Lead Me Home: a clever and engrossing psychological thriller

by CS Savage

  Clancy fed back about Beth, how paranoid she seemed, that she was refusing to take medication or see the home treatment team. 'I'm going to try to build her trust, spend some time with her. I think I can persuade her to take her tablets.' Hopefully, another admission, which Beth was clearly very averse to, could be avoided. She could hear Dan breathing as she spoke, so looked away from him. As usual, he couldn't keep his trap shut, he interrupted her, his voice at least two decibels louder than necessary.

  'Look, you just need to get on with it and treat this patient. You haven't got the time to be running around the borough trying to make her trust you. I want you to do two clinics tomorrow.'

  She was acutely aware of her face flushing. What a dickhead. She just managed to stop herself from shouting it out loud, instead managed to steady her voice. 'If it makes you feel any better, I'll see her out of hours. Just give her a chance.'

  'I've told you, no. I don't want you seeing her at home, and that's final. Hamish, can you follow her up, please?'

  Hamish looked embarrassed as he answered yes, throwing Clancy a pained expression. She gritted her teeth, managed to say nothing, but could feel her blood boiling and her head pounded even harder.

  Half an hour later, the meeting drew to an end. Dan rose and strode out of the room, everyone else collected their things and wandered after him. Clancy followed Hamish, caught up with him in the corridor. 'A word?'

  Hamish nodded, followed her into the office.

  'Look, I really think it's a bad idea you contacting Beth. I sort of…' Clancy paused, 'built a connection with her yesterday. If you get involved, you'll just scare her off. If I go after work, it's got nothing to do with Dan. I'll let you know tomorrow how things go? I know you've got so much on…' She arranged her face into what she thought was her sweetest possible smile, really hoped for more than Beth's sake that it had some impact on him.

  'Well…ok then, tomorrow. Don't say anything to Dan, though. If you can't get her to change her mind in a couple of days, then I'll have to do what he says.' Hamish's face was etched with uncertainty, she hated adding to his woes, but felt like punching the air with delight after he okayed her plan.

  'Thanks.' She started to smile, but her face soon froze when he started speaking again.

  'By the way, did you get anywhere with that patient, Lowe?

  'Nothing yet…I'm waiting for Steve to get back to me.' She turned and dragged herself back to her office. She'd try Steve again later.

  19

  Beth

  Her phone ringing interrupted her reverie, but the call was showing up as “unknown.” No way she was answering that. A bleep a minute after the call alerted her to a message, and she leant across the table for the phone, picked it up and dialled voicemail. Dr Mclean asked her how she was today, and if she would call her back. Beth was torn. She so wanted to hear a kind voice, but she knew she wasn't ill, so why would she speak to a doctor? Five minutes later, the phone rang again, still showing a withheld number, this time, she answered.

  'Hi Beth, Dr Mclean here. Just ringing to see how you are.'

  Beth tried to reply, but felt her voice choking.

  'Are you ok? What's wrong?' She could hear the concern in Dr Mclean's voice. She desperately didn't want Dr Mclean to hear that she was upset, but she couldn't keep her sobs in.

  'Are you on your own, Beth?'

  Eventually, she managed to cough up a reply. 'Yes. I'm fine, though. I've just been keeping to myself. And staying in. It's too scary out there.'

  'I'm in your area this afternoon, Beth. Would it be ok if I pop in to see you?'

  She didn't want to agree, started to search through her mind for the words to refuse. But the thickness in her throat, the tears that were welling, made her falter. It would be a relief to see someone, have some comfort. She spoke hesitantly, 'Yeah, ok, then...'

  'Great. I'll be with you in an hour.' The line went dead.

  She sat still on the sofa and waited, watching the dust motes floating in the air in the weak rays of sunshine. Surveying the room, she took in the carpet, littered with empty wrappers, the coffee table laden with glasses and empty diet coke bottles. She had done no cleaning or washing up for days. The foetid smell of garbage wafted in from the kitchen. She dragged herself off the couch, leaving a grubby sleeping bag behind her, and into the bathroom, where she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was flat with grease, her eyes puffy and sunken, her skin pale and blemished. She thought hard but couldn't remember her last shower. After walking to the kitchen, she opened the fridge door and peered in. It was empty bar some eggs, well out of date, and some ketchup.

  She needed to pull herself together, to get her life back on track. But she couldn't do anything apart from worry about who was following her. If she tried to watch TV or read, the same thoughts distracted her. They circled round and round in her head. She had slept – well, tried to – in the lounge last night, the door fully bolted, a hammer placed under the sofa. She would be ready if anyone broke in.

  The noise of the doorbell almost made her spill the glass of water in front of her. Rousing herself, Beth made her way to the front door, not getting there before the bell rang again. She checked through the spyhole before starting the process of unlocking the door, undoing the slide bolts at the top and bottom before turning the Chubb lock and finally releasing the Yale catch. She had had good locks fitted the last time someone had been following her, although she didn't always use them.

  As the door swung open, Dr Mclean leant forward, her curly greying hair spiralling out of the hair band. 'Can I come in?'

  Beth pulled the door open but looked up and down the street furtively before shutting the door behind them and re-bolting it. 'Come through.'

  They made their way into the kitchen diner, past the unkempt lounge, which Dr Mclean didn't comment on. She sat herself at the table and motioned at Dr Mclean to join her.

  'How have things been, Beth?'

  'The same. I'm still being followed, I've no idea why or by who. It's not safe to go out. I haven't even been able to go and get shopping.'

  'Has anyone been getting stuff for you?'

  'No, there is no-one.' She hesitated. 'Suze and I had a fall out. She didn't believe me, told me I should take medication. No-one understands, I know it sounds paranoid, but no-one else is here. They can't see what's going on. I shouldn't really be talking to you. I did ring the police, though. They said they would send someone round to talk to me, but no-one’s been yet...'

  'Look, you can't keep staying in like this. Why don't you come out for a walk with me?'

  'And how are you supposed to keep me safe?' she replied. 'You're not exactly Superwoman.' But, after a lengthy pause, and shrinking under Dr Mclean’s gaze, she eventually spoke. 'I'm not up for going out now but perhaps tomorrow, if you could make it?'

  'Great. I'll come round at five?'

  As soon as Beth had agreed, she wanted to scream, “No…I can't do it!” She knew she was going to worry all night.

  20

  Rowan

  It was dark as the bus drove towards Sutton. Other passengers were wrapped in coats; people still felt the need to huddle in scarves, cover their hands with gloves. She didn't understand why they made so much fuss, it wasn't that cold. The bus held a faint odour of damp clothes, and the windows ran with condensation, blurring the view of house-lined streets. Curtains were drawn, slivers of light visible through the drapes.

  As she got off the bus by the post office, she hugged her jacket into herself then walked down St Nicholas Way towards the cinema. The streets were already quiet. When she got to the pub, it was dark, and she was hot and flustered despite the chill in the air – her leather trousers stuck to her legs. Vic was sitting at a small wooden table by the open fire, a pint of lager placed in front of him. He looked at her as she entered, his face upturned, his lips impassive. He was dressed in smart black jeans and a white open necked shirt that set off his skin and eyes. For once, he looked relaxed
, his legs stretched out in front of the fire.

  Rowan let out a satisfied sigh. Thank God for that. She stood up straight and walked past the crowd at the bar towards him, vaguely aware of a group of lads in paint-stained tracksuit bottoms following her with their eyes. She swung her hips in response, but immediately regretted it when she saw the deep furrows form on Vic's forehead. It was as if his face had suddenly been frozen in anger. She smiled at him brightly, sat down in the chair next to him and grabbed his hand, but he snatched it back and snapped, 'Do you have to dress like a slag? All those men are ogling you…'

  She bit her lip, felt the tears welling up. 'I wanted to look nice for you. This outfit isn't tarty.' But the damage was done, she could see that Vic's previous good temper had evaporated. She leant towards him and stroked his leg. 'It doesn't matter, you know I love you.'

  He didn't reply, still looking towards the bar. She tried to catch his attention by picking up the menu that was standing between them, sandwiched between the salt and pepper pots.

  'Shall I order us some food?' she asked, though her appetite was rapidly disappearing. She could feel her pulse racing with adrenaline. She starting to scan down the menu, made a couple of suggestions, but Vic just shook his head. Eventually, he gave a slight nod when she suggested steak. He didn't look like he was going to offer to order, so she stood up and headed to the bar, carefully keeping her eyes to the floor as she passed the men. But as she got there, one of them stood back, waving her forwards and smiling at her.

  'There you go, love…'

  In seconds Vic was by her side, staring the man down. 'Leave her alone, you dick,' he shouted, grabbing Rowan by the arm. She tried to pull her arm away and gave the offending male an embarrassed smile, but Vic dragged her across the floor towards the door.

  'Come on, we're going.'

  The lad stood back. She saw him look at her, his face concerned, but she moved her head side to side. He was slightly built and nowhere near Vic's height, so even though he was with company, she didn't want him to provoke a fight. She knew Vic wouldn't back down. She banged her elbow on the doorframe as Vic dragged her out of the pub. Ouch.

  Fifty yards down the road, he turned and slammed her up against a wall, her head cracked back with a painful thump. Now, she looked desperately around her for anyone who might intervene, but all was quiet on the street. Vic leant against her, shoving her up against the plaster, the rough pimples pressing into her back. She could smell the dank odour of sodden cement mingled with Vic's sweat. He reached behind her and grabbed her hair, twisting it and pulling it tightly, snapping her head to the side, revealing the soft skin at the back of her neck.

  'Ouch, you're hurting me.' she shrieked, but Vic responded by slapping his free hand over her mouth, pressing her body harder into the wall with his hips. She squirmed, tried to wriggle out from under his grip, but he held her, pinching her face roughly between his fingers. She opened her eyes, stared at him, but his expression was wild, his eyes wide and glazed, his teeth clenched. He held her firm, rammed his hips against her, she could feel hardness through his trousers.

  'Don't you ever do that to me again, you slag'. The tears were running down her face now. He thrust against her. 'This is what you deserve, you whore. I don't know why I bother with you, you cunt.' He sneered, and then lowered his head to the soft whiteness of her neck and pressed his lips to her. Before she knew it, he had her skin between his teeth. He clamped them down on her, biting deeply into the soft flesh. She felt her back arch as if she had been electrocuted, the acute pain pulsed through her. She tried to shriek, but no noise emerged from behind the clamped hand.

  'You belong to me. Never forget, slag,' he said, before spitting on her face, and dropping her suddenly. She fell to the ground as he let her go, collapsed in a crumpled pile on the street, sobbing into her hands. She saw Vic turn and race off down the street, without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

  She rested her head against the wall, rubbed the tears from her face, put her hand up to her neck and ran her fingers over the tender bumps of skin, wincing at the pain. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She thought over and again about what she had done to upset him so much, she hadn't encouraged anyone; it had just been a random guy. She felt like walking back into the pub and slapping the man that had set all this off. Why couldn't he have just left her alone? But she was too humiliated for that. Tearfully, she picked herself up, pressed the bruises on the back of her head, and wrapped her jacket around her before heading towards the bus stop. She didn't know what to do; she couldn't possibly tell anyone about this. Her face flushed at the thought of anyone knowing what had happened, the words that he had said.

  The house was quiet when she arrived home. She opened the front door and felt the chill hit her – no heating, no mum. She walked to the kitchen. She needed oblivion. She rifled through kitchen cupboards knowing that her mum would have a stock of wine and found a couple of bottles. That would do. She moved to the medicine cupboard in search of some painkillers. Her spirits rose slightly as she found some pills. She threw six onto the kitchen table, grabbed the corkscrew and opened the wine, pouring a large glass. She tossed a pinchful of pills into her mouth and gulped down half of the glass of wine. After three full glasses, she headed up to her bedroom. She wrapped herself under her duvet, cuddling in to its warmth. Screwing her eyes shut, she tried to empty her mind and waited for sleep to take her.

  21

  Clancy

  By the time she had pulled into a parking space opposite her house and parked the Golf under the street lamp, Clancy’s body felt limp. Her shoulders ached as she gathered her things. She locked the car door behind her and headed up the narrow garden path to her front door. When she entered, all was dark. It looked like Ro was out. She went to the thermostat and turned the heating up before walking through to the kitchen. Light shone through the kitchen windows from the lamps behind the house, so she just slumped into one of the kitchen chairs and leant back, rubbing her neck.

  She found the nearly-empty wine bottle and empty glass on the table. Rowan had clearly helped herself before she went out. Cheeky cow...she has a nerve. Not that Clancy really minded. Instead, as soon as she sat, her mind went back to Beth and what she was going to do about her. She wished she could get through to the girl, who was risking getting more psychotic, an admission to hospital, and putting her job on the line. As the thoughts filled her head, she opened the fridge door in search of food. She found a ready meal and popped it in the microwave, grabbed a clean glass and poured the remains of Rowan's wine into it before taking a glug. She grinned as she opened a text message from Hamish.

  Hope all ok your end. Are you up for a walk with Mills at the weekend? x

  One kiss…good or bad?

  Clancy tapped out a reply.

  Walk at the weekend would be fab, Saturday afternoon suit you? x

  She pressed send and then went back to her notes.

  All was silent apart from the sound of distant traffic, but then a crack, like a breaking twig, disturbed her concentration.

  She looked up sharply, stared out of the window, the blinds still not drawn. She tilted her head to the side and listened keenly for more sound. After moments of silence, another crack.

  She rose and started towards the back door, rummaged for the key, shoved it in and wrenched it open. Staring into the garden, she could make out a dark shadow. She lunged back, blinking, as a face appeared before her. But then came a reassuring voice.

  'Hi, it's me, Vic.'

  'For fuck’s sake. What the hell are you doing out here? You nearly gave me heart failure!'

  Vic looked frozen, and his face was downcast. He was clutching a bunch of daffodils. 'Sorry. There were no lights on. I didn't know if Ro was in, I wanted to give her these,' he said, holding the daffs up.

  Clancy's heart started to slow down. 'Why on earth didn't you just ring the doorbell?'

  'I wanted to…surprise her.'

  'Well, she's no
t in,' Clancy replied. 'Sorry'.

  'Could I possibly go and leave these in her room for her?' Vic asked, looking out at Clancy from under his dark lashes.

  Sometimes, she wished she was young and romantic again. She waved him in and up the stairs. 'Quickly. I'm going to bed in a bit.’

  She watched as Vic gave her a huge smile before racing up the stairs to Rowan's room without looking back. Five minutes later, he popped his head round the kitchen door.

  'Thanks…I'm off now. Have a good night.' And the front door slammed shut behind him.

  22

  Rowan

  She ran her hand over the bruise on her neck and winced. The small scabs where his teeth had broken the skin felt gritty under her fingers, like clogged sand. She felt a dull ache in her breast and palpated it gently – it was definitely tender. How did that happen? It must have got bruised when he was squeezing her into the wall.

  Pulling the duvet up over her head, she tried to block out the light, and with it, the memories of last night. But they remained, dark like coal. Sleep would not return. Throwing the duvet off, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. As she did so, she became aware of something lying on the pillow next to her. Sliding her hand towards it, her fingers made contact with stems. She picked them up – a small bunch of daffodils, pale lemon, beautifully formed. How did they get here? She looked at her bedroom door – shut. Surely no one could have placed them there in the night, her mum would never do such a thing. And then, she saw a sheet of crumpled paper, loopy writing.

  Remember, you will always be mine xxx

  No signature, but she recognised that handwriting. She couldn't believe it. How had he got in? Maybe he gave them to her mum to put there, but he wouldn't have wanted her to read a note like that. She shivered and dropped her face to her hands. This was getting intense.