One in Three

by Tess Stimson

  CP

  I didn’t check.

  POLICE

  Approximately, Mrs Page?

  CP

  I don’t know. About eight, I suppose. Andy was still asleep when I left.

  POLICE

  And you swam for how long?

  CP

  Twenty minutes, maybe. But I stayed at the lagoon for a bit afterwards. [Pause.] Andy and I had a row last night, over something I said at dinner. It was stupid—

  POLICE

  This would be when you suggested your stepdaughter, Bella, might be pregnant?

  CP

  [Pause.] Yes.

  POLICE

  Why did you think that? [Pause.] Mrs Page?

  CP

  It was just a stupid misunderstanding.

  POLICE

  And that’s what you argued about?

  CP

  Partly.

  POLICE

  Was this in the hotel, or when you got back to your room?

  CP

  Back in our room. But that was later on, after Andy got back from the beach.

  POLICE

  Why did your husband go to the beach?

  CP

  He went after Louise. She was furious about what I’d said, she stormed out of the hotel, and Andy went to calm her down. But then I heard them shouting on the beach as I was walking back to the Beach House—

  POLICE

  You heard them shouting? They were arguing?

  CP

  Sounded like it.

  POLICE

  Do you know what it was about?

  CP

  No. They were too far away, I couldn’t hear.

  POLICE

  So you went back to the Beach House alone?

  CP

  Yes. Kit was staying up at the main hotel with Louise’s son. I went to bed, but I was still awake when Andy got back.

  POLICE

  What time would that have been?

  CP

  About half an hour after me, about midnight.

  POLICE

  And you say you then had a row with him yourself? What about?

  CP

  Louise, mainly.

  POLICE

  Why did you argue about Louise?

  CP

  [Inaudible.]

  POLICE

  For the tape, Mrs Page.

  CP

  Sorry. I said, I told him he needed to be careful. She’s obsessed with Andy, she’s never been able to accept it’s over. [Pause.] Look, I don’t expect you to take my word for it. No one else has. She’s got a police record, you can look it up.

  POLICE

  Did Louise Page ever threaten your husband, as far as you know?

  CP

  No, she’s too clever for that. But—

  POLICE

  If we could just stick to the facts, Mrs Page.

  CP

  In the end, Andy said he was going to sleep on the sofa. [Pause.] That was the last time I talked to him.

  POLICE

  I know this must be upsetting for you, but can you tell me what happened when you got back to the Beach House this morning after your swim?

  CP

  I heard shouting on my way back from the lagoon. I stopped for a minute to try to figure out where it was coming from, and then I realised it was the Beach House—

  POLICE

  You’re sure?

  CP

  There wasn’t anywhere else it could have been from. You’ve seen how isolated it is. So I started running, and then I heard screaming. It was really awful. I knew something terrible was happening. When I got there, the door was wide open and I could see Louise just standing there, and Andy was on the floor, and there was blood everywhere.

  POLICE

  Was your husband still alive?

  CP

  I don’t know. I tried to get to him, but she came at me with the knife—

  POLICE

  Mrs Page was holding the knife?

  CP

  Yes. I tried to get it away from her, and then we both slipped and fell, and I hurt my arm. She was shouting and yelling, and we were both struggling to get it. And then somebody burst into the room, one of the groundsmen, I think, and she let me go.

  POLICE

  Did you see anyone else at all? Anyone enter or leave the Beach House?

  CP

  No.

  POLICE

  Mrs Page, you are aware that Louise Page says it’s you who killed him? She says she heard shouting, and discovered you with the knife.

  CP

  Well, she would do, wouldn’t she? But why would I kill him?

  POLICE

  You seem very calm, Mrs Page, if you don’t mind me saying.

  CP

  Because I knew something like this would happen in the end. [Pause.] Louise always said if she couldn’t have him, no one else would. I guess she meant it, didn’t she?

  The day of the party

  Chapter 43

  Caz

  I stand by the sofa, watching Andy sleep. People are always supposed to look defenceless and innocent when they’re asleep, when their guard is down, but all I see is a liar. He’s betrayed me so many times, in so many ways. I’ve always come second to Louise. Second wife, second choice. Always. But that’s not why I’m doing this. I made peace with my place in Andy’s life when I married him. This is about justice. About doing what I should have done years ago, in a different time and in a different place, to a different man.

  My mother wasn’t strong enough to do what needed to be done, but I am. I should’ve done it last night, but the commotion my stupid blunder caused knocked my plans off course. I still have some instinct for self-preservation: I’ll go to jail if I have to, but it’s not my first choice. I’ll come under suspicion no matter what; the spouse is the first person the police always suspect. But in this case, there are two of us. All I need to do is create reasonable doubt. My intention had been to do that by acting during a period of time in the evening when no one knew exactly where everyone else was, but thanks to the furore I kicked off, that didn’t happen. So Andy earned another twelve hours of life he didn’t deserve.

  He didn’t even speak to me when he finally got back last night. His contempt is more embarrassing than a row would have been. I’ll tell the police we fought; it’ll sound more believable.

  It’d be easy to kill him now, while he’s sleeping, but I need to be seen out this morning, to establish a clear window of time when Andy was alone and give myself an alibi. So I make sure I’m remembered going down to the beach. I throw a scarlet linen tunic over the top of my red bikini, and then saunter up the path to the hotel. I wouldn’t normally give the two middle-aged tennis players limbering up for a match the time of day, but this morning I go out of my way to comment on the glorious weather and wish them luck. Two bored waiters straightening chairs on the terrace get the benefit of a wide smile. I can feel their eyes follow me all the way down the wooden steps towards the lagoon.

  The tiny beach is surprisingly busy this early in the morning, with a number of swimmers already in the sea. I strip off, and wade out into the lagoon, diving below the surface and swimming underwater until my lungs feel tight. Even in July, the water is cold. Adrenalin courses through me. I’m not a victim anymore. I’m finally taking charge of my own life again, and it feels good.

  When I emerge from the waves, a woman about my own age is coming down the wooden staircase in a red bikini very similar to my own. It’s an unexpected stroke of good luck: one blonde in a red swimsuit looks much like another. Another sign the gods are on my side. I wait till she’s swum out to the floating pontoon in the lagoon and settled herself in the sun, then tuck my wet hair up under a nondescript baseball cap and throw on a plain denim dress from my beach bag, which now holds the eye-catching red tunic. Reasonable doubt. That’s all I need.

  As I climb the stairs back to the Beach House, I spot Celia Roberts walking briskly away from the hotel, dressed in jeans and a T
-shirt that should look way too young for her, but don’t, the gold chiffon scarf from last night knotted stylishly at her throat. I duck quickly out of sight as I reach the top of the staircase, and she disappears around the side of the terrace without seeing me.

  For a fleeting moment, I consider going to her and telling her what Andy’s done to Bella. Instinctively, I know she is the one person who’d understand what needs to happen now, and would be ruthless enough to do it. She likes Andy, loves him, even; but her protective love for her children, her grandchildren, is primal and far stronger. Perhaps losing a child shapes you in ways you don’t expect.

  I dismiss the thought. She might not believe my story, and I’m not willing to risk her raising the alarm. I wait until I’m sure she’s not coming back, and then head quickly down to the Beach House. Andy is still snoring on the sofa, sleeping off the half-bottle of Scotch he put away last night. I go into the bathroom and change back into the red tunic I’ve been so careful to be seen in, and take a deep, steadying breath as I get Louise’s steak knife from my bag. This is it, then. It’s time.

  Now that the moment is at hand, I feel oddly calm and clear-headed. The decision has been made; the sentence has been passed. All I have to do now is carry it out.

  My alibi is far from rock-solid, the timings of my comings and going to the lagoon imprecise, but I just have to hope Louise’s fingerprints on the murder weapon are enough to muddy the waters. I don’t want to frame her. Not exactly. But she and I are bound together in this, whether she knows it or not. It’s her daughter I’m protecting. We both have a motive; we both have means and opportunity. If they can’t tell which of us did it, they’ll have to let us both go. Reasonable doubt. That’s all I need.

  I return to my sleeping husband and eye his neck, picturing the knife slicing through the soft skin, the bright vermilion jet of arterial blood as his life and lies drain away from him. It can’t be that hard to find the jugular. I’m not a medic, but I learned how to take someone’s pulse on a first aid course at Whitefish a year or two ago. Presumably you cut in the same place.

  I grip the knife a little more tightly. I’m so close I can smell the stale whisky on his breath. Now is the perfect time. Andy deserves this. I didn’t think twice over the cat, and Bagpuss was far more worthy of life. Now. Strike now.

  My hand shakes. I exhale sharply. I can’t do it. Goddammit, I can’t do it!

  Rage seizes me with all the power and momentum of a contraction during active labour. I drop the knife with a clatter onto the side table and flee out onto the balcony, despising myself for my weakness. I’ve failed Bella. I’m no better than my mother. The fury pythons its way around my body, constricting my chest so tightly I can’t breathe. I have to grip the railing to stop myself from leaping over it. I hate Andy with all my being, but love is stronger, even now.

  I don’t know how long I stand there: a minute, or twenty. I’m brought back to myself by the sound of a door slamming, as if caught by the wind. And then a quiet, terrible, rasping, mortal sigh.

  I spin round. Andy is standing in the centre of the room, his back towards me. Even as I watch, he staggers backwards, clutching at his neck like the victim in a B slasher movie. Gouts of shocking red blood spill between his fingers. I see the knife, the knife I dropped a lifetime ago, sticking from his throat like a grotesque toy.

  And then I see Bella.

  Her head swivels towards me like a marionette’s as I stand frozen in horror on the balcony. She stares at me blankly, catatonic with shock, as Andy collapses to his knees on the floor between us, gurgling and choking on his own blood. I gape at her, aghast, and then rush to Andy’s side. The light is already fading from his eyes. ‘Dear God, Bella, what happened?’

  She just looks at me. And then she screams, a high, unnatural sound that sends chills down my spine. It sounds as if she’s burning from the inside out.

  Moving faster than I’d have thought possible, I leap up and grab her by the arms, forcing her back towards the front door, away from the gory sight of her father dying on the floor. Bella didn’t mean to do this. She must have finally snapped, and the knife was just there. Right where I left it. She did what I couldn’t. What I wanted to do. I refuse to let anyone else’s life be ruined by this monster.

  ‘Go,’ I say roughly, propelling her towards the door. She has blood on her shorts and bikini top; my own bloodied hands leave grisly smears on her bare arms. ‘Go to the beach,’ I tell her. ‘Swim in the sea. You need to get the … you need to be clean.’

  She looks at me, her eyes glassy. I have no idea if she understands.

  ‘Bella, you were never here,’ I press urgently. ‘I’ll deal with this. It was an accident, it wasn’t your fault. Swim in the sea, then get back to the hotel, do you understand? You were never here.’

  Finally she starts to stumble down to the sand. I slam the door shut and rush back to the sitting room. Vomit rises in my throat as I lean over Andy’s body, but I can’t afford emotion now; he is not the man I once loved, the father of my son, but a problem to be solved, a crisis to be handled. I pull the knife from his neck, wiping the handle on my tunic to remove Bella’s fingerprints. Someone will have heard her screaming. It won’t be long before they raise the alarm. I have minutes, at most, to make it seem like she was never here.

  I don’t even get that.

  I’m struck from behind by a blow between the shoulder blades so powerful it knocks the breath out of me. I pitch forward onto Andy’s body, instinctively curling my hands over my head to protect myself. I get a glimpse of Louise’s face, contorted with fury, but I don’t have a chance to explain. She slams the lamp into me again, and I scream in agony as the heavy marble makes contact with my upper arm. Suddenly I’m parrying a flurry of vicious blows as we struggle in mortal combat. She’s got the element of surprise; she’s winning. I actually think she might kill me.

  She raises the lamp to strike yet again, but as I cower, she suddenly slips in Andy’s blood. The lamp falls from her hand as she loses her footing, and lands heavily on her back.

  I shuffle backwards away from her before she has a chance to regroup. Searing pain shoots through my shoulder as I push myself upright against the wall, panting, my arm hanging uselessly at my side.

  The knife lies on the floor between us. I lunge for it, but Louise gets to it at the same time, knocking it from my hand. The knife skitters away from both of us, coming to rest in a glistening ruby pool of blood by Andy’s body.

  My breath is coming in tight, painful rasps. I think she may have broken some of my ribs, too. I hear shouts outside, and the distant sound of running feet. Sound carries across the water; Bella’s screams were blood-curdling.

  Louise hears the voices too. She rocks back on her heels, and pushes her hair out of her eyes with the inside of her wrist, leaving scarlet smears on her face. We are both drenched in Andy’s blood.

  I glance towards the beach, praying Bella reached the hotel unseen, that she keeps her head. I nearly pass out from the pain in my shoulder, but I force myself to concentrate. There’s only one way we can save Bella now. But to do it, we’re going to have to trust each other. If they can’t tell which of us did it, they’ll have to let us both go.

  ‘Louise,’ I say quickly. ‘We don’t have much time.’

  Five months later

  Chapter 44

  Louise

  I read the email twice, and then close my laptop, and go into the kitchen. It’s what I expected, but it’s still hard to see it written in black and white.

  Pouring myself a glass of white wine, I lean lightly against the tall kitchen window, staring down at the bustling street below. Last-minute Christmas shoppers throng the rain-slicked pavements, weighed down with carrier bags, and I can hear the sound of Slade’s ‘Merry Christmas’ drifting up from one of the shops nearby. I love being back in London, in the centre of things. It’s like I was never away.

  After Andrew’s death five months ago, I couldn’t face the thought of
staying in Sussex. Our house held too many memories of our life together, of everything that went so horribly wrong. Besides, without his financial support, I needed a better income than I could generate freelancing or teaching. Moving to London has enabled me to take a full-time editorial position at the Daily Sketch. I couldn’t quite face selling the house, though, not yet, so I put it on Airbnb, which is bringing in far more than I’d dreamed possible, and rented a tiny two-bedroom flat in the shabbier end of Primrose Hill. Bella didn’t want to leave her friends and her school, not with just one more year to go before uni, so she decided to live with my parents during the week, and come up to me at weekends. Not that Tolly and I see much of her; she’s too busy taking advantage of all the city has to offer a teenager. She deserves it, after everything she’s been through.

  Abruptly, I put down my wineglass and go back to my computer, pulling up the email again. Re: Police Investigation 47130060126. We regret to inform you …

  The words start to blur before my eyes. The reviewing lawyer at the Crown Prosecution Service … difficult decision not to progress the matter to court. Your word against hers … no third party material corroborating either party’s version of events … case will remain open …

  She got away with it. Caz literally got away with murder.

  Caz lied. I knew it then, and I know it now. My daughter didn’t kill her father, even in a desperate moment of madness. It’s not that I don’t believe her capable of such an act; I know better than most how thin is the line between normal and crazy. In extremis, we can all be driven to do something we’d never have thought was in our nature. But I also know Bella could never lie to me, not about something like this. Not for five months; not to me. I’d know.