What Goes Around: A chilling psychological thriller (23 page)

‘Who?’ I say.

‘Mrs Patterson. Bruiser’s gone missing.’

‘Oh, no!’

‘She’s really upset. He’s been gone for four days.’

‘Four days. That’s longer than usual.’ I turn to Francis and explain about Mrs Patterson and her cat. ‘Bruiser’s her whole life,’ I say. ‘He’s quite a personality. Everyone knows him but he was especially fond of our garden. He must be ten or eleven now because she got him just before her husband died. He’s been a bit of a wanderer in the past but he’s never been gone for more than forty-eight hours.’

‘I was round the corner visiting the Murrays,’ Ben says. ‘They send their love, by the way. And then when I was going to meet Archie at the pub, Mrs Patterson was on the corner by the park calling for him. She was in tears.’

‘Poor love.’

‘I took her home and said I’d help her make up some flyers to tape onto the lamp-posts. We had to go to Dad’s to print them out and it was all kicking off again.’

‘What was it about this time?’ I say, not expecting what comes next.

‘Apparently Leila couldn’t find a box that has some jewellery in it.’

I stiffen and feel my face going a telltale red, so I bend down to the floor and neaten Ben’s shoes at the side of the sofa.

‘Dad didn’t even seem to know what box she was talking about but Leila was positive it was in the walk-in wardrobe. She was in a right state about it.’

‘I expect it will turn up,’ Francis says, super-casual. ‘Things always do.’ The lacquer box is on the sideboard behind Ben’s head and Francis leans across to cover it with a tea towel. I would give him a grateful glance but I am frozen with disbelief. The jewellery box wasn’t hers and neither was the jewellery inside it! Why on earth would she make such a fuss?’

‘Then it all went a bit Jeremy Kyle,’ Ben says. ‘Dad was convinced Katarina had stolen it but Leila was adamant it wasn’t her.’ Ben goes on to tell us that Leila refused to tell Tom who she thought it was and he kept pushing her to say that if it wasn’t Katarina then it had to be some bloke who’s been hanging around, a client of hers. ‘Katarina told them she’d seen a woman in the driveway and Dad started to question her like she was a hostile witness. Mrs Patterson and I left them to it and went to put up the flyers. When we were outside she said to me, I don’t want to speak ill of your dad but your mum really is better off without him.’

Ben stops talking at last, distracted by the mobile in his pocket. He jumps up and begins a lively conversation with the person on the other end, leaving the room as he does so.

I stare at Francis and Francis stares at me. ‘What the hell?’ I say. ‘Francis, it’s not her box! Nor is it her jewellery.’

‘Sounds like there’s more to the story than we know,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’

‘Hang on!’ I have a sudden light-bulb moment that makes my brain tingle. I didn’t look in the secret drawer! Perhaps for some reason she put her jewellery in there. I throw the tea towel aside and press the hinge joint to pop open the drawer. My breath stops when I see what’s inside. Unlike my jewels, these pieces are clearly worth money. There is a necklace, a bracelet and a pair of earrings. The gold is rich and mellow. The stones are precious: sapphires, some diamonds, aquamarines and others I don’t know the names of.

‘Look Francis!’ I pass him the necklace and he holds it parallel to his face and watches as the stones catch the light and shimmer.

‘Boy oh boy,’ he says. ‘This is worth something.’

‘There’s a bracelet and earrings as well.’

We both stare at the pieces. ‘I can see why she was upset,’ Francis says.

‘I’ll have to return them. I’ll do what I did yesterday. I’ll watch for them going out and then I’ll put the pieces through the letter box.’ My hand shakes as I take the necklace from him. ‘It never even occurred to me that she might have put something of hers in there otherwise I would have checked before I left Maybanks.’ My anxiety starts to build and I reach over to pull the kettle plug out of its socket. ‘Sorry,’ I say to Francis. ‘This has got to me. I know how much I wanted my gran’s jewellery back and now I’ve taken hers. It’s probably her mother’s.’

‘Well … first of all,’ Francis says. ‘This can be put right.’ I go to speak and he places a finger on my lips. ‘And second of all, if you give me the address, I will drop the pieces off for you.’

‘No … thank you. I don’t want you to be implicated. What if you were caught?’

‘It’s unlikely I’d be caught. It would all be over in seconds.’

‘That isn’t fair on you. I did it; I need to put it right.’

‘Your call,’ he says, his expression serious. ‘But the offer is there.’ I can see that he’s reached his threshold and I know I’m right when he says, ‘I don’t believe this is you, Ellen. I believe you’re better than this.’

‘You’re right.’ I nod.

He brings me in for a hug. ‘I think you need to backtrack before this gets out of hand. What if they get the police involved? What if Katarina is questioned and accused? How would you feel then?’

Francis is another Chloe – and that’s no bad thing. He is decent and moral, and I can only agree that police involvement is not what I want. I will return the jewellery – but I’m not going to do it immediately because the temptation to make Leila suffer for that bit longer is irresistible. I want to go to my next appointment and see her rattled. I want to feel like I’m winning.

‘I said I’d look after Molly for a couple of hours this morning and then I’ll go to Maybanks to drop off the jewellery. I expect they’ll go out for Sunday lunch. Tom always liked doing that.’ I hug Francis’s back as he finishes drying the dishes. His heart is close to my ear and I listen to its steady rhythm, knowing that I’ve just lied to him.

My dad is a member of a walking club and they’ve set off to walk along the cycle path from Leith to Colinton. He’s taken his flask of tomato soup and his cheese and pickle sandwiches and waved goodbye. Molly and I weed the garden and plant some herbs, then we make a big pot of vegetable soup and read storybooks until Chloe and Jack come home. They went to brunch with Jack’s new boss and expected to be back by one, but it’s gone three by the time they get in.

‘So sorry, Mum!’ Chloe says, her cheeks flushed. ‘But we all got on like a house on fire. Didn’t we Jack?’

‘We did.’ Molly has already managed to climb onto her dad’s shoulders and is covering his eyes with her hands. ‘They’re good people. And they have a munchkin like you, Molly moll.’ He swings her round into his arms and she gives a shriek of pleasure.

‘I’ll be off then.’ I do the round of kisses. It’s great to see them so happy together but I’m keen to get going. I need to get down to Maybanks. I’ve no intention of giving back the jewellery yet but I feel drawn to the house – I’m pleased that Tom and Leila are at loggerheads. Will I be able to tell from the outside of the house that there is turmoil inside? ‘Sorry to rush but I have people to see, dogs to buy.’

‘I know the sort of dog you’re talking about,’ Chloe says, winking. ‘Fabulous Francis.’

I laugh. ‘I’m not seeing him until tomorrow.’

‘You buying a dog, Grannie?’ Molly shouts. ‘Could you buy one for me too?’

‘It’s just an expression, Mol,’ I hear Jack say as Chloe follows me outside to my car.

‘Thanks for today, Mum.’ She gives me a hug. ‘And I’m really glad things are looking up for you. You deserve to be happy.’

She waves me off and I wave back, for all the world just like any other grandmother on her way home after babysitting. I drive down Hanover Street towards Trinity, making my mind up to be brazen and drive right past Maybanks, no hiding, no pretending, just a straightforward drive-by. Unless Tom and Leila are standing in the front garden I should be able to get away with it. My heart is somersaulting as I turn into the road and I have to resist the urge to slump down in my seat and hold a hand up to the side of my face. I don’t slow down. I continue at a steady twenty-five miles an hour, glancing briefly to my left when I pass Maybanks. The house looks exactly the same as it did yesterday and I feel the slump of disappointment. What was I expecting? A banner declaring the theft? I shake my head at my own childishness. I need to bide my time – just a little while longer. Tuesday is only two days away and I’m already counting the hours.

Tom was up and out of the house early this morning. I’ve no idea where he’s gone and I’m not about to massage his inflated ego by calling him to find out. He hasn’t spoken to me since last night when I discovered the jewellery box was missing. I know he’s convinced I’m hiding something from him and he’s right, I am; and I’ll continue to do so because he’s neither sympathetic nor empathetic and he’d never understand my relationship with David, no matter how hard I tried to explain it to him.

David has the jewellery – of that I am sure – and therefore he must be colluding with someone. It’s not the first time he’s found sneaky ways to infiltrate my life. Ten years ago when Alex and I were living on the outskirts of Leeds, he spent two months cultivating a friendship in order to have access to my flat. The flat was on the third floor of a converted flour mill in a beautiful setting close to the river. It was perfect for Alex because there was a comprehensive play area with tennis and basketball courts and there were several single parents living in the building so we were able to share childcare. David befriended the caretaker-cum-gardener over a game of poker in the local pub. Next thing, he was doing odd jobs for him and then before I knew it he was in my front room telling my boyfriend all about me. My boyfriend was called Mitchell and I distinctly remember his face as I entered the living room. He stared at me as if he literally didn’t know who I was.

Aside from Tom and myself, there are only two people who could have told David about me visiting Alex in rehab and either let David into Maybanks or given him the jewellery: Katarina or Ben.

I find Katarina in the kitchen. ‘I won’t be angry with you,’ I say, and at once she looks anxious.

‘I am sorry. I clean the oven yesterday but—’

‘It’s not about the oven.’

‘Tom is angry and I tell him—’

‘It’s not about Tom either. I simply need you to be honest.’ I step towards her and her eyes widen. ‘Have you seen my brother since you let him inside the house?’

‘Yes. I see him but I do not talk to him.’

‘Where was he?’

‘Outside.’

‘Did he ask you to get something for him?’

‘No, no. I do not take jewels.’ She is emphatic. ‘I do not steal.’ She stamps her foot. ‘I do
not
.’

I believe her. She doesn’t flinch from eye contact, and she’s obviously insulted that I could consider her a thief. She might be a bit distant and dreamy sometimes but I have never suspected her of snooping or stealing.

‘And you didn’t tell him that I was visiting Alex yesterday?’

‘No. Of course not. You tell me not talk to him.’

That only leaves Ben. He was in the house on Friday and could have taken the pieces then. I expect he’d be quite happy to make my life more difficult and I know that Chloe would be pleased with him. But there’s nothing I can do about it at the moment.

Several of my sweaters and blouses have been cut with scissors, jagged holes that are impossible to repair. And my shoes. Three pairs ruined. I’m less concerned about replacing the clothes and shoes than I am about what this says about David’s state of mind. This type of spiteful behaviour isn’t like him and I’m unsure what to make of it. We’re not due to meet until Wednesday when we go to visit Gareth, but I’ll be on edge until then. After his stunt turning up at the Bridge yesterday, who knows where he will appear next.

I spend the afternoon tidying out my wardrobe, separating the damaged garments from the untouched. I still haven’t heard from Tom so I decide not to make Sunday lunch but to take a bottle of wine upstairs and lie in the bath. It’s something I almost never do but I need to do now: candles, warm bubbles, a glass of cold white wine.

I put the plug in the bath and run water over expensive bath oil that bubbles up, releasing the smell of roses into the bathroom. Me-time. That’s what other women call it. Normal women. Women who don’t have their past creeping up behind them, making ready to pounce, to smother them in a memory blanket.

I don’t make it as far as the bath because as soon as I begin to undress I’m reminded of the scratches on my arm. They are almost but not quite healed. I touch the skin either side of the raised marks and I shiver. Why pretend, Leila? Why pretend? I turn off the water and sit down on the tiles, wedging myself between the bath and the toilet, and open the wine. I drink half of it, straight from the bottle. My stomach is empty and I feel the effect almost at once.

I close my eyes and give myself permission.
Relax. Remember. Conjure up Leila Mae. She might even be able to help you.

My fourteenth birthday.

‘How will you be celebrating your birthday, Leila?’ Miss Tiptree asks me. She is a young, pretty teacher with big brown eyes and a small nose. She fusses about her wall displays, making neat little ribbon bows to pin beside the names of the children who are achieving well. She is my form teacher but she is utterly clueless about my life.

I arrive home from school to see David curled up on the armchair, legs and arms pulled into his body and his face hidden from view. Gareth is standing by the window and when I come into the room he turns towards me. He has the quality of a fairytale creature – the creature children are warned to avoid – rather than a human being. He has ash-grey eyes, the colour of incinerated bones. His hands are always damp with sweat as if he’s just crawled out of a swamp. David and I imagine that he is really a lizard who’s been given a man’s body made from leftover bits that make him look almost, but not quite, human.

‘I’ve been waiting for you, Leila Mae,’ he says. ‘I have a special surprise for you this evening.’ David’s body jerks as if he’s falling into a deep sleep but I know that he isn’t. He’s been hoping for invisibility and now that I’m back he has it. Outside of home, he’s often in trouble for picking fights and bullying other boys but when he comes through the front door, he shape-shifts from lion to lamb. ‘Come with me.’ Gareth holds out his hand and I step forward because the sooner we get this over with the sooner I’ll be able to go to my room. I touch the base of my skull and sense a stirring inside the bone like the first small plumes of smoke from a newly made fire.