‘Ben—’
‘Patience,’ he replies.
The bus starts and stops once more and the same thoughts flicker through me. I should jump up, shout, tell everyone that he has a knife – except it’s as if Ben knows this is what’s going through my mind. This time, he presses the tip of the knife itself into my thigh, without the shield of his sleeve. It doesn’t hurt, not really, it’s more the awareness that makes me straighten. When the bus pulls away, Ben withdraws the blade into his jacket.
We’ve been travelling for another minute or so when Ben presses the button on the pole next to his seat. The bell dings.
‘We’re getting off,’ he whispers.
‘I have an interview.’
It sounds so stupid; so completely mad given what’s happening, but the words are out before I can stop them.
Ben turns a little, not quite looking at me, though his eye twitches. ‘Be smart,’ he repeats.
When the bus pulls in at the next stop, Ben clambers out of the seat and takes a step backwards, giving me room to walk in front of him. It’s the most space I’ve had in a while – but Ben is still only an arm’s length from me. He doesn’t need to say anything, but I do what’s requested anyway. As soon as I’m on my feet, he slots in at my back. I try to make eye contact with the other passengers as I’m moving along the aisle, hoping one of them – anyone – will see the panic in my face and realise what’s happening. Everyone is staring at their phones or their feet. Nobody pays me any attention.
When I get to the driver, I think about saying something – but what then? Ben stabs me? Stabs the driver? By the time I’ve weighed up whether I should say something, I’m already off the bus and Ben is at my side.
I realise we are outside the house that Ben said he’d buy for me. It’s only now that I see how spooky it is. It’s tall and detached, with leafless trees on either side that are swaying in the breeze. The lower half is hard to see because of the overgrown hedges, but there are boards across the windows at the front. Even on a clear day, like today, it feels like the kind of place from which ghostly cries would seep onto the street and terrify young children. I wonder how I’ve never seen this before. Perhaps it’s enhanced because the hedges are so unwieldly.
‘It was owned by an old woman,’ Ben says. He grips my wrist and pulls me along the pavement towards the gate. ‘She died three years ago, but there’s a dispute going on between her kids. They’re squabbling over who gets what. One of them wants to sell it for the land; another wants to live in it. Everything’s a mess.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I asked.’
Ben leads me past the gate, but, as I think we’re going to head around the house, he steps sideways through a gap in the hedge. I’m given no choice but to follow, albeit with a yelp of alarm at moving so quickly.
‘Shhhhhhh,’ Ben says, out loud this time.
After getting through, I glance back towards the hedge. The branches have grown into one another on the outside, but, from the inside, they’ve been trimmed short. From the pavement, nobody would know this was a way to get into the garden.
Ben pulls me closer towards him, where he’s staring up at the house. Even though there’s a creepiness to it, there is undoubted beauty. At one point, this place would have been majestic, with its pretty window ledges and wood-slat decoration. There’s a porch, like something from a 1950’s American movie.
‘What do you think?’ he asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I could still buy it.’
I turn to take him in, but Ben is transfixed by the house. His grip on my wrist is loose and I could probably pull clear if I wanted.
‘We could live here,’ he says.
‘You died,’ I reply. ‘People would see you. They’d know.’
A shrug. An annoying damn shrug. ‘I’m not stupid. I know that, but I never stopped thinking about buying it for you. It’s what you always wanted.’
I say nothing. There’s no reason to point out that there’s a difference between what I wanted and what he did.
Ben lets go of my wrist and takes a few steps towards the side of the house. He turns back and looks at me as if to say, Are you coming?
‘Will you let me go?’ I ask, glancing to the way his sleeve is still dangling across his hand. ‘We can go our own ways. I promise I’ll never tell anyone about you.’
Ben doesn’t acknowledge what I’ve said. He nods towards the side of the house. ‘Come on.’
He takes a step away, but I don’t move.
‘Luce?’
‘Please let me go?’
‘Come and look first.’
I want to leave but he raises his sleeve just enough to show me the blade. I wouldn’t get far and it doesn’t feel like I have much of a choice. He was never violent with me when we were together. There was never anything physical, though I’ve realised in the years since how I cowered from him. How I avoided confrontation. How I was scared of him. That, perhaps, deep down, I always realised he was capable of something awful.
Ben waits for me to get in front of him and I follow the path around towards the back of the house. There are more towering hedges here, dousing the lengthy garden in shadow. There is so much more land than I imagined.
‘Where?’ I ask.
‘Inside.’
I turn back to the house and shiver from the cold. There’s a large wooden plank across the back door, but the hook is empty. On the ground next to it sits the broken remains of a thick padlock.
‘I’d like to go,’ I say.
Ben moves quickly across to me and pushes the tip of the knife into my side. ‘Inside,’ he repeats, more firmly this time.
‘Ben…’
‘Inside.’
I do as I’m told once more, pushing open the back door and moving into the house. Dust immediately catches in my nose as the freshness of the air outside is replaced by throat-clogging mustiness. Ben is directly behind me as I move into what turns out to be a kitchen. The windows have been covered with paper and the only light comes through a patch that has been peeled away. It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the murk, in which time Ben has closed the door behind us.
The tiles on the floor are cracked and the fridge door hangs open. There is a bottle of washing-up liquid in the windowsill and crusty old dishes in the sink.
‘It needs a bit of work in here,’ Ben says. ‘New fridge and freezer, obviously. I’d probably rip out the cooker, but there’s a lot of room for something more modern. The piping seems solid, though. It’s got central heating, which I didn’t expect.’
He’s perched on the corner of a unit, speaking with his hands as if an estate agent trying to close a deal.
‘We could knock this wall through,’ he says, pointing to an area behind me. I turn to look where he means. ‘There’s a pantry through there,’ he adds, ‘but it could easily be converted into an integrated dining room along with this kitchen.’
Almost through expectation, I poke my head into the room beyond, which is a large cupboard filled with tins of food that are covered with dust. Aside from footprints in the dust, it doesn’t feel as if anyone’s lived here – properly lived here – in a long while. Ben’s clearly spent time here, though. I guess he was only using Jade’s flat to keep half an eye on me. It would explain why there was barely anything there.
He’s in another of the doorways and beckons me through into a hallway and then a living room. The wooden floorboards creak ominously as I head inside – and this room does seem more lived in. There is a sleeping bag on the floor, next to a large rucksack. The walls are lined with bookcases and there’s a rocking chair in the corner.
‘Nice, isn’t it?’ Ben says. ‘Probably wouldn’t need much work in here, other than a clean.’
I shiver again, it’s hard not to. He always seemed to have a life planned for us and now, after everything that’s happened, he still has. ‘Will you let me go?’ I say. ‘I promise I won�
��t say anything about you.’
Ben is blocking the door and there’s only one way in and out. He says nothing at first, but I can see his frame rising and falling as he breathes. He scratches his wrist and then rests his head on the door frame. I can see his silhouette; his Adam’s apple bobbing.
‘I did so much for you,’ he says. ‘It took a bit of luck, admittedly – but it was mainly planning. I wanted to surprise you on Bonfire Night, to make it right. I wanted to start again.’
‘I don’t want any of that.’
It feels dangerous, but it’s the only reply I can give.
‘You don’t want to be loved, do you?’ he says, harshly. ‘You want that stupid job. You want a piss-poor job serving groceries to greasy nobodies. You want your stupid friends in that stupid building with their stupid parties.’ Ben’s voice has been steady and controlled, but he gets gradually louder as he speaks. ‘You want to wallow in this mess you’ve made. You—’
‘This isn’t my mess,’ I say. ‘They aren’t my debts.’
It’s the years of frustration that makes the words come out. It’s one thing to take responsibilities for things done wrong – but when they are other people’s errors, it’s a lot to accept.
Ben’s frame rises and falls once more.
I’m in too deeply now.
‘Did you kill Jade?’ I ask. The thought has been creeping up on me.
The words seep into the corners of the house. Buildings like this have a personality of their own. Quirks and creaks; a history that is hard to match. This has to be a new thing for it.
Ben doesn’t reply at first. He pushes himself up from the door frame until he’s standing straight once more and takes a step into the room, towards me. I shuffle backwards, trying to put the rocking chair between us.
‘I told you,’ he says. ‘I did so much for you.’
I gasp and the sob nearly comes. ‘You killed her for me?’ I manage.
‘To be close to you,’ Ben replies, his voice not wavering. ‘I wanted to show you how much I care. But you didn’t appreciate it, did you? You never did. I was away for five years putting things right. I plan this massive surprise and you don’t even acknowledge it.’
I wonder if I there was a part of me that knew I was his obsession instead of his girlfriend. Perhaps I knew that and liked it? Everyone wants to be wanted. But then he never really wanted me, not like that. He used me to get the money he wanted. Our dreams for the future were always his. If it hadn’t have been for the train, I’d have found out his true nature so much earlier.
I slot in behind the rocking chair, but Ben reaches forward and jolts it to the side. It’s only me and him now and there’s nowhere for me to go. He slips the knife from his sleeve and I can see the shape fully. It’s much longer than I thought; the type from a kitchen that’s serrated and viciously sharp.
‘Well,’ he says with a sigh, ‘if you don’t appreciate me, what use are you?’
His eyes widen as his arm straightens.
‘I do appreciate you.’
My voice cracks as I speak, but it’s too late anyway. I’m in the corner and Ben takes another step forward.
‘No,’ he says, ‘you don’t.’
Chapter Forty-Three
There’s a clarity to my thoughts that’s hard to explain. Ben is still silhouetted by the light and, as he breathes in, I lunge forward and thump the side of my hand into his windpipe. I can picture the scar underneath his Adam’s apple – the old rugby injury on which he had surgery.
He gasps and creases forward and, in that moment, I’m past him. I race for the door as Ben roars behind me. With a skid, I’m tearing along the hall and into the kitchen. The back door is unlocked and it’s only a second until the crisp, clean air of the real world floods forth. I half-run, half-stumble onto the lawn. My legs are like a baby giraffe’s and don’t seem stable. Ben is right behind me, coughing and rasping. I race for the side of the house but have hesitated for too long. From nowhere, Ben slips in front, so that he’s blocking the route away. We’re facing one another as he holds his hands wide.
‘Where are you gonna go?’ he croaks, voice husky.
I step away, but there’s only the garden that backs onto the park behind us. The hedge is too tall to climb and there are no overlooking properties. I keep moving backwards and Ben follows. His eyes are wide and wild, the knife clutched tightly in his right hand. I’ve never seen him like this before.
‘Help!’ I shout as loud as I can, but there’s a steady hum from the road and a general clatter of a cement mixer from somewhere a street or two away.
Ben grins as he moves, knowing I won’t be heard – or, if I am, it will be too late for someone to do anything about it.
‘I offered you everything,’ he says.
‘No, you took everything,’ I reply, still moving backwards. I’m hoping I’ll somehow be able to slip around him and dash for the front of the house.
‘Ungrateful…’ He’s keeping a distance, giving me no space to dodge around his arms.
‘What are you going to do?’ I say. ‘Kill me here?’
Ben raises the knife slightly, as if to say it sounds like an idea. ‘Who’s going to suspect a dead guy?’ he asks – and I realise that he’s right. There will never be justice for Jade, or me. He’ll go to ground and that will be the end. I keep edging away, but the hedge is close to my back now.
‘Help!’
Ben grins. ‘I want you to know that you did this.’
He takes another step forward and there’s nowhere to go this time. I’m trapped between him and the hedge, with only the knife between us. Time feels frozen and then…
There’s a ruffle from the hedge behind, a scratching, and, from nowhere, Billy bursts from the bush. I open my mouth to say his name, but he’s not the same creature who slept on my feet last night. The kind, loving animal has gone and he’s a snarling, spitting creature of fury. He doesn’t wait for me, instead launching himself teeth first at Ben’s forearm. The knife slips onto the turf as Billy and Ben tumble backwards over one another. I’m frozen to the spot, transfixed with stunned shock as Billy ends up on top, his teeth still sunk into Ben’s forearm.
Ben is screeching and flapping around, completely taken by surprise. It’s when he uses his free hand to punch Billy in the side that something within me snaps. I race across the grass, snatch the knife from the ground and charge to where they’re fighting. Ben continues to thump Billy in the side until I hurl myself onto the grass next to them. There’s a flurry of movement between them and they’re so close that I can feel the heat from Billy’s breath. He’s spitting and snorting in a way I’ve never seen before.
I hold the knife up and Ben’s eyes widen.
‘Stop,’ I say.
His free arm goes limp, but his other is still pushing back against Billy.
‘Let him go, Bill,’ I say calmly.
The snarling dampens immediately and then, a moment later, Ben’s other arm is released. I’m holding the knife a few centimetres from Ben’s throat, not breaking eye contact.
‘Roll over,’ I tell Ben – and he does.
A couple of seconds later, there’s a snaffling from the bushes. I glance up – but only for a moment – to see Karen blusters her way through. She’s out of breath and red in the face. ‘Billy! Bil—’
She stops speaking and I can sense her watching us, even though I’m focused on Ben.
‘Lucy?’
‘Call the police,’ I tell her.
Ben’s wriggling, his head tilted towards me. I hold the knife a little further forward, making sure he can see it. Billy is sitting calmly, panting and waiting for any other order.
‘You’ll never use that,’ Ben says.
‘Touch my dog one more time and let’s see.’
Chapter Forty-Four
One Week Later
Billy strains on his lead as he pulls along the path towards the park. I call him back but he’s eager to get to Parkrun.
‘He basically walks himself,’ Karen says.
‘I thought he’d be slowing down by now,’ I say.
‘I’ve hardly seen you in days, what with the police and all. Didn’t expect to see you this morning.’
‘I fancied getting out. Billy’s been cooped up for too long as well.’
Billy stops and waits at the crossing, knowing exactly where he’s going. We stand with him and wait for the flashing green man.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ Karen says.
‘I don’t think the police can either. It was only when they checked his DNA against his mother’s that they stopped thinking I was a nutter.’
She breathes out loudly: ‘What next?’
‘A new 5K PB, I reckon.’
The green man flashes and the box beeps as we start to cross the road. Billy is back to pulling me along again. He leads us over the crossing and around the next corner.
‘After that,’ Karen says. She knows me too well and sees right through the bluster.
‘I’ve got another job interview on Monday.’
‘You know what I mean.’
‘That is what I mean. Life goes on.’
Karen doesn’t reply instantly. I know it’s a bit of a fudge but, in essence, it’s true.
‘Ben died,’ I add. ‘The Ben I know is still dead. Whoever that was in the garden isn’t the same person. He stole everything I had and he broke my heart. The fact he was hiding for five years doesn’t mean much. I heard from one of the officers that he’d set up a new life with some woman over in Wales. She kicked him out at the start of the year after an argument and I guess that’s when he decided to come back. He’s a serial love addict. It’s all or nothing. He wants to force people to love him. I think he was always like that. He played with me because he enjoyed the chase and thought his money was more important than the life I had.’
It’s grandiose stuff – I know that – but I don’t know what else to say. I was rehearsing it in the mirror this morning. Sometimes it does play out that one person will say something expected, so the reply is already practised.
A Face in the Crowd: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 25
