Keep Me Close : An utterly gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist

by Jane Holland

  He gives a reluctant laugh. ‘No, you’re not. Or he would hardly have wanted you back. Calum Morgan despises stupid people.’ Abruptly, he stands up, and I guess the meeting to be at an end. As I head for the door, he calls me back. ‘Look, if Calum gives you any more hassle, and you know what I’m talking about, don’t try to deal with it on your own. Come straight to me. Is that understood?’

  Surprised by this unexpected solicitude, I nod. ‘Thank you.’ Though I can’t believe he’s serious. He and Calum have much in common when it comes to manhandling women, and besides, Mark would never put my welfare over that of a bestselling author.

  He shrugs. ‘Calum tried it on with Cheryl once, and I made him regret it. Can’t have the talent pawing my staff, if you’ll pardon the expression, be they ever so mighty.’ With a laconic smile, my boss nods me towards the door. ‘Now, go do your job.’

  I return to my desk, smiling, and almost miss the jingle of a new text message arriving on my phone.

  It’s from Ruby.

  He’s gone at last. But your mum seemed upset, so I called Logan anyway. He’s with her now. All well here. Rx

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I take Harry along with me to meet Calum for lunch the next day. We meet in a small, family-run bistro not far from our offices, a familiar place that feels like safe enough territory. I half-expect Calum to find it too downmarket for his tastes. But to my amazement, the famous author is at his most charming; he praises the décor and the menu, and even goes on to congratulate me on my meticulous editing of his book, as though we had never clashed over my changes in the first place. He graciously allows the company to pay for lunch, but gives me a gift of a pendant necklace with a gold heart strung on its delicate chain.

  ‘Please, I want you to have to have it,’ Calum says when I try to give the jewellery box back. ‘I picked it out for you specially.’

  I protest, feeling awkward about an author giving me such an expensive gift, but he insists that I accept it.

  Under the circumstances, I don’t see how I can refuse.

  ‘No hard feelings, I trust, Kate?’ Calum indicates that I should put the necklace on in front of him, which I reluctantly do, fiddling with the catch while Harry grins.

  ‘About what?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘My little temper tantrum over your edits, of course.’ Calum rolls his eyes as though mocking himself. ‘It took me a while, but I finally sat down the other day and re-read your notes. When I saw how much sense they made, I realised what a fool I’d made of myself.’ His smile is satisfied as I straighten the gold heart on my chest. ‘There, I knew that pendant would suit you. The editor with the heart of gold.’ He glances at Harry, clearly nettled by another man’s presence at our lunch but determined to be friendly. ‘Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Absolutely, Mr Morgan.’

  I shoot Harry a fulminating look, and then smile at Calum uncertainly. ‘It’s lovely, thank you. I’m not sure I deserve it though. I was just doing my job.’

  ‘I love your modesty too.’ Calum laughs, leaning back in his seat as though to study the effect of the shining gold heart against my white jumper. ‘You’ve shown such care and attention to detail in looking after my book, Kate. That little gift is the least I can do in return.’

  ‘Well, I’m simply glad we’re moving forward with the book again. It’s going to be a big launch. One of our biggest ever. Harry will talk you through the proposals.’

  Our food arrives, and with great relief, I focus on my plate for a few minutes. The gold pendant around my neck feels heavy and conspicuous, like he’s marked me out as his possession. The thought alarms me.

  While we eat, Harry begins to explain what we have planned for the publicity campaign, both before and after publication, but after a few minutes, Calum waves him to silence.

  ‘Send me the rest of those details in an email, would you? I’ll only forget if you start listing endless events over lunch.’ When Harry tries to protest, he gives him an assessing stare. ‘Don’t be offended, but you look and sound about twelve. Are you?’

  Harry’s eyes narrow but he laughs with an effort. ‘Hold on, I’ll have to check my passport.’

  ‘Nice one. I can see I’m going to have to watch you, young man.’ Calum’s eye is caught by a passing woman in a tight-fitting dress. ‘But never mind the jokes. I’m here to speak to the organ grinder, not her monkey.’

  Appalled by his rudeness, I pick up my wine glass and take a few sips to disguise my reaction.

  To my horror, Calum’s foot suddenly bumps me under the table. I’m wearing opaque tights and a knee-length skirt, which has ridden up slightly since I sat down. With a leering smile on his face that tells me he knows exactly what this is doing to my nerves, Calum rubs the side of his leather shoe up and down my calf.

  I’m too shocked to react, frozen in my seat, staring back at the author while my brain scrambles for a plausible next course of action.

  ‘I’m thinking of doing a book about relationships between the sexes next. Maybe for the workplace. What do you think, Kate? Is that a hot topic these days?’ On the word ‘hot’, Calum’s foot rises, shifting under my skirt to brush my thigh. ‘Would you be open to that suggestion?’

  I jump up, scraping my chair back noisily, and see people’s heads turn around us. Even Harry looks surprised. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say breathlessly, dumping my napkin on the table and making a grab for my handbag. ‘If you’ll both excuse me, I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  Calum’s eyebrows rise in surprise, but he doesn’t try to stop me. ‘Take your time,’ he murmurs, his gaze unashamedly studying my figure as I brush past him on my way to the ladies.

  In the quiet of the restroom, I take a moment to steady myself, and then text Mark.

  Calum’s playing footsie with me at lunch. I’m not sure what to do. Should I confront him? Throw my wine in his face?

  I’m not entirely serious about the wine-throwing, but my hand was itching to do precisely that when Calum met my shocked gaze across the table and actually smiled. The man’s a total creep and probably ought to be locked up.

  I wait there for five minutes to get myself under control again. As I’m drying my hands, my phone finally jingles.

  I’m in a meeting. Just sit out of his reach. I’ll talk to him later.

  So much for supporting me, I think grimly.

  When I get back to the table, Harry has gone. I stare at his empty chair and then look accusingly at Calum. ‘What did you say to him?’

  ‘Nothing,’ he says vaguely. ‘Harry had to be somewhere. He said to apologise, and he’d speak to you later.’ His smile flickers. ‘Nice lad, isn’t he? Not quite old enough to shave but that’s publishing these days. Are you sleeping with him?’

  ‘No,’ I exclaim hotly, unsure I even want to sit down and carry on with this appalling lunch. ‘Not that my private life is any of your bloody business.’ I look about for the waiter. ‘I should go too. I’ll arrange for the bill to be paid.’

  ‘Oh, sit down and stop flapping, woman.’ He pushes my chair out with his foot. ‘I won’t touch you again. For God’s sake, anyone would think you were a blushing virgin. So I touched your leg under the table. So what? There was no need to rush off and blab everything to Mark, you little tattle-tale.’

  I fight the impulse to walk out without paying, and sink into the chair opposite him instead, my heart thudding hard.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your knight in shining armour just texted me.’ He holds up his phone, and I see a brief message highlighted on the screen. It’s all in caps. Mark’s trademark bollocking technique. ‘Mark says I’m to behave, or he’ll find me a male editor. I can’t work with a man. Not if I want to stay sane. A few days listening to Mark bleat on about “textual errors” in my book was enough to teach me that.’ With a wan smile, he sticks out a hand. ‘Truce?’

  I’m tempted to tell Calum where he can stick his truce and then leave him with what will u
ndoubtedly be a large bill for our three meals.

  But part of me still wants this assignment. And I know Mark will be furious if I disobey him again.

  I hesitate, looking at his outstretched hand.

  I don’t shake it.

  Instead, with careful deliberation, not bothering to hide what I’m doing, I shift my chair backwards out of reach of his foot.

  ‘All right,’ I say, and take a quick sip of wine to steady my nerves, ‘I’ll play the game, Calum. But this time, it’s by my rules. No more squeezing or grabbing or playing footsie. And no more gifts.’ I wrench off the gold heart pendant and drop it into my bag. ‘Is that clear?’

  Calum takes a deep breath, his gaze moving restlessly about the restaurant. ‘Spoilsport,’ he mutters, and then adds hurriedly, when I start to stand up again, ‘Fine, just sit down. Have it your own way. Your rules.’ He grimaces. ‘So, let’s talk edits.’

  *

  When I get back that evening, the house is in partial darkness. On first moving in with us, Logan swore he would fix that broken security light, but he hasn’t got around to it yet. Not his fault. I know he’s been busy with work, and it’s hardly his area of expertise. But it does mean I feel a little unnerved, walking from the car to the front door in near darkness, a cold wind stirring the bushes and trees. A distant memory tugs at me, of seeing a shadowy figure at the other end of the lawn, and I glance that way instinctively. As I do so, the door is jerked open.

  It’s Ruby, wearing an apron, and with a mixing bowl cradled in her arms. I catch a brief, tantalising whiff of chocolate.

  ‘Thank goodness you’re back,’ Ruby says eagerly, light streaming around her like a full-body halo, the noise of the television on full blast drifting out along with it. ‘You’d better come in quick. Your mum’s beside herself. I didn’t know what to do, so I’ve just been waiting for you to get home.’

  Wearily, I follow her inside and hang up my coat. ‘What’s happened now? And why in God’s name is the telly on so loud?’ I’m having to raise my voice to be heard. ‘Can’t you turn it down?’

  ‘She won’t let me,’ Ruby says darkly, and nods when I look round at her in surprise. ‘She’s been in quite a pickle, I can tell you. Yelling and so on.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Don’t ask me, love. She’s been like this most of the day. Keeps going on and on about men.’

  ‘Men?’

  ‘You may well stare. I don’t know what it’s about. Maybe Adeyemi’s visit yesterday upset her and she’s been thinking about it. Or Logan.’

  I pause in the doorway. ‘Logan? Why would he have upset her?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know for sure if he did. But he was here at lunchtime.’ Ruby bustles off to return the mixing bowl to the kitchen, and returns without her apron, drying her hands on a striped tea towel instead. ‘He ate his sandwiches at the same time she had her soup. At the table there.’ She nods towards the living room; a small pine table has been set up in there with a couple of pine chairs, allowing Mum to eat her meals without having to walk through to the dining room, which faces north and gets quite chilly in the winter months. ‘They had some kind of argument. At least, I heard raised voices, and when I came back into the room, Logan had gone outside, probably for a cigarette, but his chair was knocked over, and your Mum…’

  She pauses, looking at me uncertainly.

  ‘Yes, go on. My Mum… what?’

  ‘She was crying.’

  ‘Oh my God, why?’ I’m horrified.

  ‘I’ve no idea, sorry.’ Ruby pulls a face. ‘Logan never came back. I think he went straight back to work. I asked your mum if she was hurt, but I couldn’t get her to talk to me. Whenever I tried, she started yelling at me to mind my own business, and even swore at me.’

  My eyes widen. ‘My mother swore at you?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think she realised she was doing it.’ Ruby taps the side of her head. ‘It happens sometimes with dementia. They get a bit rude, and a bit shouty. I wouldn’t worry, love. I certainly didn’t let it upset me. I just put the telly on for her and gave her the remote control, like she asked me. Only Celeste turned the sound right up, and it’s been deafening in there ever since. So I decided to make a chocolate cake.’ She grimaces. ‘It’s quieter in the kitchen.’

  Shocked, I hurry through to see my mother.

  The remote control is lying on the floor a short distance from her armchair. Mum is huddled on the sofa, which is unusual, as its deep, soft cushions mean she finds it hard to get up again. Her face is pushed into the upholstery, and she’s clamped both hands over her ears, covering her head.

  Not surprising, given the decibel level.

  ‘Mum? Are you okay?’

  I grab up the remote and turn off the blaring television. The abrupt silence feels almost as disturbing as the noise.

  ‘It’s Kate, Mum. You’re safe now. The telly’s off.’ When she doesn’t move, still hunched over and shaking, I sit beside her on the sofa. I touch her shoulder and she flinches away, giving an odd groan under her breath. ‘Hey, what on earth’s the matter?’

  She looks up then, and I see she has indeed been crying. Her heavily bagged eyes are red-rimmed, damp with tears.

  ‘It hurts,’ she whispers, and pulls down the shoulder of her dress to reveal a round, red-raw patch on her shoulder, a few inches down.

  For a moment, I can’t breathe, I’m so stunned.

  ‘What the hell…?’ I call Ruby into the room, and we both stare at the rough red mark, sunk into her skin like a tiny brand. ‘What is it, do you think? How did it happen?’

  Ruby shakes her head, looking equally horrified. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she whispers, and then touches my mother’s arm very gently. ‘How did you get that, love? Do you remember?’

  ‘No, no,’ Mum says, pulling away and closing her eyes. She drags up her dress to hide the mark. ‘I… I don’t know. I don’t remember. Can’t remember!’

  I look round at Ruby. ‘You said Logan was here with her? At lunchtime.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And they had a row.’

  ‘Well, I couldn’t say for sure. I wasn’t listening.’ Ruby chews on her lip. ‘But that’s what it sounded like to me, yes.’ Her eyes widen. ‘You think he did this to her?’

  ‘Well, it didn’t get there on its own, did it? You said she was ranting about men afterwards, didn’t you?’ I close my eyes, barely able to cope with the dark thoughts rushing through my mind. That any man could have done this to a woman was bad enough, but to a woman of her age and in her condition? I can’t believe it of Logan, but at the same time, maybe I can. There’s a kind of intensity about him at times that frightens me. ‘Oh God, this is awful. Get the phone, would you? I’d better call the police.’

  ‘Not the police.’ Mum cries, looking round at me with huge eyes brimming with tears.

  I suck in a long breath, considering. ‘The doctor, then. Dr Forster will need to see this. She’ll know what to do for the best.’

  ‘No, please, don’t call anyone. You understand?’ Mum seems terrified. ‘I don’t want them to take me away.’

  ‘Nobody’s going to take you away.’

  ‘Please!’ Her hands grip my arm with surprising strength. ‘I won’t go, you hear me? I won’t be taken away. You mustn’t let them come here. Promise me you won’t call anyone.’

  ‘Mum—’

  ‘Promise me, Kate, promise me!’ Tears flow down her cheeks. Her voice is ragged. ‘Say it!’

  I can see Mum’s likely to make herself sick if I don’t give in. And it’s certainly true that after Dr Forster’s last visit and her dire warnings about neglect, this is going to look very bad for us.

  The last thing I want is to lose my mother to a hospital or residential home. I swore that I would look after her for as long as I possibly could, and we haven’t reached the end of the line yet.

  ‘Very well, I promise.’ I shake my head, torn between the need to report this to the authorities and my
wish to calm her down. ‘I won’t call anyone if it makes you unhappy. But Logan’s not coming back here. Not after what he did to you.’

  ‘Logan,’ she repeats, and shivers. ‘I don’t like Logan.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ I say grimly.

  I ask Ruby to fetch the first aid kit, and then set to work, tenderly cleaning and dressing the tiny circular wound on my mother’s shoulder, a wound that looks for all the world like a cigarette burn.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I’m waiting for Logan when he gets home an hour and a half later. I hear his car on the gravel and step outside, pulling the door shut behind me.

  He climbs out of the car, a lit cigarette in hand, looking every bit as exhausted as I feel. But as soon as he sees me on the doorstep, his demeanour changes. ‘Kate?’ He locks his car, tosses his cigarette away into the shrubbery and comes towards me, smiling. ‘I’m sorry I’m so late. There’s been some trouble at work, and—’

  Logan stops, noticing my stillness and silence. His tone changes. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

  There’s a faint light coming from the living room window to my right. By its glow, I study his face, wondering if the man I’ve been gradually falling in love with could be guilty of the most appalling cruelty, attacking a vulnerable woman in her own home…

  ‘You came home at lunchtime today,’ I say softly, not wanting Ruby to overhear us. She’s still in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to her cake, but I know she’s curious about how my mother got that mark on her throat. ‘You ate lunch with my mother.’

  ‘That’s right. I thought she might be lonely.’

  ‘And then you argued with her.’

  His brows draw together. ‘I wouldn’t exactly categorise it as an argument. She had an odd turn, that’s all. Nothing to get excited about.’

  ‘An odd turn,’ I repeat, and clench my hands into fists, itching to slap his face.

  He peers down into my face, still frowning. ‘You look upset. Shall we go inside and talk about this?’