‘Well, don’t, then, but it’s the truth. Jesus, I shouldn’t have told you – I’ve really let Harry down now.’
‘Then why haven’t his parents heard from him all summer?’
‘Because he’s angry with them. His father’s a control freak, a complete tyrant – always on at him to nail a career and threatening to cut the money off if he doesn’t. Hippy-dippy Dutch girls were never in his family’s plan for him, I can assure you. You should see them together, the guy’s absolutely smitten; he’s talking about never going home. Imagine that… poof! Like he just disappeared.’
Dale is shaking her head. ‘No… no! I don’t think that’s what happened; it just sounds… If Harry’s gone away, why is his passport here with you?’
‘Oh my god, Dale – you’ve got such a suspicious mind. Because he doesn’t need it. Harry and Marika are staying in a villa about ten miles from here. God, if I hadn’t drunk so much gin, I’d take you there myself.’
He can see Dale is weighing up his story. Keep it together, almost there… win her over.
His tone softens. ‘Dale, I’m sorry for being such a wanker. I hate that you don’t like me. It’s a blow to my ego. I’m normally so popular with women. Believe me when I say there’s nothing I’d like more than for us to be friends, especially now that Susanne and I are engaged.’
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t count on that happening. Even if Harry’s fine and all loved up, the fact is, you’ve lied through your teeth all summer.’ Dale lets out a cheerless bark of laughter. ‘I don’t even know your name.’
‘It’s Brandon.’
‘Brandon what?’ Dale snaps back. He watches her expression harden. ‘I don’t believe you… not a single word. I don’t think you were even friends with Harry. I see right through you, “Brandon”. A guy like you – a hustler – you wouldn’t even be on Harry’s radar. He’d never—’
A bomb goes off in Brandon’s head. A guy like you. A hustler.
Tossing the gin bottle into the grass, he feels a surge of adrenaline, his body powered by pure rage as he draws back his fist and punches Dale square on the jaw. The defiance in her eyes is replaced by fear and shock as she staggers backwards, stunned, and almost crashes to the ground before Brandon grabs her by the shoulders and hauls her upright. His hands are on her throat now, encircling, tightening, until her eyes bulge, and then she’s pummelling his chest and shoulders, scratching his forearms, her feet lashing out at anything she can reach, until her limbs stop flailing, her eyes close and she is slack in his arms.
Panting hard, Brandon releases Dale as she slumps to the ground.
53
Susanne
Someone is beside her, rousing her from sleep. Susanne forces her eyes open, but except for a shaft of moonlight that slices through a crack in the drapes, the room is in darkness.
‘Susanne, please wake up… you’ve got to wake up.’ Evie sounds frightened, desperate.
Susanne sits bolt upright. ‘Cody!’ It’s a reflex; an instinctive part of her since the day her son was born.
‘Cody’s fine. You’ve got to come. Something awful— It’s Dale, she needs our help.’
‘What’s happened? What time is it?’
‘Not sure… but it’s well after two. Listen, something happened last night while you were out and we were going to tell you in the morning… only now it can’t wait.’
‘God, Evie, what the hell is going on?’ Susanne’s eyes are beginning to adjust as she gropes for her bedside lamp.
Evie grabs her wrist. ‘No! Leave the light off. Just listen.’
And then Susanne is wracked with confusion and horror as she strains to catch Evie’s hastily scattered words. Words that make no sense. A story – for it surely must be fiction – about Harry not being Harry, and that Dale and Evie have found a passport to prove it.
‘But Evie, who else would he be? People change their appearance, don’t they?’
‘Not that much,’ Evie hisses, producing her mobile phone and zooming in on a photograph of a youth whom Susanne has never seen before.
Susanne studies the boy’s face, taking in his soft rounded features, and swallows hard as a rush of vertigo hits her.
‘So, who have I been sleeping with all summer? I feel sick…’ Susanne shudders, but pushes her revulsion aside. ‘God, Evie. Where is Harry and what has happened to him? What the hell do we do now?’
Evie’s grip tightens on her arm. ‘I don’t know, but I heard Dale get up and I’m frightened she’ll try to confront him on her own. You know what she’s like, so brave—’
‘Or stupid, some might say.’ Susanne is out of bed now, pulling on jeans and sweatshirt, hunting around for trainers.
A thought occurs to Susanne as she ties her laces. ‘What about Star?’
‘Dale is convinced that’s Star’s in on it, too. I have to say, I agree with her. Look at the way she just appeared out of nowhere and how close they seem.’
‘Then we mustn’t wake her,’ Susanne says, before she and Evie creep through the house, holding their breath as they pass Star’s room, across the main hallway and through into the kitchen. They pause at the French doors and peer outside where the moon silhouettes Dale and the boy deep in conversation.
‘They don’t look happy… Do you think they’re arguing?’ Evie whispers.
Susanne shivers. ‘I don’t know. But Harry – or whoever he is – looks so drunk! Look at the way he’s weaving about and swigging from that bottle. Poor Dale, she was right all along. Why didn’t I listen to her?’
Evie shakes her head. ‘Don’t think about that now.’
Susanne strides through to the sitting room, suddenly decisive. ‘Evie, I’m calling the police. The number will be in Ronnie’s folder. We’ve no idea who that… person… is – or what he has done to Harry.’
Using the torch on her mobile, Susanne finds Veronica’s ring binder and there, behind a tab marked ‘IN CASE OF EMERGENCY’ is a list of phone numbers.
Then Susanne is punching out 112 as Evie hovers, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
Susanne hears the burr of a ring tone. ‘Shit! What if they only speak Italian? Oh, hello? Do you speak English? Police, please. It’s an emergency.’
There’s a click on the line, then relief courses through Susanne’s body when a male voice answers in heavily accented English.
‘Thank god,’ Susanne sighs. Then, keeping her voice low, she sums up their situation. ‘That’s right. Yes, there are three women in danger here. No, we have no idea who this man is, but we believe he’s already killed at least one person,’ Susanne looks at Evie and grimaces. ‘He has a knife – please hurry.’
‘Why did you say he has a knife?’ Evie asks.
‘To make them come quickly.’ Susanne darts back to the windows.
The boy is walking away from Dale now, in the direction of the pool, but she is keeping pace, stalking after him.
‘She’s going to have it out with him – I can just tell,’ Susanne says. ‘Come on, let’s follow.’
Keeping to the shadows, Susanne and Evie move along the terrace. Crouched down, they peer through the stone balustrade to the pool area below, listening for snatches of conversation that puncture the night air. The boy’s voice; hard-edged and mocking, as he swaggers around, and Dale’s; clear and challenging as she stands her ground.
Susanne stiffens. ‘They’re talking about Harry… about his passport… I just heard him say something like…’ Susanne trails off as she and Evie strain to catch his words.
Evie gasps. ‘His name’s Brandon!’ she whispers, trying the word out for the first time.
Then, propelled by fear, the women are on their feet, running towards the pool area as Dale, sent flying by a devastating punch, is being shaken by her throat; she struggles, raining kicks and blows on her attacker – a man who is no longer the sweet boy whom Susanne has tenderly caressed all summer, but a vicious assailant, driven by rage.
At the bottom of the steps, Susanne hesi
tates, caught in a web of fear and indecision as Dale is flung limply to the ground. But Evie powers past her, arms and legs pumping, and with a banshee wail, she flies at him from behind, landing on his back and sending them both flying into the water with a resounding splash.
‘Help me, Susanne!’ Evie cries, thrashing in the water, as Brandon bears down on her, spluttering threats; he shakes her by her shoulders, before grabbing her throat with both hands and forcing her head beneath the surface with a guttural roar.
For one frozen second, Susanne is torn between the heart-breaking sight of Dale’s inert crumpled form and Evie’s urgent need for help. Galvanised by instinct, she leaps into the water, barely registering the chill, and strikes out towards her friend. The effect of her sudden appearance shocks Brandon and he staggers back, losing his balance as he cries out her name.
Breaking the surface, Evie’s eyes are red moons of terror and desperation as Susanne roars at Brandon, a sudden wave of anger unleashed.
‘Look what you did!’ she screams, her eyes darting first to Dale’s body, then to Evie, who is scrabbling for the side. ‘I trusted you! Oh, my god, I slept with you… I… To think that I let you get between me and my oldest friend. You evil, lying bastard! I hate you!’
Brandon hesitates, a look of dazed exhaustion on his face. Susanne expects him to strike her, but instead he reaches for Evie, this time grabbing her by the hair.
Susanne leaps on his back, forcing him to release his grip on Evie. Over his shoulder, she meets Evie’s eyes. They exchange a look, the message as clear as if it has been spoken: let’s finish this. Together they grasp Brandon’s head and shoulders, forcing him below the surface. Already weakened by alcohol and exhaustion, Brandon’s struggle is brief, all resistance leaving him as he sinks beneath Susanne and Evie’s grip.
Hindered by their wet clothes and weeping, the women help each other out of the water and lie slumped and exhausted.
‘Are you both okay?’ Dale rasps, sitting up and massaging her neck, which is livid with puce finger marks. ‘I thought playing dead was my only option…’ Tears shine in her eyes.
‘Oh, my god! You’re alive!’ Susanne cries, hurling herself at Dale, before Evie drags herself over and collapses beside them and the three of them hug each other in disbelief, breaking apart only at the sound of a piercing scream.
‘Noooo! Brandon?’ Star howls, dropping to her knees beside the pool, her hands clawing her hair at the sight of Brandon’s body as it sways below the surface.
‘Star!’ Evie calls, going to her, but Star pushes her aside and with an ungainly flop, she’s in the water, before jack-knifing below and trying to gather Brandon’s dead weight in her arms.
‘Help me!’ Star shrieks, her tiny frame barely stirring Brandon’s.
‘Star, it’s no good,’ Evie cries, squatting at the side and reaching out to her. ‘We’ve already tried to help him. Please, come out, he’s gone.’
Susanne and Evie’s eyes meet. ‘She’s right,’ Susanne says, putting an arm out to Star, ‘we tried to save him. But he… he was very drunk and he must have inhaled too much water,’ she lies, willing Star to take her hand.
As Star’s strength ebbs away and her screams become a hiccupping whimper, Susanne and Evie drag her from the pool, rubbing her trembling body for warmth.
‘Star, listen to me,’ Susanne says, managing to control the bubbling hysteria that threatens to overwhelm her. ‘Harry – Brandon… whatever you knew him as – he went crazy and tried to kill Dale and Evie. We pushed him into the water to make him stop, but he was so drunk, he just… Love, I’m so sorry, I know you were good friends.’
Star is on all fours now, sobbing uncontrollably, fending off Susanne and Evie’s attempts to comfort her. She lifts her head, her face blurred by tears. ‘He’s not my friend – he’s my brother!’ she wails.
‘That explains a lot,’ Dale croaks, struggling to her feet and joining the others. ‘Star, I’m so sorry, but it’s true – he tried to strangle me.’
‘No! He wouldn’t do that!’ Star rages. ‘Brandon wouldn’t hurt anyone… not on purpose.’
Susanne shoots Dale and Evie a warning look; when she speaks, her voice is gentle, measured. ‘We know that, Star. Things just got out of hand. Tell us what happened to Harry. Please, it’s okay, we’re here for you sweetheart.’
Star chokes back tears, wiping her face on the hem of her T-shirt. She lifts her eyes to Susanne’s. ‘Harry’s dead. It was an accident. He fell off a ledge – at the monastery. Oh god, it was so awful. I wanted to get help, but Brandon said no one would believe us, that they’d think we killed him, so we just left him there on the ground,’ she finishes, dissolving into fresh sobs.
‘Christ, I knew it,’ Dale says, finding her voice again. But Susanne silences her with a look.
‘Let’s go inside – we’ve all had a terrible shock. We need blankets and sweet tea. Come on, Star, we’ve got you,’ Susanne says, as they limp back towards the house to the wail of police sirens, their blue lights electrifying the sky.
54
Susanne
Tunbridge Wells, Christmas Day, 2019
At noon the doorbell rings.
‘I’ll get it!’ Cody’s gruff voice calls out, followed by the rumble of his size-nine feet on the stairs and the sound of the front door opening.
Susanne and Dale exchange looks.
‘You know he fancies her,’ Susanne says.
‘You think?’ Dale feigns surprise before erupting into giggles.
‘Hey. Ooh, something smells yummy,’ Star says, sweeping a blast of cold air in with her, still wearing her coat and a rose-pink beanie. ‘All right, Cody?’ she says, flipping off her hat and shaking her pale hair loose.
Cody is transfixed. ‘Fine,’ he gulps, his cheeks flushing.
‘Happy Christmas,’ Evie steps in after Star and beams before hugging Susanne and Dale. She looks around, delight visible on her face. ‘Wow, Susie! You’ve been busy. It looks absolutely beautiful in here. Oh, I bought some bits and pieces from me and Star. It’s not much, just some wine and whatnots,’ she says, setting down a carrier bag of goodies.
Susanne smiles. ‘Evie, you shouldn’t have, thank you, love. Cody, take their coats, will you? Is it still trying to snow out there?’
There’s a buzz of small talk as coats are removed and hung up, and Susanne’s festive interior is admired in all its twinkling glory. And despite the fact that she’s been cooking since dawn, her kitchen is as immaculate as ever, thanks in no small part to Dale, able sous chef and washer-upper for the day.
‘Okay, a toast,’ Susanne says, filling the last champagne flute as Dale hands them round. ‘Cody and I want to thank you – Dale, Evie and Star – for choosing to spend the day with us, and making it so special.’ She raises her glass. ‘So here’s to friendship, and to a happy, healthy and joyful Christmas. Cheers, everyone.’
The room is bursting with goodwill, love and generosity. Suddenly moved, Susanne looks around at the ring of glowing faces, and marvels at how far they’ve all come in just a few months.
The night Brandon drowned had scarred all their memories, try as the women might to forget. A pair of armed response officers had escorted three well-dressed detectives who’d produced photo ID – unnecessary given the circus of marked POLIZIA vehicles parked askew across the villa’s drive.
Despite her ordeal, it was Dale who had taken charge, going into teacher mode, directing the officers outside to the pool, introducing the women by name and creating a snapshot of context for each of them.
The senior officer in charge, a woman who’d introduced herself as Claudia Vincenzi, had been otherwise tight-lipped. Two male officers had walked the house and garden, exchanging their observations in Italian before all three agents had converged on the pool terrace where the grim discovery of Brandon’s body awaited them. Then there were phone calls in Italian, and the arrival of more vehicles as forensics swarmed the scene and Brandon’s corpse had been removed.<
br />
Susanne had heard of people having out-of-body experiences, and it had happened that way as the indigo sky had ebbed away to coral, followed by a wash of morning blue; the sun rose, the birds sang, but everything had changed. Two young men were dead. And not just any young men, but the godson of her neighbour, whom Susanne would have to face at home, when (if!) the nightmare ended, and a boy whom she’d welcomed into her bed and to a degree, her heart.
The women had been questioned, separately. They’d closed ranks nonetheless, sticking rigidly to what they’d managed to piece together: that Brandon had posed as Harry after the incident at the monastery, keeping up his pretence all summer.
Susanne had admitted to being involved with him. Had she imagined one of the detectives’ mouth’s twitch at that revelation?
Then she’d described Dale’s suspicions, which had resulted in the discovery of the passport, and finally, Brandon’s desperate attempt to strangle Dale. So naturally, Susanne and Evie had done their best to help their friend. Pushing Brandon into the pool had been a reflex but then the situation had escalated as Brandon had turned on them, too, attacking Evie and holding her under the water. What choice did they have but to defend themselves against his psychotic behaviour? It wasn’t their fault that he’d suddenly gone limp in the water. Too much alcohol and the strong weed he’d smoked had seen to that. And with Susanne, Evie and Dale’s matching accounts, everything was straightforward, neat and consistent.
Only Star’s story differed as she’d wept hysterically, insisting that Brandon had never intentionally killed anyone. Harry had fallen – she’d seen it with her own eyes – and she and her brother had simply panicked. And as for Dale, she’d been winding him up for days and he’d lost his head, high on booze and the strong weed he’d been smoking. Woken by shouting, Star had gone outside to see Evie and Susanne hauling themselves from the pool after Brandon had spun out and attacked the women. And despite that, they’d tried to save him, but it was too late.
The Perfect Liar: A completely gripping thriller with a breathtaking twist Page 25