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

by Lynda Renham

  He flings open the door and I let out a small gasp.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Fifteen years earlier

  New Year’s Eve

  ‘Princess is not doing well,’ said Ewan.

  Edward didn’t look up. He was studying some papers on the desk.

  ‘I called the vet.’

  ‘What?’ barked Edward, his head snapping up.

  ‘She’ll need to be put down.’

  ‘For Christ’s sake, can’t you do it? Isn’t that what you’re good at?’

  ‘I’d rather not. Not with Princess.’

  ‘Jesus,’ muttered Edward. ‘He’s going to charge us an arm and a leg.’

  ‘You can afford it.’

  Edward dropped his pen and walked around the desk.

  ‘Don’t you tell me what I can and can’t afford. I pay you to do this kind of stuff.’

  ‘I’m a gamekeeper. I’m not a vet.’

  ‘It’s New Year’s Eve. He’ll charge double, and what do I get back from a dead horse?’

  Ewan turned to the door.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pay.’

  ‘I don’t know why I put up with this crap from you boy, I really don’t.’

  Ewan didn’t answer but opened the door and walked out of the room. He closed it quietly behind him.

  *

  Libby examined herself in the mirror and frowned. The dress she had bought especially for New Year didn’t look so good now. She picked up her phone and smiled at the text message.

  I can get away for a short time at around ten. Can you meet me? I can’t stay long. Let me know, Patrick.

  It was a surprise. She hadn’t expected to see Patrick, so this was an added bonus. Maybe he would go back to Laura’s party with her. She could show him off. After all, she’d be eighteen soon and it wouldn’t matter then who knew. She pulled the clothes along the rail until she found the thin cotton dress that she’d bought last year with Aunty Rose. It would be a bit cold, but that didn’t matter. No one cared about the cold, especially not on New Year’s Eve. She pulled the dress over her head and studied herself in the mirror. The dress was flimsy and you could see her breasts through it. Patrick would love that. She’d freeze without a bra though. Her hair hung loose and she pulled it back into a bun. It made her look older. She thought of Aunty Rose’s pearl drop earrings and hurried from her room to find her aunt. She was probably in the kitchen, organising the food for their dinner party. She skipped down the stairs to the grand hall and collided with Ewan. His arms came out to steady her and she felt his hand accidentally brush her breast. The nipple hardened immediately and her breath caught in her throat.

  ‘Oh,’ she gasped.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, pulling back quickly. ‘I didn’t see you.’

  She wanted to pull his hand back onto her breast, it had felt so good.

  ‘This is my dress for the party,’ she said twirling.

  He looked angry and she wondered what she had done.

  ‘It’s nice,’ he said without any feeling in his voice.

  ‘How’s Princess?’ she asked, wondering if that was why he didn’t seem himself.

  ‘She’s not great. I’d better go.’

  ‘I’ll come and see her,’ she said.

  But he had gone through the hall and out the front door. Why don’t you like me? She wanted to scream.

  Molly came from the kitchen and smiled.

  ‘Lovely dress,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you, Molly. Is Aunty Rose in the kitchen with you?’

  ‘Don’t you know?’ Molly said.

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Mrs Owen has got a migraine. The dinner has been cancelled. There’s an awful lot of clearing up to do and so much food to be wrapped for the freezer.’

  ‘Oh no. Is she in bed?’

  ‘I think so.’

  Libby felt a small flutter of panic in her stomach. Hopefully Uncle Edward wouldn’t make a fuss about her going out. After all, she had told Aunty Rose, but they’d been so focused on their own dinner party and hadn’t been that interested in her plans. She decided not to bother Aunty Rose about the earrings. She had plenty of her own. It was best not to draw any attention to her plans. She glanced out of the window to see Ewan walking into the barn and followed him. It was cold in her flimsy dress and she was shivering when she reached the stables. Ewan was bent over Princess and didn’t hear her come in.

  ‘How is she doing?’

  He turned, and she thought she heard him sigh.

  ‘I’ve just given her a sedative. Neil will be out later. He’s going to put her down.’

  ‘Oh, Ewan,’ she said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

  He shrugged it off gently.

  ‘It’s for the best,’ he said.

  If only she knew why he didn’t like her, after all Patrick couldn’t get enough of her so it wasn’t like she was undesirable. Every time she made it clear to Ewan that she liked him, he rejected her. Not even in a sensitive way. Libby felt the anger mount up inside her. How dare he make her feel inadequate? She was ten times better than that Patti Mitchell, who was nothing but a slut. Everyone said so. She bet he’d change his mind when she was eighteen and had her inheritance. He’d want her then. Well, she’d tell him to go stuff it. She’d look forward to that day.

  ‘Have a good evening,’ she said her voice flat before hurrying back to the house.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Present day

  Libby

  I don’t know what I’m expecting to see as I look into the room where Aunty Rose and Uncle Edward died. The desk is how it always was. The room is tidy and clean, no one would ever guess what had happened here. My skin tingles and I rub at my arm.

  ‘I need a drink,’ I say pointing to a cabinet on the opposite wall. ‘Uncle Edward kept whisky in there. Do you think it’s still there?’

  ‘It’ll be good vintage if it is,’ Simon smiles. He steps towards the cabinet and then hesitates.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I say.

  He opens the cabinet door. It’s just how it used to be. Simon takes two glasses and pours a large measure. The whisky calms my shaking body and Simon nods in approval.

  ‘It’s good whisky.’

  ‘Ewan used to say that.’

  He smiles and looks around the room.

  ‘You should sell the paintings,’ he says, stepping closer to study them.

  I manage to get my shaky legs to the couch by the desk and ease my body onto it.

  ‘I suppose I should.’

  He studies the painting closely and then moves onto another one.

  ‘Do you know about art?’ I ask, leaning my head back.

  ‘A bit,’ he mumbles, looking closely at another painting.

  ‘Uncle Edward liked his paintings,’ I say. ‘Although how he got some of them is a bit dubious, so William said.’

  ‘Really,’ he smiles.

  I nurse my whisky while he studies the paintings. I’d decided that after this room we will leave. It’s all too much. I can auction the paintings. I’ll speak to William this evening.

  ‘It looks like there is something behind this one,’ Simon says suddenly, lifting a painting from its mounting.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He doesn’t reply. He’s too immersed in studying what was behind the painting.

  ‘What’s that?’ I say, looking at a mark on the wall.

  Simon reaches up. His hands are shaking.

  ‘Simon …’ I begin.

  ‘It’s a camera,’ he says.

  I sit up, my body suddenly alert.

  ‘A camera, what kind of camera?’

  He turns to face me.

  ‘A video camera.’

  It feels like my heart stops. Everything stands still.

  ‘Didn’t you know about this?’ he asks.

  I let out a long breath and shake my head. He turns from the wall and opens the drawers in the desk.

  ‘What are you looking for?�
��

  ‘The video recorder,’ he says, rummaging in the drawers. ‘It will be interesting to know if the camera was used or not.’

  ‘Simon … I …’

  He opens a cupboard next to the drinks cabinet.

  ‘Bingo,’ he says triumphantly as he pulls a tape from the machine.

  I’m confused. Why did Uncle Edward have a camera in the morning room?

  ‘You know what this means?’

  I shake my head in confusion.

  ‘If this is the last tape, then that means the murder will be on it. It could well have recorded the whole thing.’

  He holds up the tape.

  The room suddenly spins around me and then everything turns black.

  *

  Fifteen years earlier

  Ewan didn’t watch Libby leave the stables. He was too preoccupied with Princess. She was sleeping calmly now. In an hour or so Neil would come, and it would all be over. What a way to start the millennium, he thought.

  He stood, took one last look at Princess and wrapped a scarf around his neck. He’d get a few pints into him; that would help.

  He hadn’t expected the pub to be so busy, later perhaps but not yet. People were starting early it seemed. He made his way to the heaving bar and waved to Luke.

  ‘Evening Ewan, starting the celebrations early?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it celebrating.’

  ‘You alright, Ewan?’

  ‘Yeah, Princess is being put down later.’

  ‘I’m sorry mate.’

  Ewan shrugged.

  ‘That’s how it goes.’

  He spotted Dianne with her mates and made his way over to her.

  ‘It’s going to be a good night,’ said Greg. ‘Have that as a chaser. Let me get some more beers in.’

  Ewan nodded. The more he drank the less he’d have to think about Princess.

  ‘How’s the horse?’ said one of Dianne’s friends, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

  Ewan gave her a smile. Any other time he’d be up for a bit of fun, especially tonight of all nights.

  ‘She’s not so good, thanks.’

  ‘Well, if you need company tonight just let me know,’ she said huskily.

  He thought back to Libby in the stable and frowned. He needed to talk to Edward. He didn’t want to leave Manstead, but he didn’t want that kind of hassle every day at work. He didn’t know what to do with the wallet. He didn’t like to throw it away but using it might encourage her even more.

  ‘I’m really sorry about Princess,’ said Dianne. ‘I know how fond you are of her.’

  He took the beer offered by Greg and drank half in one go.

  ‘Yeah,’ he muttered, checking the time on his phone.

  He had time for a couple more.

  ‘Things will liven up here later,’ said Greg. ‘Luke has a band coming in. Pop back if you feel up to it. There’s not much else you can do.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks.’

  ‘I saw Libby the other day’ said Dianne, leaning closer to him. ‘She had loads of make-up on.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘She’s going to get into trouble one day,’ said Dianne.

  ‘It’s not my problem,’ he said, finishing the beer.

  ‘I’ll get the next,’ he said getting up.

  Soon he would have to go back and be with Princess. He wanted to be there. He didn’t want her to face it alone.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Present day

  Libby

  I open my eyes to the sound of my phone vibrating on Uncle Edward’s desk. I turn to look at it and then realise I can’t move. Panic rises within me. My wrists and ankles are tied to Uncle Edward’s chair with duct tape. There’s no one else in the room. I open my mouth to shout and then stop myself. I try to breathe steadily but fear has now overwhelmed me, and my breathing comes out in sharp pants.

  What’s happened? Is Ewan here? Where is Simon? Is he tied up somewhere too? I try to look behind me.

  ‘Simon?’ I whisper.

  My phone stops vibrating and then there’s silence. The only sound is the occasional rumble of thunder. My bag, where’s my bag? I groan when I spot it on the table, way out of my reach. The car keys and Simon’s wallet are next to it. I look at the wallet. I can’t take my eyes off it. I turn to the door as it opens and Simon walks in.

  ‘You’ve come round,’ he says nonchalantly.

  ‘Simon, I …’

  ‘You had a shock.’

  I watch in horror as he pulls at his hair. I am shaking so much that the chair rocks on the marble floor beneath me. He’s tugging so hard I feel sure blood will soon run from his head, but it doesn’t. Instead the hair comes away in his hands. He pulls off the wig to reveal gelled back brown hair. I gasp. My eyes roam back to the wallet and then I realise. It’s the wallet I bought Ewan all those years ago. I’d seen it in the bedroom at the beach house, but it hadn’t registered. The leather is still new and the antlers can be seen as clear as anything

  ‘Good disguise don’t you think?’ he says peeling away his blond eyebrows.

  The Scottish accent is as pronounced as ever. The shock is too much and I feel my head swim again. He smiles and puts a glass of whisky to my lips. I turn away angrily, but he forces my head back.

  ‘Don’t be a fool. Drink it. It’ll help with the shock.’

  I take a gulp and feel the liquid burn my stomach. I watch mesmerised as he removes a plate from his mouth and takes off his glasses. Above his left eye I can now see a faint scar. I close my eyes and when I open them again I see he has removed the blue contact lenses and in front of me now stands Ewan Galbreith.

  *

  Fran tried Libby’s number again, and again it went to voicemail. She’d tried her at the beach house but there had been no reply there either. It was stupid to worry but it wasn’t like Libby not to answer her phone. Fran felt somehow responsible for her now she was in Padley. She looked out of the window thoughtfully and then grabbed her jacket and walked to Mike’s office.

  ‘I can’t get hold of Libby,’ she said without preamble.

  Mike didn’t look up.

  ‘Mike, did you hear me?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he muttered. ‘I’m just finishing this report.’

  She sighed.

  ‘Do you think just once you could give me your attention? God knows, I’ve waited for it the past seventeen years,’ she snapped.

  He lifted his head.

  ‘You threw me,’ he said. ‘I was about to come to your office and ask if you wanted to come out for dinner tonight. Then you come in here and I’m totally thrown.’

  ‘Dinner?’ she repeated.

  ‘You do eat dinner?’

  ‘Of course I eat dinner.’

  ‘Great, I’ll book us a table.’

  ‘Mike, about Libby Warren.’

  Mike fought back a sigh.

  ‘Perhaps she doesn’t want to talk to you. She’s brought a bloke with her don’t forget. Maybe they don’t want to be disturbed.’

  Fran bit her lip.

  ‘It just isn’t like her. If we could get hold of Galbreith I’d feel happier.’

  But Ewan Galbreith was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Fifteen years earlier

  New Year’s Eve

  Patrick watched as the taxi drove out of Manstead Manor with Libby in the back. He checked his watch. Eight fifteen. This gave him plenty of time. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too much trouble getting in to see the old man. As luck would have it he saw Edward Owen walking to the stables. Patrick smiled. At least he wouldn’t have to knock on the main doors. This made things a whole lot easier. His luck was finally in. He rehearsed in his head the words he was going to say to Edward Owen. He needed this money. It’s not like Owen couldn’t afford it. He had plenty. It didn’t seem right some people having so much while others had fucking sod all.

  He reached the stables, ran his hand through his hair and was about to
walk in when he heard a gunshot from inside. Patrick froze.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he muttered, looking around. What the fuck was going on? He wasn’t going to stick around and get shot. He needed to get out and fast. Christ, he was only a few hours away from a plane ride home. He turned on his heel only to be stopped by Edward Owen.

  ‘What the hell are you doing on my land?’

  Patrick stopped. His legs felt suddenly weak beneath him. He turned to face Edward who stood in front of him, a shotgun held loosely in his hand. Jesus, thought Patrick frantically. The man’s mad. Who the fuck did he just shoot?

  ‘I …’

  ‘Speak up man?’ growled Edward.

  ‘I came to …’

  ‘Came to what? I thought you’d gone. What do you think you’re playing at?’

  Patrick’s eyes were fixed on the shotgun. He couldn’t stop shaking, damn it. Edward looked down at the gun in his hand and smiled.

  ‘I’m not going to shoot you, you moron.’

  ‘I … I came to ask for money,’ Patrick blurted out. ‘I’m flying to Australia tonight but Libby …’

  ‘Libby what?’

  ‘She said she’s coming out to Australia. I’ve tried to get her off my back. I really have but she’s insistent, says she in love with me. That she wants us to have a baby together.’

  Edward’s lip curled.

  ‘Why on earth would I want to give you more money?’

  ‘Because, maybe I’d like to give her a baby,’ said Patrick with a grin.

  The butt of the gun whacked him in the face and sent him reeling backwards. He clutched his face and groaned in agony.

  ‘Jesus,’ he moaned, tasting blood in his mouth.

  ‘You’re getting no more money from me you dirty smelling gypo. Get off my property before I really lose my temper and blow your head off.’

  Patrick spat out the blood and felt his front tooth wobble.

  ‘Fuck,’ he groaned. ‘I’ll get the police onto you.’

  ‘Do that,’ said Edward giving him a shove. ‘If you get my niece pregnant, I promise I will find you and castrate you.’