It wasn’t enough for you to harvest lemon balm, mint, rose petals; make forget-me-not memories. Back at Gran’s, with the place to yourself, you had a new agenda; freedom to open the curious locked door, behind which Gran distilled nature’s magic.
On a dusty shelf, you found the rows of tiny bottles with faded labels, filled with the elixir of life. Next, you sought the small black book, the wisdom on its pages headed love, luck, providence, prosperity. The love spell that was on the first page, of pink, red and white rose petals, the essence of rosemary and hazel; about sage and lotus flowers for wisdom and purity. The essence of digitalis and belladonna that was darkness, the words scrawled in Gran’s spidery handwriting; the bottle, waiting for you to find it, out of sight.
Kimberley told him about Gran’s fury as she snatched the book from you. Her face white with rage, her hands shaking. How dare you … Don’t you know you can’t steal a gift that doesn’t belong to you?
But you can’t return a gift that’s been carved into your mind. One that would stay with you always. But there was more you didn’t know. About the alchemist’s curse, about the significance that lay not just in essence, but in intent. Meant to heal, to soothe, with only the best of intention. Not arrogantly, misguidedly, selfishly, tipping alchemic scales, that would go on swinging until one day, what you’d done would be redressed.
Amy
Chapter Fifteen
It’s another cold morning when the air barely moves, the sun silvery behind a thin layer of cloud, as I stand in limbo amongst frozen banks of chamomile and creeping thyme. The silence broken when my phone buzzes with a call from Jess.
‘Mum, I’m worried about you. I can’t stop thinking about what’s happened.’ Jess sounds flustered. ‘Nothing makes sense. I’m coming back at the weekend. I need to talk to you.’
The sense of urgency in her voice fills me with alarm. ‘Jess, there’s no need. You’ve only just gone back to uni. And I’m fine. The police are still investigating, and it’s time for me to start moving on.’
‘It isn’t just that.’ She hesitates. ‘We’ve been studying a book about a psychopath. He pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes – like his wife, the police, his whole family … Mum, I know you won’t like this, but in so many ways, he reminds me of Matt.’
I’m stunned, then horrified. ‘I know you mean well, Jess, but this isn’t helpful. Cath’s Oliver … maybe. But whatever Matt’s done, he’s no psychopath. If he was, I’d have noticed.’
She’s silent for a moment. ‘I’m not so sure. Don’t draw any conclusions. Not until we’ve talked. I’ll bring the book.’ Her voice is small as she adds, ‘Be careful, Mum.’
Her words take me by surprise. ‘Of course I will. You too, honey.’
Her call unsettles me, then as I look around the kitchen, a memory blazes into my mind, of when Matt first moved in. The walls had been ochre, the floor covered in green carpet. After ripping them up, he’d wanted to repaint the walls in neutral colours, insisting on his choice of rug for the newly sanded floorboards, replacing them in the kitchen with dark slate. He had clear ideas about furniture, too, changing the sofas Jess and I had had for years, for expensive new ones. I’d been slightly shocked at how emphatic he was, how easily he spent money, but I’d told myself change was good. I’d got too used to it being just me and Jess. Now, it was his home too.
But no matter how I try to rationalise things, Jess’s words play on repeat in my mind. Matt pulled the wool over my eyes, there’s no question. And she’s trying to help, I know that, but being a liar doesn’t make him a psychopath.
Looking across the garden, taking in the leaves scattered on the ground, I get my coat. Since Matt disappeared, my usual motivation has been absent and my garden has been somewhat neglected. Going outside, after raking them up, I fetch the wheelbarrow, loading it up from the mountain of recently delivered compost.
By the time I wheel it to the new flowerbeds, my hands are cold from the frost on its handles, that’s melted and re-frozen, sticking my gloves to them. But I go on. Digging is hard work, but I force myself to the point it hurts, only the fading light stopping me, when I’m too exhausted to go on.
*
That evening, while I’m heating up my supper, Jess calls again.
Picking up my phone, I force an air of brightness. ‘Hi, Jess. Is everything OK?’ It’s unusual to hear from her twice in one day.
‘It isn’t me I called about.’ She sounds agitated. ‘I wanted to check you’re OK.’ She hesitates, before adding, ‘Have you heard anything more from the police?’
‘No – but they said they’d be in touch if they find anything.’
‘I’ve been thinking, Mum. We ought to start our own investigation – into Matt’s past.’
I interrupt her. ‘It’s in the hands of the police, Jess. It’s best left to them.’
‘I know you think that.’ Jess pauses. ‘But I’ve thought about this. It really is seriously weird that after you two being together for two years, all I know about him is where he works and that he loves Indonesia … And I don’t even know if he’s been there.’
‘Jess, we’ve talked about this. He’s talked to me about stuff.’ I’m slightly exasperated. ‘There’s nothing weird – I promise you.’
‘Why do you always do this?’ Jess’s voice is fierce.
‘Do what?’ I’m not sure what she’s getting at.
‘Underplay things. It’s not normal that he doesn’t talk about his past. OK.’ She challenges me. ‘You tell me. What do you know about him?’
I hesitate. ‘Before we were together, he lived on his own. He’d just broken up with a woman called Mandy. It sounded like she was a bit of a psycho when they split up. I think that’s why he lived alone for so long.’ But already I’m thinking of what Lara told me, about the women in his life – wondering what else he’d hidden from me.
‘What about his family?’ Jess demands. ‘Any siblings? Old school friends? I know you were going to meet his parents at your wedding, but there must be other family members. I can’t believe you haven’t tried to find them.’ There’s a slightly accusing tone in her voice.
‘I tried to call his parents, but I had the wrong number. There isn’t anyone else to find.’ I rack my brains. ‘There was a cousin who was coming to the wedding, who cancelled a couple of weeks before. But there was no-one else in his family he was in contact with. Not all families are close, Jess, for all kinds of reasons.’
‘Don’t you think it’s odd you never met his parents?’ She fires the question at me.
My blood runs cold, as I tell her what Matt had told me. ‘They live in Edinburgh. They were going to come and stay a couple of months back, but Matt’s dad was ill and they had to cancel.’
‘You’ve got to admit, that’s neat and tidy.’ She sounds disbelieving. ‘How do you know he didn’t cancel them? Or if they were really coming in the first place? Have you heard from them at all?’
I shake my head. ‘I’ve emailed them – twice – to tell them the wedding was cancelled, then to ask them to contact me, but they haven’t replied.’
‘He probably gave you a false email address.’ Jess looks distrustful. ‘He’s got it all covered, hasn’t he? If you ask me, he’s a piece of work.’
My sigh is reluctant. ‘Even if you’re right, none of this changes anything, Jess. And like Cath said, maybe it really is better that he’s gone.’
‘Right.’ Jess is defiant. ‘But don’t you want answers? I’m going to start digging around. Rik’s offered to help me. There’s a Mandy in Matt’s Facebook contacts, so we’ll start with her. You should email the cousin who was coming to the wedding, too.’
All I know about Rik is the course he’s studying and his passion for surfing. I’m not sure how I feel about him getting involved, when we haven’t even met. ‘There is someone who knows more,’ I say slowly. ‘Lara. She’s known Matt for years. They had a fling – ages back, before he and I were together.’
�
��When did you find that out?’ Jess sounds amazed.
‘Recently,’ I say shortly.
But Jess is immediately on to her. ‘So she and Matt kept their secret? I thought Lara was supposed to be your friend, too. She’s hardly reliable, is she?’
‘No.’ But apart from Jess, no-one is. I’m silent for a moment.
‘There’s another thing.’ Jess pauses. ‘I’ve been thinking about his obsession with the house. I think he was after your money.’
This time, it’s a step too far. ‘Look, Jess, can we talk about it at the weekend? I’d really rather you didn’t do this.’
But she refuses to let it go. ‘Think about how many times he went on at you about selling the house. He wouldn’t leave it alone, Mum. He had a reason, I’m sure of it.’
‘Jess, please. I really don’t want to have this conversation – not now, OK? We’ll talk, if you really want to, when you’re home.’
She gives in, albeit reluctantly. After she goes, I let my mind wander back to an evening shortly after Matt moved in. It was the first time he tried to persuade me to sell the house. But that hadn’t been about money. It had been about lifestyle – at least, that’s how he’d sold it to me. Had I been blind to what was right in front of me? He’d always liked beautiful things – well-cut suits, pristine shirts, smart furniture, his car, all of it expensive. But he’d had a well-paid job. If he’d had money problems, it wasn’t obvious.
Unable to settle, my mind is restless, turning things this way and that, getting nowhere. Later, when my mobile rings again, I glance at the screen, surprised when I see it’s PC Page.
She gets straight to the point. ‘I spoke to Lara Carmichael yesterday.’
I feel myself freeze, wondering what Lara’s said to her. But if it’s anything controversial, PC Page doesn’t say.
‘She was clearly as shocked as you were when she found out about Matt’s double life. We’ve also been studying his calls and texts.’ She pauses. ‘They’re clear evidence of his relationship with this other woman. I find it increasingly hard to believe he didn’t give himself away. There must have been calls he hid from you, or texts flashing up on his screen. Surely you must have had your suspicions?’
I shake my head. ‘There honestly weren’t any.’ It’s true. I never saw anything that made me question him. Matt and I didn’t look at each other’s phones and messages are private, anyway. Suddenly cold, I feel myself shiver. It almost sounds as though she doesn’t believe me.
But the conversation with Jess is still in my head. ‘Actually, there’s something I thought I should tell you.’
‘Go on?’ PC Page’s voice is crisp.
‘Jess called me earlier today. She was talking about how little we both know about Matt’s past. She thinks he might have been hiding something. But she was right about one thing. He was evasive, deliberately changing the subject if you asked him anything he didn’t want to talk about.’
‘It does seem rather odd.’ She pauses. ‘But surely you must have known him well enough if you were going to marry him.’
She’s right. I should have wanted to know more, but he had this way of smoothly changing the subject, so that before long, I’d forgotten what it was I’d even asked about. Feeling stupid, I backtrack. ‘I thought I should mention it. That was all.’
I’m about to go to bed when my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a number I don’t recognise. I almost don’t answer it, but curiosity gets the better of me. ‘Hello?’
‘Hello.’ It’s a woman’s voice – clear, mocking, precise.
My heart starts to race, the phone falling from my hand, as I’m catapulted back to the past. Snatching up my phone, I switch it off, then block the number before she can call again. How does she have my number? And why is she calling me now, of all times? She’s the last person in the world I want to speak to. There really is nothing to say to her.
She doesn’t belong in my life. It has to stay that way. But unsettled, that night I lie awake, scrolling through faces from the past on my closed eyelids as unwanted memories come flooding back, trying to work out why she’d want to talk to me. There can be only one reason, one I can’t tell the police. And apart from me, she’s the only person who knows.
Chapter Sixteen
It’s early, the trees silvery in the mist. After a sleepless night, I watch from an upstairs window as the police car pulls up and PC Page gets out. This morning she’s in uniform, her shoulder-length hair clipped back. Then I notice she isn’t alone – she’s with an older uniformed officer I haven’t seen before. My heart lurches as I try to imagine why they’ve come here, dreading the worst kind of news.
I must have been right about her call last night. She was setting the scene, preparing the ground for whatever it is they’ve come here to tell me. By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, there’s a knock at the front door. I’m shaking as I open it, filled with dread.
‘Amy. This is DI Lacey.’ PC Page holds my gaze. As she introduces her colleague, her air of formality disconcerts me. I’ve shared so much with this woman, her brusqueness takes me aback.
‘May we come in?’
Standing back, I let them in, a hollow feeling churning inside me as I close the door behind them – my nerves on edge, my instincts sharp. Whatever the reason they’ve come here, I sense it isn’t good. Even before I turn around, I feel their eyes on me.
Looking from one to the other, I falter. ‘It’s Matt, isn’t it?’ My voice is husky. ‘Oh my God. You’ve found him.’ I’m lightheaded, my legs weak, as I turn towards the kitchen, my heart hammering in my chest. But before they can answer, I hear another car pull up out on the road. Glancing behind me, through the window beside the front door, I catch sight of several officers getting out of a police van. I turn to PC Page, suddenly cold. ‘What’s going on?’
The gate through to the garden clicks open, distracting me, and I walk towards the kitchen. Pulling back the curtains, through the glass doors the garden is clearly visible, the early sun cutting through the mist, as several figures slowly make their way across the garden. In what seems like a nightmare, I watch as one of them tramples across a bed of herbs. ‘NO …’ My hands cover my mouth, the words out before I can stop them. My plants are my livelihood. It’s too much to watch an ignorant stranger trampling them. Hearing footsteps come up behind me, I spin around. ‘They’re killing my plants. You have to stop them.’
But my cries go unheard. As DI Lacey goes outside to join them, PC Page’s silent. Then she says, ‘What really happened that night, Amy? When Matt came back late and told you he was leaving you?’
My eyes widen as I gasp in shock. ‘I’ve told you. He didn’t come back that night. The last time I saw him was before he went to work.’
Her eyes don’t leave mine. ‘I think he did come back and you had an argument. One that escalated when your temper got the better of you. You couldn’t bear that your dream wedding wasn’t going to happen, that he was leaving you for someone else. You lost control and then you attacked him.’ She glances through the window towards the police officers walking across the garden. ‘They’re looking for the murder weapon. They have metal detectors – they know what they’re doing. But you could save us all from wasting our time and tell us where it’s hidden.’
As she speaks, I’m dizzy. She doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t believe a single word I’ve said to her. ‘I could never have hurt Matt. I’m not that kind of person. I’m a healer, you know I am. I’m not a killer …’ My voice desperate, urgent, willing her to think again.
‘What about the messages you bombarded Matt with? They were all there, on his phone. You couldn’t have imagined we wouldn’t find them. They make for some reading. You’d obviously found out he was leaving you. It’s all there – you begging him to stay, threatening him that if he left you’d come and find him.’
My mouth falls open. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t send him messages. I called him several times and asked
him to text me when he could, but nothing like you’ve just said.’ I break off, incredulous, because they’re not my messages. ‘Are you sure it’s Matt’s phone?’
‘It’s pointless you denying it.’ PC Page’s voice is abrupt. ‘Your number is listed against your photo.’
‘But I didn’t send them. I really didn’t.’ I stare at her, unable to believe the way the police are speaking to me, desperate for her to believe me. ‘Someone must have set it up to look like it was me. But it wasn’t.’
‘So where’s your phone?’
I glance around for my iphone, cursing that I’ve never bothered to lock it. ‘I don’t know. I need to find it. You’ll see there aren’t any texts on it. I don’t know how this has happened, but someone’s setting me up.’ But my heart sinks, because I know what she’ll say, that it was me who could have sent the texts and deleted them afterwards; how she won’t believe me when I tell her I didn’t write them in the first place. When she doesn’t reply, I follow her gaze across the garden. His hands in his pockets, the DI is walking back towards the house.
Suddenly I’m terrified. ‘If they find anything, it’s because someone’s planted it.’
Her voice is sharp. ‘Who would do that?’
I stare at her aghast. Any sympathy she’s shown in the past has vanished. Instead, she’s brusque, forthright. What’s changed? Wretchedly I shake my head. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know why any of this is happening. I don’t know where the flowers came from, or the blood, but someone’s trying to get at me. Please. You have to believe that.’
As DI Lacey comes back in, he nods towards PC Page. Her eyes flicker briefly away from me, as his fix on mine. ‘Amy Reid, I’m arresting you in connection with the disappearance of Matthew Roche. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
His words are lost as blood rushes in my ears. Dazed, I shake my head, trying to take this all in. ‘This is wrong.’ I stare at them, imagining some kind of sick joke. ‘I haven’t done anything to Matt.’
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 11
