by Karen King
‘I’m taking it out into the garden,’ Phil shouted.
‘Great idea. I’ll be down in a sec.’
A few minutes later she joined Phil outside, where he was seated at the wooden table, sipping his mug of coffee. A tray with another mug of coffee and a plate of assorted biscuits rested on the table. Freya picked up the mug and reached for a Bourbon cream. ‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’
Phil nodded. ‘I thought I might get out for a bit, go for a walk.’
Freya cast a glance at his face: he looked tired, troubled. ‘I could take a break if you want me to join you?’
He shook his head and reached out to touch her hand. ‘That’s kind of you but I know how important this new account is. You get back to work and I’ll have a stroll on my own. I promise to take it easy and I’ll only be an hour or so.’
It was a lovely, sunny day, ideal for a walk. She guessed Phil needed a bit of time to himself. Besides, he was right, she did need to work. She didn’t want Stefan to think she couldn’t handle the extra work and pass it on to Nadia. Also it would give her a chance to contact Aileen without worrying that Phil would come in and catch her. And to call Daisy too.
‘Okay, but don’t overdo it,’ she agreed. ‘And if you get too tired to walk back, phone me and I’ll come and pick you up.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t go far,’ he promised.
She swallowed the last of her coffee and grabbed another biscuit. ‘See you in a bit then.’ She kissed him on the forehead and went back upstairs. A few emails had come in while she was away from her desk so she dealt with them, shouting goodbye to Phil as he called to say he was going now, then opened Messenger to reply to Aileen.
I’m so sorry that Phil isn’t ready to meet you yet, Aileen, but I would love to. Where would you like to meet? We live just outside Worcester, so if you live more than an hour’s drive away, perhaps we can meet somewhere halfway? Would Birmingham city centre suit you? Afternoons about four would be best for me. Any day except for Mondays and Fridays as I work in the office then.
Phil will thank me for this, she told herself. She knew that if she’d fallen out with her parents, she’d be devasted if either of them died before she had the chance to make up with them.
She called Daisy but it went to answerphone so she sent a quick message asking Daisy to phone her back. Then she clicked on the Kada folder on the screen of her laptop and was soon engrossed in a new design for Kada’s header. So engrossed that when her phone rang it made her jump. She glanced at the screen. Nadia. She’d had a couple of texts from her in the week, asking how Phil was. She’d been so supportive helping out with the Kada account when Phil had been in hospital, and Freya felt that they’d grown closer as a result.
‘Hi, Freya, how are things?’ Nadia asked cheerily. ‘How’s the patient?’
‘He’s gone for a walk, actually. He seems in good spirits but he’s struggling with this memory loss,’ Freya told her. ‘And it’s really bugging him that he can’t find the travel insurance or the receipt for the holiday he’d booked for us – he wants to tell them what happened and get his money back.’
‘There should be some record of it, surely?’
‘He can’t find one. And he didn’t tell me any details of the holiday so I can’t help.’
‘That’s weird. Still, I guess it doesn’t really matter. The important thing is that Phil is okay and home again.’
‘Yes, that’s what I keep trying to tell him.’
She wondered whether to tell Nadia about the police saying that someone had tampered with the brakes on Phil’s car but decided against it – best keep that to themselves until they had more information. So she moved the conversation on to talking about the project, planning a roller banner for the website and a Facebook advertising campaign, so that Freya could work on some ideas to show at the meeting tomorrow. They chatted away for a while then Freya heard the front door open.
‘I’d better go, Phil’s back,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Nadia.’
She heard Phil go into the kitchen and then shout out. She raced down the stairs and stopped at the kitchen door, aghast at the scene in front of her. Water was pouring out of the tap over the sink and onto the kitchen floor, and there was now a thin film of water across the kitchen. How the hell had that happened?
‘You left the bloody tap on!’ Phil accused, splashing through the water to turn off the tap. Then he pulled the plug out of the sink.
‘I didn’t. I haven’t been downstairs since you went out,’ she told him. ‘You must have done it.’ She couldn’t understand it. They rarely even put the plug in the sink – they had a dishwasher, and when they washed up the odd item, they used the bowl.
‘When?’ Phil demanded. ‘I’ve only just walked through the door.’
Freya shot an anxious glance at him; his jaw was set and the vein on his forehead was throbbing. He’s angry, she realised, her stomach tightening a little. ‘Phil, I promise I haven’t been downstairs since you went out,’ she said as calmly as she could. He had obviously washed a cup or something in the sink before he went out and not turned the tap off completely. She was worried how forgetful he was becoming. Could it be connected to the accident? He never used to be so forgetful. She didn’t want to make a big thing of it but would have to keep an eye on him. What if he left something cooking on the stove?
‘You must have forgotten. Don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’ll clear it up. It won’t take long.’ She squeezed the top of his arm as she walked past him to get the mop bucket. Phil turned to her and for a moment she thought she saw panic in his eyes. ‘It’s okay, Phil. Leave it to me,’ she reassured him.
By the time she’d mopped up the water in the kitchen, Phil was in his study, bent over some papers.
What should I do? she thought as she stood watching him. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen next.
As if sensing her presence, he glanced up.
‘Are you ready for lunch yet?’ she asked. ‘It’s gone one.’
‘Not yet. Another hour maybe,’ he replied. ‘Is that okay with you?’
‘Sure.’
He turned his attention back to his papers and Freya made her way back upstairs.
His anger had disappeared as quickly as it had come, and it was almost as if he’d forgotten about the flood in the kitchen, she thought worriedly. Was the amnesia more serious than the doctors realised?
31
Phil
Phil waited until he heard Freya going back upstairs then pulled out the piece of notepaper he’d just shoved in his drawer. It had been lying on his desk, waiting for him when he came back from his walk. Typed in the same bold capitals as the previous note. He held it out and read it again.
YOU CAN’T ESCAPE FROM ME.
Short, typed, unsigned and meant to frighten him. Someone had sneaked into their house in the middle of the day with Freya working upstairs, walked through the kitchen, down the hall and into the garage room and placed the threatening note on his desk, wanting to let Phil know how easily they could come and go. So it hadn’t been Freya who’d left the tap running. He had so hoped it was her. He couldn’t stand knowing that someone was sneaking into their house whenever they wanted to. It was almost as if they had a key.
He took the big dictionary down and pulled out the other note, laying them both side by side.
I’M WATCHING YOU. YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH IT.
Both notes were short, threatening, anonymous. He wondered if Freya had been right and the sender was a former student at the university, someone who had a crush on him. It happened to the lecturers sometimes – although breaking into his house and leaving notes was a bit too unhinged.
The only thing he could think of doing was going through his diary and online calendar and seeing if he could find a clue there; he’d always been meticulous about keeping records of meetings and work deadlines. He liked to be organised. Hopefully he’d find something that cou
ld shed a light on this. He slipped both notes between the front cover and first page of the dictionary then put it back on the shelf. He didn’t want Freya to find out about the notes until he’d worked out who had a grudge against him. Then he flicked through his desk diary. It was mainly university stuff: tutorials with students, deadlines for when assignments had to be marked, and restaurant bookings for his and Freya’s birthdays and their anniversary. There was no mention of a holiday in Dubai, he noticed, but then Freya had said he’d booked it at the last minute, so he guessed he hadn’t had time to put it in his diary.
He checked his online calendar, which seemed to be a record of his freelance writing work: when he’d delivered articles, meetings with editors, exhibitions and events he was going to. There were a couple of meetings with the editor of the local Telegraph, a couple with magazine editors or people he was interviewing. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Then something caught his eye. According to the calendar on the screen, he met someone called Billy every Tuesday at lunchtime at a place called Benbows. Who the hell was Billy?
Maybe he was an editor of a magazine, or someone he was writing a regular article for. Phil picked up his phone and scrolled down his contacts, stopping at the name Billy. There were no details for him, just a number. Whoever this Billy was had obviously not read or heard about Phil’s accident as there was no text from him wishing him a speedy recovery, like there were from many of his contacts. That would suggest he wasn’t a close friend, so yes, maybe someone he was working with. He typed ‘Billy’ into the search bar of his email but nothing came up, which didn’t mean anything as people’s email addresses didn’t always reflect their names. Maybe he should call Billy, tell him he’d lost his memory and ask him if he would mind reminding Phil what they were working on. It could be a bunch of articles and he didn’t want to lose work. After a few minutes’ hesitation, he dialled the number. No reply.
Phil tapped his chin with the phone. Should he leave a message? He’d been meeting this person regularly for months apart from the last two weeks before his accident. Did that mean whatever project he had been working on was finished? He turned back to his laptop and searched through his work files for anything he’d recently completed. Nothing. On the off chance, he checked his list of students at the university. There was no Billy among them.
Frowning, he dialled the number again, rehearsing what he’d say as he listened to the dial tone.
There was no answer.
He didn’t want to make a nuisance of himself. Billy was obviously busy and would have Phil’s number in his phone if they met so regularly, so perhaps he would get back to him.
As he put the phone down on his desk, he heard the ping of an incoming message so slid the screen to read it. It was Billy.
What do you want, Phil?
Phil frowned. He’d expected a ‘Sorry, mate, I’m busy, I’ll phone you in a bit’ or even a ‘Good to hear from you, hope you’re okay’ but this message sounded curt. As if he’d upset Billy for some reason.
He texted back:
I need to talk to you when you have a few minutes to spare.
A few minutes later the phone rang, the name ‘Billy’ flashing across his screen. Phil felt a bit anxious as he answered the call, wondering if he would recognise the voice. The doctor had told him anything could trigger his memory.
‘Why are you phoning me?’
Phil almost dropped the phone in shock. He recognised the voice all right. It was Daisy.
32
Daisy
Oh God, he must have remembered the affair. Daisy placed a shaking hand over her stomach, her other hand still holding the phone. That was the only credible explanation for Phil to phone her then end the call as soon as she answered. She had to talk to him, to tell him to keep quiet, let him know that she and Mark were going to make a go of their marriage. She was sure that Phil wouldn’t want Freya to find out, so they both had to make a pact to never tell a soul what had happened between them.
Unless… what if Phil had phoned because he remembered how much they loved each other and wanted her back? She shook her head. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – continue seeing Phil. Not now. Not after how he’d reacted when she’d told him about their affair. The scorn, the anger, as if the very idea of having an affair with her was loathsome to him. And the way he’d dumped her so callously before the accident too – because she wouldn’t leave Molly and Max. He was the one who had chased her, asked her to run off with him, and she’d been ready to until he’d made it clear he didn’t want her children too. ‘I don’t want to be looking after your kids; I want my own kids,’ he’d told her. She would never forgive him for that.
And then there was the way he had lied to her, manipulated her into believing that it was Freya who was abusing him. She wanted to warn Freya, but how could she without revealing that she’d had an affair with Phil?
She paced around the kitchen wondering what to do. If Mark found out, he would leave her, she knew he would, and it would destroy her relationship with Freya. What had she been thinking of to be swept away by Phil’s good looks, his charm, his soft words as he’d unburdened himself to her, shown her the scars of his fights with Freya? How could she have been so taken in that she’d betrayed both her husband and her sister?
She’d been feeling lonely, unloved, that was why. Mark was working all the hours under the sun – they barely had time for a hug never mind anything else.
For you. He is working hard for you and the kids. She closed her eyes tight, wishing she could turn back the clock, had never gone for that drink with Phil when he’d phoned her, begging her to meet up as he needed someone to talk to, swearing her to secrecy, pretending he was scared of what Freya would do to him if she found out.
What if he wasn’t pretending, though? What if he’d been telling the truth?
No, he’d been lying. She’d known that as soon as Freya had confided in her about his abuse – she had seen how nervous her sister was. And she’d had a glimpse of his true nature the other day when he had been aggressive towards her.
She jumped as the phone she’d been holding in her hand rang . She bit her lip nervously, hoping it wasn’t Phil calling back. She didn’t want to ever speak to him again but she knew she would have to and soon. She glanced at the name on the screen and her mouth went dry when she saw it was Freya. Had she guessed? Had Phil told her? She couldn’t speak to her sister right now, not until she’d composed herself. She left the phone to ring, her eyes staring at the screen, her scrambled brain trying to think what to do. Then a message pinged in from Freya.
Hi Daisy, please phone me back when you can. I really need to talk to you.
Daisy trembled as she read the message. Had Freya found out about her and Phil?
33
Phil
Why the hell had he got Daisy’s number in his phone under the name of Billy? As he quickly ended the call, he was literally shaking. There was only one explanation he could think of: Daisy had been telling the truth when she’d said they were having an affair. It hadn’t been a trick; she’d only said that to cover her tracks because of his reaction.
How could he have been so stupid? Christ, he didn’t even remotely fancy Daisy! He closed his eyes, guilt and anger surging through him. If Freya found out about this, their marriage would be over. He couldn’t bear that. He loved Freya so much, he couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her. He had to do everything he could to keep this from her.
Then his eyes snapped open as another thought flashed across his mind. If Daisy was telling the truth about them having an affair, then she could also have been telling the truth about Phil saying that Freya was aggressive, violent. That he’d turned to Daisy, confided in her because he didn’t know what to do about Freya’s tantrums.
Another idea was seeding in his mind. Freya could have found out about his affair with Daisy and tampered with the brakes of his car out of revenge, deliberately provoking the argument so that Phil would sto
rm out and drive off. It could be Freya who was leaving the notes, pretending someone had broken in, wanting him to suffer for cheating on her. She could be feeding him a pack of lies, knowing he couldn’t remember anything.
34
Daisy
She could barely think straight all afternoon. Her life was a mess. She was pregnant, possibly by her brother-in-law, who it now seemed had remembered their affair. Only a couple of weeks ago she’d been hoping that Phil would change his mind, that he would leave Freya to be with her, as he’d promised he would. If he had done, they could have brought up the baby together, with Molly and Max. Except that Phil didn’t want the twins. She thought back to the day they’d broken up, a week before the accident.
‘I’ve nearly got everything in place; we’ll be together soon,’ Phil said as they lay in each other’s arms. Phil had booked them into a hotel for the afternoon so Daisy had gone straight from work, arranging for Lisa to pick up Molly and Max from school for a playdate with her children, Holly and Jack. She and Phil had spent the afternoon making love, planning a future together.
‘I can’t wait for us to live together,’ Daisy told him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. She loved him so much. She could hardly believe that they were going away together, making a new life.
‘I’ve seen a two-bedroom cottage we can rent until the house is sold. It’s in the Forest of Dean,’ he told her.
