The Perfect Friend: A gripping psychological thriller

by Barbara Copperthwaite

  Forty-Two

  A thread has been pulled, and at last tall tales are unravelling. Suspicion and relief knot together as Carrie continues to tell her story. She sits on the edge of the sofa, hands tucked between her legs. I’m utterly motionless, afraid to break the spell.

  ‘I should have got out straight away, of course I should have. Common sense screams it, and we all kid ourselves that it’s a case of one strike and he’s out. But I was a young girl under the spell of a much older man, and I made excuses: we’d both been drunk, he hadn’t been himself. He’d never been violent before and wouldn’t do anything like it again. When he saw my face the next morning he cried, holding me in his arms as if I was something delicate and precious. He was inconsolable over what he’d done.’

  She shrugs. ‘I couldn’t walk out on my marriage before it had even begun. Besides, I loved this man and certainly wasn’t going to prove right all the people who’d warned me that things were moving too quickly.

  ‘I don’t know, maybe it was because my own childhood hadn’t been great. My whole life I’d craved attention and love in a family of my own, but never had it – and now I thought I’d found it, I wasn’t going to give it up because of one mistake.’

  ‘Inevitably it wasn’t just one mistake, though,’ I say at last.

  ‘How can I best explain to you why I stayed?’ She gazes up at the ceiling, biting her lip. ‘Have you heard that thing about frogs? If you put them in a pan of boiling water they’ll jump straight out, but if you put them in a pan of cold water and slowly turn up the heat they’ll stay in the water until they boil alive. That was me. I was the frog and Andy increased the heat underneath me so slowly that I barely realised it was happening. He undermined my confidence until he was telling me what to wear and what to eat. If I argued back, he’d hit me.

  ‘I was in fear of my life every single day, and had no idea how I’d got myself into that situation. Instead of the longed-for safety, all I found was cruelty and control. After twelve months of marriage there was no love left inside me – I stayed purely because he made it clear that if I ever left he would track me down and kill me.’

  My heart broke listening to her, remembering, making sense.

  ‘One night he beat me so badly I thought I’d die. That’s when I knew I had to get out – because whether it happened in our house or while I was on the run, I was going to be killed by my husband.’

  Fingers scrabble through cropped hair, then return to their prayer position between her thighs. ‘One day while he was at work I took a bag of clothes and never looked back. I was penniless, but free.’

  ‘Penniless?’

  ‘I’d no money of my own because we shared a bank account, and Andy didn’t trust me with anything more than was necessary to buy our shopping every week. He always checked the receipts to make sure I hadn’t kept any change for myself. So when I left I literally didn’t have two pennies to rub together.

  ‘That day I walked as far as I could and slept under a bush in a park at night. I’ve never been so scared in my life.’

  ‘Couldn’t you have gone to a refuge?’

  She shook her head. ‘The first thing Andy would have done is check local refuges.’

  ‘Their addresses are normally hidden, aren’t they? How would he have found them?’

  ‘Oh, he’d have found a way somehow. Don’t forget, he used to be in the army. He knows all kinds of ways of tracking somebody down. He used to love terrifying me with tales of how he’d go about it if I ever escaped.

  ‘For two years I was on the run, moving from town to town, always changing my name. As a foster kid I’d learned how to survive, becoming a bit of a magpie and stealing people’s lives by pretending to be them. It had been a comfort blanket from reality, back then, and I’d often introduced myself with their last name to fit in with my new ‘family’, but it never lasted. As a result, I’ve never felt particularly attached to my real name. I slipped back into those old ways, and they helped me get by.

  ‘Finally I found a place to settle because a lovely woman called Joanne befriended me.’

  I freeze. Cromer, the missing woman Joanne Freeman and her friend Natalie Sheringham – I’d been right. Honesty is glittering through the slag heap of duplicity at last.

  ‘Letting my guard down was a big mistake. Instead of moving on, I got myself a flat and allowed myself to build a life. I got sloppy about covering my tracks, convinced that after all this time Andy would surely have given up on me. Underestimating his obsession proved fatal.’

  A storm of tears roll down her face. ‘He – he killed Joanne because she stood up to him for me. She confronted him on the beach because she thought that she’d be safe in a public place, but it was winter and nobody was there to see him strangle her. I tried to help her, I really did, but he was too strong. He just let the sea take her body away… ’

  For several minutes there is nothing but the sound of sniffling. I nip to the loo and come back with a roll of toilet paper for us both to wipe our faces. Carrie blows her nose before speaking again.

  ‘It doesn’t matter what happens to me, but if something happened to you because of me I couldn’t live with myself. I’d rather let Andy do what he wants with me. After he killed Joanne I was in such a state of shock I let him take me back home with him. He kept me prisoner for six months, until I managed to escape again. Living on the streets once more, being on the run, it was a horrible déjà vu, but far worse was knowing that I was responsible for the death of my best friend.’

  ‘You aren’t, he is,’ I say.

  ‘It’s because of me. Now I’ve been stupid and selfish again, by staying in Tynemouth and getting close to you. I knew I had to keep on the move, but I liked it here, liked you.’

  A hollow laugh escapes her lips. ‘I had lost a lot of weight with worry. I make myself vomit, it’s useful for pretending to have chemo and it makes me feel better—’

  ‘That’s called bulimia,’ I point out, realising that’s also why Carrie often looks grey and weak.

  ‘Well, I thought it might make Andy less likely to recognise me, too, but a fat lot of good it did me. I’m so tired of running, having no friends or home. But I’ve got to leave this town, not just for my sake but yours, too.’

  Sifting through the mountain of information thrown at me is mentally exhausting. There’s one thing this tragic tale doesn’t explain, though.

  ‘Why did you lie about having cancer? It’s despicable.’

  ‘There’s no excuse, it’s unforgivable, so I’m not even going to try to explain.’

  ‘Well, I want you to. I need to understand what on earth drove you to it, because nothing I’ve heard so far justifies it.’

  ‘It can’t!’ She throws both hands up in the air, but when she realises I’m not going to stop asking, she finally starts to talk again. Her comments are firmly aimed at the floor; she can’t meet my eyes.

  ‘It’s pathetic, okay, but I pretended to have cancer because I felt so lonely. It’s hard making friends when moving from town to town, always on the run, and when I reached Tynemouth something about the place made me want to stay here. I don’t know, I just felt comfortable and wanted to fit in,’ she says. ‘I knew I couldn’t stay here for long, but wanted to make friends and feel loved and safe, protected and cared for, no longer alone.

  ‘Pretending to have cancer meant that happened quickly. I know, I totally get why you’re pulling that face – it’s dreadful, isn’t it? I’m stealing those emotions from people. But it meant that for a little while I slept easier, despite the guilt, because I didn’t feel alone any more. People gave a damn about me and called me every day to check on me – you did that.’

  Another blow into her hanky, before continuing.

  ‘Why did I pretend to be terminal? It would force me to move on and not get too comfortable here.’ Her face crumples. ‘Because I love it here. Everyone’s been so kind to me. And…and I love you like the mother I never had.’

  H
earing those words tears me to pieces, because I love her like the family I lost.

  ‘In the end I hated all the sympathy people gave me,’ she adds. ‘Everyone being so kind, telling me I’m brave and inspirational when actually I’m just a coward. My mum died of breast cancer, so I’ve seen first-hand what it’s like to suffer from it, and that makes me even more ashamed of what I’ve done.’

  There is desperate sadness in her eyes when she finally makes herself look up at me. ‘I don’t expect you to believe me, but I never wanted anyone’s money. If you think back, I kept telling you I didn’t want the bucket list donations.’

  ‘I remember. I tried to get you to spend it several times, and you always turned it down.’

  ‘Exactly! This was only ever a pathetic attempt to get attention. Most of the time I feel like no one would notice or care if I disappeared off the face of the earth, but everyone’s reaction to my “diagnosis” was incredible. I felt part of the human race again. Crazy, isn’t it, that only by pretending to be dying did I truly feel alive again.

  ‘And now… now Andy is here, and he’s going to murder me if I don’t go back with him. Then he’ll probably kill me anyway, at his leisure.’

  Putting my arm around her, I give a sigh. ‘I’ll find a way of stopping this. I promise.’

  ‘That’s what Joanne said. You can’t put your life on the line for me.’

  ‘Let’s go to the police, tell them he’s a murderer.’

  She shakes my arm free and looks at me like I’m mad. ‘There’s nothing tying him to what happened to Joanne. And no proof of what he did to me, either. Plus, I’ve got a juvenile record as long as your arm and a reputation as a liar, thanks to a misspent youth. No one would ever believe me – especially as Andy comes across as charm personified.’

  I think of the newspaper report from the other day. All that’s left of Joanne are bones washed clean of all DNA and other evidence. Police aren’t even sure how she died. Proving someone killed her, let alone who did it, would be impossible. If I go to the authorities with this, given my own reputation with them, they’ll lock me up.

  Forty-Three

  Outside Carrie’s house, normal life continues. Children shout and play, on half-term. Car doors slam shut, engines turn over. People are enjoying day-to-day life, while inside I wrestle with everything I’ve been told.

  Carrie reaches out and gives my knee a friendly squeeze.

  ‘Now you know everything. So, tell me what you know about Andy.’

  Ah, yes, the bluff that started this confession.

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know anything about Andy. But I do know that someone has been sending you messages. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you – if I’d had any idea what was actually going on I’d never have hidden them away. I thought I was protecting you from worry. Instead, I’ve made things worse.’

  ‘Hey, you were looking out for me, and it’s been a long time since anyone did that. I love what you did.’

  Encouraged, I reel off the whole story. As I talk, mysteries are solved.

  ‘Andy’s first picture was of you and me?’ Carrie checks. ‘That makes sense. He knows the best way to scare me into doing what he wants is to threaten those I care about most. Killing Joanne got me to go back with him last time. I bet he was furious when I didn’t respond this time around.’

  I frown, doubt flickering like a faulty lightbulb. It takes a moment for me to know what to say. ‘But how would you have got in touch with him? There were no contact details or instructions on how to do that.’

  ‘In all these years, Andy has always kept the same mobile phone number. He wouldn’t change it now. It’s etched into my brain, and he knows it. If I had seen that picture, along with the jumper he must’ve stolen off my washing line to let me know how he could get close to me any time he wants, I’d have dialled that telephone number immediately.’

  ‘Instead poor Smudge paid the price.’ Carrie’s beautiful tomcat had gone missing immediately after that first message. I dreaded to think what had happened to him. ‘Why the picture of Simon?’ I add.

  ‘Andy must have thought I was still with Simon, and of course the third photograph was of Joanne, to remind me of exactly what he was capable of. Typical of him that in all those messages, he never once spelled out a blatant threat that could be taken to the police. He’s so bloody clever.’

  It’s all incredibly cunning, no doubt about it. ‘He must have followed you to my house and smashed up your car, too.’

  ‘He’s the reason I don’t have insurance. I’d have to use my own name and, call me paranoid, but I’m sure he’d find out somehow. He always finds me, no matter what.’

  ‘He’s been following our every step.’ I shiver. ‘A killer has been dogging me. Following me in the fog. I’d no idea how close to death I’ve been.’

  More random pieces of the puzzle fall into place as I think. Hearing how Carrie has an answer for everything that’s happened leaves me reeling. A thought needs testing out.

  ‘Hey, there’s a random guy I’ve bumped into a couple of times, on the beach and at the hospital. He always stares at me. Bit taller than me, blue eyes, blond, bit of a charmer – does that sound like Andy?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh my God, yes! I can’t believe you’ve seen him. He must be after you, too!’ says Carrie. ‘The first message happened after the bucket list got loads of publicity. That must have been how Andy found me.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’d also put something on Facebook and Twitter a few days before,’ I confess. ‘Now I understand why you were so angry with me about the press taking photos.’

  I close my eyes to shut out the betrayal. When I look at her again, she’s gazing at me.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about this. It isn’t your fault, Alex. Andy would have found me eventually, anyway. He’s never going to give up on me, so realistically I don’t think I’ve got any choice but to give him what he wants.’

  ‘You can’t mean… ?’

  She picks up her mobile. I snatch it away. Stand, so it’s out of her reach.

  ‘There’s nothing else to be done, Alex! I don’t want to do this, goodness knows, but we’re all out of options. No one else is getting hurt for my sake.’

  ‘Over my dead body – literally, if that’s what it takes. Carrie, I’ve got to know you over the last few months. You’re a lovely person who deserves better than this. Yes, you did a bad thing by lying, but it’s still possible to get past it. I’m guessing you’ve been through so much that you’re not thinking straight.’

  Time for my own confession. I sink down beside her again. ‘I understand better than you can imagine the need to hide inside a fabricated world because the truth of your reality is too awful to handle.’

  A deep breath, then another. No more delaying.

  ‘I’ve been lying to you, too: my husband and children are dead.’

  Carrie looks like I’ve punched her in the gut, and I’m guessing my expression is similar.

  After I’ve explained everything to her, she seems shell-shocked.

  ‘I can’t get over everything you’ve been through,’ she says.

  ‘No more than you,’ I shrug. ‘Maybe we bonded so quickly because unconsciously we recognised our mutual pain. You’re desperate for love, and I’m desperate for a family to give it to now that I’m finally ready to open my heart again. As for the lies that you’ve told, yes, they were awful, but I do understand the place they came from, even if I don’t agree with what you did. Who am I to judge you, after my deceit? There’s got to be another way.’

  ‘Oh, Alex, I was getting ready to go on the run again, but telling you about it has made me relive it and, as pathetic as it sounds, I’ve no strength left. I give up. I’ll welcome the peace of death when Andy finally kills me.’

  A cheer from outside, boys whooping. Their joy so at odds with the tension in the room.

  ‘In all of the time I’ve known you I’ve never heard you be defeatist before,’ I say. ‘What happened to �
�be more dog”, or the glass being half-full, and all that about rainbows and happy endings that you’re always spouting? Together we can work out a way of you being free once and for all.’

  ‘You really think so?’

  ‘I know so.’

  The nod Carrie gives is determined.

  ‘That’s the spirit!’ Hugs and grins punctuate our speech. Buoyed up, we start brainstorming ideas.

  A plan is beginning to form. It’s risky, but if it pays off it will be totally worth it.

  Forty-Four

  ‘You’re nuts!’ It’s the only thing Carrie seems to be able to say after I’ve laid out my plan to her. She just keeps staring at me and shaking her head.

  ‘I know it’s a huge gamble, but we can totally pull this off.’

  ‘Nope, no way. I’m out of here – and you should be, too. If we try this, we’ll both end up like Smudge.’

  Inexorably, our gaze is pulled over to the scarlet-caked poster and collar. The sight makes me all the more determined to see this through.

  ‘Put your bag down and listen. If we’re successful you’ll never have to worry about Andy again.’

  ‘And if we don’t we’ll both be sleeping with the fishes. If I go now I’ll have a head start on him, hopefully, even if it does mean sleeping rough again. Argh, why didn’t I save more money while I was here?’

  My idea is simple. Carrie will text Andy, letting him know that he has won and she’s willing to come back home with him. She’ll arrange to meet him at my house. But she won’t be there; it will be me waiting for him. Carrie will be staking out the place and will call the police anonymously the second he arrives, claiming that she can hear screaming.

  ‘I’ll keep him talking,’ I insist. ‘If that doesn’t work, I can run to the loo and lock myself in there until the cavalry arrives.’

  ‘It’s stupid, amateur, risky – you name it! Just let me run away again.’

  ‘Not going to happen.’

  ‘At least let me be the one in the house.’