Thanks to the quick arrival of the paramedics and the work of the doctors and nurses at Liverpool Hospital who cleaned and stitched me up, the wound should heal without any problems and is unlikely to cause any long-term issues. Having me as a patient hasn’t been an easy task for the hospital. The media attention has been so intense these past few days that the hospital was forced to give me a private room. But not only that, they had no choice but to put a security guard outside that door.
I heard from one of the guards that the hospital staff struggled to cope with the journalists and photographers crowding the corridors. It eventually got so bad that the hospital put a ban on them even entering. Not that that stopped them.
I swear I saw one of the presenters of a crappy Sunday morning TV show creep past my window. The woman clearly hadn’t done her homework because not only could the corner of a pillow be seen sneaking out of the bottom of her fashioned ‘baby bump’ but the hospital doesn’t even have a maternity ward.
The attention I’ve garnered after my time in the villa shows no sign of abating and is as clear a signal as any that my life will never be the same again. I know that now and I also know that I have to accept it. Regardless of how hard it is, I have to find a way to accept what I’ve seen and what I’ve lost.
This time I won’t repress my feelings like I did after the death of Emily Cadman. This time I’ll deal with them properly and sensibly. The hospital was even so kind as to send round one of their therapists for a conversation. We talked about how, although I only knew them for one day, my fellow Islanders will always be a part of my life. I’m one of them. The only difference is that I survived. As time goes on, I know we’ll work together on dealing with the guilt I feel about surviving and maybe I’ll find ways to accept that I couldn’t have done any more than I did to save them. There’s a knock on the window of my room. Today’s guard gives me a wave. I wave back, signalling for him to come in.
He pops his head around the door and gives me a smile.
‘Good morning, Kimberley, how are we today?’ His gentle Caribbean accent always makes me smile when I hear it.
‘Morning, Winston. Getting better every day,’ I reply.
‘Excellent news. Are you ready to get out of this place then?’ he asks. I pause to think about it. I’ve gone from LoveWrecked villa, to prison, to hospital; there’s not been much interaction with the outside world.
‘Yes,’ I say, with a nod. ‘I think it’s time I finally entered the real world, don’t you?’
‘I hope the real world is ready for you, miss.’ He chuckles as he helps me into a wheelchair.
Winston wheels me through the hospital, past ward after ward of patients. The double doors at the front of the hospital whoosh open. I glance around suddenly realising I don’t know what car I’m looking for. But I’m spared a panic as a silver Renault chugs its way towards us, stopping a couple of metres away. The driver gets out and waves to me before rushing round to open the passenger door.
‘Stay safe now,’ says Winston and I blow him a kiss as he retreats to the hospital, pushing the empty wheelchair. I lower myself into the passenger seat slowly, keeping my face straight, trying not to convey the pain that comes with the movement.
‘Thank you,’ I say, turning to Zoe. ‘Thank you for coming to get me. And for saving my life.’
‘You’re welcome,’ she replies, giving my hand a squeeze. ‘And I’m sorry. So, so, so sorry.’
‘For what?’ I ask, looking at her.
‘For everything that happened to you, for not being able to stop it sooner, for falling out of touch for all these years.’ Her words speed out of her and I can tell she’s been wanting to say them for the past few days. She twists in her seat to look at me, her expression pained.
‘How on earth did you find me?’ I ask, more interested in this than discussing the years past.
‘I was worried about you so when I heard that you were back at home I thought I’d come and check on you. I wasn’t involved in the LoveWrecked investigation so I didn’t want to knock in case I got in trouble for interfering but then I saw you leave your house, and I don’t know what possessed me but I followed you.’
‘You weren’t the only one,’ I say; I had quite the tail that night. ‘Thank you though, it was stupid of me to go there alone.’
‘Yeah, it was. When I saw you heading inside Emily’s abandoned house with someone I must admit you had me confused, I swayed between wondering if you had been lured there or this was the place you’d plotted the scheme. I just couldn’t understand what you were doing there. Regardless, I called for back-up and crept inside the house after you.’ Zoe bites her lip. ‘I’m sorry, I should never have suspected you for one minute but…’ She trails off and shakes her head. ‘I’ve missed you, so, so much. Work hasn’t been the same without you.’ Zoe turns to face me, her smile and words are genuine, her concern real.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ I say, squeezing her hand back. Zoe’s eyes glisten and she clears her throat before putting the car into gear; she never was one for emotions.
‘The others are asking about you,’ she says as we drive towards the exit of the hospital car park. ‘Even the Detective Chief Inspector.’ I turn my face to look at her, feeling a look of disbelief cross my face.
‘Who is the Detective Chief Inspector nowadays?’ I ask.
‘Sunita Kheri.’
‘She is asking about me?.’
Back when I worked with Zoe, I never really got the impression that Sunita Kheri had a high opinion of me and I think, in the end, she was relieved when I handed in my resignation.
‘Why is she asking about me?’
‘Well,’ says Zoe, biting her lip and giving me a sideways glance. ‘As much as I’m glad to see you and wanted to collect you, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I do also have an ulterior motive. Sunita has a proposition. Which, I should add, I agree with.’
‘OK…’ I say, slightly worried now.
‘I think you should come back to us, to the force.’
My mouth falls open; she’s asking me to re-join the police force, after my performance on LoveWrecked.
‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Don’t answer straight away. Think about it.’
Being a police officer had been such an important part of who I was and stepping away from it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And I’d be lying to myself if I denied that in the past week, lying in this hospital bed, I didn’t think about it. But I dismissed it quite quickly because when I left I hadn’t exactly reviewed the policy on returning and I know that it is a bit of a taboo subject. The police force isn’t exactly something people swan in and out of; it is typically a for-life sort of arrangement.
‘OK,’ I say as Zoe stops the car at a red light. ‘Since you saved my life, I promise that I will at least think about it.’
Zoe lets out a cheer, which nearly gives an elderly lady toddling past the car window a heart attack. We apologise to her before dissolving into laughter; it’s as if the past five years never happened.
As we turn onto the main road that leads back towards the town centre, Zoe says, ‘You’re a free woman now so where do you want to go first? Home? McDonald’s? Your mum’s house?’
‘All great options but there’s something I need to do before I go home or visit Mum.’
‘My wish is your command,’ says Zoe, though I don’t suspect she will be as willing when she knows what I have planned and I’m not about to tell her.
‘Head towards the city centre, I’ll give you directions from there.’
‘OK…’ says Zoe, sounding slightly suspicious but she follows my instructions without question.
‘There,’ I say, ten minutes later, pointing out my stop on the right. Zoe stops the car on the pavement and I get out.
‘I’ll be five minutes,’ I say, slamming the door behind me. Zoe gives me a confused look but says nothing. Pressing my hand against the cold glass door, I push it open. A m
an, Pringle tube in hand, turns around to look at me. TJ of TJ’s T’Internet Temple gives me a wide grin.
‘Hi, Kim, I heard about your adventures on the news. Since you’re here and alive, I assume Plan A is on.’
‘Plan A is on,’ I say, with a smile.
His eyes register my sling. ‘It’s true then, she shot you?’
‘She shot me.’
‘Nice,’ he says and nothing more. TJ stomps over to one of the vacant computers and sits down; the seat groans under his weight. ‘Give it here.’ The tiny camera that I purchased from him before I went to meet Beth has been hidden in my pocket ever since I woke up in the hospital and found it still attached to my jacket. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asks, uncharacteristically inquisitive, but I chose to come back to TJ because I was sure his years of working in an Internet cafe have probably made him less judgemental and more discreet than others. Plus he’d already agreed to hack into Just Deserts for me when I first bought the camera from him. If I didn’t survive, I’d asked him to go the police and tell them about the camera and where I’d placed it. If Beth had seen it, it would never have worked but I hadn’t had much time to devise Plan A, let alone a particularly comprehensive Plan B.
‘I’m sure,’ I say to him defiantly. ‘It’s the right ending. Rosalind wanted me to solve the murder live on television, but she was never going to let me do it; the game was rigged from the start. I know this video isn’t me solving it, but it is my video that I made. And it is one of the only portrayals of myself that I am in control of. Plus, Beth started it on camera, so I’m ending it on camera.’
TJ takes a deep breath but says nothing. I know his silence is his way of remaining neutral on the matter, to neither give nor deny permission. In many ways, it is better this way. I don’t need anyone telling me what the right or wrong way is to handle this.
‘OK,’ he says, ‘I need a bit of time to access the website, etc., but it should be loaded on there at some point today.’
‘Thanks, TJ. And I haven’t forgotten about that photo, but maybe it can wait until I’ve removed my sling?’
He gives me a thumbs up and focuses his attention back on the computer. As I turn my back on TJ and exit the shop, I smile because there is a part of me that thinks Beth Cadman will be pleased. Something tells me that for her, too, this will feel like a fitting ending.
‘All done?’ asks Zoe as I get into the car.
‘All done. Home, please.’
Epilogue
Spyland.co.uk – News, Scandals and all the latest Gossip from your favourite celebrities
BREAKING NEWS: The infamous revenge blog Just Deserts has released its final post and it is the ending we were all waiting for
Posted on 13th August at 19:25 p.m.
Social media is buzzing over the video recently posted on Just Deserts. Judging from the angles, low quality, poor lighting, the video was filmed from a body cam in almost complete darkness. However, what is possible to learn from the video is that it captures a conversation and subsequent altercation between Rosalind Jenkins and Kimberley King. In the video, Rosalind explains exactly how she met her co-conspirators and where she got the inspiration for her plan.
With Rosalind Jenkins under arrest and her crew lying low, it’s unclear how the post managed to get published. But boy are we glad that it did! The post, entitled ‘The End’, is short, containing very little except for a link to the video and an announcement that the website will soon be shut down. The website announced its final post on Twitter with the following…
@JustDeserts: This will be the website’s final post. Head to www.justdeserts.co.uk/theend to see our final video #LoveWrecked #JustDeserts #TheEnd
Acknowledgements
Everyone says that writing is a lonely activity and I understand how that could be true but I’ve never felt lonely during this journey and that is testament to the brilliant people in these acknowledgements. These acknowledgements are long but as it’s my debut I’ve decided against keeping it brief.
My first thank you must go to Siân Heap, my wonderful editor at Canelo, who saw something in an early draft of this book and has supported me to make it the best it can possibly be. Without her, none of you would be reading this book or these acknowledgements. Thank you Siân, for your faith in me, for your notes, and for always being there to offer advice if I wasn’t sure how to do something. You will always have a special place in my heart.
A huge thank you to Emily Glenister, my superstar agent, who also took a chance on me and has been championing me and this book to everyone she speaks to and especially to me when I would give even a hint that I was worried about something. Emily, it has been such a pleasure to get to know you and, at risk of making this sound like a wedding speech, I cannot wait to continue my writing journey with you by my side. A big thank you to everyone else at DHH Literary Agency who do a lot to support aspiring writers, I was very privileged to be selected to pitch to you at DHH Pitch in Liverpool and it still boggles my mind to think I’m one of your writers.
Thank you to everyone at Canelo who have helped get this book into ship-shape: my copy editor, Becca Allen; proofreader, Abbie Headon; and, to Louise Cullen and Francesca Riccardi who were very kind giving up their time to answer all of my pre-publication questions.
Thank you to Lisa Brewster for the cover design, it is honestly everything I hoped it would be and much better than I could ever have thought up.
Massive thank you to all my friends both real life ones and the lovely writer friends I have met during this journey, I’m very grateful for you giving me your time to read multiple versions of this manuscript. A particular thank you to Imogen who has read all the works I’ve written and whose brilliant brain she always allowed me to pick. To Jenny, Barbara, Millie, and Frances who were always on hand for a quick read or to be my cheerleader if I needed it. To Alexa Donne whose videos on writing were (and continue to be) invaluable and to everyone at Author Mentor Match, especially Chelsea Ichaso, who provided feedback in those early stages to help this book shine.
Thank you to my parents who always told me I could do anything I set my mind to and raised me to never let fear get in the way, thank you for supporting me for these past 30 years but a particular thank you for keeping me well-fed and watered and providing a gorgeous place for me to write and edit even when it was during a lockdown; thank you to my Uncle Ian who gave me his advice whenever I was stuck on something and who once told me that if he didn’t like a book he simply wouldn’t finish it, it is therefore a huge compliment that he read everything of mine from cover to cover. Thank you to all of my family who have been incredibly supportive and excited about this journey, to know that I have a family who never once questioned my ability to do this and did nothing but give me positive encouragement shows what a lucky person I am. And finally, thank you to my wonderful boyfriend Krzysztof whose love of escape rooms and walking tours continue to provide a source of inspiration. Thank you for listening to me talking about writing over the last five years and for being patient during all the evenings and weekends I couldn’t hang out with you because I was working on my book.
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About the Author
S. V. Leonard grew up in the little coastal town of Formby, a suburb of Liverpool. She studied Classics at Oxford University and has been lucky enough to live in Australia, Poland, and Malaysia. She is now based in London. When not writing, she can be found breaking out of escape rooms; doing historical walking tours of London; or drinking wine.
First published in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
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Copyright © S. V. Leonard, 2021
The moral right of S. V. Leonard to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Ebook ISBN 9781800323438
Print ISBN 9781800323445
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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