I hold up my hand to stop her talking. ‘We’ve been over this. It has to be me in the house with Andy because you can’t be involved in reporting him to the police, owing to your record. You said yourself you can’t go to the police as it might be held against you, or Andy might find a way to wriggle out of it by using it against you. I have no connection with him, past or present, and therefore no reason to lie to the police about what happened. They’ll believe me and arrest him, and he’ll go down for burglary.’
Honestly, I’ve no idea if this will work, but at least my voice isn’t giving away any hint of doubt. Carrie needs me to be strong. At long last, whether she appreciates it or not, I’m stepping up for those I love. I feel lighter and freer than I have in years – it seems Rosie has been right all this time.
I’m not sure how supportive she’d be of me trying to trap a murderer, though.
With that in mind, I try again to persuade Carrie.
‘You’ve told me the only thing in the world Andy wants is you, Carrie. Let’s make him believe he’s going to get what he wants. This will work.’
Shoulders hunched, head down and shaking, finally she gives an exaggerated shrug. ‘Okay, okay! I give in. We’ll try it your way. But if anything happens to you, I will never forgive myself.’
‘Best send that text now before you have a chance to change your mind again.’
Together we work on the wording until we feel we’ve struck the right balance of anger and despair.
‘He mustn’t be able to sense any hope in my message or he’ll know something is being planned,’ says Carrie.
My nod is emphatic. ‘The only way this scheme can work is if we catch him unawares.’
We wait and wait for a reply. Nothing comes.
‘Are you sure there’s service?’ For the thousandth time, I pick up Carrie’s mobile and check how many bars it’s showing. Full service.
‘It’s not going to work – he should’ve been in touch by now. I expected him to reply immediately. Maybe he’s changed his number,’ Carrie panics.
She’s been pacing for the last hour. Generally that’s what I’d be doing, too, but in this moment of utmost stress my normal coping mechanisms are obsolete. There’s no haunting compunction to burn calories. Instead, I nibble on a cheese and salad sandwich. I don’t know why I feel so mentally strong, and can only assume it’s because I’ve found somebody to be strong for. Whatever the reason, it’s welcome. After all these years I’m finding myself again – exactly when it’s most needed.
With so much happening out of the ordinary, it feels surreal to glance at the clock and realise I’ve got an appointment.
‘Damn! Someone’s coming over to pick up their dress. I’ve got to run,’ I gasp. ‘Are you going to be okay on your own? Maybe you should come with me.’
‘You go. I’ll let you know the second I hear anything.’
A hurried hug, and I’m on my way.
* * *
I reach home in the nick of time, as the client is knocking on my door and checking her watch. There’s an almost dreamlike feel to having a conversation about darts, hemlines and pleating, as my mind drifts to blackmail, murder and violence.
My client doesn’t seem to notice. She’s really pleased with the gown, and doesn’t want a single thing changed. I thank my lucky stars for that. The smile on her face couldn’t be bigger as she finally gets to take her wedding dress home, the future shining bright in her eyes.
* * *
I’ve barely closed the door when frantic knocking makes me jump up again. It’s Carrie. She’s breathless. Shoves her phone towards me.
There’s a message from a number I don’t recognise.
I’m coming to get you at 9 p.m. tonight. Don’t keep me waiting.
Forty-Five
Check the time, peer out of the window, check under the pillow for the hammer, feel in my pocket for the travel-sized hairspray can, wonder if I have time to go to the loo again because my stomach is churning… I’m on a seemingly unbreakable loop of activity. Any minute now I could be facing a killer as they realise a trap has been sprung.
I jiggle in place, psyched up for anything, trying not to think of the million ways that this could all go horribly wrong for me. I’ve made Carrie promise to stay outside, no matter what happens.
I could end up in hospital. I could end up dead. Carrie could get dragged back to a life of terror and servitude.
Or it could work, I remind myself. Stranger things have happened.
It’s 8.30 p.m., and I’ve been living on my nerves ever since Carrie hammered on my door. Both of us have been paranoid that Andy will turn up early. I swear time has slowed. Each time I check the clock, only a few seconds have gone by. It doesn’t seem possible.
That sandwich from earlier was a mistake. I feel sick.
8.55 p.m.
Any minute now. My heart feels like it’s going to explode.
8.58 p.m.
Cold-sweat hands. Clenching and unclenching.
9.01 p.m.
He’s late; why would he be late? Has he realised it’s a trap and taken Carrie, while I stand like an idiot in my bedroom, waiting? Trying not to disturb the curtain, I look out of the window again. There, hidden behind a tree, I can just make out Carrie peeking round the trunk.
She’s safe.
10.15 p.m.
I’m exhausted from being constantly keyed up. Any second I could be attacked. I just want it over and done with.
11.20 p.m.
The click of the front door; the shush of it opening over carpet. My fingers clench round the can of hairspray, ready to blast it into my attacker’s eyes. I step out of the bedroom, brace myself at the top of the stairs. And gasp.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I’m going crazy standing out there,’ replies Carrie. ‘I don’t think he’s coming. If he were he’d be here by now – he’s never late.’
‘Perhaps he’s just trying to catch you off guard. You know, lull you into a false sense of security, then come and get you.’
‘That doesn’t make sense. He thinks I’ve given in to him, so why would he delay the opportunity to gloat in person?’
Sitting down on the top step of the stairs, I send a shrug to my friend. ‘Sounds to me like he enjoys cat and mouse games.’
‘No, he likes to win. And he knows he’s won this.’
‘Unless… Okay, what if he’s watched us together and sensed something is going on? What if he’s actually realised that he’s not going to win this game, because you’re not alone any more? This is it, Carrie. You’re free!’
I jump up and run down the stairs and hug her. Her whole body is tense.
‘Alex, you’ve no idea what you’re up against,’ she says at last. ‘You’re talking about a man who has spent the last five years making it his single aim in life to hurt me. Think of all the time he’s spent hunting me.
‘Last time he found me he strangled my best friend right in front of me, just to prove what would happen if I didn’t do as I was told. That’s not someone who quits because two women have come up with a half-cocked plot to get him arrested.’
She looks over her shoulder.
‘He’s out there somewhere, waiting for me. He’s just proving that when he does finally get me it will be on his terms, not mine.’
I can guess what’s coming next. Grab her hand, scared to let go, a symphony of sorrow making my body thrum.
‘Unless we keep facing whatever’s coming together! I’m here for you, no matter what.’
Her only reply is a squeeze of my hand.
‘Carrie, please, don’t leave.’ My other hand wipes furiously across my cheeks, trying to keep up with the flow of tears.
‘You’ve been so brave, Alex. You are amazing, and I’ll never forget what you’ve tried to do for me. I’d rather die than let anything happen to you. Waiting under that tree, imagining what the hell was going on in here, that was worse than the worst beating Andy has ever
given me, and harder than all the sickest mind games he’s ever played. All I could think of was Joanne’s face as her life ebbed away – and then imagining you in her place.’
She shook her hand free of mine. Stepped away.
‘I’m leaving, Alex. There’s nothing you can say to change my mind.’
The world has narrowed to just Carrie and me. I am a liar, an aberration, an unfit mother who must do whatever is necessary. There’s only one option left to me. I have to let go of this woman I have loved like a daughter. I mustn’t waste any further time arguing, like I did when the twins were born.
Calm enfolds me.
‘Andy clearly has some kind of twisted game in mind that he wants to play with you, and we’re helpless to end it because we don’t know the rules. So, do you have all your clothes packed, and did you bring them here with you?’ I ask.
‘Everything I own is in those two bags and that suitcase, back at mine. I’ve got about forty pounds in my purse, which is enough for a night at a homeless shelter.’
‘Then you’re ready to go. But you’ve only got around forty pounds?’
‘Maybe I can pick up some more cash by begging. I’ve slept rough before. I’ll be fine.’
‘You know I can’t let you go without money. All the donated funds for your bucket list are sitting in an account in my name. First thing tomorrow I’ll empty that account and give you the cash.’
Carrie raises her eyebrows. ‘That’s, erm, that’s a really sweet idea, but I couldn’t possibly take it. People gave that money for someone who is genuinely in need.’
Once again, I’m struck by how good she is.
‘You are genuinely in need. Your lies were committed in extremis. All you ever wanted was to feel the love and support of friendship, right?’ I point out. ‘Everyone who donated money is a good person. If I were to get in touch with them right now and tell them everything you’ve told me, there’s no doubt in my heart that they would still want you to have the money.
‘Like me, they might not approve of what you did, but they’d understand why you did it. At the end of the day, Carrie, they gave money to a woman whose life is about to end – and if you don’t take this money, that’s exactly what will happen.’
Fingers wrenching short, cropped hair. She’s in an agony of indecision. ‘I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem right.’ A pause. A sigh. ‘You know what? I know this is going to sound strange, but if there were more money, then I’d say yes. As it is, though, I think the donations should be refunded to everybody after I’m gone, because it just isn’t enough to make it worth taking.
‘It’s not that I’m being ungrateful – I really, really am blown away by everyone’s generosity – but although twenty thousand is a lot, it’s not enough to start a whole new life away from Andy. I don’t know how much would be, but tons more, that’s for sure. I’d have to go abroad, probably, to be sure of escaping him for ever.’
Her logic tries to tear a hole in my swelling conviction. She’s right: £20,000 is a lot, but it’s not life-changing. I’ve already got the answer to all her problems, though.
‘Take my money, too.’
She laughs. ‘Take all the millions you’ve made from dressmaking?’
‘Kind of, yeah. You know everything I told you about Owen? How he was killed while crossing train lines at an unmanned pedestrian crossing? It took years for Network Rail to be held accountable for what happened. Eventually I received compensation, as well as Owen’s life insurance. So I’m comfortable financially, and don’t need to make dresses, apart from to keep me occupied. I’d give back every single penny and then some if I could get my family back. You’re like family now, so you have it.’
Her mouth moves but no sound comes out, so I speak for her.
‘How far do you think you could go on one million?’
Forty-Six
Carrie is choking. A strangled noise crowbars its way out through tight-closed lips. One, two, three, I slap her on her back, but she shakes me loose and steps back. The noise comes again, and this time I recognise it as a cross between a cough and a laugh.
‘Now probably isn’t the best time to joke,’ she manages.
‘I can log on to my bank account right now and show you the balance. With interest, it’s over a million now. The compensation was generous—’
‘You’re not kidding… ?’
‘Three years before Owen was killed, a safety report had been undertaken about that crossing. The findings raised serious concerns about having an unlocked wicket gate for pedestrians beside a lockable crossing for vehicles.’ If she asked, I could quote the damn thing almost word for word. ‘The report strongly recommended that a locking mechanism be fitted, in addition to creating a footbridge.
‘Those recommendations weren’t acted on. If they had been, Owen would be alive today. So, possibly, would Elise and Edward, because I might never have miscarried. That’s why I received such a large compensation payment.’
She’s almost hyperventilating. Leading her into the kitchen, I make a cup of strong, sweet tea. I blow across my own mug to cool the steaming liquid, then pick up the tale.
‘I didn’t want all that cash, but I got it anyway. Spending it feels wrong – I can’t enjoy it, it’s blood money. It’s just sitting in the bank, forgotten. It would be great if it could do some good. Real good. Don’t you agree?’
The ticking of the clock is the only sound. Darkness outside has shrouded the streets in silence. While neighbours slumber peacefully, Carrie struggles with the shock that has robbed her of words.
‘A new identity, a new life. Andy would never find me. I’d be free.’ A breath of words. Her expression coalesces into something different. ‘Come with me.’
A fresh start, with all our troubles left behind. What could possibly go wrong?
A Pandora’s box of possibilities has opened up. I can almost feel them swirling around me, sweeping me along. First, though, we’ve got to get through tonight.
We lock and bolt all the doors and windows against the possibility of Andy coming, double- and triple-checking them. I log on to my online banking account and message them to let my branch know I’ll be going in tomorrow. Then Carrie and I agree to sleep in shifts.
Of course, neither of us can. Trepidation and excitement has adrenaline jangling through us, despite our exhaustion. We talk all through the night.
‘Do you really think we should do this?’ I check, suddenly doubting and needing to be certain.
‘Life rarely comes knocking on someone’s door. You have to step outside and grab it by the collar as it whizzes by. Where do you think we should live?’
‘Well, we’ve got the whole world to choose from,’ I say, pulling my duvet closer under my chin. ‘We could live in the middle of nowhere. A really remote place, where Andy could never find us.’
‘Better to be in a city – it’s easier to be anonymous when you’re surrounded by lots of people. When you live in a small community everybody knows everyone else.’
Hail rattles against the windows, inspiring me. ‘How about Spain? Nice to be somewhere hot.’
‘Wherever we go we need to be surrounded by CCTV. We’ll want to feel safe.’
‘Ooh, Australia! That way we don’t even need to learn a new language.’
‘Even better, America. No new language to learn, we can still choose a warm part of the country, say California, and we could live in a gated community—’
‘Sometimes they have their own private security guards over there, driving around, I’ve seen them on programmes—’
‘Exactly! And we can have guns.’
‘I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable carrying a gun.’
‘Then I’d learn to shoot for the both of us.’
Wow, Carrie is hardcore when given the chance. The happy-go-lucky woman I know has disappeared momentarily, cloaked by a veneer of steel that’s unexpected.
‘You don’t go up against a nutter like Andy for years without harde
ning,’ she says, seeming to catch my expression.
I turn over, on a Mission Impossible to find a soft spot on the floor. Give up and turn back again. Carrie gives me a gentle shove with her foot. ‘Sure you don’t want the sofa?’
‘No, you have it. I’m supposed to be staying awake anyway, remember.’
‘I don’t mind taking this shift.’
But I won’t hear of it. There’s no way sleep can be risked.
Outside, a fox barks. Carrie and I sit up, on high alert. A heartbeat, then we ease back again. I’ll be glad when tonight is over.
‘What will you do with your new-found freedom?’ I ask, keen to keep the conversation going and stop my mind numbing with fear.
‘Not sure. I’d love to study acting – did I ever tell you as a child I got a bit part in Casualty? Anyway, no matter where I am, I can’t risk that, for obvious reasons. It’s been years since I’ve allowed myself to dream of a life that consists of anything other than scraping by on crappy cash-in-hand, unskilled jobs – and that’s when I’m lucky. So often I’ve had to rely on other people’s charity… ’ A sad chuckle. ‘That’s what I’m about to do again now, though, isn’t it? Live on your charity.’
‘It’s totally different. I’m coming with you, for starters. Come on, Carrie, do you think I’d be making any of these plans if it weren’t for you? Without you I’d still be starving myself to death, punishing myself for the loss of my family. My life has changed because of you.’
‘Huh, well, I seem to have something in my eye now.’
Now it’s my turn to give her a playful kick. ‘Soppy bugger.’
The achromatic hues of night slowly blush into dawn. We’ve lived to see another day.
‘Right, let’s go over today’s plan one more time. First, I empty the bucket list account, so that we can use the cash—’
The Perfect Friend: A gripping psychological thriller Page 21