BEFORE I LEFT a gripping psychological thriller full of killer twists

by Daisy White

  My fingers withdraw from the table, and I shiver. “Um . . . this locket isn’t mine. Sorry.”

  “Really?” The woman consults her list and frowns. “It was found in your purse. Are you sure?” Before I can stop her she picks the object up from the table, and flicks it open.

  Mary and I peer inside, half expecting a photograph, but instead it’s a plaited lock of hair. Or rather, three locks. Two dark and one fair, intertwined like a Victorian sweetheart’s trinket. The fair hair is baby-fine, but the others are dark and coarse. The locket is strung on a thin silver- coloured chain, with no clue about the owner.

  “This isn’t yours?”

  “No!” I say louder than I need to. Mary shoots me a warning look.

  “Perhaps it was found near the purse and someone picked up thinking it had fallen out,” Mary suggests, because of course she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  This is another gift from the watcher. Which means he was there last night, as we drank and swam and relaxed with our friends, feeling safe in the crowd. Maybe I spoke to him. Maybe he killed Linda.

  Chapter Ten

  We’re late to meet Johnnie, and almost everyone is there already. Our group is just one of many enjoying an evening on the beach, just like we did at Glebe House last night.

  But tonight it’s different. There are bottles of beer, but I reject them in favour of a Coca-Cola, and Victoria has brought some candles in a cardboard box.

  “I thought, you know, it might be nice to light the candles for Linda and just remember her for a bit . . .” Victoria sniffs, rubbing her nose. Her white blouse and dark skirt could pass for mourning clothes, and her hair is up in the usual high ponytail. Leon discreetly passes her a very white handkerchief. I meet James’s eyes and he smiles gently at me.

  We fall silent for a few minutes after the candles are lit. It feels as if we’re the only people on the beach, sealed in our own little bubble, watching the flickering flames burn out and the waves rising and falling.

  At last we settle into two smaller groups, sprawled on blankets with our bare feet stretched out on the pebbles. It’s obvious that everyone wants to talk about it, but that they don’t want to upset me.

  “I think that Johnnie’s right,” I say eventually, clutching my cola bottle like a weapon. “He said earlier that we should try to find Linda’s killer and I agree with him. Most of you know by now that I found her body. It was so horrible to see her like that. Nobody deserves to die, but she was one of us, and it makes us partly responsible for finding out what happened.”

  Most people murmur their agreement but Ted, who has been sitting slumped on the outskirts of the group, shakes his head. His face is in shadow and his pale hair is the only light on his body. “I can’t. I’m sorry but I just can’t. I was interviewed by the police today. Being suspected of murdering the girl I loved is one of the most horrendous experiences of my life.” He pauses. His normally chirpy voice is low and dull with pain. “I was going to ask her to marry me, you know.”

  There’s a crunch on the stones, and a familiar redhead flings herself into our group, grabbing me tightly. “What the hell is going on? I leave you all alone for one night, and this happens! Oh, Rubes, thank God you’re okay.”

  Under cover of Pearl’s dramatic entrance, Ted creeps away across the beach. Kenny makes a move to go after him but Victoria pulls him back, murmuring, “See him tomorrow, Ken. He needs to grieve on his own for a bit first.”

  The seagulls float above, and a flock of starlings line up on the pier struts. The sky is dotted with grey streaks of cloud, and the beach is still warm. I run my hand over the pebbles, then pick at a piece of seaweed, bursting the seed pods with a fingernail.

  Pearl embraces everyone, lights a cigarette, and sinks down with a bottle of beer. Her white shorts show off golden limbs, and the mass of red curls is held back from her face with an emerald flower clip.

  “How did you escape from Matron?” Victoria calls from her blanket.

  “Oh, I told her what had happened. She was even quite nice about it, and suggested I take a couple of days to get over it.” Pearl rolls her eyes. “As if it’s that easy. But she was trying, and that was the first time she’s smiled at me all year.”

  “They found my purse. The police said it was just the other side of the stone. I must have left it there when we moved over by the lake. That’s why I went up to Glebe House so early,” I say, to everyone and nobody. I need to shove aside my worries about the purse. Mary tried to ask about the locket as we walked down here (no free police taxi ride home), but I hedged the answers. I know she’s dying to grill me when we get home.

  But Pearl has other ideas, “Bring me right up to date. Who took Linda home? Who was last to see her, and all that? Was that Ted I saw by the pier?”

  “I think you missed your calling, darling. You should be leading the police force!” Johnnie tells her. He’s drawing patterns in a patch of sand with a sea-bleached piece of driftwood, but I can tell he misses nothing. “Kenny,” he asks suddenly, “What are the papers saying tomorrow about Linda?”

  Kenny and James look awkward and I can hardly blame them. This is a great story and they are right in the thick of the action. No more wasting their time on little local stories. This is a front-pager, and we all know it.

  “We’d never hurt Linda or any of our friends,” James says firmly. “But we do have to write to order, and if we don’t produce some decent stuff the boss is going to wonder why.”

  “So?” says Pearl impatiently. “What have you written for tomorrow, boys?”

  Kenny licks his lips, pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Beads of sweat are gathered along his forehead. “Someone leaked the story of Victoria’s Tarot cards, and the fact that Linda picked Death. We’re leading with a witchcraft theory, which is mostly padded out with lots of historical mumbo-jumbo — sorry Leon — and very little fact.”

  Leon looks uncomfortable, no doubt at the ‘mumbo-jumbo’ remark. Victoria scowls. “If you mention my name in your—”

  “Hey, we have a job to do. But of course we won’t mention you by name, and before you ask, it wasn’t either of us who leaked the story,” Kenny says defensively, lighting a cigarette and chucking the match onto the pebbles next to his knee. “In fact, before anyone says anything else, we have to mention Katie too. Sorry, Johnnie, but the editor has already dug out her files from last year.”

  I look up from the seaweed, and screw up my eyes in the evening light to study our little group. Johnnie’s face is set and pale. “The police messed up the investigation into Katie’s death, and because of them Terence got the easy way out. He should be rotting in prison. But it’s okay, Ken, it wasn’t your lot that botched it.”

  “You know what I think?” Pearl says, and we all stop bickering because when my cousin has an opinion, she likes to be heard. “I think whoever killed Linda is someone she knew. She wasn’t an idiot, and she was streetwise. Rubes said that Linda was going to drive her brothers home, so she must have gone out afterwards. It would have been pretty late by then because we left at what? Elevenish? A bloody lonely drive if she came back to Glebe House. Why would she do that?”

  “She wouldn’t, I suppose,” I say doubtfully. “She wouldn’t have come all the way back for any reason, even if she found out she’d left something behind. She’d have waited until morning like I did. For daylight.”

  “Right. And she would do this because, like you, and like the rest of us, she wasn’t stupid. So we agree she was killed somewhere else and the body moved to the Witch Stone? Katie was killed at the Witch Stone because she met Terence there to try and smooth things over. Different circumstances, same place. Perhaps someone is playing with us. Not just us, but this whole town.”

  I’m pondering her words and hearing echoes of her last sentence in something Mary said to me the other day, when I get that feeling again. Someone’s watching me. I glance up at the pier, more annoyed than fearful this time. Even if the watcher is a murdere
r I have my friends around me. Right at the sea end on our side, apparently enjoying a spot of evening fishing, I can see a tall dark man. He might be fishing, but he’s staring right at me.

  “Were there any other suspects in Katie’s murder?” Leon asks, flicking his cigarette into the shingle and lighting another.

  “I don’t remember really. Her ex-boyfriend was questioned, I think. And me, of course,” Johnnie says.

  “You?” Mary isn’t the only one is who is shocked.

  “I was one of the last people to be seen with her the night she was killed. She asked for a cigarette at the door of the Starlight Rooms, and I gave her one and lit it for her. I’d seen her around, probably even talked to her on previous nights out. Her friends mentioned it to the police after her death, and suddenly I became a suspect.” He pulls at his shirt collar with a shaky hand.

  Kenny asks a few questions about other people I don’t know, and Pearl adds a few more names. I tune out for a moment, glancing back over to the pier.

  “Ruby?” Mary prods me. “You still with us?” She looks in the direction of the pier-end, but apparently sees nothing more threatening than a fisherman out late.

  I gulp down the sick feeling and compose myself, smiling blandly under Pearl’s blue gaze and Victoria’s green one. “Just a bit tired, I guess.”

  Let him watch, the crazy bastard. If it makes him happy, let him leave his stupid gifts or stare at me from so far away that I can’t tell whether he’s really looking or I’m going mad. He can carry on with his little games, but if I get one shred of evidence that he killed Linda, I’ll tell the police everything. Even it means leading a trail right back to a man bleeding to death in a dark alley.

  “We’ve got to go,” James says, glancing at his watch and nudging Kenny. “If we get anything, we’ll ring you or drop in at Johnnie’s.”

  It’s still early by our standards, but as the sun sinks beneath the waves in a mirror-flash of burning gold, Mary and I also wander slowly back up the beach. Before we turn for home, I swing round and stare deliberately at the dark figure still sitting on the end of the pier. He stares back. At least I think he does. The promenade is warm and still humming with people. The odd bus rumbles past, and I lick salt from my lips.

  “We’re going for a coffee, if you want to come?” Pearl says, as we pause by the pier. “Oh, I forgot—” she glances quickly at Leon, then passes me a slip of paper.

  “What’s this?”

  “Doctor Kale’s on Church Road. I meant to give you this ages ago.”

  I must still be looking blank because she hisses impatiently, “The pill, Ruby! You know, birth control? And when Mary has had her baby I suggest she also pays him a visit. It’s okay, he won’t ask questions. He’s one of those doctors.”

  Oh. No wonder she lowered her voice. Anyway, Leon seems to be totally absorbed in conversation with Victoria. “Thanks, Pearl! Actually I think we’ll get an early night, it’s been a hell of a day.”

  “No worries, I’ll play gooseberry to these two lovebirds before I head back myself. I might use the telephone box and do some ringing round — maybe see if I can get hold of some other friends who might be able to help.” She shakes her head. “You know, I still can’t quite believe it. When I turn around I expect to see Linda following along behind, nattering to Ted. It was bad enough last year, when Katie was murdered, but it was only Johnnie that was involved properly. I hate to think this is some sort of copycat killing.”

  Pearl kisses us both and we wave at the lovers before wandering slowly across the road, ignoring the lure of hotdogs from O’Hagens.

  “So what do you think about Linda, then?” Mary asks eventually.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her, “And before you ask about the locket, I honestly don’t know about that either. It probably is totally innocent, and as you suggested, it got shoved in my purse by accident.”

  I hoped my sleep would be untroubled, but of course the ghosts crowd my dreams. George is back, but he’s joined by Linda, and they’re both running down an endless dark alley.

  * * *

  I knew what Mum wanted, and I knew I had less than two hours to get away with it. George was a creature of habit. I pulled out the biggest kitchen knife I could find, and hid it under my old coat while Mum watched. Then I made her give me the penknife.

  “God bless, Ruby, and thank you,” she called from the doorway as I set off into the night.

  When I thought about it later, it seemed a kind of funny thing to tell her daughter as she sets off to commit murder.

  The night was heavy with clouds, and the pavements were wet from rain earlier in the day. I sloshed my way to the alley that my stepdad would come down from the King’s Head and slipped into a doorway. I knew the backroads, the warehouses, and alleys round there as well as I did my own living-room.

  It was over an hour later when George staggered back after his “quick one.” I was half-frozen, and almost ready to give up. I was also panicking about meeting Mary and catching the bus. Finally, I heard his heavy, lumbering walk and his thumping nailed boots echoing in the alley. I glanced out quickly to check that yes, it was my stepdad, and whipped back, crouching low. He walked right past without seeing me. I screwed up my courage, leapt forward and plunged the knife into his back with both hands.

  Blood spurted warm and metallic into my face, all over my old coat. I spat it out while I went on clinging to the knife, twisting the blade for good measure driving it further in. It got stuck. I pulled frantically to withdraw it, and then stabbed him again. My heart pounded and my breath came in short terrified gasps.

  He seemed to take ages to fall, but when he did, he toppled like an oak tree in a winter storm, and fell with a thud I was sure must have been heard by anyone who lived over the alley. He was still groaning when I drew the blade out for the third time. I wondered whether I needed to stab him again. I swallowed my nausea and clenched my hands around the knife handle in case he moved to get up. He didn’t move. I wiped blood off my hands onto my coat while I waited for him to draw his last breath.

  Chapter Eleven

  Blood pooled across the alley, seeping into the cracked concrete, lapping at the rubbish piles like some vile scarlet sea. But the body still gave out slow gasping sighs. The rough fingers clawed at the ground, and after a while he still wasn’t dead. I took a breath, told myself to think of my siblings and especially the unborn baby, and shut my eyes, driving the knife into the back of his exposed neck. Something snapped under the force of my blow, and the stench of his last bowel movement made me gag.

  His body was finally limp as I withdrew the knife for the last time. I forced myself to lean close, looking for signs of life. I couldn’t find any, and I stepped away shaking with relief and fear. I looked away from my victim, checking the alley for danger. It was always going to be a risk doing it here, but there was nowhere else, and no time to plan. The risk had been worth it. There was nobody there.

  I felt so cold and so in control that I wondered if I was evil. If I could take a life so easily and not care, what else could I do? Perhaps all murderers felt the same, and now I had joined their ranks. It wasn’t till I scrubbed myself in the river near the furniture warehouse and dumped the coat and the knife into a convenient skip that I began to shake.

  My jaw started to rattle with the shock, and I had to stop and vomit twice on the way to the place where I was due to meet Mary. I kept feeling his blood on my arms, on my face, like a million tiny red bugs creeping across my skin. My skin looked clean, but I could still see blood.

  The bus had already rattled past me on the way to the main road as Mary crept out of hiding from behind a pile of industrial rubbish. Her thin face was wet with tears, and she was shivering. “Ruby! I thought you weren’t coming!”

  I put my arms round her. I knew, as I had that day we first met at the college, that I had finally found someone who would never let me down. Soon after Aunt Jackie telephoned with news of the death, she guessed the truth, a
nd I knew I had also found someone who loved me enough to let me get away with murder.

  * * *

  “Ruuuuby, wake up! We can’t be late today. Not when Eve and Catherine have actually started to be nice to us.” Mary is shaking my shoulder, with her fine hair tickling my face as she leans closer. “Ruby!”

  I roll over, confused and exhausted by my dreams, rubbing my sore eyes. The banging headache seems unfair after a teetotal night, but at least the weather seems set to match my mood. After a month of beach weather, today our windows look out over a dull palette of soft greys as clouds roll in from the Channel, and the heavy sea fog hangs thickly in the street outside. The glass is covered in tiny water drops, and the light is muted and cosy in our bare little room. It’s a day for staying in bed.

  “Coming. But why do you care if Catherine and Eve like us anyway? It doesn’t matter. We work hard and they work hard.” I move my hand automatically to push my hair over my shoulder. I’d forgotten for the umpteenth time that it’s short now. I do like it, especially being blonde, but I feel a bit naked without a mass of hair to hide behind.

  Mary is making up her face, brushing extra blush across her skin to hide the few spots sprinkled on her forehead. She shrugs and turns, gesticulating with her mascara brush, “Future babysitters? No, not really, I just think we need all the good people, on our side. You know, the people we can really trust. Especially now.”

  I force my legs over the side of the bed, wincing as my bare feet hit the wooden boards, and forage among the piles for clean clothes. I really need to do some more washing.

  “You mean that one of our friends could have murdered Linda? Come on, you can’t think that Kenny or Ted, or anyone, could do that?” I’m quite shocked, but more shocked by her answer.