But then an almighty thunderous sound shattered the silence, an alarm blaring overhead and seemingly echoing off the walls and water in this confined space. Megan’s hands rushed to her ears, smothering them and desperately trying to block out the painful sound.
And as she was about to open her eyes and discover the source of the sound, her mind kicked into gear, and she realised exactly what she was hearing, and the breath caught in her throat. The unmistakeable clamour of a smoke alarm. Somewhere very near was on fire, and the panic chilled her to the core.
She wanted to scream out, to leap from the warm water, and run to safety, but as had happened three months ago, she remained frozen to the spot, her breathing now more laboured, and the rising panic in her throat overwhelming.
Had she left her phone charger on again? She’d established a strict routine when charging her phone since that night, and she was certain she had abided by the steps, but had she left something else plugged in that had subsequently shorted?
The alarm continued to clamour and tear at the grip over her ears, and she felt the warm kiss of tears on her cheeks as she bent her head as low as possible, and prayed to a God she no longer believed in to take away the pain.
And after what felt like eternity, the alarm stopped.
Was it over? Had Rob come for her?
But as she very carefully opened her eyes, and focused on the darkness surrounding her, she saw that she was still sat in the bath, albeit the water now cooler, but still breathing, and still very much alone.
Was she dreaming? Had she been dreaming? Was any of this real?
Lowering both hands into the bath, she brought them up in a rush splashing the handfuls of water over her face, tasting the saltiness of the tears that had reached her lips.
But she didn’t wake up. Still she remained in the bathtub, the tea lights flickering, and the wine bottle covered in a thin glaze of condensation.
She jumped at a thundering banging on her front door.
‘Miss Hopkirk?’ a loud voice boomed. ‘It’s Mr Walcott from next door. Are you home?’
It would take too long to empty the water, dress and get to the door to find out what the old curmudgeon wanted this time.
‘Miss Hopkirk?’ he called out again.
She willed herself not to reply, hoping that if he thought she wasn’t home he would go away.
‘Miss Hopkirk?’
‘Yes,’ she shouted back towards the front door through gritted teeth. ‘I’m in the bath. Can you come back later?’
‘I just wanted to apologise about the alarm going off. I wanted to let you know it’s nothing to worry about. My granddaughter burned some toast and the smoke alarm in the kitchen is a bit sensitive. Nothing to worry about, and we’ve opened all the kitchen windows. There shouldn’t be any further disturbances tonight.’
Her eyes fell back to the blade. ‘Okay. Thank you for letting me know.’
She waited to hear whether he would say anything else, but after sixty seconds she felt confident that he’d moved away from her door. She willed herself to pick up the blade, but her hands wouldn’t move, and as she began to shiver in the cooling water, she knew the moment had passed. She’d failed again, and her fresh tears splashed into the bath.
NINE
The driver in the taxi cab looked bored and frustrated as he played some game on his phone, the car’s interior light burning brightly, even though the sun had yet to set. As Jake pulled onto his driveway, he gave the driver a cursory glance, as he tried to remember whether they’d been due to go somewhere tonight.
Was today a special day? An anniversary? It certainly wasn’t Gabby’s birthday. She wouldn’t turn seven for another month, as she’d reminded him every day for the last fortnight. Gabby would probably be in bed by now, but that wouldn’t stop him going in and kissing her good night.
As he climbed out of the dusty Hyundai, hoisting the cardboard box of his personal effects from the passenger seat, he was tempted to check the taxi driver was actually waiting for them and not one of the neighbours. But he didn’t have the chance as the front door was suddenly pulled open, and Isabella stepped into the gap.
‘It’s about bloody time, Jacob!’ she huffed.
He hated how she always used his full name, and she knew it irritated him. Everyone else knew him as Jake, but Isabella continued to introduce him to people as Jacob, like the extra syllable somehow raised him up a class level.
He closed the car door and considered his wife of eleven years for a moment. Dressed in an effortless silver satin dress that ended just above her ankles, she looked good. She’d always been beautiful and shamefully it had been her thin frame and pretty face that had first attracted him to her. But tonight she had clearly made an effort. Her golden mane, which hung to her shoulders looked polished to within an inch of its life, and the little makeup she’d chosen to don highlighted her high cheekbones, and her emerald eyes shimmered beneath the dark eye liner. Isabella could roll out of bed and still score a nine, but tonight she’d surpassed that.
‘You look great,’ he admitted, as he lugged the box towards the door, and as much as it pained him to say it, he meant every word.
He’d first spotted her at the gym, she’d just been finishing a yoga class, and although she’d been padding the sweat from her forehead, she’d easily stood out from the crowd. Jake could still picture that Lycra top and bottoms, which had deliberately revealed her flat stomach. But she’d noticed him too, pummelling the rowing machine, as he’d tried to sculpt his arms. Her eyes had lingered on him just long enough to show she was interested, and then she’d headed off to shower and dress. He’d been surprised but pleased to find her waiting in the gym’s reception area when he’d emerged from the changing rooms.
She’d told him she was supposed to be meeting friends for a drink in town and wanted him to be her excuse not to go.
He should have seen the sign that deception came easily to her, but he’d been besotted, and so they’d headed for coffee and then back to his place. He hadn’t expected to find her still in his bed when he’d woken the following morning, but she had been and she’d looked so good that they’d made love again before he’d shirked off to work.
And so as the days and weeks had passed, they’d grown closer and he’d fallen hard for her. It was weeks until she introduced him to her parents, and as they’d pulled up at the large detached estate in the heart of Hampshire’s New Forest, he hadn’t been surprised why. To say she had come from money would be an understatement. The large property had twelve bedrooms, all with en suite facilities, and large portraits of the heads of the family donned the walls in the enormous hallway.
On looks alone, he’d been punching above his weight, but meeting her family had confirmed that he wasn’t just in the wrong league, he was in the wrong sport; like turning up to a golf tournament in boxing gloves and shorts.
But despite this, she’d told him she loved him and even when her family had threatened to cut her off, she’d married him anyway.
It hadn’t been lost on him that the wall of ice she’d put between them in the last few months had come shortly after her parents had got back in touch.
She folded her arms, stepped aside and allowed him to enter. ‘What’s in the box?’
‘Just a few bits and pieces from work. Where’s Gabby?’
‘She’s in bed. Don’t disturb her. She’s had a busy day at school and needs a good night’s sleep.’
Isabella had worn a similar dress on their second date. He could still remember how it had accentuated the curvature of her pert breasts as this one was doing now.
‘Are you going anywhere nice tonight,’ he asked, as she bent over to pick up her clutch bag. Even now, despite all the arguments and insults, he still couldn’t resist her. Not that she was giving any sign that she wanted him to make a pass.
‘I told you,’ she tutted. ‘I’m going out with Michelle and Stephanie.’
He couldn’t remember her mentionin
g any such plans, and he had no idea who Michelle and Stephanie were; certain he’d never met them.
‘Are you eating out then?’
She didn’t respond as she applied a fresh lacquer of lipstick. ‘I won’t be back until late. Don’t wait up.’
And with that she skipped out through the door, slamming it behind her.
He moved to the kitchen window and watched her hurry down the driveway, the mobile phone already pressed to her ear. Jake was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. Nobody went to that much effort for a meal with friends.
It didn’t bother him that she was probably going off to screw some other sap; she’d made her feelings towards him perfectly clear. What angered him was her decision to lie about it. There was no need any more. They’d discussed divorce, and they were only still living under the same roof for Gabby’s sake. He wanted to explain to Gabby what was happening, but Isabella insisted it had to be something they did together, yet she was always going out as he was coming home, and no moment ever seemed to be right.
He watched the taxi pull away, half-tempted to follow, and maybe if Gabby hadn’t been up in bed, he would have actually done it, just to see the look on Isabella’s face when he caught her red-handed. But that satisfaction would have to wait for another occasion.
Opening the fridge, he wasn’t surprised to see bare shelves. Isabella had never been much of a housekeeper. When Gabby had arrived, Isabella had told him she was too busy to shop and clean, but Gabby was now in school from nine to three each day, and it wasn’t like Isabella had a job, yet things still hadn’t improved. Not that she ever seemed to eat much food anyway. Her tiny frame had little to do with exercise and a lot to do with starving herself.
Pulling the bottle of lager from the fridge door, he cracked off the lid and savoured the cold liquid in his mouth. He didn’t usually drink midweek, preferring to keep his body free of toxins when working a case, but after the day he’d had, he’d earned a little R&R. And it wasn’t like he would be heading into work in the morning.
Heading upstairs, he changed out of his shirt and trousers and slipped on jeans and a t-shirt. But as he scooped up his shirt, he saw the splatters of Annie’s blood, and wondered how his colleague was doing right now. He should have stopped by the hospital to see her, despite Tosh’s warning not to. In that moment, he made a vow that he would take Annie some flowers in the morning and check on her.
He was about to head back downstairs when he heard a voice whispering for him. Opening Gabby’s door, he couldn’t help but smile as he saw her sat up in bed and waving at him.
‘You’re supposed to be asleep,’ he said with no anger in his tone.
‘I wanted to see you before I went to sleep.’
His heart filled with love, and he moved across and leaned down to hug her.
‘I’m not tired,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘Can I stay up and watch some television with you? Please, Daddy?’
He studied her face, but there wasn’t a trace of malice. On any other night he would have let her down gently and reminded her she had school in the morning. But with Isabella out again and only Gabby’s pet goldfish for company, he didn’t want to spend the night alone.
‘Okay,’ he relented, but just for a few minutes.
Gabby bounced with excitement, punching the air as she clambered out of bed and was in the living room with the television on before he’d made it down the stairs.
‘Look, Daddy,’ she said, as he entered the room, holding a takeaway menu, ‘Saints are playing football. Shall we watch this?’
He loved that she wanted to watch the match with him, even though she didn’t really have any interest in football. He lowered his lager to the table beside the sofa and settled in next to her.
‘If you’re ordering takeaway, can we get some chips too?’ she asked, without looking away from the television.
Kissing the top of her head, he knew in that moment he would do anything she asked of him. It was his fatherly-duty, and one he would never refrain from.
TEN
Megan couldn’t remember how she’d got in the car, or even where they were going. The vehicle’s interior looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen it before. She didn’t own a car.
The dashboard was a charcoal-grey colour, and the stereo had a slot for cassettes, yet the windows were electric, so the vehicle couldn’t be that old. And although the stereo wasn’t lit up, she could hear music playing in the background. But what was that song? She knew it, but as she tried to hum along or sing the words, her mind remained blank.
Yet it was so familiar.
Looking straight ahead, Megan could see she was a passenger, which made sense given the fact she couldn’t drive, and so she allowed her head to turn and look at the driver. His face was turned away from her, staring out of his window at the trees which seemed to be passing at quicker and quicker speeds.
She wanted to reach out and touch him, to make him look at her, but it was like her arms were paralysed at her sides. Although she willed them to move, they refused to cooperate.
And the car was moving faster now; so much faster than when she’d come to. The landscape outside his window was a blur as he continued to push the car to its limit.
Although she didn’t like the speed, shuffling uncomfortably in her seat, deep down she seemed to know that what he was doing was right: like there was a reason he should be driving so fast. And as far as she could tell, he seemed calm and relaxed with the speed: he only had one hand on the wheel while the other put a cigarette to his lips, and apart from the song in the background, there was no other discernible noise; even the engine seemed unusually quiet.
But suddenly there was a crash, and a large wooden farm gate splintered as the front wing of the vehicle tore through, like it wasn’t even there. Still no reaction from the driver, but as she looked forward through the windscreen, trying to identify where they were and where they were headed, the sky darkened suddenly. All around them trees hung low, shutting out the semi-bright sky, the branches resembling bony arms and fingers trying to snatch them up.
And suddenly the trees cleared and she could see the night sky, and the horizon and then she knew where he was heading and why he was driving at such a speed.
Pressing her hands against the dashboard, bracing herself for the impact, she had just enough time to take a deep breath before the vehicle shot over the edge of the wooden pontoon, crashing into the large expanse of water that stretched as far as she could see.
And there the vehicle bobbed for just a moment.
They hadn’t died and Megan was filled with relief.
Although he’d driven them into the lake, the air in the car was keeping them afloat.
For now.
But just as she was thinking they would be rescued, the electric motor of her window whirred and the glass lowered. She looked over at the driver, but he was still not facing her as his window dropped in tandem. The murky brine of water flooded in through the opening, and as she desperately tried to flick the switch to raise the glass nearest her arm, she was powerless to stop its decline.
The car tipped forward as the body of water filled the front of the vehicle, and the nose dipped further into the ravine. Ice cold water was now covering her feet and legs, and incredibly she could feel every ounce of it, like a thousand sharp pins scratching at her skin, and it took no time for the water level to rise to her chest.
She was pinned to her seat, unable to release her seat belt, and attempt to escape. Her heart began hammering, as if an animal was trapped inside her ribcage. Her nose was now covered and her last chance for one more breath of fresh air had been stolen. The last thing she saw before the waterline reached her eyes were two bubbles of oxygen racing to the surface, but they too vanished. And as the tiny ice-like pins pricked at the top of her head, she knew it was pointless in struggling anymore. Their fate was now sealed, and the final question to answer would be which of them would inhale the grimy water first.
Her head pounded, her lungs burned and the feeling of helplessness grew stronger. Yet, as she sat there waiting for death to take them, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was getting exactly what she deserved and that drowning in this stranger’s car was her destiny.
Darkness enveloped her, and despite the freezing temperature of the lake, she could no longer feel it. If anything, her whole body felt like it was on fire as each cell strained for a last gasp of oxygen. And as her lungs could take no more, she finally opened her mouth, waiting for the sludge to fill her windpipe.
And that’s when she woke up. Sat bolt upright in bed, her entire body was covered in a cold sweat. It took her several moments, breaths and blinks of her eyes to realise that she wasn’t in a car; wasn’t drowning; and it had all been a horrible nightmare.
Pushing back the thin sheet covering her body, she almost laughed as the flashes of the memory flooded her consciousness. It had felt so real, so intense, yet as she rationalised the poorly cut footage, she struggled to understand how she couldn’t have realised sooner.
And as she once more surveyed the safe confines of the tiny bedroom, her eyes fell on the yellow exercise book on the bedside table.
Dr Patel had said she should write down the details of the fire dream, but he had described it as a Dream Journal. And that had been a dream.
She lay back down on the bed, telling herself it was a waste of time. That the nightmare probably had no relevance to their counselling sessions, and he would want to overlook it. But her mind didn’t want to go back to sleep, and already the memory of the dream was fading.
Sitting up, and resting her back against the headboard, she flicked on the bedside light and opened the book.
Déjà Vu Page 5
