‘Do you know what it’s like to lose someone you love?’ she asked, staring at the carpet. ‘It feels like your insides have been ripped out – your heart stamped on,’ she said, fighting through tears.
‘I understand,’ Emma said. ‘My mother died.’ She understood all too well what it was like to lose someone who you loved so much that it physically hurt to think about them not being there anymore.
Mrs Myers raised her head and looked Emma directly in the eyes. Then she stepped forward. Emma stood her ground as she approached.
‘Em,’ Lizzy said, concerned.
‘It’s okay,’ Emma said, bringing an arm out towards the knife, which was now held loosely. But before she could get it, Mrs Myers released her grip completely and the knife fell onto the carpet, narrowly missing Emma’s foot.
‘C’mon,’ Emma said, leading Mrs Myers to the sofa and sitting her down. ‘Just sit down for a while.’
As she did this, Lizzy picked up the knife.
‘What shall I do with this?’ Lizzy said, holding the knife by its very end as if it was contaminated.
‘Better keep hold of it for now,’ Emma said.
Lizzy pulled a painful face. ‘Shall we call…you know?’
‘Please, don’t.’
Emma and Lizzy started with shock as a bearded man stood in the doorway.
‘Please, don’t call anyone,’ he said, stepping into the lounge. ‘She has a mental health nurse. I’ll call her.’
‘Are you Mr Myers?’ Emma asked, standing up.
‘I am, but please, call me Peter,’ he said. He held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Emma. Well, I can’t pretend I don’t know who you are,’ he said, noticing her surprise. ‘Not with all those photographs up in that bloody bedroom.’
‘Nice to meet you too,’ Emma said, taking his hand. It was weird having strangers recognising her. That was what real fame would be like, and she wasn’t sure she liked it.
‘I guess you’re here to see Stephen,’ he said.
‘We wanted to talk to him, yes,’ Emma replied, noting that Mr Myers looked even more like Stephen than his wife did.
‘Well you’d better come with me,’ he said. ‘I can take you to where he is.’
***
‘I’m sorry you had to see Margaret like that,’ Peter Myers said, a few minutes into the journey in his van, which was emblazoned with adverts for his handyman business - locksmith, electrical and computer repairs, plumbing, no job too small. ‘I had no idea things had got so bad.’
He hadn’t told them where they were going; just that he was taking them to see his son. And although Emma will still nervous about seeing Stephen, she felt comforted by Peter Myers’ presence. While his father was there, she doubted Stephen would do anything stupid. And he might just be more likely to tell the truth about what had happened.
‘You don’t live there anymore?’ Emma asked, thinking too late that it was a terribly personal question.
‘Not for a few months,’ he said, turning the corner and accelerating along the main road, ‘although I do keep popping in, just to make sure that she’s okay.’
‘She seems really depressed,’ Emma said.
‘She is. She’s not been well for a while, although it’s been getting worse since I left, if I’m honest with myself. She used to be such a proud woman, especially where the house is concerned. But now, well, you saw what it’s like.’
‘She seems like she needs help really badly.’
‘I know,’ he acknowledged, ‘and she does get the mental health nurse visiting her. But she stopped taking her drugs regularly and things got worse from then on. That’s one of the reasons why I left. I just couldn’t cope any more. I know it sounds selfish, but I just had to get away, for my own sanity.’
‘Is it something to do with Stephen?’ Emma asked, ‘her being depressed? Lizzy heard her shouting his name, and she was talking to me about how he had left her.’
‘It all started with Stephen,’ he said, ‘but now it’s taken on a momentum of its own. To be honest, if he walked back through the door tomorrow, I think it would probably be too late.’
‘She told me he called her a few weeks ago,’ Emma said.
‘She said that?’ Peter Myers was clearly shocked, and for a second it took his attention away from the road.
‘Yes, she definitely said he had called her.’
He shook his head. ‘I really need to call that nurse and tell her that something needs sorting out.’
‘You don’t think he did call her?’
‘No,’ he said, turning right and then taking a sharp left into a country lane.
They continued, in silence, down the lane for a few hundred yards before pulling to a stop against the side of a dry-stone wall.
‘We’re here,’ Peter said, undoing his seatbelt and getting out of the car. They climbed out too and followed him as he moved towards the wall. As Emma looked over the wall she saw that they had parked next to a cemetery – she gazed across at the hundreds of gravestones that ran off downhill into the distance.
‘Follow me,’ he said, climbing over the wall and heading off, weaving through the gravestones. Emma and Lizzy followed, not speaking. Just a few metres from where he had parked the car he stopped and waited.
When they caught up to him he simply pointed at Stephen Myers' headstone.
PART TWO
23
‘I can’t believe it’s been four years,’ Peter Myers said, staring at the headstone. ‘The time has gone so quickly, but so many things have changed.’
Emma didn’t know what to say.
‘I’m really sorry, Mr Myers,’ she said, feeling like a complete fraud for standing in front of this man’s grave and uttering words of condolence. But even though she had feared Stephen, and learned to hate his puppy dog like attention, there was always a part of her that had still felt compassion for him. He was certainly a sad, pitiful figure – the sort of person who seemed destined never to be truly happy. Emma wondered whether destiny was set in stone in that way.
‘I always thought it could end up like this,’ Peter said, as if reading Emma’s thoughts, ‘even from when Stephen was a young child. There was always something different about him, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He was so intense, in everything he did. Obsessive really – like he was with you.’ He turned to Emma. Emma smiled a weak smile back. ‘I’m just so sorry for all he put you through.’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Emma dismissed.
‘Still,’ he said, ‘you don’t forget those kinds of things in a hurry, do you?’
Emma shook her head.
‘As soon as I found out what he was doing to you, I tried my best to reason with him,’ he said, ‘but he really believed that you were in love. I know it seems hard to understand, but he’d create alternative realities, and for him they were the truth. We took him to see specialists, psychiatrists, but it didn’t really make any difference.’
‘Like I said, that was a long time ago.’
‘Yes.’
‘How did Stephen die?’ Emma asked, wanting and not wanting to know in almost equal amounts.
‘He committed suicide,’ Peter said.
A sickening stab hit Emma right in the stomach. He’d killed himself, and it was around the time of the restraining order, when reality had probably finally hit home that she didn’t want to be with him.
‘The few weeks before he died,’ Peter said, ‘Stephen had been acting stranger than usual. I should have realised something was about to happen. He’d disappear for days at a time, and then just walk back in the house as if nothing had happened, like some kind of Tom Cat. Margaret was going out of her mind with worry, and he wouldn’t even explain where he’d been. I got used to it, I suppose. I think I just tried not to think about it. But then one time he didn’t come home for days. The police found him, in a canal about three miles from here. He’d used a knife to cut himself and then jumped or fell into the water. Some peo
ple on a narrow boat found him, hidden in some rushes.’
‘Do you think it was because of me,’ Emma said, ‘because of the restraining order?’
‘You’re not to blame,’ he said. ‘If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else.’
‘Did Stephen ever come to London to find me?’
‘He may have done,’ he admitted. ‘But I doubt it. He didn’t really like being in unfamiliar places. That’s why he always hung around outside those damn television studios – we used to take him there when he was younger, hoping to bump into some TV stars.’
‘It’s just that I found a photo in his bedroom, and it was taken when I was in London.’
‘Near my flat,’ Lizzy added.
‘Then I guess he did,’ he said. ‘As I said, he went missing for days at a time, so he could have gone anywhere and we’d have been none the wiser. I’m sorry you had to see his room, with those photos. I wanted to take all those things down, after, you know, but Margaret wouldn’t hear of it. The place is like a shrine, and I haven’t been in that room for years. I just can’t stand it. It’s like that with the whole house now. That’s why I had to get out.’
‘What will happen to Margaret? Will she be okay?’
He shrugged. ‘I hope so.’
***
‘He didn’t ask why we were looking for Stephen,’ Lizzy said, as they began their drive back down to London.
‘I’m glad,’ Emma admitted. ‘I felt bad enough without him thinking that I suspected Stephen of attacking Richard.’
‘But it was a perfectly reasonable assumption.’
‘I jumped to conclusions.’
‘Anyone would have thought the same, especially after what Mrs Henderson said, with the number one fan thing.’
‘He’s been dead for four years, Lizzy. Lying in the ground – all that time when I thought I saw him in the street. I’ve been accusing him of things all this time.’
‘You don’t blame yourself, do you?’
‘No,’ Emma said, ‘not really. Oh, I don’t know, I guess I do feel partly responsible. I can’t help thinking that if I’d handled it differently, then maybe…’
‘Don’t,’ Lizzy chastised, ‘there was nothing you could have done. His father said it himself – they were his family and couldn’t do anything to help him. So you wouldn’t have been able to change anything.’
‘Maybe,’ Emma conceded.
‘You’re too hard on yourself, Emma,’ Lizzy said. ‘Bad things happen, and sometimes you can’t do anything about it.’
‘Bad things like what’s happening with Dan and Richard?’
‘It might all work out, Em.’
The journey home was torturous – there had been an accident on the M6 Southbound, closing two lanes. The traffic had tailed back for twenty miles at one point and it took seven hours to get back to London. Emma stopped by her apartment, partly to pick up any phone messages but also in the vain hope that Dan might be there, all apologetic. But the apartment was dark, cold and empty.
There was only one message on the machine.
Hi, it’s Marie from Perfect Brides. I’m just calling to confirm the message your boyfriend left on our answer phone last night, about cancelling the wedding dress. If you can give me a call back as soon as possible, that would be great.
24
Emma took an early morning tube south of the river, alone. Lizzy had wanted to come with her, but she had to attend rehearsals, and no matter how much she joked about being indispensable there would be limits to the director’s patience.
The sunshine had returned, and the day was already warming up nicely – it couldn’t have been more different to the weather they had experienced up North.
She reached the Perfect Brides shop, and paused for a moment outside the decorative window, filled with mannequins sporting expensive dresses and large photographs of happy couples posing in typical English gardens. Her heart sank as she surveyed the shop front, thinking back to all the times she had visited previously, full of hopes and dreams.
As Emma stood outside, Marie noticed her through the glass, but pretended she hadn’t seen, letting her take her own time.
Emma took a deep breath and entered the shop.
‘Hi,’ Emma said, heading for the familiar face of Marie.
‘Hi, Emma,’ Marie said, ‘I’m sorry about all this.’
Marie had worked in Perfect Brides for six years now, and was quite an expert in dealing with distraught women coming terms with an aborted marriage. When Marie had first started in the shop, she had no idea how much of a counselling role she would have to play. She had learnt from experience that it was important to curb the sympathy, for risk of upsetting the person too much. And nobody wanted a breakdown scenario.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Marie said, ‘or we have coffee?’
‘I’m okay,’ Emma said, feeling emotionally smothered by the wedding paraphernalia that met her at every turn. ‘I’d just like to listen to the message and leave, to be honest. I can sort out anything else by phone can’t I?’
‘Of course,’ Marie said.
Usually things happened in the way it had done with Emma, with the potential groom backing out – the unusual part of this case was that the potential groom himself had called them to tell them the news.
‘It’s in the back office,’ Marie said, ‘just come around the counter and follow me.’
Emma waited as Marie stood over the answering machine, pressing various buttons. Her heart was racing with anticipation. She hadn’t heard Dan’s voice in days now, and she didn’t know how she would react if it was indeed Dan who had left the message. She couldn’t deny that a part of her still refused to believe that it had been Dan who had cancelled the wedding dress.
‘This should be it,’ Marie said, pressing a button and stepping back from the machine.
Hello, it’s Dan Carlton here. I was with Emma Holden.
Emma felt sick; it was Dan, although his voice sounded subtly different than usual – almost automated, yet there seemed a hint of a quiver.
She asked me to call you, to cancel the wedding dress. We’re not together anymore. Sorry for the late notice. Thanks, Bye.
The machine beeped off.
‘That was the whole message?’ Emma said.
‘Sorry,’ Marie said, ‘that was all we got. That’s why I thought it was best to give you a call and just confirm what Dan told us.’
‘Thanks,’ Emma said, ‘I’m relieved really – at least I know he’s okay.’
Marie looked puzzled, but tried to hide her interest.
‘Dan disappeared last Friday,’ Emma explained. ‘And that’s the first time I’ve heard from him since.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. He just left without saying anything?’
Emma nodded.
‘That’s awful,’ she said, ‘really awful.’
Emma held back the tears until she stepped out of the shop. Then the floodgates opened, and she ducked into an alleyway to hide her embarrassment. She wasn’t used to showing her weakness in public – she had always had to be the strong one for the family – and she wasn’t about to let herself down now. She dried her eyes. Again, she had been a fool, first putting her trust into someone who had let her down, and then refusing to believe the reality of the situation when it was clear to see.
Emma leant against the brick wall. Her first reaction was to call Lizzy, but she would be in the middle of rehearsals by now. Instead she called Will, but the call rang through to his message service. Lastly she called her dad.
‘Oh, hi, Emma,’ he said, sounding distracted. Emma could hear his girlfriend Miranda talking in the background, continuing the conservation with her father that her call had obviously interrupted.
‘I was wondering if we could have a chat,’ Emma said, trying to block out the incessant chattering in the background.
‘Sure, sure,’ he said, ‘how about you come around here in say, an hour or two?’
‘That would be good, dad.’
‘Great, great, I’ll get Miranda to rustle up something to eat as well.’
‘We’re supposed to be going out, to the art gallery,’ Emma heard Miranda protest, probably deliberately loud enough for her to hear.
‘Just a second,’ her dad said to Emma.
A few seconds of silence followed, and Emma guessed he was moving into another room.
‘Sorry about that,’ he said, his voice brought down to a whisper. ‘I didn’t want Miranda to hear what I was going to say.’
‘Go on,’ Emma said, intrigued and also happy that there were at least some things that were still sacrosanct between father and daughter.
‘I’m glad you rang, Emma,’ he said. ‘I’ve got something to tell you – something I should have told you about some time ago.’
25
‘Oh, hi,’ Miranda said, feigning surprise as she opened the door and saw Emma standing there. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I’m just in the middle of preparing some food, so things are a bit disorganised in here at the moment.’
Miranda was wearing an apron and her hands were speckled with flour. She still managed to look stunning though – although she was only thirty-one, twenty years younger than Edward. It had taken Emma a long time to get used to the fact that her dad was living with someone only three years older than herself. In truth, she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to the idea. Even though her mum was dead, and she wanted her dad to be happy, there would probably always be a part of her that resented Miranda.
‘That’s okay,’ Emma said, as she followed Miranda into the house. It was still weird being in the family home she had grown up in, but seeing another woman there, in charge of the household. It felt like she was trampling on Emma’s memories.
They emerged into the open dining room / kitchen area to be greeted by an impressive spread of food.
The One You Love (suspense mystery) Page 11