Scared to Breathe, page 24
I’ve been expecting this suggestion but not quite so soon. Kirsty loves going to busy bars and clubs and enjoys meeting people. I’m happier curled into an armchair with a book. We’re like salt and vinegar, completely different but we complement each other. It all stems back to when we were at school together and Kirsty rounded on some kids who were teasing me for spending my lunchbreaks in the library. She’d visited the library with me the next day and we’ve been firm friends ever since. When I asked her why she’d done that she’d said it was because she fancied my brother. When I told her I didn’t have a brother we’d both found the situation ridiculously funny. We’ve been close friends ever since.
‘I’m a bit knackered. Can we go to the local pub instead? We can go into town on Saturday. It might be livelier then.’
‘Okay, it’s a deal.’ Kirsty sighs and rummages in her bag for her phone. My heart sinks. I haven’t told her there’s no signal. She peers at the screen then walks to the window and holds it closer to her face to see how many bars she’s got. ‘Where’s the best place to stand to get a signal?’ she asks.
‘Erm… a mile or so down the lane.’
She looks at me agape. ‘You’re kidding.’
I don’t react.
‘You’re not kidding.’ Kirsty rolls her eyes. ‘Do you even have a landline?’
‘In the coach house. We’ve applied to the phone companies to put a mast on the land but they need to assess how many people are in the area and whether it’s commercially worthwhile.’
‘In that case there’s no way I want you to ever leave me on my own here after dark.’
‘I wouldn’t do that to you.’ I don’t want to be here on my own in the dark either. I wonder if Kirsty will witness any strange goings on or whether my mind won’t play tricks on me with her present. ‘We’ve plugged a Wi-Fi extender into the kitchen so you can get the internet. I’ve been working from there.’ I hope she doesn’t get bored here and want to go back to London. No. She’s too good a friend to do that to me, especially after my encounter with Lewis Rigby.
She nods. ‘Okay, cool. At least I can go on Facebook and Twitter.’
Since moving here I’ve been tempted to get involved in social media myself, even though I’ve avoided it for years, so that I can at least connect with other people. But I’ve been too petrified that it might help the Rigbys to find me. Kirsty unpacks her case, tossing a moulded pillow onto the bed. It makes a loud thump.
‘Bloody hell, Kirsty.’ I pick it up and examine it. ‘No wonder your suitcase weighed a ton. I’ve never felt such a heavy pillow.’
‘It’s a memory foam neck pillow. It goes everywhere with me. I can’t sleep without it.’
I find space in the sideboard for her clothes and she hangs dresses on the curtain rail. At least two of them are what I’d call ‘going out’ dresses. It feels so good to have her here. We’ll have such a laugh together. I’ll be able to sleep better tonight too.
Before I drive to the pub I stop by William’s place to introduce Kirsty to him. They shake hands politely.
‘It’s great meeting you, Kirsty,’ William says. ‘I’m pleased Tasha has got some company. Black Hollow can be a lonely place.’
I wonder for the first time if William is lonely. He doesn’t seem to have any friends but I suppose it’s difficult to socialise when you’re stuck in a wheelchair and places are inaccessible.
‘He seems friendly,’ Kirsty says as we get back in the car.
‘He’s lovely,’ I say.
The pub’s quiet when we arrive but a few locals drift in and stand at the bar.
‘Okay, how many out of ten for the guy in the padded body warmer.’ Kirsty gives me a wicked grin and I know she’s about to dissect and analyse the attractiveness of the men. Julian and Roger make their usual appearance and Kirsty leans over whispering, ‘He’s peng!’ flashing her gaze over at Julian.
‘Peng? What sort of word is that?’
‘God Tasha, you need to get out more. You know… fit, handsome.’
Julian doesn’t appeal to me one little bit but I join in our old game. I feel relaxed and happy for the first time in ages and more like my old self. I hope Kirsty stays at least a week.
Chapter 51
‘Promise me you’ll be back by eight.’ Kirsty flops onto the bed, her arms above her head. ‘I know I’ve been here three nights now and should be used to it but it starts getting shadowy and dark indoors by then.’
I move around our bedroom picking up her clothes and folding them into a neat pile. ‘I promise. Jim’s sister, Doris, won’t want us visiting for long. She’ll be worried about her cats being scared away by Bonnie. They hide up the lane when the dog is in the house.’ I’m looking forward to seeing Jim’s face when we walk in with his dog. ‘We won’t be late and as it’s Saturday the traffic will be lighter.’
Kirsty could have come with us but she said she has a friend in the area today and he’s going to call in. I’m not sure whether I believe her. Kirsty changes her men as often as she changes her handbag but how has she organised it with no phone signal? She might have done it through Facebook but I worry she’s meeting up with Adrian. I’d feel partly responsible if she damaged his marriage. I’ve noticed her chatting and laughing with him a few times and when I approach them he looks sheepish and rushes off. I can’t decide if he’s feeling guilty about spending time with her or knows he should be working.
I give her a brief hug before I leave. ‘It’s so great having you here, Kirsty. I hope you can stay a few more days.’ I worry she’ll get bored and clear off home like she did once before when a group of us hired a remote cottage in Norfolk for a week.
‘I’ll probably stay until Tuesday,’ she says and squeezes me back.
Yay! Three more days, and Reuben will be back on Wednesday. Surely by then I should feel able to stay on my own for one night without worrying about strange noises and things that go bump in the night. The past few nights have been uneventful which rather confirms that it’s anxiety that’s been making me jump at nothing.
Kirsty sits up abruptly. ‘Hey, if you go near any food shops can you get some iced doughnuts and maybe some pizzas? I’m craving junk food after all the healthy stuff you make me eat.’
I laugh. It’s been too hot to eat anything but salads and fresh fruit. ‘I will as long as you promise not to up sticks and bugger off like you did in Norfolk.’
Kirsty laughs. ‘I promise, but only if you promise to get back before dark. See you later.’
As I leave the room I notice the box of old photographs. Kirsty and I spent a companionable hour last night going through them. I wanted to look at pictures of my mother again now that Bob has confirmed it is her and it was good to have someone to talk to. I’d stared at Sally’s face for ages.
‘You look like her,’ Kirsty had said. ‘Your hair’s different but you have the same eyes and heart-shaped face.’
I’d felt strangely warmed by this, as though a connection with my past had been securely tied. I’m going to call the police on Monday to see if they have any more news on identifying the body. I’m convinced it’s my mother now and I even got a bit tearful last night. Kirsty was great, though. She’d hugged me and told me to wait until we found out who it was.
‘The skeleton might belong to a soldier from the civil war for all we know!’ she’d said.
The air is a lot cooler when I step outside. It seems the heatwave has skulked out the back way rather than making a dramatic exit through the front door with a crash. I’m glad. I hate thunderstorms now. I’m a few minutes early for Bob. Bonnie dances figure of eights around my legs as Bob walks slowly but steadily to the car. He’s had his cast removed and resting has improved his knee so he’s feeling quite sprightly.
‘I’m so looking forward to this, Tasha. Jim will be thrilled to see Bonnie.’
‘And you,’ I add.
The journey is straightforward although I can feel tension building in my arms and shoulders as we cross the county boundary into Bedfordshire. I know I’ll be at least fifteen miles away from Luton but the fear won’t go away. Aspley Guise turns out to be a pretty little village, with its square of quaint, gabled houses and quiet lanes steeped in history.
‘A lot of people who worked at Bletchley Park were stationed here,’ Bob says. ‘Some houses were requisitioned as headquarters for senior war officials.’ Bob and Jim were children during the Second World War and they love to talk about it. ‘Jim and Doris were evacuated to Aspley Guise and they had a wonderful time here. That’s why Doris wanted to come back and live here.’
Bonnie is ecstatic when she sees Jim and his face lights up like a Christmas tree. She climbs onto his lap and not even food will persuade her to get off again. Jim and Bob settle down for a game of dominoes so I head to the shops in Woburn Sands to get some treats for Kirsty.
When I get back I’m surprised to find Doris preparing us a meal.
‘You will stay, won’t you? Jim is so enjoying himself it’s a shame to cut the visit short on his birthday.’
I glance at my watch. It’s already 5pm and it’s at least a two-hour drive. I promised Kirsty I wouldn’t leave her alone in the dark but I can’t drag Bob and Jim’s dog away so soon, especially as Doris has made such an effort. I look at Jim’s happy face. ‘That would be lovely,’ I say.
The meal takes a lot longer than I’d anticipated. I check the time again and silently will Bob to eat faster. As Doris rinses the plates in the kitchen I tell Bob we need to go soon, and get up to help Doris, but before I get there she appears in the doorway, her face illuminated by candlelight. A simple sponge cake is adorned with numerous candles stuck in blue icing words – ‘Happy Birthday Jim.’ I sit down again and we all sing. At this rate it will be dark before we get home. The cake is cut and eaten with frustrating slowness. Jim is tearful when he says goodbye to his dog and I can see pain and guilt flicker across Doris’s face.
‘Thank you for bringing them,’ she says quietly after I’ve helped Bob into the car and strapped a reluctant Bonnie into her harness. ‘I feel bad but I’ve already given up my independence to look after Jim. I couldn’t give up my cats as well. They’re the love of my life. If only Bonnie didn’t chase them…’
I touch her arm and thank her for dinner, promising to visit again some time. I’m worried about Kirsty now. I can’t even call her to tell her I’m running late.
It’s dark by the time I return to Black Hollow and I’m dismayed to see no lamplight coming from the windows. I’m certain the heavy curtains don’t block it out that well. I get a torch from my glovebox and enter the deserted hallway with trepidation.
‘Kirsty?’
Silence.
I push open the dining room door. There’s no sign of her. I hurriedly switch on some lamps and feel a small measure of relief as the room becomes bathed in a warm glow. I look around and suck in my breath. Kirsty’s belongings have gone. The piles of clothes I’d folded this morning, the tumble of shoes by the door and the scattering of make-up across the sideboard – all gone. I sit down heavily on the bed, my limbs weighed down with disappointment. Has she gone off in a strop because I was late home? But how did she leave? She couldn’t have dragged that bloody great suitcase along the drive? Did she use the coach house phone to call a taxi? Or did she go off with the man she was meeting? Kirsty is a dear friend and a lovely person but she does have the occasional mood swing. Maybe she’s sulking because I wasn’t home before dark. I go straight to the coach house and call her mobile but there’s no reply so I leave a voicemail. I’ll have to try again first thing tomorrow.
I get ready for bed quickly – I’ll wait until morning to have a shower – and check the bolts on the doors, then drag the chest of drawers across the doorway. I’ll sleep with the lights on. I lie down in the wide bed and stretch my arm out to the empty space, then sit up in surprise.
Kirsty’s favourite pillow is still here. The one she never goes anywhere without. She really must have been in a temper when she went if she’s left this behind.
I try to sleep but the fox is screaming in the woods again, making the hairs on my arms stand up. I’ll never get used to that terrible sound.
Chapter 52
I doze fitfully, alert to any sound. Did I hear footsteps outside? Is Kirsty back? I tense and strain my ears, waiting. There’s a tapping sound on the window. Is it a loose tendril of wisteria blowing in the wind? This time it’s a knocking sound. My heart thumps and I hold my breath. Surely Kirsty would knock on the front door. She wouldn’t want to frighten me like this. Or is she playing a trick on me? I slip out of bed and pull on my dressing gown. I turn off the lamps so I can see outside then pad silently over to the window. It’s fine, Tasha. There’s nothing to be scared of. It’s probably Kirsty pratting about. She’ll be standing there with her legs crossed laughing hysterically. I draw the curtain cautiously to one side then scream in horror.
A man has his face up to the glass and he’s grinning at me. I drop the curtain and step back but his features are branded on my retinas and I can still see his shaven head, thick neck and small, hard eyes. His teeth are yellow and uneven and he has a gold earring in his left ear. Who is he?
I can hear him laughing now. Is this the same laugh I heard a couple of weeks ago on the night of the storm? It doesn’t sound like it. I’m petrified. My heart races and I feel light-headed. What shall I do? Hide in the cupboard? No, he knows I’m here. He’s rattling the handle on the French doors now. I can’t breathe. What if he tries to break one of the small panes of glass? At least there’s no key in the door to tempt him. The rattling stops and time crawls by as I wrap my arms around my shins and wait for further sounds. Hopefully, he’s given up and gone.
A sudden, heavy pounding on the front door reverberates through the hall and I whimper in fear. I don’t know what to do. I can’t stay here. I leap up, throw on a robe and shove my feet in my shoes then grab my torch and rush to the kitchen. I shine it around the room looking for the knife block. There are five slots but only four knives. Damn. Where has the big one gone? I pull the next biggest knife from the block and grab a small pot of white pepper from the worktop, then go through the scullery to the back door. Dare I attempt a sprint across the courtyard to the coach house so I can call the police? It’s only a few yards away and the trespasser is right around the front of the building. I hesitate. I’m too scared to go forward but I’m just as scared of staying here.
I slide the bolt back quietly and turn the key. It makes a small click. I can’t hear the front door from here but hopefully he’s still there, waiting for me. I open the door and shine my torch around.
Nothing.
Go, Tasha! Run. I pull the door closed, then run on tiptoes across the yard to the coach house. I fumble with the keys as I daren’t let go of the knife. Shit, shit, shit! At last I find the right one and get it into the lock. Thank God. I’m about to push the door open when an arm wraps itself across my windpipe, stifling my scream. My knife clatters to the ground.
I pull at his arm with both hands to free my throat so I can breathe; my mind shattering into fragments in my panic. ‘Help me!’ I want to cry, but there’s no one to help even if I could get the words out.
‘Where’s Simon?’ a rough voice whispers in my ear.
Simon? I’m torn between relief that it isn’t me he wants and terror that Simon might be close. Not that I’m free from terror now. Far from it.
I aim my heel at his shin but he pulls me sideways and laughs.
‘I like a bit of fight in a woman,’ he murmurs into my ear.
Dear God no. ‘Please don’t hurt me,’ I manage to rasp. ‘I’ve never seen Simon. He’s in prison.’
‘Not anymore, he isn’t. He told me he was coming here. He owes me and this place must be worth a bleedin’ fortune. Who the hell are you? His fancy piece?’
The man loosens his grip but not enough for me to get away. He turns me around then pins me roughly against the wall, his forearm pressed across my chest and ready to slide up to my throat at a whim.
‘He’s my uncle but I’ve never met him.’ My speech is fast and high-pitched. ‘I inherited this place a few months ago.’ I stare at his empty eyes, no compassion or emotion in them apart from a spark of anger.
‘He told me he was coming into big money. I did a good piece of work for him and now he owes me. He’ll be back and when you see him tell him Gripper wants payment for the Kensington job.’
Kensington? That was where… Pain shoots through my knee as he pushes me to the ground. My fingers connect with something – my knife! – but by the time I’ve stumbled to my feet he’s gone. I rush into the coach house and slam and lock the door. I press William’s number into the phone with shaking fingers.
‘William, someone’s been here looking for Simon. He said Simon owes him money. He… he grabbed me by the throat. I couldn’t… it was horrible. I couldn’t breathe.’ I’m starting to cry and my words are getting jumbled.
‘Where are you? In the coach house? Where did he go?’
‘Yes. I don’t know.’ I’m sobbing uncontrollably now.
‘Wait there. I’m on my way.’ The phone line goes dead.
I sit on the damp floor with my back against the wall, pulling out hairs to soothe myself, my mind replaying what just happened. When I get to the moment when I took the knife from the block I suddenly recall the empty slot. This man didn’t threaten me with a knife and the door was locked so he couldn’t get in. If he didn’t take it, where is it?
Chapter 53
‘Tasha. It’s William. Open the door.’
