The Deadly Truth

by Valerie Keogh

  When he’d gone, she put the card into her purse, opened the piece of paper he’d given her again and used her phone to do an internet search for Edgware Motors. It was open the following morning. There was no point in putting it off. She was convinced that Eric Thomas was either responsible for the emails or would know who was. The why after all these years was something else. There was no point in trying to second-guess the unguessable.

  At home, she dropped her briefcase on the floor in the lounge and sank onto the sofa. Despite his earlier email, she was so tired that if Hugo weren’t as close to perfect as she’d met in a while, she’d have considered putting him off until another night. But she didn’t want to mess this up. As she always did. Batting her mother’s voice away, Melanie headed to her bedroom. Tonight, there was no desire to wear fancy underwear or a slinky, tight-fitting dress. She didn’t even bother to unpin her hair before having a shower. Hugo could drop her home but if he had any hope of more it was doomed to failure, she was way too tired. With the idea that he might get the message, she dressed for comfort and convenience, pulling on a pair of stretch jeans and a pale-blue cashmere jumper and leaving her hair as it was. She remembered Quinn’s comment from earlier and wondered if Hugo too would comment that it looked as if she’d had a hard day.

  The taxi she’d ordered arrived on time and she reached the restaurant at ten to eight. Pleased she’d arrived first, she was shown to a table towards the back of the busy restaurant and took a seat facing the door to watch for Hugo’s arrival. Nervous anticipation fizzled through her. She looked down at her jumper, sorry she hadn’t worn something else or at least added some jewellery. Why hadn’t she made more of an effort? The only thing she could think to do was to pull strands of hair down from her tight chignon and curl them around her fingers before releasing. She debated going to the ladies to check it looked okay, deciding against because, after all, what could she do if it weren’t? Reminding herself that at her age she should have more sense, she ordered a bottle of sparkling water and sipped a glass as she waited, her eyes glued to the door for the first sight of Hugo.

  He arrived at a minute to eight, striding through the door, exuding confidence. She had a few seconds to observe him, surprised that his features looked harder than she remembered, his eyes colder, with none of the warmth that had so appealed to her. But when he saw her, his face lit up and he hurried over to bend and kiss her cheek. ‘You were early!’

  ‘Traffic was light,’ she said, smiling at him. In the stress of the week she’d had, she’d forgotten how gorgeous he was.

  He shook his head as he took the seat opposite. ‘I would have picked you up, you know.’

  ‘Yes, thank you, but a taxi was okay.’

  If he understood exactly why she’d been reticent about his picking her up, he made no comment. Instead, he tilted his head and looked at her with a concerned narrowing of his brown eyes. ‘If you don’t mind me saying so, you look as though you’ve had a tough week.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re not the first person to have said that today.’

  ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘It’s good to talk, you know.’

  The truth wasn’t an option so Melanie gave an explanation he could understand. ‘I had a tough meeting. It went very well but as a result I have a lot of information buzzing around my head.’ Then, because part of her brain was still in work mode, she added, ‘At least I’ll have the weekend to go through all the reports.’

  ‘You’re going to be staring at a computer screen all weekend?’ Hugo looked horrified at the thought. ‘That doesn’t sound like fun.’

  ‘Actually, I enjoy what I do, and making sure I have every point clear in my head will make things much easier as the merger progresses.’

  ‘Oh, this is the merger of the two finance institutions you were telling me about last week.’ He smiled. ‘You see, I was listening! I suppose the details take a long time to work out. It’s going to be tiring for you.’ He reached a hand across the table and grasped hers.

  Melanie felt her colour rise as his thumb gently stroked her skin.

  Hugo withdrew his hand as the waiter bustled over to take their order. Since neither had looked at the menu, he went away again and for the next few minutes the conversation was about which dishes to choose. Decisions made, conversation became more general and Melanie felt herself relaxing more as the evening went on. The food was good, the man opposite… well, he was perfect.

  ‘I’ve had a commission to design a house in Slovakia,’ Hugo said, making her heart sink. ‘I’ll be heading over for an initial consultation on Tuesday, then I’ll spend a few weeks drawing up the plans. It’s my favourite part of the process.’

  ‘So, you’ll be back and forward a few times?’

  ‘That’s the way it goes. A couple of days next week, a couple of days when the plans are ready. Once building starts, I’ll probably stay for about a week and after that I’ll visit as needed, depending on progress or whether there are any unforeseen issues.’ Pushing his plate away, he picked up his wine glass. ‘Why don’t you come with me one of the times? I’ll be busy during the day but the evenings will be free. It’s very pretty there, you’d like it.’

  ‘I’m sure I would,’ Melanie said, pleased, if slightly taken aback by the invitation. ‘Unfortunately, I’m going to be tied up with this merger.’ She was flattered by the flicker of regret she saw. They’d only known each other a week but she suddenly felt as if they’d known each other forever and her life was filling with possibilities. Slovakia, why not? ‘We don’t anticipate any problems with the merger. Both companies want it to be expedited and everything is proving straightforward. The negotiations should be complete within another week, two at the outside. Maybe I could go with you then?’

  ‘A couple of weeks?’ He smiled and reached for her hand again. ‘That would be perfect.’

  Feeling more relaxed than she had in a long time, Melanie smiled at him and laughed at his jokes. She might even have fluttered her eyelashes. It all felt so right. ‘I must give you my phone number,’ she said, opening her bag to take out a business card. She wrote her number clearly across the back of it. ‘Now you can text or ring, if you want to.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, taking the card. He took out his phone and tapped in her number. ‘Much more personal than emails.’

  ‘It’s a bit quicker,’ she said, trying to brush it off, feeling colour flash across her cheeks at the look in his eyes when he looked up from his mobile. Then she heard hers ping.

  ‘Now you have my number too,’ Hugo said. He reached across the table to clasp her hand. ‘Poor you, you look exhausted. We should go and I’ll drive you home, no argument.’

  Hugo put his arm around her shoulder, holding her close to him as they walked the short distance to his car. There wasn’t much said, the silence deliciously comfortable, the silence of old friends, of lovers. He put her address in his satnav and followed the directions to her apartment. It took a few minutes to find parking, then he turned to her. ‘I know you’re tired but I don’t want the evening to end yet. How about a coffee?’ He reached out a finger and trailed it slowly down her cheek. ‘Then, if you want me to, I’ll leave you to get your beauty sleep.’

  If you want me to. She was so tired but, like him, she didn’t want the evening to end. ‘Coffee would end the evening nicely,’ she said, and with his arm around her again, they walked to her apartment. It had been a long time since she’d been out with anyone special. Truth was, in the last couple of years it had been a series of fleeting relationships that had filled a gap and left a hole.

  ‘This is a very nice place you have,’ Hugo said as she opened the front door.

  It was warm inside, a table lamp casting a soft glow over the hallway. They stood close enough that she could smell his cologne, a rich spicy scent she didn’t recognise. Her breath caught as he bent his head and kissed her cheek, his lips moving down to the hollow of her neck. ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said, leaning back to look at h
er.

  Melanie’s tiredness washed away on a wave of desire. ‘And you are incredibly handsome,’ she whispered, reaching a hand up to lay it against his cheek.

  There was no more talk of coffee.

  11

  Melanie felt warm breath on her cheeks and the touch of his lips. ‘I have to go,’ Hugo said. ‘It’s early, don’t stir, I’ll ring you later.’

  Through half-opened eyes she could see the room was in darkness, no light creeping around the edges of the curtains. It was very early indeed. ‘I had such a good night,’ she mumbled, feeling the bed move as Hugo climbed from the other side. She’d never been so comfortable with someone so quickly. ‘I’ll get up and make you some breakfast before you go.’

  His laugh was soft. ‘That’s okay, sleepyhead. Go back to sleep, I’m going to dress and rush away, there’s no point in you getting up.’

  ‘If you’re sure,’ she said, teetering on the edge of sleep.

  ‘Positive.’

  He kissed her again, a soft press of his lips against her cheek that made her smile and slip back into a contented, satisfied sleep.

  It was the sound of the front door that woke her. In the winter, the wooden door became swollen and difficult to close, and it was impossible to do it quietly. She should have warned Hugo. With a lazy stretch, her mind drifted back to the previous night. He’d been an attentive lover; it was a shame he’d had to rush away. It would have been pleasant to have stayed all morning getting to know one another better, making love again… and again.

  When she opened her eyes, confused to see it was now almost bright, she reached for her mobile and flopped back against the pillow with it in her hand. Eight o’clock. Much later than she’d thought.

  It was tempting to forget about going to Edgware, unsure after all if she should go to see Eric Thomas. She hadn’t felt so good, so at ease… so satisfied… for a long time, it seemed such a shame to spoil it. But even the thought of Eric was enough to dampen her mood. The years hadn’t dimmed the guilt she felt over what she’d done; she doubted if it had dimmed the anger that had emanated from Eric in waves when she’d seen him last almost twenty-five years before. With a moan, she rolled over and buried her head in the pillow. No, even if Hugo had wanted to linger, she’d have had to put him off, this mystery needed to be sorted. She needed to confront whoever was sending those emails. If it was Eric, she could stop him, somehow. She had to; she wanted to get on with her life, especially since she now had someone special to share it with.

  Climbing from the bed, she slipped on a robe and went to open the curtains. It was a dull, cloudy day, the remnants of frost lingering on the roof tiles opposite telling her she needed to dress warmly. She turned back to look at the bed with a sigh but her satisfied smile dimmed when her eyes landed on something on the floor. In disbelief, she stepped closer. A used condom. He’d left it there. Disgust swept over her and she hurried into the en suite to pull toilet paper off the roll. She gathered the offending item and threw it into the waste basket. Later, she’d empty it into the bin outside.

  Was she wrong to feel slightly demeaned by his carelessness or was she making too big a deal of it? It was an action that seemed so at odds with the sophisticated, charming man he was. She tried to brush it off as she showered and dressed in jeans and jumper. A slice of toast and a coffee and she was ready to deal with whatever else the day had to throw at her. The condom issue… she’d be brave and discuss that with Hugo the next time. Maybe a waste basket on his side of the bed was the answer. The prosaic thought almost made her smile and she tried to regain the euphoria she’d felt earlier.

  But she didn’t have a chance; all she could think of now was her meeting with Eric.

  She pulled on a warm navy jacket, shoved her purse in one of its big pockets and left the apartment. The streets were Saturday morning quiet, the temperature chilly enough to keep her hands buried in her pockets as she walked briskly to Parsons Green station. She’s already checked the best route and went to the correct platform to catch the District line to Embankment Station where she changed to the Northern Line. There were no delays and she arrived in Edgware a little over an hour later.

  It was an area she’d never been to before but she’d inputted the address into her phone and looking at the directions as she exited the station, she was pleased to see it wasn’t far. Ten minutes later, she was standing outside the huge glass-fronted showroom. There were several people milling around inside but none bore any resemblance to the gangly young man she remembered or the more up-to-date photo of Eric she’d seen on Cherry’s Facebook page. There was no point in standing there, peering through the window, hoping for inspiration, so without further ado she stepped up to the front door. It was automatic and swished open in front of her, inviting her to come inside and look at the glossy cars displayed on shiny tiled floors. Her footsteps echoed strangely as if announcing her arrival but nobody came to greet her.

  She walked slowly, fingers lingering on the paintwork of the cars as she passed, her eyes moving from person to person, seeking out the one she wanted to see. But there was no sign of him. Finally, a smiling woman, hair streaked in bright pink, appeared at her side. ‘Can I help you?’

  Melanie must have given a good impression of someone who was interested in buying, there was a hopeful look in the woman’s eyes that faded as soon as Melanie spoke. ‘Actually, I was looking for Eric Thomas. He’s an old friend,’ she added hastily as she saw the woman’s eyebrows rise.

  ‘He’s on a tea break.’ A hand with pink manicured nails pointed towards a seating area. ‘If you want to wait, he’ll be out in a few minutes.’ The woman’s eyes softened as she assessed Melanie and in a gentler tone added, ‘I can go and get him if you like?’

  ‘No, that’s fine, I’ll wait.’ There were newspapers to while away the time, Melanie picked one up and was glancing through it when she saw Eric appear through a doorway on the far side of the showroom.

  She wasn’t expecting to see the young man of her childhood, but neither was she expecting the rather worn greying man with a protruding belly who ambled across the floor. The Facebook photograph, she guessed, was a few years out of date. He wasn’t looking her way so she guessed the pink-haired woman hadn’t told him about her. She was glad, she was able to observe him unnoticed and adjust her expectation to fit the reality.

  Eric walked to a desk, sat down and immediately tapped keys on a keyboard as if picking up exactly where he’d left off before going on his break.

  Melanie watched him for several seconds before getting to her feet. It was time to do what she’d gone there for. She crossed the showroom, but he didn’t look up as she approached despite the loud slap of her leather soles on the tiled floor. It wasn’t until she’d taken the seat on the other side of the desk that he looked up curiously, his fingers freezing as he stared at her.

  ‘Hello, Eric,’ she said, her voice trembling slightly. ‘Remember me?’

  The intense stare she remembered had gone, now his eyes were hooded, his mouth a thin slash in a pale face. His expression didn’t seem to change as he looked at her. Surely, he remembered her. She’d not changed that much. Even if he didn’t, she felt pinned to her seat by their shared history. Clearing her throat, she was about to tell him who she was when he held a hand up to stop her.

  ‘I’m finished in an hour,’ he said, without looking at her. ‘There’s a pub across the road, The Londoner, meet me there.’ His fingers tapped again, quicker and quicker, then they stopped. ‘Go,’ he said, his lips barely moving.

  Scrambling to her feet, she hurried across the showroom, almost losing her footing on the slippery floor, reaching the door and taking a deep breath as it swished open. Outside, she stood a moment in the chill breeze that edged around the building and tried not to cry. She should go home. This had been a crazy idea. Crazy.

  She looked across the busy road towards the pub he’d mentioned. It was a grim-looking establishment, its original creamy brick streaked black fr
om exhaust fumes, tiny windows like mean eyes looking across at her.

  A crazy idea – but the only one she had.

  Darting between the traffic, she crossed the road and pushed open the door of The Londoner. Inside, it was a pleasant surprise. White walls and clever lighting made it bright; chairs looked comfortable and tables were clean. A sign over the bar informed customers that breakfast was served all day and the pub was busy, crowded with people eating and filled with the loud noise of people chattering and laughing. She saw one small empty table at the back wall and negotiated her way around chairs and extended legs to get to it. There wasn’t a vacant chair to be seen. She settled for a small stool; it was too small, too low but at least she could sit.

  Propping her elbows on the table, she rested her chin on her joined hands and tried to let the surrounding din fill her head and drive out everything else. It was partially successful, the clashing orchestra of conversations forming a strange lullaby. As the lunchtime crowd thinned, tables became vacant and she moved from the stool to a chair at a table beside a small window. It overlooked the front of the pub and straight across the road to the car showroom. The hour was almost up; she fixed her eyes on the door until she saw Eric come out.

  He’d ambled across the showroom floor earlier, but now he strode with a strange rolling gait, his face set and grim, hands tightened into fists at his side. He hadn’t aged well. Only a year or so separated them but she would have guessed ten.

  She was trembling by the time he came through the door and glared around the now half-empty pub. When his eyes lit on her, he stopped in his tracks and stared, then with a shake of his head he headed to the bar where he ordered a pint, downing half before turning and making his way to the table. He sat in the chair opposite without looking at her, put his drink on the table, leaned back and crossed his arms.