I Choose You

by Gayle Curtis

  ‘You raped me.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ he’d said, frowning at her, completely perplexed.

  Ida had slammed the door on her way out, and Alistair had sat there staring out of the window at the early-night sky. It suddenly dawned on him, what she’d said, and he got into the shower and scrubbed himself clean.

  Later that night, when his dad had gone to bed, he crept downstairs to talk to his mother about it. Magda’s fingers had dug into his cheeks, her sharp nails pricking his skin.

  ‘You must not tell another soul about this, do you understand? Not your mates, no one.’

  ‘Oh fuck, what have I done?’ Alistair began to cry.

  ‘Don’t you know the boundaries? No means no? Bloody hell, son, didn’t we bring you up to understand all this?’

  ‘Mum, I swear, I didn’t hear her say stop, I promise. You know I’m not like that.’ Alistair rested his head in his hands, tears dropping on to the floor. ‘You know how much I love Ida. I would never hurt her.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s stop with the amateur dramatics. We need to think about what we’re going to do. Did she say she was going to report you?’

  ‘She isn’t answering my texts . . .’

  Magda grabbed Alistair. ‘You haven’t mentioned this in your messages?’

  ‘No!’ Alistair pulled his arm free. ‘I’ve just asked her if she’s okay with me and can we meet up.’

  ‘Just carry on as normal. Listen to me, Alistair. She’s not going to ruin your career. I’ll go and talk to her, tell her she’s making a big mistake. You haven’t done anything wrong. I’ll sort it.’ Magda patted his knee.

  Alistair glanced away from Magda, her last sentence said without conviction, because they both knew he had done something very wrong, and no amount of pushing it into the grey area was going to make it right. He’d had sex with Ida, she was underage, and she’d asked him to stop.

  ‘I’ll deal with it. Get some sleep.’ Magda kissed his forehead.

  Alistair had lain in bed later that night, unable to sleep. Most of what had happened now felt like visual white noise, it was all a blur. His mind fluttered back to what his mother had said. She was fiercely protective of his boxing career, and there wasn’t anything or anyone who would get in the way of that. He curled up in a ball and clenched his stomach, wanting it all to go away. But as Magda had predicted, this wasn’t going to go away, and he knew that.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  THEN

  A mother’s love, that’s how Magda justified her actions – what she told herself when she got home from Ray’s and stripped off her gym clothes and trainers. She shoved them into the washing machine and stood there in her bra and knickers, shivering from cold and shock. Visions of Ida collapsing on to the floor appeared violently in her mind; the sound of the heavy glass ashtray cracking the back of her skull, still so vivid.

  It hadn’t been her intention to kill her when she’d gone around there, but everything had turned white – a sharp, cold, icy white – before her eyes. Magda had tried to reason with Ida the day before, and that’s when Ida had told her about the letters she’d found in Ray’s office. Letters written by Ingrid, revealing incriminating facts about Magda and her brother. Ida had refused to hand them over; instead using them as blackmail against her and Alistair. And here she was again, pleading with Ida, having broken into Elise and Nathaniel’s apartment earlier that day, trying to find the damn letters. Worried about being caught in the apartment, Magda had made her way to Ray’s and found Ida there alone.

  ‘Do you think I care about Alistair’s boxing career?’ the girl had said. ‘He raped me, and if I choose to report it, that’s up to me. If you try to stop me, I’ll tell everyone who you really are and what you did to your brother.’

  Magda opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  ‘And you’ll never find those letters, they’re somewhere safe.’

  Those few words from Ida had done it. Magda had begged and pleaded, tried to reason with the teenager who she thought was far too grown-up for her age, too confident, too arrogant. A girl who Magda believed had influenced and brainwashed her son for far too long. And while Ida was searching for her mobile phone which she’d lost that day, Magda had hit her over the back of the head.

  Magda switched the machine on to a hot wash and put her trainers in the shoe cupboard, relieved she’d had the forethought to take them off and put them in her gym bag when she was at Ray’s. She didn’t want anyone identifying a shoe print in the puddle of blood that had circled Ida’s head like an expanding halo.

  Time wasn’t on her side, and she’d known Sonny or Ray could return at any minute. Just after Ida had collapsed on to the floor, Magda had heard a key in the front door and had quietly slipped out of the orangery, and she was making her way around the back when she heard Sonny shouting. She’d seen him chasing Alistair down the garden and out through the gate. She discovered later that Alistair had returned to the house to talk to Ida.

  The less evidence, the better, and in that split second Magda made a decision to return to the orangery and remove Ida’s body. Ray was with the girl, though. His face through the glass held an expression she would never forget, and she watched him for a few moments, rocking his granddaughter in his arms. She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, not daring to move in case he saw her. Deciding it was best to get out of there as quickly as possible, Magda waited for Ray to leave the room, so she could creep around the side of the house. Then she remembered she’d left her sports bag inside and could see it resting against the leg of the kitchen table, the bloody glass ashtray inside it. Her heart began to pound, filling her ears and making her dizzy. She had to get that bag. Ray had left the room, but she couldn’t be sure where he was.

  Magda had no idea how much time had passed; it felt like seconds but was probably quite a few minutes. There was still no sign of Sonny, and Ray had returned to the orangery, she could hear him talking to someone and they appeared to be giving him instructions. He’d called an ambulance. Magda realised Ida was still alive. Magda’s heart seemed to slide up into the back of her throat and spread through her head.

  Ray lifted the phone from the coffee table, turned the speakerphone off, and she heard him say he would go out the front and guide the ambulance in, and that’s when she took her chance.

  Magda retrieved the gym bag from by the kitchen table, and tried not to look around; she couldn’t waste time seeing if anyone was coming. She put the bag over her shoulder and crept into the orangery. Crouching down, as she would if she was doing a dead lift in the gym, she deftly picked Ida up in her arms, swiftly manoeuvring her out of the door, somehow managing to push the door shut with her bottom.

  When she stood on the path at the side of the house, she had an overwhelming feeling of horror, the shock of what she’d done and what she was about to do suddenly punching her in the gut. It was one thing killing someone in a rage, but finishing them off when your temper had calmed was another thing altogether. She had no idea where she was going to put Ida or how she would permanently silence her, and the security lights would illuminate her as they had Alistair. Panic embraced her. If it hadn’t been for the sound of the gate clicking at the bottom of Ray’s garden, she would have carried Ida to the cricket pavilion and dumped her in the basement, but it was too late now; she had to dump her and leave as quickly as she could.

  Magda kept herself tight against the wall, and that’s when she fell against the coal bunker. Having heard the back door slam and feeling assured that Sonny was back inside, she rested Ida on the top of the bunker and pulled her phone from her jacket pocket. Using the torch, she illuminated the large structure, trying to work out if it opened from the top. Once she’d established it had a lid, she lifted Ida off the bunker, heaving her over her shoulder. Her muscles were beginning to weaken, so with all the strength she had left, Magda lifted the lid and allowed Ida to flop into the bottom, flinching as she felt pain dart through her back. She car
efully closed the bunker and tried to figure out how she was going to remove herself from the garden without being seen. There wasn’t time to see if Ida was dead or think about her actions and if they were the right ones.

  After a few seconds, Magda made a run for it through the shrubs, keeping her body against the wall as she tried to move quickly, whilst bent over, her heart beating like a jackrabbit’s. The security lights hadn’t been activated, so she managed to slip through the gate at the bottom of the garden, her dark gym clothing camouflaging her.

  Once she had reached the corner of the park, she stopped briefly to calm herself. With shaking hands, she removed the trainers from her bag and put them on, feeling the weight of the ashtray she’d thrown in there after the attack. She had no idea what she was going to do with it. As she made her way home, she kept telling herself she’d just come directly from the gym.

  Now, here she was, standing in her own home, having possibly killed a young girl, but if not, and she survived, she would tell everyone exactly what had happened. Magda gave herself a shake, carried the gym bag upstairs and got herself into the shower, taking the ashtray in there with her. She had to carry on as if it were a normal day. Alistair and her husband would be back soon, and the police would most definitely want to talk to them.

  Magda turned the heat up in the shower, so it was almost unbearable, and allowed the water to pelt her skin. That was the second time she’d taken someone’s life. The sounds of her brother, Gordon, tumbling down the cliff, and the thud of the ashtray on the back of Ida’s head rang in her ears, making her squeeze her head with her hands, until she thought she’d crush her brains. She recalled the terrible, sickening guilt she’d felt after Gordon’s death, which everyone mistook for grief. It had almost killed her, even though she had felt it was justified. But this was something else altogether. She’d killed a child, in a temper. There was no amount of mother’s love that could convince her it was okay.

  Thoughts of the ashtray brought Magda back to reality and she quickly scrubbed it with her fingers and then set about washing her hair and body while she racked her brains, trying to think of where to hide it. By the time she stepped out of the shower, she knew exactly where, and opted to place it in the lounge, like it was a familiar item in their home. Hiding the ashtray and risking it being found would immediately draw attention to it. Magda placed it on a table, deciding if Liam noticed and quizzed her about it, she’d say it was given to her or she’d found it at a flea market. She stepped back and observed the heavy glass object amongst their own things; it looked odd and awkward, but she didn’t have time to worry about that now, then she ran back upstairs, pulling her towel off as she went.

  Magda had just finished getting dressed when she heard Alistair’s key in the door. She looked out of the window and he met her gaze. From the expression on his face, she couldn’t help wondering if he knew what she’d done.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  NOW

  Magda wasn’t the only person to have worked out the Suicide Watcher’s game. Nathaniel had researched it well enough over the years. And then he’d found the letters from Ingrid in Ida’s doll’s house and that gave Magda a motive. It was a theory and not a fact, but when he made his way to Magda’s he didn’t care about any of that. Somehow, Magda knew Ida had found those letters, and it was Magda who had broken into their apartment that day in search of them. It had to have been. She was the only one implicated in the letters. She’d killed his daughter, his little girl, and he wanted her to pay for it.

  People rarely suspected women – he had learnt that being a journalist – and, granted, there weren’t as many female killers as male, but there were enough. No one had spotted the motive, but Nathaniel had spent enough time with Magda to work it out. It was there in the words she spoke, you just had to look for it, or perhaps he noticed it, now he was equipped with new information. That’s what Nathaniel thought, anyway. He’d interviewed people accused of crimes, and always knew if they were guilty or innocent.

  Nathaniel acted as normal, ringing the bell and waiting for Magda to answer the door. He was nervous, filled with anger, but nervous all the same. Magda’s reaction to his questions would determine her fate, because it was just a theory – she hadn’t admitted anything to anyone, and Nathaniel had no proof, other than a motive and the earring Elise had found and shown him after her visit.

  ‘This is a surprise, you normally text . . .’ Magda stepped aside so he could enter the house.

  ‘I was passing and fancied a coffee. Not disturbing you, am I?’

  Magda looked at him. ‘Is there something wrong?’

  ‘No, no, not at all.’ Nathaniel knew he was being weird, out of character. He needed to calm down and slow his heart, which was thundering in his ears. ‘I’ve just been to the gym, ran too much probably.’

  ‘Oh, did you see Alistair in there?’

  ‘No. But then I didn’t weight-train today. How’s he doing?’

  ‘Really well. Getting ready for this fight on Saturday. His coach says that if he wins this, he’ll be heading for a professional career.’

  ‘You must be really proud.’ Nathaniel placed his rucksack on the floor, aware of the gun at the bottom of the bag making a soft thud. Magda didn’t notice; she was busy making them coffee. She seemed nervous, and Nathaniel thought this was odd, considering she had no idea why he was there.

  ‘I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.’ Nathaniel pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down.

  ‘Oh yes?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about Ida’s death . . .’

  ‘Unsurprisingly.’ Magda paused, catching Nathaniel’s eye. He held her gaze for a moment – longer than was comfortable for either of them.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what happened that day and who would have a motive to kill my daughter.’

  ‘Have the police closed the case?’ Magda was still fiddling with the coffee machine.

  Nathaniel decided to forget the questioning and get straight to the point. He had already decided what he was going to do – and no one, not even Elise, would know about it. That was the key to murder: bide your time and keep it to yourself.

  ‘I know you killed Ida. I found the letters you were looking for when you broke into my apartment.’

  Magda stopped what she was doing but didn’t look at him. Nathaniel could see she was trying to decide whether to admit or deny. He carefully took some gloves from his pocket and placed them on his hands, keeping them concealed beneath the table.

  ‘Come on, Magda. Tell me what happened.’

  They stared at one another for a few moments.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, it was enough that you accused Alistair. Now me?’ Magda’s hand gently touched her chest. It was shaking, giving away her lies.

  ‘I know, Magda. There’s no point lying. The earring, the back injury, and let’s not forget your motive of keeping your only child’s name clear of any scandal – and, of course, your own.’

  Magda stopped what she was doing and stared at Nathaniel. ‘Firstly, I don’t know anything about an earring. Secondly, what has a back injury got to do with it? And thirdly, I might have a motive, but I can assure you, it wasn’t me.’

  ‘When Elise visited you, she trod on a diamond stud earring in your hall. She knew straight away it belonged to Ida; she’d put them on, the morning of her birthday. It must have got caught in your clothing and dropped off when you got home. Error number one. Secondly, you’d hurt your back when I visited you after Ida was attacked – it’s just an observation, an assumption, but I’m guessing you did it when you carried Ida out of Ray’s house and dumped her in the coal bunker, like a piece of trash. And lastly, and most importantly, you had two motives, one being to protect Alistair and the other being that Ida had seen those incriminating letters.’

  Magda took a deep breath, as if defeated.

  ‘It was an accident. We got into a fight. I was defending myself. I
honestly didn’t mean to kill her.’

  Nathaniel breathed in deeply, clenching his jaw, as he reached into his bag for the gun. Before Magda could run from the room, Nathaniel was on his feet and had grabbed her around the waist. She was strong, but she didn’t have the strength he had. He dragged her back to the table and shoved her into the chair he’d been sitting in, and held the gun to her head.

  ‘We’re going to play a little game, Magda, and you’re going to participate. Otherwise, I’ll go straight to the police and tell them everything. It’s a game I think you’re familiar with. Only, the rules are slightly different to what you remember . . .’

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, a massive and heartfelt thank you to Paul and Susan Feldstein at The Feldstein Agency. I’m so lucky to have your fierce support and friendship. The entire team at Thomas and Mercer, particularly Jack Butler for championing me, and Dominic Myers, whose comment in The Bookseller made me beam. My editors, David Downing, Gemma Wain and Swati Gamble, I’ve loved working on this book with you all.

  Endless appreciation to my husband, Christopher, particularly for his unwavering patience as I noisily interrupt his sleep to write at 2 a.m. Although, lately, I’ve noticed his smile has a whiff of hysteria about it.

  A huge thank you to my parents, especially my mum, who is still wielding her red pen, ready for action. Please consider redundancy and go quietly. . .