‘They don’t. You’re the only one I’ve opened up to.’ She smiles. ‘I’m a private person, not really into baring my soul to all. A bit like you.’ Mo bumps her shoulder into me.
‘Well, once it’s out, it’s out, isn’t it? You can’t take it back – trust me, I’ve tried a few times. Look, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Mark. Mo, how much do you know about him? I mean, about his past before he met me.’
‘Why do you ask? Is there something wrong?’
‘Christ, where do you want me to start? He was behaving really odd last night. More odd than usual, before you say it. I mean, really proper oddly.’ I called him earlier; he didn’t pick up. Sent me a text some time after – said he was still feeling unwell, would be in touch soon.
‘Oh?’
‘Because of all the other stuff, we’ve not really had the chance to chat. But the other night…’
In detail I explain to Mo about the note I found in Mark’s glove compartment, the strange envelope and, most importantly, his denial of it. I wonder at this point if I should also tell Mo about Nigel’s note, but then decide against it. It’s taken him long enough to confide in me and Mo is someone who may feel the need to mention it to him. I do tell her, though, about Mark’s jealous insinuations regarding me and Nigel.
‘Then last night, I rush home, running late because I needed to pop in to see Daniel – this is another story, by the way.’ I hold my hand up, in case Mo is about to begin asking questions about this. I need to keep to the topic. ‘Mark is literally seconds behind me. I’d not even taken my coat off when he knocked. I was late again, wasn’t I? He wasn’t best pleased but managed to contain his obvious frustration. Anyway, I didn’t take too long getting ready, I even called through to the sitting room, I’d be another five minutes, he called back, to not worry, take my time. But you’re not going to believe this, minutes later I found him lurking in the sitting room, took one look at me, obviously holding back what he wanted to say, looked angry to me, then said he was feeling unwell and left. Just left. Found his jacket this morning – he left without it, couldn’t get out quick enough. I don’t know whether it was a hang-on from the Nigel stuff or what. I mean, I suppose I did meet Nigel yesterday afternoon, but he wouldn’t have known about…’
‘What – after Mark had already had his paddy about Nigel, you still met him?’
I look at the doubt in Mo’s eyes. Please, not her as well. ‘Mo, Nigel is going through a really rough time, as you well know. He’s been in a right state. I’m not turning my back on a friend in need because… because Mark has issues.’
‘I know, I know. Of course not.’
‘Anyway, there’s no way Mark could have known about our meet-up. Unless he’s literally stalking me.’
Mo coughs into her hand. ‘Quite. Nat, tell me again what Mark’s note said.’
‘Weird stuff. Listen to me – aren’t all our notes weird?’
‘What did it say?’
‘Oh, God, something along the lines of – playing the same game, and, oh, yes, once one, always one. That was it.’
I don’t miss Mo closing her eyes, touching her forehead with her hand. ‘Mo? Does this mean something to you?’
She nods, taking my free hand in hers. ‘Looks like our messenger also has something on Mark’s past. Oh, Nat, I can’t tell you how much this has been troubling me, whether to mention it or not. I am so sorry; I’ve really struggled keeping it from you. But you must remember, I knew Mark a while before we met, love – he’s been so good to me all along. You know, I’ve always believed that everyone deserves a second chance. Which isn’t so easy, is it, when people have information on you? We both understand this, don’t we? Nat?’
‘I’m not sure what you’re asking me to understand. You’re kind of worrying me. What is it you’ve not told me about Mark?’
‘Before you. Before either of us knew you. His girlfriend before, and, as far as I know, he’s not had too many relationships, but this one all went horribly wrong. In his defence, he was completely infatuated with Nattie.’
‘Nattie? Bloody Nattie! As in Natalie?’
‘No, love. As in Natasha.’
‘Still bloody creepily close, wouldn’t you say? What am I – a model replacement?’
‘Shhh. Let me tell you.’
I sit frozen to the bench as Mo spares no details regarding Mark and his girlfriend before me. How smitten he was with her, how she worked with Mo in the gallery, how he’d intended to ask her to marry him, purchased the ring and everything. Until he discovered she was seeing his best friend, the very friend he was to ask to be his best man. Mark was understandably devastated. And being Mark, he was unable to let it go, unable to let her go. He would follow her from work, turn up uninvited at her house, track and find her whenever she was out and about, text her several times a day. Generally speaking, he stalked her – WE’RE PLAYING THE SAME GAME AREN’T WE – now it makes sense. ONCE ONE ALWAYS ONE. Then, one evening, he followed Natasha and his best friend to a bar, where he lost his temper, a fight broke out between the two guys. His best friend tripped and cracked his head. He was airlifted to hospital but, sadly, died. Mark was eventually cleared of manslaughter, but it was touch and go, could have gone either way. Apparently it nearly destroyed him; he wasn’t a killer, after all. However, then the total idiot continued to keep track of Natasha, which landed him back in court and stamped with a non-molestation order.
Dear God, who have you landed me with this time?
54
Natalie
I feel kind of numb stumbling through town. I’m not mad at Mo for not telling me. She was genuinely torn and upset. I think I understand why she hid it from me. At the end of the day, it’s not as though Mark is a killer, is it? The stupid man was hurt, obsessive and a bloody maniac stalker, but not a killer. I stayed with Mo for a while after, until the sun began to drop, until I could bear the cold no longer and until I could turn my jelly-like legs into something to walk with. And now what? Where do I go? Who can I talk this through with? Or maybe I need some time alone, to get my head around all this new information. About my boyfriend, my landlord, my boss – shit, Natalie, what have you done?
Before I know it, I’m back at the house. I need to be alone but I don’t want to be alone. I am angry, confused and scared. Without any real conscious thought, I begin to knock on Nigel’s door. He’ll understand, he’ll talk straight to me – he’s even warned me about Mark before. Does Nigel know? Then it hits me: God, does this mean Mark could be behind the notes? He has history whichever way I look at it. But would he send himself a note intimating he was a stalker? Surely, that would be classed as crazy? Then it dawns on me. Mark denied it being his because he was the sender, the stalker, giving the note to another stalker? It’s completely messed up, but it works. ‘We’re playing the same game, once one, always one.’ I’m repeating this to myself as Nigel opens the door.
‘Natalie. You look awful, are you okay?’
‘Yes. No. Not really, look, sorry to disturb you, but have you time to talk? I really need someone to…’
Nigel pulls his door to behind him, holding up his hand. ‘Sure, can you give me, say, twenty minutes? Just, I’m in the middle of…’
‘Absolutely, no problem, shall I come back here or will you come to me?’
‘I’ll come to you. Shouldn’t be too long.’
‘Perfect. Thanks, Nigel.’
Nigel closes his door and I contemplate checking my pigeonhole but I really can’t be coping with anything else bad, so make my way towards the stairs. Twenty minutes, then Nigel will have something sensible to say.
55
Morwenna
‘I had to tell her, Mark. It really should have been you, not me. I’m upset I’ve had to lie to her all this time. You really should have told her the truth by now, like you promised. She doesn’t deserve to find out like this. I feel like the worst friend ever.’
Mark bows his head. ‘You’re right. I know, I meant
to tell her, would have told her but, if I’m honest, we’ve not been having the best of times, so I kept putting it off. The way things were heading between us there was every chance we wouldn’t survive the year anyway.’
‘Even so.’
‘I really am sorry the truth fell for you to tell. You’ve been a good friend. It was wrong of me. How did she take it?’
‘Oh, how do you think?’
‘Not good.’
Mo shakes her head. ‘It took me a while to get her to see it from your perspective. You know how she has problems with anything to do with violence and men, what with her father, so…’
‘Yes, say no more, I know. So what happens now?’
‘Mark, this is for you and Natalie to work out. My role, welcome or not in your relationship, is done with. Nothing to do with me. But talking to each other may be a good place to start.’
‘Sure. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? But even that is easier said than done these days.’
Morwenna reaches for Mark’s hand. ‘Each and every one of us have things in our past we’re not proud of, love. You’ll come through this. You’ve no choice.’
‘With Natalie, I’m not so sure.’
Morwenna would love to reassure him, for sure with Natalie, but she doubts this will be the case. Their relationship was already hanging on a very fine thread. She could tell him a hard lesson learned, what goes around comes around, the truth will always eventually be outed and everything has consequences, but that would be cruel, however much he possibly deserves it. ‘Who knows, love? Sooner the better, though, eh? Talk sooner than later.’
‘No time like the present.’ Mark pulls his mobile from his jacket pocket.
‘I’ll be out the back. That stock room could really do with a good tidy.’ Mo squeezes his shoulder and wanders off. She’ll not be holding her breath. There’s a very good chance Nat will simply not pick up. She understandably took this business quite badly. She wasn’t too pleased with Morwenna either but, in the end, she graciously agreed it was a difficult situation. They sat for some time mulling it over before hugging and going their separate ways. Worse still, Morwenna didn’t have the chance to talk to Nat about the other matter sitting heavy in her heart. Now the chance has passed she probably never will. So much grief, so much self-reproach. The question that keeps repeating over and over. Did she kill her husband, did she kill John?
56
Natalie
I’m halfway up the stairs when the door to Daniel’s flat opens and Tommy steps this side of the door in his usual uniform: loafer shoes, dark trousers, pale polo shirt, sweatshirt and a puffy cotton waisted jacket. ‘Hi,’ I call down. I did think about pretending I’d not noticed him.
‘Hi there. I’m just off.’
‘Good stuff. Is Daniel okay, today?’
‘Today?’
I didn’t mean to imply anything to Tommy but, then again, he is supposed to be looking out for Daniel. ‘Just he wasn’t feeling too good about things yesterday.’
‘Really? He’s doing fine today. Actually, do you have a moment, whilst we’re on the subject?’
I really want to say, no, this is definitely not a good time, but then again, why not? I’ve a few minutes to kill until Nigel arrives and I probably shouldn’t be alone with my thoughts right now. ‘Sure, come on up if you like.’
Tommy follows in my footsteps up the stairs, a little too close for my personal space preference, but when I speed up my pace, so does he. Like when someone stands too close, you step back and they move closer – hate that. I’m itching to stop and tell him to back off. We both remain silent whilst I open the front door, then he follows me on through to the sitting room, still only centimetres behind me, breathing down my neck. You’d think I was towing him – all he needs is a number plate on his bum. I glance around the area, longing to check all the other rooms but managing to resist at least until Tommy leaves. Which hopefully will be soon.
‘Coffee?’ I offer, hoping he’ll decline.
Tommy looks at his watch. ‘No, I’m good, have to be somewhere else very soon.’
‘Sure. Want to sit down, then?’
‘No, this won’t take long.’
‘Something bothering you, Tommy?’
‘There isn’t an easy way to say this, so, yes, actually, it’s about Daniel.’
Well, obviously! ‘Oh? Is he okay?’
Tommy shifts from foot to foot. ‘Like I said, this is a touch awkward. But, Natalie, I’m not sure your friendship with Daniel is healthy for him. There, I’ve said it. I know it’s not what you expected to hear but, even so, that’s how it is.’
What the hell? ‘I’m sorry, how do you mean?’ Why did I let him up here? I’m beginning to think I have a fetish for being punished.
‘You were with him last night?’
He knows I was so why is he asking. ‘And?’
‘It’s just I’ve noticed, after Daniel spends time with you, he’s usually quite low and anxious afterwards. He’s incredibly suggestible and vulnerable, you should know.’
‘Tommy, I have to say, I always struggle with your vision of Daniel, but this is just ludicrous. I am never anything but a good friend to Daniel. And, I might add, if you were doing your job, whatever it is supposed to be – I am assuming to look out for Daniel – you’d have noticed Daniel has been especially anxious recently. This is nothing to do with me. It’s to do with the notes.’ As soon as I mention the notes, I regret it. Daniel mentioned only last night, he wasn’t telling Tommy about the notes because he felt it could make matters worse with him, whatever that meant.
‘Notes?’
Great. This day just keeps on getting better. Okay, so damage limitation: do I mention the one I feel is relevant to Daniel’s anxiety, downplay it maybe, or shall I shrug it off as something immaterial?
‘You talked with Daniel about the notes?’ Tommy says, taking me by surprise. So he does know. Strange, how, if Daniel hasn’t told him about them?
‘You know about the notes?’
‘Of course,’ he says. ‘It’s my job to know everything about Daniel.’
‘Funny, because Daniel said he hadn’t mentioned them to you.’
‘Hmm. Doesn’t stop me from seeing them, though, does it? More to the point, what do you know about Daniel’s notes?’
I’ve never liked Tommy and I’m definitely not warming to him any. Still, I may as well understand his opinion on the matter. ‘There was one about his sister.’
‘“Tell them who killed your sister.”’
‘Yes, that one.’
‘Daniel didn’t kill his sister; he only feels he did. That’s what I mean about being suggestible.’
‘My gosh, I know he didn’t. I wasn’t asking for your confirmation. I know Daniel couldn’t, wouldn’t, do anything like that. What I’m wondering is—’
‘You don’t know Daniel as I do. He doesn’t need anyone…’
‘Anyone what, exactly? Being his friend? Do you know, he’s so lonely he spends a lot of time up at that residential home reading to someone or other. Are you aware of this? Yet, here you stand telling me to unfriend him.’
‘You mean up at that dire ramshackle cottage, off Pears Hill, that one. He loves going there, finds it peaceful. He’s not lonely. You’re wrong. He doesn’t need quite the level of stimulation you think he does.’
I take my coat off and hurl it from a distance onto the sofa. ‘I hate the way you speak of him, like he has no rights or mind of his own. And… and, you know what, I don’t need this right now, so I would appreciate it if you would leave, please. Now. I’ve nothing more to say to you and I’m extremely busy.’
‘Certainly. I’ve said all I wanted to say.’
I follow Tommy to the door, feeling the steam releasing from my ears. How dare he? I’m desperate to ask him more about this cottage. Daniel hadn’t mentioned the cottage other than the other night, he said, in error. Was he implying Daniel’s not been visiting the residential place at all? Or was he
merely making a point about it not being because he was lonely, that he understands something about Daniel I don’t? But I’ll be damned if I’m going to give Mr Know-all here the satisfaction of thinking he understands Daniel better than me. I’m aware of the cottage, the one he’s referring to on top of the cliff. I wouldn’t be too surprised if Daniel does spend time there – it has one of the best views in the area, so I’m told. As I’m closing the door after him, my mobile rings out from the sitting room. I run to catch it, expecting and hoping for it to be Mo. I feel bad for leaving it how we did, all downcast.
But it’s not her, it’s Mark. My stomach flips as I see his face light up the screen. What do I do? What do I say? If I don’t answer it, there’s a chance he’ll turn up here.
‘Mark,’ I say into the handset.
‘I’m so sorry,’ is all I hear. ‘I should have told you, always meant to but the time was never right. Then we were having so many problems, it became even harder.’
For a minute I consider asking him about the note: so did you receive the note referencing you as a stalker, which you obviously are, or were you sending the note to another stalker: we’re playing the same game aren’t we? It could work either way, Mark. Then, I think better of it. What’s the point? He’ll only lie if it is the latter. Either way, I can’t handle him until I’ve thought it through some more, not today, not any time soon. It feels as though the walls are closing in on me by the second.
‘Mark, please. Look, I really believe we need some time apart. I can’t deal with all this right now. I think it best we leave things for a while, then talk, maybe, next week or something. Both of us need time, for different reasons.’ Reluctantly and eventually, Mark kind of agrees.
As soon as I place the mobile on the table, there’s a knock at the front door. This better not be bloody Tommy, come back to make another sanctimonious, point-scoring comment. Horrible, intolerable git. Then I remember Nigel – of course, thank God, it will be Nigel. I rush to the door, swinging it wide open. And gasp. The room begins to spin as my hands automatically fly to my face. Temporarily winded, I manage to cry out, ‘Oh, my God, it’s you. How the hell did you get in here?’
I Know You're There Page 26
