The Honeymoon: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller

by Rona Halsall

  She never thought of them as individuals anymore because they seemed to act in unison where she was concerned. Her sister the leader and her brother right behind her, backing her up. Lucy and Mark. That’s how it had been for years, ever since their father had died. As the firstborn, there had been a time when Lucy was the only child, when all the attention had been focused on her. Their father had been in the habit of taking Lucy for trips out, to give their mother a chance to have a rest and the habit continued when the other two children had come along. As soon as Lucy was old enough to ride a bike, their father had taken her out on cycling trips almost every weekend. It was their thing, something that happened whatever the weather, experiences that only they shared. When their father died, it had struck Lucy the hardest and she had latched onto Mark, who adored his oldest sister and would do whatever she said.

  Overnight, the family dynamics changed, and Chloe remembered life at home as being fraught, all the way through her teenage years, until Lucy left home to go to university. There was a familiar theme to the dramas, she remembered.

  ‘You don’t care about me!’ Lucy would yell at their mother when she’d tell her that she couldn’t have whatever it was she’d asked for. ‘You only care about Chloe.’

  Their mother would sigh, exhausted by the strain of being a single parent and the demands of her fractious daughter. ‘You know that’s not true. I care about you all equally.’

  ‘But you spend all your time with her. You don’t take me to the allotment, do you?’

  ‘You don’t like gardening, Lucy,’ their mother would answer, evenly.

  ‘I might do if you asked me.’

  ‘I have asked you and you’ve never wanted to come.’

  ‘You don’t ask me either,’ Mark would pipe up.

  ‘Because you get bored and want to come home five minutes after we’ve got there.’

  ‘You treat me as an unpaid babysitter, while you two go off for hours.’ Lucy would round on Chloe then, to make sure she knew she was in the wrong as well.

  ‘An hour at the most,’ their mum would point out, and it was true. ‘It’s never more than an hour.’

  ‘I hate you!’ Lucy would yell. ‘I hate both of you.’ And she would run off crying, with Mark on her heels.

  Chloe would always go and give her mum a hug after these explosions of temper, knowing how much her mum struggled to do everything on her own. Chloe did whatever she could to help, wanting nothing more than to ease her mother’s pain, to make her life a bit easier. Why couldn’t Lucy see that? But it wasn’t in her nature. Lucy’s life was all about Lucy and nothing was ever going to change that.

  Chloe knew that her mother didn’t have favourites, didn’t love her more than the other two, but there was no getting away from the fact that they were similar people, liked doing the same things and always had so much to talk about. Lucy hated that and always tried to wedge herself between them, trying to cause trouble. Chloe rationalised her behaviour as being part of her grief; that’s how her mother had explained it to her. Nothing personal, she was just lashing out.

  After their mother’s death, Lucy’s hatred had notched up to another level. Chloe had missed the funeral, arriving home the following week, only finding out what had happened when she’d rung home the day before she left Thailand. Lucy and Mark were staying at their mother’s house, which was still Chloe’s home, as they started to sort out her affairs.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ Lucy had said when Chloe had walked into the kitchen after depositing her bags in the hallway. ‘How dare you even show your face?’

  Chloe had stepped back as Lucy advanced towards her.

  ‘I live here, Lucy. It’s my home.’

  Lucy had sneered. ‘It’s not your home anymore, so you can pick up your trash and get out.’

  Chloe had stood her ground then, told herself not to be intimidated. ‘It’s always been my home. You’re the ones that moved out. You and Mark.’

  ‘But you’re responsible for her death. You do know that, don’t you? That’s what everyone thinks. You bloody killed her. You knew she was ill, and you still went off, without telling any of us she was really poorly.’ Lucy’s face had been inches away from Chloe’s. She could smell the garlic on her breath, could see the open pores on her nose. ‘Would it have been so hard to let us know, eh? Would it? She’d still be alive. Has that occurred to you? If you’d bothered to make a couple of phone calls, we’d still have a mother.’

  Chloe had shaken her head, tears welling up, filling her throat. She had no answer, no words to explain, nothing that would make any difference.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she’d murmured.

  Lucy had slapped her face. Chloe’s head had whipped to the side and she’d staggered backwards, so shocked that she couldn’t speak.

  Lucy had had a manic look in her eye and Chloe knew she was winding herself up into one of her furious tantrums. ‘Sorry! You’re sorry? Oh, well, that’s all right then, isn’t it? That all fine and dandy.’

  Another slap, even harder this time, had made Chloe dash into the hallway, pick up her bags and leave. She’d stayed with a friend until Lucy had gone back home a couple of days later, and she’d let herself back into the house, feeling like an intruder in her own home.

  The intimidation had continued until Chloe agreed that she didn’t deserve her share of the inheritance, and as an executor of her mother’s will, she’d signed it over to Lucy and Mark. Compensation for their loss, Lucy had said. It was only right. If Chloe had cared more, their mother wouldn’t be dead.

  Now, in her gran’s lounge, the memories made her shiver. Is Lucy making trouble again? Looking to take her share of Gran’s inheritance? It would be a considerable amount. It’s a possibility, she decided, especially after her gran’s comments about her will.

  ‘Any luck?’ Janelle popped her head round the door. ‘We’re having a cuppa and cookies if you fancy some?’

  Chloe gazed at her and sighed. ‘All my online accounts have gone. And Dan’s. I can’t contact him.’ Her voice was hardly more than a whisper, but the desperation was clear.

  Janelle came into the room and perched on the edge of the armchair, frowning. ‘Well, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’

  Chloe nodded, too exhausted to even speak.

  ‘Tell you what. Come and have something to eat, then we can have a chat about it, see if we can work out what the heck is going on. How about that?’

  Chloe realised she hadn’t had any lunch, remembered that she had a baby to think about now, and after a moment she slowly rose to her feet. Even if she didn’t feel like eating, she had to force something down for the sake of this new life growing inside her. A life that Dan knew nothing about.

  She followed Janelle into the kitchen where the smell of freshly baked cookies filled the air. Her stomach rumbled while Janelle poured the tea, and she began to explain what had happened.

  ‘Oh, it’s turned into a terrible mess, hasn’t it?’ her gran said, as if it was Chloe’s fault. There was no answer to that one, but then her gran didn’t expect it and carried on talking. ‘Look, I’ve got to say this, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but I can’t have you moving in here, so I don’t want you to think that’s an option. It just brings everything back – all that sadness – and it confuses me sometimes when I think you are your mum. It’s not good for my blood pressure. Or my mental health.’

  Janelle stayed quiet, but Chloe could see this was something they’d spoken about, could tell by the little glance exchanged by the two women.

  Chloe ate in silence while she considered her options before realising that she didn’t have any. With no money, no accommodation and no way of contacting people, she was completely stuck.

  ‘I need to talk to him, Gran. Get this sorted out.’

  ‘Well, there’s only one way to do that, isn’t there? You’ll have to go back to Menorca.’

  Chloe looked down at her plate, picking up crumbs on her finger, wounded by her
gran’s words. Nobody cared about her. Not her gran, or Lucy or Mark. She’d alienated her workmates by making the department short-staffed and couldn’t get in touch with anyone else. She was alone. Completely alone.

  ‘Look, I’ll pay for you to go,’ her gran said, a steely gleam in her eyes. ‘You can stay here tonight and go back tomorrow morning. Get it all sorted.’ She sighed and her voice softened. ‘Marriage is difficult in the beginning and you’ve only been wed a week. This is probably all some sort of silly misunderstanding. But you won’t know unless you actually go and talk to him.’

  So there it was. Her gran was throwing her out. Going back to Dan and getting some answers was her only option.

  Twenty-Nine

  I almost missed her again!

  My goodness, she darts around like one of those little fishes, turning this way and that. Thank goodness I saw her getting into the airport taxi.

  Back to Menorca we go, then.

  I can feel the pressure building, like a boil about to burst.

  Time to speed things up now, I think.

  Time to reach the finale.

  Time for Chloe to hear a few home truths.

  Thirty

  As soon as the plane took off, Chloe finally slept, her thoughts having kept her tossing and turning for most of the night. Her gran had paid for the ticket, a return coming back in a couple of days, and given her a small amount of cash to tide her over. She seemed enthusiastic to see her go, if Chloe was being honest, not at all concerned that Chloe might be heading into danger of some sort, and she’d left with a feeling that she wasn’t welcome anymore. Now she was devoid of any family ties, she really needed to sort out the situation with Dan, and decide how she wanted the future to be for her and their baby.

  A tap on her shoulder woke her, the smiling face of an air hostess beaming down at her. ‘I need you to put your table up, please. We’re just coming in to land.’

  Chloe did as she was asked, rubbed her eyes, and glanced out of the window. There was nothing to see except a billowing cushion of clouds below them, blue sky above and the plane seeming to hang in the space between. Next to her, an elderly couple were doing a crossword puzzle and taking no notice of her whatsoever. She closed her eyes, wishing she could go back to sleep and wake up to find it had all been a crazy dream. That she and Dan were just starting their honeymoon, off to the Maldives, to that beautiful hotel she’d been looking forward to, very much in love.

  I do still love him, though, don’t I?

  Her heart clenched at the thought, the fact that she was even asking herself that question. There was no doubt that she’d been missing him. No doubt that he filled her thoughts, that she felt empty without him. But there was something else now. Questions, uncertainties and, yes, an element of fear. If he was trying to force her to live in Menorca by wiping out her existence in the UK, then that was seriously twisted behaviour. And he’d definitely misjudged her. She’d been bullied enough by her sister without Dan starting. No, she told herself, hands clenching in her lap. I won’t put up with it. Once she knew the truth, she could work out what she was going to do about it, but in the meantime, she needed to keep an open mind.

  It might not be Dan.

  Now that was an even scarier thought, one she hadn’t allowed herself to consider too much. Dan she could deal with, she thought, because he loved her. Of that she was certain. If he was doing this, it was a mistake, assumptions made that shouldn’t have been, him trying to be the masterful husband, getting everything organised so she didn’t have to worry about anything.

  Who else would want to rip my life away from me?

  She watched as the clouds filled the horizon, the plane starting its descent. It could only be someone who was jealous. Or someone who didn’t want her to be happy. The faces of her brother and sister sprang into her mind again. Could it be them? Were they trying to make sure that she was out of the way, not contactable, so she couldn’t collect her share of her gran’s estate. Gran’s house is worth a lot of money. They would hate to share that windfall. Hate it.

  She frowned. It was a possibility she should consider. Given the failing health of her gran, were they circling, like vultures, eyeing up the millions that her gran’s estate would provide when she died?

  The plane thumped onto the runway, sending a shudder through the cabin, and she braced herself against the seat in front until the speed decreased and the plane started to taxi to its resting place next to the terminal. Not long till I see Dan. She took a deep breath, her pulse starting to speed up. The thought both thrilled and scared her. How on earth is he going to react to me running off like that?

  For the first time, she tried to put herself in Dan’s shoes. He’d told her they couldn’t go home because it wasn’t safe, for some mysterious reason. Was that real, or imaginary? Something he’d created to make her do what he wanted? But suppose she was in danger. He’d be frantic by now, wouldn’t he? No word from her for over twenty-four hours. But he could have rung me, she reminded herself. She chewed at her lip as she waited to get off the plane. Why didn’t he ring Gran again?

  Her frown deepened, her mind ticking through everything that had happened all over again as the queue to get off the plane finally started to shuffle forwards and she walked through the terminal to the taxi rank.

  As she started the journey back to the villa, the possibilities swirled like a grey mist, blocking any clarity of thought. She was just going to have to be brave, apologise to Dan for freaking out, tell him exactly what had happened and ask him if he knew what the hell was going on. There was absolutely no point trying to second-guess what lay ahead of her.

  It was raining, a damp, drizzly day that blurred the landscape and filled the roads with enormous puddles. Quite different to the sunny paradise she’d left a couple of days before, but completely in keeping with her mood. Her stomach griped and churned as they drew close to the village, a headache stretching across her forehead. She needed food – or rather, it seemed like the baby did – and she decided to stop for a quick breakfast in one of the harbourside cafés before walking up to the house. The fresh air would help her think and a good breakfast would give her energy and the resolve to stand her ground if it came to an argument.

  * * *

  A little while later, she made herself leave the comfort of the café and start the final part of her journey. The rain pattered on the hood of her raincoat, seeping through her trainers until her feet squelched. She shivered, and told herself she should have brought more layers, until she reminded herself that she couldn’t do that because she had no clothes in Brighton. All that she owned was either here or stored in a mysterious location somewhere.

  Her jaw hardened, her shoulders bunching under her jacket as anger flared in her chest. She stomped through the forest without a thought for her surroundings, no fear of what might be lurking in the trees, her mind too busy sorting out what she was going to say.

  Given the gloominess of the day, she was surprised that there were no lights on when she reached the house. She was even more surprised when she found the door was locked. She checked her watch, finding that it was almost 11 a.m., so Dan would be up and about by now. In fact, he was probably out, getting shopping. Or looking for me. She cringed. What if he rang Gran and went to the airport to meet me and I missed him? Why hadn’t he rung again while I was in Brighton? Or maybe he did, and Gran didn’t tell me? Now that was a thought she needed to consider. Gran was very keen to pack me off to Menorca again. Perhaps that was because she’d spoken to Dan.

  She sighed and went round the back of the house where she could sit out of the rain. Ten minutes later, she heard the sound of a car engine, coming closer. Her heart jumped in her chest. He’s back.

  She decided to wait for the car to leave before she made her presence known, not wanting any sort of scene in front of a stranger. The door slammed shut and she heard the engine start to fade. She crept round to the front of the house, tried the door and walked in, stopping when sh
e saw Dan in front of her, taking off his jacket.

  ‘Dan.’

  He whirled round, eyes wide when he saw her. She found herself unable to move. He stepped towards her, and from the look sparking in his eyes, she wasn’t sure whether to stay or run.

  ‘What the hell?’ His eyes moved up and down her body as if he was doing an inventory. ‘Christ!’

  There was anger in his voice and she edged away until her back hit the wall and she could go no further. Her chest felt tight, her heart pounding.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Dan,’ she gabbled. ‘I’m sorry I went home. But I couldn’t think about leaving Gran.’ She looked down at the floor and thought about that for a moment. ‘Actually, you were right.’ She swallowed, understanding what an idiot she’d been, thinking she was needed when the opposite had been true. ‘She doesn’t want me to look after her. The carer, Janelle, seems very capable and they seem to have struck up a real friendship.’ Heat spread up her neck. ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry.’

  He moved to her and folded her into his arms, pulling her to his chest. She breathed in the smell of him, felt the warmth of his body against hers, but she couldn’t relax.

  ‘I was so worried.’ He pushed away, his hands on her shoulders, eyes level with hers as he pinned her to the wall. ‘You’ve no idea what you put me through. No idea. Knowing you were out there on your own, without me to protect you.’ His voice was full of anguish and Chloe felt like a child again, when she’d gone out to play with a friend and not told her mum, coming home well after dark. It had only happened once because she got such a telling-off.

  She looked away, and forced herself to stand her ground, spell out why she’d gone. The situation was of his making and there was no need for her to take all the responsibility. ‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry, but you were being so paranoid and then saying I couldn’t go home and not listening when I told you how worried I was about Gran. To my mind, it was major control-freak behaviour.’