by Rona Halsall
Love You Gone
A gripping psychological crime novel with an incredible twist
Rona Halsall
Also by Rona Halsall
Love You Gone
Keep You Safe
Contents
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Part II
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Part III
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Part IV
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Keep You Safe
Hear More from Rona
Also by Rona Halsall
A Letter from Rona
Acknowledgements
For the men in my life:
David, Big John, Little John, Oscar and Robin
Part One
Now
One
Friday
‘When will you ever learn?’ Luke said to the boy sitting beside him, his frustration apparent in every syllable. ‘Didn’t that black eye teach you anything?’
Callum stared at him, his bottom lip quivering slightly, the blue and yellow haze around his right eye all that was left of his injury. Defiance shone in his eyes, but he wouldn’t speak, just sat there, a smouldering presence in the passenger seat. He was only nine, but had a teenager’s attitude and reminded Luke of himself at that age, with his mess of sandy curls, earnest blue eyes and a tendency to bottle everything up. Except Luke’s eyes hadn’t been masked by fear, and his body hadn’t scrunched in on itself like Callum’s did, his shoulders pulled up to his ears. Luke’s fingernails hadn’t been bitten so much that the skin around them bled.
Rain drummed on the windscreen, the monotonous sound of the wipers getting on Luke’s nerves. He turned the heater up a notch, aware that Callum was shivering.
‘We are going and that is it.’ Luke tried to make his voice calmer than he felt. ‘No arguments. Okay?’
Luke sighed. It was all his fault, wasn’t it? His fault that his child had started wetting the bed, that he cried himself to sleep, that he hardly spoke to him anymore, wouldn’t even look at him most of the time. So much anger in that little heart. So much pain.
It has to stop. Luke knew that, and this trip seemed like the only option open to him now. But could he bring himself to do it? Could he really end this life that he’d made for them all?
What a responsibility children are, he thought. Their little lives in our hands. And he’d managed to mess up his children’s lives good and proper.
Luke’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. This was so much harder than he’d imagined. He stared ahead at the four lanes of cars, stuck in a stationary queue on the Thelwall Viaduct, just outside Manchester; the M6 at its finest. He checked his watch, an excuse to not look at his son, who he knew was still glowering. Luke could feel the waves of anger flowing from Callum, reverberating through the air, and being sucked into Luke’s body with every breath he took.
He looked in his rear-view mirror, the car behind almost resting on his bumper. He caught a glimpse of his dark-haired daughter, head bent over her tablet; another reminder that this decision was not just about him. This was about his children. About taking the pain and fear and worries away. He nodded to himself. He could do that for them, couldn’t he? However hard this was going to be, it was an act of mercy that had to be done. There really was no choice now. He inched forwards as the queue started to move.
Luke flicked a glance at Callum. ‘Sorry, fella, I didn’t mean to get cross.’ He ruffled his son’s hair. ‘I know this is scary, but let’s just stick with it for a little while longer, okay? You’ve got to trust me.’
Callum pressed his lips together, a frown making a groove between his eyebrows, his expression so like his mother’s that it made Luke’s breath hitch in his throat. Callum nodded before turning his face away, such a familiar expression of defeat that it squeezed Luke’s heart. The beep of a horn made him look up. The cars in front had moved on and he accelerated, shifted the car into second gear, his jaw clamped shut. They were on their way again. On their way to peace.
Two
Sunday
Mel squinted against the explosion of light in her rear-view mirror.
‘Dip your flipping lights, would you?’ she muttered as she cautiously negotiated her way round a tight bend. The car behind was large and chunky, its headlights as bright as searchlights in the black of the February night, and was tailing her so closely she hardly dared brake for fear that the driver would end up on the back seat. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. This damned thing had been behind her for almost a quarter of an hour and she could feel the tension dragging at her shoulders.
She knew she was driving slowly, but the road was narrow and twisty – and everything would have been so much easier if she’d arrived here in the daylight as she’d originally intended, but… Well, the delay was worth it, she thought, with a wry smile. Finally, she had the promise of a new contract with a company she’d recently started doing a bit of work with, and that wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t stayed and put in the extra effort. Occasionally, when you were a working mum, business had to come before family. She nodded to herself. That was the unfortunate truth of it.
Branches clawed at the passenger door as she navigated yet another tight bend, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw was starting to ache. It was a mystery why they were coming here for a holiday, given that they lived on the edge of Snowdonia in North Wales. You’d think that was wilderness enough to explore, but apparently not. Apparently, this area had other things to offer. That’s what Luke had said when he’d told her where they would be spending the half-term holidays.
‘Why couldn’t he just have booked Center Parcs like any normal person?’ she asked the empty passenger seat, like she had an invisible friend sitting there. She swung the wheel round a sudden corner, almost running up the grass bank, and her heart flipped for a second, sensing she was going to crash. It was no good, she was going to have to stop and let this idiot get past. Thankfully, the road widened a little and she pulled into a gateway, allowing the car to get round her and speed on its way. She sat for a moment after it was gone, trying to return herself to the sense of calm she’d felt earlier. When she’d thought she had everything nicely organised in her mind.
‘Should have booked it myself,’ she huffed. ‘Daft letting a man make holiday arr
angements.’ But she knew in her heart that she’d been pleased when he’d surprised her with it, even though it had clashed with a work event, because it meant some quality time together as a family. Something they’d been missing in recent months. What did it matter where he’d booked? It’s the thought that counts, she told herself, smiling at the mental image of her big, handsome husband with his wavy blond hair and rugged features; a nose that had been broken playing rugby and was now a little crooked, a scar on his right cheek from a rock-climbing accident, his square chin with a little dink on one side from a childhood mishap. And those crystal blue eyes that still made her stop when he gazed at her.
A whole uninterrupted week on holiday. How long since that had happened? She felt her annoyance evaporate, to be replaced by a small buzz of excitement. The children were going to love it, being at an age where they could handle an adventure, and that’s exactly what this holiday was going to be.
‘It’ll be great,’ Luke had said. ‘Honestly, wait until you see the website. All these activities right on the doorstep.’
She’d leant over Luke’s shoulder as he scrolled through the pictures, his enthusiasm infectious.
‘See. We can hire mountain bikes and go for rides in the forest. Have picnics. You know the kids love a picnic. Loads of walks. Look, there’s a sculpture trail. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? We could even go up one of the fells if the weather’s good. And look at this…’ he’d scrolled down, ‘A high ropes course!’ He’d looked up at her, his face alight, and her heart had melted. He was as excited as the children would be. Not that she would be going near the thing, but she’d happily take pictures and enjoy seeing them having a good time.
She’d wrapped her arms around him and snuggled her face into his neck.
‘What a lovely surprise,’ she’d said. ‘That’ll be perfect.’
And it would be, she thought now, if only she could find the place.
She clicked on the inside light and checked the directions, looked at the map he’d printed for her, not wanting to rely on her satnav, because he’d warned her it might not work too well on these little lanes. She seemed to have been on this road for an awfully long time and she wondered if she’d gone wrong again. Surely I should be there by now? She traced the road with her finger and realised with a sigh of relief that she was only a couple of miles away.
‘Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Hallelu-jah!’ She sang the words, then jazzed it up with a gospel rhythm, adding a few Praise the Lords for good measure. Singing always cheered her up, but there was no doubt that she felt a little confused. New possibilities had presented themselves over the weekend, another option that she wasn’t sure what to do with.
Mum and wife. That was all she’d ever wanted to be and now her life was a twisted knot of conflicting priorities. She squared her shoulders, pushed any thoughts of work out of her mind and focused instead on getting to her family. That’s what was important.
The village was a mere blip on the map, just a collection of cottages on the edge of Grizedale Forest in the Lake District, and as she got nearer she slowed down, hunched forwards over the steering wheel, checking for road signs. My god, these roads are awful. Spooky as well, surrounded by trees for miles and miles. Anyone could be hidden in these woods. Or anything. She gave an involuntary shiver.
Despite Luke’s enthusiasm, she still felt that a week of getting cold and wet would not do their tempers much good, cooped up in a little cottage with unpredictable February weather hurtling around them. She shivered at the thought, unsure why he hadn’t booked them a holiday in a warmer destination. Clearly her hints about Tenerife being a nice place for a family break had been too subtle, and she decided that she’d have to try and be a little bit clearer next time.
No heated swimming pool. No childminders. No lovely coffee shops and restaurants. Nope. All those amenities are miles and miles away. Down these tortuous roads. And don’t get me started on the fact it’s self-catering!
But then, the holiday wasn’t about her, it was, as Luke had said, all about the kids. She smiled to herself and put a hand on her stomach. Wondered if, by some miracle, it had worked this time, if one of her aging eggs had actually succumbed and was, at this very moment, growing inside her into a new being. Positive thoughts, positive thoughts, she told herself, as she willed a baby into existence.
A sign loomed out of the gloom in front of her. Satterthwaite.
‘Yes! At last.’ She breathed a sigh of relief that seemed to start at her toes and work its way up through her body, leaving her sagging in her seat as she peered over the steering wheel. On the left, the instructions had said. And there it was, a wooden sign on a gatepost, the lights of the house visible behind a tall privet hedge. And Luke’s mud-splattered 4x4 parked in the drive, next to the house.
Mel swung off the road, parked up and wriggled her feet, uncomfortable in her smart shoes, which really weren’t the best design for driving. Six o’clock, that’s when she’d told Luke she’d be here in her last text, promising to set off after the morning workshop, which she’d told him she was running. As a management consultant, she usually stayed to do a bit of networking after every event she organised, cementing her place as a professional they could rely on. However, this weekend had not really gone according to plan and now she was two hours late.
Mel was Mrs Punctual, always on time, early rather than late. Always. Her heart gave a little jerk. Manchester to the Lakes. How could it have taken her the best part of eight hours? She took a deep breath. Obviously, she’d had to stop for something to eat, and that had taken longer than planned. Then she’d decided to avoid the motorway because she hated the M62 and there had been an accident on the M6. Nobody could predict the traffic, could they? Plus, the last bit of the journey had resembled a rally track more than a road. She couldn’t be blamed for being careful. Better that she got here late than ending up in a crash somewhere because she was rushing to make up time.
Anyway.
She took a deep breath and stopped her mental gabbling, picked up her handbag, rested it on her lap and rummaged inside until she found her make-up bag, then tilted the rear-view mirror so she could see her reflection. She tutted and tried to tidy her hair, which was misbehaving on one side, as if she’d slept on it when it was wet. Her mouth twitched. She found her comb and persuaded her hair back into some sort of shape. Normally it was a sleek shoulder-length bob, a shiny black curtain that swung round her face; a style which looked simple, but had cost a fortune to create. Still, it was worth it, giving her the right professional image, and she looked a lot younger than her forty years. Everyone said so. Wide-set brown eyes sparkled back at her as she tidied up the smudged mascara with a face wipe, swiped a new covering of powder on her cheeks, nose and brow, then touched up her lipstick.
She zipped up her make-up bag, gathered her reading glasses and phone, put everything into her handbag and sat for a moment, taking a few calming breaths. You’re here now. She wondered if they’d eaten or whether she’d have to start cooking. She hoped he’d done the shopping, and got some easy dinner in; the thought of slipping straight into catering mode after a long and emotionally exhausting day was not something she wanted to contemplate.
‘Don’t worry about the cooking,’ he’d told her, when he’d seen her face fall at the idea of a holiday cottage instead of a hotel or the resort that she’d favoured. ‘We’ll all share the jobs. Make sure it’s a holiday for everyone.’
Hmm.
She made her mind change tack, her eyes scanning the cottage, which looked like it was a decent size and much smarter than it had appeared in the pictures. This looked like it had potential for a bit of comfort. And she really, really hoped he’d bought wine. She closed her eyes for a moment, aware of her exhaustion now that the adrenaline of the weekend was starting to fade.
Running the workshops always got her hyped up. It was like being on stage, putting on a performance, but she had to be alert, watch all the interactions between attendee
s and pick up on the different personalities. She allowed herself a glow of pride; the success of the event was all down to her and the clients had been delighted with the way everything had gone.
‘We’ll definitely want you to do some more work with us. And I’ll recommend you to Head Office,’ the Regional Manager had said. It was a big company, with branches all over the UK, and it could turn out to be a real money-spinner, not to mention the fact that it would look good on her company website and social media profiles.
Yes, there was no doubt that she was good at her job, but it did keep her away from her family at times, and she’d started to wonder if she needed to balance things better. That’s why this week was so important; a bit of time for bonding and not thinking about work at all.
‘Get out of the car,’ she told herself, her energy levels on empty, making such a simple action seem like a Herculean effort. The lights glowed from the windows and she imagined Tessa and Callum, all excited about being in a new place, planning what they were going to do during the week, Luke getting the house organised. She smiled to herself, and climbed out. It would be fine. Fun. They were going to have a great time, a holiday to remember.
