The Visitor: A psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist

by K. L. Slater

  ‘I’m sure he’ll contact you at some point, but I think he’s just having the time of his life right now.’

  Subtext: he’s probably forgotten all about you, Holly had thought.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Holly

  The next morning, David came round to the house to do some handyman bits for Cora.

  Holly walked into the kitchen to find him glueing the handle onto a cream jug.

  ‘Morning, Holly. How are you finding things at work?’ he asked her hesitantly.

  ‘It’s turned out to be very good week in the end, thanks,’ Holly replied. ‘No doubt you’ll hear all about it on Monday.’

  ‘Hear about what?’

  ‘Emily’s in serious trouble. Pieces of a broken vase were found in her bag after she spent hours basically accusing me of damaging it in front of everyone.’

  David didn’t say anything, but she thought the ghost of a smile passed over his lips. Probably because he disliked Emily as much as she did.

  ‘How about you?’ she asked. ‘I bet time drags stuck outside in that cramped little kiosk.’

  ‘My office is really very comfortable,’ David said, looking back down the jug. ‘It’s warm and dry in there and everything is organised. More space than that would be a waste, really.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Holly said. ‘I suppose when you put it like that…’

  ‘And there’s lots to do, of course,’ David went on. ‘Monitoring the car park, recording car registrations, issuing tickets and ensuring time restrictions don’t lapse. Then there are the odd jobs I often do for Mr Kellington and sometimes Josh. Favours.’

  ‘You must be very busy.’ Holly nodded, eager to avoid further tedious details. ‘I see that now. Well, I don’t want to distract you from what you came here to do.’

  She selected a glass from the cupboard and ran the cold tap.

  ‘I have plenty of time,’ David said behind her. ‘I wondered…’

  ‘Yes?’ She turned.

  ‘Well, it’s fine if you aren’t interested, but…’

  She waited.

  ‘It’s just that you said about that book… the film… I thought, if you weren’t busy… would you like to go to the cinema next weekend, to see Rear Window?’

  Holly stared at him.

  ‘It’s fine! Don’t worry. I thought you’d more than likely be busy, it was silly of me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…’ His words tailed off and he coughed and turned back to his repair job.

  ‘It’s really nice of you to ask, David, and… thank you. I’d love to go to the cinema.’

  He didn’t look up and she suspected he was holding his breath, as his face seemed to become more flushed by the second.

  ‘Were you thinking of going on Saturday, or Sunday?’ she asked lightly.

  He turned to look at her. His whole face was twitching, as if he’d just been given a slight electric shock. Not the most attractive look, she thought.

  ‘Whichever you’d prefer,’ he said, speaking quickly now. ‘Saturday, Sunday… it’s all the same to me. I’ll find out the times, shall I?’

  ‘Good idea.’ She beamed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No,’ he said quietly, clasping his hands together in front of him. She was reminded of a child standing in front of a present-laden tree on Christmas morning. ‘Thank you, Holly.’

  The house phone began ringing in the living room, so she left David to his mending and walked out of the kitchen.

  Before she could get there, the ringing stopped and she heard Cora speaking.

  ‘No, this is not she. My name is Mrs Cora Barrett… Yes. Yes, she does live here… Certainly. Who shall I say is calling?’

  Holly froze just outside the door, her mouth dry.

  ‘Very well. Hold the line, please.’ Holly watched through the crack in the door as Cora put her hand over the receiver and called out, ‘Holly!’

  She held her breath and didn’t move.

  ‘Holly… Call for you, dear!’

  To her horror, Cora shuffled forward and perched on the edge of the seat cushion before speaking into the telephone again.

  ‘I’ll have to go and get her,’ she sighed. ‘Can you hold the line a moment?… Hello? Hello?’

  She replaced the receiver, muttering.

  Holly pushed open the door and Cora looked up.

  ‘Oh, there you are. Cheeky devil, just ringing off like that. Some people have no patience whatsoever.’

  Holly swallowed, her mouth and lips suddenly parched.

  ‘Who was it?’ she croaked.

  ‘A woman. Wouldn’t tell me her name, can you believe it? Said it was confidential, about some kind of unpaid bill.’ Cora narrowed her eyes. ‘Are you managing all right? I know it’s a while until payday.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Holly said briskly. ‘Listen, Cora. Could I ask a massive favour of you?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Cora beamed, seemingly pleased to be helping out.

  ‘Can I ask that if anyone else rings the house, you don’t say that I’m living here?’

  Cora’s face dropped. ‘Why would you want me to do that, dear?’

  Mindful that David was still in the kitchen, Holly pulled the door to behind her and dropped her voice lower.

  ‘I want to put my old life behind me, Cora. Some of the people I knew in Manchester weren’t good for me and I like living here with you. I want to make a complete fresh start, that’s all.’

  It was the right thing to say. Cora smiled back at her.

  ‘Consider it done.’ She nodded. ‘I shall make sure I don’t drop you in it in future.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Holly said and blew out a long breath. ‘I’ll just dial 141 and see if it registered the number they called from.

  A disconnected robotic voice informed her that the caller had withheld their number.

  She replaced the receiver.

  ‘Is your phone number ex-directory, Cora?’ she asked, trying hard to keep her voice level.

  ‘Oh no, I don’t think so. I don’t really see the point in keeping it private, otherwise why have a phone line in the first place?’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to think about it. You’d get fewer nuisance sales calls that way,’ Holly said, wondering how long she could keep the panic from her face. ‘I’m just going to sort out some bits in my bedroom. I won’t be long.’

  Upstairs, she went straight to the bathroom, worried she was about to throw up. She hung over the toilet bowl but she wasn’t sick, just had the feeling she might be.

  She splashed water over her hot cheeks and stood for a moment until the feeling receded, then crossed the landing into the cool privacy of her bedroom.

  When she lay on her bed, her insides felt as if they were turning to liquid.

  Who had called Cora’s landline? The words unpaid bill sounded like one of the debt collection agencies, which seemed feasible on the one hand; after all, there were about a dozen of them after her back in Manchester. She had all their ignored communications in the bag she’d stuffed under the bed.

  On the other hand, it didn’t make any sense for a debt collection agency to refuse to tell Cora their company name but then disclose that Holly had an unpaid bill. That didn’t follow at all and didn’t conform to strict data protection practices.

  So then – she bit her lip – who was it who had called? Who knew she lived here? If they had this phone number, they probably had the address, too. She’d heard Cora give her own name, so it wouldn’t be difficult to trace her through the electoral roll.

  She had a sudden urge, and before she could talk herself out of it, she’d rummaged at the back of her underwear drawer and grabbed the bottle of wine hidden there. It was unchilled and cheap, but that didn’t matter. It would help, and that was what counted.

  She picked up a glass from the floor, glugged back the inch of water in there and half filled it with wine, which she gulped down in one. She refilled the glass, taking another few sips, then put it on the bedside table before lyin
g back on the bed again.

  She covered her face with her hands.

  She felt like crying but was too tense to even try. It felt like every muscle in her body had pulled taut enough to snap.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Holly

  She’d drifted off a while, lying on the bed. The wine had helped to calm her down but the sick feeling in her stomach had got worse, if anything.

  She sat up abruptly at the sound of a voice at the bottom of the stairs and baulked at the sting of reflux at the back of her throat.

  ‘Goodbye, Holly,’ David called up.

  She sprang up off the bed and rushed to the door, calling to him far too brightly.

  ‘Bye, David! Let me know about the cinema times.’

  Sometimes he irritated her. He was odd – everybody thought so – and she still hadn’t got to the bottom of what had happened to him, or indeed what was behind Nick Brown’s rather vague warning.

  But, as she’d discovered all those years ago at school with Markus, outsiders usually found and understood each other.

  David had an air about him that tempted her to put her trust in him, in a similar way that she had trusted Markus in the early days.

  Was it really too much to think that she might be able to confide in him about her fears?

  A sinking feeling inside told her it would be a bit like letting the genie out of the bottle. If she told him she was afraid someone had tracked her down, she’d be forced to tell him why someone might be looking for her.

  And David was probably clueless enough to mention it to Cora.

  She was trapped by her own secrets.

  Still, it seemed like the best plan, even though she had another one simmering on the back burner. A contingency plan of sorts.

  David seemed dependable, and she didn’t really have that much choice in terms of finding someone trustworthy enough to talk to.

  If she took things steady and didn’t rush, he could prove to be a very useful friend indeed.

  * * *

  Holly had always been a low-energy person, but after six weeks at Geraldine and Brendan’s, she barely recognised herself.

  She’d adopted Geraldine’s suggested schedule of gym training and swimming, utilising their basement fitness suite. She’d also, for the last week, been getting up an hour earlier than her usual seven-thirty daily rise and taking a twenty-minute run around the grounds.

  She had dropped twenty pounds in weight. The puppy fat had melted away, her skin was clearer, her hair glossier, and she felt great.

  ‘It’s all thanks to you,’ she’d told Geraldine as they enjoyed a fruit and vitamin juice breakfast on the patio.

  ‘You’re the one who’s done all the work,’ Geraldine had said generously, but Holly knew the routine too well to be fooled.

  ‘But I’d never have thought of embarking on a fitness routine unless you’d suggested it,’ she’d said dutifully. ‘You’ve changed my life, Geraldine. Thank you.’

  ‘Oh sweetie, stop.’ Geraldine’s face had glowed with something that resembled satisfaction more than humility. ‘I just gave you a little encouragement is all. It’s important to me that you be the best you can be. And I do care about you, I hope you know that.’

  ‘It’s really nice of you to say so.’ Holly had smiled and touched Geraldine’s hand. ‘But I really am so grateful.’

  It was true that Holly had to play the game, letting Geraldine get her own way and saying the right things all the time, but was it really such a high price to pay?

  Everyone had complaints about their work, stuff that got on their nerves, stuff they wished they didn’t have to do. Like working a twelve-hour shift on a boring production line, getting up at five in the morning for a two-hour commute, working August bank holiday weekend in a stifling, overcrowded call centre.

  In Holly’s opinion, these would have been things to complain about.

  Complimenting Geraldine, ordering healthy food off the menu, following workout advice and shifting a bit of weight… these were duties that Holly felt able to fulfil.

  Geraldine had talked a bit about her own past and had confided guiltily in Holly that she had come from a privileged background. She’d never been short of money or affection as a child or an adult; had gone from Daddy taking care of her to Brendan providing a very nice life.

  Yes, Geraldine had been spoiled. Yes, she often complained relentlessly about things like running out of her favourite yoghurts, or Patricia not toasting her breakfast bagel quite long enough.

  But Holly had believed her when she’d said she cared about her.

  Chapter Fifty

  David

  I call it my other life, the one before I met Della Carter. The life before it happened.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been the sociable type, never been the sort to play footie with the lads on Saturday morning and pile into the pub to drink beer until teatime.

  But I did have a life of sorts that suited me and wasn’t based on fear.

  Now, my days are a fine balance between routine and necessity.

  Don’t go out after dark, stay away from people (especially the ones you don’t know), do the same things at the same time so there are no surprises, take your medication as advised, and most important of all: don’t get yourself into a fix again.

  I try to live by these rules every day, although I have to admit that recently I’ve once again felt the swell of uncertainty and disruption. There are still occasions when life catches me out and I have to try and avoid them to keep myself on the level.

  And fixes are hard to avoid when you’re not so good at recognising the warning signs.

  Sometimes things get the better of me, like when Mother persuaded me, against my better judgement, to attend the local church’s spring fayre last year.

  I stood holding the cups while Mother went to the cake stall to find something sweet to have with our tea. The fayre was well attended and there were lots of people milling around.

  The hum around me grew louder, the squeals, laughter, clattering… it all began to reverberate in my ears like I was back in the white room with no furniture.

  A twisty feeling started up in my gut as I stood there frozen to the spot with sweat running down my face, the teacups starting to rattle in their saucers.

  ‘Let me take those for you a moment,’ a kind voice said. A man in a dog collar took the cups and put them on a table, and I said thank you and breathed out. ‘They can be very taxing events, these fayres. Jolly noisy, too. Would you like me to get you a chair?’

  ‘No. Thank you but I’m fine.’ I was aware that people were already looking. ‘I was just waiting for my mother, she’s buying cake.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’ He nodded, smiling his understanding.

  We stood for a moment without speaking. Him in his long black cassock, bouncing on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back, surveying his flock. And me frantically mopping my face with my handkerchief and trying to remember to breathe.

  Then people – women mainly – started to gravitate towards us.

  Oh yes, Father – no, Father – oh it’s a marvellous event you’ve put on here, Father…

  On and on they droned. And when he eventually left to draw the raffle, they didn’t go with him. They started talking to me instead.

  It was a prime example of how I get lulled into a false sense of security where I start to trust strangers, and the same thing happens again and again no matter who I’m with or where I am.

  Someone seems friendly enough and I start to talk and forget what I’m saying, and I don’t know if it’s the nerves or what, but soon I see their faces start to change.

  I’m never really sure what it is I have or haven’t done.

  And that’s what it’s always felt like, being me.

  But today, when I’m finished at Mrs Barrett’s and I’ve said goodbye to Holly, I walk back round to the house and there’s a light feeling in my heart.

  Something�
��s not right with Holly, I know that, like I knew it with Della. But this time, I feel sure it’s nothing to do with me.

  After the landline rang at the house, she was jumpy, nervous, and she wouldn’t take the call. I couldn’t hear what she was saying in the living room, but I know that tone. It’s the same tone Mother has used all her life when she’s talking about me, first to my father, now to Brian.

  It’s a tone that tries to conceal alarm and concern. It’s a tone that can cover up lies very well, like a thick layer of butter might conceal mouldy bread.

  I hesitate and look down towards number 11.

  There’s nobody on the street just now and no sign of life from the Browns’, but I still rush straight back in through our front gate and down the short path.

  Only then do I relax a little; linger down the side of my own house, press my back against the cool, rough brickwork.

  There are only opaque windows overlooking me here, so I have plenty of time to stand and breathe and enjoy the light feeling that for once feels stronger than the panic.

  I close my eyes and take in a deep breath of sharp, cool air. I hold it there a few seconds before releasing it again. I do it a few times more.

  I look directly up at the side of Mrs Barrett’s house, to the top floor.

  Behind that wall is Holly’s bedroom. It’s where she sleeps at night. Directly opposite it, above where I’m standing now, is my bedroom.

  At night-time, we are as close to each other as we can be. Just two slender walls between us.

  There’s a warm feeling in my chest.

  Holly didn’t make fun of me when I asked if she’d like to go to the cinema. She didn’t disappear when I spoke a bit about my job. She seemed genuinely interested.

  Holly is different in every way.

  If she’s in some kind of trouble, then perhaps I can be of assistance.

  That’s how it started with Della, too. I just wanted to help, that’s all it was, and she told me she wanted me to be involved. She told me she wanted my help.