‘Well?’ I prompt.
‘Okay, so after you left the regatta, I had a call from Kelly to tell me that she was being arrested.’
My mouth falls open. Of all the things I expected her to say, this wasn’t one of them. ‘You’re joking, right?’
‘I’m not. I wish I was.’
‘Arrested for what, exactly?’
‘She didn’t say.’
‘Didn’t you ask?’
Fiona arches an eyebrow. ‘Of course I asked, but she couldn’t really say anything at the time. She was in the middle of it all.’
‘So what happens now?’ I know it’s selfish, but I’m hurt that Kelly called Fiona to look after Ryan and Sonny instead of me.
‘Well…’ Fiona’s wearing a sheepish expression.
‘What?’
‘I think your brother was the arresting officer, so maybe you could give him a call and get the lowdown.’
‘Ash arrested Kelly! What the hell did he think he was doing?’
‘His job, I presume.’
I scowl.
‘Sorry, but it’s true. Anyway, that’s beside the point; we have to find out what’s going on.’
‘I’ll give Ash a call, but you know what he’s like, he won’t tell me anything he’s not supposed to. It’s more than his job’s worth.’
Fiona nods in agreement. ‘Ryan and Sonny told me they had some woman staying with them – a friend, Sophie, I think her name was. Did Kelly mention anything to you about her having a friend to stay?’
‘No. I don’t know any Sophie.’
‘Me neither.’
‘Are you absolutely sure that’s her name?’
‘Definitely.’
‘What about a last name?’
Fiona shakes her head. ‘They didn’t mention a last name. But they did say that it was supposed to be a secret. They weren’t supposed to tell anyone she was staying. Kelly made them promise. In fact, they said she was staying in their attic, which is really strange, don’t you think?’
‘Very. Do you think Sophie is a criminal, and somehow Kelly’s got herself caught up in it?’
Fiona points at me. ‘Yes! You’re right. That must be it. That must be what’s happened. I knew Kelly wouldn’t have done anything illegal.’
‘But who is this Sophie? And what did she actually do?’
‘No idea.’ Fiona takes a breath. ‘Hate to say this, but it does sound just like something Kelly would do. She’s always helping people who’ve got themselves in trouble and they take advantage of her. She’s too soft-hearted for her own good.’
‘I know.’ I sigh, thinking about my own predicament and how I was coming here for the very same reason – to ask for her help. ‘What’s going to happen to her now?’
‘No idea.’ Fiona picks at her nail polish. ‘I called the station about half an hour ago, but they wouldn’t let me speak to her. They said to try again tomorrow.’
Something occurs to me. ‘Why are you here anyway? I thought you said the boys were staying at your place.’
Fiona looks away and blinks a couple of times. She looks like she might start crying.
‘Fi? Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ she snaps.
I bristle at her tone. ‘Sorry, I was only asking.’
‘No, I’m sorry for biting your head off. Sonny forgot his homework, and then Nathan and I… we had a bit of a bust-up, so I came round to get it – the homework.’
‘Sorry you’re having a crappy evening.’ I offer up a lukewarm smile. ‘I’d have thought Nathan would be in a great mood after his win today.’
‘Yeah, well, he wasn’t too thrilled at having visitors to stay. He wanted to go out and celebrate.’
‘You mean because you’ve got Kelly’s boys?’ I think Nathan’s a bit of an arsehole, but I’m still surprised that he would be so churlish – he always seems desperate to be the good guy.
Fiona flushes. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. He’s fine with the boys, just cross with me for springing it on him.’
‘But that’s hardly your fault!’ I find myself annoyed with Nathan on Fiona’s behalf.
‘It is my fault. Look, I haven’t told you the whole story. I’ve made Nathan out to be the bad guy, but he’s not. It’ll be fine. I’ll go back home, and we’ll make up. It’s no big deal.’
But I can tell she’s covering up for him. There’s something else in her voice. Something she’s not telling me.
We agree to keep in touch over the next day or so and I offer to look after the boys if she needs me to. She waves away my offer, but I have a feeling she’ll change her mind if Nathan’s got any say in the matter. We agree that Fiona will go to the station tomorrow and if she doesn’t have any luck getting more information, then I’ll call Ash and try to get him to spill the beans. But I already know it’ll be a waste of time.
Fiona and I leave Kelly’s at the same time, parting ways at the end of the road as she heads to her multi-million-pound lakeside mansion, and I head home to my beautiful family in our modest home.
On the walk back, I realise that I’m still no nearer to working out what I’m supposed to do about the photos. And it doesn’t look like I’ll have a chance to discuss it with Kelly any time soon. She has far more important issues on her mind – like why she’s being held in police custody overnight. Poor Kelly. I hope she’s okay. And now, after tonight’s conversation with Fiona, I’m starting to doubt my theory that she’s behind the images. She didn’t seem at all threatening this evening. In fact, she seemed quite vulnerable.
Afternoon shifts into dusk and, despite being a Saturday, the roads are empty. This is a quiet residential area; all the regatta celebrations will have transferred to the pubs and bars in town. The organisers used to set up a marquee by the lake with a bar and disco that played on until the early hours, but that was vetoed several years ago after the lakeside residents’ committee complained about the noise.
I’m halfway home when I hear the soft shuffle of footsteps behind me. I want to turn around to see who it is, but that would look too paranoid. I remember having a conversation with some friends about women’s safety when walking alone. Ed said that if he ever finds himself walking behind a lone woman, he’ll always cross over to the other side of the road and fall back a little way, to make them feel less threatened. Whoever is behind me now obviously doesn’t have the same level of thoughtfulness. I speed up to a brisk walk, trying not to let my imagination run away with me. But after everything that’s been happening, it’s hard not to.
But it’s definitely not my imagination when I hear the footsteps behind me grow louder and faster, matching my own. My pulse quickens and I pray for someone to step out of their house, or for a car to pull up, for anyone else to come along. But there’s nothing other than our two sets of footsteps, my fast-beating heart and my ragged breath. Without slowing, I reach into my bag and fumble for my keys, arranging them between my fingers like a jagged knuckleduster.
I cross over the road, and now I know I’m not being paranoid because the footsteps are still behind me. Getting closer.
I can either turn around. Or I can run.
Suddenly, I don’t care about how stupid I look, I’m going to turn around and see who’s behind me. I stop walking, my heart in my mouth, my right hand still clutching my bunch of keys.
As I turn, the person behind me speaks.
‘Excuse me, do you know if I’m going in the right direction for Hazelmere Drive?’
My heart rate slows and the sick feeling in my stomach starts to melt away as I come face to face with a slim, pale-haired young woman wearing scruffy jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt.
‘You scared me half to death!’ I exhale with a relieved smile. ‘Thought you were a mugger.’
Her face falls. ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t think.’ She puts a hand on my arm, an oddly intimate gesture.
‘S’okay. Hazelmere Drive? You need to turn around and then take the second turning on the right. We passed it just
back there.’ I point down the road.
‘Okay, thanks.’ She gives me an odd little smile before walking away.
I watch her for a moment before turning around and heading home. But rather than feeling relieved that it wasn’t a mugger, that strange encounter has made me even more unsettled than before.
Twenty-Eight
KELLY
A shout from the cell next to mine makes me jump. It’s a man’s voice, slurred and aggressive, swearing at one of the police officers. Everything echoes here – the doors opening and closing, the voices, the footsteps. It’s how I imagine hell would be – not boiling infernos, but cold and detached and clinical. Lonely.
My own cell is a small rectangular box with a built-in bed, rubber mattress and a metal toilet in the corner. The walls are a dirty cream, and there’s a grid-like window way up high letting in a weak glow of fading daylight, supplemented by two ceiling strip lights that illuminate every depressing aspect.
All I can think about are my boys and what they must be thinking right now. Are they scared? Angry? Do they even know I’ve been arrested? Did I make the right call asking Fiona to look after them? Ryan and Sonny are more comfortable around Tia and Ed, but how could I have asked Tia, when her own brother is the person who arrested me?
Ash barely said two words to me on the drive to the station. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions about Sophie. About why I’d been arrested. The only thing he did say was that I was entitled to my own legal representation. But it’s Saturday night and I can’t get anyone here until at least Monday. My only other option is to use the duty solicitor. So that’s what I’ve agreed to do. I can’t afford to waste hours or days looking for my own lawyer. Ash said the duty solicitors are pretty good. Despite him being the one to arrest me, I still trust him. Ash isn’t the type of person to twist the law to his own advantage. At least I hope not.
A jangling of keys and the creak of the door handle jolts me from my thoughts, and I sit up straighter in anticipation of what’s next. The door opens. It’s Ash.
‘Hi, Kelly. The duty solicitor is waiting to see you. Do you want to come with me?’
I stand up on shaky legs and follow Ash down a brightly lit, blue corridor, past several more cell doors. I have so many more questions to ask him, but it would be a waste of time. I’ll save them for my solicitor.
Ash knocks on a door and opens it. Inside the interview room, seated at a table, is a dark-haired man in a grey suit. I’d guess he’s around my age, but his confidence and stature makes him seem infinitely older and wiser. He stands when I come in and holds out his hand to shake mine. Ash nods at us both and leaves the room.
‘Hi, Kelly. I’m Saul Barker, your solicitor. Officer Dewan has been filling me in on your case. Please, have a seat.’ He gestures to a chair across from him and I do as he asks. ‘There’s a cup of tea for you on the table.’
I notice the mug in front of me.
‘Do you take sugar?’
I shake my head. I have so many questions that I need to ask him, but I don’t know where to start. It’s as though my whole body has gone numb and my brain has floated off somewhere else.
Saul takes a sip of his tea and straightens out the notepad and sheaf of papers on the table in front of him. ‘So, Kelly, just to let you know, I’m the duty solicitor on call tonight; I’m a criminal defence solicitor and I’m here to ensure that your legal rights are observed.’
‘Okay. Thank you.’
He gives a curt nod. ‘You’ve been arrested for the false imprisonment of Sophie Jones.’
‘Which is ridiculous,’ I say.
‘Okay, so you’re denying it?’
‘Yes I am. Absolutely. I don’t even know how they came to that conclusion.’
Saul looks down at the sheet in front of him. ‘Sophie Jones claims that she was being held captive in your attic, tied to a chair by her wrists and ankles. She says she managed to shuffle over to the window and smash it, calling down to a passer-by for help. Whereupon a neighbour spotted her and called the police.’ Saul is reeling off this information as though it’s some kind of boring shopping list. There’s no judgement or emotion in his voice. Which is more than can be said for how I’m feeling.
My face is heating up and my throat has gone completely dry. I take a sip of the tea in front of me. It’s lukewarm and really strong but at least it lubricates my vocal cords. ‘Are you kidding me? She actually said all that?’
‘Yes. She says she’s been held against her will since Wednesday. She also inferred that you’re mentally ill. How do you know Sophie Jones?’ Saul’s grey eyes meet mine for the first time.
I realise my mouth is hanging open as I try to process what he’s telling me. I close my mouth and swallow. ‘I don’t really know her at all. She showed up at my house on Wednesday morning. She was scared out of her mind so I said she could stay for a few days.’
‘And had you met her before this?’
‘No.’
‘So, let me get this straight, you invited a stranger to stay in your house?’
I take a breath. ‘When you phrase it like that it sounds a bit crazy, I know. But she was terrified. When I found her in my garden, she was literally shaking with fear. It was obvious that she was trying to get away from someone. I felt sorry for the girl so I said she could come in for a few minutes to catch her breath and have a cold drink.’
‘Did she tell you that someone was after her?’
‘Not at that point, no. I think she said that she was in danger and needed somewhere to hide.’
‘Did you not think it would have been better to call the police?’
‘Of course. That’s the first thing I suggested. But as soon as I said that, she started heading out the door.’
‘So why didn’t you let her go?’
‘I felt sorry for her. I told her that I wouldn’t call the police if she didn’t want me to. I also suggested contacting a shelter, but she wasn’t keen on that either. She just seemed kind of shell-shocked and I thought it would be nice to give her the chance to catch her breath without putting pressure on her to contact the authorities.’
‘Did you take her up to your attic?’ Saul asks.
‘Not straight away. First, she helped me to make some cakes for the regatta.’
‘You made cakes?’ Saul’s expression is sceptical.
‘I’d just got out the ingredients when she arrived. It was all laid out on the table, so I asked her if she wanted to help me bake. I thought it might help her to open up if we were doing something normal together.’
‘And did she open up?’
‘Not really.’
‘So after you made the cakes, that’s when you took her up to the attic?’
‘Yes. I said she could stay up there until she figured out what she wanted to do.’
‘And did she want to go up there with you?’ Saul asks.
‘What do you mean, did she want to?’ I don’t like what his question is implying. ‘I didn’t force her to go up there, if that’s what you mean. I offered the room up there as a place to stay.’
‘Sophie Jones claims that she knocked on your door to ask for directions. She happened to mention that she was thirsty, so you offered her a drink of lemonade. She said she noticed that it tasted funny. The next thing she remembers is being shut in a room where she was tied to a chair.’
‘Are you joking?’ I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at this utter fabrication.
‘Unfortunately not. She also has rope burns on her wrists and ankles consistent with being tied up.’
‘But I never tied her up! I certainly never spiked her drink if that’s what she’s implying. She was completely free to wander around the house.’
‘You let a stranger wander around your house?’
‘It wasn’t like that.’ I push at my forehead with my fingertips, trying to think how best to word this. But it all seems to be coming out wrong.
‘Look, Kelly, your story isn’t making too much
sense. Can you help me to understand what happened here? I’m on your side, but right now, it isn’t adding up.’
‘I know, I know.’ There’s a lump in my throat and my brain is spinning out. I need to try to calm down and make this man understand what happened. ‘Okay, so this girl – Sophie – showed up at my door, scared and upset. I offered her a drink. She came in and we got talking. She said she had nowhere to go and no one who could help her. I wasn’t about to turf her out onto the street, so I let her stay in our loft. She seemed really grateful. It was only supposed to be for a few hours, but then I didn’t have the heart to kick her out. So I said she could stay for a day or two and we’d talk about what to do.
‘Anyway, I found that I liked her and decided to help her – is there a law against that?’
Saul shakes his head, but I can tell that he’s not impressed.
I square my shoulders, determined not to feel guilty for helping another human being. ‘Last night there was a knock on the door. It was a man who said he was her husband; he said his name was Greg Jones. He showed me a photo of his wife, Sophie, and said he was going door to door looking for her after she disappeared in the middle of the night on Tuesday. He said he’d reported her missing. So the police should have a record of that…’
Saul makes a note in his pad. ‘I’ll check.’
‘After he’d gone, Sophie was terrified. She was worried that he knew where she was. I decided that whatever happened, I was going to contact a women’s shelter on Monday to see if they could take her in. But then when I got home from the regatta this afternoon, the police arrested me. It’s all completely surreal. I mean, how long will I have to stay here? My kids are at a friends’ house, but I need to get back to them. My eldest is going through a few things at the moment. He needs me. I’m a single mum, my husband died last year.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ He clears his throat. ‘Did your children meet Sophie at all?’
‘Yes, they did, and they both really liked her. She was lovely with them. I can’t believe she’s accusing me of all these things.’
‘So she wasn’t tied to a chair when she spoke to them?’
One of Us Is Lying: A totally gripping psychological thriller with a brilliant twist Page 18
