today, because he is worried about what Miss Henderley
is going to say to his gran. She stayed on in the classroom
after the final bell, marking books, and said she would
see him later which made the weird feeling in his stomach worse.
After-school club is held in the main hall. Tables
and chairs are set up with boxes of toys and puzzles and
games. When Louise, who is in charge of the club, tells
them to start packing up, he tries to be super-quick so he
can be first out and get away fast before Miss Henderley
appears. But it’s no good.
When he gets to the door, she is already standing there
– out in the corridor – before Louise gets the register.
They all have to be ticked off, one by one, from
Louise’s list, as parents arrive to collect them. It’s the rule.
Through the glass of the double doors to the corridor, he
can see Miss Henderley talking to his gran.
When Louise calls his name and his gran comes to
the door, she says they just need to nip to his classroom
for a little chat with his teacher.
Oh no.
51
Teresa Driscoll
In the classroom, they both ask him the same question
– Miss Henderley and his gran. About why he is tired on
Thursdays. And is there anything worrying him?
He again says, ‘No, I’m not worried about anything’
– and keeps looking at his gran.
His gran has lots of different faces. She has a face
when she is pretending that she isn’t tired. A face when
she pretends she isn’t cross. Right now she is pretending
about something but he doesn’t know what.
When they get outside and are walking home, she
holds his hand and then ruffles his hair and says that she’s
sorry. And she tells him not to worry. For some reason
this makes him want to cry.
‘I didn’t say anything to my teacher.’
‘I know, lovely boy. I’m not cross. It’s not your fault.’
When they get home, she makes him hot chocolate in
his favourite mug – the one with the big, green dragon.
‘I have a new idea,’ his gran says. ‘For next Wednesday.
We can try something different. You can come with me
but we’ll have to keep it our extra-special new secret.
Like hide-and-seek. I’ll need to find you somewhere to
hide. Can you do that for me? Be very, very quiet. And
hide. Like a game.’
This is the best news. The best news in his whole life.
‘So I can come with you. For the new secret?’ He is
not sure he understands how this will work but it sounds
much, much better than the old secret.
‘Yes. A new secret. You still mustn’t tell anyone, es-
pecially not at school. You can come with me but you
will need to hide. So shall we try that?’
‘Yes please.’ He throws his arms around her neck and
kisses her cheek.
52
CHAPTER NINE
Matthew
Matthew has his feet up on his desk, leaning back in his
chair. He has an odd feeling that is making him frown.
He narrows his eyes, trying to place it…
Ah yes – rested; he had quite forgotten. This is what a good night’s sleep feels like. He smiles as he remembers
the shock first thing this morning.
He had been woken by Sal shaking him, her eyes
darting from side to side in alarm. She then gripped his
forearm, with her other hand in the air, signalling that
he should listen. He had assumed a strange noise. Some
evidence of an intruder?
He listened, already glancing for a weapon. A plan.
But no – nothing…
Another look sideways confirmed something even
odder than the silence. The alarm clock said 8 a.m. This
could not be right. For the last five, maybe six months,
Amelie had set her own clock.
To 4.45 a.m.
They had tried everything. They had read books and
scoured websites. They had followed the guy on Insta
with umpteen daughters, millions of fans and buckets of
advice. Nothing worked.
53
Teresa Driscoll
Maybe she doesn’t need much sleep, Sal’s mother had
mused over their last Sunday lunch together. Like Margaret Thatcher. She didn’t need much sleep…
The comparison made Matthew go cold.
They tried putting Amelie to bed later. Earlier.
Dropped a nap. Added a nap. Cut out dairy. Increased
dairy. Nothing worked…
Until today; until this blessed morning when their
clever, brilliant and totally wonderful daughter slept
through, not just until eight o’clock … but eight thirty.
Matthew taps a pen on the desk. He hums. He smiles.
It’s over, he says to himself, just as the phone rings.
He takes a deep breath, fearing it may be his new
client couple cancelling their appointment. Sadly, this
happens a lot – people losing their bottle. He checks his
watch. His agency is doing OK these days – off the back
of some high-profile success – but for all that, it’s been
a quiet month. He could do with some new bookings.
‘They’re back.’ The voice on the line is familiar. ‘I
thought they had gone, Mr Hill. Do you remember? A
good while back now. The last time I spoke to you we
both thought that they had gone for good. Turns out we
were wrong. They’re back and there are more of them.
You have to help me.’
‘Still tiny?’ Matthew asks, his heart sinking. His caller
is a ‘frequent flyer’ named Ian Ellis who bombarded him
with calls soon after he set up the agency. Ian believes
miniature people want to kidnap him. Like Lilliput. He has been ringing on and off for years.
‘Yes. Thumb-size still. Different clothes though, now.
I think it might be something to do with Brexit. They
look European. And they’re armed. I’ve told them I voted
remain but it’s made no difference. They won’t let me
54
I Will Make You Pay
cross the hall to the bathroom. And I very much need
the toilet. I do not wish to be indelicate here but we are
in danger of an accident, Mr Hill.’
Matthew bites into his lip. Ian became horribly persis-
tent at one point, ringing several times each day. Matthew
tried to be kind and he tried to get Ian help. He was clearly one of the people on the fringes of society who had sadly
stretched the patience of his GP, the local hospital and
the emergency services. As a nod to his former police
colleagues, Matthew often in the past tried to ‘talk him
down’ to limit Ian’s 999 calls.
There would be spells with a lot of calls. Then long
spells with none. And then eventually the calls stopped
completely and Matthew had rather forgotten about Ian
– hoping his problems had resolved.
‘Right – well, this is a surprise after all this time, Ian.
So could anything have triggered this? It’s just I thought
we’d agreed they’d gone for good the last time we spoke.
Anything happened lately that might
have brought them
back?’
There is a pause. Matthew can hear Ian sucking in a
long breath. He expects the usual blabbering describing
the activities and the clothes of the ‘little people’ to ramp up a gear, but instead there is another sound. Matthew
strains to make it out and pushes the receiver closer to his
ear. To his horror, it sounds like distant crying.
‘Are you all right there, Ian?’ Matthew is used to feel-
ing irritated by Ian. Sad. Frustrated. Angry that society
has no resources to deal with people like him. A whole
range of emotions, in fact. Now, for the first time, he
feels truly shaken. Also very guilty.
‘Nothing has happened, Mr Hill. Nothing has trig-
gered this. Why did you have to ask that? You people
55
Teresa Driscoll
always fishing for your blessed triggers. You have absolutely no right to ask me that.’ And then – another first. Ian is the one to end the call.
Matthew sits up straighter. He finds that he is uneasy
– both to hear from Ian again and also how this particular
call has made him feel. And then the intercom announces
the arrival of the ‘stalker’ case couple. He presses the but-
ton to invite them upstairs, still thinking about Ian as he
warns over the speaker about the steep flight of stairs that
he always worries will be the death of someone.
By the time he is standing – door held wide, ready
for his clients – Matthew has decided to break a promise
to himself. Yes. If Ian rings again, he is going to arrange
to visit him.
‘Sorry we’re a bit late. Parking trouble.’ Tom, who rang
him in the supermarket and later booked this appointment,
is stretching out his hand. Firm handshake but nervous
face. This is not unusual. He has his hand protectively
on his girlfriend’s back and Matthew glances between
them as he signals for them to sit down, offering coffee.
‘I have a decent machine in the kitchen next door.
Bear with me while I get things going and then we can
chat properly.’ Matthew likes to watch his clients from a
secret vantage point, through the crack in the door, to try
to assess what he is dealing with. He and Sally now live
in a cottage near the sea but he has kept this flat adjoining the office and finds it terribly useful.
He watches as Tom takes his girlfriend’s hand and
gives it a squeeze. Tom is athletic-looking – dark hair
cut short. A close-fitted T-shirt beneath a very nice blue
jacket. Flat stomach. Matthew would guess mid-thirties?
His girlfriend looks a tad younger; late twenties, fair
and slim – even borderline frail – in a floral dress with a
56
I Will Make You Pay
denim jacket. Tom is smiling his encouragement but she
is very pale and clearly not comfortable at all. Matthew
wonders if this is the result of the stalking, or reluctance
to attend the appointment.
As he brings the tray through with their three cups and
a jug of foaming milk, Matthew decides to plunge right in.
‘Right. So Tom gave me quite a lot of detail over
the phone, Alice. An awful time for you. I’m truly sorry
to hear what you’re going through. But before we talk
about options going forward, I need to know how you
feel about coming here. Involving me, I mean.’
‘We both feel that the police aren’t doing enough.
That they don’t seem to have the resources.’ Tom is lean-
ing forward. Agitated. ‘It’s quite a shock to us both. How
little they seem able to do.’
‘Is that right, Alice?’ Matthew widens his eyes. He
sympathises with Tom’s concern. If it were Sally, he’d be
exactly the same, but he needs to hear from Alice.
Finally she glances at her boyfriend, finding a small
smile for him, before turning back to Matthew. ‘I’m not
going to lie. This was Tom’s idea, not mine. He’s very
worried about me. Hoping that you can add to what the
police are doing.’
‘Or aren’t doing,’ Tom interjects, the sarcasm in his
voice barely disguised.
‘And where are you at with the police? Who’s handling
it?’ Matthew keeps his gaze on Alice.
‘They’ve put DI Melanie Sanders on the case now.
I’m told she’s very good. Is that right? I understand you
worked together a bit.’
Matthew narrows his eyes. So Alice has been reading
up on him – checking him out. He takes in a slow breath,
remembering that she is a journalist, after all.
57
Teresa Driscoll
‘Yes. I do know her and she is. Very good, I mean.
We trained together. And we sort of worked on a missing
persons case quite recently. You’re in good hands.’
‘But they won’t provide surveillance.’ Tom is lean-
ing forward again. ‘Doesn’t that surprise you? I thought
it would be the first base – that there would be some
kind of protection offered. I mean, this guy is actually
threatening her. May have been in her house. May even
be watching her.’
Matthew taps into his computer to call up the notes
he took from his second chat with Tom on the phone,
when he called him back after getting home from the
supermarket. ‘So has there been nothing from Forensics?
From the light fitting, the house or the cake box?’
‘Apparently not,’ Alice says. ‘He must wear gloves. Be
quite clever. Or at least experienced at this. The police
seem to think it’s someone who reads my columns in the
paper. May have some personal grudge.’
‘And you really can’t think of anyone. Ex-boyfriend?
Someone from a court case you’ve covered? Anything
like that?’
‘I honestly can’t think of anyone.’ Alice’s face changes
and Matthew watches her closely. He notices that she lets
go of Tom’s hand. Interesting.
He glances between them. Tom looks so worried, his
foot flicking up and down. Matthew again takes in the
expensive jacket. An alpha guy. Yes. Privileged-looking.
Probably used to being in control of his life. He will
dislike this feeling of helplessness. Matthew’s already
checked Tom’s LinkedIn account and profile with his
law firm. A high-flyer. Private school, then a first in
Law from LSE. Matthew’s not naturally drawn to the
public-school type and so bristles. He tries to process
58
I Will Make You Pay
this response and checks himself; it’s unfair to judge Tom
because of his background. It’s understandable that Tom
would hate this. Matthew couldn’t bear it if Sally were
ever targeted…
‘So I was wondering if you could agree to surveil-
lance,’ Tom says. ‘To look out for Alice on Wednesdays.
This guy – he seems to target her on a Wednesday…’
‘He’s not a bodyguard and I’m not a celebrity, Tom.
We can’t expect Mr Hill to trail around after me. I can’t
go through my whole life expecti
ng protection.’
‘I don’t do personal security per se,’ Matthew says.
‘Yes, I know that. I saw that on your website.’ Tom’s
voice is more agitated. His face anxious. ‘But I was won-
dering if we could book you for a day a week to work
on this case. And if we made it Wednesdays, you could
keep an eye on Alice and hopefully nail some evidence
to catch this guy at the same time. Put an end to this.’
Tom’s eyes are really wide. Pleading.
Matthew twists his mouth to the side. He takes in
Tom’s desperation and finds that he likes him after all.
He can’t deny that a regular booking would be welcome.
But it’s not the kind of agreement he’d normally make.
A bit too much like security. He’s worried about setting
a precedent.
‘What do you think, Alice?’ Matthew keeps his tone
neutral.
‘I don’t honestly know. I mean – I am afraid. I hate
admitting that. But I do dread what’s coming next from
this guy. I would feel better if someone was at least work-
ing actively on this. I have no idea why Wednesday is
significant. Or whether it’s just a coincidence so far.’
‘It looks more like a pattern than a coincidence to me,’
Matthew says, glancing again at his notes.
59
Teresa Driscoll
‘Yes, I agree.’ Alice is looking at him more directly now
and he sees real fear in her eyes. For some reason he finds
himself thinking again of his wife. And his daughter too.
‘I tell you what. How about I agree to work on this
case this coming Wednesday. Keep an eye on things from
first light through to when you feel safe. Say, when Tom
is able to join you in the evening? Did you say you’re
staying in Dorset?’ Again he glances at his notes on the
screen.
‘Yes. My sister’s place. It has very good security; I feel
reasonably safe there. But I have an interview set up for
Wednesday and I really don’t want to cancel it. If you
could come with me, or watch out for me, I would feel
much happier.’
‘I thought you were taking a couple of weeks off
work?’ Matthew is still cross-checking the information
Tom gave him on the phone.
‘Yes. I’m not going into the office at the moment.
While we wait for this to quieten down. But I set this
interview up a while back. It’s with a local actress who’s
not often available. It’s a bit of a coup so I don’t want to
give it to someone else. Professional pride.’
I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Page 6
