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

by Lynda Renham

  Princess looked at him, her eyes pleading.

  ‘Alright my lovely, alright,’ Ewan said, his voice thick with emotion. He couldn’t do it. Not to his Princess.

  He lifted the gun, struggled to steady his aim and when he finally felt sure he could do it, he fired. He knew he’d hit his target by the way Princess relaxed. He threw the gun outside and fell beside the horse. He cradled Princess in his arms.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry my beautiful girl.’

  He had no idea how long he stayed with his arms around the horse but when he finally stood his jeans and top were soaked with blood and his bad arm throbbed. He walked slowly from the stable and picked up the shotgun. There was one cartridge left. He should take it out before he did something stupid. He should have but he didn’t. Molly spoke to him as he passed through the kitchen. He ignored her. She was busy wrapping chicken for the freezer and didn’t notice the blood on his clothes. He went to the morning room, but Edward wasn’t there. He helped himself to a large glass of whisky and downed it in one. It helped a bit but not enough, so he poured himself another and took it with him to the library. The gun hung loosely in his other hand. He didn’t bother knocking. Edward turned as the door opened.

  ‘Oh it’s you,’ he said on seeing Ewan and then his eyes travelled down Ewan’s blood-soaked clothes.

  ‘You bastard,’ Ewan said.

  Edward’s eyes moved to the gun.

  ‘How much would it have cost? I said I’d pay.’

  ‘What are you on about boy? What’s happened?’

  Ewan laid his glass onto a side table.

  ‘You know what I’m on about. I should take a shotgun to you, you heartless bastard, that’s all you deserve.’

  Edward shook his head.

  ‘Ah, the horse. I can’t waste money on an old horse.’

  Ewan leapt forward, his hands grasping Edward by the throat.

  ‘You fucking lowlife,’ he shouted.

  Edward struggled to get out of Ewan’s grasp, but he was young and strong. Edward was no match for Ewan and he knew it.

  ‘Let me go Ewan,’ he gasped.

  Ewan released his grip and stepped back, pointing the shotgun at Edward’s chest.

  ‘You didn’t even do it properly. You just left her.’

  Edward stared at the shotgun with fear in his eyes.

  ‘Don’t be a fool, Ewan. It was only a horse.’

  Ewan’s eyes slanted and he aimed the gun, his finger moving onto the trigger. Edward’s body began to shake. Their eyes met and Edward nodded.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  Ewan slowly lowered the shotgun and took a step back.

  ‘I’m finished here. You need to get yourself a new gamekeeper. I’ll clear my stuff out tomorrow.’

  He turned and made for the door.

  ‘Ewan, don’t be …’

  The door slammed shut and Edward fell into a chair.

  Chapter Eighty

  Present day

  It was a fancy restaurant and Fran was surprised. Mike’s style was normally cheap and cheerful.

  ‘This is very nice,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Mike, clearly embarrassed. ‘I thought if we’re going to dinner, we should do it properly.’

  Fran nodded, impressed. The waiter showed them to their table and Fran began to worry that maybe she was underdressed.

  ‘I’d have worn a dress if I’d known,’ she said.

  Mike scoffed.

  ‘You in a dress?’

  ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I just can’t imagine it, that’s all.’

  ‘You’ve seen me in a dress.’

  ‘Have I?’ he said looking thoughtful.

  ‘At the Christmas party.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’

  He probably hadn’t noticed, thought Fran, looking down at the menu. She’d been expecting her phone to bleep. It was worrying her that Libby hadn’t messaged back. She would surely know that Fran was concerned. She slipped her hand into her bag and pulled the phone from it. There were no new messages. She didn’t like to voice her concern to Mike yet again. It would be a shame to spoil this dinner. She’d pictured this dinner for the past ten years, never imagining that it would really happen.

  ‘What are you having?’ asked Mike.

  Fran glanced at the menu. Maybe she should phone William. Everything’s probably fine. Libby is no doubt enjoying her time with her new beau, Simon.

  ‘Erm …’ said Fran.

  ‘Do you want a beer?’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘I’m having the poached salmon,’ said Mike. ‘Do you want a starter?’

  ‘They’re expensive,’ said Fran.

  Mike laughed.

  ‘I knew I could rely on you to watch the expenses.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Thanks for inviting me Mike.’

  He looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Yeah, well … I’m not good with this stuff. There’s no need for us to advertise it at work is there?’

  ‘No,’ she smiled.

  ‘Maybe we could go to the cinema one night, or the theatre.’

  ‘The theatre? I never had you as the theatre type.’

  ‘You like it though.’

  She smiled.

  ‘I’ll have the salmon too,’ she said.

  The waiter took their order and she relaxed back in her chair and sipped her beer. Mike clinked his glass against hers.

  ‘To new beginnings,’ he said. ‘Isn’t that what they say?’

  She was about to answer when her phone rang. It wasn’t Libby and her heart sank.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Inspector Marshall?’

  ‘Yes, who is this?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you were still on this number. It’s William, Libby’s …’

  ‘Yes, I know who you are.’

  ‘I hope I’m not disturbing anything.’

  Fran hid her irritation.

  ‘No, it’s fine. How can I help?’

  ‘It’s probably nothing but Libby was due to come over for dinner. They’re staying at our beach house. They were due here about forty minutes ago. I’ve tried her mobile but she’s not answering. We tried the beach house too but they’re not answering that phone either. It’s probably nothing but …’

  ‘We’re on our way.’

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Present day

  Libby

  Ewan unties my ankles and I fight the urge to kick him. I don’t relish another slap. He lifts me to my feet and pushes me forward.

  ‘We’ll have our own little video night,’ he smiles.

  I watch with a sinking heart as he grabs my phone from the table. I now see a video player has been set up by the flat screen television. He pushes me into a chair and ties my feet again.

  ‘Won’t be a sec,’ he says.

  He leaves the room. Is it worth screaming? No, not here at Manstead. Only someone on the estate would hear me and who is going to be on the estate now? My eyes search the room. I’ve got to get help but how? Ewan comes back into the room carrying a shotgun and I freeze.

  ‘Right,’ he says purposefully.

  I squirm in my seat as he unties my hands.

  ‘You need to call William,’ he says thrusting my phone at me. ‘You’re not feeling well. We can’t make dinner.’

  ‘I …’

  ‘Do it Libby,’ he says pointing the shotgun at me.

  I take the phone and fumble with the buttons.

  ‘Speaker phone,’ he instructs. ‘Don’t do anything stupid.’

  William answers on the first ring.

  ‘Libby, we were getting anxious.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m really not feeling well. I’ve got this terrible migraine. Do you mind if we leave dinner tonight? I’m so sorry. I was hoping it would go but …’

  ‘Oh right. No, of course, it’s fine. Erm … the thing is I phoned Fran and …’

  Ewan stares at me. The shotgu
n is steady in his hand.

  ‘Oh, okay, I’ll call her.’

  ‘We’ll see you tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, we’ll come first thing.’

  I hang up and look at Ewan.

  He grabs the phone from me.

  ‘We’ll send Inspector Marshall a text,’ he says.

  I feel deflated. He throws the phone onto a chair and places the shotgun onto the floor before retying my hands.

  ‘Nice and cosy,’ he says, putting more logs onto the fire.

  ‘Ewan …’

  ‘Showtime,’ he grins.

  ‘Ewan, please don’t make me … You don’t understand.’

  ‘You owe me Libby Owen. You owe me big time. You fucking lied in court. You put me away for fifteen years. Why did you do that? I was twenty-four. I had my whole life ahead of me. Was it revenge? Was my rejection of you that hard to take that you’d want to destroy the best years of my life?’

  Tears run down my cheeks.

  ‘Ewan, you know I didn’t …’

  ‘Stop it, ‘ he yells. ‘Did you actually see anything that night?’

  ‘You’re insane,’ I cry. ‘You killed them and you’re going to go back inside for what you’re doing to me.’

  ‘I’m never going back inside Libby.’

  ‘You ruined my life,’ I spit at him. ‘You took everything from me. I have no one.’

  ‘You lied.’

  He lifts my chin and looks into my eyes.

  ‘You underestimated me.’

  I avoid his eyes.

  ‘You had the perfect life. How the hell did I ruin that?’

  ‘Patrick,’ I say.

  He laughs.

  ‘That Aussie idiot? He had three kids, Libby. He was only interested in money.’

  I meet his eyes.

  ‘He loved me. He wouldn’t even have thought about going back to Australia if you hadn’t told Uncle Edward about him. You scared him off. Why couldn’t you have kept out of my life?’

  ‘Bollocks. Your uncle paid him off. He wasn’t going to stay here. He didn’t want you. He wanted money and a nice virginal bit of stuff on the side. You were able to provide both.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I shout. ‘He loved me.’

  ‘You needed someone to love you, but he played you for a fool Libby.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I yell.

  ‘He lied too, didn’t he?’

  ‘To protect me.’

  ‘To protect himself you mean. Did you think of me when I was banged up? Did you think of me and feel yourself?’

  I blush.

  ‘I thought as much. I feel sorry for you Libby. I always did. That makes me a bigger fool I suppose.’

  He moves away from me.

  ‘I’m wasting time. Let’s have our video night, shall we? I’m looking forward to this.’

  I close my eyes and feel the tears run down my cheeks. My eyes are sore and gritty from crying and my head aches. I can no longer feel my hands where Ewan has tied them too tightly. My heart begins to hammer in my chest as I watch him slide the cassette into the video player. Oh God, please let it not work. Don’t make me watch that horror all over again. Fran, please come, please rescue me.

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Fifteen years earlier

  ‘Mr Galbreith, on the night of the 31st December 1999 did you shoot Edward and Rose Owen?’

  ‘No, I did not.’

  ‘Libby Owen said she saw you.’

  Ewan looked over at Libby, his lips tight.

  ‘She didn’t see me shoot anyone. She was upset. She made a mistake.’

  ‘But you did threaten Edward Owen that evening?’

  ‘I was upset. I didn’t mean it. The words came out in anger.’

  ‘Would you say you have a short temper Mr Galbreith?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you can be impulsive?’

  ‘No, I’m not impulsive. I give everything careful thought.’

  ‘When was the last time that you saw Edward Owen alive?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Sometime after eight-thirty. Neil gave Princess a sedative at around seven-thirty. He said he would come at eight-thirty to put her down.’

  ‘Why didn’t you put her down? You’re an excellent marksman?’

  Ewan swallowed.

  ‘I was too fond of her. I didn’t want to do it.’

  ‘I see. Edward Owen didn’t want you to call the vet, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, he said it would cost too much and was a ridiculous waste of money. He thought Neil would charge double as it was New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘So, what did you do during that time before the vet came?’

  ‘I went to The Crown.’

  ‘People have testified seeing you there and confirmed you were upset.’

  Ewan nodded.

  ‘So, later that evening you went back to Manstead?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you go to the stables first?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What did you find?’

  Ewan looked down at his feet. He clenched his jaw before looking up.

  ‘Princess had been shot.’

  There was a gasp from the jury.

  ‘Who’d shot her?’

  ‘Edward Owen.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’

  ‘He didn’t want to pay for the vet.’

  ‘So, what was the problem with that? Princess was going to be put down anyway, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Edward had cancelled the visit and shot Princess himself.’

  ‘Go on Mr Galbreith.’

  ‘He botched it. She was still alive and in pain. The bastard hadn’t finished the job, so I had to.’

  ‘This was a horse you were extremely fond of.’

  Ewan nodded, his jaw twitching.

  ‘So you must have been very angry.’

  ‘Yes. But not angry enough to kill him.’

  ‘But angry enough to threaten him?’

  ‘It wasn’t a threat.’

  The barrister looked down at his paperwork.

  ‘“I should take a shotgun to you, you heartless bastard. That’s all you deserve.” Are those your words?’

  ‘Yes but …’

  ‘I put it to you Mr Galbreith, that on the night of the 31st December you were overcome with rage and grief after what had happened to your horse and that under the influence of alcohol consumed at The Crown, you returned to Manstead Manor in a murderous rage ….’

  ‘That’s not true,’ said Ewan.

  ‘That Rose Owen, seeing the shotgun in your hands, screamed in fear and so you shot her.’

  ‘No,’ said Ewan firmly. ‘That didn’t happen.’

  ‘Miss Owen said she saw you shoot her uncle.’

  ‘She didn’t see me.’

  ‘Are you saying you didn’t see Miss Owen that night?’

  ‘Yes I did but …’

  ‘So you admit that you were at the house after midnight on the 31st December?’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘No more questions Your Honour.’

  Ewan cracked his knuckles in frustration.

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Present day

  Libby

  There’s no warmth in Ewan’s smile.

  ‘Are you sitting comfortably? Anything you need before we start? It could be a long one, if it even works of course. We might be disappointed if it runs out before the murder scene.’

  He grins at me.

  ‘There’s nothing you want, like a pee or …’

  I shake my head.

  ‘I’ve got some beers in the car. Don’t go anywhere will you?’

  I can feel beads of sweat on my forehead, but I’ll be damned if I’ll ask him to wipe it away like I’m some fucking child. My phone bleeps and I stare at it longingly. Ewan returns, cracks open a can of beer and then picks up my mobile.

  ‘There’s a message from Inspector Marshall. Thanks for letting me know Libby. Have a good evening. Don’t hesitate to ca
ll if you’re worried. That’s nice isn’t it?’

  I have to escape. There has to be a way. He thinks he’s in control. I have to make sure he isn’t. He clicks the video recorder button and a fuzzy picture appears on the screen. Ewan leans forward to study it.

  ‘It worked,’ he says.

  The screen flashes and a jerky frame pops up onto the screen. It’s Molly entering the room. Ewan turns and smiles at me.

  ‘Shall we fast forward?’

  He pushes a button on the remote and my head thumps as I watch the frames. Then I see myself. Ewan hits the play button and there I am. Seventeen years old. I’m shocked to see how much I have changed.

  ‘You’ve changed,’ smiles Ewan.

  Memories rush through my brain and it’s as though it was only yesterday that I lived here at Manstead Manor. I watch mesmerised as my other self opens the desk drawer. I’m looking around furtively. I’m wearing my blue chiffon dress. I remember this. I’d wanted some extra money for New Year’s Eve.

  ‘I did wonder if it were you that was taking the money,’ Ewan says. ‘Patrick liked a good time with you, didn’t he? Was that why you took it?’

  I don’t reply. I wriggle my hands behind me in an effort to squeeze them out of the tape. They’re hot and swollen. I fight back tears. I don’t want Ewan to know how scared I am. The rifle lies at his side. Is it loaded or is he bluffing?

  ‘How much did you steal?’

  He’s goading me.

  ‘It wasn’t much.’

  ‘But you bargained on the blame falling on Molly or Peter …’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  The video is forwarded and I struggle again to pull my hands through the tape.

  ‘Ah,’ he says, ‘what’s this?’

  The frame is paused. Aunty Rose is lying on the couch. It looks like Uncle Edward is stoking the fire. Nausea rises up in me. It begins as a small crampy pain in my abdomen and then builds up until no amount of deep breathes help.

  ‘I’m going to throw up,’ I say.

  *

  ‘Who is this new bloke Libby Owen’s seeing then?’ Mike asked. He’d had a couple of brandies and was feeling relaxed. He’d ask Fran back to his new flat maybe. He couldn’t imagine her saying no.