WATCHING YOU_The gripping edge-of-the-seat thriller with a stunning twist.

by Lynda Renham

  ‘I wish I could take you, sweetie,’ I say hugging Merlin close. But I’ll have Grant and that’s more than enough. The warmth from the bath relaxes me and I push Ewan from my mind and think about the graphics I had done for the new complex. It would be good to discuss them tonight. There’s no reason why I can’t have a good time.

  *

  The party is in the penthouse suite. I check my hair in the lift mirror as it travels up to the suite. The doors open, and I step out where champagne is flowing and people are talking loudly. I look for a familiar face but don’t see one. Grant blends into the background and I’m left alone.

  ‘Madam,’ says a voice.

  I turn to a waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

  ‘No, thank you,’ I say nausea rising in me at the sight of them.

  I see another with a tray of drinks and walk towards him.

  ‘Wine madam?’ he asks on seeing me. I nod and take a white wine from the tray. There are so many people. The smell of expensive perfume permeates the room. The women are wearing designer dresses and expensive jewellery.

  ‘Hello.’

  I turn to the voice. He’s young. No older than twenty. I suddenly feel very old.

  ‘Hello,’ I smile.

  ‘Adrian Swift,’ he says offering his hand. ‘My dad’s the founder.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’m Libby Warren. I designed the graphics for the new project.’

  ‘Ah,’ he says, looking at me curiously. He knows about the email. I feel myself blush and want the floor to open up and swallow me.

  ‘Have you seen Carol?’ I ask.

  ‘Your graphics are brilliant,’ he smiles.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Carol’s over there,’ he says, clearly sensing my discomfort.

  I follow his eyes and see Carol, dressed in a flowing blue chiffon dress talking to a well-built man in a tuxedo.

  ‘Shall we go over?’ says Adrian.

  I nod and follow him. Carol’s eyes light up and she nods at me.

  ‘Oh great, I’d been looking out for you. When did you arrive?’

  ‘Not long ago.’

  ‘You’ve met Adrian?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say nodding at him.

  He looks down at my glass.

  ‘You’re empty. Let me get you another one.’

  I hadn’t even remembered drinking the wine.

  ‘Libby,’ says Carol, ‘this is Robert Swift, the founder. This is Libby Warren who did those fabulous graphics for us.’

  He smiles, there’s no curiosity in his eyes. But he must have read the email. He’s a stocky man with strong features.

  ‘Very nice work,’ he says. ‘We’re very glad to have you on board.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Adrian returns with my drink. He’s accompanied by a tall wiry man who looks at me suspiciously. I feel my neck muscles tighten.

  ‘This is Joel Walters,’ says Carol. ‘He’s the CEO.’

  My face grows hot.

  ‘This is Libby Warren.’

  I hold my hand out nervously. There’s a second before he accepts it.

  ‘I’m so sorry about the email and the fact that your son saw it,’ I say.

  His face is impassive.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, it seems. But it was unfortunate.’

  He’s judging me, and I hate him for it.

  ‘Have you tried the crab?’ Carol asks, lightening up the mood.

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘You must, come on.’

  I allow her to lead me away. My face is flushed. Everyone here is going to judge me and for that I hate Ewan Galbreith with all my being.

  *

  I make my escape at eleven. It’s still early but I tell Carol I have a terrible migraine. She seems to believe me and offers to see me to my car. I have to explain who Grant is and she seems shocked.

  ‘Have things got worse?’ she asks.

  ‘The police advised it,’ I say.

  ‘Thanks so much for coming. Your graphics are brilliant and I’m so looking forward to working with you in the coming months.’

  She kisses me on the cheek and I climb into the car. I wait patiently until she disappears back into the building and then step inside the foyer again. In the downstairs toilet I remove my make-up and change into my jeans. I pull my hair out of its neat bun and brush my hair around my face. Grant doesn’t bat an eyelid at the change in my appearance or at the fact that I ask him to take me to Heaven Scent in Stratford. As we travel through the London streets I check and double check that the knife is in my handbag and that the rape alarm and spray are easy to grab. Heaven Scent is on the outskirts. Grant asks where I’d like him to park and I say opposite the entrance.

  ‘Chances are we’ll get moved on,’ he says parking the car where I can see the entrance to the club and the people queuing outside it. I put my face to the window and strain to see the bodyguards at the doors. My mouth is dry and my hands are shaking. I feel sick and I wish my heart would stop racing so much. He can’t hurt me. I’d like to think he won’t recognise me but of course he will. He has that advantage over me. It’s too difficult to see the men’s faces even this close. I have no choice but to go nearer. I realise I’m perspiring and wipe the sweat from my forehead. I pull my denim jacket on and lift the collar.

  ‘I’m getting out,’ I say. ‘Can you stay close?’

  ‘It would be better to move the car somewhere else,’ he suggests.

  I nod and stay in the car while he drives it around the corner to a parking space. I get out and walk slowly back to the entrance with Grant behind me. I walk along the queue when someone yells at me.

  ‘Hey you, no jumping the queue missy.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m not going in. I’m just looking for someone.’

  They give me disbelieving looks. I continue walking and then stop several feet from the men on the door. I pretend to look around as though I’m waiting for someone. After a while I feel confident to look up at the men. One of them is hidden in the shadows but the other I can see clearly. He’s olive skinned and of muscular build. Ewan was never that big. The girls in the queue are screeching loudly and it’s difficult to hear the man’s voice but finally I do.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asks a girl, pulling something from her handbag.

  ‘They’re my ‘eadache pills,’ she says.

  ‘You can’t take them in.’

  He has a cockney accent. It isn’t Ewan.

  I let out a little sigh and then the other man speaks and my legs give way.

  ‘Oh,’ I utter, feeling myself go.

  ‘Shit,’ says a girl in the queue, grabbing me. ‘’ave you taken something?’

  I shake my head and take a step backwards. It’s Ewan. I’d recognise that accent anywhere. My heart pounds in my chest and I take several deep breaths to calm it. I have to see him. I have to see what he looks like now.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Fifteen years earlier

  ‘Have you ever seen Mr Galbreith lose his temper Miss Owen?’

  Libby shook her head.

  ‘I need you to answer the question,’ said the judge softly.

  ‘No, I never saw him lose his temper.’

  ‘But you did see him get beaten up in the barn by Mr Mitchell and his associates?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he tell you that he wanted to get even with Mr Mitchell for that night?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you knew he took your uncle’s firearms from the gun cabinet for reasons other than hunting?’

  ‘I only thought he took them for hunting.’

  ‘Didn’t he threaten a friend of yours with one of your uncle’s shotguns?’

  Libby blushed but didn’t reply.

  ‘He threatened to shoot Patrick O’Leary in the genitals if he continued seeing you. Mr Galbreith claims this was on your uncle’s orders. Did Patrick tell you about this?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

 
She looked at Patrick who was holding on tightly to Lil’s hand. She wasn’t at all what Libby had imagined. She was pretty and fresh faced, not haggard and ugly like Patrick had said. He’d lied to her, but she still loved him. She wouldn’t let him go to prison. She couldn’t bear to think of a free spirit like him locked up.

  ‘So, Mr Galbreith wasn’t out hunting that day, was he?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Was your uncle aware of Mr Galbreith’s use of his guns?’

  ‘Yes I think he was. He didn’t seem to mind.’

  ‘It seems his loyalty to Ewan Galbreith backfired on him would you agree?’

  The barrister defending Ewan jumped up.

  ‘Objection. Your Honour, Counsel is putting words into the witness’s mouth.’

  ‘Please rephrase the question.’

  Libby’s head spun. She didn’t understand the court room jargon and never fully understood if it was her that had said something wrong.

  ‘Miss Owen, what was your relationship with Patrick O’Leary?’

  ‘We were friends.’

  ‘Just friends?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Please answer the question.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said but her cheeks turned red.

  ‘But your uncle didn’t approve of this friendship clearly. Why would he send Ewan Galbreith to warn him off?’

  ‘Uncle Edward didn’t like gypsies.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the night of the murder, Miss Owen.’

  ‘Objection. The question is suggesting the circumstances of the victims’ death.’

  ‘They were clearly murdered,’ smiled the barrister.

  ‘Counsel, would you rephrase your question please,’ said the judge.

  Libby’s heart began to pound in her chest and she reached for the glass of water.

  ‘So, on the night your aunt and uncle died, you left the party after midnight and walked back to Manstead Manor. Is that right Miss Owen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you describe what happened when you got to the house? Take your time.’

  Libby licked her lips and clenched the fingers of one hand in the other, she squeezed them tightly.

  ‘I opened the front door and I heard music. My shoes had sand in them, so I took them off in the hallway and then walked through the hall to the morning room where the music was coming from.’

  ‘Did you sense anything was wrong at this point?’

  ‘I don’t remember. Everything happened so quickly.’

  ‘So you went into the morning room and then what happened?’

  ‘I was about to open the door when I heard a shot and …’

  Her legs gave way and she fell onto the bench behind her.

  ‘Would you like a few minutes?’ the judge asked quietly.

  Ewan’s eyes were boring into hers. He was sitting forward, the veins in his neck prominent as he strained to look at her. His lips were tight. He looked nothing like the Ewan she knew. His whole being was focused on her words and she was scared to utter more.

  ‘I …’

  The barrister looked over at Ewan and said.

  ‘You’re quite safe here. No one can hurt you.’

  Tears fell unbidden from Libby’s eyes and her hands began to shake.

  ‘We’ll take a short break and resume in thirty minutes. The court will rise,’ said the judge.

  Libby sighed with relief and saw Ewan crack his knuckles.

  Libby stepped from the witness box. She had thirty minutes to recover and then she’d have to tell them.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Fifteen years earlier

  ‘I’m not giving that scum my money,’ roared Edward.

  Ewan looked to the door.

  ‘Libby’s in the kitchen,’ he said quietly.

  ‘I don’t give a shit. Everyone wants a piece of me. I’m not doing it.’

  Ewan shrugged.

  ‘Fair enough.’

  Edward rubbed his eyes tiredly.

  ‘I’ve got those bloody investors threatening to sue me. Did you see that? It’s in the bloody papers. One of them has even threatened my family, lowlife, all of them, nothing but lowlife’s thinking someone else owes them a living. How did she meet this toad anyway?’

  ‘No idea.’

  Edward sighed.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘That’s up to you. He wanted a couple of thousand but …’

  Edward roared with laughter. The door opened, and his eyes met Ewan’s. It was Rose. She was dressed for going out. She looked from one to the other and smiled.

  ‘You two look like you’re conspiring. How’s the arm Ewan?’

  ‘It’s getting there.’

  ‘He’s alright,’ snapped Edward.

  ‘How’s Princess?’

  ‘I’m keeping an eye on her. The medication doesn’t seem to be helping much.’

  ‘Give it bloody time,’ said Edward.

  Rose walked to the bookcase and removed a large volume from it.

  ‘Well, I’ll leave you to your meeting. Are you doing anything special for the millennium Ewan?’

  He smiled.

  ‘No. I’ll maybe go to the pub.’

  ‘Wise man,’ grinned Edward. ‘We’re having people over. Not my idea of fun.’

  ‘You’ll enjoy it,’ smiled Rose. ‘Libby and I are going to the history talk in the village. I thought I’d take our little family history with us,’ she nods at the book in her hand.

  Ewan waits until she has left before saying,

  ‘He says he doesn’t have enough money for diesel, but according to those in the pub he’s been talking about going back to Australia.’

  ‘He no doubt expects me to pay for that.’

  ‘He’ll be out of Libby’s way.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right but I’m not giving him any money. I can make life very difficult for him and his family. Make sure he knows that. Whose land is he on?’

  ‘Farmer Williams, I think he …’

  ‘Owes me money,’ finishes Edward. ‘I bought pigs for his pig farm. Maybe it’s time to have those pigs slaughtered. Just in time for Christmas …’

  ‘I don’t think …’

  ‘You tell Farmer Williams to get them gypos off that land or he won’t have much of a farm left.’

  Ewan fought back a sigh.

  ‘You’ll have to tell him yourself.’

  Edward’s hard eyes met Ewan’s.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I’m not doing that. I warned Patrick off. I think he’s bad for Libby. I didn’t mind doing that. But Farmer Williams is okay. He’s paying you back. It’s hard for most people.’

  ‘My heart bleeds Ewan.’

  Ewan turned to the door.

  ‘Maybe you don’t appreciate this job enough,’ said Edward, his words halting Ewan.

  Ewan shook his head and gave Edward a sad look.

  ‘If you’re not happy with me I can pack up my stuff. There are plenty of jobs for a man not afraid to work.’

  ‘Not many with cottages though.’

  ‘I’ll always find somewhere,’ said Ewan opening the door.

  Edward stepped up behind him and slammed the door shut.

  ‘Don’t be bloody stupid. I’ll talk to Williams. I’m not paying a gypo money unless I have to. Did you give any thought to that other business I asked you about?’

  Ewan nodded.

  ‘I think it’s a sensible thing to do.’

  Edward agreed.

  ‘Yes. I’ll look into it.’

  Libby suddenly burst into the room and they both struggled not to look uncomfortable.

  ‘Aunty Rose left her handbag,’ she said picking it up from the floor.

  Ewan couldn’t help wondering if she had been listening at the door. She smiled at him and he nodded in return. Poor cow, he thought, all she wants is for someone to love her.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Present day

  Libby

  ‘Are you going
in?’ asks a girl with pink hair, tapping me on the shoulder.

  I shake my head.

  ‘You can go on ahead of me,’ she offers.

  It’s difficult to see Ewan’s face. He’s turned away from me. He speaks again and now I have no doubt it is him. His body is stockier but still firm and a little shiver runs down my back. I’m shoved forward by the crowd and suddenly Grant is there grabbing two of them by the arm.

  ‘Get off,’ cries one of the men.

  I gesture to Grant and he follows me to the back of the queue.

  ‘It’s not the best place,’ he grunts.

  ‘I’m fine. I just want to watch someone for a little while.’

  Ewan is checking handbags. He’s focused on what he’s doing. I can’t take my eyes off him. His accent is as strong as ever. I can’t see his face and wish he would turn so I can get a good look at him. Have the years treated him well?

  ‘Thanks gorgeous,’ says one of the girls clearly flirting with him.

  ‘Have a good evening,’ he says barely looking at her.

  It is him. I know it is.

  The queue is dwindling slowly and soon I will be conspicuous. I cross the road with Grant behind me. Grant opens the car door and I slide inside. I lean my head against the window and study Ewan from there. He’s smiling at someone and my heart skips a beat. He still has the animal magnetism. The queue ends, and he runs his hand through his hair and says something to the other bouncer. I’m too far away now so that when he glances over my way I can’t see his features clearly. I’m sure it is Ewan. He is looking at the car. I can’t pull my eyes away from him. I know we should go but I can’t. He cocks his head to one side as though trying to figure something out. I gasp as he steps forward into the road and begins to walk towards us. I slide down in my seat.

  ‘Go,’ I say to Grant. ‘Hurry.’

  Grant puts the car into gear and shoots forward. I have trouble breathing. Had he seen me? I hope he had. He’ll know I’m no longer afraid of him. Is that true though, I ask myself, am I really no longer afraid of him? Grant gives me confidence, but the truth is I do fear Ewan and he knows it.

  ‘Can you take me to Fox Lane Road? It’s somewhere in Forest Gate,’ I ask Grant.

  There isn’t a better time to check out Ewan’s place than while he is working. I’m taken aback when I see the house. I had been expecting a block of flats. I wait in the car for a few minutes. I’m fearful that Ewan may have followed us. After several minutes have passed I get out and walk to the front of the house. Grant follows me and waits by the gate.