by Elle Croft
‘No, I can’t make it today. Look, Constable Clayton. I already told you, my Facebook account was hacked. I’ve now reported the breach to Facebook and changed the password, along with the passwords to my other social media accounts. I don’t know what else to tell you.’
‘You could start by telling me what you were really doing on the night Mr Bradley was murdered.’
‘I already have told you that.’
‘Yes, you’ve said that you were in your office. But you see, I’m just finding it highly convenient that you were in your office where no one could verify your whereabouts. And incredibly coincidental that a woman who matches your height and build showed up on the CCTV footage, which then ended up as your Facebook profile picture.’
‘There’s nothing convenient about it, I promise you.’
‘That may be so, Mrs Reston, but I’m sure you can see how I’m finding you suspicious.’
All of the warmth had leached from her tone. It wasn’t a question, so I stayed quiet.
‘You’re not obliged to come in to be interviewed, but we strongly recommend that you do, so you have an opportunity to tell your side of the story. In any case, we’ll be continuing our investigation, and if we find evidence that suggests you’ve committed an offence, the next step will be to arrest and charge you. I believe you’re involved in this murder somehow, so I advise you to tell us anything you know that could be pertinent to the case.’
My throat was too tight to reply, so I just hung up.
This was serious.
The police knew that I was involved. It wasn’t difficult to come to that conclusion, I suppose, when I had no real alibi. The list of women who had been working closely with Calum wasn’t extensive. And it was even smaller when you narrowed it down to those who had my height and build. I presumed the others had a more convincing alibi than mine. But I didn’t do it.
Whoever did, though, had enough information on me to make it look like I was guilty.
And they’d made sure I was too scared to tell my side of the story.
I swallowed the lump that was lodged in my throat. I couldn’t just wait for them to strike again. Pulling a notepad out of my handbag, I found the address I’d written next to Mark’s after making my payment to the questionable website, and typed it into my phone.
An hour later, I was standing outside a small, depressing row of terraced houses in north London. The grey skies only added to the feeling of oppression that was radiating from the cramped homes. Not even the smallest hint of colour adorned their façades. They were decorated instead with touches of ruin; a large crack here, a broken fence there.
By the time she rounded the corner I’d almost given up. It was a long shot, anyway. She could be away, she could be inside her house all day … she might not even live here any more. I was surprised that Mark’s address had been correct. I hadn’t been expecting this one to be accurate, too.
But here she was, unmistakable, walking home with a coffee cup in her hand. Perfect.
I crossed the road and quickly walked towards her, keeping my head down and my eyes fixed on the screen of my phone.
The collision was timed precisely.
‘Ow!’
‘Oh my God,’ I said to the coffee-soaked woman in front of me. ‘I’m so sorry, that was completely my fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.’
‘Oh,’ she said, still looking at the mess I’d created on her white top. ‘Well, I suppose I wasn’t paying attention either.’
She looked as though she might burst into tears.
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Let me at least buy you a fresh coffee.’
‘That’s really not nec—’
‘I really do insist,’ I said. ‘I feel awful, and it was absolutely my fault. Please.’
She looked at me with suspicion, and I held her gaze.
‘The coffee shop’s a few minutes’ walk …’
‘I was going there anyway.’
She laughed then, suddenly and briefly.
‘Well, I could do with the caffeine,’ she said, and I smiled in response.
‘I’m Bethany,’ I said, offering her my hand.
‘Kitty.’
Chapter Twenty-seven
As I ordered our two coffees, I tried not to stare at the woman sitting on the stool facing the window.
Her surgeries had made a remarkable difference, but they hadn’t restored her former beauty. Gone were the misshapen cheekbones and missing pieces of flesh I’d seen in the article I’d read from just after the attack. But the shiny, tight, ridged skin remained.
Her hair, which used to be voluminous and bouncy, was lank and unbrushed. Her once-white top, now stained with latte, was a few sizes too big, her jeans loose and nondescript. She didn’t look like a woman who had clawed her way back from a horrific attack and emerged victorious. She looked like she’d given up.
I put her latte in front of her and sat down.
‘Well, thanks so much for getting me a new coffee,’ she said, standing up.
‘You’re going?’
‘I … yeah, I mean, I thought …’
‘Want to join me?’
‘I don’t know …’
She was meek. Nervous.
‘I promise to hold on tightly to my coffee, and I’ll be very careful not to bump into you,’ I said, hoping I didn’t come across as too desperate.
‘Only if I’m not intruding.’ Her voice was so quiet I had to strain to hear her.
‘Of course not. Please.’ I waved at the seat she’d just vacated, and she perched on the edge of it, as though she was ready to bolt at any moment.
‘So – Kitty, was it? – do you live around here?’
She nodded.
‘I’m thinking of buying a place just around the corner,’ I said. ‘Prices in this area are pretty reasonable. Well, relatively, I suppose.’
She laughed, her shoulders relaxing.
‘I’m not surprised by that. It’s not exactly hot property.’
‘You’re not a fan?’
‘No. I hate it. I’m not living here by choice, believe me. But … well, stuff happened and moving back with my parents was my only real option.’
‘Bad break-up?’
She avoided looking at me.
‘Something like that.’
I needed to get onto the topic of Calum, but I didn’t want to spook her. She seemed jumpy and suspicious as it was. I needed to tread carefully.
‘So what do you do for work, Kitty?’
‘Oh, I … well, honestly, I’m between jobs at the moment.’
‘What kind of work are you looking for?’
‘I used to work in public relations. But I think I need a change of scenery …’
She trailed off, distracted by a group of women beside us. I looked over to see them whispering and stealing glances at our table every few seconds.
I shot them a dirty look that went unnoticed and tried to get Kitty’s attention again.
‘So what’s around here? Any good places to eat?’
‘Sorry, um …’
She didn’t even bother replying. She’d hunched over her coffee, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. It wasn’t working.
I heard the word Calum, followed by a succession of muffled giggles. Trying to catch a glimpse of Kitty’s face under her barrier of hair, I noticed her skin had gone a strange grey colour.
‘Don’t listen to them,’ I said, thinking with a shock how easily it could be me in her place.
She nodded, but kept looking down, her hands clenched hard around her coffee. I knew I should walk away, make an excuse and leave before I did anything that could attract attention. Getting involved would be downright stupid.
But I was angry. Angry at whoever did this to Kitty. Angry that Calum had been forced to live with the guilt of something he didn’t do. Angry that these ignorant women could be so cruel. And yes, angry because I was in the midst of a situation I’d done nothing to deserve. It was ball
ed up inside me, a wad of rage and self-pity so tightly bound that I couldn’t tell the two emotions apart.
I stood up and walked over to the women before Kitty could stop me. Before I could stop myself.
‘Excuse me. Is there something I can help you with?’
My aggressive tone didn’t go unnoticed. They looked at me, expressions frozen, eyes darting between me and Kitty.
‘No, really. I’m giving you the opportunity to say something to my face, because you seem to have an awful lot of opinions about me and my friend over there.’
The women looked around anxiously at one another. A red-head wearing bright purple yoga leggings spoke up tentatively.
‘We weren’t … I mean, we don’t want any trouble. We’re not interested in you, we were just talking. Just minding our own business.’
‘It didn’t look like you were minding your own business,’ I said, seething. ‘It looked exactly as if you were gossiping like a group of teenagers with nothing in their own lives worth talking about.’
It felt good to vent.
‘You must be pretty bloody insecure, a bunch of grown women, picking on someone different, just to make yourselves feel better—’
I didn’t have time to finish my tirade, because all heads suddenly turned towards the door. I spun around just in time to see Kitty sweeping out. Ignoring the murmurs rippling around the café, I hurried after her.
‘Kitty! Are you OK?’
Her head was down, and she kept walking, ignoring me.
‘Kitty.’
I caught up and grabbed her arm. She stopped, but wouldn’t look up at me. I could tell she was crying.
‘I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t have done that, but I was just so mad at those women. They shouldn’t have been talking about you like that.’
‘I’m used to it,’ she said quietly.
‘Well, you shouldn’t be. It’s awful. And it says more about them than it does you, so don’t let it get to you.’
‘Why did you stand up for me like that? You don’t even know me.’
‘I don’t have to know you to know that what they were doing was wrong.’
‘No one’s ever that nice to me,’ she said, and I felt a glimmer of compassion.
Her life had to be pretty miserable, if I was the nicest person in it. At least I had Alex, and Jason. People who cared about me. People who were there for me during an unbearable time, even if they didn’t have a clue what was actually happening.
‘Look, I’m really sorry about what you’re going through right now. And I know it can’t be easy when people look at you and whisper about you or whatever it is that they do. But for what it’s worth, I do know a little bit about how you feel.’
Her head snapped up, her eyes ablaze with anger.
‘No one knows how I feel.’
‘Really, Kitty. It’s complicated, but trust me. I understand, at least part of it.’
‘Who the hell are you?’
‘I – I’m Bethany. I told you.’
‘Are you a journalist?’
‘No! Kitty, I’m just—’
‘A cop?’
She spat her words out, all traces of meekness dissolved.
‘No, of course not.’
‘Well I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but I didn’t tell you anything about me and suddenly you know what I’m going through?’
‘No, it’s just—’
‘It’s just nothing. You’re no better than those bitches back there. Pretending to be nice, to have coffee with me? I don’t need your pity. What I need is for you to stay the hell away from me. All I’ve ever wanted is my privacy, and now you lot are coming at me from every direction again, trying to pin this on me, or wanting to dredge up the past. Don’t you think I’ve been through enough already?’
She was screaming and gesticulating. My cheeks burned as the pedestrians around us turned to watch the spectacle.
‘I’ve already told everyone, I didn’t do it, all right? Ask that detective chick. I have an alibi. Not that I should be explaining this to you, but what the hell, you want a statement? Here’s my statement: stay out of my life. Let me get on with my miserable existence in peace. The next time I see one of you lot anywhere near me, expect a lawsuit.’
And with that, she was gone. I didn’t chase her. I was too ashamed.
She was right. After everything she’d suffered, she didn’t deserve to be hounded, by the press, by the police, by me. But I’d needed to know.
As I walked away, my head turned to avoid the smug eyes of the women inside the window of the café, I realised that I probably could have asked Constable Clayton whether they’d looked into Kitty. She might not have told me anything, but it would have been a more dignified start than this.
I wondered how many other people I’d have to hurt in my quest to find the truth. My brief time with Kitty had made me feel a huge rush of gratitude for Jason, if for no other reason than simply for being by my side. I couldn’t always tell him everything, but he loved me. And he was always there for me. I wasn’t alone.
I dialled his number.
‘Let’s go out for dinner,’ I said. ‘I feel like we’ve barely spent any time together since we went away.’
‘I’m not in the mood, Bethany. Let’s just stay in.’
‘Please, Jason? I want to make it up to you for missing the pub quiz.’
He sighed, unconvinced.
‘And for being so difficult to be around lately,’ I added. ‘I know I’ve been a bit distant, but I really do appreciate how great you’ve been with everything. Please say yes.’
‘Fine, OK,’ he relented. ‘But can we have an early one? I’m exhausted. Work’s mental at the moment.’
‘No problem.’
I smiled with relief as Jason walked into the restaurant and kissed my cheek. He was still my anchor, the one solid thing I could cling to as this tornado whipped through my life, destroying everything around me.
After he sat down, I became aware of the silence stretching across the table between us. There had been no small talk, no chit-chat about our respective days. He was looking over my shoulder, so I followed his gaze. The restaurant was filled with couples as well as a group of lads in suits, their banter getting louder with each new beer. I couldn’t tell what was holding his attention.
‘Jason?’
No response.
‘Hey, Jason, is everything OK?’ I reached over and touched his hand lightly.
You’d think there was an electric current running through my fingers. He shot upright, eyes wide with shock, face pale.
‘Woah. It’s just me, it’s me, Jason. What’s wrong?’
He shook his head and looked down.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, angry.
‘Are you sure there—’
‘I said I’m fine,’ he snapped. ‘Let’s just order.’
I couldn’t indulge the feeling of hurt that settled over me. There was more at stake than my feelings. I was far more concerned with why my husband was suddenly giving me the cold shoulder. Did he know? The affair, my lies, my role as London’s most wanted … I mentally checked off all of my sins. It could be any one of them.
It could be all of them.
As we waited for our pasta in silence, Jason still refusing to meet my eye, I tried to anticipate his reaction. How did he find out? Would he leave me? And how long had he known? It occurred to me that I’d barely given him a moment’s attention since Calum’s death. Even on our weekend away I’d been so distracted that my husband had hardly been more than a mild annoyance; background noise.
I’d been so grateful that Jason had given me space, but had he actually been avoiding me? I sipped my wine and tried to recall the past few days. Jason had been something of a side note, really, a body in the room, making me feel safer than if I’d been alone.
Was I losing him? I looked at the man across from me and wondered if I had any right to be upset at that thought, given my affair.
/> Our food arrived, and the only sounds from our table as we ate were the scrapes of cutlery and the clink of a wine glass as it brushed a plate on the way up.
‘Jason,’ I said eventually, ending the silence, ‘is there something you want to talk to me about?’
He looked up then, his eyes finally meeting mine. He held my gaze and I tried to read him. Was that hurt in his eyes, or fear? Anger, or sadness? He looked pale, I noticed, those blue irises darker than usual, nestled in shadowy sockets.
‘Sorry, Bethany,’ he said, looking down at his plate again. ‘I didn’t realise I’d spaced out like that. I just have a lot on at work.’
He could have put some effort into the lie, at least.
‘What’s going on?’
He shook his head. Conversation over. I was beginning to regret my insistence on going out after all. This was almost more painful than being at home. At least there we could ignore each other in comfort.
I sighed, unspeakably tired, and looked up to tell Jason I was ready to go home. He was frowning, and staring at the glowing screen of his phone.
‘I’m so sorry, I have to take this call,’ he said, his face ghoulish in the unnatural blue light. ‘It’s the office. I’ll be right back.’
Great. I watched him walk away, phone pressed to the side of his head, and let my fork drop with a clatter. Sitting back in my chair, I sipped the wine and felt my head getting lighter and lighter. I squeezed my eyes closed.
‘I have to go,’ said Jason, returning from somewhere behind me. He seemed flustered, on edge, twitchy. ‘There’s a bit of an emergency at work. A data leak. We’ve all been called in to let our clients know what’s happening.’
‘Now?’
‘I know. I’m not happy about it either, but we have to get word out before the media does. If they get hold of this we’re in huge trouble.’
That sounded familiar.
‘I understand,’ I said, meaning it. ‘You go. I’ll see you at home later.’
And before I could say anything else, he’d turned and rushed out of the restaurant, leaving me alone, again, with a plate of lasagne I couldn’t bear to eat and the glass of wine I knew I’d need to face my empty house tonight.