Sleep: The most suspenseful, twisty, unputdownable thriller of 2019!

by C. L. Taylor

  ‘Dorothy, please,’ Dad said. ‘Keep your voice down. You can’t talk like that.’

  ‘Why can’t I? Why can’t I express how I feel? I can’t be silent. I need to—’

  ‘You’re getting hysterical.’

  ‘Please,’ my mum begged. ‘Please help me, Gerald. I can’t live like this any more.’

  My dad fell quiet then and I could have sworn I heard the faint click of his medical bag.

  ‘What’s that?’ I heard my mum ask. ‘I don’t need an injection, Gerald. I need a pill.’

  My dad didn’t reply.

  Mum screamed, shouted and begged.

  Then she was quiet too.

  Chapter 43

  Anna

  I run as fast as I can, my boots slipping in the mud, the rain lashing at my face and my shoulder jarring with every step, but Fiona reaches the man on the cliff top before I do. She stops suddenly, about twenty metres from the edge, her back curved, her head low, bracing herself against the driving wind. Beyond her, sitting with his legs dangling over the edge of the cliff, is Malcolm.

  ‘Don’t come any closer!’ he shouts. ‘Or I’ll jump.’

  ‘Malcolm!’ I shout back. ‘Please move away from the edge. The weather will have made the cliffs unstable.’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  Fiona looks at me. ‘Should I go and get Melanie?’

  ‘No, not yet. I might need you here.’

  For what, I’m not entirely sure, but from the hunch of Malcolm’s shoulders and the way he’s rocking back and forth I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t make any sudden movements.

  ‘You know, don’t you?’ he shouts back at us. ‘I can tell by the look on your faces.’

  I stare at him blankly. I’ve got no idea what he’s talking about but Fiona seems to.

  ‘You beat up Trevor!’ she shouts. ‘Didn’t you?’

  As Malcolm turns to look at us he loses his balance and ends up on his side, his bottom and legs hanging over the edge. He grabs frantically at a clump of heather to stop himself from slipping over completely. ‘Don’t!’ he shouts as I move to help him. He hauls his body away from the edge and lies on his back, his eyes closed against the rain falling from the grey-black sky. When he laughs, it’s manic and jubilant. ‘You’re going to have to do better than that, you fucker! When I die, I get to choose when! Not you!’

  ‘Don’t move, Malcolm!’ I shout. ‘Stay where you are.’

  ‘Does Melanie know what I did?’

  Do I tell him or not? I pause a fraction too long and Malcolm roars with anger and scrabbles to his feet, his walking boots slipping in the sodden earth.

  ‘You’re not the only one who’s done something wrong,’ I shout. ‘We’ve all acted in terrible ways. This storm has brought out the worst in us.’

  Malcolm raises his arms out to the side, at a ninety-degree angle to his body, and takes a step backwards.

  ‘Stop!’ I step towards him but Fiona nudges me sharply.

  ‘Don’t. He’ll do it. He’ll step off the edge. Look at the expression on his face. You need to talk him down, Anna.’

  ‘Melanie’s going to leave me!’ Malcolm shouts. ‘She thinks I’m scum. I’ve seen it in her face.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘She doesn’t want me anywhere near her. She can’t even bear to look at me.’

  ‘You can still put this right.’ The rain is so heavy now I have to blink continuously to keep it out of my eyes. ‘You’ve got your issues but don’t all couples? This isn’t what Melanie would want. It’s not what Katie would want.’

  ‘Katie doesn’t love me!’

  ‘You’re part of her life. She’s already lost her dad. If you do this she’ll be scarred forever. Mel will be too.’

  ‘They’d be better off without me.’

  ‘How do you know that? You made a mistake, Malcolm, and you did something awful—’

  ‘I beat up a defenceless man!’

  ‘Yes, you did. And you’re going to have to live with that for the rest of your life because that’s what we do when we fuck up. We say sorry, we try to put things right and we just get on with it. We get on with life and we try not to fuck up again.’

  He stares at me – the only sound the roar of the wind and the drumming of the rain – and for a second I think I’ve got through to him. But then he takes another step back.

  ‘Malcolm, stop! You’re not alone! You’re not the only person in the hotel wrestling with regret. You’re not the only one who’s torn up inside because of something you did.’

  ‘What do you know about pain?’ he bellows.

  ‘I killed two people and crippled another!’ My eyes fill with tears but I blink them back. ‘Two people died because of me. I should have had my eyes on the road. I should have looked in my wing mirrors. I should have seen the huge, great truck that was thundering towards us from another lane. But I didn’t. And do you know why? Because of my pride! Because I needed to show I was in control. That I was the boss. That I was…’ I choke on my own words.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Fiona says. ‘It’s okay, Anna.’

  I force myself upright again. ‘Don’t you fucking dare step off that cliff, Malcolm. Don’t you do that to me. Don’t give me another life to grieve over. Don’t give me another regret.’ My voice breaks. ‘Don’t you fucking dare!’

  Malcolm stares at me, his eyes clouded with confusion and despair.

  Don’t do it, I will him. Don’t do it.

  My heart leaps into my throat as he takes another step backwards.

  Then he sinks to his knees, wraps his hands over his head and howls with pain.

  Neither Malcolm nor Fiona say a word about my confession as we trudge back up the hill to the hotel, although I catch Fiona glancing at me several times out of the corner of my eye. Malcolm, teeth chattering, seems completely out of it. Christine takes one looks at him as we shepherd him into the lounge and suggests to Katie that they go upstairs for a bit.

  ‘Before you go.’ Fiona reaches into her hoody and pulls out the cat by the scruff of its neck. The fight seems to have gone out of it and it hangs limply from her fingers until she supports its weight in her other hand.

  Katie, enshrouded in blankets with just her face peeping out, squeals with excitement then wriggles her arms free. ‘Where did you get that?’

  ‘We found it in Gordon’s cottage.’ She carefully transfers the cat into Katie’s outstretched hands. ‘It’s tired and hungry. Here’ – she reaches for the pocket of my jacket, still dangling from my shoulders, and pulls out two tins of food – ‘give it one of these and see if you can find something to use as a litter tray.’

  Katie barely has time to hug Fiona thank you before Christine shoos her, and the cat, out of the room. Malcolm doesn’t comment about the cat or the fact that Katie barely gave him a second glance. In fact, he hardly registers that there are other people in the room. He stands lifeless by the window, dripping rainwater onto the carpet, and I have to call his name three times to get him to take a seat by the fire.

  Fiona retrieves the whisky bottle and three glasses from the cabinet beneath the bookcase and pours out three hefty measures. Malcolm has two for every one of mine but I don’t comment and I don’t criticise. But I do slump back in my chair and close my eyes when his jaw finally stops juddering and his breathing slows and settles. Now the adrenaline has worn off, my body feels leaden and amorphous, as though my bones have been stripped out in one swift tug.

  ‘Are you okay, Anna?’ Fiona asks. ‘Your arm’s not hurting, is it?’

  ‘No more than it was earlier.’ The dull throb is still there, from my neck to my fingertips. I unhook the sling from behind my neck and experimentally wiggle my fingers then stretch and contract my arm. It hurts, but it’s not unbearable.

  As I carefully manoeuvre my arm back into the sling, Malcolm shifts in his chair.

  ‘How are you doing?’ I ask. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

  He slugs at his
whisky, the skin pinched and grey beneath his cheekbones, his eyes distant and glassy. He looks old all of a sudden. Late seventies rather than late fifties.

  ‘I guess I should make the most of this.’ He drains his glass.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I imagine you’ll want to swap me with Trevor and put me in the utility room.’

  Fiona catches my eye. He doesn’t know that we haven’t found him yet.

  ‘Trevor’s still missing,’ I say.

  I brace myself for an explosive reaction; instead, Malcolm’s glass wobbles as he sets it back on the table.

  ‘Joe and Melanie are still looking for him,’ Fiona says. I join her as she gets up, walks across to the window and stares out. ‘It’s getting dark,’ she says, keeping her voice low so Malcolm can’t hear.

  ‘You don’t think they’ll find him, do you?’

  ‘I’m sure he’ll be all right. He’s ex-military, isn’t he?’

  ‘He hasn’t got a tent though.’

  ‘How do you know?’ She gives me a quizzical look. She doesn’t know I searched Trevor’s rucksack for his medication.

  ‘I … I don’t. I just assumed. Do you think he’ll come back? Later? After everything’s calmed down a bit?’

  She gives me a look. ‘Would you?’

  Chapter 44

  The moment I hear the front door opening and the sound of voices in the lobby I hiss at Fiona to keep an eye on Malcolm, then hurry out of the lounge and close the door behind me. Melanie, her hair plastered to her scalp, shakes her head as she peels off her coat.

  ‘We looked everywhere but there’s no sign of him.’

  ‘I know.’ I take her coat from her, hang it up on the peg then wipe my wet hands on my jeans. ‘Fiona and I searched the cottage. We think he broke in and took a few things but he’s not there now. I’m hoping, if he doesn’t come back here, he’ll stay there tonight because at least that way …’ I glance at Joe, who’s taking off his boots and has avoided eye contact with me ever since they came in, ‘… at least that way he’ll be dry, if not warm.’

  ‘This is a bit delicate,’ Mel says carefully, ‘but Joe and I were talking on the walk back, about David. He’s been in his room for a few days now and … um … nature’s obviously taking its course.’

  She means the smell.

  ‘We thought it might be a good idea if he were moved,’ she adds. ‘Perhaps to the greenhouse in the garden. Just until we can call for help.’

  I hate the idea of it, the indignity of David being laid out amongst withered tomato plants and bags of compost, but Melanie’s right. None of us have any idea how much longer the storm’s going to last and he can’t stay in his room.

  ‘That’s fine,’ I say. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Joe very kindly agreed to carry him and, if Malcolm agrees, he could help.’

  ‘I’ll go up and …’ Joe straightens up, rubbing his lower back with his knuckles, ‘… check on David.’

  I watch him take the stairs, each step slow and laboured, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and my heart twists in my chest. Moving David isn’t a job anyone would actively choose to do, but for Joe to have lost his brother recently it has to be doubly difficult. I want to go after him, to tell him that I understand, but he’s still angry with me, I can tell. His brother lost his life locked up in a small room against his will and I sanctioned Trevor’s imprisonment.

  ‘Mel, hang on a sec!’ I slide between Melanie and the door to the lounge as she moves to go inside. I need to tell her what happened with Malcolm before she sees him. ‘Can I have a quick word with you?’

  ‘Sure.’ She tries to reach round me for the door handle.

  ‘Not here. In private. Do you mind if we go up to your room?’

  ‘What’s this about?’ Melanie perches on the edge of her bed, her hands pressed between her knees. ‘You look very serious, Anna.’

  Serious, and nervous. I push down the panic that bubbles in the pit of my stomach and adjust the sling so it’s not cutting into the back of my neck. Now I’ve pretty much ruled Joe out as my stalker there’s every possibility that I’m alone with the person who wants me dead. It’s the reason I’ve taken the seat nearest the door and why I scanned the room for potential weapons the moment I walked in. But there are no weapons to speak of, just a glass of water and a book on the bedside table, two rucksacks and four walking poles propped up against a wall.

  ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’ Melanie says.

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  She raises her eyebrows above the red rims of her glasses. ‘The look on your face.’

  ‘It’s about your husband. I’m worried about him. When we were looking for Trevor we found Malcolm sitting on the edge of the cliff. He … he threatened to throw himself off.’

  Melanie presses the palms of both hands into the bed as though to steady herself. ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘I am. He admitted he was the one who beat Trevor up.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ She folds into herself, wrapping her arms around her head.

  ‘Melanie? Are you okay?’

  She looks up at me, a pained expression in her eyes. ‘I thought it might be him but I wouldn’t let myself believe it. We had an argument last night. He got drunk and I told him that I hated the way he talked about Trevor. I said I didn’t want to share a room with him and he should sleep on the sofa. I went up to bed but I couldn’t sleep. When I came down to check on him he wasn’t in the lounge. He was sitting on the floor of the kitchen with his head in his hands, crying and muttering.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘He kept saying sorry, mostly. I’m sorry, Trevor. I’m a fucking arsehole. That kind of thing. I didn’t realise then what he’d done. I thought he was just feeling sorry for himself, so I crept away without him seeing me. I’m so sorry, Anna. I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe I married a man like that. I genuinely … I really had no idea that he could do something like …’ She buries her face in her hands again and sighs heavily.

  I ease myself out of the chair and wrap an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s not your fault. You had no way of knowing he’d do that.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ She pulls away. ‘He’s never hit me, never hit anyone as far as I know, but he’s always so bloody angry. I don’t know why. Apart from children he’s got everything he ever wanted out of life but he’s wound up so tightly and he’ll take any opportunity to complain, moan or criticise. It does my head in! I can’t watch the news with him any more because he just rants all the way through it.’

  She sighs again. ‘I wanted children too but you don’t see me beating up defenceless men. Secretly I think he resents me, Anna. I was forty-one when we met and time was never going to be on my side. Malcolm’s sperm could probably do the job well into his seventies, that’s what he claims anyway, but my eggs …’ She laughs lightly. ‘What eggs?’

  ‘It sounds like he’s been really insensitive.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it.’ She snorts softly. ‘Cruel’s another. You know this trip was his idea? He thought everything would be hunky-dory between us if we spent some time alone. I can’t tell you how pissed off he was when I suggested we bring Katie with us.’ She sits back and runs her hands over her face. She looks tired and emotionally spent. ‘He wouldn’t have done it, you know.’

  ‘Done what?’

  ‘Thrown himself off the cliff. He knew he’d be outed as the person who beat up Trevor as soon as we found him. I imagine he saw you running towards him, assumed you’d discovered what he’d done, and faked being suicidal to get you on side. Honestly, Anna, you’ve got no idea how manipulative he can be.’

  She looks utterly convinced by what she’s saying but I can’t reconcile it with the man I saw on the cliff top, shaking and rocking and screaming at the sky. Malcolm would have to be one hell of an actor to pull that off.

  Melanie sighs. ‘Sounds like I’ll have to have a talk with him.’

/>   ‘What will you say?’

  ‘That it’s over.’

  I start to say something then change my mind.

  Her eyes narrow behind her glasses. ‘What?’

  ‘I just … I just wonder if it might be better to have that conversation once you’re back in London. I know you think Malcolm was faking being suicidal but he just seemed very … fragile.’

  She laughs, then slaps her hand against her mouth as though forcing the sound back in. ‘He’s as fragile as a brick. Just ask Trevor.’

  ‘Okay, wrong word. Unstable then.’

  She shifts back on the bed, leans against the wall and raises her eyes to the ceiling. ‘All these unstable men that we have to tiptoe around. Could you imagine this happening if it were the other way round – if me, you, Christine or Fiona went on a rampage, smashing things up and thumping people? Do you think the men would be quite so considerate of our unstable feelings? No! Of course they bloody wouldn’t. They’d label us neurotic and give us a wide berth!’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s—’

  ‘True? Really? I was alone for six years before Malcolm came along. There was no one to catch me if I fell, no one to look after me if I had a nervous breakdown. I had to look after myself, and my ageing parents. It’s bullshit, women being the weaker sex. Who looks after us if we have enough of being strong? Huh? Tell me that! Who looks after us?’

  The base of her throat is flushed red and her eyes are shining with anger and indignation behind the glint of her glasses. She stares at me, as though challenging me to argue with her, then closes her eyes and sighs heavily.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going to say anything to Malcolm that will make him want to throw himself off a cliff. I’ve got enough on my conscience without adding that too.’

  The atmosphere in the room changes in an instant, or maybe it’s just my feelings that shift. A second ago I felt overwhelmed with sympathy and sadness for her. Now I’m tense and wary.

  ‘What do you mean? About having too much on your conscience.’

  Melanie shakes her head, her eyes still closed. ‘I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to tell you.’