The Housewarming: A completely unputdownable psychological thriller with a shocking twist

by S. E. Lynes

  ‘It’s just, at the party, you reacted so violently when Jasmine called you “Pockets”…’

  ‘No, I reacted when Johnnie Arsepain Lovegood couldn’t stop himself from telling everyone I was his labourer. And I was already wound up because I didn’t want to go to his stupid show-off party in the first place and Bella was bending my ear about all the fixtures and fittings and we’re… we’re under pressure at the moment… she was doing my head in. Where are you going with this anyway?’

  ‘Please don’t be cross. Matt says I’ve got to accept that Abi died that day. That she drowned. Probably right here. But it’s so hard.’ My throat fills with tears, the ache of them, and when I speak again, my voice is a thin, serrated edge. ‘It’s so hard without a body. It’s so hard to believe that no one, no one saw her. I know it would only have taken her five, ten minutes to walk here, and I know it would have been before the road filled with mums and kids and all of that, I know it’s just about possible, but that’s all it is. Just about possible. And with no body, that’s pretty bloody unsatisfactory.’

  ‘I thought someone had seen her?’

  ‘They weren’t a hundred per cent sure. It came to nothing.’

  ‘I know but they could’ve seen her and thought she was lagging behind or what have you. Is that it? Any more questions? It’s just I’ve got to be up early.’ He stands.

  I remain on the wall, make myself look up at him. His brow is furrowed; his expression that of someone who can feel his temper shortening but is trying to hide it.

  ‘I saw Jasmine this morning,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘She… she recognised Mr Sloth. You know, the plush toy you gave—’

  ‘I know what you mean. Christ, Ava, you don’t need to explain it.’ His tone is different. Harder. ‘I told Matt he should have thrown that out or kept it in a memory box or something. I don’t know why he wants Fred to have it. I said we’d buy him a new one. It’s… I dunno… a bit morbid if you ask me.’

  ‘I know. I felt the same, but… why would Jasmine recognise it? Why would she know its name? That day… the Lovegoods had left the house before Abi went missing. How would she even have seen it?’

  His face closes. When he looks at me, it is in a way I have never seen him look before – it is the way you look at someone when all affection for them has vanished.

  The slightest shake of his head. ‘Have you dragged me from my bed to accuse me of something?’ He is almost whispering. ‘Is that what this is? What the hell do you think I’ve done? Kidnapped my own god-daughter? Do you think I’m hiding her in my shed? Christ, Ava, do you think I’m a—’

  ‘No! God, no!’ The blood flashes to my head.

  ‘Do you think I’ve sold her? Is that what you think? Because it’d be good for me to know, do you know what I mean? Just so we can be clear that even though I had my house and my shed and my van searched and sniffed, had my fingerprints taken like a criminal, and the police didn’t suspect me of anything, even though I did all that, you, one of my best mates, you think I’ve got something to do with it. Christ, Ava.’

  I burst into tears. ‘I’m sorry. I’m a mess, I know I am, but I just have to get it straight in my mind if I’m going to have any chance of letting her go, you know? I have to accept that she’s gone, forever, but the problem is, even going to that party felt like a betrayal, like we were ready to even contemplate enjoying ourselves without her, you know? I feel like I’m leaving her behind. How can I possibly do that? And then Bella said you were out all night that night. But you weren’t. You came home at midnight. With Matt. You weren’t out all night, so why would she say that?’

  ‘I brought Matt back at midnight.’ His voice is hoarse with exasperation, his fingers spread on outstretched hands. ‘I brought him back and do you know what I did then? Do you? Have a guess – go on. I went looking for her again. I went back out there and I looked for her.’ Spit flies from his mouth. The more he speaks, the angrier he gets, as if with every word he is becoming more aware of what it is I’m asking him. ‘On my own. On my own, yeah? Last man standing, that’s me. No one tried harder than me, Ava, no one. I tried harder than her own fucking father.’

  A burning sensation runs the entire length of me, but it’s too late, too late, too late. I should never have texted him. He is our closest friend. My God, what have I done?

  ‘I was out all bloody night,’ he is saying, throwing up his arms in despair. ‘I was desperate to find her, all right? I can’t believe this. I can’t believe you’re asking me this stuff. Jasmine probably saw the toy another day or that afternoon or something. I don’t know. I don’t know how she knew it, but she did, OK? But it doesn’t mean anything. The girl’s got learning difficulties, for God’s sake. Just think about what you’re saying, Ava!’

  Deep wells of regret pool in my chest. I should never have had these thoughts. I should never have acted on them.

  I sob into my hands. My nose is running, I can’t see for tears. ‘I just can’t stop myself going over and over it. I can’t bear it, Neil. I can’t bear not to know. And I’ve lost Matt and now I’ve accused you, our friend, our best friend, and I just wish… I wish I didn’t have Fred. I don’t deserve him. I love him, but he shouldn’t be forced to have someone like me for his mother. He shouldn’t have to have this wreck. I don’t deserve him. I’m not good enough, I’m not a good enough mother for him… for any child. Where is Abi, Neil? Where is she? Where is my little girl? I want my little girl.’

  I stare out at the water. I see Neil and me on this wall. I see the streets, all the streets I used to walk with Abi, the school I would have taken her to, the parks we used to visit, the shops we used to call at on the way home. I see the slipway, now, in front of me. I see the lock. I see the moon rippling on the black river like a white silk scarf. Is this my daughter’s grave? This black river? Is that where she is?

  And then I am running. I am running towards the river.

  Twenty-Eight

  Ava

  The wet embrace of the river. The water climbs up my ankles, my shins, my knees. Soaks heavy on the hem of my nightdress.

  ‘Ava!’

  Neil’s arms clamp themselves around my chest. I stumble; we fall into the deeper water. My head goes under. We come up coughing, flailing. Neil holds me up, holds me to him, drags me back onto the slipway, into the shallows. We are panting, gasping. The sky dims; the moon passes behind a cloud. The water laps gently at the slope.

  We part, both sitting soaked through in the cold, wet water.

  ‘Ava, for Christ’s sake.’ He keeps tight hold of my hands.

  ‘Let go of me.’ I try to pull my hands from his. ‘Let me go.’

  ‘No chance.’

  ‘Let go. It’s over. I have nothing. Nothing left. I want my daughter. I want to go to her.’

  With all my weight, I lean away from him, dig my heels into the slimy floor. I get one hand free. I reach for the river, but in a strange kind of dance, he pulls me back into his arms and holds me tight, too tight; my ribcage hurts.

  ‘Ava, come on. Don’t be stupid. You have Fred. You have Matt. I know you don’t think you do, but you do. He loves you. You still have a family, that’s more than… it’s more than enough. Matt loves you. He loves you more than anything in the world.’

  Wewd, I think. That’s how Neil says the word ‘world’. I am soaking wet. I am sitting in the Thames. My husband’s best friend says wewd not world. Smow wewd. Small world.

  I begin to laugh.

  ‘Ava?’ He lets go of my hands but grips me by the biceps, at arm’s length. He looks frightened. Of me.

  ‘You rugby-tackled me,’ I say, and laugh and laugh and laugh. I laugh my head off; I cannot stop. My bones are jelly. I am a rag doll, thrown aside. I am Mr Sloth, in the gutter, mulched leaves on my head.

  I want to lie back in the water. I want to float away.

  ‘Ava.’ My name is a whispered plea. ‘Ava, come out, darlin’. Come out of the water. Please.�
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  I let him take my hand. I let him pull me up.

  Sober with shock, I sit on the wall. He has put his coat around me. It is dry; he must have taken it off before he ran after me into the water. I am laughing. I am crying. I am both. I am neither.

  Neil is standing in front of me. He is holding out the hem of his T-shirt. Beneath, the curve of his beer belly, his thick, solid torso. ‘Here.’

  I dip my face to his T-shirt and wipe my nose and eyes.

  After a moment, he sits beside me.

  ‘Nutter,’ he says.

  Silence settles on us. I have no idea what I feel, other than a creeping sense of embarrassment, the urgent need to leave whatever just happened behind. I have been ridiculous. Paranoia has made me ridiculous. Neil is our best friend, for God’s sake.

  A group of lads swagger noisily from the footbridge. The air fills with the smell of weed. We wait for them to pass, neither of us wanting to draw attention to ourselves.

  ‘Jen said you went back for Bella last night,’ I say, as if to pick up on a perfectly normal conversation we were having, soaking wet, on a public wall, at midnight.

  ‘We had a row,’ he replies. ‘She was pissed. She gets so bloody pissed.’

  I shrug. ‘She always did like to party. It’s why we love her.’

  ‘I know, but it’s… she… Lately she’s… we…’ He puts his hand to his brow.

  ‘Neil? What?’

  ‘She’s drinking to cope.’

  ‘Cope? With what happened to Abi?’

  He shakes his head. ‘We’re… we’re having IVF. No one knows. Not even Matt.’

  My head pounds. I feel like I’ve been winded.

  ‘Oh, Neil,’ I manage. ‘I’m so… I’m so sorry. Have you… I mean, has it been long?’

  ‘We had our first round last year. The day Abi disappeared we’d not long lost… we’d not long… Bel… it hadn’t taken, you know? She was a mess and I couldn’t… I couldn’t do anything about it.’

  ‘Oh, Neil, I’m so sorry. When did you… when did you lose the…?’

  He sighs. ‘It was on the Saturday. We were at yours on the Sunday.’

  ‘On the Saturday? Oh my… and we told you we were expecting… Oh, Neil.’ I attempt to pull him to me, but he wriggles out of my embrace. ‘That must have been so hard.’

  Their reaction to our news that day clicks into place. It was nothing, nothing I was able to put my finger on, but I felt it.

  ‘There’s been another one since. A few months ago.’

  I put my arm around him, as best I can, my mind filled with how he was last night, so beside himself – it was about Abi, yes, but he had so much more going on than that.

  ‘Poor Bella too,’ I say.

  No wonder she’s stayed away. The sight of Fred must have been heartbreaking for her. Everything, everything about how they’ve been this last year is not what I thought at all.

  ‘Don’t say anything, will you?’ Neil says, standing up, teeth chattering. ‘She would’ve told you but you had enough on your plate. We didn’t want to bring that into things.’

  I stand up too. I offer him his jacket but he shakes his head. ‘You could have told us,’ I say. ‘We wouldn’t have taken it like that. We’re friends. And I know that what’s happened to us is… but it doesn’t mean we don’t have space for…’

  ‘I know, but… you know what I mean. Anyway, I’ve told you now. Let’s go home before we freeze to death, eh?’

  We head home with slow, silent steps, shivering down the deserted lamplit street. Neil throws his arm around me. He talks. He talks and talks, rolls out a narration of my recent life. I suppose he’s trying to bring me back to my life, back to wanting to live it.

  ‘Matt’s a good guy,’ he says. ‘He’s the best. I know what he did was wrong, but you’re everything to him, you and Fred. Abi was everything to him too.’ On it goes. He is an easy talker, a businessman, a lad. I know he’s handling me; I can hear it in the pacifying, near-hypnotic tone of his voice. ‘Don’t judge him for what he did that day, Ave. What happened happened, and everyone was panicking, yeah? Everyone. He was just trying to protect what he had. We’ve all got to protect what we have, haven’t we? We’ve got to look after our own. That’s all any of us can do. We build our castles and we have to defend them, yeah? Slings and arrows, no matter what. He’s like me, didn’t get it all handed to him on a plate, you know? He got the brains, I got the street smarts, but we’ve both worked hard to get to where we are, so what’s he going to do, throw it all away? Do me a favour and forgive him, Ave. What’s the alternative? Eh? He did what he did, we are where we are, and leaving him won’t bring Abi back.’

  Even his walk is solid, I think, keeping step with him, and I wonder what it must be like to walk that walk, to be that guy. The guy who takes care of everyone, who fixes things and finds solutions. But what happens when you can’t take care of everyone? When you can’t fix it, can’t find the solution? What then? What happens then?

  Twenty-Nine

  Matt

  The strange straitjacket of a single bed. The weirdness of the white plastic origami-style lightshade against the white ceiling. He should not have stayed here. He has been hoping for reconciliation, but it has not come, and last night he should have left. He needs to leave if he is to come back; he knows that now. But, as ever, he has not done what he should have. He has not acted with integrity. He has not acted at all. And now here he is, in the spare room, thinking of his father’s red face, his height, his gut-loosening bellow.

  ‘Just admit it, lad,’ his father shouts into the troubled ear of his memory – his flat Mancunian twang. ‘Lying will only make it worse. Own up, for God’s sake.’

  He is six years old. And at that, Matt’s eyes prickle, his skin heating as his body too remembers. At six, to be shouted at like that, close up, by a grown man. For what? He can’t remember. He can never remember. A bike left out in the rain. A failure to help his mother with the clearing-up. A poor mark at school.

  The point is, he can never remember because there is nothing a child of six can do that could possibly warrant that level of fury, the week-long ghosting, the glowering and absolute rejection that would last for days, days when his belly would be knotted in dread until, at last, at last, his father would give him a kind word or a joke, and Matt would feel his lungs empty, his veins drain of dread, his heart slow with sweet relief that, finally, he was out of trouble.

  This is why he told Neil that night. He just wanted to confess it to someone, to share it, and feel some relief. What he was asking for was absolution, he thinks now.

  ‘I just popped back and grabbed it from the hook,’ he said as they stood there in the moonlight under the pissing rain. ‘I was only in there two or three seconds. A second, literally. I just grabbed it, you know, and then I… I thought Ava would be back downstairs. I didn’t think twice. I thought she’d be two seconds so I didn’t think it was worth cycling all the way back.’

  That horrible moment when Neil seemed to consider it, when everything seemed to be in the balance, as if he might pass some shattering final judgement and Matt would be forced to go home to his wife and tell her he was responsible, tell her and watch his entire life collapse around him. All he could do was wait, breath suspended, as his friend blinked away the rain still dripping fatly from his brow. He wanted to scream at him to say something, anything, to make him feel less wretched, but then, finally, oh God, finally, Neil rested his hand on Matt’s shoulder and shook his head.

  ‘OK, mate,’ he said. ‘It’s OK.’

  ‘I didn’t think anything of it.’ Matt could barely stop the words flushing out of him. ‘But then when she called and said Abi was missing, I knew. I just knew. But when I got back, she was convinced it was her and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t admit it then, Nee, when I should’ve. I was going to but it was all… it was so… and then the moment was gone. That was my chance. I was going to tell her later, once we found Abi. I thought we’d fi
nd her straight away, I genuinely did, but then it all… and now we haven’t found her, have we, we’re not going to find her, and it’s too late. It’s too late to tell her, isn’t it? How can I ever tell her? I can’t lose her – do you know what I’m saying? She’ll leave me. I’ll lose everything. I’ll lose her and the baby.’

  ‘Baby?’ Confusion wrote itself across Neil’s face before it cleared. ‘Oh, you mean the pregnancy?’

  Matt felt his legs buckle. Another second and Neil was holding him up.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he said, his voice little more than a croak. ‘So you left the front door open. And yes, you should have told her. But shit happens and you didn’t say anything, all right? You didn’t. We all do things without thinking. It’s called being human, yeah? We make mistakes. And you regret it, of course you do. But admitting it won’t get you any further, will it? It won’t change what’s happened. And whoever left that door open isn’t whoever took Abi, so what’s the point?’

  ‘You think someone’s taken her? Is that what you think? Is it?’

  Neil shook his head. ‘That’s not what I’m saying, mate. I’m saying that you didn’t take her, if she was taken. You didn’t hurt her. You didn’t do anything to her. Didn’t you tell Ava not to blame herself?’

  ‘Yes, but that’s only because I know she did shut the front door. Because I had to unlock it to get my coat… Oh my God, what am I going to do? I’ve killed our little girl, Neil. I’ve killed her.’

  ‘OK. OK. Stop. You don’t know that and what you’re saying, what you’re saying is way too strong. Listen to me. You love Ava, yeah? And you’re right – you can’t look after her and the baby if you tell her, not now. She’ll leave, or she might, and what does that solve? Nothing. And it’s worse for her too, yeah? She’d be on her own. She’d be devastated. So don’t. Don’t tell her. Don’t tell her, mate. There’s nothing to be gained. Are you listening? What’s happened has happened and none of us can do anything about it. And when all this is over, you’ll have that baby and you two can get on with being the most loved-up couple on the planet.’ Neil squeezed his arms tight. ‘Look at me. Look at me, mate.’