I expected the house to be near the beach. In those long hours as a child when I’d fantasise about being there with Katie, my only lifeline in the shite of my existence, I’d always imagined the front door opening straight on to the sand with the sun blazing down as if on some tropical island rather than an English seaside resort where the air smells of salt and cheap fried food. It’s not near the sea though. It’s not even in the town proper, but out towards the countryside.
The drive up is more of a track and the house looms ahead of me. It’s stylish, large and almost deco. More modern than it should look given its age. When was it built? Maybe 1920s? I pause, and consider my options. The front door will be open. What’s she afraid of, that if I ring the doorbell and she answers, I’ll thrust a knife into her chest before she has a chance to speak? She wouldn’t be wrong, but I’m not planning on stabbing her fatally. I just want to disable her, to be sure I can find Ava.
From where I’m standing, a little to the right of the building, I study it for signs of cameras marking any movement. I can’t see any. Maybe she’s got one over the door so she’ll know when I’m here. The windows, black pools in the gloom, give nothing away. Perhaps there are closed blinds or curtains on the inside; I can’t tell from this distance. There’s no way around to a back door, the garden cut off by a high fence. She’s given me no choice. Go in, following her instructions, or go away and call the police. If I go in, she’s going to try to kill me. If I leave, she’ll kill Ava. Katie, the ringmaster. Katie the planner.
My hands are sweating. Ava’s in there, I know it. Ava and Katie, waiting for me. She promised she’d let her go, I tell myself. It’s not Ava she wants. I think about Daniel. About what I did. About the weight I’ve carried all these years. Saving Ava is all that matters. If I have to die in the process and end all this, so be it. Still, I pull the knife out and grip the handle tight.
It’s eerily quiet as I come up the drive, just the patter of rain in the bushes around me and the hushed whisper of my shoes on the gravel. My eyes dart everywhere, looking for something or nothing. A threat unseen. She won’t kill you straight away, I tell myself. She wants to talk. She has catching up to do. This is my advantage. I know it. If I can rush her, get my knife in her, weaken her, then I have a chance.
There are three pale steps to the bright white front door and I take a deep breath and reach forward to push it open. I tentatively cross the threshold, leaving the door open behind me. It’s cold inside and although the wooden floorboards are polished and sleek, the empty, abandoned scent of the building takes me straight back to the house on Coombs Street. A few pictures, some abstract modern art, are still hanging, and a dresser is pushed up against one wall, but they are forgotten items, uncared for. More expensive than the debris of the ruined house on Coombs Street, but the same. Time is folding in on itself. No, I correct myself. Time is always folded in on itself, the past like shadows we can’t shake off, and now I feel them surrounding me, wraiths drawing in to choke me. Katie, Daniel, Tony, Ma.
It’s a large open hallway, a room of its own, made more vast by the lack of furniture. Up ahead, a staircase climbs into darkness. The windows are shuttered, only splinters of grey light coming in from outside. I can hear my own breath. What now?
I take a step forward, and then another. No figures lurking in the corners. No one here with me. Should I go upstairs? Where’s the next clue, Katie? What are you expecting from me here?
She appears so suddenly, a shimmering figure in front of me, that I gasp and stumble backwards. Katie, but as she was as a child. A ghost of my Katie there on the bottom step. What is this? is all I have time to think before the floor somehow disappears beneath me.
A magician’s house, remember? Katie’s voice whispers in my head. Full of tricks.
I walked straight into it. Dumb, stupid Charlotte. I feel a web around me and then a sickening thud as my head hits concrete and the world goes black.
68
MARILYN
They’ve kept my phone but at least I’m out.
‘Thank you,’ I say. Simon Manning is there, waiting with the car. I wonder how much this afternoon has cost him for the lawyer. I could cry with gratitude. ‘They still may charge me, but for now, I’m a free woman. I’ve told them I’m staying at the hotel. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘Of course. Get in.’ He looks past me at Bray, who’s come outside and lit a cigarette. ‘Don’t worry. She won’t be absconding.’
‘I’m sure she won’t. We’ve got people going through CCTV from Elleston train and bus stations looking for Charlotte. Hopefully we’ll find something in it and this fiasco won’t cost any more lives.’
I can hear them, but I’m not listening. Something else has got my attention. Another car, parked discreetly across the road, a figure in the shadow behind the wheel. Richard.
‘All I want is a long shower and to sleep,’ I mutter, turning back to them. ‘So can we go?’
Richard. This is all I need. How did he know I was here? He doesn’t get out of his car, but as we pull away, so does he.
‘Does anyone know the police took me in?’ I try and make it sound nonchalant.
‘Everyone, I’m afraid.’ He glances over at me. ‘It was on the news.’
I groan and lean back in the seat. ‘How?’
‘It wasn’t Bray. She wanted it kept quiet in case Lisa got in touch. I think it was Karen Walsh, that stuck-up bitch. Don’t worry, she’s all but fired already.’
‘Thanks for this,’ I say. In the side mirror I see Richard’s car weaving along behind, staying close but not too close.
‘I’ve been busy too,’ Simon says. ‘I’ve got a team of forensic accountants, lawyers and private detectives working at digging into the Batten family and specifically what Katie did with their assets. Turns out there is a mess of paperwork. Identities hiding behind a maze of offshore companies and accounts. They were pretty well off, but not so much anything like that was necessary. Anyway, one thing this amount of paper trail tells me – someone is hiding something.’
‘Like the fact they’re not dead?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Skegness,’ I say. ‘Katie’s family had a house in Skegness. I think that’s where Lisa’s gone. I didn’t tell the police. I didn’t want them to get there and find Lisa before she got to the house. I know it’s stupid but they don’t—’
‘It’s okay. I believe you. I believe her. I’ll find …’ He pauses, glancing sideways, catching my eyes straying nervously to the mirrors.
‘What is it?’ He frowns. ‘The police?’
I shake my head. ‘Worse. My husband.’
He says nothing but his jaw tightens as he slows the car, turning off the main road.
‘What are you doing? Ignore him.’ I’m panicking and I don’t know why. Ignore him. Like it’s that easy. Simon’s still slowing and as soon as a lay-by appears, he pulls into it.
‘Don’t,’ I say, my voice a nervous whine I detest. ‘Let’s just go to the hotel. Come on.’ I don’t want Richard to hurt him. Richard’s done enough damage.
‘Wait here.’ He doesn’t look at me as he gets out of the car.
I want to shrivel into my seat, but I have to look, opening the window and twisting around to peer out. Richard’s out of the car, a bundle of rage. I know the stance of his body, I know the look on his face when the mask falls away.
‘Are you fucking my wife?’ His words are clear and I cringe as he squares up to Simon, who’s walking casually towards him. His fists are balled tight. He’s going to lose it completely. ‘I said, are you fucking my fat bitch of a wife?’ My stomach turns to water and I want to throw up. He’s going to kill Simon and then he’s going to drag me out of this car by my hair and kill me.
Simon moves so fast, I can’t register what’s happening. He doesn’t speak but suddenly his hands are out of his pockets. Richard barely has time to look surprised as the precise blows to his ribs and gut hit him, short and sharp and powerful. He crumples, gasping for breath. Without saying a word, Simon turns and returns to the car at the same steady pace.
I stare at him, almost as breathless as my husband lying on the tarmac a few feet behind us.
‘Now he knows how it feels to have a few broken ribs,’ he says calmly, the car purring away beneath us.