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

by Lynda Renham

  ‘We’re not talking about other men, are we? We’re talking about Ewan Galbreith. Did you know about the shooting of Ben Mitchell’s boat?’

  ‘Yes, but I never knew who did it until later.’

  ‘Did you ever see Mr Galbreith take risks?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so.’

  ‘You knew he was playing around with Patti Mitchell, didn’t you?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘That was a risk wasn’t it? Doing it like that under everyone’s nose. Making a fool of her husband?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘So, who paid the vet’s bills at Manstead Manor?’

  ‘Edward Owen, I imagine.’

  ‘Not Mr Galbreith?’

  Luke laughed.

  ‘I doubt Ewan could have afforded those kind of vet bills. There were horses, dogs and other animals kept on the farm. I reckon the vet did alright out of Edward Owen.’

  ‘Thank you for your expertise.’

  Luke smiled.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Present day

  Libby

  I stand with my hand on the door handle of Simon’s room. I strain my ears for any sound, but I can only hear the beating of my heart. A chill runs through me and I shiver despite the heat. I should have closed and locked the French doors. A loud banging on the door makes me jump. Surely Ewan wouldn’t knock, would he? I breathe again. Something sitting on the dressing table catches my eye. Something’s familiar but I’m too preoccupied with the person outside. I move cautiously from the bedroom and towards the door. I look around for a weapon to protect myself and snatch a knife from the kitchen counter. My phone bleeps again but I ignore it.

  Through the frosted glass of the front door I see a tall slim figure. It’s a man. Ewan was muscular. I hide the knife behind my back.

  ‘Who is it?’ I call.

  ‘Libby Warren?’ questions a voice.

  No one here knows my surname, no one except Ewan Galbreith.

  ‘Who is it?’ I call again.

  ‘Chief Inspector Mike Magregor.’

  I slide the safety chain across and open the door.

  ‘Libby?’ he says.

  I recognise him. His face is lined and weather-beaten. He’s changed a lot. I wonder how I look to him. He’s staring at me and I shift uncomfortably on my feet.

  ‘You scared the shit out of me,’ I say, relaxing my arm from behind my back. His eyes widen at the sight of the knife.

  ‘That’s not sensible,’ he says nodding towards the knife. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you had someone with you, so I figured it would be okay to drop by.’

  ‘I thought you were Galbreith,’ I say.

  ‘That’s why I’m here. Can I come in?’

  I open the door and allow him to enter. From the window I see Simon walking back from the beach. Inspector Magregor follows my gaze and then looks back to the knife in my hand.

  ‘Perhaps you‘d like to put that away,’ he says.

  ‘Has something happened?’ I ask.

  ‘Inspector Marshall is concerned about you,’ he says, looking around. ‘Nice place you’ve got here.’

  From his expression I get the impression that it is only Inspector Marshall who is concerned about me.

  ‘It isn’t mine,’ I say. ‘Why would Fran be concerned?’

  ‘Ewan didn’t turn up for work last night and he phoned in sick today. It’s probably nothing but Fran thought you should be made aware of it.’

  ‘You think he’s here in Padley?’

  ‘I don’t know. Why didn’t you bring your bodyguard with you?’

  He doesn’t disguise his irritation.

  ‘I shouldn’t even have to have a bodyguard,’ I snap. ‘If the legal system in this country worked properly, Ewan would still be in prison.’

  ‘He was released because of good behaviour.’

  I let out a little scoff.

  ‘Anyway, it might be best to keep all doors locked,’ he says looking at the open French doors. ‘Obviously phone the police if at any time you feel threatened in any way. I wouldn’t recommend taking a knife to someone.’

  ‘I’ve felt threatened ever since he was released.’

  ‘Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about that.’

  ‘How do you know he doesn’t have a gun?’

  ‘We have no evidence to indicate that Ewan Galbreith has a gun.’

  ‘He could have bought one from the criminals he got to know in prison,’ I scoff.

  ‘Yes, he could have,’ says Mike I don’t think he’s that big a fool. Someone is trying to scare you, but I don’t think it’s him.’

  ‘There’s no one else.’

  He shrugs.

  ‘Thank you for coming,’ I say, opening the door.

  ‘Enjoy your visit,’ he smiles.

  I close the front door behind him and curse. My phone bleeps and I pick it up. My mouth turns dry at the messages. They’re all texts from an unknown number.

  Welcome home. How do you find it?

  You’re looking good.

  Perfect weather for a visit

  There’s a photo attachment. I click into it with shaking hands. It’s a grainy photo of the beach house.

  Ewan knows where I am. It’s just a matter of time before he comes.

  Chapter Seventy

  Fifteen years earlier

  New Year’s Eve

  ‘What are you doing tonight Ewan?’ Peter asked.

  ‘I’ll probably go to the pub.’

  ‘There’s a big party at Diamonds in Exeter. Why don’t you come with us? Molly and Kev are coming. Kicks off about ten, it’ll be a fabulous night.’

  Ewan smiled.

  ‘Thanks for the offer mate, but I want to keep an eye on Princess.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Peter, wandering outside. Ewan went to the gun room and prepared the table. Edward had a big shoot tomorrow.

  ‘Clean the shotguns will you Ewan,’ he’d asked. ‘I’ve a couple of friends coming tomorrow. You don’t have to be there. It’s New Year’s Day after all. You’ll be able to sleep off the hangover.’

  Molly hurried in all flustered.

  ‘Ewan, the delivery van with the poultry for the dinner tonight has broken down. Could you pop into Padley and fetch them for me? I’m already behind with getting the food ready.’

  Her cheeks were bright pink from the heat in the kitchen.

  ‘Sure, don’t panic. It won’t take me long.’

  ‘Thank you, Ewan.’

  He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and headed out. He thought about seeing Princess before going but decided against it. An hour wasn’t going to make much difference to her now. He sighed and started the engine.

  *

  Patrick looked at the aeroplane tickets in his hand and sighed with relief. He, Lil and the kids would be on a flight home this time tomorrow. He’d wrapped everything up. They had to be at the airport at 2 a.m. Lil wasn’t happy about that, but it was the best they could offer when he’d asked to change the tickets. He wasn’t going to argue. He just wanted to go home. Get away from Libby Owen before the shit hit the fan. He figured he’d go and see Edward Owen at about eight. Libby would be at her party by then. He’d text her afterwards to see if she’d meet him for a drink. After all, he ought to say goodbye. If she got arsy he’d get in his car, pick up Lil from the hostel and drive to the airport. He’d keep Libby sweet. After all, she might come to Oz, who knows. He wouldn’t say no to a sugar mummy. This made him laugh and Lil demanded to know what’s so funny. He’d be a fool to cut all ties. Once she’s eighteen no one would care, and he might do alright out of it. It might as well be him as anyone else. He wouldn’t give her an address. He’d got her number. He’d stay in touch. Yeah, that’s the best way. Stay in control.

  He checked the time. It would be good to see Libby one last time. Although she did wear him out. At least Lil had never demanded anything. She was too bloody knackered
no doubt. It was no fun with Lil any more. Jesus, her pussy was so fucking large he got lost inside there. Why they’d had three kids he’d never know.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ Lil asked. ‘There are a hundred and one things to do and you’re bloody daydreaming.’

  ‘I’m dreaming about our life when we get home.’

  ‘Huh, you tosser. You’d be better off thinking about the job you’re going to get.’

  He picked up his coat. He was sick to death of Lil’s moaning.

  ‘Where are you going?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m going to see a man about a dog. I’m fucking sick of your moaning. I’ll be back in a few hours.’

  ‘You think I don’t know what you’re up to,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘Everyone knows you’re fucking half of Padley. You think I give a shit?’

  ‘Oh shut up,’ he snarled and slammed the door behind him.

  *

  Ben checked the rear of the boat. There was no doubt about it, the bastard was leaking.

  ‘Fuck.’

  The bloody thing hadn’t been right since Galbreith shot at it. He couldn’t keep repairing the damn thing.

  ‘You weren’t going out tonight anyway were you?’ said Adam.

  ‘Just as bloody well ain’t it?’ retorted Ben.

  ‘That boat hasn’t been the same since …’

  ‘I know that. Bloody Owen should have compensated me.’

  ‘He’s got plenty,’ agreed Adam. ‘There’s a big shoot up there tomorrow, and a dinner party tonight, so I heard.’

  Ben’s jaw twitched. It wasn’t bastard fair the way Edward Owen had covered for Galbreith. It wasn’t bastard fair at all.

  ‘Fucking bourgeois,’ he snarled.

  Adam looked puzzled. He had no idea what bourgeois meant, and he didn’t think Ben did either.

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Present day

  Libby

  I ask Simon to stop as we reach the gates of Manstead Manor.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I just don’t feel ready.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ he says.

  The drive to the house had been nerve-wracking. The closer we get the more nauseous I feel. Now here we are at the gate and it looks exactly the same as it did all those years ago. There’s a bit of rust, but not much. There’s a padlock and chain on the gate. I fumble for the keys in my handbag and Simon takes them from me without speaking and opens the gate. I can see the drive is overgrown. Where once it had been immaculate, it now has an untamed weedy track leading to the house. I look at the gravel and can almost feel the stones digging into my bare feet as they had that night.

  ‘Do you want to drive around for a while?’ Simon asks. ‘Or shall I go up to the house.’

  I shake my head.

  ‘It’s okay. Can we take it slowly though?’

  ‘Sure.’

  My heart skips. Ewan used to say ‘sure’. It was more flippant when he used it though. Simon starts the engine and slowly we make our way along the overgrown driveway. We turn the corner and the house comes into view. The sun is shining on its grey stone and it looks uncannily inviting. Maybe everything was just a dream. Any minute now, Uncle Edward will come out to greet us and Aunty Rose will have a pitcher of home-made lemonade to cool us down. I’m feeling calmer now. I glance at the stables almost expecting Ewan to stroll around from the side of them, but of course he doesn’t. I can’t resurrect the past. Aunty Rose won’t be sitting under the chestnut tree drinking Earl Grey tea and enjoying the hot weather. The sun disappears behind a black cloud and suddenly the house seems cold, grey and imposing. Simon stops the car and I stare up at the house. It’s tatty from the outside. The windows are dark and dirty. The shrubs at the front are overgrown, covering some of the windows. Simon is silent. He stares at the house as though in wonder.

  ‘It looks neglected,’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ he agrees.

  ‘Maybe no one will want to buy it.’

  ‘There’s always someone,’ he says without taking his eyes off the house.

  I can’t shake off the feeling that Ewan is here somewhere, just waiting for me. I curse myself again for not bringing Grant.

  ‘I’m very anxious,’ I admit. ‘I think I ought to phone the security company and see if they have anyone in this part of the country that can come to the beach house.’

  ‘He won’t do anything while I’m with you,’ he says confidently.

  I almost laugh. Ewan would eat Simon for breakfast. He has no idea what we’re dealing with. Simon opens his door. I’m not ready yet, I want to shout but I don’t. Instead I climb from the car too.

  I watch Simon scramble up the steps and fiddle with the keys. It seems to take forever before he finds the right one. The door finally squeaks open. I follow him up the steps and stand on the threshold. The hall smells damp. Simon clicks the light switch, but of course, the power is off. He shines a torch around the hall and I gasp at the sight. Time seems to stand still. It feels like only yesterday that I stood in this hall as a seventeen-year-old.

  ‘What do you think?’ I ask, feeling suddenly proud.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ he breathes.

  ‘Nothing has changed,’ I say.

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘No, things look exactly the same as fifteen years ago.’

  Simon walks through the hallway and to the corridors beyond.

  ‘I can’t,’ I say.

  ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’ he asks.

  I don’t want to be left alone. I don’t want to go to the other rooms and I don’t want to stay here.

  ‘Can we come back another time?’ I ask childishly.

  He smiles.

  ‘It will be the same whenever you do it.’

  He’s right, I know, but it’s too hard. The memories hit me like a sledgehammer. He walks ahead of me and I hurry to keep up with him.

  ‘We should lock the main door,’ I say, speaking my thoughts aloud.

  ‘It’s fine, Libby,’ he says.

  It’s the tone you’d use for a child and I feel very stupid suddenly. I follow him along the corridor. He stops at the library and glances inside.

  ‘They were avid readers,’ he says, looking at all the books. It’s a statement not a question.

  ‘Uncle Edward was.’

  ‘It’s much brighter in here,’ he says.

  My eyes are locked on the door to the morning room.

  ‘Do you mind if I use my Dictaphone?’ asks Simon.

  ‘Dictaphone?’ I repeat.

  ‘So I can note down what needs doing.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course.’

  My heart is hammering. Just being in the house again makes me edgy. Could Ewan be hiding somewhere in the house? Will he appear at any moment? My hands shake at the thought of facing Ewan with a shotgun in his hand. No, I’m being stupid. The gates and the main door were locked.

  ‘Water stain in celling of main hall,’ says Simon.

  ‘What?’ I say coming out of my reverie.

  He doesn’t turn around and I realise he is talking into his Dictaphone.

  ‘I’m just going to look outside.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ I say quickly following him. I don’t want to be alone in the house.

  I watch as he struggles with the kitchen door. After a heavy shove it opens.

  ‘It always used to get stuck,’ I say, remembering how Molly used to complain. It’s bright in the kitchen and I see a mouse scuttle into a corner. Simon unlocks the back door and strolls outside. I look at the stables. I can picture Ewan as clear as anything. His dark hair brushed back, the frown lines on his forehead. That sensuous mouth that I had so much wanted to kiss and the warm brown eyes that had looked at me with such hatred in court. I push his image away with a shake of my head. The lawn at the back of the house is overgrown. Aunty Rose’s beloved cornflowers are buried beneath a mountain of weeds.

  ‘Five missing slates on roof,’ Simon says into his Dictaphone.


  I wish he’d speak to me rather than into that stupid machine. He wanders back inside giving me a smile as he does so.

  ‘Beautiful house,’ he says.

  ‘It’s been so neglected,’ I say sadly.

  It’s my fault. I should have paid someone to keep the grounds nice. I’ll ask Edward to get a gardener. I find myself wondering what happened to Kevin and Molly. I always liked Molly.

  I’m relieved that we seem to be avoiding the morning room. Maybe I won’t have to go in and relive those horrific last moments of Uncle Edward and Aunty Rose’s life.

  ‘Evidence of woodworm on the stairs,’ Simon says climbing them. I feel nauseous and shaky on my feet that the stairs become a massive effort. Simon leaps up them, leaving me way behind. It seems he has forgotten all about me now he’s seen the house.

  ‘Simon,’ I say, giving him a gentle reminder that I’m still here.

  ‘Okay?’ he asks, turning to me.

  ‘Yes, I think it’s the stress,’ I say forcing a laugh.

  Our voices echo in the empty space. I don’t want to go into my old bedroom. I don’t want to be here any more. I want to be back in London where the memories weren’t this close. In London it somehow felt like those things happened to someone else. It was so distant. Here at Manstead everything is so real. We pass Aunty Rose’s dressing room and I see her hairbrush sitting on the dressing table.

  ‘Oh,’ I gasp, feeling myself sway.

  Simon’s arm steadies me, and I cling to it.

  ‘It’s as if she is still here,’ I mutter.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the ripped dress. Don’t think about the screams. Simon waits a moment while I compose myself and then continues on. They’re just memories I tell myself. I have difficulty keeping up with him. He goes back down and waits for me at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Do you still plan on selling it?’ he asks.

  ‘I … I don’t know. I can’t think …’

  ‘It needs some work,’ he says walking through the hall.

  I follow until we’re outside the morning room. He stops, and I hold my breath.

  ‘This is where it happened,’ I say, my breathing now shallow.