In Her Shadow

by Mark Edwards

  Before heading there, Jessica read Amber’s official bio. She was originally from Swansea and had set up her own business in 2013 after spending several years as Gavin Lawson’s assistant. She was known for her edgy fashion work and portraits of women. On her site she described herself as ‘a sex-positive feminist whose mission is to capture the natural strength and complexity of women, free from the male gaze’. There was a link to an interview in which she talked about creating a comfortable, empowering environment for the models and subjects she worked with.

  There were numerous self-portraits among the photos but the woman who featured in most of her pictures was Nina. Jessica had encountered photos of Nina in magazines and on the occasional poster. She knew how photogenic she was. But in Amber’s photos, which tended to feature in arty style magazines or just on Amber’s Instagram feed, Nina looked like a warrior: fierce and wise and powerful.

  The studio was on a cul-de-sac near Silicon Roundabout, close to where she’d first met Will. It was in a converted warehouse with a flat roof. Jessica found the front door open and went inside.

  Amber was sitting at a desk by the far wall, in front of an enormous monitor on which she appeared to be editing a photo of a naked woman with red hair. It was a self-portrait, Jessica realised.

  Amber looked up from the screen, startled. ‘Jessica?’

  ‘I was hoping to have a word with you.’

  Amber looked confused, but nodded towards a spare chair and said, ‘Sure. Is everything all right?’

  Jessica didn’t sit. She didn’t know how safe she was here.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Amber asked.

  Jessica rested one hand on the back of the chair Amber had offered. The other hand hovered over her phone, which sat just inside her shoulder bag. She had pressed record before coming into the studio. She might have brought the knife with her too if the police hadn’t taken it away.

  ‘You went to see Isabel the day before she died,’ Jessica said.

  Amber sat up a little straighter. ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Someone told me.’

  A frown. ‘And you’re coming to ask me about it now, four years on?’

  ‘Nearly five years.’

  ‘Um, okay . . . Will you please sit down? You’re making me nervous.’ Amber attempted a laugh but it came out strangled. When she realised Jessica wasn’t going to move she said, ‘Yeah, I went to talk to her about Nina. This was when I was still Gavin’s assistant. You know, Gavin Lawson?’ She pulled a face when she said his name, like she’d smelled something foul.

  Now Jessica was confused. ‘Why did you need to talk to Izzy about Nina?’

  Amber took a deep breath. ‘It’s a long story. I’m going to get myself a glass of water. Do you want one?’

  She went over to a water cooler and filled two plastic cups before returning to her seat.

  ‘Okay,’ she said.

  Halfway through the story, Jessica decided to take that seat after all. Her legs had gone weak, and her insides churned with a mixture of anger and hatred and despair. She had never met Gavin, but she could see the scene at his studio playing out, could imagine the distress and fear Nina must have experienced. There had been a lot of stories in the press recently in which a whole swathe of sexual predators – actors and movie producers and musicians – had been exposed for similar behaviour. Like nearly every woman she knew, Jessica had her own ‘me too’ stories: unwanted, unwelcome advances, lewd suggestions, men who thought women existed for them to touch and openly lust over. So-called ‘bad dates’ when the man had pushed and pressured her, failing or refusing to read the signals she was giving. When she’d worked for the PR agency she’d had a boss who was always asking his female employees for a hug, hugs that lasted an uncomfortable length of time. But that didn’t make this story any less horrific.

  ‘What do you think would have happened?’ she asked. ‘If you hadn’t come in?’

  ‘I don’t know. His usual method was to keep pressing, over and over, cajoling until the woman either ran away or gave in. And a lot of them did what he wanted. They were frightened. Pressured. He made it clear their careers would be damaged if they said no. Not only that but he fed them this bullshit that fashion was supposed to be wild and dangerous, that if you didn’t go along with it, if you didn’t join in, you were in the wrong game. Worse than that, you weren’t fun. You were uncool. Frigid.’ Jessica could see the muscles in Amber’s jaw clenching and unclenching. ‘He’s been getting away with it for years.’

  ‘So what happened? After you spoke to Izzy?’

  Amber shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Izzy said she was going to talk to Nina and try to persuade her to go to the police. I was waiting to hear from her – and then . . . the next I heard, Izzy was dead. I didn’t see Nina again for a couple of months – until after I quit my job with Gavin and set up on my own – but she told me Izzy hadn’t said anything to her. Nina had started modelling by that point. She actually got taken on by the agency Gavin introduced her to, though she told them she wouldn’t work with him again.’

  ‘And they were okay with that?’

  ‘Yeah. They know what he’s like. There are quite a few models who won’t work with him. That doesn’t stop the agency from sending others to him, though.’

  ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Yeah. Anyway, that’s when Nina sort of became my special project. We helped each other become successful.’

  Jessica tried to take it all in. She got up again, pacing in front of the desk while Amber watched her, trying to process it all.

  Then suddenly Jessica stopped pacing and stared at Amber.

  ‘Didn’t you think it was weird that Izzy died the day after you spoke to her?’

  Amber looked exhausted. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it seems like too much of a coincidence, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Why? It said in the paper that she’d been drinking and taking drugs. They had a photo of her balcony in the paper and . . . well, I’ve been to the house since, of course, seen it with my own eyes.’ She paused, and Jessica assumed Amber was remembering that horrible moment when Olivia had appeared on the balcony. ‘But even back then I could see how it must have happened. Izzy getting drunk and falling.’

  Listening to Amber’s story, Jessica had almost forgotten she’d come here suspecting Amber of pushing Izzy to her death.

  ‘Did you tell Gavin that Izzy was going to talk to Nina about exposing him?’

  ‘No. Of course not.’

  ‘But there has to be a connection. If she was going to talk to Nina, persuade her to tell the police, and he found out . . . he’d try to stop her, wouldn’t he?’

  Amber gawped at her. ‘You think Gavin pushed her?’

  But Jessica was already on her way to the exit.

  Chapter 48

  ‘Wait!’ Amber shouted as Jessica reached the door.

  Jessica paused. She could feel her phone vibrating in her pocket. Probably Mum, asking when she was going to pick up the kids, or Will, wanting to know if she was coming back to the hospital. But she couldn’t worry about them right now. The truth was within touching distance.

  Amber had grabbed a laptop and was on the sofa, bashing at the keys, her sleeve pulled up so her tattoo was fully visible, the orange-and-red flames licking over her wrist. She gestured for Jessica to come over.

  ‘I used to look after Gavin’s diary, all his appointments and travel and so on,’ Amber said. ‘It was a pain in the arse because he was so difficult and was always cancelling on people and needing hotel rooms at the last minute . . . Anyway, I used the Calendar app on my Mac to keep track of everything and when I bought my new one it all synced across. When did Isabel die?’

  ‘March the first.’

  ‘Two thousand and thirteen?’ She tapped at the keys. ‘Gavin was in Berlin. I know because I booked the flights and his hotel. He flew out on the twenty-eighth and st
ayed for two nights.’

  ‘But . . .’ Jessica floundered. ‘Are you sure he went? Maybe he just wanted you to think he was in Germany so he’d have an alibi.’

  Amber thought about it. ‘No. He definitely went. The hotel sent him a bill afterwards for smoking in his room and burning a hole in the carpet. Gavin denied it but the hotel said he’d be banned from the whole chain . . . In the end I arranged the payment.’

  ‘Are you sure it was that trip?’

  ‘Hang on.’ Amber’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Yes. I’ve still got the emails.’

  ‘But . . . maybe he hired someone to do it.’

  ‘Jessica . . .’

  ‘Like a hitman, or . . .’

  ‘Jessica,’ Amber said softly. ‘It wasn’t him. Believe me, I would love to see him in jail for the things he’s done. But he didn’t do this.’

  Jessica wanted to scream. Every time she thought she was getting close to finding out the truth, it slipped away. Darpak, Will, Ryan, Amber, Gavin. She had suspected all of them, but none of them were guilty.

  Maybe the coroner had been right all along. No one was guilty. Nobody had pushed her sister off that balcony and Jessica had allowed herself to be swept up in Ryan’s mad game. He had believed someone killed Izzy, had set about trying to convince her of that, and she’d fallen for it. She was still falling for it even after finding out what he’d done.

  She was as crazy as he was.

  Feeling weak, she sank into a chair and closed her eyes. She was in a wood, mist hanging between the branches. Izzy was walking towards the trees. She stopped and looked back, just for a moment, before she was swallowed by shadows.

  A bell was ringing somewhere in the distance. A church bell, tolling for Izzy. Telling Jessica it was time to say goodbye.

  Jessica sat there for a long time, lost in the same shadows that had swallowed Izzy whole. She was so tired. She wanted to lie down, surrender to oblivion. A voice whispered in her head, telling her to give in, let it happen, let it go.

  Let her go.

  ‘Jessica?’ Amber was leaning over her. ‘Jessica, are you all right?’

  Jessica kept her eyes shut. She could see Isabel, coming back towards her through the trees. She was mouthing something. ‘Don’t give up.’

  But it felt like the end of a long, torturous journey. She had been round in a loop, travelled through the woods, gone into the dark, and here she was, back where she had started.

  ‘I need to go,’ she said, getting shakily to her feet. ‘I have to go and collect the children.’

  The idea of that, of embracing Olivia and Felix, made her feel a little better. Yes, she had been round in a circle, but at least now they could all move forward, get on with their lives. Her family shaken, with an Isabel-sized hole, but together. No longer haunted.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ Amber said. They went down the stairs, Amber leading. She opened the outside door which led to the back of the building, where Jessica had parked.

  As they stepped out on to the pavement – the sun bright and low in the sky, dazzling her – Jessica heard an engine, and a car came around the corner into the cul-de-sac.

  A grey car.

  The grey car.

  Jessica stared, the blood rushing and pounding in her ears, and she could hear Isabel talking to her again, her words inaudible because Amber spoke at the same time.

  ‘Ah, here she is,’ Amber said as the driver of the car tried to manoeuvre into a tight parking space, and as the car reversed Jessica got a clear view of the woman behind the wheel.

  Jessica moved her lips but couldn’t get the words to form. Finally she was able to say, ‘Why . . . why is she driving that car?’

  ‘Huh? Oh, it’s mine. She borrows it all the time.’ She said something else, something about a Mazda. ‘She needs to sort it out, get the battery replaced, but she hasn’t got round to it . . .’

  The grey Hyundai stopped moving and the driver looked up at Jessica. Their eyes met.

  Nina.

  Nina was driving the grey car.

  Chapter 49

  March 2013

  Isabel couldn’t sleep, despite the alcohol sloshing about her system. She couldn’t get the scene Amber had described out of her head; couldn’t make her heart slow down. She had called Nina as soon as she got home and asked her to come round in the morning, and she kept rehearsing what she would say. At the same time she was trying to resist the call of the little bottle of sleeping pills that was hidden in a drawer in the bathroom.

  Darpak stirred beside her. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked, grabbing his phone and squinting at it. ‘It’s two a.m.’

  She considered telling him, unsure how he would react. Part of her worried he might blame Nina for ‘getting herself into that situation’. He had been less than keen when he’d heard about Nina’s newfound desire to be a model; he seemed to think it was demeaning, that she should use her brains. He’d said that Isabel’s growing business needed her, that they would try to find her a more demanding role in the company. But Izzy was more worried about what Darpak might do to Gavin. He knew people, scary people. The kind of men who would take great pleasure in kicking Gavin’s head in. And although that was an image that gave her great pleasure, she was afraid of the repercussions.

  So she decided not to tell him. Not until after she’d spoken to Nina, anyway.

  ‘My brain’s full of work stuff,’ she said. ‘I can’t relax.’

  He propped himself up on one elbow, reaching over to touch her, laying a warm hand on her hip. He shuffled closer. ‘Maybe we could . . .’

  She smiled and edged closer to him, but an image of him with that intern flashed in her head. She sat up.

  ‘Izzy . . .’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m okay. I just need to go to the bathroom.’

  In the en suite she dug out the sleeping pills and took one, putting them back into their hiding place. She went back and Darpak reached out for her, and suddenly it felt like something she needed. Something that would help.

  Halfway through, the pill began to kick in, and she closed her eyes, felt herself floating away as he held her. In that moment, in the arms of the only man she had ever loved, she was happy. It was the first day of March, the month when winter turned to spring. It would be a new start.

  Darpak had a meeting in town and, knowing it would be difficult to get a parking spot at the train station, he had ordered a taxi.

  ‘What are you doing today?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m going to work from home.’

  ‘I don’t blame you. Oh, the garage should call later to let you know when they’re going to bring the car back.’

  ‘Okay, cool.’

  ‘Love you,’ he said, kissing her goodbye. ‘Call me later?’

  ‘Will do.’

  He paused at the door. ‘I love you.’

  ‘You said that already.’

  ‘Oh yeah. But I do.’ He stepped towards her and pulled her into an embrace. ‘I’m so sorry, Izzy.’

  ‘Go on, you’re going to be late.’ She kissed him again and, finally, he left.

  She made herself a cup of tea and took it upstairs to the en suite, where she ran herself a bath. She added just a little cold so the water was almost unbearably hot, and slid into it, gasping at the heat. She closed her eyes and lay back, trying to relax, to push away all the thoughts about work and Darpak and the conversation she needed to have later with Nina.

  She had only been in the bath for ten minutes when the doorbell rang. She wanted to ignore it and was going to put her head under the water when it rang again. Damn. Was it those idiots from the garage bringing the car back without calling first to warn her?

  She got out of the bath and grabbed her dressing gown. The doorbell sounded again and she shouted, ‘Hold your horses!’

  She exited the bedroom and ran down the stairs. It was Will.

  ‘Oh. Sorry,’ he said, looking at her pink, damp face. ‘Did I get you out of the bath? I wan
ted to show you that video.’

  Two hours later Isabel was pacing the house. She probably shouldn’t have criticised Will’s video, although she couldn’t help being a perfectionist. It was her business and it was important to get it right, but Will had messed up the soundtrack. It was supposed to be subtle; she wanted the sounds of pleasure she had recorded to be in the background, almost like a heartbeat. Instead it sounded like she was the star of a bad porno. And she understood that he wanted to get the project off his desk but he had, she thought, overreacted somewhat, shouting at her like that. She sighed. People were right when they said you shouldn’t get family involved in business – speaking of which, it was noon and Nina should be here by now.

  Isabel could still feel the effects of last night’s pill clinging to her, like she was draped in cobwebs. She had run out of uppers and the temptation to call the man who procured them for her was almost overwhelming. Fighting it, she heated a bowl of tomato soup and took it into the living room, which was stuffy and too hot. Either she or Darpak needed to talk to the heating guy about the faulty thermostat. There was a strange smell in the air too, a faint whiff of cheap deodorant.

  Maybe it was the temperature in the room but she couldn’t stomach the soup. As she was pouring it away, her phone rang. It was Nina.

  ‘I’m outside,’ she said. ‘By the back door. Can you let me in?’

  At the door Isabel said, ‘Did you walk?’

  A nod. ‘I was trying to clear my head.’

  ‘I know the feeling. Did it work?’

  Nina didn’t answer. She went into the kitchen and nodded at the fridge. ‘Do you think it’s too early for a drink?’

  Isabel licked her lips. Maybe a small glass of white wine would blow the clinging cobwebs away and make this conversation easier. ‘Yes, it’s too early,’ she said, taking a corkscrew from the drawer. ‘But fuck it, right?’

  She poured the wine. It was cold and a little tart. She meant to take just a few sips but, within seconds, she’d downed half the glass.