The Woman at 46 Heath Street: A twisty and absolutely gripping psychological thriller

by Lesley Sanderson

  ‘What’s that?’ Sadie asked, her voice filled with fear.

  I looked at what she was pointing to but I couldn’t work out what I was seeing. An orange light flickered behind the front door.

  Sadie broke into a run. ‘Call the fire brigade,’ she said. ‘The house is on fire.’

  Forty-Three

  ELLA

  Chris is here. Hammering at the door. Why won’t anybody leave me alone? Leave me alone in the house with Nancy and the baby. Mustn’t forget the baby. Nobody wanted me when I was a baby. I won’t be like them.

  The air is thick with an unfamiliar smell. My head feels woozy, my thoughts are muddled. Downstairs it’s bright, too bright. A voice is calling my name, her voice, Alice. Melissa. I mustn’t let her in.

  More voices outside. Another voice joins in. A vaguely familiar one. I stand up but I feel so light-headed and I falter at the top of the stairs. A searing heat rushes towards me and smoke fills my throat, making me splutter, and I pull my shirt up over my face. Orange flames curl along the carpet towards the stairs and I hear the sound of a siren.

  Coughing overtakes me. A thought comes from somewhere: get down on the ground, crawl. I crawl towards the bathroom. Like a baby. Thinking about babies hurts, my head hurts, my stomach hurts and my heart hurts so much it could burst. Everything hurts. My eyes are stinging and streaming, and it’s so hard to see.

  ‘Ella, Ella!’ The voices won’t stop. My head is cloudy. Maybe my mother has changed her mind, come back for me at last. Everything goes black for a moment. I’m in the bathroom now and the smoke isn’t as bad. I crawl to the bath and grab a towel, stick it under the tap, hold it over my face.

  I hear a distant voice, a male voice. ‘You have to get out, Ella.’

  I crawl back to the top of the stairs; I inhale thick, black smoke and cough and cough.

  Chris? He’s come to rescue me from her, Melissa. He loves me.

  The staircase is blocked. The black fog turns orange and yellow, it’s crackling now. Fire is eating its way through the house. Please, not this house. Not my home. I push my face into the red carpet, red and orange. Warm colours. Too warm. I can’t get any lower down, and my lungs are burning. I hear the sound of glass shattering from far away.

  She’ll never find her baby now.

  That’s the last thought I remember.

  Forty-Four

  ELLA

  I’m getting used to my room at the hospital. I’ve asked the nurses to keep the door open so that I feel less like a caged animal and I can hear the goings-on outside on the corridor leading down to the other wards and rooms. First thing in the morning I welcome the jangle of a trolley, not so much for the lukewarm, tasteless porridge but for the smile of the woman who pushes it along and gives me an extra cup of tea when she returns to clear the plates. Once she’s gone I’m left with my thoughts, which revolve around Alice. Why did she want to harm me? Did she want the house, too? My head aches with questions. I’ve told the nurse not to let Alice in. Melissa, I correct myself.

  I don’t understand any of it and there’s nobody to ask. The answer may have been in the diary, but I’ll never know. I assume everything was lost in the fire.

  A burn makes my side hurt every time I move, but it’s not that that makes me cry. Chris hasn’t bothered to visit me: that’s something else I don’t understand. Did he know Melissa was back? I thought he’d come to rescue me. I can’t imagine him wanting to destroy the house, to destroy everything. It doesn’t make sense.

  My first visitor is a police officer. I’ve been aware of her standing at the end of my bed for a while now. I open my eyes slightly and close them again when I see her uniform, thick-soled shoes on firmly planted feet. My chest heaves with relief that it’s not Melissa. But I have to open my eyes eventually, face up to what has happened.

  ‘Good morning, Ella, I’m PC Metcalfe. How are you feeling?’

  Her radio crackles, a welcome distraction, but she silences it and pulls up a chair, holding her hat with slender brown fingers.

  ‘I’ve been better.’ My voice sounds croaky; I swallowed so much smoke. The burning smell lingers in my memory as if I’m still trapped in that room. My whole body shudders.

  ‘It’s OK.’ She takes my cold hand in her warm grip. ‘The nurses say you’re making a good recovery.’

  She drops my hand, takes out her notebook and pencil. ‘I have a few questions.’

  I nod. Might as well get this over with. Her pencil is poised and her determined face tells me she won’t be fobbed off.

  ‘How much do you remember?’

  I close my eyes and I’m back on the smoke-filled landing, a swelling balloon of panic surging inside me at the sight of my beloved house burning, orange flames licking up the carpet towards me. Thick smoke filling my lungs as I press my shirt to my mouth, getting down to the floor. Lying there, thinking about Melissa. Giving in to the choking fumes.

  ‘I heard Melissa’s voice, then someone break the glass, a fireman I suppose. I managed to get to the bathroom… then there’s nothing until I woke up here.’ Should I tell the policewoman that Melissa’s trying to hurt me? But she kissed me. Was that all part of it? My head swirls like the smoke from the fire.

  ‘It’s bound to be confusing for you, but take your time.’

  I squeeze my eyes shut. I have questions of my own. ‘Did the fire brigade get there in time? Is the house OK?’

  ‘Downstairs is badly damaged, nothing could be salvaged. But upstairs is mostly OK.’

  ‘The cellar?’

  ‘Gutted.’

  The diary was in my bedroom. Did Melissa read it before she left?

  ‘Was there anything valuable down there?’

  ‘Nothing that mattered.’ But the house matters.

  ‘I’m assuming you have contents insurance? I’m sure it can be put back to how it was. It will take a little time, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, the house is insured. How did the fire start?’ I squeeze my eyes shut, scared to hear her answer.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say as it’s an ongoing investigation. Try to forget about it, focus on your recovery.’

  The door opens and a nurse comes in. ‘Time for your vitals, Mrs Rutherford. I’m afraid I’ll need a moment with the patient, Officer.’ The name Mrs Rutherford burns more than my tender skin. Tears fill my eyes.

  ‘We’re all done here. I’ve just been asking Mrs Rutherford a few questions and reassuring her that she’s in capable hands.’

  I turn my head away from the nurse.

  ‘She certainly is.’ The nurse pulls the curtain around the bed and PC Metcalfe puts her hat on and disappears from view.

  The nurse attaches a band to my arm and runs various checks while a storm swirls in my head. Doubt rumbles somewhere deep down. Melissa lied about her name, and about everything. Why would she lie about Chris? Was she behind everything? Is she jealous, because of her feelings for me, or are her feelings a lie, too? Was our whole relationship a pretence? But I know the answer. The kiss was just another ploy to get me under her spell, so she could find whatever she was looking for, something to do with her baby. She wanted to get me out of the house and get him in. The woman at the party must have been the other woman. It wasn’t her I should have been afraid of, but Melissa, right there in front of me, the whole time. Neither of them will be coming to see me. Deep inside, I know why. She’s in custody. With him. They were in it together.

  * * *

  Mr Mortimer comes to see me. The kindly expression on his face moves me to tears and I am unable to speak. He sits with my bandaged hands in his and talks in his soft voice about his Doris and the things she survived; he says I remind him of her and his face crinkles as he says this and I have to look away. I feel as if I knew her, now I’ve read the diary. I’m not worthy of her, of his love. I’m unable to put into words the questions I want to ask. But he isn’t the one who has the answers.

  I’m not expecting any more visitors. But Melissa co
mes in the evening, when it’s dark outside, the fluorescent light that gives me a headache is turned off and the night shift is on duty. Keeping me safe, but not safe enough. When I see her in the doorway my heart knocks at my chest and I can’t swallow. Has she escaped?

  I pull myself up to sitting and I see the red cord that hangs behind me swinging into the edges of my vision. If I pull the cord a nurse will come, but will she be quick enough? I’m scared to make any sudden movements. Melissa crosses the room in soft, silent brogues. Did she plan to creep up on me, hold a pillow over my face? Finish off what she started after the fire failed to burn me into silence?

  ‘Ella.’ She’s whispering, although there’s no one to hear her. ‘It’s me.’

  I nod. I’m sure she can hear my heart beating: the sound is roaring in my ears, filling my head. Light spills in from the corridor and falls on her cheekbones, illuminating her familiar features as she leans over me.

  ‘You’re shaking.’ Melissa frowns and reaches her hand up to my face. I flinch, letting out a cry.

  She recoils. ‘Why are you scared? It’s me, Ella. I was just going to do this.’ I hold my breath as she reaches out again and brushes my hair from my eyes.

  I grab her hand. ‘Have you come to hurt me?’

  Pain surges into her eyes. ‘I would never hurt you. The fire, I tried to save you, have you forgotten?’

  ‘Of course not…’ I can’t let her see that I know she’s double-bluffing, pretending she tried to rescue me when all the time… ‘I don’t know who you are any more. Alice doesn’t exist. Melissa: I know that’s who you really are.’ The name feels strange on my tongue as I use it to refer to Alice for the first time, the double ‘s’ a hiss on the tongue of a snake curling towards her. Accusatory.

  ‘Have you escaped?’

  ‘Escaped?’ She frowns, looks at me with concern. ‘Escaped from where, Ella?’

  ‘You and Chris… I thought…’

  ‘That policewoman wouldn’t let anyone past her. I came as soon as I could. Once the police gave you the all-clear the nurse said it was too late, past visiting hours. Fuck visiting hours. Why do you think I snuck in after dark? I had to know you were alright.’

  I study her face for clues. Does she really mean it? Hope stirs deep inside me.

  ‘Tell me what happened, back then.’ I grip the side of the bed so hard the metal digs into my skin. ‘I need to hear it from you.’

  ‘I got pregnant. It was the worst shame I could possibly bring on my family according to my father, Edward. I hated him, hated myself for not defending my mother when he hit her and kicked her, which he did for any tiny misdemeanour. Kit, Chris – I never imagined he’d turn out the same way.’ Melissa makes an exasperated sound. ‘Kit is long gone. Dad stopped me going out when he found out I had a boyfriend. Imagine his reaction when he found out about the pregnancy. Chris had always said he’d leave home, and I stupidly thought he’d take me with him.’ Melissa sniffs, trying not to cry. ‘But he ran off and left me.’ She rubs an angry fist into her eye. ‘Mum did her best, begged Dad to let me go to hospital, or at least get a midwife, but he refused.’

  She stands and moves to the window, looking out into the night, away from me. ‘Mum helped me deliver her, my baby girl. She was perfect, just for a few minutes, then…’ She wraps her arms around herself. ‘Dad took her, I don’t know what he did with her, but he’d been digging a lot in the garden, so I guessed…’ Melissa shrugs, sits back down.

  ‘The fire was Chris, he’d been drinking whisky all afternoon. I saw what it did to Dad. He became a different person. Chris was at the end of his tether, he’d almost lost everything: the business, his livelihood, but he couldn’t let the house go. He’d have loved to get rid of it. The estate agent was just a ploy to get you out – he would never have sold it, he was afraid that a new owner might dig up the garden. Find what was there. Edward told him he was an accessory to manslaughter by gross negligence, you see, and he believed him. Dad had got complete control of us.’

  ‘Have you been back to the house?’

  ‘Don’t worry. The house will be fine. We’ll manage, whatever it takes.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’ But I know why.

  She breathes out, a long sigh, and then wilts like a deflated balloon.

  ‘I have to find my baby. My little girl: Alice.’

  I gasp.

  She nods. ‘Yes, that was the name I chose for her. She only lived for a few minutes. As soon as he appeared in the doorway she stopped breathing. It was as if she knew what he would do to her. But we loved her, me and Mum, in those few minutes. I hope Mum could feel that. She tried so hard to stop him, but he’d worn her down over the years. I didn’t get it at the time. I hated her. Hated Chris, for leaving without taking me with him, but he wouldn’t have been able to pull that off. We’ve been talking, me and Chris. Dad beat Mum up so badly she could hardly walk and he feared ending up like him. So what did he do? He ran away.’

  Melissa laughs to herself. ‘When he met you, he thought he could change, but he couldn’t bear to be in the house. He hates the house, really, he only came back because he had to after he lost his job and Mum persuaded him to come home, but he and Mum never talked about what happened. Chris suffered from the strain of knowing that Alice was in the house or garden somewhere. Just being in the house meant he could never forget his failure to stop what happened to Alice and me. It got to him. He thought you’d make it better. I’m not sure your relationship would ever have worked.

  ‘It’s the reason I came back. Knowing she was in Heath Street, alone, without me. I wanted to find her and let her rest in peace. It destroyed my life, too.’ Another wry smile forms on Melissa’s face. ‘You were always asking who the woman in the photo was – Olivia. She was the love of my life, not my cousin. A letter came from England, from the family solicitor, telling me Nancy had died and left me the house. It was Mum’s revenge against Dad, leaving it to me. I resealed the letter and returned it, knowing they’d give up and the house would go to Chris.

  ‘I wanted to stay with Olivia, put it all behind me. But I fell apart, regretted turning down the house and wrote Chris a threatening letter when I was deranged with grief. Knowing Mum was finally gone, the lure was too strong, I had to come back. It eats into you, you see, a secret like that. It was my last chance to find my baby girl. I got in touch with Chris and we formulated our plan to get the house back. He told me his marriage wasn’t working but we’d need to get you out first. I didn’t say a word about it to Olivia. I unravelled after that – feelings I’d suppressed for years came flooding back. In the end, I couldn’t forget. I made enquiries, and when I found out you were part owner with Chris, I went mad. I thought I’d move in, never mind mine and Chris’s plan. I planned to try and force you out, so I could be with Alice again. I didn’t expect to like you. My obsession with the house destroyed me and Olivia. I had a meaningless affair, to drive her away. I can never forgive myself for hurting her like that. She didn’t understand.’

  ‘You can explain it to her now.’

  Melissa’s face crumples and tears cover her cheeks. ‘If I can find her. She told me she never wanted to see me again.’ She wipes her hand angrily across her face. ‘Chris was the same – he wanted to drive you out. He wrote that letter, you know, the one about the affair. There was never any girlfriend. The credit card bill was him squandering money on clients, desperate for new business. I didn’t even know about that, just like he didn’t know about me moving in – we didn’t trust each other. He had to get you out, so he could deal with the secrets buried in the house.’

  ‘But that woman at the party—’

  ‘She meant nothing to him. It was all a set-up.’

  Images flash through my mind: a curvaceous woman in a red dress and spiky stiletto heels. The images fade and tears roll down my face too. I don’t want the house. Everything I thought I had was blackened with fire. But one thing remained for me to do.

  ‘I’ll help y
ou look for Alice.’

  Forty-Five

  ELLA

  30 JULY 2018

  Puffy clouds dot the sky and the bright golden sun is reflected in the faces of the marigolds that line the fence. I knew the sun would be out today: it had to be, to give us closure. The white walls of the freshly painted house gleam as if the fire had never happened. From the window of Nancy’s room – my room now – I see Melissa wearing a long white dress, sitting in the garden, which has been completely cleared of weeds. We have a lawn and a bench, where she often sits. I give her a moment alone before I go down to join her, wearing my work suit and heels – the occasion demands respect.

  Melissa is finally opening up and she’s in touch with Olivia again; they’re taking it slowly. We’ve talked about the kiss; we laughed about it in the end. I had to get that conversation out of the way, make sure all our secrets had been shared. Now the divorce is under way I’ve been seeing a therapist and she’s helped me understand how loneliness and grief drove me to Melissa. She was grieving, too, in her own way, but it came from genuine emotion. She hadn’t expected to like me, and I know that’s the truth. Truth is important to both of us.

  It made sense for Melissa and I to swap rooms. The house is hers, rightfully, and I wanted her to have the master bedroom. It’s also right that she bought Chris out; he never wanted this place with all its memories, and he hated growing up here. Melissa wants to forgive him; she’s working on it. He went to court for arson and got a custodial sentence. His barrister pleaded mitigating circumstances and he’ll be out in a few months. My first visiting order came today – I’m going to go and see him. It’s time we had an honest talk. And I need to get used to being single, being alone.

  We’ll never know exactly where Alice was buried – the blanket was the only clue, so we choose the place we found it for the spot. Melissa never located her, despite all her digging, but she is happy with the way we’ve chosen to lay her to rest. Our garden is no longer a jungle, but Alice’s resting place, which we’ll always look after.