The Best Friend: a chilling psychological thriller

by Shalini Boland

  ‘She’s so glamorous, though.’ I drag my fingers through salt-encrusted hair.

  ‘Yeah, but you’re a natural beauty.’ He winks, and my heart swoops. My husband still has the ability to make me blush. Sod it. Who cares if my clothes are creased and my makeup has melted. Like Jared says – it’s just a barbeque.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, Jared and Mike are out on the decking, firing up the state-of-the-art gas grill. Tyler and Joe are on the kitchen sofas, heads together, glued to Tyler’s iPad. The house is immaculate but there’s no sign of the maid this evening. Darcy’s taking some thinly sliced steaks and salmon out of the fridge.

  ‘Surf ‘n’ turf,’ she says. ‘I’ll make us up a salad, too.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ I say. ‘Can I do anything to help?’

  ‘No, sit, keep me company,’ she says, pointing to a bar stool by the vast black-granite island.

  I plonk myself down with my glass of ice-cold beer and watch as she pulls out tub after tub of freshly-prepared salads from the American-style fridge – pasta salad, wild rice salad, green salads and more. She lifts down several glass bowls from a cupboard and spoons out the contents of the tubs. The salads must have all been prepared that day, and I’ll bet it wasn’t Darcy who made them. Not that I’m criticising. If I had the money, I’d love to have my fridge stocked with delicious, healthy food.

  I sip my beer and enjoy the buzz. I’m glad we came. This is the perfect end to a lovely day. ‘It’s so nice of you to invite us over this evening,’ I say.

  ‘Psht.’ Darcy waves away my comment with a smile. ‘I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be great friends. And look,’ – she points outside at Jared and Mike who are chatting away like they’ve known each other forever – ‘our husbands are getting on like a house on fire, and our sons are in heaven.’

  ‘I can’t believe Joe has found such a good friend already,’ I say.

  ‘He’s a lovely boy,’ Darcy says. ‘We had great fun during the sleepover the other night. I’ll just take the steaks outside to Mike.’ She picks up the platter. I stand and take it off her.

  ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she says with a warm smile.

  I walk out onto the deck, enjoying the glow of the sinking sun on my face and arms. They stop talking and turn to me. Mike’s wearing a navy striped apron, and he smiles as I hand him the heaped platter of meat and fish.

  ‘Thanks, Louisa. I think the barby should be hot enough now.’

  ‘Mike’s been telling me about the office buildings he’s developing in Poole,’ Jared says.

  ‘Not talking business are you, boys?’ Darcy brings out the covered salads and places them on the table.

  ‘Just making conversation,’ Mike says. ‘Jared’s in advertising. Maybe he could help us with our latest project?’

  ‘Sounds good,’ Darcy replies.

  ‘I’m actually thinking about setting up my own agency,’ Jared says.

  My relaxed mood disappears at his words. He shouldn’t be talking about this to other people. Not until we’ve discussed it properly between us.

  ‘It’s still just an idea,’ I say. ‘Nothing definite.’

  Darcy nips back inside and returns with our drinks. I take my beer from her gratefully and gulp down the chilled alcohol. A sudden gust of wind lifts a pile of napkins from the table, scattering them across the deck. I bend down to gather them up.

  ‘You can recommend Jared to some of your clients,’ Darcy says to Mike. ‘Mike knows everyone who’s anyone. If you’re setting up a new business, Mike can open a lot of doors.’

  I dump the napkins back on the table and watch in dismay as my husband’s eyes come alive with the numerous possibilities opening up before him. This is just the green light he needs to go steaming ahead with his plan.

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Mike says, picking up the tongs and transferring the steaks onto the grill. ‘I can think of at least a dozen companies who aren’t happy with their current ad campaigns.’ He turns to Jared. ‘Question is – are you any good?’ He smiles at my husband but there’s an edge to it. He’s assessing Jared, waiting for his answer.

  I wonder how serious Darcy and Mike are about actually putting Jared in touch with potential clients. Maybe they genuinely do want to help, or perhaps they’re simply making conversation. I guess Darcy’s words could sound like bragging, but I’m betting they really do know the right people. Maybe their contacts could give us the security we need.

  Jared reels off a list of accounts he’s successfully pitched for – all prestigious household names. He tells Mike about the awards he’s won, and about the calibre of people who’ll be working for him.

  Mike nods, his mouth quirking upwards. Won over by my husband’s enthusiasm and credentials, he claps Jared on the back. ‘We’ll have a meeting. Call me next week.’

  Thankfully, no more business is discussed, and we spend the rest of the evening enjoying the perfect food and the perfect sunset. Joe is excitable and funny. Jared is witty and charming. And I am quiet. Happy that my boys are happy, yet unable to quell the bubbling anxiousness in my stomach. Hoping I’ll feel calmer by morning.

  Chapter Five

  Winter 1988

  Staring at the gross hairs stuck in the carpet took her mind off her sore head. Nicole was sure other carpets didn’t look like this. Well, not the ones at school anyway. When they had reading time with Mrs Molesy, they all sat on the blue classroom carpet. It smelled warm and kind of burnt, but it was clean. Not like at home. The carpet at home never got cleaned. It was sticky and smelled of beer and wee.

  As she gazed down at the tangled-hair carpet in her and Callum’s bedroom, she tried not to wince or cry out. That only made Mummy angry. The hairbrush had caught a knot, and as Mummy yanked the hairbrush down, a bolt of pain flashed across Nicole’s scalp with such intensity, she couldn’t help gasping.

  ‘If you kept still, it wouldn’t hurt, you silly cow.’ Mummy tugged the brush through again. The knot had thinned but it was still enough to send splinters of pain firing across Nicole’s head.

  Once, Nicole had suggested that she might now be old enough to brush her own hair. That had earned her a hard slap across the face. Mummy had said she was a selfish bitch. That it was the one thing she liked to do – to brush her daughter’s hair. Then, Mummy had grabbed Nicole by her hair, dragged her across the room and shoved her hard against the wall. Nicole had kept her mouth shut after that. She could put up with a bit of hair brushing if it kept Mummy happy.

  A cry from the lounge made Nicole’s stomach fall away. It was Callum. He still didn’t understand about Mummy, about how important it was not to cry or make a fuss.

  ‘What the fuck does that little shit want now?’ The hairbrush stilled.

  ‘Want me to go and see?’ Nicole asked, a tremor in her voice.

  Mummy gave a last vicious yank of the brush and then threw it on the floor. ‘Go on, then. Piss off. You can both go out. I’ve had enough of you two today. You do my fuckin’ head in. I don’t know why I bother. Your hair still looks like a bog brush. You must get it from your useless twat of a dad. His mum had shitty hair, too.’

  Nicole kept her eyes down, slid off the bed and crept into the lounge. Callum was sitting on the floor crying and stabbing at the buttons of the remote control. He’d somehow accidentally switched channels and couldn’t get his programme back.

  ‘You made her cross, Cal, you stupid idiot,’ she hissed. ‘We have to go out in the car now.’

  ‘Goin’ in the car, Nic?’ Callum’s tear-streaked face brightened.

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered, a scowl tugging down the corners of her mouth. ‘You made Mummy angry again. It’s your fault.’

  Nicole grabbed his pudgy hand and dragged him over to the sliding doors which opened out onto a tiny balcony overlooking the main road. Only six of the flats had balconies. There was just enough room for a folding chair and also for Callum’s big plastic ride-in car that Daddy had brought home o
ne day last year. He’d got it from the dump where someone had chucked it out. The yellow and red plastic was a bit faded. Apart from that it was okay. It stayed out on the balcony. It would’ve been great if he could pedal it around on the grass, but they weren’t allowed. Mummy said she wasn’t about to go lugging it down three flights of frigging stairs. It didn’t matter. It was somewhere for them to go when Mummy got shouty.

  Callum climbed into the driver’s seat and took hold of the plastic steering wheel. Nicole closed the sliding doors to the lounge and squeezed herself into the passenger side of the car. The seat was wet and she felt the water seep through her dress, onto the backs of her legs. She was getting so tall now, she had to sit stooped over. Her sixth birthday was coming up, she hoped that didn’t mean she was going to grow even taller. What would she do when she couldn’t fit in the car anymore?

  ‘Where we goin’ today, Nic?’

  ‘Going to Disney World, stupid.’

  ‘Yeah! Dinsley Wowuld!’

  Nicole scowled, and glanced back into the lounge where her mother had plonked herself on the sofa, beer in one hand, remote in the other. It was cold outside and she wished she’d remembered to bring a jumper. Never mind, at least Mummy had forgotten about brushing her hair.

  Chapter Six

  2016

  I wish I’d taken the car to pick Joe up from school today, but the storm wasn’t forecast, and neither was Joe’s disappointment. Finally, we burst in through the front door, soaking wet from the rainstorm, with Joe still in tears. The hallway is as gloomy as our moods, and so I flip on the light switch, illuminating my son’s tear-streaked face.

  Joe and Tyler got into an argument at school earlier today and everyone took Tyler’s side. Poor Joe had kept his emotions in check all day, determined not to cry, but as soon as we left the school gates, the whole story came flooding out. In between gulping sobs, he told me what happened. He got to school this morning and excitedly handed out his party invitations, but it turns out Tyler’s birthday is on the same day, and Tyler said that everyone would be going to his party, not Joe’s.

  ‘Let’s go upstairs and get changed,’ I say, kissing my son’s wet cheek. ‘We’ll get into nice, dry clothes and I’ll make you something to eat, okay?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Joe sobs. He flings his coat on the floor, kicks off his shoes and stomps upstairs. I go to follow him, then change my mind. No. I’ll give him a few minutes alone to calm down. He’s had a terrible disappointment and a difficult day. I need to try to make this right. I need to call Darcy.

  I shrug off my sodden coat and hang it on the wooden coat stand. My clothes are soaked through, but I’ll sort this out before I get changed. I take my phone out of my bag and wince as Joe’s bedroom door slams shut. I’m about to bring up Darcy’s contact details when I see I have three missed calls – all from Darcy. Good. She obviously wants to sort this out, too. I walk through to the kitchen and return her call. She answers straight away.

  ‘Louisa? Tyler’s come home in tears,’ she says.

  ‘Joe, too.’ I switch on the kitchen light and sit down at the table, sliding a pile of bills away across its crumb-strewn surface.

  ‘Can you believe our boys’ birthdays are on the same day?’ she says.

  ‘I know. What are we going to do?’ I push my dripping wet hair back off my face and rest my chin in my hand.

  ‘Joint party?’ she suggests.

  ‘Genius.’ I breathe a sigh of relief. ‘We’re having a football party at the park, followed by pizza. I can print out new invitations and add Tyler’s name. Joe can―’

  ‘Hmm,’ Darcy interrupts. ‘Sounds cute, but we’ve already booked out Bournemouth Football Ground. The boys are going to have some coaching, play a game, then have a tour of the grounds and meet the players. I can’t really cancel it now.’

  ‘Oh . . . okay. Um―’

  ‘Would you mind if Joe joined in with Tyler’s party instead?’ she asks.

  ‘Oh. Well, yes. I mean, that would be great.’ I’m a little taken aback. I’d already arranged everything for Joe but I suppose it makes sense if she’s already booked such a big event. ‘How do you want to do it? We can split the costs and―’

  ‘No, no,’ she says. ‘It’s all paid for. We don’t need to split it.’

  ‘I couldn’t . . .’ I can’t let Darcy and Mike pay for my son’s birthday party. It doesn’t seem right. ‘I’d have to contribute something.’

  ‘Please,’ Darcy says. ‘You’d be doing us a huge favour. We obviously can’t have separate parties as they both have the same friends. But I’d hate to cancel Tyler’s football stadium tour. He’s really looking forward to it. Joe would love it, too, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Of course, but―’

  ‘So that settles it,’ she says.

  ‘Well, at least let me do the birthday cake and party bags,’ I say.

  ‘The party bags are done,’ she says. ‘Why don’t we bring our own cakes – that way, they each get Happy Birthday sung to them by their friends.’

  I can see what she’s saying makes total sense, and yet for her to organise the whole thing . . . it makes me worry that I’m taking advantage. Or – even worse – like I’m a charity case.

  ‘Well,’ I say, unsure how else to solve the issue, ‘if you’re absolutely sure . . .’

  ‘Awesome.’

  ‘So, what about the invitations?’ I say. ‘Shall I print some out with both their names?’

  ‘No, that’s fine. They’re already with the printer. I’ll give him a call and get him to add Joe’s name. Tyler will bring them in later this week and the boys can hand them out together.’

  ‘Okay, great,’ I say, relaxing my shoulders. ‘I hope Tyler’s okay now. Hopefully, they’ll make up tomorrow. I better go upstairs and check on Joe. Tell him about the new plans. I’m sure this will cheer him up.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Darcy says. ‘Oh, and also, would you and Jared like to come out for dinner with us on Thursday night? We have reservations for Shore View. The table’s for two, but we know the manager – he’ll squeeze in two more for us. Mike has taken a shine to your hubby and wants to talk business.’

  I know for a fact that Shore View is booked up until sometime next year. The prices are extortionate, but Jared would be thrilled at the opportunity to eat there. We can pick something from the menu that’s not too expensive. ‘That would be wonderful,’ I say. ‘What time?’

  ‘Table’s booked for eight. We could meet there for drinks first, around seven.’

  ‘Let me just see if I can arrange a babysitter, and―’

  ‘Joe can stay at ours,’ Darcy says. ‘Drop him round beforehand. Marianna’s staying on to babysit.’

  ‘That’s okay. I’m sure we can find a―’

  ‘Honestly, it’s not a problem. He can stay over and then you don’t need to worry about it.’

  I don’t want to say yes, but I can’t think of any excuse to give. ‘Okay, well if you’re sure . . .’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Tyler will have to come to ours next time,’ I offer lamely.

  ‘Great, he’d love to.’

  We haven’t even known them a week, and they’re showering us with friendship and favours. I decide to organise a sitter anyway. I can unmake plans with Darcy for Joe to stay over. I can’t take advantage of her hospitality again.

  Chapter Seven

  We park across the road from the restaurant and I wait by the car as Jared heads over to the machine to get a ticket. There’s a lull in the rain, thank goodness, but a breeze is gusting off the ocean. I pull my jacket closer around me as my silk dress ripples across my body in deep green waves. Guilt pricks at me, at the extravagance and expense of my new outfit. Jared told me I should buy something new to wear and I have to admit it’s nice to feel glamorous for once. My shopping spree was worth it for the confidence boost. I promise myself that after tonight, I’ll be frugal for the rest of the year.

  Jared returns and sticks
the ticket on the inside of the car windscreen. I take his arm and totter beside him, unsteady in towering silver heels that give me the height I’ve always craved. In the end, we couldn’t manage to get a babysitter so I dropped Joe at Darcy and Mike’s earlier, giving the boys a few hours to play before bed.

  ‘That dress really suits you,’ Jared says. ‘You look good, Louisa.’

  ‘Thanks. You too.’ I smile up at him and he dips his head to kiss me. The scent of his aftershave making me catch my breath. He grins and quickens his pace. I can’t keep up in such impractical footwear.

  ‘Slow down!’ I cry. ‘These shoes . . .’

  ‘Shall I carry you?’ He bends as if to scoop me up, and I hit him with my handbag, laughing at his childish behaviour.

  We dodge the lingering puddles and come to an undignified stop at the restaurant. It’s one of those places with staff on the door. They nod as we go in, ignoring our stifled laughter. We tell the greeter that we’re meeting the Lanes and her snooty expression shifts into a smile.

  ‘Follow me, please.’

  We do as she says, and she leads us to the bar where Darcy and Mike are seated on stools, chatting to a man in a dark suit.

  ‘This is the guy I was telling you about,’ Mike says to the man. Then he turns to us and smiles. ‘Louisa, Jared, good to see you again.’

  Darcy and Mike get to their feet. Darcy stunning in a pale blue lace dress, her hair piled into an artfully created up-do. We say hello in a flurry of perfumed, alcoholic kisses and handshakes.

  ‘This is Saul Parnell,’ Mike says, introducing the man in the suit. ‘He owns Shore View plus several other restaurants along the south coast. I’ve been talking to him about you, Jared.’

  ‘Good to meet you,’ Jared says. ‘Your place looks amazing. That view . . .’

  We all turn to gaze at the harbour view, the boats illuminated by the restaurant deck lighting, the distant on-shore lights twinkling in the darkness, the moon casting a silvery wash over the water.