Three For A Girl (Isabel Fielding Book 3)

by Sarah A. Denzil

  “You’re right for him, you know.” He grins. “Mum won’t admit it. In fact, Mum probably won’t think it, either. But you are. You see the thing is, he wouldn’t stand up to her before. He wouldn’t have stood up to Dad or me either. But you’ve given him a spark, you know.”

  “Is that a good thing, though?”

  “It makes him a pain in the neck, but it’s a good thing.”

  “Thanks for saying that.”

  “Not a problem.” His grin broadens. “When are you two going to make it official then?”

  “What?”

  “When are you going to join the family for real? How long has it been now? Two years? It’s about time, isn’t it?”

  My face flushes bright red. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

  “The barn’s all set up ready for when you do know.” He taps his forehead with two fingers in a salute. “Right. I’d best get back to it.”

  When he leaves, I can’t help but mull over his words, both about whether I’m a positive influence on Seb, and whether we’ll ever get married. I’m still undecided about both.

  About half an hour after Josh leaves the shop, I have the phone call from the doctor’s office. I’m pregnant.

  ***

  “Tom texted me about giving him a reference,” Seb says as we take plates of cheese and crackers into the lounge. “They’ve found a flat, apparently.”

  “He texted you?” I lean over to read the message.

  “It makes sense,” he says. “He’ll need a reference from someone who isn’t family.

  “But I didn’t even know they were looking at a place today.” Yet another secret.

  “He’ll tell you later. He knows I’ll tell you anyway, so it’s not like he’s trying to keep anything from you.”

  All this talk of secrets makes my heart thud. Seb has no idea that I’m keeping the biggest secret of all from him. And now it’s official, I’m pregnant with my second child, only this time the child was made from love rather than hate. Whether that makes a difference, I just don’t know. Seb starts flicking through the channels on the TV, his plate balanced on his knees. I think about my secret, and then I think about my dream. Little baby Tom with those black pools for eyes. I regret what I said to him in the car, that our father’s genes are being passed on. I made it seem like I agreed with him, that I do believe he inherited them. That can’t have helped him, especially after what I heard him say at the group meeting.

  I wish I didn’t believe we weren’t both damaged by what may have been passed on from our parents. I wish I didn’t hold that in my heart, but I do. I turn to Seb, to the father of my unborn baby, and his brother’s words come back to me. That loving, dysfunctional family of his. My baby will be half them, half me.

  “I’m pregnant.” The words spill out of my mouth like overflowing liquid. Fast. Bullet quick.

  He drops the remote and stares at me, his face impassive for what feels like an age. Then he takes my plate, puts it on top of his, and dumps them both on the coffee table. He covers my hands with his. He pulls me into him.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I went to the doctors,” I say. “That’s why I’ve been throwing up.”

  His body relaxes against mine. “Leah, I’m so happy.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course I am!” He kisses me and then pulls back. “But what about you? How are you feeling?”

  “Tired,” I admit. “Scared. Unprepared. Like having this baby might not be the right thing to do.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asks, gently squeezing my hands.

  “Me. My family.” I shake my head, trying not to break down. “I don’t believe in evil. I think we’re formed by genetics and our own experiences. But I’ve seen a lot of what other people would describe as evil and most of it has come from my father. He was horrible and violent. What he did to me was the worst thing anyone could do to another person. He violated me and killed someone I love. And now I have to face up to the thing that’s worse than that.”

  Seb strokes my hair. “What?”

  “That I’m like him. I’m ill, Seb. I have a psychological illness. Without my medication, I hallucinate and hear voices. With it, I can live a normal life, but there’s still something other about it. I’m capable of violence—”

  “You’re one of the gentlest people I know,” he says, almost laughing at me.

  I pull slightly away. “You’ve never been there at the worst moments of my life. You haven’t felt someone else’s blood on your hands. When I held Isabel’s face underwater, I felt powerful and full of rage. You’ve never seen me like that.”

  “Leah, those were extraordinary circumstances.”

  “I know, but there’s more.”

  His eyes are open and wide and completely full of love for me. “You can tell me anything.”

  “When Tom and I were in witness protection on the Scottish border, Alison Findlay was murdered by Isabel Fielding. The night Alison Findlay died, I remember washing blood from my hands when I was sleepwalking. I don’t know where I went that night. I don’t know what I was doing. Alison Findlay was a therapist who used our local support centre. She was killed close to where we lived. And that night I washed blood from my hands that wasn’t mine.” I take a shaky breath, baffled by my own words. The words that have been locked inside for so long. “What if it was me?”

  Seb stands up so quickly that it shocks me. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not a murderer, Leah.”

  “Wherever I go, people die. My mother, Isabel’s father, Alison Findlay, and then Jess.”

  “You’re not a killer, Leah.”

  “That’s exactly what Isabel said to me before I pushed her off a cliff. I stabbed her in the neck and then I held her head underwater until she almost died. I honestly don’t know what I’m capable of. And now I might have to stop taking my medication so that I don’t hurt my baby. Who will I even be without the antipsychotics keeping me sane?”

  “Leah, you did not murder Alison Findlay, and you did not kill Jess. This is all Isabel’s influence. She’s been targeting you for so long that you’re doubting your own sanity again. But you’re not a murderer. You’ve been pushed to the brink a few times, and in those situations you’ve reacted exactly the same way anyone else would under that kind of pressure.” He sits back down and takes my hands again.

  “Then where did that blood come from?”

  “It was a nightmare.”

  I shake my head, disappointed that he doesn’t believe me. “My clothes were stained the next day.”

  Seb hangs his head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you have to accept that this was another hallucination.”

  “You mean like I thought James Gorden’s head was a hallucination?” I snap. “Stop patronising me.”

  “I’ll never believe that you could murder someone in cold blood,” he says. “If there was blood, then there’s another explanation for it.”

  “What explanation?”

  His jaw twitches and he turns away. “I have one suspicion.”

  “Tell me.” I have to physically move his face to make him look at me again. “Tell me.”

  “This happened when you were living alone with Tom and you were both going to the same place for your exercise classes and therapy.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Tom will have also seen this woman.”

  My body goes cold. “No.”

  “He killed David Fielding. You told me about how he used the magpies to mess with your mind. He was violent with you and he left you recovering from a stab wound in hospital and disappeared.”

  “He couldn’t.”

  “He could.”

  “Get out.” Before Seb can say another word I’m on my feet backing away from the sofa. “He’s my son.”

  “And a very damaged young man. I don’t want to be saying this. But I can tell by your reaction that you’ve considered it as well.”

  “Shut up.” I rake my finger
s through my hair, dig the nails into my scalp. What Seb’s saying is completely ludicrous. If Tom killed Alison, then he must have put blood on my hands and set me up to make me think I did it. Surely, he wouldn’t be so cruel? No one could be that cruel.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone,” he says, standing, coming towards me. “I’m sorry I had to say this, but you didn’t kill Alison Findlay. That’s not you.”

  I close my eyes and all I can see is Tom standing over Jess, staring at her naked body. No. No no no no no no…

  “Leah. Come on. Sit down and breathe, okay?”

  “Please leave,” I say, staring at the carpet. “I… I can’t look at you right now.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tom

  The flat is perfectly nice, with a small but functional open plan kitchen-diner. There’s a separate room for the lounge, unusual for a one-bedroom apartment, and the view shows green pastures and dotty stone walls. Sweet, picturesque Hutton. Nothing bad could ever happen here. Could it? But being in this flat makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Wherever I go I can’t breathe. The cottage is even worse with Leah and Seb there. The meetings are probably the one place I can relax.

  I don’t want to, but I write down Seb’s contact details on the application form. It’s obvious that he’s not my biggest fan, but a local name on my reference will go a long way. As I put down the pen, I notice Dominic looking at me from the corner of my eye.

  “I’ll give you both a moment,” the estate agent says. “Enjoy the space. Get a feel for it.” She opens her arms in a dramatic gesture. Every second of this viewing has been the estate agent trying to illicit a response from us. I return another thin smile, the same ones I’ve been doing all day.

  “It’s okay,” Dominic says.

  My attention snaps back to him. “What?”

  “You’re earning enough to live here alone. I think you should take it without me.”

  He’s noticed the slow withdrawal; I didn’t know if he had or not. When I first met Dom, he was this bright, innocent guy who had lived a relatively sheltered life until he came out. There was no dark past or hidden agenda. He hadn’t known violence until he met me.

  “Dom…” I start.

  He sniffs. “I didn’t get the job.”

  My heart sinks, I’d forgotten all about it.

  “Sorry, I completely…”

  “Forgot. I know. Because you don’t love me anymore. But it’s okay, I’m fine with it now. At least I won’t have to deal with your temper tantrums when I leave.”

  I hang my head in shame, but part of me feels like it’s an act, that there’s nothing inside me. No emotions, no remorse. “Where will you go?” I ask. “Back to your parent’s place?”

  “No.” He brushes away a few tears. “Not unless I want to be told I’m an abomination again. I have a cousin with a spare room. I guess I’ll go there.”

  Is he expecting more from me? Some sort of protest? A declaration of love? All I can muster is a feeble, “I’ll miss you.”

  He shakes his head and leaves some words unspoken. It’s for the best. We’re both thinking it. I don’t blame him either because I don’t give much to him. And I’ve hurt him, both emotionally and physically.

  “I’m sorry it happened today, at this moment. I should have known to…” Do it earlier. I don’t say it, but we both know this has happened because I didn’t have the balls to dump him first.

  “Better now than five years down the line,” Dominic says. “Will you say goodbye to Leah for me? She’s been so kind to me.” He gets up from the sofa and pushes his phone into his jeans pocket. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened to you, but you need to stop blaming her for it all. You’re lucky to have her as a mother.”

  I slowly nod my head. He has a warm, sensitive heart, but he has no idea what I’ve been going through.

  “Take care, Dom, okay?”

  He leaves, the same way as the estate agent. When she comes back into the room, I explain to her that I’ll be taking the apartment alone.

  ***

  By the time I get back to the cottage, Dom has already taken his things. I find Leah in bed, awake, but staring at the ceiling.

  “Dom just left.”

  At the sound of my voice she sits up in bed, her body moving so fast that for a moment I think she’s having a seizure. She places her hand to her heart and takes a deep breath.

  “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in.”

  She shakes her head. Then she seems to register what I said. “Wait, what do you mean Dom left?”

  “We broke up.”

  She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “You did? Oh no.” There’s a queer note to her voice. It sounds far away as though she’s completely distracted.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I guess I saw it coming. I probably should’ve broken it off before now.”

  Her eyes narrow in confusion. “I thought you were both in love.”

  “I did, too, for a while. But maybe we’re better as friends.”

  “Are you going to stay in touch?” she asks. I get the impression that she’s testing me, analysing my answers.

  “To be honest, we didn’t discuss it. It all happened quite quickly.”

  “Perhaps you’re in shock,” she mutters, almost to herself.

  “Yeah, maybe. One minute we’re signing a contract for the flat, the next we’re breaking up.”

  Leah breaks out of whatever spell she was under and opens her arms. “Here, sorry, have a hug.”

  I fold into her and it feels strange. Who is this woman to me? Is she my mother, sister, friend? It doesn’t feel right being trapped inside her embrace, it’s like there are snakes wrapping around my neck, squeezing the air out of me. That’s what I could do to her right now. I could wrap my hands around her neck and keep going until her eyes bulge out and she squirms beneath me. I could watch the light fade from her eyes and then all my problems would be over. Because she’s the one I want to kill, isn’t she? Alison Findlay was a nothing. Leah is the one I want to murder. My mother. The person who gave me life, but who lied to me. Who left me in that house with him knowing who he was and what he was capable of.

  She gasps when I retract away from her, and she cowers away. I can’t stop thinking about the night she interrupted my nightmare and I tried to hurt her. I’d hated the expression of fear on her face, and I hate it now, because it’s a reflection of me, of my soul, of the piece of crap I’ve grown up to be.

  “I’ve found a place.” My voice sounds flat even to me. “I’ll move in tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” she says, still staring at me like I’m the devil. “I… I’ll miss you.”

  She’s lying again.

  God, there’s another baby inside her.

  I turn around and walk out of the room. There’s another life. She’ll love this child; not like she hates me. I walk into my room across the hall and begin tearing down all those band posters that I used to love. The last reminder of my childhood, of the boy I used to be. That boy didn’t fight back when Dad would scream and punch. I screw the thick paper into balls. Leah all but admitted to me that she thinks Dad’s genes have passed down to us. She thinks I’m a fuck up. She’s scared of me. She knows who I am. I’m the devil.

  She’ll love that baby more than she loves me, and that’s not fair. I was the one who took care of her when she was ill. I watched her sleepwalk. I saw her obsession with Isabel. I was the child she abandoned.

  The sooner I’m away from her the better.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Isabel

  Hi Leah, I’m back. Does it bring you comfort to know that I am back where I belong, in good old Blighty? I cheered to myself when I breathed in the air for the first time. When the shipping container opened up, and I saw the familiar grey sky, I knew I was home.

  Ah, Leah, it feels delightful to be talking to you again. I had a break for a w
hile, because I had other things to worry about, but it feels like the right time to bring you into my thoughts, to hold you close, to figure out what I’m going to do with you.

  Shall I tell you about my adventure? Well, after I killed my uncle, I discovered that he’d kept a lovely safe filled with interesting things. We guessed the passcode right away because the poor man had no imagination. It was our Daddy’s birthday. Owen and I paid dear old Uncle’s associates to get us out of that god-awful country and back here. We managed to persuade his second-in-command to dispose of the body. No one will miss my uncle, but especially not the man who gets to inherit his business.

  We knew we couldn’t fly into the UK, even with our fake passports, but they did get us to Greece, and from there we’ve been stowed away in lorries and shipping containers until we made it back. Owen didn’t enjoy it at all. No toilets, not much food, and a couple of screaming children. But we made it. We’re refugees in our own country.

  Once we arrived in Felixstowe there was an awkward moment with one of the traffickers who recognised me. The man was clever enough to keep his mouth shut, but I knew from the glint in his eye that he was going to be a songbird.

  We waited until night. We made it quick. And it allowed us to take a car. But we’ve had to remain in the shadows. As you know, this is not the best way to live, especially for Owen, who is quite the uptight princess. So, we decided to come and visit lovely Mummy, driving the songbird’s car all the way up to Rotherham.

  “What are you doing here? Did anyone see you?” Mum said when she saw us on the doorstep.

  “It’s 2am, Mummy, what do you think?” Owen rolled his eyes.

  “What if I’d had a maid living here? What if I had a… a… friend.”

  Owen and I both laughed at that. Perhaps it was rude, but we couldn’t help ourselves.

  “Get in, quick. The police still monitor the house every now and then.”