But now, after all these years? I think it really is probably over . . . finally.
I never planned it. And I still remember it all as if sleepwalking.
At the hospital to visit the boys and passing Emma’s room, there was just this moment. This unexpected window. The nurse away from her station. Emma’s room unattended. Just her and the machines. The bleeping and the monitors.
And the truth? It was much too easy. To silence the machine. To disconnect the oxygen tube. I really was waiting, all the time, for someone to come in.
To stop me.
But no one came. And so I watched her face change, her head toss from the left to the right. Desperate for air. And I held my own breath and I counted, just as I had on the train. And I knew that in that moment I changed to another person. A person I did not recognise and did not really want to be.
I waited and waited until finally she stilled. Until I was sure. Then I reconnected the tube and I left.
I paced the kitchen at home and waited, again, for them to come for me.
But instead we got the phone call to say that Emma was gone.
I know now, through Nathan and Tom, that there was an internal inquiry. The agency nurse – taking a private call from her teenager – was disciplined. The death recorded as natural causes. Turns out hospitals have scores of incidents involving oxygen every year.
Sometimes I even tell myself that I imagined it all; that she would probably have died anyway.
But the most difficult truth of all? I don’t actually care. And I don’t feel guilty either. Because the most shocking thing is that if I could go back in time I would do exactly the same thing again.
For I am no longer the person who believes in justice. I am no longer the Sophie who saw things in black and white. Good and bad.
As I watched Emma die, I knew there was no way I dared to let her charm her way out of it all; to come and threaten my family again.
And now I watch Mark’s car getting closer, closer, weaving its way past a villa on the opposite hill. A splendid white building with pots of vivid flowers tumbling down its terraces. Pink and red and blue and white.
I have not told Mark, nor will I. Sometimes I think he would understand; that I did it for Ben. For Theo. For love.
But then I think of Emma tossing from side to side as she struggled to breathe. The horror that I could stand there. Do nothing.
Me. Sophie. Ordinary wife and mother . . .
And I see that the lesson and the terrible consequence here is that I alone must somehow learn to live with this.
It is who I am now.
It is what Emma made me.
I really thought on that terrible train journey home that the biggest shock and most important lesson was realising what other people are truly capable of.
But – turns out there is a much greater and more chilling shock.
Learning – in the face of evil and in the name of love – what you are capable of yourself.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you so much for reading The Friend. The idea for this book came from my years working as a journalist when, court case after court case, I was so often shocked by how difficult it can be to spot true ‘evil’ in a person.
When I started out as a reporter I imagined, naively, there would always be some sign – something in a person’s behaviour or background to give them away. But then I came across cases involving the kind of people who frightened me way more than the obvious misfits. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. People like my fictional Emma.
The ‘problem’ with having a conscience is you expect other people to have one too, so you analyse and evaluate their behaviour according to your own standards. But true sociopaths have no understanding why we all worry about rules or laws . . . or the lives and feelings of others.
I watched so many witnesses and victims in obvious shock after coming across this kind of criminal and it was that utter disbelief – at being taken in – that I wanted to try to capture in this story.
I do hope you have enjoyed reading The Friend, and if so, I would greatly appreciate a review on Amazon. They really do help other people to discover my writing.
I also love to hear from readers, so feel free to get in touch. You can find my website at www.teresadriscoll.com and also say hello on Twitter @teresadriscoll or via my Facebook author page: www.facebook/TeresaDriscollAuthor.
Warm wishes to you all,
Teresa
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It is always my family I want to thank first in each of my books, for they are not only my greatest cheerleaders but also the people who have to ‘duck and cover’ during the inevitable ups and downs of writing and editing each novel.
Pete and James and Edward – I love you so much!
Thanks go next to my second family – all the writers, bloggers and readers who are so generous with their friendship and advice and support. With that goes a particular shout-out to the authors at the Harrogate Crime Festival who were so warm and kind, calming my nerves during my first visit.
Heartfelt thanks also to my publisher, Thomas & Mercer, and my clever and patient editors, Jack Butler and Sophie Missing, who brought wonderful ideas to the table as I worked out how best to tell this story.
And the usual hug of very special thanks to the person who made the whole author dream come true for me – my wonderful agent, Madeleine Milburn.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2015 Claire Tregaskis
For more than twenty-five years as a journalist – including fifteen years as a BBC TV news presenter – Teresa Driscoll followed stories into the shadows of life. Covering crime for so long, she watched and was deeply moved by all the ripples each case caused, and the haunting impact on the families, friends and witnesses involved. It is those ripples that she explores in her darker fiction.
Teresa lives in beautiful Devon with her husband and two sons. She writes women’s fiction as well as thrillers, and her novels have been published in six languages. You can find out more about her books on her website (www.teresadriscoll.com) or by following her on Twitter (@TeresaDriscoll) or Facebook (www.facebook.com/teresadriscollauthor).
The Friend: An emotional psychological thriller with a twist Page 26