And Now You're Back
Page 27
‘Get yourself a canvas bag. They’re much better!’
‘I will.’
They drove off. When they’d left the village behind them, Will said mildly, ‘All OK now?’
He’d seen her pale complexion, her trembling hands. ‘Fine.’
‘Given you a key to his place, has he?’ His tone was light.
Layla looked at him as he pulled up at the traffic lights. ‘No. No, he hasn’t.’
There was no point in trying to deny it. Will knew. Of course he knew.
God, she’d make a terrible international spy.
‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’ He paused. ‘I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. I’m good at being discreet.’
‘I don’t trust Harry as much as I used to.’ Layla’s neck prickled with shame; it wasn’t a comfortable admission. It made her feel like a failure.
‘What’s in the box?’
‘I don’t know, but I think it might have something to do with me. And he keeps it well hidden, so he definitely doesn’t want me to see it.’
Will nodded. ‘All the more reason to find out what it is, then.’
Since she might as well tell him the rest, Layla said, ‘Didi thinks she saw him in a car in Elliscombe on Saturday night. But Harry told me he was up in Sheffield for the whole weekend.’
‘Right.’ A hedgehog was ambling across the road and Will veered around it. When they were safely past, he said, ‘When we were in the café and you asked me if I’d seen him with someone else, I said no. But I’m pretty sure I saw him in the upstairs window of a flat overlooking the market square.’
‘Really?’ Layla’s heart sank. Incriminating details were piling up at a rate of knots.
‘Sorry.’
‘How sure?’
‘It was him. He could have been with a client, though.’
‘Did he look as if he was with a client?’
‘I don’t know. But his top half was bare.’
‘What about the bottom half?’
‘Couldn’t tell.’
‘Oh fuck. Which flat?’
‘The one above the hairdresser’s.’
Layla took out her phone.
‘Mum?’ she said when Rosa answered. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at Hillcrest with Red. I told you I’d be over here this morning.’
‘How is he?’
‘Not too bad. Better than yesterday.’
‘If I drop by, could he help me do something slightly illegal?’
‘I don’t know, let me ask him.’ Muffled whispers, then Rosa was back. ‘He says if he can do it sitting down, fine. He’s not up to breaking and entering.’
‘Great. I’ll be there in two minutes.’
Red was on the sofa, looking through an old photo album and drinking tea. His eyes went instantly to the security box she was carrying like a baby in her arms.
‘Sorry, I don’t know who else to ask. And I’m a bit desperate.’ She placed it on the coffee table in front of him. ‘Do you think you could get into this?’
‘No problem.’
‘Really? It’s a hefty padlock.’
‘Padlocks might look hefty, but they’re often simple enough to open.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘When you know how.’
‘OK, I have a confession to make.’ Rosa looked at him. ‘I threw away those lock picks of yours. I just thought you didn’t need them any more.’
‘I don’t need them. Lock picks are for the tricky ones.’ Resting his hand on the metal security box and giving it a fond pat, Red said, ‘This one’s straightforward. All I need is a couple of paper clips.’
Rosa found them and Red fashioned them into the necessary shapes; he might no longer have much strength but he was still capable of bending a paper clip.
Within ninety seconds, the padlock clicked open.
‘This is a life skill I need to learn.’ Layla’s air of flippancy was an attempt to conceal her rising dread. Red handed her the box and she lifted the lid.
There was the blue notebook she’d seen on the bed. As soon as she turned the first few pages, it was apparent what it was.
‘Oh darling.’ Rosa’s hand was on her back, rubbing comforting circles.
‘Even I never did this,’ said Red.
Harry was thorough, she’d give him that. Each of the women he’d targeted was described in meticulous detail. How and when they’d met, the tricks he’d used to make them feel special, the stories he’d told them about his life. Then there were the amounts of money they’d lent or gifted him and the estimated potential for further gifts. There were details of each woman’s age, assets and earning ability.
Layla paused when she came to her own page. There was her name, in his handwriting, and her relevant details. Aged thirty-one, single, no car, two-bedroom flat in the centre of Elliscombe. Accountant, own business, embarrassing clothes, pretty but needy. Contribution to motorbike – zero. Bed, seven out of ten. Hastily she turned the page before either Red or her mum saw. Seven out of ten? How mortifying. Her face burned with shame; how dare he? Worse still, all this time she’d told herself how great he was and it wasn’t even true. He might look fantastic, but in bed he was actually very average. More like a five than a seven. Bastard.
Oh well, that was all in the past now. She forced herself to concentrate on the next entry. Molly Kendrick was forty-one and lived in a five-bed detached house in Shipton under Wychwood worth – according to Harry – megabucks. She’d been divorced for the last three years, had twin seventeen-year-old sons and drove a brand-new red soft-top Mercedes. Lucky old Molly.
Determined not to look at the rest of Molly’s details in case she scored ten out of ten in bed, Layla flipped to the next page.
Angel Black, twenty-eight, single, silver BMW, one-bed flat (rented), senior hairstylist, new to Elliscombe, fantastic body, designer outfits, rich grandmother died in February. Gifts: £2K so far. Had promised more when the inheritance came through. £50K??
OK, this wasn’t funny. Within the space of a minute, Layla realised, she was feeling sorrier for the girl called Angel than she was for herself.
‘Oh sweetheart, you don’t deserve this.’ Rosa had leaned across to look at the page.
‘None of us do.’ Flicking back through the notebook, Layla found a dozen or so women who lived in other parts of the country and evidently pre-dated Harry’s move here. She said to Red, ‘Thanks for opening the box. If it hadn’t been anything bad, I’d have put everything back where I found it. But I don’t think I need to do that now.’
‘Good girl.’ Red nodded his approval as she rose to her feet.
Rosa was looking worried. ‘Where are you going? What are you going to do?’
‘I think other people might be interested to see this.’ Layla slipped the book into her shoulder bag.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
‘I’m OK.’
Will was waiting for her outside the house.
‘Where to?’ He put away his iPad and started the engine, then glanced sideways at her. ‘The place where I saw . . .?’
‘Yes.’
Chapter 39
There were three people working in the salon. One was a middle-aged woman in a cardigan and a flowered frock, one was a snake-hipped man in white jeans and a fashionably ripped Freddie Mercury T-shirt, and the third was Angel, tiny and beautiful with spiky white-blonde hair, and wearing a truly microscopic pink Lycra dress.
Layla lurked outside until the stylist had finished blow-drying her client’s hair, then made her way in and asked if she could have a quick word.
‘Oh I’m sorry,’ said Angel. ‘I’m fully booked all day. But if you’re really desperate, Matt could probably squeeze you in.’
Matt said good-naturedly, ‘Our Angel has a way with words. You don’t have to be really desperate.’
‘I’m not here about my hair,’ said Layla. ‘Do you know someone called Harry?’
Angel’s eyes lit up. ‘He’s my boyfriend!’
Two minutes later, Angel let out a shriek of fury and hurled the notebook across the back room. ‘That absolute fucker. All he was ever after was my gran’s money.’
‘Oh babe,’ said Matt.
‘He told me he loved me!’ She turned to Layla. ‘Did he say it to you too?’
Layla nodded.
‘He has a busy schedule,’ Matt said. ‘From the look of that list in there, I’m about the only person he hasn’t said it to.’
‘You told me there was something iffy about him.’ Angel heaved a sigh of frustration.
‘He never wanted to go anywhere with you, doll. All that ever happened was he came over to your flat, and then the two of you’d stay in and have sex non-stop. Oh, sorry.’ He gestured apologetically to Layla. ‘But it’s what he did.’
‘Not even very good sex,’ Angel said with an air of defiance.
‘What? You told us he was fantastic!’
‘It’s what you have to tell people when it’s your boyfriend,’ Angel retorted.
‘Oh babe. At least you’ve found out the truth before you gave him any more money.’
Angel checked the time on her phone. ‘This is so annoying. I want to go and tell him exactly what I think of him, but I’m stuck here until six and can’t let my clients down.’
Layla said, ‘Why don’t we meet up this evening? I think we need a plan.’
On the way to Shipton under Wychwood, she studied the rest of Molly Kendrick’s details. Molly’s contribution to the Harry Fund had initially been five hundred pounds, then last week she’d added to it with a further three thousand pound payment.
‘She might not even be there,’ said Layla as they entered the village.
Will’s tone was reassuring. ‘No worries. We can always come back later.’
He was being so nice. If anything could bring her to tears, it was his calm manner and the fact that he hadn’t said I told you so once.
‘Should I even be doing this? Maybe it’s none of my business and I ought to just let him get on with it.’
‘Don’t even think that,’ said Will. ‘My mother got taken in by a confidence trickster after my dad died. It broke her heart and she never recovered.’
And then her physical problems had begun, leaving her practically housebound for years. Layla was appalled. ‘Oh Will, I didn’t know. How awful. I’m sorry.’
‘Looks like Molly’s at home.’ He braked as they reached the address Harry had listed, a detached Cotswold home smothered in wisteria. And there, parked at a jaunty angle on the gravelled driveway, was the red Mercedes.
‘OK, here we go again. Wish me luck.’
‘You’ve got this,’ said Will as she climbed out of the car. ‘He’s the one who’s going to need the luck.’
Molly Kendrick had been mowing her lawn; she was a busty brunette with crystal-encrusted talons for nails and a big welcoming smile that faded as soon as Layla mentioned Harry by name.
‘Come in, tell me why you’re here. Oh God, is this bad news? If you’re his wife, I swear I didn’t know. He told me he was single.’
‘I’m definitely not his wife. But I did think I was his only girlfriend.’ Layla passed her the notebook. ‘Looks like he’s been telling all of us a few lies.’
In her manicured back garden with its stunning flower beds and half-mown lawn, Molly Kendrick read the relevant pages in silence. Finally she looked up and said, ‘Just when you think you’ve found someone decent at last.’
‘I know the feeling.’
‘If we went to the police, he’d just say we’d given him the money. He didn’t steal it.’
Layla nodded; she had realised that too.
‘Three and a half grand he cost me. And a brand-new iPhone, the bastard.’
That explained the flashy new phone, the one he’d apparently won in an online competition. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d want to know,’ said Layla. ‘But I had to tell you.’
‘I just wish it wasn’t too early for a drink. I could murder a gin and tonic. Actually, I could murder bloody Harry.’ Molly’s hooped earrings rattled as she shook her head. ‘But I won’t, because how would I ever find a good man in a women’s prison?’
‘I like this place,’ said Angel. ‘I can’t believe I’ve never been here before. It’s gorgeous!’ They were in Bourton on the Water and the church bells had just chimed six. Harry would be home soon. The three women sat on the wooden bench at the water’s edge, just across the road from his flat.
‘He kept us compartmentalised,’ said Molly. ‘He told me he lived in his grandmother’s cottage and she was always there; that was why we spent all our time at my house.’
‘Same.’ Angel nodded.
Layla said, ‘Which was why he never came to my place. Because he was already seeing you, and I only live a few hundred yards down the road. I had to come here instead.’
‘Is his flat nice?’ Angel was curious.
‘No! Horrible bath towels.’ Layla shuddered at the memory of them, and the ghastly bed linen. ‘And he never had any fresh milk in the fridge.’
‘Can I just say?’ Molly touched the sleeve of Layla’s purple satin shirt. ‘I don’t think your clothes are embarrassing. I think you look great.’
‘We all do. We are great,’ Layla declared. She’d already resolved that Harry’s snide comment wasn’t going to stop her wearing the outfits she loved.
‘Here we go.’ Angel sat up straight as the sound of a motorbike made itself heard. ‘I’m looking forward to this now.’
Layla was too. The three of them were currently shielded from view by the huge weeping willow tree overhanging the river. They watched through the low-hanging green fronds as Harry parked the motorbike – his pride and joy – and climbed off it, then removed his helmet. When he turned to head towards his front door, Layla jumped up and hurried across the strip of grass separating them.
‘Surprise!’
He swung round. ‘Hello! Another surprise? You should call before you come over.’
‘Why?’
‘Why d’you think? Because I might not be here.’
Behind him, Molly and Angel were making their two-pronged approach. Layla said cheerfully, ‘Oh, I thought you meant because you might be meeting someone else.’
He looked taken aback. ‘What d’you mean?’
‘Hiya!’ sang Angel, materialising to the left of him.
Harry’s smile vanished.
‘Hello, darling!’ Molly appeared to his right.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ said Harry, realising he was trapped.
‘You could say that,’ Molly beamed.
His eyes darted between the three of them; he was like a cornered wild animal.
‘Oh Harry. What a pathetic creature you are,’ said Molly.
‘Seriously? You think I’m pathetic? Look at all of you.’ He was sneering now, the charming, charismatic personality a thing of the past. Except it had never existed, not really. It had, Layla reminded herself, all been an act. ‘How did you find out anyway?’
‘A woman from Sheffield contacted me,’ Layla told him. Not true, but it was worth a punt.
‘Which one? Was it Estelle? She’s a fucking bitch.’
But she was a fucking bitch who’d lost her husband three years ago and had been persuaded to lend Harry four thousand pounds he’d evidently had no intention of ever repaying. Had he been doing this for years, moving around the country each time he was found out? What a way to live your life, thought Layla.
‘Actually, I found this.’ She took the notebook out of her oversized sequinned shoulder bag.
Harry’s face darkened. ‘How did you get hold of that? It’s mine. You can’t take things that belong to other people.’
Molly snorted with laughter.
‘I just borro
wed it,’ Layla said innocently.
‘Like you borrowed three and a half grand from me, remember?’ Molly gave him an encouraging nod. ‘But you haven’t managed to start paying any of it back.’
‘Oh give me a break. You’re loaded.’ He glared at her.
‘And you’re a liar and a cheat. Never mind, I’ve spoken to my solicitor—’
‘For fuck’s sake.’ Harry let out a howl of outrage, suddenly spotting Will standing a few yards away, filming the encounter on his phone. ‘What d’you think you’re doing? Fuck off, the lot of you, and leave me alone.’
‘Oh don’t be like that,’ Molly protested. ‘You told me you loved me!’
‘You told me that too,’ said Angel.
‘And me.’ Layla shrugged as Harry turned and stormed off towards his flat. ‘Oh well, bye!’
The front door almost bounced off its hinges as it slammed shut behind him.
‘Dammit, that’s annoying,’ said Molly. ‘I forgot to tell him he was a four.’
Angel shook her head. ‘That’s too generous.’
‘Did you get the whole thing?’ Layla asked Will.
He grinned and pressed the button to stop recording. ‘Absolutely. Got it all.’
‘I’ll send him a text before I block him,’ Molly said with satisfaction. ‘Let him know that if we ever hear he’s been up to any more nonsense, we’ll post the video on YouTube and send the link to every fitness club in the UK.’
Chapter 40
Shay was sitting beside his father’s bed in the living room, listening to the sound of his breathing as he slept. How much time did they have left?
Not long now.
It was the third week of October. Summer had ended abruptly a fortnight ago and autumn had swept in with a vengeance. The trees had turned orange and ochre as the temperature dropped, an almighty storm had shaken the first swathes of leaves from their branches, and squirrels had darted to and fro across the lawn, collecting and burying fallen nuts.
Not at this time of night, though. Outside, an owl was hooting peacefully and in the far distance a fox barked.
Red opened his eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Nothing. Just sitting.’
‘What time is it?’