Who is Sarah Lawson: A Captivating Psychological Thriller

by K. J. Rabane

  Rowena was opening the drawers of a small hexagonal side table. “No mystery – she used to sew - I mean embroider; there are embroidery silks, needles and material neatly arranged in every drawer. That sampler must have been one of hers.”

  “Home sweet home.”

  “I hope so. Anyway there’s no reason why we shouldn’t make it one.”

  “You really would like to live here?” Rowena kissed his cheek. “That’s just great. I’m so glad you like the place.”

  “Who wouldn’t? But I must say, I can’t live with that god-awful wallpaper in the hallway.”

  During the next few weeks Owen was swept along on a wave of wedding fever. Rowena seemed to spend every free moment on the phone to the wedding planner at the Manor House and at the end of the second week, following his visit to Sarah Lawson, Rowena announced that she had bought ‘the dress’. There were a few minor alterations to be made but the store had assured her that it would be ready to be picked up at the end of the month. Her excitement was infectious and Owen began to look forward to the event in earnest. Forgetting his meeting with Sarah was the difficult part. He hated not being straight with Rowena but couldn’t think how he could explain it all without looking as if he was trying to cover up an affair.

  Peter Walmsley and Mark Furnish insisted that they all had a boys’ night out the week before the wedding and so Owen reluctantly agreed to a ‘booze up’ for his Stag party. Rowena and her girlfriends were spending the weekend at a Health Spa on the outskirts of the city; a weekend of pampering she called it.

  Saturday night in London was typical of any in a large city. The bars and clubs were full of drinkers taking advantage of ‘Happy Hours’ and discounted drinks. Peter and Mark had suggested they meet in the Black Bear Club at eight. The Black Bear was tucked away in a side street and had a reputation for selling good beers and wines at reasonable prices as opposed to some of the smarter establishments selling rotgut drinks at inflated prices. Artists and businessmen were the mainstay of its clientele but on Saturday nights there was an influx of revellers drifting in from the bars on the main thoroughfares. Unfortunately for Owen, on the night of his Stag party, a pop concert was being held in Leicester Square so the Black Bear was busier than normal.

  “Owen, over here,” Peter shouted above the din as he steered a course towards his friends. The drinks were lined up on a table in front of them.

  “Made sense to buy a couple of rounds while we were at it. You can’t get to the bar for love nor money.” Hamish Dalton grinned. “Cheers my old mate, last week of freedom.”

  The drinks flowed in spite of the crowd and by the time he saw Andy Lawson Owen was well and truly drunk. He was only vaguely aware of Lawson watching him from the bar and forgot his presence almost immediately as Hamish placed another drink in his fist. The conversation around the table now had degenerated into commenting on Owen’s prowess in bed and how tasty, in order of preference, were the girls standing near the bar, each one becoming more palatable with every drink they took.

  “Nor interested,” Owen slurred.

  “Go on, last chance.” Tony, a prop for the London Welsh rugby team, dug Owen in the ribs. “She’ll never know.”

  Owen grinned, at least, he thought he grinned but he couldn’t be sure. “Nor interested,” he repeated. “I’m off to the bog.”

  Somehow he managed to find his way to the Gents and propped an arm on the tiles as he stood at the stall. He was only dimly aware of the fact that he was alone, except for a tall man washing his hands in the sink.

  “So, no friends to protect you here, scum bag.” Andy Lawson gripped him by the shoulders and threw him back against the wall. Owen felt the cold hard surface as his head cracked against the tiles.

  “Enjoying your Stag night, are you? How d’you think my little sister’s enjoying herself? Dropped her like a hot coal when your tart returned from the States. She’d booked the wedding for God’s sake.”

  Owen knew then that he must be totally out of it. It must be a dream. He screwed up his eyes as Lawson’s fist connected with his jaw and he slumped to the ground.

  “She’s been crying her eyes out ever since, you bastard.” The punch landed in his ribs and Owen thought he heard a far off crack before he briefly passed out. He was standing when he came around, propped up by Lawson’s arm, which pinioned him to the basin.

  “You deserve all you get, you little shit.” Owen was aware of Lawson’s arm being removed as he slid to the floor. A sharp pain shot through his leg and blood pumped up like a fountain until darkness descended.

  Drifting in an out of consciousness Owen heard voices and a door slam. Then something tight gripped his thigh and he drifted off again. The next thing he knew he was on a stretcher, with something over his face and a loud alarm that pierced his brain like a scalpel. He was swaying from side to side and vaguely aware that someone was talking to him.

  “Won’t be long now, son; just hang on in there.”

  The alarm was the ambulance siren; it stopped as the swaying ceased. Owen closed his eyes as he was wheeled into the Accident and Emergency Department. He wondered what had happened to him. The details were blurred but it was no dream. This was real, every ache, every cut and every bruise.

  When he next awoke he was in a hospital bed, sunlight streaking down the ward like a lightening bolt.

  “Well now and how are we feeling this morning, Mr Madoc? Not quite what you had planned for your Stag night I should imagine?” The nurse was on the plump side, her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. Her name badge read Sister Mary Dixon. “You lot will never learn; too much drink and too much money.” Her smile took the sting out of her words. “Doctor will be along in a minute. Then he’ll no doubt discharge you. You’ve been patched up and your fiancée will be along to pick you up at ten.”

  “Rowena? Did someone phone Rowena?”

  He hoped not. It was her Hen weekend and besides, how was he going to explain what had happened? He was dressed and sitting on a chair at the side of his bed waiting for Rowena when he saw Sarah Lawson making her way down the ward towards him.

  “Ready, darling? Come along let me help you up,” she said as Owen closed his eyes and prayed he was still dreaming.

  Chapter 52

  He didn’t dare speak until he was sitting in her car. He still felt weak and found it easier to be swept along on the tide of this nightmare rather than struggle against it. Eventually, as they drove in the direction of his flat, he said, “Are you ready to tell me what this is all about?”

  She drove on without glancing in his direction.

  “Let me take you home first then I’ll explain. We’re nearly there.”

  Realising that the best course of action would be to accept his fate and wait for her explanation, he closed his eyes and spent the rest of the journey in silence.

  Everything was as he’d left it, untidy and lived in. A coffee cup and plate stood on a side table, the remains of a half eaten pizza having attracted a few hungry flies. In the kitchen, he knew there would be a sink full of unwashed dishes and that his bedroom would show traces of the last night he and Rowena had spent together before she left for her spa weekend.

  It was Monday morning, Rowena would be returning to her flat later in the day. He hadn’t heard from her as they’d both decided phone calls were a ‘no no’ and that each should enjoy themselves without worrying too much about what the other was doing. What would she think when she saw the results of his Stag night?

  Sarah Lawson sat down opposite him. “Shall I make you a cup of tea or something?”

  “No. I just want an explanation,” Owen replied trying to keep a lid on his anger.

  “I’m sorry about Andy. He got hold of the wrong end of the stick. He has a nasty temper. I’d no idea he’d come after you.”

  “What about the lies? He thought I’d asked you to marry me, for God’s sake.”

  “As I said, somewhere along the line, he got things wrong.”

  Owen�
��s head was thumping with a staccato drumbeat. He pressed his palm to his temple. “I still don’t understand why he attacked me. The man must be insane.”

  “I think it was a combination of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d had far too much to drink. I know it’s not an excuse but the reason I pretended to be your fiancée this morning at the hospital was so that you’d see me. I thought if I used my real name you’d refuse.”

  “Do you blame me?”

  “No, perhaps not. Anyway, I needed to see you to plead with you not to press charges. The police have arrested Andy.”

  “They have?” Owen was even more confused, as far as he’d been aware they’d been alone when the attack had taken place. There were no witnesses; it would have been his word against Lawson’s.

  “Apparently one of your friends, Hamish someone or other, grabbed Andy as he tried to leave the washroom and kept hold of him while he phoned the police.”

  Owen attempted a weak smile but the pain in his jaw restricted his movement. Hamish, six foot five of pure muscle was a force to be reckoned with. “And you want me to forget about all this?”

  She looked down at her hands. “It’s all my fault, but I don’t want Andy’s family to suffer; there’d be a court case, his name would be plastered all over the local newspapers and with you being so well known the Nationals and the Television News Channels are bound to get hold of it.”

  Owen sighed; he didn’t want to get mixed up in publicity of this sort either, especially not before his wedding. He’d have to make up a story for Rowena, mistaken identity, anything that sounded reasonable and tell the same story to his friends.

  “And if I do this, you’ll promise to leave us alone? No more phone calls, no more pretending to be Rowena and no more nonsense about you and me being a couple.”

  She nodded. Her head was still lowered so he couldn’t see her eyes. He picked up the telephone and rang the number of the investigating officer on the card Sarah had handed him.

  Afterwards, Owen stood at the window and looked down into the street. He saw her car pull away from the curb and once again prayed that it would be the last time he’d see her. But it suddenly occurred to him that her hair was now the same colour as Rowena’s and that simple fact sent a cold shiver down his spine.

  Half an hour later, his mobile rang. It was his fiancée. “Did you have a good weekend?” Rowena asked

  He grunted evasively and said that he’d missed her.

  “Me too. But I must admit I feel a million dollars after all that pampering. I’ll be over this evening, after I’ve unpacked. Then you can see what I mean.”

  The thought of her hands touching his body made him wince. How was he going to explain the mess he was in? After he put the phone down, he went into the bedroom, stripped off his clothes and inspected the result of Lawson’s attack. His face looked as if he’d gone twelve rounds with a heavyweight prize-fighter and the bruises on his body ranged from pale yellow to deep purple and as for the cut, where he’d been stabbed by a broken bottle, the scar on his leg was livid and held together by black knotted stitches. That might be easier to account for, falling back on a broken bottle, whilst drunk; it sounded feasible enough. Would it seem reasonable that a perfect stranger had suddenly mistaken him for someone else, though? Then there was why he’d chosen not to press charges; how was he going to get out of that one?

  In the bathroom Owen ran a hot bath and lowered his aching body into the water. As he closed his eyes, he tried to think of an explanation which would satisfy Rowena, but he was spinning around in circles where nothing made any sense.

  Chapter 53

  Rowena’s shock at seeing his injuries reduced her to fussing over him like a mother hen. She accepted his story about a fight breaking out in the club without question and, after making some disparaging remarks about the state some people got into when drunk, focused on the problem of how he was going to look in two weeks time. Nevertheless, Owen could see that she thought he was mad not to press charges in spite of the unwanted publicity.

  “Most of the bruises should have faded by then, but those lacerations will take a time to heal. Luckily the worst of them will be hidden by your suit so our wedding photos should be OK.” She stroked his cheek. “I can see I’ll have to make sure you don’t get into more trouble before our big day. Why don’t you come over to my place and let me spoil you until then?”

  Tempting as her offer was, he shook his head. “Too much to do here, sweetheart; besides, remember it’s unlucky to spend the night together before the wedding so I’d have to come back here at some point. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  “In that case, I promise to pop over as often as possible. At least things have settled down at work and I should be able to take some time off to oversee the final arrangements.”

  “There you are then; you’ll have enough to do.”

  When Rowena eventually left him alone, he took a couple of painkillers and went to bed. Putting on a brave face had left him feeling grim. He closed his eyes but his aching body wouldn’t let him sleep. He kept seeing Sarah Lawson’s face. Finally, he drifted off to sleep but dreamed he’d married Sarah and that he couldn’t find Rowena to tell her it had all been a mistake. The distant sound of the telephone ringing woke him. He’d unplugged the bedroom extension but could hear the answer phone connecting in the living room. Andy Lawson’s hesitant voice drifted towards him.

  “I’d just like to say sorry, and thanks for not pressing charges. Sarah’s explained and I know I overreacted.” There was a beat. “I, er, well she’s vulnerable and she is my sister. Anyway, thanks.”

  Owen lay back and looked at the ceiling. It was the second time he’d heard Sarah described as vulnerable; Megan had said the same thing. It wasn’t a word he would have used to describe her, devious, manipulative and strong-willed sprang to mind; he wondered if he knew her at all.

  He started to think about the events leading up to Lawson’s attack. At first there hadn’t been the slightest indication that Sarah had wanted to be anything other than a mate, although he now realised that it was naive of him not to have foreseen the problems that could have arisen by him staying over at her flat. Then there was the night of Megan’s party. If only he could remember what had happened. She’d led him to believe they’d made love but for the life of him he had no idea whether that was a fact or invention on her part. However, he was certain that at no time had he ever expressed the intention of them having a relationship based on anything other than friendship and at no time, drunk or sober, had he ever suggested marriage; it was just too ludicrous to even consider. So why had she let her brother believe he’d let her down and why did Lawson and Megan believe that she was vulnerable?

  Two days before the wedding Rowena arrived with his wedding suit. “I thought I’d pick it up for you to save you a journey. I must admit that you look better now, thank God.” She kissed his mouth and for the first time Owen didn’t wince in pain. “Now everything’s in order, all we have to do is sit back and enjoy it.”

  They were in the middle of eating their evening meal when she told him about the phone calls. “I’ve been having a few odd calls lately. I think someone must have mistakenly got hold of my number and when they ring they realise it’s not the person they were expecting, they put the phone down. I’d thought of changing it but it would cause too much hassle at the moment, so many people have my number, especially the wedding planner etc.”

  Owen held his breath; it couldn’t be.

  “I just wish whoever it is would speak and then I could put them right but after I answer the line goes dead. It’s most unnerving.”

  “Perhaps it’s as you said – a wrong number.”

  “That’s what I thought until yesterday.”

  Owen waited, his heart pounding against his ribs.

  “I was in the middle of packing a case for our honeymoon, just putting in things that don’t crease and the like, when the phone went. This time I dist
inctly heard the sound of a cat meowing followed by a woman’s voice before the phone was put down.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Well her voice was a bit muffled but I thought she said ‘down Bibi or Tibby’. I’m not really sure.”

  A vision of a tabby cat called Bibi rubbing itself up against his legs on the night he’d slept over at Sarah’s swam before him. So she was still playing games; his only hope now was that once he was married, all this nonsense would stop.

  Rowena stayed over at his place that night and the following day they drove to their favourite restaurant for lunch. “This is the last time we’ll see each other before tomorrow,” Rowena said getting into the car.

  “Why don’t you let me drive?” Owen suggested.

  “No problem; just rest that leg, you don’t want to open up any of those scars before they heal properly.”

  “But….”

  “But me no buts as my old Granny used to say,” Rowena said, as she smiled at him and drove into the line of traffic.

  Chapter 54

  Owen was awake before the phone rang. Premonitions are all very well and good after the event; people say ‘I knew that was going to happen’ but foresight is a gift not nearly as prevalent as the alternative. Nevertheless, in spite of the sunshine and clear blue sky, even before the telephone began to ring, he knew that the day was going to end in disaster.

  He picked up the phone. It was Rowena. “You’re not going to believe this,” she was talking quickly, running her sentences into one as if she couldn’t wait to spit out the words. “Our wedding’s been cancelled. I rang to confirm that the flowers had arrived. The receptionist said that I’d phoned earlier and told them the wedding was off. I said they must have made a mistake and I’d made no such phone call, but they were adamant. Owen, are you still there?”