by M K Farrar
BY THE TIME LIV HAD driven home, showered and changed, and left the flat again, she was already running late. She’d texted Michael to let him know and apologise, but when she didn’t hear anything back from him, anxiety buzzed at her nerve endings. What if he’d given up on her and left already, or was mad at her for being late?
She didn’t like feeling so worried about everything. She was worried about how she’d tell Ellen the news about the pregnancy, plus she didn’t want to upset Michael when things had been going so well. She was even still anxious about things going on at work—about Callie mentioning her drinking, and Tony turning up at her flat at the weekend. All the edges jarred her, leaving her unsettled and spiky.
She reached the restaurant flustered and certain he wouldn’t be there, but she spotted him at the bar as soon as she walked in, and he lifted his hand to her to make sure he’d been seen. The hostess approached, but she waved the other woman away, pointing to Michael by way of explanation.
She hurried through the people, apologising when she accidentally barged shoulders with someone, eager to reach him.
When she did, Michael pulled her in for a kiss. “There you are. I was missing you.”
The knot that had been winding itself tighter and tighter finally began to unravel. He wasn’t angry with her for being so late. “I’m sorry. Work stuff came up. I couldn’t get out of it.” She didn’t want to tell him about Ryan. It would look confrontational, and she didn’t want him to get that impression of her.
“Hey, no problem. I know it happens. You saw that for yourself when I had to bail on you at lunch the other week.”
She allowed herself to smile. “True. How did that situation end up?”
He frowned. “What situation?”
She raised her eyebrows. “The married work colleague and the secretary?”
“Oh, it’s fine. All blown over now.”
“That’s good news.”
The waitress arrived to take them to their table, and they wound their way through all the seated people until they arrived at the table Michael had reserved. She was still lightheaded and shaky from the conversation with Ryan, and she wasn’t sure she was even hungry, but she could definitely use a drink.
“What do you fancy?” he asked her, after they’d perused the menu.
She knew better by this point than to order something that involved red or processed meat. She didn’t mind anyway—her stomach probably wouldn’t have been able to handle anything heavy.
“I’ll have the crayfish ravioli and a dry white wine.”
“No, starter?” he enquired.
She forced a smile, and then patted her flat stomach. “I think I’ll save myself for dessert.”
He returned the smile. “That sounds like an excellent plan. I think I’ll join you.”
The waitress came to take their order, and Michael ordered for both of them. Within minutes, they were brought a bottle of ice cold white wine to go with the pasta, and Liv didn’t even care about tasting it. Michael poured her a glass, and she took several large gulps, both enjoying and needing the crisp, tart taste. She exhaled a sigh as the alcohol flooded through her veins, relaxing her.
Michael was watching with his eyebrows raised. “Tough day at work?”
She nodded, her face heating again as she realised how uncouth she’d been, drinking expensive wine like it was beer. “You could say that.”
“Not your creepy boss again, is it? Do I need to go in and have a word?”
She laughed, half mortified, and half entertained at the idea of Michael going into the office to warn Tony off. “No, no. Not at all. He’s been fine. It’s a friend of mine at work—the one I was with the night we met. She’s going through a rough breakup, and I kind of ended up dragged into it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She sighed. “Yeah, me, too. It’s sad. They were a really sweet couple, but it looks like he’s been cheating, so I’m not sure they’re ever going to come back from that.”
Michael pulled a face. “You know, I’d rather be talking about us than some other couple I don’t know.”
“Oh, right.” She gave her head a slight shake. She probably had been going on about it, and it wasn’t as though Michael even knew Ellen and Ryan. “Of course.”
He leaned in towards her, his forearms folded across the table. “I had a really great weekend, Liv.”
She smiled back. “So did I.”
Their food arrived. Her appetite had returned, and the pasta was delicious. The conversation flowed as though they were old friends, and Liv found herself relaxing and forgetting about all the dramas.
By the end of the meal, she was loved-up and light-headed on wine. Michael insisted on paying, though she offered to split it, but he refused. “You get the next round of drinks.”
“I can do that,” she said with a laugh, putting her purse away.
“Shall we go for that drink?” he asked.
She’d been hoping he’d invite her back to his place. She knew he lived some way out of town, but it would have been interesting to see his home. She wasn’t confident enough to say it, however, so she just shrugged. “Sure.”
They left the restaurant and stepped out onto the street. He took her hand, and they walked side by side. A smile tugged at her cheeks. This felt so good—so normal—and she didn’t want the evening to end.
“So, where do you want—”
A shout came from behind, cutting off her words.
“Sarah?”
The terrifyingly familiar voice sent her heart racing. Her cheeks flushed with heat, and she kept her head down refusing to look in the direction the voice had come from. Her grip on Michael’s hand tightened and her breath grew shallow.
“Sarah!”
The call came again, this time more urgent, and hollow footsteps pounded the pavement behind her. She quickened her pace, hoping Michael would fall into step beside her, but he must have noticed her pull on his hand.
He looked down at her, his dark eyebrows pulled together. “Everything okay, Livvy?”
“Yeah, I just ... err ... I can’t have that drink. I need to go home.”
She dropped his hand, planning to spin off in the other direction. If the voice belonged to the person she thought it did, she didn’t want Michael right beside her when the confrontation happened.
But she was too late.
“Sarah, would you wait the hell up?”
Her heart pounded so hard she felt dizzy, but she schooled her expression into one of confusion. Everything went into sharp contrast, the dark blobs on the pavement from years of chewing gum being spat out on the streets, the smell of heated rubbish on the air, the distant screech of a tube train pulling into a stop underground. She couldn’t ignore him any longer. He was starting to cause a scene.
She turned to face the man she’d hoped she’d never have to see again. “I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?”
His blond hair was shorter than when she’d last seen him, and he looked as though he put on a little weight, but otherwise he looked exactly the same as he had seven years ago.
He squinted at her, his nose wrinkled. “What are you talking about, Sarah? Of course I am.”
“I’m sorry. I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.”
He barked laughter. “Are you crazy? I know it’s been a while, but you can’t think I would forget you that easily.”
She shook her head. “Honestly, I believe you think you know whoever this Sarah is, but she must be my doppelganger or something, because that isn’t my name.”
He stared at her. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“You’re actually starting to frighten me now, and I will call the police if you don’t leave me alone.”
He laughed again, but it was a forced reaction out of confusion and uncertainty. “Call the police? I should be the one calling the police. And what did you do to your accent?”
She turned away. “I have to go.”
; He reached out and grabbed her arm, his fingers digging hard into her skin. “Don’t you fucking dare, Sarah. Not after everything you did.”
Michael stepped in. He must have seen something was wrong about this conversation. “What’s going on?”
The last thing she wanted was to have him involved. “Nothing, Michael. This man’s mistaken me for someone else, but he’s going now.”
The man from her past looked between them. Michael glared at him, challenging him to try something.
The other man pointed a finger. “You know her?”
Michael nodded. “Of course I do. She’s my girlfriend.”
“How long have you known her for?”
“Over five years now.”
Michael’s lie surprised her, and she tried not to let it show on her face. It made the other man falter. “Five years?”
“Yes, so you have the wrong person. I’m sorry.” His arm slipped around her waist, as he guided her away. “I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”
She was trembling, something she couldn’t help. The encounter had shaken her down to her core. She’d always thought of London as being the best place to lose herself, and had never thought she’d run into someone from her past. What was he doing here? Was he just visiting, or had he come down for work, or, God forbid, had he moved here now? She’d relied on the general consensus of people from up north thinking London was unfriendly and dangerous, and that they’d stay well away. The last thing she’d been expecting when getting up that morning had been for her past to come crashing right into her present.
Michael’s arm around her waist tightened. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, he was just getting aggressive, you know? You hear of all sorts of things these days—people being stabbed in the street. He frightened me.”
“Come on. Let’s get you something to calm you down.”
He steered her into a small bar. It was off the main street and was thankfully quiet. A coffee machine hissed. Music was playing, loud enough to be heard, but not so loud it would interrupt any conversations. A few other people sat around, all spaced conveniently apart from each other. Crazily, a memory from an old science lesson came back to her, about how atoms were like people on buses—they always take the furthest spot away from another person.
He ordered her a brandy and sat her down at a corner table. Every inch of her body wanted to run, but she knew doing so would look even more suspicious.
“Are you sure you didn’t know him?” Michael asked as he set the drink on the table in front of her.
She picked it up and took a large gulp. The alcohol burned a trail of fire down her throat and settled to warm her stomach. She was grateful for the distraction, and the shaking started to abate. “I’ve never seen him before in my life.”
“Really? He seemed so sure. He kept calling you Sarah.”
She shrugged and focused on her glass, swirling the amber liquid around. “Yeah, it was weird.” She forced herself to give a little laugh. “Maybe I have a twin out there somewhere.”
Fresh panic surged through her. What if the man from her past started telling people he’d seen her? Would anyone come looking for her? She imagined seeing posters hung up all over the city, ‘have you seen this woman’ with her face plastered all over it. There might be a social media campaign. She’d have to move again. She couldn’t handle that.
Or perhaps she was overreacting, and he’d go away and convince himself she’d just looked like Sarah. That he’d been wrong. He might forget all about it by the end of the day.
Fuck, she needed another drink.
Michael leaned forward and touched the back of her hand. “Well, you never talk about your family, Livvy. I’ve never met any of them.”
“I’ve never met any of yours either,” she shot back. “I didn’t think we were quite at that point in our relationship yet.” She didn’t like where this was going.
“I know, but maybe we should start opening ourselves up a little. Meeting each other’s friends, perhaps? I know you have some—you were out with a few of them the night I met you.”
Unlike you, she thought. You were alone.
But friends she could do. Friends she could handle. And if it meant it took his attention away from what had just happened, then she’d hand him her friends on a platter, if she had to.
She smiled, though the expression felt strained. “Of course. I’d love you to meet my friends. And they’re really curious about you, too.”
He sat up taller and his eyebrows lifted expectantly. “You’ve told them about me?”
“Well, they saw me leaving with you on the night we met, so you weren’t exactly a secret. Plus, they’re all saying they never see me anymore.”
He grinned, revealing straight, white teeth. “I can’t have them thinking I’m monopolising you. We’ll have to arrange an evening so I can meet everyone.”
She was relieved they’d moved away from the topic of the man on the street who’d called her Sarah. “That would be lovely. They’d all love to meet you.”
It was only later, as she lay in bed alone, that she realised he’d never mentioned his own family, or meeting any of his friends.
Chapter Seventeen
Two Weeks Earlier
BEING ACCOSTED IN THE street had left Olivia shaken.
The weekend was approaching, but she didn’t want to spend any time out in central London, terrified she’d be spotted again. Instead, she went into work, and then came straight home, keeping her head down and praying no one called out that name again.
At least Ellen had been in brighter spirits at work. Liv hadn’t told her about the pregnancy, and the longer she stayed quiet, the harder it was to bring herself to say something. She hoped Ryan would take the deed out of her hands. She hated to think of Ellen bumping into Ryan and the new woman, Sierra, and glancing down to see a large bump that had clearly been conceived when they’d been together. Ellen would rather hear it from her friend than find out like that, but still Liv couldn’t bring herself to say anything.
It had been a long day, and, even though it was Friday evening, all she wanted to do was crash on the sofa with a microwave meal and a glass of wine. She picked up the remote control for the television and flicked through the channels, finally deciding on the evening’s news.
Tammy was curled in the easy chair on the other side of the room, her laptop balanced on her thighs, scrolling through social media while she ate an entire packet of Wispa bite-sized. Liv didn’t think either of them were exactly an advert for a balanced diet that evening. Her flatmate would be going out clubbing later, but none of the clubs even got started until midnight, so Tammy was just chilling out before starting yet another weekend of partying.
A headshot of a familiar face appeared on screen, and Liv almost knocked over her wine.
“Oh, my God.”
Her tone got Tammy’s attention. “What’s the matter?”
She pointed at the television. “It’s the girl. The one who—” Liv caught herself. She’d almost said, ‘who Michael had been arguing with.’ “The one who went missing,” she said instead. “Looks like they found her body.”
“Oh, how sad. Do they know what happened to her?”
Liv squinted slightly as she read the banner at the bottom of the screen. “Suspected suicide, by the looks of it. They found her body at the bottom of a cliff near Dover.” Her pulse was racing, and she felt lightheaded and shaky.
“I bet they trace it back to social media bullying. Seems like all suicides these days lead back to that.”
She wanted to say that Tammy was over-generalising, but she wasn’t in the mood to get into a debate with her flatmate right now.
“Well, at least we know there isn’t some psychopath wandering around London killing young women,” Tammy added.
Liv barely heard her. Did Michael know the woman was dead?
Tammy looked at her curiously. “Are you all right? You’ve gone really pale, and
your hand is shaking.”
She put down her wine, which was in danger of slopping out of the sides of the glass, and shoved her hands into her lap to stop them trembling. “Yes, fine. Just always makes me think of my own mortality when someone young dies, you know?”
Tammy frowned at her in a way that suggested she didn’t know at all, and then pulled her laptop back into place and looked down at it. The conversation was over in her flatmate’s mind, but Liv couldn’t get the thought of the poor girl out of her head. Should she mention it to Michael? Yes, she’d have to, even though it would be in a casual way. It wasn’t as though she suspected Michael of anything untoward. Or did she? People came into contact with random strangers hundreds of times a day in the city. Not every one of them would be considered a suspect. Besides, the police said it was suicide, so the poor girl had done it to herself.
Even so, the urge to look Michael in the face while she told him about the young woman’s death was too great to ignore. She knew it wasn’t something she’d be able to shrug off unless she spoke to him about it.
She picked up her phone and fired off a quick text to Michael.
Are you free for a quick coffee tomorrow? Need to see you.
Her thumb hovered over the green key. She almost didn’t send the message, nervous about what he might say, but then she bit down on her worries and sent it.
She clenched the phone in her white-knuckled hand, breathlessly awaiting a reply. What if he said he was busy, and then she’d be left to stew on this all weekend? She thought she might go crazy. The anxiety was back again, pecking at her nerve endings like the pigeons in Trafalgar Square. She took another couple of gulps of wine, hoping the alcohol would help to calm her. Callie was right—she had been drinking too much lately, though it wasn’t for the reason Callie had assumed. She sneaked a glance over at Tammy, seeing if her flatmate had noticed anything was wrong, but the other woman was engrossed in whatever she was looking at on her laptop.
Liv’s phone buzzed, making her heart lurch and her stomach tumble. It was him.
Love to. How about lunch? My treat. X
She allowed herself to exhale a sigh. It wasn’t perfect, but tomorrow she’d be able to ask him about the blonde again, and watch his expression when he heard the other woman was dead. If he knew more about it than he was letting on, she was sure she’d pick it up from his body language.