Dying To See You: a dark and deadly psychological thriller

by Kerena Swan

  ‘Hello, Mr Brentwood. How are you?’ I ask.

  ‘Do I know you?’ he peers up into my face.

  ‘I met you briefly outside Ivy’s house. I was stroking your cat.’

  His face darkens at the mention of Ivy. His smile slips, and he grabs my arm. ‘Keep away from there. It’s not safe.’ His fingers are quite painful, in fact. I might even have a bruise tomorrow. Peter notices me wince and intervenes.

  ‘It’s all right, Stan, don’t get upset. I’m sure Sophie knows how to take care of herself.’

  Mr Brentwood turns back to his companion as Peter leads me away. ‘Stan fell out with Ivy a few months ago. Apparently, he made some allegations against her grandson. Unfounded, of course. Stan gets confused. We haven’t seen Ivy lately, so things have calmed down, thankfully. He’s become attached to Lily, probably because his wife was called Lily and I’ve been told they look similar. Lily doesn’t mind. I think she enjoys the attention.’

  I look back at the couple. Their heads are almost touching and they’re holding hands. I’m so pleased Mr Brentwood has found some joy in his life.

  Before I leave, I arrange to bring Tilly in on Monday after school to meet Peter and plan her project which will start on Tuesday. This will be such a positive experience for her and I’m glad the residential home was a non-starter. I’m looking forward to coming here with her, so much so that I forget the time until I realise I’ve only ten minutes to get to my meeting with Karen.

  I rush across town, but the Gods are not on my side. Every traffic light turns red as I approach and I’m five minutes late. Karen looks pointedly at her watch as I enter the office then gets up and heads to the small interview room at the back. Ho hum. Time for a ticking off.

  I sit opposite Karen and look her full in the eye as she releases a tirade about how disappointed she is with me. He words slide off me today. It’s only when she says she’s recording the fact that she’s given me a verbal warning that I really take notice. Damn. This will be on my personal file for six months and if I do apply for other jobs she’ll put it in my reference.

  ‘I had high hopes for you, Sophie. As you know, there’s likely to be a post created in the team for an Assistant Manager and you and Sarah are the strongest candidates.’

  Huh. That’s as good as telling me that Sarah is getting the job.

  I smile sweetly. ‘I’m sorry for missing Patience’s text. It won’t happen again.’

  Karen puffs up her chest and gives me a small nod. I’m perched on the edge of my chair like a runner on the starting blocks. Max is making me a late lunch at his house. I wonder if he’s as impatient for us to be on our own as I am.

  Max’s house is easy to find and this time the traffic lights are on green. I park on the road and try to slow my heart rate with some deep breathing. Max’s BMW is on his drive. I’m impressed with his house. It was built around the 1980s and is very neat. The grass is short, there are ornamental leafy plants in tubs and the paintwork is immaculate. Now that I’m here I’ve got a tangle of butterflies in my stomach. I know this is more than lunch. Should I do this? Of course, I should. I’m thirty-six years old and entitled to some romance in my life. I check myself in the rear-view mirror then get out of the car.

  Max opens the door before I ring the bell. He smiles then takes me into his arms. Yes, I definitely should do this. His lips are warm and soft; his arms wrapped around me are firm. I nestle into his embrace, moulding my body to his. He always makes me feel safe and protected. He leads me through to his dining room. The table has been set beautifully with napkins and flowers. There’s soft music playing and a delicious smell coming from the kitchen.

  He sets food in front of me with a flourish. Crikey. He’s a better cook than me. A tender, thinly sliced duck breast lies on a colourful array of vegetables and a trail of sauce artistically decorates the plate. Yum. I thought I was too nervous to eat but this is delicious.

  ‘Did you make this sauce yourself?’

  ‘Yes, it’s easy, really. I can give you the recipe if you like it.’

  ‘It’s delicious.’ I lift a twirl of noodles into my mouth.

  ‘We should be eating with chopsticks,’ he says.

  ‘OK,’ I laugh. ‘I’m up for that.’

  He looks surprised, but I don’t tell him we had a game when I was a child where we had to pick up beads with chopsticks. He fetches some and is suitably impressed with my dexterity.

  ‘Are you one of those people who’s good at everything?’ he asks.

  ‘Hardly. I definitely can’t cook as well as you.’

  He reaches for my hand and strokes it gently with his thumb. The heady smell of the roses on the table and the uplifting music are almost too much with his caress. I’m impatient now for the next course and I don’t mean dessert. Max must see it in my eyes because he stands and pulls me to my feet then leads me upstairs.

  I lie beneath him, drowning in his kisses. He runs his tongue lightly up the side of my face and I giggle with delight. It tickles. He delicately traces fingertips along my arms and neck leaving trails of fire. He takes me on a journey of pleasure, my senses building as though I’m climbing, up and up, to the top of a mountain and then I’m soaring through the sky in ecstasy. I spiral slowly back to earth, drifting like a sycamore seed. I feel sleepy now. If only we could lie here all afternoon enjoying the feel of each other. I open one eye to check the time.

  ‘Oh my God! I need to get back to work.’ I leap out of bed and grab my clothes to cover my nakedness. I feel strangely embarrassed now.

  Max sits up and reaches for my hand.

  ‘Don’t rush off. Stay and have a coffee.’

  ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m already in the dog house with my manager. I can’t risk another warning.’

  ‘Warning? What for?’

  ‘I’ll tell you about it next time I see you.’ I didn’t tell Max because I didn’t want him to feel bad about cancelling Ivy’s care. I shove my foot in my knickers and catch my toe in the elastic, almost tripping myself over.

  ‘Steady! You’ll injure yourself.’ Max laughs. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon win her around again. You’re so good at your job.’

  ‘Karen doesn’t forgive and forget easily.’

  Max sees me to the door after pulling on jeans and a sweatshirt then gives me a last lingering kiss.

  ‘Can we do this again?’ he asks.

  ‘Most definitely.’

  I glance in the rear-view mirror as I head back to the office. My cheeks are glowing, and my eyes are shining. I wonder if anyone will notice?

  49

  Tilly rifles through her wardrobe and throws a wrap-over dress onto the bed. No, that looks too frumpy. She was made to wear it to her grandad’s retirement party and she looked like a mini version of her mum. She wants to look grown up for her dad, but she doesn’t want to remind him too much of Sophie.

  Tilly finally settles on her usual jeans, short T-shirt, and hoodie then makes her way downstairs.

  ‘Can I have some money, Mum? I’ll get those sweets you told me about. Can you write me a list? I can’t remember what they’re called.’

  ‘I thought we could all go into town this morning. We could visit the museum for ideas for your project and ask if we can borrow a few items.’ Sophie beams at her. ‘I’m really excited about doing this assignment with you.’

  Oh shit. How’s Tilly going to get out of this one? If it wasn’t for meeting her dad Tilly would be delighted with her mum’s suggestion. She’s looking forward to doing her project, too.

  ‘Sorry, Mum, but I’ve arranged to go with Izzie.’

  Mum looks disappointed then her face lights up again.

  ‘Izzie can come with us. There’s plenty of room and I’ll buy us all a coffee. I’ve just been paid.’ She looks really pleased with herself.

  Tilly sighs and traces the edge of the tiles with her toe. ‘The thing is, Mum, we’re meeting a couple of other friends in town and I don’t want them moaning about me behin
d my back if I let them down.’

  ‘You can’t all descend on the museum. They definitely won’t lend anything to a gang of teenagers in hoodies.’

  ‘I’ll go and see what there is then perhaps you can phone them on Monday. The person in charge probably won’t be there on a Saturday anyway. Why don’t you take Mia to the park or something?’

  ‘I don’t understand you, Tilly. One minute you say I never spend time with you because Mia’s my favourite then you push me away and tell me to go out with her.’

  ‘I know. Sorry. It’s just that I’ve made plans. You could buy stuff for Mia’s party now that you’ve been paid. She’d love that. Maybe Max could go with you.’

  Sophie looks at Tilly in surprise then her mouth smiles but her eyes don’t.

  ‘Good idea,’ she says leaving the room to get her phone.

  Phew. That was difficult. Tilly stands for a few moments staring after her. She’ll try and make it up to her later.

  Sitting on the bus, staring at the countryside, Tilly realises what she’s done and could kick herself. She’d had it all worked out before this morning. She’d meet her dad for coffee then say she wasn’t feeling well and ask him to run her home. She’s been dreaming for days about reuniting him with Sophie but now she’ll be with Max.

  On the other hand, Tilly wants Max’s phone so perhaps it’s too early to get her mum and dad together, anyway. She’s being a mercenary bitch about the phone but so what? It’s not like she’s had a lot in life.

  The café is busy with shoppers. Tilly scans the faces. Will she recognise him from the photo? A table near the back has a single occupant but he has a bald patch. Hasn’t her dad got a full head of hair? She approaches cautiously, willing the man to turn around and show his face. It’s too embarrassing to peer at someone as you walk by. And anyway, wouldn’t he be facing the door to watch out for her?

  She walks past and slows down, turning to look him full in the face. He looks up in surprise, a question furrowing his brow. Not him. Definitely not him. Thank God for that. But if this isn’t him, where the bloody hell is he? Surely, he isn’t going to stand her up again? She turns back towards the counter to order herself a coffee, using her own precious money again, when someone calls her name.

  ‘Tilly?’

  She spins around and sees a man sitting on the other side of the café, staring at her. She hadn’t spotted him behind a huge bloke the size of a garden shed. Yes, this is her dad. She recognises the unusual curly hair. He gets up as she walks over.

  ‘You look just like your mother. How are you, love? Fancy a coffee or a hot chocolate?’

  ‘Can I have a caramel latte please?’ Should she suggest a cake as well? It’s a bit cheeky but why not?

  ‘Would you like a cake or cookie with it?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes, please.’ Good. He’s asked her. ‘A chocolate muffin.’

  Tilly wriggles into her chair and watches him across the room. He’s not as tall as she’d expected. Shame, really. She was hoping to inherit some height from him as Sophie’s only five feet four. Tilly should have at least a couple more years of growing to do. She hates being shorter than her friends. She always feels at a disadvantage.

  He takes his change from the girl behind the counter saying, ‘Thanks, love,’ as he walks away.

  He called the barista ‘love’. A complete stranger! He wasn’t singling Tilly out for the endearment, then. He comes back to the table and places the coffee and cake in front of her. She mumbles her thanks then adds a sachet of sugar and stirs it slowly.

  ‘I’m surprised you need any sugar with that caramel syrup,’ he says.

  ‘I’ve got a sweet tooth.’ Not that you’d know. You probably don’t even know my middle name. They stare at each other for a minute, neither of them knowing what to say.

  ‘So, how’s school going?’

  Oh God. Not that again. What is it with old people? Don’t they have any imagination?

  ‘Fine.’ Tilly licks froth from the edge of her glass and peels the paper off her muffin.

  ‘How’s your mum?’

  That’s more like it. Tilly gives him a smile and launches into describing how wonderful Sophie is. It sounds strange even to her own ears as she’s not used to saying positive things about her. When she’s with her friends they all moan about their mums nagging them constantly and making them do boring stuff like homework and tidying their rooms. But Tilly warms to her theme now.

  ‘Mum works so hard to look after us and she gets no help from anyone. She’s always worrying about the bills.’

  Harry looks surprised. ‘I thought she was living with another bloke now? You’ve got a sister, haven’t you?’

  ‘Her dad left a while ago. I don’t know if he pays for anything, but I know Mum’s struggling.’

  ‘Is that why you wanted to see me?’

  ‘No. Maybe, oh, I don’t know.’ Tilly flushes a dark red.

  This isn’t going the way she had planned. He thinks she’s just a money grabber. She opens her mouth to explain that she wants to know more about him so that she can learn more about herself but his phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, looks at the screen then takes the call. Tilly feels miffed. Can’t he talk to the caller later? This is her time.

  ‘Hello, babycakes,’ he says.

  Babycakes! What sort of name is that? Is it his wife or Tilly’s new sister?

  ‘I’m having coffee with a friend. No. I’ll be back by four. See you later, darling.’ He puts his phone back in his pocket.

  ‘Who was that?’ Tilly asks.

  ‘My daughter, Megan.’ He can’t look Tilly in the eye.

  ‘You haven’t told her about me, have you?’ Tilly guesses. ‘Doesn’t she know she has a sister?’

  ‘It’s a bit awkward, love. My wife doesn’t know about you and if she finds out she’ll be angry that I’ve not told her before.’

  ‘Will you tell them now?’ Tilly’s voice is getting louder and shriller. A couple on the next table look across and she glares at them. Why are people so bloody nosey?

  ‘Like I said, it’s awkward. I need time to think about it.’

  He needs to think about it? What right has he got to stop two sisters from seeing each other? Why hasn’t he told his wife about Tilly? She jumps to her feet, knocking her half-eaten muffin across the table and scattering brown crumbs everywhere.

  ‘Are you ashamed of me? Is that it?’ Tears make his face look blurry. She doesn’t want to be here anymore. She yanks her chair out of the way and grabs her coat. So much for asking him to her sixteenth birthday party.

  ‘Wait, Tilly. I brought this for you.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. ‘It’s five hundred pounds. I would have given you more but it’s all I can afford.’

  ‘I don’t want your money.’ She feels cheapened by it. Like he’s trying to buy her off. She turns and clumsily makes her way between the customers then out of the door. A sob catches in her throat as the cold air hits her and she stumbles blindly in the direction of the bus station. He doesn’t want her. He’s never wanted her.

  She knocks into a heavily set man then rebounds off him, twisting her ankle as she stumbles over the edge of the kerb. She manages to right herself but the pain, oh God, the pain is excruciating. Her ankle is on fire. She hops across the pavement trying to avoid pedestrians and leans on the wall.

  She’s crying uncontrollably now; snot and tears covering her face. She doesn’t know if it’s because of her ankle or because her dad has rejected her. And how is she going to get home on the bus when she can’t walk? She fumbles in her pocket but can’t find a tissue.

  ‘Tilly, love. Are you hurt?’ Her dad has followed her out of the café and is standing next to her. He takes her elbow gently and she leans on him. He pulls a hankie from his pocket and hands it to her.

  ‘Come on, I’ll take you home. Wait here and I’ll fetch the car.’

  50

  ‘I’m sorry, Mia, but you can’t take that
lot,’ I tell her.

  Mia is coming cautiously down the stairs, two feet to every tread and trying to peer round a huge armful of cuddly toys. She drops one and it bounces down the stairs to land by my feet.

  ‘Let me help. You’re going to fall if you’re not careful.’

  ‘I’ve got to take them all because I promised.’ A worried frown creases Mia’s forehead. ‘They’ll be upset if they don’t go.’

  I’m not quite sure how to get out of this one and have to think fast. If I let her take them in Max’s car she’ll want to carry them all around the shops.

  ‘How about this?’ I suggest. ‘You take Snoopy with you and we give the rest of the toys their own picnic here until you get back.’

  I go into the lounge and pull the furry throw off the sofa, spreading it on the floor. ‘You sit them down then fetch your tea set and I’ll bring a plate of biscuits.’

  I can see the cogs of her brain whirring as she mulls this over then she walks into the lounge and opens her arms. Soft toys scatter in all directions. That was easier than I expected. I rush into the kitchen for the biscuits while Mia sits her furry friends in a circle.

  Max will be here in five minutes and I don’t want to keep him waiting. I glow with pleasure every time I think of our time together yesterday though poor Max sounded harassed when I rang him a couple of hours ago to see if he wanted to come party shopping. He said there was a problem at one of the properties he’s just sold as some kids had set light to an old caravan. He needed to go and look at what remained and arrange for it to be taken to a dump.

  As I walk back into the lounge I hear the doorbell so, placing the plate quickly on the floor, I rush to answer it.

  ‘Hi, Sophie,’ Max stands there with a soppy grin on his face, holding out Woodstock and the fat, cream roses that had adorned his dining table yesterday. ‘I thought you’d appreciate these more than me.’