‘You look as white as a sheet, Jo. Everything OK?’
Jo thinks she nods. She’s not quite sure.
‘How’s it going with Suzanne? I know she can be a bit full on.’
‘That’s… that’s why I came round, actually.’ She knows she needs to get the words out, just go home – but… he’s a cop. A police officer. Why would he lie to her about his job, make her believe he was a counsellor? Why the hell did she say the things she did?
Or did you just hear what you wanted to hear, Jo? As ever, you added two and two together and made three hundred and twenty-seven.
‘Suzanne’s not very well, actually. That’s why I’m here. I’m going home now, so I thought maybe you could check in on her?’ She stares at Simon, watching him intently, almost as if he’s now a different person to the man she met only a few days ago. The man she kissed. ‘And… and you’re a police officer?’ she says, feeling stupid for stating the obvious as he stands there, in his uniform, dunking teabags in mugs.
‘Thanks for letting me know about Suzanne,’ he says, shaking his head and sighing. ‘She should never have come home from the treatment facility. She’s been hanging her hopes on it for a long while now. I wish she’d stayed.’
There’s so much Jo wants to say – no, blurt out – but with Simon standing there dressed like that, she keeps a tight check on what comes out of her mouth. Already her mind is working overtime, trying to recall what details she revealed. But she’d had too much to drink that night and everything is fuzzy in her mind.
‘And yes, I am,’ Simon laughs. ‘Who’d have guessed?’ He looks down at himself, tapping the ‘police’ badge on the front of his jacket. ‘Surely you remember that? From when we chatted the other night?’
‘Chatted?’ Jo says, wanting to say ‘confessed, more like’. But she puts the mug of tea to her mouth instead, willing her hand to stop shaking. She must have missed something, been too wrapped up in her own problems. ‘Yes, oh yes, of course I remember. For a moment, silly me thought you were…’ She shakes her head, trails off.
‘Thought I was…? Apart from devilishly handsome and charming, of course.’ He laughs, sitting down next to her, unfazed.
‘Actually, I thought you were some kind of therapist. As in mental health. I probably poured my heart out to you too much and…’ Jo thinks, wondering how to take back everything she said. She shakes her head. ‘Which is why I was probably talking a load of gibberish the other night. Alcohol makes me… well, it makes me tell thunderous lies. I can’t help it. So don’t believe anything I told you.’ Jo throws up her palms in the biggest nonchalant shrug she can muster. ‘OK?’
Simon’s hand is suddenly on Jo’s, his fingers gently gripping her wrist, mug still in her hand.
‘You’re shaking,’ he says. ‘Just because I’m a cop, it doesn’t change anything. I like you. I know you live what seems like a million miles away, but if there’s any chance we can still somehow see each other once you’ve gone, I’d be willing to make the effort.’
Jo makes a whimpering sound.
‘You’ve brought a little bit of sunshine to East Wincombe these last few days, you know. Do you really have to go so soon?’
Jo turns away, wondering what would happen if she just ran for the door, leapt in her car, started the engine and drove off. But between her and freedom, she sees Will – his arms firmly clamped across his chest, his body blocking the doorway, his head slowly shaking from side to side.
Forty-One
Then
The croissants were warming in the tiny oven. Will was relighting the living room fire from the still-glowing embers of the night before. The fabric of the little cottage had retained its warmth, heated from the blaze we’d had going all last night. And Will and I were still toasty from our lie-in, having woken up in each other’s arms.
It was perfect.
But I couldn’t erase Will’s nightmare from my mind.
And, because of that, the temperature in the cottage may as well have been sub-zero.
I shivered in the tiny kitchen, hugging my robe around me.
Just ask him…
‘Hey,’ I said gently, putting a pot of coffee on the little table that separated the kitchen space from the living area. ‘Come and have some food.’
Will turned, looking blank before a smile spread over his face. ‘Thank you,’ he said, though I still thought he looked drained and exhausted. ‘I’m glad we came away.’ He glanced at me a couple of times, almost as if he was expecting me to say something.
He took a croissant, ripping it open, the steam rising from its middle. He pushed his knife into the butter, spreading it liberally, then took some strawberry jam, dolloping it on top.
‘You didn’t sleep so well last night,’ I said. ‘You were restless. Tossing and turning. And… and talking.’
Will immediately rolled his eyes. ‘Probably rehearsing my new lines. You know what I’m like,’ he said, taking a long sip of coffee, smile lines around his eyes as he looked at me over the rim of the mug.
‘Is your latest play a murder mystery, then?’ I said without thinking. I knew it wasn’t, but couldn’t let it lie. Last night had been distressing.
‘Just some audition pieces,’ Will said, sounding more guarded. ‘Why?’
I couldn’t help noticing the quiver in his voice, the look in his eye. We’d known each other too long. Knew all the gestures. The signs.
‘Last night, Will, in your sleep…’ I took a deep breath, jabbing the knife into the cold butter, hacking off a piece far too big for the chunk of broken croissant. ‘You were saying some strange things. Some scary things.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he came back immediately. Unsatisfying, like a text message that was read and replied to without much thought. A placeholder. A thoughtless emoji. Something to delay the inevitable. ‘For keeping you awake,’ he added, a quick glance up as he indulged in his breakfast. ‘This is delicious, by the way. Thank you.’
‘Will, no, listen to me. In your sleep you said that someone was going to hurt me. And you said that you thought you’d… that you’d killed her,’ I added, feeling my stomach churn. ‘What were you talking about?’
I put my croissant down again, not hungry. I didn’t think I could eat anything ever again, not until Will had told me what was going on inside his head. Since Annabel’s party several weeks ago, he’d been acting completely out of character – more than could be attributed to the stress of his teaching job.
‘Something’s troubling you, Will,’ I continued. ‘And if you don’t tell me, if you can’t talk to me about what’s on your mind, then however perfect and romantic this break is, you’re going to ruin it for us. Christ, we don’t get away often and I just want to enjoy it. Not have to worry that someone wants to hurt me, or about what you may or may not have done. At least try to put my mind at rest.’
Will stared at me. ‘Like I said, it was just a bad dream.’
I stared back, watched as he bit into his croissant, not letting go of my gaze.
A moment later, I slammed down my knife, chipping the corner of the plate. ‘Bollocks to that, Will. It was not just a bad dream.’ I stood up, my hands leaning on the edge of the table as I bent forward, got up close in his face. ‘You damn well tell me what’s going on, William Carter, now, or I’m going home. Alone. You have five minutes to spill.’
Will dropped his croissant, his mouth gaping open. I had to sit down again, I was shaking so much.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Really. And everything’s fine now.’
‘I know you inside out and upside down. I know you better than you know yourself, for God’s sake,’ I said, forcing myself not to shout again. ‘I also know you’re prone to anxiety and low mood sometimes, and I understand that. Haven’t I always helped you through the darker times?’
Will gave a small nod, staring down at the table.
‘But this is different. This isn’t you. Something – or someone – has got to you and… and
now I’m hearing that someone wants to hurt me, that you thought you’d killed them. You were having a conversation with me in your sleep.’ I clutched my head for a second. ‘I mean, what the hell am I supposed to think, Will? At least try to convince me everything’s OK.’ I sighed. ‘I just don’t know what’s got into you… since that night a few weeks back at Annabel’s, you’ve just been… not Will. Not the man I married.’
‘OK,’ Will said, standing up. He wiped his big hands down his face then shoved them in his pockets, sighing. He walked over to the front window of the cottage, staring out across the vale, turning his head back to me briefly. I saw the pain in his eyes. ‘If I tell you, Jo, it will change everything between us. Forever. Are you prepared for that?’ He was shaking.
I took a breath. ‘Everything’s changed anyway, Will.’ I turned in my chair slightly to face him, holding onto the wooden back. ‘You’re not the same. We’re not the same.’
Will gave a brief nod. ‘You remember when I hit something when we were driving home from the party that night?’
I nodded. ‘Yes, you killed a deer, the poor thing. I know you didn’t mean to, and—’
‘It wasn’t a deer, Jo.’
I stiffened, said nothing.
‘It was a person. A… a woman. She… she came out of nowhere. I couldn’t stop in time. I didn’t mean to hit her.’ He stared at me, unblinking, waiting for a reaction.
I said nothing for a moment. Wasn’t sure I could move, let alone speak. I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him correctly. I felt sick.
‘A woman? You hit a woman?’
I felt my eyes narrow to disbelieving slits, my jaw tightening as my teeth pressed together. My fists balled so that my nails dug into my palms, and it seemed as if the floor fell away from beneath me.
In my mind, I replayed the moment I was startled awake in the car that night – a loud thump, my head lurching forward, the seat belt cutting into my left shoulder and across my chest. I didn’t know what had happened. Then Will was cursing, telling me to stay put, fumbling with his seat belt, leaping out of the car.
It had taken me a while to realise where I was – I’d been exhausted when we’d left Birmingham and the couple of drinks had gone to my head so I couldn’t help nodding off, despite fighting it, despite wanting to stay awake and keep Will company. But I’d known I was in safe hands with him at the wheel, that he wouldn’t have risked having a drink; that, bad mood aside, he’d drive us the forty-five minutes home without a hitch.
‘Don’t worry, I… I think I just clipped something. Probably the kerb,’ he’d said breathlessly, poking his head back into the car before slamming the door closed behind him. It was a quiet road, at least – I recognised it as the edge of our town, very close to home but still not yet quite under the street lights. I didn’t think there were kerbs out here, though. It was more soft verges.
I’d seen Will go round the front of the car then, his face impassive in the headlights, frozen still for a moment. Then he’d walked around the back, staring at the ground, frowning, his face not giving much away. I’d thought he was checking the tyres, making sure he’d not blown one. But I hadn’t paid much attention, just wanted him to get back in the car so we could go home and get to bed.
I’d pulled my coat around me then, twisted onto my side trying to get comfortable, rubbing at my sore shoulder before closing my eyes again. With the engine off, the temperature was falling but I couldn’t help drifting into a light sleep, feeling guilty for not getting out too. Whatever it was, I knew Will would sort it.
Then I’d jolted awake again, even though I’d not been deeply asleep.
‘Everything OK?’ I’d said, stretching as Will got back in and buckled up again. His hands were shaking.
‘Yeah, though it wasn’t pretty,’ he’d said, pulling a face – a mix of sadness and disgust. ‘I hit a deer. I’m afraid it—’
‘A deer?’ I remember being incredulous and turned in my seat to look at the road behind us.
‘Jo, don’t. It’s not nice…’
Will had made a retching sound then, fumbling with the keys to start the engine again. ‘I dragged it off the road. It wasn’t huge, but… oh…’
‘It’s dead?’ I remembered asking, just catching the tight nod Will gave as he drove off, juddering through the gears, forgetting to change up from third until we reached home – the engine straining as much as Will seemed to be until we pulled up in front of our house.
‘I’m sorry you had to deal with that, love,’ I’d said as we went inside. I noticed how his hands were shaking as he unlocked the door, recalled him coming in to get the cleaning materials and the mallet before going back outside and then, when he came in again, going straight upstairs for a shower, putting his clothes in the washing machine afterwards. He loved animals. It had clearly got to him. Countless times that night, before we’d gone to bed, I’d told him that it wasn’t his fault. That if it was a young creature, it would have been skittish and terrified and, aside from putting us in danger by swerving to avoid it, there was nothing he could have done. That these things sometimes happen. But I knew he hadn’t slept, that he’d been tossing and turning all night long.
And nothing more had been said about it. Until now, I’d pretty much forgotten the whole incident.
‘Who?’ I whispered, sitting at the breakfast table, barely able to speak. ‘Who did you hit?’
Will shook his head. Looked away.
‘You lied,’ I said, still whispering. ‘You lied to me about something so very serious.’
Silence. Will leant on the windowsill, head down.
‘Was she… is she…?’ I couldn’t get the words out. Too many thoughts were tumbling through my mind. How we should have called an ambulance, called the police, made statements, taken a breathalyser… ‘Did she die, Will?’ I let out a whimpering sound, curling up, head down. I couldn’t stand it.
When I dared look up, Will gave a barely perceptible nod. His eyes were closed. ‘At the time, I thought so, yes. That’s why I panicked. That’s why I drove off. That’s why I lied to you, Jo,’ he said, swinging round, his fists balled at his sides. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were quickly heaving in time with his short breaths. ‘To protect you. It would have been the end of us. The end of everything.’
‘Protect me?’ I whispered, unable to take in what he was telling me. ‘What about the poor woman? Her family?’
‘There was nothing to be done for her. No pulse. No breath. I couldn’t rouse her.’ Will came over, dragged the chair up close to mine. He sat down and took my hands in his. I wanted to pull away but couldn’t move. ‘I know it was wrong. So very, very wrong. And I deserve to pay for it, but at the time, nothing was going to bring her back to life, Jo. And that’s why I ran. I pulled her off the road and… and she rolled into the ditch. I was weak and terrified and deserve to—’
‘Shut up!’ I yelled, yanking my hands from him. ‘Don’t touch me.’
I choked out an angry sob, not even able to cry properly. Then I screamed – a deep and dark sound rising up from the pit of my belly. Pure rage coming out.
‘What do you fucking suggest we do now, Will?’ I stood, upturning the breakfast table, the plates and mugs smashing onto the quarry-tiled floor. Will flinched. ‘Everything is ruined. Our entire lives are ruined. You killed a woman. You’ve lied to me for weeks. There’s nothing left between us, Will. What you did is unforgivable.’
I sobbed – starting slowly, disbelievingly, until thunderous cries bellowed out of me, unstoppably. I dropped onto the sofa, burying my face in the cushion, howling until there was nothing left to come out. I looked up at Will, glaring at him over the back of the sofa, my face streaked and red. He was still sitting beside the upturned table, leaning forward, forearms on his thighs, head down.
‘So you’ve just been waiting for a knock at the door from the police these last few weeks?’ I wiped my face on my dressing gown sleeve, tears and snot mixed up. ‘What were you going to
tell me, exactly, when they arrested you for murder?’
‘It wasn’t murder,’ Will said quietly, staring at the floor.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Hoping to get off with manslaughter, were you? Jesus fucking Christ, Will.’ I shook my head.
‘No, I mean it wasn’t murder or manslaughter. The woman… the woman isn’t dead.’
Jo half growled, half screamed in frustration. ‘Can’t you just tell me the truth for once?’
‘I found out later that she survived. That’s all. There’s nothing more to say.’
‘Nothing more to say? What, so we just carry on with our normal lives while some poor woman faces the aftermath of a hit and run? What if she’s in a wheelchair for the rest of her life, Will? What if she’s lost a limb or has brain damage or… or, I don’t know. Any number of horrific things.’
‘She’s fine,’ Will said, refusing to look at me. ‘Her injuries weren’t life-changing.’
‘Well, I’m not fine!’ I said, lunging at him, my face right in his. Will flinched.
Then he took me by the wrists, standing up, towering over me.
‘Jo, you’re going to have to trust me on this. The woman survived. She’s getting on with her life, as we now need to do.’
‘I don’t know what to think any more…’ I trailed off, wanting everything to be how it was half an hour ago. I’d even have tolerated Will’s sour mood these last few weeks rather than know what I’d just found out. I relaxed my arms, stopped pulling away from him, dropping my shoulders. Will’s grip around my wrists loosened, pulling me gently into an embrace. I was exhausted. Spent – from being awake most of the night, but also from shock.
‘Just think about it, Jo – from my side. From our side. What’s the thing you – we – want most in the world right now?’
I looked up at him, recognising the old Will underneath the shame, the fear. ‘A baby,’ I whispered without hesitation.
‘Me too, my love. Me too. But if I’m arrested, if I’m put away for an innocent accident that wasn’t my fault, then we’re never going to be able to conceive, are we? Or be able to try IVF, if that’s the route you want to go down.’
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 23
