‘I know, I know,’ she says, sniffing and wiping her face with the back of her hand. ‘But my phone’s dead and I can’t bloody get out of here.’ She sits up suddenly, rummaging through the box of photographs and papers on the floor. She pulls out a newspaper cutting, scanning through it. It’s what Suzanne wanted her to see, as though she’s forming links, putting two and two together. Though how she knows about Jo’s involvement in the accident, she has no idea. She supposes the picture of Will in her wallet sealed it. Triggered something inside her, even if she doesn’t quite know what yet.
‘I don’t understand. If she knows who you are, why she didn’t report you?’ Jo says to Will. He just stares at her as she thinks back to what Will had told her about that night when they were in the cottage. It was all such a shock, all such a blur, that she tried to forget it over the coming weeks. And then Will had disappeared.
‘I lied for you,’ Jo whispers to him, waving the newspaper cutting in his face. ‘I sat with the police after you disappeared, telling them there was no reason for you to take off or run away. That there was nothing wrong with you or our life together, that we were happy, that nothing unusual had happened.’ She snorts then. ‘If only I’d not been so blind. Not been so fixated on having your baby. We were never going to get pregnant anyway – there’s something wrong with me. There must be.’
She sees Will staring at the news clipping. Holds it up for him.
Woman Left for Dead Survives Brutal Hit and Run
‘But you’ve already seen this, haven’t you? That’s how you knew she was OK. But you didn’t think to tell me the truth when the rest of the world bloody well knew.’ Jo fights to keep her voice down but the anger inside her is building. ‘The whole world except Suzanne and me, that is,’ she adds. ‘She lost her memory from the time of the accident. She must have had the pictures of you from before, when you were seeing her… I don’t understand. And I don’t really want to. I just want to get out!’
Jo goes to the window, pushing past where Will is standing. She pulls back the net curtains and twists the handle, but the window is firmly locked. She bangs on the glass, but there’s no one in sight – the front of the house shielded from the lane by thick bushes and trees anyway. She takes another swipe at the dressing table, sending all the things she’d rearranged onto the carpet again. Then she hurls herself onto the bed, curled up into a ball, her face buried in the pillow, unable to cry now even if she wanted to.
She doesn’t know how long she lies there for, doesn’t know if she properly falls asleep or not – just that she forces herself to switch off from the world, from reality, praying that Louise has the good sense to call someone to help her. Though she doesn’t know how, as she has no idea where Suzanne’s house is.
All she knows is that she can hear her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears, pounding in time with the fear running through her veins. And, when Will sits down on the bed beside her, when his soothing words calm and lull her, she doesn’t fight him off. Doesn’t scream at him like she wants to. Instead, she closes her eyes and waits…
Forty-Four
It’s the noise that wakes her. A doorbell. Banging. Voices. Raised voices. It’s coming from downstairs. Beneath her.
Jo sits up, not quite sure where she is until she sees the photos of Will crumpled and creased on the end of the bed from where she’s had her feet on them, the box of papers on the floor, her dead mobile phone and useless set of keys lying beside her on the duvet. And then she remembers that she’s locked in.
‘Christ…’ She holds her head, takes a deep breath to steady herself. She has no idea how long she’s been asleep.
Jo hears women’s voices below. It sounds as though they’re in the hall. As if there’s a visitor and Suzanne is trying to get rid of her. She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, feeling dizzy and disorientated in the now-dark room. She pushes her hair off her face and goes to the window, spotting the roof of another car parked in the drive, but it’s impossible to tell what kind because it’s dark outside. It’s not Simon’s car – there’s no need for him to drive here anyway. And it’s certainly not a police car, which, despite her better instincts, is what she longs to see right now.
Just as she turns away, she thinks she sees movement inside the car, but can’t be sure.
She goes to the door again and bangs hard on it. ‘Hello?’ she calls out. ‘Anyone there? I’m up here, will you let me out?’ She tries to keep her tone calm, but loud enough for someone to hear. She doesn’t want to rile Suzanne, but equally she wants to be heard, to get out. ‘Hel-lo?’ she calls even louder, hearing shouting below.
She listens, straining at the door but it’s hard to hear much with Spangle barking. And not his usual friendly barks either, when he greets someone. They’re underpinned by a growl.
‘No!’ she hears someone cry out. It sounds like Suzanne. Then there are footsteps thumping up the stairs, more shouting – another woman’s voice. Getting closer all the time.
‘Get off me!’ the other person shouts. Then the sound of someone tripping, a thud, a cry of pain.
‘Hello? Who’s there?’ Jo yells through the door. ‘Can you help me? I’m locked in!’ She glances around the bedroom, looking for some kind of weapon in case Suzanne still has the knife. There’s nothing much, apart from the small dressing table stool, so she grabs that, bracing herself behind the door, holding it in front of her, the legs facing out as if she’s about to tame a lion.
There’s a bang from the other side of the door, as if someone has been shoved into it, followed by a shriek.
‘Just get out,’ Suzanne shouts. ‘You’ve no right to be in here. I’ll call the police.’
Then Jo hears what sounds like the keys being taken from the lock on the other side of the door, then a scuffle – grunting and more shrieks and the jangling of keys as they’re dropped. Jo takes her chance and swipes Simon’s set of keys off the bed, wrestling with the stool while fumbling to get the correct key in the door while she has the chance. It feels as though every cell of her body is shaking.
And then the key is in. Quickly, Jo turns it, the noise of two women shouting at each other on the landing growing louder as she clicks the Yale lock too, opens the door, not knowing what to expect.
At first, it’s not clear – just a mass of limbs and bodies scrapping in the doorway as she sees Suzanne’s hands tearing at someone’s long hair, her face twisted and contorted from effort.
‘Stop it!’ Jo says, unable to get past them, stunned by what she’s seeing.
Suzanne grabs a handful of the other woman’s hair, making her scream. Then Suzanne plants her palm over her face, shoving her backwards so she stumbles into the room, knocking into Jo. Both women stagger backwards as Jo tries to grab onto something to stop them falling – the door, the wall, the corner of a chest of drawers, anything. But the other woman is too heavy and sends them both stumbling backwards until Jo’s legs give way and she goes down – the other woman landing on top of her.
Everything falls silent. Just the sound of their breathing as they lie on the floor, entwined, stunned, Jo trapped underneath. It seems like an age until someone moves.
‘Jo… oh my God…’ The woman says, rolling onto her side while pulling a face. ‘What has she done to you? Why are you even in here?’
Jo can hardly breathe or speak – partly because she’s been winded and partly because she’s just seen Suzanne slam the door closed and heard her lock it again.
But mainly because of who the woman is.
‘Louise…’ she whispers, rolling out from underneath her. ‘Are you OK? How dare she attack a pregnant woman. And what are you doing here, anyway? Bloody hell, Lou, you should be home, resting. Did Archie bring you? How did you even know where I was?’ Jo hoists herself to her feet, part of her grateful that her best friend is here… but mostly she feels dreadful that she’s been drawn into this – her mess – and now desperately worried about the baby.
‘Wait
… whoa,’ Louise says, catching her breath, holding her bulging belly as she turns round and onto all fours. ‘Too many questions. Let me steady myself.’
Jo slides her arms beneath her armpits and helps her up slowly, conscious of the huge bump hanging down beneath her. Briefly, Louise grabs hold of her belly again, making a pained face.
‘Are you in pain?’
Louise makes a grunting sound as Jo helps her up.
‘How did you get here?’ Jo asks. ‘Are you with Archie?’
‘I drove,’ Louise says, finally standing, sweeping the hair off her face and adjusting her maternity top. ‘Just because I’m pregnant, it doesn’t mean I’m pathetic.’ She grimaces again, holding her stomach, taking short, sharp breaths and blowing out through her mouth. Jo suspects she’s in more pain than she’s letting on.
‘I know you’re not pathetic, Lou, but it’s… well, frankly, it’s not safe here. Suzanne has turned out to be… unhinged. I mean, look!’ She sweeps her hands around the room then points at the door. ‘And we’re both locked in now. When we were talking earlier, I was about to phone the police but then my battery ran out. The shock must have made me fall asleep for what must be hours, and I had these wild dreams about Will and deer and cars and pub quizzes and a dog on the beach and… and…’
Jo stops when the hand goes over her mouth.
‘Shhh, it’s OK now. I’m here. God knows what’s been going on, who this crazy woman is, but I don’t like it and I’ve come to get you out.’
‘She is crazy,’ Jo says, feeling a sweat break out. ‘And that’s why you shouldn’t be here. I love you for coming, but I don’t like that you’re at risk. It’s my job to get you out, Lou.’ She desperately wants to tell her the truth: how Will left Suzanne – his lover – for dead on the roadside, and how she suspects this is some kind of sick revenge by Suzanne. And how calling the police will likely end up with her being arrested for conspiracy or perverting the course of justice or whatever it’s called – but she knows she can’t. ‘Here, give me your phone, Lou. Let me call for help.’ She holds out her hand. ‘Please, I’m going to call the police.’
Louise’s mouth drops open and both women stare at each other. It takes a moment for Jo to realise what Louise is about to say – and a moment for Louise to work out how to say it.
‘My phone… it’s in the car,’ she says, hanging her head.
Jo is about to speak but Louise halts her, holding up her hands.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen, did I? I thought you’d maybe blown things out of proportion when we spoke, but knew I wouldn’t have had a wink of sleep without knowing that you were OK. I tried to call you back but couldn’t get through. Archie’s buggered off in a strop, so I thought I may as well make the drive down. He’d have stopped me otherwise. I got the address from the House Angels website. I set up the login details, remember?’ Louise speaks quickly, as if to get everything out before catching her breath again, sucking in air sharply, her hands wrapping round her huge belly.
‘Oh, Lou… I can’t tell you how good it is to see you and how grateful I am for you caring, but you don’t look well. It really was madness you driving all this way. Here, sit on the bed.’ Jo glances at the door again, wondering how the hell they’re going to get out.
Louise lowers herself, making a little noise as she sits down. ‘Oh God…’ she says again, breathless, making a pained face as her palms splay out over her baby.
‘Shit, Lou, you don’t think you’re…?’ Jo drops to her knees in front of Louise, looking up at her. ‘Are these proper contractions, do you think? Are you in labour?’
‘I’ve… I’ve been trying to ignore them,’ Louise says, panting again. ‘They started on the motorway, when I was halfway here. I pulled over at the services to get some water, hoping they’d subside if I moved about. If anything, that’s just made them worse.’ She moans again – a long, low sound coming from deep inside her. ‘I thought they were just Braxton Hicks this morning, but I must have been mistaken. I reckon I’ve been in labour for a few hours. I’m pretty sure the baby’s coming.’
Forty-Five
‘That’s it, I’ve had enough,’ Jo says, leaping to her feet. She goes to the door and bangs loudly on it with her fists. She doesn’t care if Suzanne has a knife or not. She just needs to get help for Louise. ‘Suzanne, let us out of here! My friend is in labour. Her contractions are getting closer together.’
Silence the other side of the door. Just the sound of Louise’s intermittent moans behind her.
‘Suzanne, for God’s sake, can you hear me? If nothing else, then please call an ambulance for her. She needs medical help. And soon!’ Jo frantically looks around, lunges for the dressing table stool, picking it up and slamming it against the door. But the legs splinter off like matchsticks and she hurls it down onto the carpet, banging the door with her fists again.
‘Ow-ww…’ Louise says, rocking back and forth on the bed. ‘Oh, my back,’ she wails, trying to rub it herself.
Jo sits down beside her, pressing the heel of her hand at the locus of the pain, circling it round as Louise half rises, swaying her hips from side to side. ‘It’s OK, it’s OK, I’m here…’ She pulls her close as Louise tips back her head, wailing again, before panting through the contraction, remembering what she learnt in antenatal classes.
‘Shit,’ she says when it subsides, her face damp with sweat. ‘Oh Jo, it really hurts and I’m probably not even halfway dilated.’ She pants again, sweating. ‘I don’t want to have my baby in this room…’ She lets out a few sobs, gripping Jo’s hands. ‘I want Archie, and to be in the hospital I chose, with my obstetrician and my midwife and my birth plan. How the hell is this… ah-hhh…’ She heaves herself up, waddling over to the wall, her legs apart, hands spread out on the floral wallpaper as she rocks from side to side, wailing and moaning as another contraction surges through her.
‘They’re getting closer together,’ Jo says, desperately worried. ‘And there’s not even any water in here,’ she mutters under her breath, furious that Suzanne has done this. She takes to the door with her fists again, yelling, almost resigned to delivering Louise’s baby herself. But what if there’s a problem – with Louise or the baby? She has no medical training, wouldn’t know what to do in an emergency. She wants to be angry at Louise for being so stupid coming here at this late stage in her pregnancy, but she knows she was only trying to help. Under the circumstances, she’d have done the same.
‘Turn your face away,’ Jo says when there’s a lull in Louise’s groaning. She picks up one of the stool legs and brings it down, end on, repeatedly on the door handle, trying to break the lock. But after a dozen attempts at smashing it, she realises it’s futile. The door is way stronger than the now-splintered stool leg. ‘Christ,’ she mutters under her breath, not wanting to scare Louise. But their situation doesn’t look good. She scans around the room, searching for something that she could use as a lever, something stronger than wood and narrow enough to slip between the door and its frame.
She pulls open all the drawers, flinging stuff out – clothes, pillowcases, old cosmetics, more papers. There’s simply nothing she can use. Not even a pair of nail scissors. Jo’s panicked breathing is almost as frantic as Louise’s as she wonders if the only way out is to smash a window. She goes up to the window, splays her hands on the glass, her heart sinking when she sees that all the panes are double-glazed. She quickly searches around behind the curtains, on the windowsill, in case there’s a hidden key… anything to get them open. But there’s nothing. She scans the room again, looking for something weighty to smash the glass with, but apart from the useless stool legs, there’s nothing heavy enough. She can hardly hurl an entire dressing table at the window.
Taking a moment to think, Jo stands there, her shoulders rising and falling as she suppresses the huge scream that wants to burst from her, the anger – about everything. It all wants to come out – the rage she’s been harbouring, the hope she
’s been clinging to. It’s all futile, has kept her on hold all these months as if she’s barely been alive herself. It’s been no way to live – seeing Will around every corner, talking to him, smelling him, hearing him.
He’s not real. He’s gone. He’s never coming back… she yells inside her head. She just wants Will to go away, to stop haunting her, to let her live her life.
But now her best friend is caught up in it. Her pregnant best friend.
Jo stands rigid, her eyes screwed up, not having a clue what to do. She hears her mother’s words in her head, flooding through her. She was most likely right about Will, but she’s not been able to face it, just wants everything to be back to how it was a year ago. But equally she knows that what she must do right now is focus on Louise. And the baby she’s about to give birth to. The baby she’s going to have to deliver.
Jo slides her hands down her face. You’ve got this, Jo, she tells herself. For Louise, for her baby.
She takes a deep breath, resigned to the fact that the only way out is going to be through the window – even if she has to jump. Louise wails again, panting through another contraction – the sound of her discomfort even stronger this time, more intense.
‘Breathe through it,’ Jo says, holding her again, feeling completely helpless, not knowing whether to focus on getting out or tending to her friend. ‘You’re doing great. Everything’s going to be OK. I’ll make sure of it.’ She rubs her back, the other hand tucking her hair behind her ear, getting it off her face, out of her mouth, as she wails. Louise mustn’t know how terrified she is.
‘It’s OK, Lou. I’m here. You’re going to be fine, and your baby is going to be fine too,’ she says slowly, clearly. ‘I’m so proud to be here with you right now, do you know that?’ Jo feels the tears welling. She laughs and sniffs at the same time, trying to stay strong. ‘We’re going to be OK, you and I…’
The Happy Couple: An absolutely unputdownable and gripping psychological thriller Page 25
