The Night You Left

by Emma Curtis

  This was not her fault. She was as much of a victim as Nick.

  Finally her car pulled out and moved down Burnside Road. She touched her short hair, felt the still sensitive ridge of scar tissue. By the time her case came to trial, she would be pretty again.

  GRACE

  July 2018

  IT’S AMAZING HOW QUICKLY WE RETURN TO AN OUTWARD normality. We kiss as we pass in the corridor, he touches my shoulder, moving me out of the way to get to the mug cupboard, I glance at his size-twelve shoes, kicked off in front of the sofa. Toffee stretches, yawns widely and mooches over to be stroked. The smell of coffee. A sleepy Lottie appearing in the doorway, her hair all mussed, wanting food.

  Wanting to check he’s still there.

  We keep checking, keep pinching ourselves. But that’s the surface. Underneath it’s different; there are currents that are impossible to control with smiles and kisses and reassuring words.

  I glance at my daughter, watching her move between the fridge and the larder cupboard. This is hardest for her. She’s lost the father she adored. Douglas was part of her. I’ve tried to talk to her about it, but she’s rebuffed my efforts. I don’t know if she blames me, or if she blames anyone, all I know is that she’s wounded. She trusted him completely.

  It was the cleaning company who found the vital evidence: Nick’s credit card under the space between the skirting and an uneven bit of wood flooring in Anna’s kitchen. They recognized Nick’s name from the news and contacted the police, who moved with surprising speed, considering their sluggishness up until that moment. It was enough to secure a warrant for Anna’s arrest that afternoon, and a search warrant that eventually placed both Douglas and Nick in the house. Traces of blood spatter were found in Anna’s kitchen. Nick’s blood.

  But that wasn’t what Marsh had called round to discuss that morning. He had come to talk about Angus Moody. He had known nothing about the find at that point. If Anna had allowed me to let him in, he could have told me that Nick was alive, that Nick was coming home. He had known since the end of May but had had to keep it secret because it was imperative that the men involved in Angus’s fraud weren’t alerted to Scotland Yard closing in on them. Marsh had been in danger of unintentionally wrecking everything with his investigation into Nick’s disappearance, hence the reason for its abrupt loss of momentum. He’d had to keep things ticking over, without actually doing anything.

  Nick had regained consciousness in rushing water, caught between the branches of a fallen tree. Somehow, he found the strength to drag himself out. He lay on the bank floating in and out of consciousness, listening to the birds and the river, the rustle of leaves in the breeze. He had staggered through the woods, eventually finding himself behind the Moodys’ swimming pool changing room.

  ‘It was so strange,’ he told me. ‘Because I thought I was sixteen, that somewhere around, the other children were together, hiding from me.’

  He went to the house and knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He remembered where they used to hide a key and let himself in. He was concussed, in shock and delirious and convinced that it was 2000 and he was there with his parents. He had hallucination after hallucination, until it got to the point where he was too scared to sleep.

  ‘It was like the day Izzy drowned was on repeat. Everything I did. Every conversation I had. That moment I woke and she was kissing me, and I reacted like a lunatic. It was torture.’

  He’s not sure how many days passed before things improved. Maybe three. Possibly as many as five.

  ‘I suddenly knew how old I was. I remembered what had happened, the sequence of events, everything.’

  He told me about the menacing text he’d received, only minutes before he went to Anna’s house to confront her.

  ‘They threatened to hurt you and Lottie. I realized that Douglas and Anna had given me an opportunity. For as long as Angus and his associates thought I was dead, you and Lottie would be safe. So I called Scotland Yard and told them everything. They moved me to a safe house, and that’s where I’ve been for the last two months. I was prepared to play dead for as long as it took. I am so sorry to have put you through it. I wanted to contact you so badly, but I couldn’t. Not until now. Then they told me they were planning a dawn raid on Angus’s house, and once I heard that it had been successful, I came straight away. I couldn’t wait another hour.’

  ‘Are you sure we’re safe now?’ I asked.

  ‘Grace, they’ve been named and they’re in custody. Angus knows there’s nothing more I can tell the police. He’s not a killer, he’s just another greedy egotist who thought he was too big to go down.’

  ‘What about Anna?’

  His face clouded. ‘Anna was trying to protect Douglas from me. I can’t blame her for that. I was choking the life out of him. It wasn’t self-defence at that point, it was rage. I honestly believe I would have killed him.’

  I picked at a loose thread in my jeans. ‘Was it because of what he told you about me?’

  ‘No. Grace, I know you. You’re not that woman any more.’ His eyes darkened. ‘Anna accused me of molesting Izzy and Douglas believed her. He said he couldn’t trust me with … That I would lose …’ He squeezed the bridge of his nose. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s all right. I understand. You don’t have to say anything else.’

  ‘Izzy’s death wasn’t entirely Anna’s fault; I played my part too. I want you to know what really happened.’

  He steepled his fingers and pressed them to his forehead.

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘I was watching from an upstairs window and I saw Izzy run down to the end of the gardens and vanish behind the changing rooms, so I went after her and caught up with her at the river. She stood on the bank and screamed at me to get lost. She wasn’t wearing a coat, and she looked like she’d had a bucket of water thrown over her, her hair dripping, her shirt soaked through. We had been mates, but she was yelling these horrible things. I told her to come back to the house, not to be stupid, but she told me to fuck off. It sounded awful coming from her. I turned round, and I walked away, and she went quiet instantly, as if she hadn’t expected that, as if she had wanted me to keep on pleading with her. It was the loneliest silence. That’s what I can’t forgive myself for. I left a child on her own. I should have stayed until she calmed down or someone else came.’ He leaned back with a groan and swept his fingers through his hair. His eyes were hollowed out, blue-shadowed. ‘I can’t get it out of my mind. I wish I could turn the clock back, start again, stay with her.’

  ‘We all have things we can’t escape, things we regret, things we can’t undo. You have to learn to live with it, Nick.’

  ‘I don’t think I ever will, not fully at least.’

  I looked at him closely. He’d been through so much and kept it locked up inside him for so many years. How do you walk away from those thoughts, that kind of torment? I felt inadequate and ill-equipped to help, but I had to, otherwise we would flounder on the irrefutable truths, because, whatever part Anna played, nothing will change the fact that Nick turned his back on Izzy Wells and walked away, any more than I can walk away from the fact that I stabbed Douglas in a jealous rage. There’s something faulty in me too.

  ‘We are what we want to be,’ I murmured.

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Nick, you have to do something. Something you don’t think you have time or headroom for. Something that makes you feel better and squeezes your nightmares into a smaller space.’

  ‘I have both of you.’

  ‘Of course you do, but we’re not enough. There has to be something else. You have to make time to do the things you know you need to do. Listen to your gut.’

  His eyes burn into mine. ‘I wish you’d told me what happened to you.’

  ‘I wish I had, too.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have let that man in the house if I’d known how much he’d hurt you.’

  ‘My scars are emotional, his are physical. I think I’d rat
her have the physical ones.’

  ‘Does he still have a hold over you?’

  ‘No. I have no feelings for Douglas. None at all.’

  Nick sighed with relief. ‘Can we get over this? Because I don’t want to lose you.’

  I smiled and touched his cheek. ‘There’s never been any danger of that.’

  Douglas and Anna are on remand, pending their hearings in January. Both are accused of attempted murder, perverting the course of justice and aiding and abetting. Tim is facing a charge of unlawful sexual activity with a child under the age of sixteen. Anna’s first child is proof of that, but Tim isn’t denying it. He’s seeking to justify it.

  Cora and Tim have been to see us. It took a great deal of tolerance on my part. I had to bite my tongue on numerous occasions. I didn’t tell Nick about their attempts to take the house from me, and nor will I unless they give me a reason to; his father’s treatment of Anna is enough for him to process. Cora was humble when she arrived, although her visceral dislike of me did occasionally peep through the facade. Tim was characteristically unbowed, cheerful and friendly, but refused point blank to discuss that summer. The one thing he did, and for which I’m grudgingly grateful, was persuade Lottie to open up. I don’t know what he said to her, because he won’t tell me, but she now talks about her father and writes to him. I don’t think Douglas will have a long sentence. I certainly don’t think he’s gone for good. The same applies to Tim, if he does any time at all. Anna has the most to atone for, but I expect, after a while, she will begin to see herself as the victim again.

  I look up. Nick is watching me from the door, a half smile on his face.

  ‘What?’ I ask.

  ‘You look pretty.’

  I grin. The thumb of my right hand automatically goes to the solitaire diamond on my ring finger. It still feels unfamiliar, still gives me a happy shock.

  ‘I’ve decided not to go back into banking, Grace.’

  The sense of relief is overwhelming. ‘Good.’

  ‘We’ll have to downsize.’

  ‘I’ll get on to it straight away.’

  He grins. ‘You seem to be taking it well. Are you sure?’

  I look round at my swanky kitchen, at the gleaming units, the wall of glass, the expensive American fridge-freezer and feel no sense of impending loss, just excitement at the prospect of a new adventure.

  ‘I’m happy wherever you are. I’ll find us somewhere, don’t worry. It’s what I do. It’s my idea of fun.’

  ‘I’m applying to train for a Doctorate in Child Psychology.’

  I go to him and plant a kiss on his lips. ‘That’s fantastic. You’ll be brilliant. Are you all set?’

  He looks taken aback, then realizes I’m not expecting him to dash off to his first lecture right now. He puts the folder he’s holding down on the table, opens it and checks the printouts – eTickets, car hire confirmation, hotel confirmation.

  ‘Yep. All set.’

  We’re packed and waiting for our cab. Toffee has gone to Cassie’s, where he’ll be spoilt rotten. Lottie is sitting on the floor at the bottom of the stairs cramming last-minute necessities into her carry-on luggage. It’s time to draw some kind of line. It won’t be perfect, it will have gaps in it, but it’ll exist, nonetheless.

  Even before Nick told me what he was planning, I had already decided that Burnside Road had to go; I was already building up to suggesting he didn’t re-enter the world of banking. He’s not hungry enough and I am not banker’s wife material, and nor will I ever be. This gorgeous house, with its prestigious address and conservation status, has always felt like someone else’s clothes. That woman isn’t me and, above all else, I want to be me; I owe it to the people I love.

  I would like a modest thirties semi like Cassie and Evan have; a bright, laughter-filled home with room enough for one more child, the kind of house my grandmother aspired to; a house that will suit Toffee, my scar-faced mongrel, down to the ground. Nothing is going to take away Nick’s pain, but we’ll do this together. We will move forward and make a good life. It’s my mission.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  This is my third novel and I’m still pinching myself. So the first thank you goes to Transworld Publishers for continuing to believe in me. I am so grateful.

  I would like to thank my brilliant agent, Becky Ritchie, for her support and enthusiasm, and my fantastic editor, Tash Barsby, who has done an amazing job with a complicated plot structure – the next one will be simpler, I promise! Thank you to Tash’s colleagues for reading and picking up on things I missed, and to Hannah Bright for the hard work she’s put into publicizing my books. To Vivien Thompson and the eagle-eyed proofreading team. To the staff at Richmond Waterstones, you have been amazing from the start. Thanks also to Monica Byles for her advice on my chapter plan, to Bella Bosworth, my first reader, and to Oliver Day, whose graphic descriptions of the hypnagogic hallucinations that he’s suffered from since childhood inspired me to write this book. Thanks to the memory of Biff, the extraordinary little rescue dog who Toffee is drawn from; to the PrimeWriters – we go from strength to strength – and the newly inaugurated Psychological Suspense Authors’ Association. Thank you to Dead Good Books and to the book bloggers, reviewers and my friends on Twitter for your continued goodwill. To Steve, Max and Lulu and all my friends and family, I couldn’t do this without you. And last but not least, thank you for those chance conversations that spark ideas. They do say, be careful what you tell an author.

  If you enjoyed this then don’t miss these two other gripping thrillers by Emma Curtis

  WHEN I FIND YOU

  WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN SOMEONE TAKES ADVANTAGE OF YOUR GREATEST WEAKNESS?

  ONE LITTLE MISTAKE

  YOU TRUSTED YOUR BEST FRIEND … YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE.

  And don’t miss the chilling new Emma Curtis thriller

  KEEP HER QUIET

  One night. One fateful act. Four lives changed for ever.

  Jenny has just given birth to the baby she’s always wanted. She’s never been this happy.

  Her husband, Leo, knows this baby girl can’t be his. He’s never felt so betrayed.

  The same night, a vulnerable young woman, Hannah, wakes to find her newborn lifeless beside her. She’s crazed with grief.

  When chance throws Hannah into Leo’s path, they make a plan that will change all of their lives, with shattering consequences.

  Years later, a sixteen-year-old girl reads an article in a newspaper, and embarks on a journey to uncover the truth about herself. But what she learns will put everything she has ever known – and her own life – in grave danger. Because some people will go to desperate lengths to protect the secrets their lives are built on …

  COMING IN SEPTEMBER 2020

  TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS

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  penguin.co.uk

  Transworld is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com.

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Black Swan

  an imprint of Transworld Publishers

  Copyright © Emma Curtis 2019

  Design & photography: mulcaheydesign.com

  Emma Curtis has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781473559790

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