The Pact: A dark and compulsive thriller about secrets, privilege and revenge

by S J Bolton

  She took a step closer. ‘Try telling them that. I’m a child killer, Xav – no one wants to live in the same house as me. The front door has been vandalised – someone wrote murderer on it in red paint. And my own door has been kicked in, my room wrecked. They smeared shit all over the walls and peed on my bed. They’ve been messing with my food too – I’ve had to throw it all away. I can’t lock the door. I’m not safe.’

  And with that, he knew why she was here.

  ‘What about the others?’ he managed.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. ‘I can’t go to Dan’s – he lives in a monastery. And Amber has more security around her house than the Beckhams.’

  To know that, she must have been snooping around Amber’s house. He wondered how many times she’d stood in this street, maybe watching him and Ella through the windows, and his stomach twisted at the thought of Megan coming anywhere near his wife.

  ‘Tal?’ he tried. ‘What about Felix? I mean, you work with him.’

  ‘Sarah and Mark can’t stand me. Sarah’s trying to get me sacked – there’s no way she’d let me stay with them. And I went to Talitha’s house. Mark wouldn’t let me in.’

  That probably wasn’t even true. He’d spoken to Tal not half an hour ago. She would have told him.

  ‘Ella’s never met me.’ Megan pushed out her bottom lip and widened her eyes at him. ‘She can’t throw me out before she’s even met me.’

  Ella knew nothing about Megan, nothing about her former friendship with Xav, her long incarceration, or her reappearance. Even so, few wives would admit a strange woman into their house without question. Actually, Ella might be one of the few; nothing ever seemed to ruffle Ella’s zen-like calm.

  Xav glanced at the windows of his house, two doors away; still black and empty. Unless his wife had an early job, in which case her packed suitcase would be in the hallway, she rarely got out of bed before eight. It was possible he could sneak Megan in and out without Ella even knowing.

  ‘Did you drive here?’ He looked up and down the road for a car he didn’t recognise. ‘You’ll need to move by seven or you’ll get clamped.’

  She held up a hand, car keys looped around an index finger. ‘No problem. I still have a job, in spite of Sarah’s best efforts.’

  Megan waited quietly while he unlocked the door. No suitcase in the hall, thank God, and he hurried her through to the kitchen.

  ‘Coffee?’ he said, before wondering if Ella would hear the kettle. Probably not, she slept like a child.

  Megan ignored the offer. ‘So, where have you been?’ she said. ‘I was beginning to think I’d have to sleep in the car.’

  ‘Work.’ He turned to the kettle, picked it up and put it down again – she hadn’t said she wanted coffee. ‘Lot on at the minute. Had a conference call with the team in New York.’

  He had to stop talking. He’d never been a good liar, and he wasn’t even dressed for work. ‘I parked at Uxbridge.’ He pulled a Tube station out of the air. ‘Got a cab there. The firm have an Uber account for when we’re pulling all-nighters.’ Christ, he had to stop. ‘Do you need anything? Towel? Toothbrush?’

  She raised a shoulder so that her bag bounced against her hip. ‘Emergency supplies,’ she said. ‘I’ve been expecting this for a while.’

  ‘Tal said you were flat hunting. Any luck?’

  ‘Tal’s house is lovely, isn’t it? I always wanted to live in Summertown.’

  ‘I guess.’

  Megan turned on the spot, taking in the high-ceilinged kitchen, the conservatory that led out into the walled garden.

  ‘This is great too, though, and handy for the centre of town.’ She looked up at the ceiling. ‘Four floors, including the basement, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study. Some work needed, but potentially the perfect family home.’

  She sounded like the estate agent who’d sold him the place.

  ‘I Googled it, in case you’re wondering,’ she went on. ‘Properties for sale stay online for months after the sale goes through. I think I prefer Tal’s on balance. No offence. But the parking will be easier, and the garden’s a lovely size.’

  She was talking as though Tal’s house, his house, were hers for the asking. Maybe they were.

  Megan turned away without waiting for a response and froze, her eyes fixed on something. For a moment, Xav had no idea what she could be looking at. Then on the dresser, he saw the wedding photograph of him and Ella.

  It had been a snapshot, taken by one of the guests, of the two of them walking along a country path from the church to her parents’ garden.

  ‘Marry me, Xav. That’s your favour. Get rid of Amber, she doesn’t deserve to have her hopes built up and dashed. You’ll have a few years to sow your wild oats – I won’t ask any questions – but you have to stay single. Stay single and when I get out, you have to marry me.’

  They’d stood, he and Megan by Felix’s mum’s car, the last time that summer the six of them had been together, and he’d thought how beautiful she was, and that he’d never really appreciated that before, and that she looked desperately sad and, at the same time, cold as polished steel. It had been all he could do not to throw himself on the ground at her feet and sob how sorry he was, how grateful that she was doing this for them and that he would do anything to make it up to her. Marry her? Of course, it was the least he could do.

  Now, as he stood behind her, almost in touching distance, he wondered if she hadn’t been acting in her own interests after all. With crap A level results, she’d have had to wave goodbye to the glittering career the rest of them could look forward to. With no university place, she’d have been dropped from their circle eventually. Maybe Megan had seen the accident as her last chance to bind the group to her forever; her last chance to keep Xav in her life.

  She hadn’t known that night about the police evidence of all their other attempts. She couldn’t possibly have known she’d be charged with murder, not dangerous driving, that the sentence would be longer than the worst she could prepare for. By the time she’d realised the full force of the case against her, it would have been too late to back out. In fairness, though, she hadn’t even tried. She’d done everything in her power to protect them. To protect him.

  ‘She looks like me,’ Megan said.

  She turned to face him, even seemed a little surprised at how close he’d moved, and then nodded down at the photograph, and the traitorous thought that had crept into his head in the street was back. At twenty-nine, Ella didn’t look much older than Megan had at eighteen. Her hair, cut short, dyed platinum blonde, was exactly how Megan had worn hers at school. Her tiny face was the same, her pointed chin the same, her big, dark eyes the same. He’d married a woman who could be Megan’s younger sister.

  Xav had had no idea, until that moment, how totally fucked up he was.

  ‘Do you think so?’ he managed.

  Megan put her hands behind her back and stared up at him. ‘Nothing like Amber,’ she said.

  ‘Amber and I were a long time ago.’

  ‘So were you and I, almost.’

  Of all the things she could remember, why did it have to be that? The party on the hill, high above Oxford, when pavilions and fires and lanterns had transformed an already wild garden into something akin to fairyland. As most people had either gone home or passed out, he and Megan had been sitting by the fire pit, talking, and it had almost happened between them. She’d been so brave, dropping huge hints about how she felt about him, and he’d bottled it. He’d let her go, and in doing so, may have changed the entire course of both their lives.

  His wife was upstairs. His wife was feet away, possibly awake, although he and Megan were making no sound at all now. He might almost have been grateful for a squeaking floorboard, for a sudden coughing fit, but the night stayed treacherously silent as he took the last step that brought them to within inche
s of each other.

  ‘Every night,’ she whispered.

  He knew exactly what she was going to say next. Every night I thought about you. He didn’t give her a chance. He took hold of her face and kissed her.

  35

  Every time Xav’s phone rang that week, he expected it to be Megan. By the Thursday, he was seriously considering throwing it into the Thames; the sound of it was shredding his nerves. Halfway through the morning, it rang and he knew, this time, it had to be her. He fumbled for his jacket, somehow managing to knock it off the back of his chair. Number withheld. He pressed accept.

  ‘Xav, it’s me.’

  Not Megan, but Amber and, Christ, that was a stab of disappointment in his gut.

  It had been Megan who’d brought the kiss to an end on Monday night, not him.

  ‘Not with your wife upstairs,’ she’d whispered, and he’d managed to pull himself together. The two of them had crept upstairs, he’d shown her to the spare room on the second floor and then lain awake beside his sleeping wife.

  ‘Hi.’ He could do without Amber right now.

  ‘I need to see you,’ she said. ‘Are you free for lunch?’

  ‘I don’t do lunch, Am.’ He’d lost count of the number of times he’d explained this.

  ‘Later then. I’ve got meetings, but I can rearrange.’

  ‘Is this really—’

  ‘It’s about Megan. Xav, you need to hear this.’

  He met Amber at the entrance to Portcullis House; she signed him in through security and walked ahead to her office on the third floor. She was wearing a mauve close-fitting suit with high-heeled navy shoes.

  ‘Thanks for coming here,’ she said, after she’d told her assistant to hold all calls. ‘It’s difficult for me, you know, restaurants and things.’

  Amber’s office window looked out over the river. Xav could see St Thomas’s Hospital on one side of the bridge, the old County Hall on the other, a constant stream of people pushing their way along the embankment. Further downstream, the London Eye moved slowly.

  ‘I haven’t got long,’ he told her.

  Amber took a seat in one of the easy chairs. She’d taken off her jacket. Her shirt was silk, tailored, and he could see damp patches beneath her armpits. ‘She’s been stalking the girls.’

  For a second he was confused. ‘Who? Megan?’

  ‘Yes, Megan.’ Amber’s face twisted. ‘She’s going after my daughters, Xav.’

  He’d seen that look on Amber’s face before, just not for many years; it meant she was about to cry. He reached out and took hold of both her hands. ‘OK, take it easy. Are they both OK?’

  Megan wouldn’t hurt Amber’s children. Amber had got it wrong somehow, but the look on her face was scaring him. She’d reddened, was breathing too quickly, and her eyes were filled with tears. She seemed to be struggling to speak.

  ‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘Take it easy. Start at the beginning.’

  She gulped in air like a drowning woman. ‘She followed them and their nanny to an indoor play area on Monday,’ Amber managed at last. ‘And then yesterday, she was waiting for them outside their ballet class. I’ve no idea how she knew where it was – I certainly didn’t tell her.’

  He let go of her hands. ‘I think we should assume Megan knows as much about all of us as it’s possible to find out. So, what happened?’

  ‘She was there when I went to collect them. You know how I like to be around for them when I can – and it’s not so that people will see me being a good mother, it’s so I can be a good mother. They like me to pick them up, not Emily.’

  Xav tried to remember who Emily was; of course, Amber’s nanny.

  ‘So, we were waiting in the car park outside, and one of the other mum’s was bending my ear about how she didn’t agree with the increases to child benefit and then Megan appeared.’

  The way she had to him in the street. Xav had to admit, it was disconcerting. ‘Did you ask her what she was doing there?’

  ‘She said she was in the area – don’t ask me why, I didn’t think to ask – and wanted to see the girls again. She said she’d been thinking about them such a lot, about how beautiful they are, and how much she wants to be a part of their lives now she’s back in Oxford. That’s her new euphemism for being released from prison, Xav, she’s “back in Oxford again”, as though she’s been on some sort of fancy sabbatical.’

  ‘Yeah, focus, Am. I can understand why you don’t want her turning up unannounced, but this doesn’t sound too bad.’

  ‘Oh really, well keep listening because it didn’t take her long to get on the subject of you.’

  Xav pushed away the image of Megan’s face, inches from his own.

  ‘What did she say about me?’

  Amber sniffed. ‘Oh, now you’re interested? Well, I’m getting to that. She’d brought presents for them both – she did the same thing on Monday too – and you know what kids are like with gifts. They were all over their new Auntie Megan, wanting to bring her home for tea, and I tried to make excuses, but she focused all her attention on them, not me, and practically invited herself round.’

  ‘You took her home with you?’

  ‘She gave me no choice. Other people were watching by this time. You don’t know what she’s like, Xav—’

  Oh, he did. He knew exactly what Megan was like. He knew what she smelled like, what she tasted like.

  ‘I couldn’t say no without making a scene, I’m sure some of the other mums were getting suspicious, so she followed us home and now she knows where we live.’

  She’d have known anyway. ‘Am, I think you’re over-reacting.’

  ‘Oh, am I?’ Amber’s voice rose. If she weren’t careful, they’d be heard in the next room – Amber never tired of saying the Commons was leakier than a sieve. ‘Well, tell me something,’ she went on. ‘How did Ella take the news the two of you are getting a divorce?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That was her bombshell while the girls were getting changed. She said she had something important to tell me. She wanted me to know first, because of the history you and I had, that you and she are getting together.’

  Xav half got to his feet. It had been one kiss. One fucking kiss.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he managed.

  ‘News to you, is it? Because it surprised me a bit, but apparently the two of you had a thing, even back when we were going out. She said something about Will Markham’s party, when I wasn’t feeling very well. She said you were going to break up with me once we went to uni and start seeing her instead. She said that’s why the two of you both applied to Cambridge so that you could be together.’

  Will Markham, that fabulous house on Boars Hill, a garden that seemed to go on for miles; and the best party he could remember.

  ‘Well, first, that’s bullshit, and second, it was twenty years ago. What the hell does it matter – to you, I mean – now?’

  Looking affronted, Amber said, ‘Oh, it doesn’t, but I thought you’d want to know.’

  ‘I do, thanks, Am. But why does she think the two of us are getting back together? Not that we were ever together in the first place.’

  ‘Well, it could be something to do with the fact you actually promised to save yourself and marry her when she got out of prison, but she didn’t mention that. She’s keeping up the can’t- remember-anything nonsense. She said it’s been obvious since she got back that the attraction is still there. You can’t keep your eyes off each other, apparently. She said that’s why Ella didn’t come to Tal’s that first Saturday – you didn’t want the two of them meeting up. She said you don’t love Ella, you never did, she was just second best because you got too lonely but that it’s over now. Xav, she sounded mad.’

  He couldn’t look at Amber. ‘She came to the house on Monday night.’

  For a moment, the admis
sion seemed to hang in the air.

  ‘Shit. Was Ella there?’

  ‘Asleep, upstairs. I was late back.’ He hadn’t yet told anyone else in the group about his visit to the water tower, and it looked like Tal hadn’t either. Events were going too fast to keep up with.

  ‘You didn’t let her in, did you?’

  Oh, like it was that easy. ‘She spent the night,’ he admitted as he got to his feet. Sitting still didn’t feel possible any more.

  Back at the window, watching a man buy flowers from a stand near Westminster Bridge, he told her about Megan’s sob story, installing her in the spare room and about her leaving, calm and grateful, shortly after he’d dragged himself downstairs the next morning. He didn’t tell Amber about the kiss, or that he’d lain awake most of the night. By the time he was finished, Amber was pale-faced and scared. He didn’t blame her.

  ‘Xav, I know I’ve been the first to argue we should cut Megan some slack, but I’m not sure any more.’ Amber seemed calmer, having got the worst off her chest. ‘I haven’t told you everything.’

  Xav felt something harden in his stomach. ‘Go on,’ he said.

  ‘Once the girls came back, she started making a big fuss of them again. And she’s good with them – she’s got a sort of natural gift for talking to children. She was telling them about Antigua, where Dex’s family come from. She must have read it all in a book because there’s no way she’s been to the Caribbean, but she was talking about folk legends and magic, people who could turn into animals and spirits who lived in the mountains and the rivers. It was fascinating, even I could see that. They thought she was fabulous, but you know what occurred to me after a few minutes?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She was luring them away. She was trying to charm them, casting some sort of spell over them.’

  Xav took a step back towards her. ‘Am, I thin—’

  She held up a hand to ward him off. ‘No, listen. I put the TV on in the end. Me. I never encourage them to watch TV, but I couldn’t stand it and then she started saying that the worst thing about being inside for a young woman was the lost opportunity to have children. She said even with you in her life, she was never going to have a child of her own. She told me she had a bad accident in prison – I guess it must have been the one Tal and Dan told us about, when she supposedly lost her memory. There was massive internal damage and she had to have a hysterectomy. She can’t ever have kids.’