Safe at Home

by Lauren North

  I nod.

  ‘And you know my husband?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not what you think.’ A red heat creeps over my body, my chest, my face, but I realize in that moment that Sue is exactly the person I need to talk to. I don’t know what connects Harrie to Dean or why, but there must be a reason Harrie said his name in her sleep and maybe Sue has the answers I need. ‘Please, will you come in?’ I ask.

  Sue’s eyes narrow for a moment. She seems as surprised by my offer as I was by her statement. ‘I can’t leave Timmy outside but he’s muddy,’ she says, casting her eyes to the dog. ‘We’ve been for a walk.’

  I almost laugh then. She’s accusing me of having an affair with her husband but is worried about muddy paw prints on my floors.

  ‘Your dog can have a play in our garden, and I really don’t care about him being muddy.’

  She nods once and I step back, waiting for Sue to slide her feet from her wellies and step into the house in bright-red woolly socks.

  As I’m shutting the front door, my gaze draws to June. She’s staring across the fence, her face a mix of surprise and concern, and I feel my cheeks smart and swallow hard.

  So you’re the slapper.

  I lead Sue through to the kitchen and open the back door as she unclips the lead. We stand for a moment and watch Timmy delight in his new freedom, tearing across the lawn to chase an overweight pigeon.

  The moment subsides, leaving only awkwardness.

  ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ I ask, already filling the kettle.

  She shakes her head. ‘No.’

  ‘Water?’

  ‘I’ve not come here for a damn drink.’ The words are hissed, just like her accusation, but this time they’re followed by a guttural sob. ‘I’ve come here to find out where my husband is.’

  ‘I don’t know where he is,’ I reply. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

  She moves to the table and drops into a chair and I sit too.

  ‘So you don’t think he’s in Spain playing golf then?’ I ask.

  ‘What? Of course he isn’t. That’s Anthony Campbell’s idiot lie he’s been telling people so Stockton’s doesn’t get dragged into the gossip of Dean being missing. We’ve got a villa in Spain, and yes, Dean often pops over there to play golf, but never without telling me. I usually go with him. We both love it there.’

  I nod, remembering how much happier Dean seemed after his last trip to Spain, as though a tension had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d been excited about something, a new plan he wouldn’t tell me about. But then the days had slipped by and the excitement died away, leaving only a deep relentless worry I could never get him to talk about.

  ‘Why is Anthony worried about Stockton’s?’ I ask. ‘I thought it was Dean’s business.’

  ‘In name yes, but it’s grown too much for Dean. He took a step back last year, allowing Anthony to take the reins. Dean is still the majority shareholder and has the final say in everything, but it’s Anthony who runs it. He still makes a show of going in every day, but he doesn’t do much.’

  ‘So if Dean isn’t in Spain, then where do you think he is?’

  The hardness slips from Sue’s face like a mask falling away and her eyes fill with tears. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispers.

  ‘Do you know what was bothering him?’ I blurt out the question, not caring now how guilty it makes me seem.

  She lurches slightly at the question. ‘Do you?’

  I shake my head. ‘He wouldn’t tell me, but it’s felt like there’s been something building. He’s been so on edge.’

  Sue nods. ‘He was … he was in a dark place last week. I’m so worried about him. I can’t shake the feeling that something has happened to him.’

  Her words slice through me. It’s exactly how I feel about Harrie. Goosebumps pimple my skin as I remember the words Harrie spoke during her night terror.

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to him?’ I ask.

  Sue raises herself up, lips forming a tight line. ‘I think before I answer any more of your questions, you can answer mine.’

  A toxic silence stretches between us. I force myself to meet Sue’s gaze. ‘I’m not having an affair with Dean.’

  ‘But you do spend time together?’

  I nod. ‘Dean hired me to redevelop Stockton’s website and we … we became friends.’

  ‘And I’m supposed to believe that he popped round once a week just for a cup of tea?’

  ‘Whether you believe it or not, it’s the truth.’ Images of last Monday flash into my thoughts but I push them away. ‘And I’m worried about Dean too.’ I stand up and put the kettle on for tea. I need something to do with my hands whether we drink it or not.

  Timmy’s paws clatter on the glass of the back door and I let him in. He scampers into the room, nose down, sniffing the new smells, tail wagging furiously. I crouch down to say hello and find Timmy’s fur is teddy-bear soft. He licks my hand with a gentle flap of his tongue. He looks just like one of the pictures on Harrie’s wall.

  When two cups of tea are sitting on the table and I’m back in my chair I ask Sue again when she last spoke to Dean.

  She dabs at fresh tears with a ball of tissue she tucks in the sleeve of her jumper. ‘He phoned me that Wednesday afternoon to tell me he wouldn’t be home for dinner. He sounded agitated, but when I asked him why, he wouldn’t say. He just said that he had to see someone and he’d be home late. I didn’t think much of it until later when Luke, Dean’s brother, called me. I … was in the bath and I missed his call.’

  Sue pulls out a phone from her pocket and places it on the table. ‘This was the voicemail he left.’ She presses a button and a moment later the noise of traffic on the road fills the kitchen.

  ‘Sue, it’s me,’ Luke says, his voice so much like Dean’s that I forget to breathe. ‘I’m on my way to the village. Dean’s texted me. He says he needs help. If you see him, keep him with you.’

  Sue sniffs, wiping away more tears. ‘He lives … lived in town, you see. So he was driving here that night, but his car crashed and—’ Sue covers her face with her hands. Grief fills the kitchen.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say eventually.

  ‘Dean and Luke were so close. Luke was like a brother to me too. That’s how I know something has happened to Dean. If he knew his brother was in hospital, he’d have moved heaven and earth to sit by his bedside. If he knew he was dead, he’d have come home. It will destroy him. I … I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Have the police listened to this?’

  She laughs then. A single ‘ha’ devoid of any humour. ‘Yes. They’ve heard it. Dean is filed as a missing person, but they’re not interested. Anthony’s been telling them and anyone who’ll listen that Dean is fine, but Dean hasn’t been himself for a few months. He’s been … very secretive.’ Sue stops as if she’s expecting me to confess to something, but continues when it’s clear I won’t. ‘We were fighting about things, getting on each other’s nerves a bit. He was so down at times. I wanted to move to Spain permanently. We have a nice life out there. Good friends and a climate that suits us, but Dean wasn’t sure. I couldn’t understand what was keeping him here.

  ‘I suppose in the back of my mind I thought he might have been having an affair.’ She looks at me, a flash of accusation, but she must read something in my face as it disappears.

  ‘What about Stockton’s? Wouldn’t that make Dean want to stay? He built the company from nothing.’

  ‘We built it. I spent twenty years working by his side. It was only when it expanded and Anthony joined the business that I stepped aside. Dean hates it now. He’d gladly sell the whole thing. He loved the building work, the creation of something, but not the business side of things, and the selling.’

  ‘I had no idea. Dean never said.’

  Sue’s face changes as if she’s remembered why she came here.

  ‘So you really haven’t been having an affair with my husband? You don’t know where he is?’
<
br />   I shake my head forcefully. ‘I promise you. I’m married, and I love my husband very much. I would never do anything to break up my family. Rob works abroad, and Dean … for some reason, he understood the loneliness I’ve been feeling. He used to come over to cheer me up, help with anything that needed fixing around the house … He’s been a huge support to me. He’s a good man.’

  She smiles at that. ‘He really is.’ Timmy paws at Sue’s legs and she runs a hand over his back before getting to her feet. ‘I think I’ve taken up enough of your time.’

  ‘I’m sorry about Dean and about Luke.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she nods before stepping close, her eyes burning into mine. ‘Be careful, Anna.’

  ‘Of what?’ The shock of Sue’s words causes a bubble of laughter to leave my mouth. I’m not sure if she’s warning me or threatening me.

  The moment passes and Sue gives a shake of her head. ‘Sorry. It’s nothing. Just ignore me. I’m not thinking straight,’ she says. ‘Come on, Timmy. Time we were getting home.’

  At the door, Sue turns to me, eyes wide and tearful. ‘If you hear anything, please will you tell me?’

  I nod. ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’m sorry for what I said on the doorstep. That’ll teach me to listen to gossip.’

  She slips her feet into her wellies and is striding away before her final word sinks in. Gossip. People have been gossiping about me.

  CHAPTER 35

  Anna

  I’ve barely had time to sit down, to process what Sue has told me, when the doorbell rings again and I find June on my doorstep. My face grows hot thinking of the accusation I’m sure she heard.

  ‘Oh, Anna,’ she says with her usual smile. ‘Could I ask a favour?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I’ve got some cookie cutters in a tin in the top cupboard and I can’t reach it. I’ve been trying for twenty minutes with my little steps and a broom, but they’re right at the back and so I’m admitting defeat and asking for help. I don’t suppose you’d mind having a try, would you, please? They’re Halloween-shaped, you see. I like to bake biscuits for the trick-or-treaters.’

  ‘No problem at all. Lead the way.’

  I follow June around the hedge and into her house. It’s the same layout as mine, but feels bigger. There’s less clutter I suppose. No overloaded shoe racks, no toys scattered around the floor, no stacks of school letters, homework sheets or colourings on the sides. The walls are painted a soft peach and the carpet beneath my feet looks new, although I’m sure it’s not. There are beautiful landscape oil paintings covering the walls and I can’t help but step closer.

  ‘Is this the river in the village?’ I ask.

  June steps up beside me and taps the glass frame. ‘Yes. I caught it about this time of year actually, just before it flooded.’

  ‘You painted this?’ My voice rings with surprise and I turn to face June.

  ‘Well yes, although admittedly it was some years ago. My eyesight isn’t as good as it was so I don’t paint as much.’

  ‘It’s amazing. You’re very talented.’

  ‘Thank you. Now, these cutters,’ she says, leading me through to a white kitchen with marble-effect worktops. It’s dated but spotlessly clean. A top cupboard is open in the corner and there’s a small stepladder resting beside it.

  ‘Here?’ I point.

  ‘Yes please, Anna.’

  A moment later the tin is in my hands and I pass it to a thankful June. ‘Oh you’re so kind. Can I tempt you to stay for a slice of Bakewell tart? Made this morning,’ she adds, and even though I want to be alone with my thoughts, to process Sue’s visit, I say yes.

  She makes a pot of tea and we sit at the oval kitchen table.

  ‘Now tell me,’ she says, sliding the plate of cake towards me. ‘Are you OK, Anna? Really OK? I can’t help but notice you’ve been looking rather strained this week, and then Sue Stockton appearing like that … If I’m honest, I’m worried about you.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Yes dear, of course I am.’ She encloses my hand in hers. It’s cool, her skin soft. The gesture tightens my throat with emotion.

  I hang my head and let the wisps of my hair droop forwards. A single tear traces a line down my face. ‘I guess you heard what Sue said to me?’

  June nods.

  ‘It’s not true,’ I say as she pours two cups of steaming hot tea from a floral patterned pot. ‘At least, I don’t think it’s true.’

  ‘I don’t claim to have any experience with infidelity,’ June says, adding milk to our cups. ‘I married Derek when I was twenty-three and as far as I know we were both faithful to each other until the day he died. But I don’t imagine there is much grey area with affairs. You’re either having one or you’re not.’

  I shrug and dab a finger to my eye where a second tear is forming. ‘I’ve not slept with Dean and I’ve not kissed him.’ I swallow hard and think of his touch on Monday, the comfort in it.

  ‘So what would make you think you are having an affair?’

  ‘It’s not physical, but maybe on an emotional level I am. I don’t think Dean sees it that way. He’s just been a friend. We’ve both been struggling – me with Rob being away and Dean with his own issues – but over the last few months I’ve come to rely on him. I’ve felt so lonely and down at times. Rob being away feels like a punishment for me and the girls, and I know that’s not what he’s trying to do, but I resent it. I’m so angry with Rob sometimes. And when I’ve felt lonely, it’s Dean who I’ve turned to, and he’s cheered me up and made me feel more alive. I’ve looked forward to his visits. I’ve confided in him. I don’t think I’d have done that if Rob was here, and I’ve not told a soul about my friendship with him. If it was innocent, why wouldn’t I have told my best friend about it?’

  June wraps her hands around the teacup and takes a sip, her face thoughtful for a moment. ‘Two things,’ she says. ‘First of all, the answer to why you’ve not told anyone is obvious – this village is a toxic sewer of gossip. And word would get around within ten minutes that you and Dean were friends and I guarantee there would be speculation as to the nature of that friendship.’

  ‘I think there already is.’

  ‘My point exactly.’

  ‘And the second thing?’

  ‘The second thing is this – if you’d developed a friendship with a woman, if you’d phoned me when you were down and we’d chatted, if I’d been your confidante instead of a man, would you have thought for a single moment that there was anything wrong with that? Would you have questioned whether we were having an affair?’

  I laugh and shake my head.

  ‘There you are then. If you’re friends, you’re friends. And a good friend is hard to come by. The rest, excuse my French, is a load of bollocks.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I take a bite of the cake. It’s warm and chewy, and an explosion of sugary jam takes over my senses. ‘This is delicious.’

  ‘It is rather, isn’t it? Now tell me, what else is going on with you?’

  My instinct is to shake my head and sugar-coat my woes, to steer the conversation around to easier topics, but there is something in June’s warmth, her kindness, that makes me feel safe. My secret – what happened on Monday last week – shoots forwards, dancing on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t face it. Not yet. Not now. Instead I tell June about Harrie and the night of the crash. I tell her about the sudden change in her behaviour, the unexplained bruise, the night terrors and shouting Dean’s name. I speak fast, the words tumbling out, leaving me breathless and panicky all over again. I stop before I reach Harrie’s bloody clothes. I’m not sure why. Only that an instinctive part of me wants to protect Harrie from whatever trouble she’s in and until I know how she got herself covered in blood, I want to keep the trousers to myself.

  It’s only when I’m finished that I realize how alone I’ve felt this past week.

  ‘My oh my,’ June says, her face now pale. ‘I don’t know what to say. It does
sound like something happened that night.’

  I nod, surprised, relieved at June’s agreement. I’m so used to Kat and Rob brushing away my worries, it feels strange to have someone agree. ‘What do I do?’

  ‘I don’t think there is anything you can do. As you say, you can’t force Harrie to tell you what happened—’

  ‘Although I’ve tried. I’ve begged her to talk to me.’

  ‘She knows you’re concerned and she knows you’re there for her when she’s ready. Until then, I guess all you can do is wait and watch her like a hawk.’

  It’s much later, when the pot of tea is drunk and I’ve eaten two slices of Bakewell tart and have three slices in a cake tin for the girls, when I’m home again among the mess and the clutter, that June’s words sink in.

  I don’t think there is anything you can do.

  Is that really true? I want to believe it’s not, and yet I can’t find a single solution to help Harrie or find Rob. But the thought of waiting makes my stomach knot. I can’t stop the worry and the what-ifs from consuming me.

  CHAPTER 36

  The night of the crash, 8.14–8.19 p.m.

  Harrie

  Terror seizes Harrie’s body, pinning her to the ground. She closes her eyes but the blood is still there, streaking through her mind. The scream stops. It wasn’t her. She wasn’t the one making the noise. A silence settles over the kitchen and Harrie realizes that someone else is with the two men. Someone standing in the doorway that Harrie can’t see.

  Run. Run. Run. The one word plays over and over in her head and she forces herself to open her eyes and focus on the back door. It’s not far. She could reach it in seconds. But the door opens inwards and it’ll take time to stop to open it, precious seconds she doesn’t have. The man, the murderer, is standing right there. There’s no way she can make it.

  Harrie can hear her breath coming in short bursts. It sounds so loud, but she can’t stop it.

  He’s going to hear her.

  Her eyes pull back to the body on the floor and the thick red blood, a growing puddle. She whimpers, like an injured dog. She clamps her mouth shut. But it’s too late. The man is turning in the direction of the table.