so you could get my house and my husband—’

  ‘Don’t make me laugh. I don’t want anything of yours.’

  ‘No, you never did – but you took it. You took it just because you could. You ruined my marriage, my life and you betrayed a friend, and just like my home and my marriage, our friendship might not have meant much to you, but it was everything to me. We shared our biggest secrets and promised each other we’d never tell a soul. I trusted you, and you broke your promise.’

  ‘Look, give me a break. I’d had too much cheap Prosecco and was dressed as a fucking unicorn. You seduced me into telling you things I’ve never told anyone.’

  I flash back
to that night, when she told me how she’d walked out on Michael, her husband, even after he begged her to stay.

  ‘He’d threatened to kill himself if I left,’ she said, ‘and do you know what I did, Lucy? I laughed. I laughed in his face and went off to meet Ben in our hotel, never thinking for a minute that Michael would do himself harm. But when Ben didn’t turn up and I went back to Michael, it was too late.’ I remember her crying as she told me she’d found him in bed. ‘I thought he was asleep. I climbed into bed next to him. I wanted to make it right, to say I was sorry… Ben had hurt me, but Michael was there waiting, and I reached out, touched his bare chest, and it was cold. It was a coldness I’ve never felt before or since, and yet when I put my ear to his face, I think he was still breathing… It was very shallow, but there was something.’ I asked her if she called for help – it was the first thing I would have done. ‘No, I’m ashamed to say I didn’t call for an ambulance right away.’ I asked her why, and she looked at me for a long time. ‘Because I told myself this was what he wanted. I told myself that even if he was alive, he was desperately unhappy and therefore I was being kind to him. But since then I’ve realised, it’s what I wanted. I was besotted with Ben and I didn’t love Michael any more, could never give him what he wanted, because he wanted me. It felt like the kindest thing to just lie there and hold him. Later I called for an ambulance.’

  I was shocked at this revelation. She might have been able to save him – and she chose to not even try. It wasn’t something I could have lived with, and the fact she’d told me suggested that she couldn’t keep it inside any longer. She’d carried the secret around with her for years and it was hurting. I told myself she was very young, confused, and she’d had her head turned by Ben, who seemed to me like a manipulator, even more of a user than she turned out to be – and that’s saying something.