Remember Me: The gripping psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist.

by Lynda Renham

  ‘We don’t know what it was,’ Chris sighs.

  I stroke his thigh and say, ‘I think I’d prefer Ben to stay at nursery. If they can’t have him I can find another nursery. I think there is one …’

  He puts his hand over mine.

  ‘Are you serious? You were all for Sharni having him.’

  ‘I’m not sure about her,’ I say lamely.

  ‘You were dead keen to have her,’ he reminds me.

  ‘I know, but …’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he says impatiently. ‘This is all because you forgot she gave the vase back? What’s wrong with you these days?’

  I decide not to mention about the diazepam.

  ‘I know, it’s just that and the bedroom thing and …’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘It’s just the other day when we went for coffee she gave the waitress the impression that Ben was her child.’

  His face clouds over.

  ‘I’m sure you just imagined it.’

  ‘Do you think?’

  ‘You’re always reading stuff into things.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  I can’t mention her smile not reaching her eyes. He’ll think I’ve totally lost the plot.

  ‘This is ridiculous. We’ve got a chance to save some money and you’re going to throw it all away because the woman admires you. I thought you’d be flattered. She looks up to you. I can’t believe she copied the bedroom. It’s not possible. She’s taken those great photos and doesn’t want anything in return. Honestly Clare, it’s crazy what you’re saying. She’s a well-known photographer. She’s got a big feature in Vogue this month, did she tell you that?’

  I shake my head.

  ‘Tom told me. You should buy it.’

  ‘Are you happy for her to have Ben then?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course, I think they’re a nice couple. You shouldn’t listen to Helen, what does she know? She can’t keep a bloke for five minutes.’

  ‘Well …’ I hesitate.

  I think of the chiffon dress in the wardrobe and sigh. It feels like Sharni has stolen that from me too. Is Helen right, will she steal my husband next?

  ‘So, what do you want for our anniversary, aside from my body?’ he says, putting his arms back around me.

  I’d completely forgotten about our anniversary. I can’t believe we’ve been married for seven years. It seems like only yesterday that Chris had chatted me up at Fenella’s New Year Eve’s party. I wonder what happened to Fenella? I suppose I could look her up on Facebook. Everyone seems to be on Facebook, even Sharni.

  ‘A nice meal with you,’ I say. ‘We could get Kathryn to babysit.’

  ‘Or ask Sharni. She’d probably do it for nothing.’

  ‘We can’t just use her Chris.’

  His hand moves up my thigh and I shudder.

  ‘Okay, but I can use you, can’t I?’

  I open my legs willingly and pull him closer.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chris scrunched up the paper into a ball before aiming it at the bin across the room. The door to his office swung open as he did so and the ball hit Sharni on her chest as she entered.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Was that a reject?’

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  He was taken aback to see Sharni. He hoped Clare was aware of the visit. He didn’t want another scene with Clare over it.

  ‘I hope it’s okay for me to call in. The girl at reception said it was your lunch break,’ she said shyly.

  Chris noticed her hair was cut in a style similar to Clare’s. It didn’t somehow suit Sharni.

  ‘Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?’

  ‘Yes fine. I’ve just been to get some copies of Vogue.’

  ‘How did you know where I worked?’ he asked casually.

  ‘Tom told me.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked, handing him a copy of the magazine.

  ‘Clare would like to see a copy,’ he said. He didn’t know why he felt the need to mention Clare. He just wanted to remind Sharni that he was married for some reason. Clare’s jealousy had made him paranoid too.

  ‘She said it was your anniversary in three weeks. Seven years together.’

  He didn’t know whether to invite her to sit down or not.

  ‘Yeah, a whole seven years. I would have got less for murder,’ he smiled and then wondered if it sounded like a complaint.

  ‘You know what they say about seven years,’ she said tapping him on the arm.

  ‘Oh right,’ he said, realising what she meant.

  ‘That’s why I popped in to see you. I thought it would be nice to take some portraits of you with Ben, as a gift for Clare. Father and child photos are really popular these days; I think Clare would love it. I thought we could set a time when you are free and I’ve got Ben.’

  ‘Do you think so? That sounds great, thanks Sharni.’

  ‘Give me a text tomorrow when I’ve got my diary in front of me and we’ll fix a time,’ she said as she handed him her business card.

  Toni tapped lightly on the door.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but we have a meeting in three minutes.’

  ‘I’m just off,’ Sharni said as she moved towards the door.

  ‘I thought she’d be more glamorous. I suppose because she takes fashion photos, you just expect that,’ Toni said as she watched her walk down the corridor.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Chris, trying to sound disinterested. He really didn’t want Sharni dropping into the office like that again. He’d never be able to make Clare understand there was nothing in it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Helen wrapped a woollen scarf around her neck and pulled on a pair of matching gloves. Her eyes stung from the sharp wind.

  ‘Christ, can it get any colder?’ she grumbled.

  ‘Hopefully we’ll have a white Christmas,’ Julia said, looking at the leaden sky.

  ‘Who needs a bloody white Christmas?’ moaned Helen as she rummaged in her bag for a packet of cigarettes.

  ‘You’re such a bah-humbug,’ smiled Julia

  ‘You music teachers are all the same,’ laughed Helen. ‘Full of good cheer and bloody awful carols.’

  Julia grinned.

  ‘I’ll be glad when the term ends,’ said Helen, blowing smoke from the corner of her mouth.

  ‘I think that woman is waving at you,’ said Julia, pointing across the road.

  ‘Oh Christ, she’s weird,’ Helen groaned.

  ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Clare’s neighbour. She looks after Clare’s kid when she’s teaching.’

  ‘She’s coming over.’

  Helen stubbed out her cigarette.

  ‘I’m glad I caught you,’ said Sharni.

  Helen struggled not to stare at Sharni’s haircut. It was just too weird. Why would anyone copy someone else’s hairstyle? She really doesn’t understand why Clare puts up with it. She’d certainly never leave any kid of hers with this woman.

  Julia pointed to a bus.

  ‘That’s mine,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow Helen.’

  ‘Nice to have met you,’ she smiled at Sharni before running for the bus.

  ‘Well, it was nice seeing you,’ said Helen, ‘But I’ve got to hurry for a bus too.’

  Sharni looked disappointed. ‘I was hoping we could have a coffee,’ she said.

  Helen raised her eyebrows. She had no intention of having a coffee with Sharni.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about Clare.’

  ‘What about Clare?’ Helen said brusquely.

  ‘It’s her and Chris’s anniversary soon. It’s seven years and …’

  ‘So, you’re going to get them both a medal?’ Helen said scathingly.

  Helen watched Sharni’s lips tighten.

  ‘No, actually I was going to arrange a little dinner party for them, at a nice restaurant in London. I thought I could ask some of her other closest friends to come as a surprise for her.’

&
nbsp; ‘You want to arrange a dinner party for their anniversary?’

  Helen sighed as her bus drove past. Shit, the next one isn’t for another twenty minutes.

  ‘Clare’s not close friends with anyone, except me,’ Helen said bluntly. ‘I don’t think she and Chris would appreciate a dinner party.’

  ‘Oh Chris knows,’ Sharni said gleefully.

  Helen tried not to show her surprise. What was wrong with Chris? Too afraid of upsetting their great friends Tom and Sharni, she thought. Helen pulled her cigarettes from her bag.

  ‘Couldn’t we just discuss it over coffee?’ asked Sharni.

  ‘I’m not a great dinner party guest to be frank and I’m even worse at keeping secrets. It’s probably best not to involve me.’

  She lit her cigarette and threw her bag over her shoulder. A flash of anger again passed over Sharni’s face.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ she said.

  ‘I’d better shoot,’ said Helen. ‘Thanks for thinking of me.’

  Without giving Sharni a chance to reply Helen turned and walked away.

  It was the last thing she wanted to talk about but she knew she couldn’t put it off forever. There were no flowers today and the tissue box was Tesco’s Value. It stupidly made her feel cheap. The tissues were thin. She grabbed two and dabbed at her watery eyes.

  ‘I panicked,’ she said.

  She heard Leah’s encouraging tone but all she could see was the bridge in the glare of her headlights. It had been raining heavily ever since she’d left her mother’s. The rain was hammering on the windscreen. The wipers had made her dizzy with their incessant whirring. They seemed to make no difference. All she could see was a mist of rain. She should have left earlier. Why hadn’t she? Any responsible person would have. She didn’t think she’d ever feel good about herself again, unless …

  She clung to the thought. It gave her hope. It was surely possible. She would be alone though, with no one to support her.

  ‘What’s going through your mind?’ Leah asked.

  You don’t want to know, she thought.

  ‘Do you remember that moment?’

  She nodded.

  ‘I panicked,’ she said flatly. ‘And the car skidded.’

  Leah didn’t say anything.

  ‘I was stupid,’ she said, pulling out several tissues. Her hand knocked over the glass of water and the glass shattered on the floor. The sound made her jump and her neck jolted back.

  ‘Oh God,’ she sobbed. Like her recurring nightmare she felt the car go over the bridge again.

  ‘I’ll get a cloth,’ said Leah.

  Shards of glass lay scattered on the floor. Like the broken pieces of my life, she thought.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chris pulls on his trainers and then rummages in the cupboard for his badminton racquet. I sigh as I put down the paper. I feel resentful. Sundays used to be our family day. We would read the Sunday papers in bed with Ben sleeping between us. Ever since Sharni and Tom moved in our weekends have changed. I push my feet into my slippers and shuffle to the kitchen to make another coffee.

  ‘What are you going to do this morning?’ Chris asks.

  He feels guilty. I can tell by his face. He wants me to make things easy for him.

  ‘I’ll finish the papers,’ I say. ‘Then I might go to Oxford Street and do some Christmas shopping. Maybe I’ll phone Helen, see what’s she doing.’

  He laughs, ‘You’ll be lucky if she’s up.’

  ‘Then I’ll go on my own.’

  ‘I’m sure Sharni would go with you.’

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes.

  ‘I’m sure she’s got loads of work to do,’ I say.

  He glances at the Vogue magazine on the table.

  ‘They’re brilliant photos aren’t they?’

  I nod. The truth is I haven’t looked at the magazine since Sharni dropped it in. I’m still annoyed with Sharni for making me feel stupid about the vase. I am sure she was purposely trying to make me doubt myself, but I don’t know why. I am sure my memory isn’t that bad, that I would forget her giving the vase back, especially as Chris and I went on about it so much.

  ‘When are you seeing Dr Rawlins?’ Chris asks, zipping up his holdall.

  ‘Tomorrow, he’s been on holiday for a week.’

  ‘Good, tell him about your memory lapses.’

  I want to argue that I don’t have memory lapses but I bite my tongue. I sigh and dunk a digestive in my coffee.

  ‘What time will you be back?’

  He shrugs.

  ‘About one, we usually go for a pint after.’

  I pick up Ben and nuzzle him to my chest.

  ‘Let’s get ready, shall we?’ I say kissing the top of his head.

  The front door slams and I watch from the window as Chris climbs into Tom’s Audi. I notice Sharni’s car isn’t there and wonder where she has gone. I dress Ben and throw on some warm clothes. Ten minutes later we’re both kitted out in scarves and hats to face the cold weather.

  I stop at the end of Sharni’s driveway. Ben giggles and kicks off his blanket. I throw it back on and walk purposefully around to Sharni’s back door. The kitchen blind is down. I tap on the door and wait. After a few minutes I hesitantly turn the handle. The door is locked. I feel my heart thump in my chest as I fumble under the old paint tin. I lift it carefully and see the key. I take it and with trembling hands turn it in the lock. The door creaks open and I nervously step inside.

  Breakfast dishes are stacked in the sink and a cold cup of coffee sits on the worktop. I can smell Sharni’s perfume in the air. It isn’t Grapefruit. If she discovers I was here I’ll say that I couldn’t find my keys and that Ben was getting cold and that I felt sure that she and Tom wouldn’t mind if Ben and I stayed warm. I step into the living room. Everything is neat and tidy. I peer out of the window and check that her car isn’t there. I’m not sure what I’m looking for or why I felt the need to come in.

  ‘Let’s check out that bedroom,’ I whisper to Ben.

  I tiptoe stealthily up the stairs and past the small bedroom that is packed with boxes, and make my way to the master bedroom. I have to fight back a gasp as I open the door. On closer inspection I realise that the bed is different to ours but the duvet cover looks identical to mine. Even the cushions are arranged like ours. I place Ben on the floor and go to the bedside cabinet where her copy of The Lovely Bones sits. Next to it is a jar of night cream. I don’t recognise the brand and it isn’t one I use. It looks expensive. I put my hand on the drawer handle and hesitate. If Chris ever found out he’d go mental. I can almost hear his reprimand. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing going through their stuff? Tom’s a bloody lawyer. There may have been confidential papers there.’

  I remove my hand from the drawer and study the items on the dresser. There’s a new bottle of Jo Malone’s Grapefruit, still in its box. Why did Sharni say she had an old bottle? The Lovely Bones looks barely touched. I look again at the drawer, hesitate, and make myself leave the bedroom.

  The door to the second bedroom is open. It’s Sharni’s work room. Photos are scattered over her desk with a laptop and printer to one side. Back copies of Vogue are piled on a bookcase. I glance through the window to check Sharni hasn’t come back and then put Ben on the floor. Photos of Ben are lined up on the window sill. They are not the ones Sharni gave us. I study them intently. They seem to have been taken in Sharni’s back garden. A narrow wardrobe stands opposite the desk and I open it gingerly and reel back in shock at the pile of baby clothes on the shelves. Below on another shelf are baby toys. My breath catches in my throat when I see a plain blue box marked Nathan. I’m about to open it but am stopped by the sound of a car on the gravel driveway. I close the wardrobe door and grab Ben. I hurry down the stairs, my heart banging against my chest. I fly out of the back door just as I hear the key turn in the lock. I quickly lock the door, shove the key under the paint tin and drop Ben into the stroller. A loud knock on the window m
akes me jump out of my skin. I turn to see Sharni smiling from the other side of the window and before I can think she has opened the door. Did she see me put the key back? I can hear my heart beating in my ears.

  ‘Hi,’ she says.

  My mouth is so dry that I can barely speak.

  ‘Hi,’ I say breathlessly.

  ‘I’ve just got back,’ she says, looking at me intently.

  She wants to know what I’m doing in her back garden. My original excuse has fled from my mind.

  ‘Yes, I saw your car wasn’t there. I just wondered if you had a hard brush. I almost slipped on the leaves on our path,’ I say, but it sounds so bloody feeble. She surely doesn’t believe me.

  ‘There’s one in the shed,’ she says.

  She opens the door and steps outside. She’s still wearing her coat and I can smell her perfume. I wait while she gets the broom from the shed.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking it from her. ‘I’d better get on.’

  ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  ‘No, thanks, I’m meeting Helen in a bit,’ I lie.

  ‘Okay. I’ll see Ben on Tuesday then?’

  I nod. I feel my body trembling as I walk down the path. I wonder what Chris will say when I tell him about the baby clothes. I can’t tell him I went into their house when they were out. I suddenly feel very alone. I don’t feel anyone believes me, even Chris thinks I am losing it. I’ll talk to Helen, but then I don’t really know Helen that well. How did I get to be so isolated? Maybe I can say what I am feeling to Dr Rawlins but then he may think it’s caused by the diazepam and that I’m just being delusional. Maybe I am.

  I scroll into the contacts on my phone and call Helen.

  ‘Do you fancy shopping in Oxford Street?’ I ask.

  *

  ‘There’s a table,’ Helen says. We push our way to the one free table and I flop down gratefully.

  ‘You’d think they were giving it away. Bloody Christmas,’ says Helen, throwing her bags on to a spare chair. I clear the dirty coffee mugs and wipe over the table with a tissue. The place is packed with hungry Christmas shoppers.