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

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Happy to, I’m only sorry I can’t stay longer.’

  He walks to the door.

  ‘You don’t have to see me out. I’ll see you Saturday, about ten?’

  ‘Great,’ I say.

  ‘We’ll do something special when we’re there,’ he smiles. ‘Try not to worry too much.’

  ‘I’d like that.’

  The door closes and I turn the key in the lock.

  Ewan Galbreith isn’t Houdini. I know that, and I don’t buy the idea that there are rats in the block. Something odd is going on and I no longer feel one step ahead of Ewan and that bothers me. It bothers me a lot.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Fifteen years earlier

  Patrick had some money to throw around.

  ‘I won on the games,’ he said.

  He bought her a decent drink for a change and a kebab as they walked to the old textile shop. It was boarded up, but Patrick said he knew a way in. He kept looking behind as though expecting someone to be following them.

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, laughing. ‘Everyone’s celebrating Christmas. No one is interested in us.’

  They climbed over some bins and Patrick carefully removed a plank of wood to reveal a covered entrance.

  ‘It’s a bit tight,’ he said. ‘Watch your clothes.’

  ‘There was some old stock left behind,’ he told her. ‘I took it. Lil made some nice curtains and …’

  She glared at him. The last person she ever wanted to hear about was Lil and his kids. When they were together Libby fantasised about all kinds of things but none of these fantasies included Lil and the kids.

  They made love three times and Libby was satiated. She imagined the hands stroking her breast were Ewan’s and she grabbed Patrick feverishly. The orgasms had overwhelmed her in their intensity. She’d wrapped her legs around Patrick inviting him inside her, the whole time picturing Ewan’s muscular torso.

  ‘I bought you this for Christmas,’ she said afterwards, handing him the whisky bottle.

  His eyes widened.

  ‘Sweet. Thanks babe.’

  A firework exploded outside and he jumped. Libby had noticed he was edgier than usual.

  ‘What was that?’ he said grabbing his jeans.

  ‘Just a firework Pat. Someone starting their New Year celebrations early no doubt. What’s the matter? You’re really nervous tonight.’

  ‘I don’t want that Scottish prick catching me with my pants down.’

  Libby sat up.

  ‘What Scottish prick?’ she asked but she already knew who Patrick meant.

  ‘That gamekeeper of your uncle’s, he came to warn me off the other day.’

  ‘What?’ said Libby, feeling her heart race. Was Ewan jealous?

  Patrick pulled his jeans on and then opened the whisky bottle.

  ‘Your uncle doesn’t like me. He thinks I’m not good enough for you. I suppose he’s right.’

  Libby grasped his arm.

  ‘You are good enough for me. I love you and no one will stop me seeing you.’

  ‘I know babe,’ he smiled before lifting the bottle to his lips.

  ‘I’ll tell Ewan to back off,’ she said.

  ‘Nah, don’t let him know he spooked me.’

  He went to stand up, but Libby stopped him.

  ‘Do you have a present for me?’ she asked.

  He grinned.

  ‘Come on babe. Where have I got money for presents? I’ve got to move off that farmer’s land or that Scottish prick will shoot me in the fucking balls. I need some money.’

  ‘Ewan threatened to shoot you?’ she said shocked.

  ‘Yeah, he did. Anyway, like I told you, we’ve got to go back to Australia.’

  Libby blushed at the thought of Uncle Edward knowing about her flings with Patrick.

  ‘You can’t go to Australia. Please say you won’t go.’

  Patrick sighed. Libby was getting too clingy for him and she was trouble. He didn’t need that Scottish bastard on his back.

  ‘I’ve got to get back babe. The kids will expect me home soon. We’ve still got presents they haven’t opened.’

  Libby put her fingers in her ears. She didn’t want to hear about Patrick’s other life. Maybe it would be best if he went to Australia. It was horrid sneaking around like this, but she loved him.

  ‘You’re only seventeen Libby. I don’t know, maybe I could get done doing it with you?’

  ‘I’ll be eighteen in April,’ she protested.

  ‘But you’re not eighteen now are you? I shouldn’t be doing this.’

  ‘Can you wait until I’m eighteen? I’ll come to Australia with you.’

  Christ, thought Patrick, that’s all I need.

  He’d go and see her uncle. Tell him that Libby was obsessed with him. That he’d tried to break it off. He’d say she lied about her age. Surely he’d give him a bit more to get rid of him. The last thing he’d want is a scandal involving his niece. Galbreith wouldn’t do anything. It was more than Edward Owen’s reputation was worth, and why would Galbreith get himself into deep water for Libby Owen? It was just to frighten him off. He wouldn’t use the gun. No, the uncle would pay up and then he’d be on his way Down Under and Libby Owen would be well and truly forgotten.

  Chapter Fifty

  Fifteen years earlier

  ‘Miss Owen, you said you heard shots coming from the morning room in the early hours of January 1st this year.’

  Libby nodded.

  ‘How many shots did you hear?’

  ‘I can’t remember. I think it was one.’

  ‘So, you heard a shot. Did you hear anyone speaking?’

  ‘Not at first but then I heard Uncle Edward shout and Aunty Rose scream. She sounded petrified.’

  ‘Did you go into the morning room?’

  Libby closed her eyes for a second. The courtroom was deathly silent. She could feel Ewan’s eyes on her. She didn’t want to have to look at him.

  ‘I opened the door. Then I saw Aunty Rose,’ she sobbed. ‘She was on the floor. I … I stepped in the blood. Her dress was ripped and her … her …’

  ‘Take your time.’

  ‘The dress was ripped off her. Uncle Edward shouted for me to run and then I realised there was a man in the room. He was pointing a shotgun at Uncle Edward.’

  ‘Did you recognise the man holding the shotgun?’

  ‘He had his back to me.’

  ‘Did you recognise him?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Was the man with the shotgun Ewan Galbreith?’

  ‘Objection!’

  ‘Rephrase the question, Mr Whittaker.’

  ‘Sorry Your Honour. Miss Owen, did you know the man that was aiming the gun at your uncle?’

  ‘I …I think …’

  ‘Did you or didn’t you know the man?’

  Libby’s legs felt like jelly.

  ‘I … yes, it was Ewan Galbraith.’

  ‘NO!’ Ewan shouted.

  Libby looked over at Ewan. He’d stood up and was pointing at her. Her hands started to shake.

  ‘She didn’t see me. It wasn’t me,’ he shouted.

  Libby’s eyes went to Dianne. She was crying.

  ‘Silence in court,’ called the judge. ‘Mr Galbreith, I must warn you that if you continue to interrupt the witness’s evidence then I will have no choice but to remove you from the court and Miss Owen’s evidence will continue in your absence.’

  Libby bowed her head and wiped tears from her eyes.

  ‘Miss Owen, is it at all possible you saw someone else that night?’

  Libby bit her lip.

  ‘Take your time,’ said the judge.

  ‘I saw Ewan Galbreith,’ Libby said.

  This time there was no outcry from Ewan, but she felt his eyes on her and the hatred in them.

  ‘What did you do after seeing Ewan Galbreith with the gun in his hand?’

  ‘I think … I can’t remember. I think Uncle Edward turned. Maybe he was going
to phone the police. I don’t know. The man …’

  ‘Ewan Galbreith?’

  ‘Shot him in the back. I ran. I didn’t even know where I was going. I remember slipping on blood and crying and just wanting to get away. I should have stayed. I should have tried to save them, I should have …’ she broke down and fell onto the bench behind her.

  ‘Could we have some water please?’

  Libby took the water into her shaking hands and attempted to drink from the glass. She looked up at Ewan. His eyes were hateful. She’d never seen such hate in anyone’s eyes before.

  ‘Where did you run to Libby?’

  ‘The beach, I wanted to get to the beach. I knew there would be lots of people there.’

  ‘Do you remember if Ewan Galbreith chased you?’

  ‘He called my name. I remember feeling scared that he’d seen me.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Owen. No more questions Your Honour.’

  Libby let out a long breath and lowered her head. She didn’t want to look at Ewan or Dianne.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Ten years earlier

  Ewan sat at the back of the drama class and yawned. These workshops bored his arse off, but he had to attend. All part of his rehabilitation, apparently. Although how acting rehabilitated anyone was beyond his understanding. But it passed a few more hours in this dirty stinking hole.

  They’d been studying Macbeth. He’d enjoyed that. Today they were going to look at something new. He strolled into the hall with everyone else. It was a different tutor this time. A woman stood at the front of the hall. On tables in front of her were masks, stage make-up and other paraphernalia. On the table lay the script for the play Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

  ‘Mr Smith is sick I’m afraid, so I’ll be taking the workshop this week. My name is Layla and we are to look at a whole different way to view the theatre.’

  ‘This is going to be boring,’ mumbled another inmate.

  Ewan smiled and nodded in agreement. But as the workshop wore on he found himself fascinated and enthralled. For the first time in years something interested him.

  The workshop lasted for two hours and when they were asked to give a show of hands for who would like further workshops on the subject, Ewan’s hand was the first to go up. He’d taken all the notes from the workshop and ordered books from the library on the subject. His mind was whirring when he returned to his cell.

  ‘Found your vocation Ewan?’ smiled Jeff, his cell mate.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Are we going to see you in the summer play then?’ asked the guard.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Ewan with a grin.

  That night he lay on his bed and thought back to that night. The night of the millennium, the night his life changed. He thought about it most evenings. His mind would travel first to Libby, and then Ben Mitchell before trying to picture Rose and Edward Owen. Some nights he found it hard to remember their faces. Finally, he would think of Patrick. The hatred that had once been in him had mellowed to resigned acceptance. He had no future, while they were out there living their lives, making the most of everything. He picked up the script for Jekyll and Hyde and ran his finger over the title. He thought of Manstead and his cottage. He wondered what had happened to that. Was someone living there now? Dianne had said she thought she saw someone in the garden there but of course she could have been mistaken. Manstead Manor hadn’t been sold, she told him. It was just sitting there like a museum. Libby didn’t live there. She didn’t know where she lived, she said, when he asked. Why didn’t he just forget about her, she wanted to know? Dianne had no idea. No idea at all.

  He closed his eyes and pictured the morning room. Edward had been at his most comfortable there. It was fitting he should die there. He could see the heavy oak desk and the drinks cabinet in the far corner. He could almost taste the whisky on his tongue. His eyes then snapped open. How could he have forgotten? He sat upright as a memory, vague to begin with, entered his head.

  ‘Jesus,’ he muttered.

  Did Edward go through with it? So much had happened afterwards that it had completely gone out of Ewan’s mind. But if Edward had … Ewan daren’t think about it. Because if he had. God, if Edward had … Damn it. He wouldn’t know until the day they let him out of this shithole.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Present day

  Libby

  I should have known the rat was the beginning of the end. I also should have known that I could never be one step ahead of Ewan Galbreith.

  I wake with a raging headache. I’d slept badly. I’d dreamt of the murders and of Manstead. It was probably because I was returning there at the weekend. It has been years since I’d been back. William and Caroline had always visited me. The last time I went to Padley was seven years ago. It had been painful and traumatic. I’d vowed never to go again. I take two painkillers and check my phone and laptop before making breakfast. I’ve decided to get bad news out of the way first thing. My hands tremble as I turn on the laptop. There’s nothing unusual and I breathe a sigh of relief. The phone bleeps as I turn it on. There are messages from an unknown number.

  How is Merlin?

  I immediately know it’s Galbreith. How does he know Merlin’s name? He wouldn’t hurt him. I know that. Ewan loves animals.

  How many more phones are you going to buy?

  And then the tone changes, it becomes insulting and nasty.

  Thought you wouldn’t hear me from me again? Stupid bitch that you are. I’m watching you.

  I struggle to breathe. There are two messages from Donna.

  I’m meeting a client at 11. Are you around for a coffee at one?

  Sorry, can we change that to two?

  There’s one from the bodyguard agency.

  Miss Warren, we received your email that you no longer need a bodyguard. We have confirmed via email and text. Please don’t hesitate to contact us if you need assistance in the future.

  I hurry to the front door and double check the locks before looking down at my phone again.

  Are you reading these? Or are you too chicken to turn on your phone? I’m watching you. Every step you take. Every move you make. I’ll be watching you.

  I angrily throw the phone across the room before checking my emails. Sure enough, there is an email from Fort Rock Security, confirming I’d cancelled my contract.

  I pick up the phone and stare at it. Can he see me? Is he looking at me right now? I text Donna and agree to meet her at two this afternoon. I then turn the phone off. I glance at the landline phone. If Ewan has been into my flat he might have bugged the phone too. It looks okay but I wouldn’t know where a microphone would be hidden.

  ‘Damn him.’

  I pick up the receiver and call the security company.

  ‘I have your cancellation email on the screen in front of me,’ says the woman at the other end.

  ‘Someone hacked my account,’ I say trying to keep calm. ‘Can you please send Grant to my flat?’

  ‘I’ll just see whether he has been assigned somewhere else.’

  I hear her tapping at her computer screen and wring my hands in agitation.

  ‘I can have him with you by this afternoon. Or I can send someone else.’

  I don’t want someone else.

  ‘That’s fine.’

  ‘I’ll let you know when he is on his way Miss Warren.’

  I hang up and then disconnect the phone. Merlin meows for food and I force my weary body to the kitchen. I’ll make sure all the mobiles are off. I place Merlin’s dish onto the floor and suddenly find myself sobbing on the floor beside it.

  Merlin rubs himself against me.

  ‘How?’ I sob.

  How did he get to my phone yet again? How did he get into my flat? I’ve got to make him stop. I can’t stand it. He can’t walk through locked doors, whispers a voice in my head. The safest thing is to stay here. Don’t go out. I pull myself up and switch on my phone. It doesn’t bleep and my racing h
eart starts to slow down.

  Donna, do you mind coming to me. PLEASE.

  She replies immediately.

  What’s wrong? Is it him?

  YES.

  I’ll come to you, no problem.

  I sit staring at the phone for what feels like an eternity. Nothing makes sense. It isn’t possible that Ewan has my new number. It just isn’t possible. I bite my lip nervously and then call Fran.

  ‘He’s coming to get me,’ I say dramatically.

  ‘Calm down,’ says Fran.

  ‘Don’t keep telling me to fucking calm down,’ I scream. ‘The bastard is out of control. He’s been in my flat. He’s somehow got keys. He’s hacked the third phone I bought. He always seems to know the number and …’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she interrupts. ‘Get your locks changed. I’ll arrange a secure line for you and …’

  ‘I’ve seen him. He’s living in Forest Gate. I know where he lives, if you don’t sort this out then I will …’

  ‘Libby …’

  ‘My life is in danger, why won’t you lock him up?’

  I’m struggling to keep calm. I feel sure she can hear the sobs in my voice.

  ‘Libby, we need proof. We need proof he broke into your flat. The police said there was no sign of a break in. We’ve been doing some background checks. He was friendly with a computer hacker when he was inside. We’ll send someone to question him to see if he has had any contact with Ewan since his release.’

  ‘I want you to arrest Ewan,’ I say bluntly.

  ‘On what grounds, Libby?’

  ‘Harassment.’

  ‘Okay, can you prove he is harassing you? Can you prove it is Ewan?’

  ‘No … I …’

  ‘It could be any number of weirdos. Do you still have your bodyguard?’

  ‘They received an email from me saying I didn’t need him any more. I didn’t send it.’