But Jo is interrupted by a knock at the door. Glad of the reprieve, she gets to her feet. ‘I’ll get it, you stay there,’ she insists, gathering up the damp cloths. Spangle follows her excitedly into the hallway, yapping at her side, his tail wagging furiously. ‘You’re a useless guard dog,’ she says to him, trying to sound normal, though her voice wavers. Her pace slows when she sees the shape of a man’s silhouette behind the stained glass. A familiar figure.
She takes a breath. Pulls the door open. ‘Simon…’ she says, forcing a smile. I was just thinking about you… Let’s keep that I almost told you my darkest secret just between the two of us, eh?
‘Keep what between the two of us?’ Simon says, grinning. He comes in, delivering a kiss to Jo’s cheek but then changes his mind and adds one to her lips. Jo just stands there, stunned.
‘Oh… oh,’ Jo says, making a confused sound. ‘You know me, scatty as ever. Don’t know what I’m talking about half the time. I just spilt tea everywhere, see?’ She holds up the wet cloths, laughing it off as best she can, feeling a sweat break out.
But Simon just looks at her, eyeing her up and down, an amused smile on his face. He puts his hand on her shoulder. ‘I like scatty,’ he whispers, leaning in.
Look, it’s OK. They’re not going to put two and two together before you leave, Jo, and, if they do, so what? They can’t prove anything.
Jo is about to close the front door behind Simon, but Will is standing there, making her freeze.
‘You OK?’
She feels Simon’s hand on her back, hears the mild amusement in his voice as she stares at what must seem like empty space to him. ‘Yes, yes, sorry. I’m fine.’ She shuts the door in Will’s face, a little piece of her shrivelling up inside.
When she goes into the living room, following Simon, Will is leaning against the fireplace, right next to where his photographs once stood.
‘Confession to make, Suze,’ Simon says, bending down to greet her – a kiss on each cheek.
Suzanne waves a hand through the air in a theatrical gesture. ‘I knew it. You’ve been madly in love with me since the day we met in the playground, aged eight, right?’ She laughs loudly, exposing perfect teeth.
‘Yes, of course,’ Simon replies drily, sitting down. ‘But apart from that, I appear to have lost your spare keys. I’ve hunted high and low. I’m so sorry.’
Jo makes a noise – something between a squeak and a moan. Simon and Suzanne both look at her. Jo pretends to clear her throat. ‘I’ll just take these out…’ She holds up the dirty cloths. But she hovers in the hallway, listening.
‘So I’d suggest a locksmith and having the locks changed. Of course, I’ll make arrangements and pay for it. I know someone good. My fault for being so careless. You know that’s not like me.’
‘Oh the irony,’ Jo hears Suzanne say. ‘That you have put my property at risk. But I’ll forgive you and will take your advice.’
‘Good,’ Simon replies. ‘Can’t be too careful. If I lost them in the village, a savvy burglar might chance his luck on local houses at night.’
‘Don’t, you’re scaring me,’ Suzanne says. ‘But at least you’re next door. And I’ve got my own set, of course,’ she adds. ‘And Jo has the front and back door keys while she’s here. I’ve invited her to stay on for the rest of the week. Poor woman wanted a relaxing break and I ruined it by coming back.’
Jo is about to creep away, to get rid of the cloths, when she hears whispering.
‘Nice, isn’t she?’ It’s Suzanne’s voice. ‘Though I swear I know her from somewhere, but you know me – I can’t place her for the life of me. I had a couple of my episodes earlier. I’m sure it was because of her… that she triggered something. You know, like what happened with…’
Jo can’t make out the rest of what she says.
There’s silence for a moment. Then Simon coughing.
‘Yes, yes, she is very nice,’ he says in a normal voice. ‘And I’m glad to hear she’s staying on.’
‘Lou?’ Jo says, shivering in the night air. ‘It’s me. Can you hear me?’
‘Hi, Jo. How’s it going? Are you starting to relax a bit now?’
‘I’m doing OK,’ Jo replies, not wanting to burden Louise. The line isn’t good so she presses the phone harder against her ear. ‘I’ve just stepped outside for some fresh air,’ she says. ‘Firstly, how are you feeling now?’
There’s a pause.
‘I’m doing OK too, thanks. Keeping up with the bed rest,’ she adds.
‘Glad to hear you’re finally taking advice,’ Jo replies, her mind all over the place. Similarly, she desperately wants Louise’s advice. ‘She’s come back, Lou. The owner. Suzanne.’
‘Oh… what, why? Does that mean you’re coming home now, then?’
‘I should. I really, really should. But she’s asked me to stay on. She knows something about Will, Lou. I’ve got a feeling she’s seen him quite recently, and… and she said she’s done something to make sure he’ll never come back.’ Jo fights to keep her voice even. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure I want to know what she’s done. It scares me. And then I went and had a few drinks and blurted stuff out to Simon, the neighbour, thinking it was in confidence, and you know, it most likely is given that he’s a therapist and everything, and he’ll be quite used to having crazy people spewing stuff out and probably forgetting what they even said a minute later, but I wish I hadn’t. He seems really tight with Suzanne…
‘Anyway, you’ll never guess who she is. Suzanne – she’s only the woman from the play we went to together. Will’s play. The last one we saw him in. Suzanne McBride. The queen. Do you remember? The one with the wig. The one who kissed Will and it gave me the jitters because I sensed they had this chemistry together. She was the one in the green room who I thought was acting weirdly with me. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do with that information, Lou? All the photos, and now this. I mean, she’s in the same business as Will. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what’s going on. But I still have no idea where he is, and… and I don’t think she recognises me, thank heavens, but—’
‘Jo, for God’s sake stop. Slow down. You’re making me dizzy just listening to you.’ Louise takes a breath, sounding tired.
‘Lou, I’m sorry. You don’t need this right now. I’ll let you rest.’
‘It’s fine, Jo. Right, let’s take this slowly. You think the woman you’re house-sitting for has something to do with Will’s disappearance?’
‘Yes. One hundred per cent.’
‘Then call the police! What are you even phoning me for?’
Because it’s not that simple, Lou. I think she knows…
‘I don’t want to waste their time, I guess,’ Jo says, hoping that’s deflection enough.
‘Look, do you want me to call them for you?’ Louise’s voice is kind and calm. ‘You sound really upset.’
‘No. No, please don’t do that. Not yet. I just need to think.’
‘I understand you’re looking for closure, Jo, but I think you’re adding up a couple of coincidences to get the result you want to see.’
‘Maybe,’ Jo says, steadying her breathing. She perches on the front garden wall, facing out into the street. The lane is quiet, but Suzanne’s house is on such a sharp bend that whenever a car comes round the corner, it startles her.
‘Just watch out when you pull out of the drive,’ Simon had warned her when they’d walked down to the pub the other night. ‘Cars come way too fast into the village. There have been loads of accidents over the years. Suzanne’s had to have her front wall rebuilt about three times. It’s a black spot.’
Jo glances down at the new brick section, different to the rest of the boundary wall further along. Feeling nervous, she gets up and moves.
‘You really think it’s all a coincidence, Lou?’ Jo walks along the lane slowly, dragging her feet. ‘Frankly, not knowing anything is better than finding out he had an affair with Suzanne and that she’s somehow
got rid of him. What if she—’
‘Jo, stop it!’ Louise speaks in her court voice. Jo always recognises it. ‘How many house-sit houses were there on that website? I’m betting hundreds and hundreds. Probably thousands, right?’
‘I expect so, yes.’ Jo lowers her voice as someone walks past with a small dog on a lead.
‘So why do you think that, out of all of them, you picked the one where the owner seems associated with Will?’
Jo pauses, thinking back, remembering what it was that drew her to Hawthorn Lodge – apart from the photos of Will.
‘I chose this area because it reminded me of Will. We’d been planning a romantic weekend away here but it never happened. I suppose I wanted to recreate the magic we never got a chance to share. But instead, it’s turned into a nightmare.’
‘And whose idea was it to go for a weekend away near Hastings?’
‘Will’s.’
‘Why? How come he chose there?’
Jo is silent a while, her mind whirring. ‘Oh God, Lou. He said that someone from the theatre had mentioned how lovely it was down here. That we should come down and explore the area.’ She sucks in a breath. ‘Will only wanted to come down here because of her, didn’t he? He was probably planning on slipping away for a few hours to go and see Suzanne.’ Jo shudders at the thought.
Vaguely, she hears Louise’s voice down the line, trying to make her see sense, trying to help her.
But Jo is distracted. Will is standing across the other side of the road, his padded jacket zipped up to the collar – the one she eventually retrieved from his office at school, along with his other discarded belongings when it was clear he wasn’t coming back. He’s watching her, his face devoid of expression.
Will… She reaches out a hand to him but he just stands there, on the other side of the road. It may as well be the other side of the world.
Jo turns and walks back towards Suzanne’s house. Will follows her, still on the other side of the street.
‘Jo, are you there?’
Louise’s tone whips Jo back to the present.
‘Yes, sorry. I’m listening.’
‘I was just saying, if you were in court, your story would be thrown out by the judge. Even your own lawyer would be chuckling. Now, listen to me. Yes, Will probably chose Hastings because of a recommendation from someone at work. And perhaps that same woman, Suzanne, had a crush on him, hence the pictures. It’s not so much of a coincidence that you looked at her house, if you think about it. How many houses are there in that area to house-sit anyway? You were bound to view hers online when you went through the search results and, when you saw the photographs of Will, it’s entirely natural you were curious. But you have no proof she’s done anything bad to Will or was even having an affair with him. Has she told you the name of the person she’s ensured will “never come back”?’ Louise sounds breathless.
‘Yes,’ Jo says, heading up the front drive, glancing back over her shoulder. ‘She told me his name is Bill.’ And it’s just as a car comes screaming round the sharp corner that Will steps out into the road.
Thirty-Six
‘If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, eh?’
‘Beat who?’ Jo says to Suzanne, standing in the doorway. Simon is crouching down by the wood burner, carefully placing more kindling on the fire he’s lit. A text comes in from Louise but Jo doesn’t read it, rather switches her phone to silent instead, putting it in her pocket. She can’t take another dressing-down, even though she means well.
‘Us. You can’t beat us, Jo, so you may as well join in. Come and sit. Si will get you one of these.’ She raises her drink – a measure of something rich and amber. ‘You look as though you need it. We’ve just been talking about the past. It helps me, you see.’ Suzanne taps the side of her head.
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em… One of Will’s favourite expressions, Jo thinks as she edges towards the sofa. It was what he’d said when he’d had no choice but to increase his hours at the school to full-time. Her past. Her Will. Her missing future.
‘Thanks,’ she says, looking up at Simon as he hands her a drink.
‘So who’s your go-to rock in life, Jo?’ Suzanne asks, glancing at Simon.
Jo can’t help bristling inside, even though a part of her wants to warm to the woman, to see her as nothing more than an innocent party who’s been kind enough to invite her into her home. Her manner is easy and unaffected. She’s confident yet unassuming. Brash but in an endearing way. And she’s inquisitive and full of… life, despite her life-changing accident. Jo wants to admire her, but can’t. She knows she’s done something to Will.
‘Oh, that would be Louise,’ Jo says, knowing she’s on safe ground there. She won’t mention her husband, even though, of course, he was her rock. Her man. The love of her life. ‘She’s my best friend. We’ve known each other for years. Seems like forever.’ Jo finds herself smiling, feels bad for shutting Lou down on the phone just now, refusing to take her advice. ‘And we’re completely different in every way, but utterly the same. We could be sisters.’
Suzanne smiles. ‘The best of friends are always poles apart. You know what they say about opposites. How did you meet?’
Jo is aware of Simon clearing his throat, shifting on the armchair beside the sofa. ‘We were best friends at school – inseparable. Then we ended up studying in different cities, but we always kept in touch. Then Louise came back to the area we grew up in. She needed some clothes altering, so came in for some fittings and I worked some magic with my machine.’
Jo remembers the day as if it were yesterday, how they’d fallen right back into their easy friendship, chatting as if no time at all had passed.
‘It’s funny, but people open up when they’re stripped to their underwear and being measured. Sometimes it gets pretty intimate.’ Jo laughs, feels the warmth of the drink trickle down her throat. ‘She was telling me about her life, her work, her loves. Despite her profession – she’s a solicitor – she seemed somehow vulnerable, softer than the Louise I remembered. And she’d just met a guy, who’s now her husband. We ended up reconnecting.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Suzanne said. ‘Have you got a picture of her?’
Jo smiles, feeling more relaxed, even though every part of her mind screams not to let her guard down. She pulls out her phone, quickly reading the message from Louise.
Just come home, Jo. I’m worried about you. Enough is enough x
She shakes her head, switching screens, scrolling back through her photos. ‘This is us a couple of weekends ago. Louise is always having me over to hers. She’s been an absolute gem since…’ Jo trails off, clears her throat. ‘Archie, her husband, cooked for us. We’d had a couple of drinks so excuse the silly faces.’ Jo laughs at the picture – the pair of them with their arms slung around each other, Jo blowing a pout in Louise’s direction, Louise staring straight at the camera, making a slightly demented-looking face.
‘She seems…’ Suzanne takes hold of Jo’s phone, almost to the point of pulling it from her when Jo grips onto it a beat too long. A brief tug of war. She studies it, pushing her glasses onto her nose, zooming in on the pair of them in Louise’s kitchen.
Jo holds out her hand. ‘Let me show you another,’ she says, just wanting her phone back. If another text alert comes in from Louise, she doesn’t want Suzanne to read it. ‘Here, this is us having lunch. We always try to meet for a sandwich once a week.’ Jo flashes her a quick look at the selfie she took of them in their regular café the other week. ‘There’s a lovely little place just—’
‘I know you,’ Suzanne says suddenly, still staring at the screen, that strange look in her eyes again.
Jo retracts her phone quickly, sliding it under her leg.
‘I know you…’ she repeats, staring at the ceiling, her face contorting into a strange expression. She pulls a cushion from the sofa, hugging it tightly to her chest. Her fingers sink into it, clawing and digging at the fabric and her shoulders rise an
d fall in time with her quickening breaths. It’s as if her eyes are coated with a film, as if she’s not seeing real life any more.
‘Suze?’ Simon says. He’s immediately beside her, kneeling down, hands on her wrists. ‘It’s OK. You’re at home. You’re safe. Can you hear me? Look at me, Suze, it’s Si. It’s OK…’ His voice is calm and comforting. ‘Ground yourself… you know the drill.’
But Suzanne suddenly convulses, her back arching and her head thrown back against the back of the sofa. A wail erupts from somewhere deep inside her as if she’s possessed.
‘Nooo… oooo…’ she cries, flinching and putting her hands up in front of her face as if to shield herself from something.
It’s almost as if she’s reliving something, Jo thinks. Something neither she nor Simon are privy to.
‘What’s happening?’ Jo whispers, though he’s more preoccupied with calming Suzanne. She’s curled up into a ball now, writhing as if she’s in pain. Her hands are over her face and she’s twisted sideways on the sofa.
‘It’ll pass, don’t worry,’ he says, putting a cushion under her head. He strokes her hair. ‘Suze, take it steady now. Have a sip of your drink when you’re ready, it’ll help you relax.’
Suzanne gradually calms, her breathing steadily slowing. After ten minutes or so, when it seems as though she’s fallen asleep, Simon stands up and hoists her into his arms, as if he’s done it many times before. He carries her out and Jo hears him going upstairs, the floorboards above creaking, the muffled sound of his soothing voice in the bedroom.
‘She’s fine,’ he says a while later, coming back down. Jo has hardly dared move, her mind racing to find a link between what happened and the photographs she showed Suzanne.
‘She’s sleeping.’ Simon picks up his drink and takes a long sip.
‘I feel terrible, as though it was my fault. Thank goodness you were here,’ Jo says quietly. ‘Does she have epilepsy? It seemed… so scary. Like she was fitting.’
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 20
