PICTURES OF YOU: a gripping psychological suspense thriller (12 page)

Chapter 37

She locked the door and put on the safety chain, set the alarm and then creaked up the stairs. The hot water in the shower hid her tears and in truth she didn’t know when the crying started but stepping out into the steamy bathroom she was wracked with great shuddering sobs. Her hair, rubbed dry with the towel would look like a rats nest in the morning but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be going to work, couldn’t with the marks on her face. She had been at the surgery for a long time and seen the cowed and frightened wives and girlfriends and had heard the excuses; cupboard doors and familiar windows suddenly and inexplicably unseen obstacles and dangerous barriers bruising and cutting tender flesh. She had heard some of the tales and read the reports and she was not going down that road.

No matter what happened there would be no lying, no making excuses. She didn’t think that she would go to the police, probably not. She could see how it would look, an older woman, lonely and desperate for attention and a young man driven by passion and hormones; they would hide the grins and deny the judgements but they would be there. Oh she had no doubt they would pay lip service, be polite, probably send an officer around to comfort and cajole and lead her to a court hearing but she wouldn’t do it. Right now, at this hour she didn’t know what she was going to do, the shock and the pain had deadened her brain and she was drifting in a strange place and didn’t know her way around.

She climbed under the covers and wrapped herself in the scent of fabric softener and sanity. Quietly in the darkness she lay with eyes closed fighting back the fears and the anguish and waiting for the dawn. Eventually she slept.

The sounds of the street woke her. For a moment the unfamiliar feel of her face, eye swollen shut, and soreness on her lips and cheekbone was puzzling and then it swept back and she knew there were things to do and quickly. She called the surgery and told them she was ill and asked for permission to take some holiday time. They were put out and sniffy but it couldn’t matter, maybe later she could tell them, the ones that could be trusted but for now the lie was almost the truth and it had to suffice.

She threw some clothes into a bag; continually she would peer through the bay window in the living room and when the gate rattled she scuttled into the corner to hide until it was clear it was only the postman. She was afraid. Though she wouldn’t stand for this, wouldn’t be a victim, she was afraid that if he came back and found her he would be violent again or maybe that he wouldn’t, that he would be tearful and bereft. If he came and told her he was sorry, that it was a moment of madness, that he didn’t know why he had done it she knew her fear would make her tell him that it was all alright, that she forgave him. It wasn’t alright, not at all and she would not forgive him ever, and to give voice to such a thought would be unbearable and so she must go away until she could make her world safe again. Right now she wasn’t sure how to do it but the first thing was to flee.

The small black travel bag sat on the landing and her soft wool coat wrapped around her like a friend. Mary stepped back into the bedroom for a last glance to make sure that nothing of importance had been overlooked and her eye caught the glint of reflection on the picture of Bill sitting on the dresser. His shining eyes and laughing mouth called to her and she crossed the floor to lift the small frame and stroke the image with a quivering finger. “What are you doing?” She heard him deep inside her ears, she heard her husband not as a ghostly whisper but as a vivid memory. Quiet and kind as he had been even when he was riven by the illness and made short-tempered by the pain, he had never turned on her, never been anything but gentle. “What are you thinking?”

Right now the need to speak to her husband and to have him hold her hand was a physical ache. They had moved into the little house about ten years before the start of his illness and they had loved it. They had decorated and improved it together and when the time came for him to die he had come home to their place. What would he think if he saw her now preparing to run away and leave it when they had faced so very much here? Bill had been brave and taken strength from the love within the walls, surely she should do that now. Facing this awful thing, why would she run?

Her eyes swept around the bright bedroom, this was her home, her haven. The things that rested in this room had meaning to her and still resonated with Bill’s touch. She didn’t want to go away, to sleep in some cold hotel and eat her meals in cafés and bars. She wanted to be here, here with the things that she loved. The new found resolve that swept her body now was absolute. She had made a mistake, Jane had been right in some of what she had said, she felt herself a fool but was not to be a coward as well. No, she would stay and face what had happened and would act, and though it would be impossible to obliterate the violence, after all the blow had fallen quite literally, now was not a time to run and hide, now was a time to fight back and to balance the scales.

She took out her digital camera and recorded photographs of her ruined face from each angle that she could manage, she shrugged off her coat and moved the bag back into the room, she would unpack later. Running to the computer she downloaded the images and saved them both on the hard drive and then on a memory stick which she placed in the very back of her desk drawer.

The plan that was forming was still a wisp in the ether but the need to put things right was strong. She went back upstairs and experimented a little with her make-up she would need to go out later, and though she couldn’t hide the bruise totally she thought that she could lessen it enough so that it wouldn’t be very visible in the dimness of her car. She turned back to the picture of Bill and kissed the end of her finger before stroking it gently against the glass. She would regain her pride and her self-respect and no violent, selfish boy would drive her from her home.

Chapter 38

The kitchen was in disarray and so, as the kettle boiled, she loaded the dishwasher and wiped the surfaces. Sunshine winked on the reflective points and the morning was bright, but as she glanced at the chairs tumbled away from the table and the dried food still smeared on spoons and pans, the whole nasty episode flooded back. She straightened her back and took in a deep breath. She had made a terrible error of judgement but was not the guilty party. What Jacob had done was wicked and such violence could never be justified. She wasn’t a vengeful person and didn’t normally hold a grudge but had never before been the victim of physical violence and it had unlocked in her something powerful and undeniable.

She glanced at the kitchen clock and was stunned to find that the morning was almost gone. The first part of her plan needed her to be outside the college when they broke for lunch and if she didn’t leave within the next few minutes it would be too late. As she made her way to the coat cupboard the phone rang and with a sinking heart she heard her mother’s voice over the answering machine. “Mary, what is going on? You didn’t call back and when I rang your work this morning they said that you were sick. Dad and I are coming down this afternoon. This is not like you, I’m quite upset.”

No, they mustn’t come, they mustn’t see her bruised and swollen face. They wouldn’t be put off with an invented story of a fall but would want to know every detail and nuance and she knew that it would be impossible to weave a convincing tale. She leapt forward and snatched up the receiver. “Mum, hi. Sorry I didn’t get back to you. To be honest that headache really was awful and it turned into a migraine.”

“I didn’t know you had migraines.”

“Well no, no I don’t, not normally but oh you know. I rang NHS direct and they reckon it could be the menopause. Anyway I’m going to take a few days off work and then when I’m back I’ll have a word with Doctor Ormerod.”

“Oh, well okay. Are you alright now though? It’s not like you to take time off work.”

“Yes, I’m fine but I’m tired you know and I thought well, rather than take sick leave I’d just take some of my holiday.”

“Well, why don’t I come down and we can go out for a look around the shops and have a bite to eat, would you like that?”

“No, no. Maybe in a day or two.” She glanced around desperately, this was getting out of hand and the more it went on the deeper she would dig. “Oh blimey mum, I’m going to have to go, I left the tap running. I’ll call you, don’t bother coming down though, really there’s no need and I’d rather have a trip out when I’m completely better.”

“Oh, well yes, go on, run. I’ll call you again this evening.”

“Great.” She hung up the phone and stood for a moment trying to clear her mind. Now she felt guilty, Mum and Dad meant well and they in their turn had done nothing but care about her and because of her involvement with Jacob she was lying and trying to avoid them. She shook her head in disbelief, life had become so complicated so very quickly. A throb started over her eyes and a genuine headache threatened. She took a couple of aspirins and checked the time again. Maybe if she hurried she could still make it.

She raised a hand to slide the chain from the little catch and the next thought struck like a blow.

He had a key.

Jacob had a key and if she left the house now there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t let himself in to wait for her. She was trapped, he had imprisoned her in her own home. Now she slid the safety chain back in place and turned the deadlock. Tears sprang to her eyes as she took a couple of backward paces to lower herself onto the bottom stair and hide her face in her hands. His influence was creeping into every part of her life now and this thing that had begun as such a thrill was a black monster threatening to destroy all that she held dear.

Chapter 39

The locks would have to be changed. The one on the back door was probably okay but the two on the front must be done quickly. She dragged out the Yellow Pages and looked for an emergency number.

“Hello, Marsden Locksmiths, can I help you?”

“Yes, I need a new lock on my front door. Someone has a key. Sorry, what I mean is someone I don’t want to come in has a key.”

“Okay, do you know what sort of lock it is madam?”

“One is a Yale I know that, with extra levers I think you call them, and then there is a mortice. Does that make sense?”

“I’ll tell you what, why don’t I send one of our locksmiths round to have a look? He’ll have some replacement parts with him but if he needs anything else we carry a very extensive stock. How urgent is it?”

“It’s urgent, there is someone out there with a key and I don’t want him being able to get in at all. I can’t go out unless I know the house is secure and I have to keep the chain on while I’m here.”

“I’ll send Barry round, he should be with you by three o’ clock, is that okay?”

“Three o’ clock, oh not sooner?”

“Well, not really that’s about the best I can do. If you are in danger your best bet really would be to call the police.”

“Yes, of course, sorry it’s just such a worry. I’ll be fine thanks; yes three o’ clock will be great.”

“I’ll ask him to get to you as soon as he can, just let me make note of your address.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” She recited the address and replaced the handset.

So, the plan had been thwarted before the first step but she could use the time to clarify her thoughts. Delay was bad, if momentum was lost there was a real danger that she would lose her nerve, plus it was essential to find Judy while her face was still obviously raw and sore.

The mobile buzzed on the table top and burst into its happy little jingle. She snatched it up and drew in a sharp breath. It was Jacob. Obviously she wasn’t going to answer it and after a dozen rings it cut off. She didn’t use the message service so his attempt at contact would come to nothing. She sat looking at the little machine.

Her landline was ex-directory but did he have the number? She wasn’t sure and the next few minutes were spent staring at the apparatus pleading silently for it to stay dumb. It did and so maybe that wasn’t going to be a problem. She didn’t want him able to leave messages but the answering machine was her way of filtering calls and she didn’t want to disable it. Yet again he was interfering in her life, worming into the simplest of things.

Maybe she should call the police after all. If she did contact them now, while her face was still swollen and sore and the proof of his violence obvious perhaps they would be able to stop him trying to contact her.

It was tempting to bring someone professional in but it would be unbearable. They may want her to have medical intervention and need a statement, perhaps they’d make her go to the police station. If she went down that road the whole nasty incident would be pretty much public knowledge and she didn’t think she could stand it. People at work would know, her friends, her parents and the rest. They would gossip and offer opinions and advice and she just couldn’t face it. After the incident with Jane she was determined that her private life would be just that until the culmination of her plan, and she knew then everything would be laid bare but hoped the satisfaction of a sort of justice would make it worthwhile.

Chapter 40

Three times he tried to call her and three times she sat staring at the glowing screen for a few brief seconds before pressing the reject call button, determined not to speak to him. She should have turned the phone off but locked into the house the way she was it felt like a lifeline. Yes, she still had the landline but felt nervous and vulnerable and needed this extra contact with the outside.

At just after two the doorbell rang and she scurried to the bay window in the living room. There was a blue van parked at the roadside and a young man in overalls standing on the step. He had turned away from the house to gaze vaguely at the garden. She could see his face clearly, this must be Barry.

“Hi, come in.” He was holding an I.D. card out to her and she took it from his outstretched hand.

“I’m Barry. You been mugged then?”

Her hand flew to her face, “Oh.”

“Sorry, but it looks pretty bad, bet that’s sore. Don’t worry though, I’ve seen worse. Lots of our customers have been mugged and when the office said it was urgent I guessed it was something like that. Buggers they are, should be left on a deserted island the lot of em.” She stood back to let him in and was shocked at the frisson of nerves that shot through her body as he brushed past. He had posed no threat and yet his very presence unnerved her. She didn’t correct his assumptions; it was easier to say nothing than to weave a complicated explanation.

He stepped into the hallway, turned and began to examine the locks on her front entrance door. “Oh yeah, I can do this no problem. Do you want me to get on with it straight away or do you want an estimate?”

“Please, just do it now, it’s fine. I have to have it done, I have to know he can’t get in.” The locksmith turned and smiled at her.

“If you give me the police crime number we can send the bill straight to the insurance company.

“You just have to try and put it behind you love. My gran was mugged, last year it was, but she’s tough. First of all she ripped the bugger’s jacket, still got away though but she said to me ‘Barry, no scum like that is going to spoil my enjoyment of life’ and she just put it behind her and got on with stuff. Yup, that’s what you have to do.

“I’ll be about an hour doing this and then do you need anything else seeing to? Windows, back gates, anything like that?”

“No, just this. He only has the key to this lock. I don’t have a number, not from the police. I’ll pay for it myself. No insurance no, if you give me a bill I can give you a cheque or if you have a card reader…”

“I ‘ope you’ve told the police, you have reported this ‘aven’t you? You really ‘ave to. I know they don’t do much but you should still tell ‘em. Still it’s your business love.

“Look you go and sit yourself somewhere nice and comfy and I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Thank you Barry.”

“Yeah.”

She sat on the settee listening to the small sounds as the locks were removed and new ones fitted, Barry hummed quietly to himself as he worked and she allowed herself to relax. The warmth in the room and the nervous exhaustion combined to lull her into a half dream and she let her head fall against the chair back. The sound of the front gate didn’t register as any sort of threat, it didn’t really register at all and it wasn’t until she heard the sound of voices she realised there was danger.

“Hello mate.”

“Hello, can I just squeeze in there?” It was him. She had dreaded this, that he might come back unannounced and to arrive now, just when the door was without a lock and she had no way to bar his entrance was monumental misfortune. She leapt from the seat and ran to the living room door.

“Barry, don’t let him in, please, stop him. Don’t let him come in.” A ludicrous frozen tableau formed. Barry, mouth gaping and screwdriver poised over the newly fitted lock had turned and behind him, one foot on the step the other still on the driveway, Jacob was staring at her. A great bunch of roses were clasped in front of him and a useless key dangled from his other hand.

“Keep him out, please Barry, keep him away from me.”