I wait until the flat is completely silent. My heart thumps. My mouth is dry. He will be there, he will be there, I tell myself. He won’t let me down. I push my covers back and quietly stand. I don’t put my shoes on yet. They can wait until I’m out of the flat and in the corridor.
I gather my things and check my pockets for my money before creeping out the front door.
This is it, I think. And then I’m gone.
33
MARILYN
‘Look. There. You see?’ Richard holds the magazine out in front of me. ‘She’s done it.’ Mrs Goldman, the old bird who lives – lived – next door to Lisa stares out at me from the cover. She looks frail. Did someone bully her into this? It’s a lurid magazine, the gossipy kind found in dentists’ and doctors’ waiting rooms, and aimed at the more ‘settled’ woman than Closer or Heat. I glance at the headline above the photo of Mrs Goldman on her front step: Charlotte Nevill’s neighbour tells all – the secret life of the child killer. I take the magazine and drop it on the side, flicking to the relevant page. A quote stands out. I always knew she was odd. A loner.
‘It’s bullshit,’ I say, turning away to stir my coffee. ‘And she should be ashamed of herself. Lisa used to buy her bloody shopping for her, and add extra treats. She checked on Mrs Goldman more than her own family ever did.’
‘That’s not the point.’ I hear it then. The anvil hardness. He’s running out of patience with me and playing nice hasn’t worked. ‘If she can peddle this shit to a national magazine, we can probably up the Mail’s offer. It’s your story they all want. You knew her best.’
‘Given how things stand, I’d say I didn’t really know her at all.’ I don’t have time for this. I have to go to work so I slide past – gently does it – to get my coat and feel the tension radiating from him as he tries to keep his rage under control.
‘I don’t understand why you won’t do it.’ He follows me into the corridor. ‘It’s money for nothing. It could sort all our financial problems out.’
Not my problems, I want to say. Yours. ‘It’s not for nothing. It’s dirty. Sleazy. You’ve always said that about anyone who sells a story yourself.’
‘It’s like you’re protecting her,’ he growls. ‘Always defending her.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘You did it just then. About the old woman.’
I pause at the front door. ‘I wouldn’t want Ava to read it. Me talking about them for money. She has no one to trust at the moment.’
‘You’re never going to see her again so why does it matter! Why can’t you get that into your thick head?’
I let the front door slam behind me. There are still a couple of reporters – for want of a better word – dirt-diggers, maybe – loitering at the end of the drive, but I don’t look at them, let alone answer as they call out to me. I get in my car, put my sunglasses on, and drive – too fast for our 20 mph speed limit – until I’m free of them.
If only it was so easy to escape all of it. I think about the ￡40,000 the Daily Mail have offered. Richard said they got in touch with him, but he hasn’t knocked so much sense out of me this year I’d buy that. He called them, of course he did, and told them all about Lisa and me and our friendship and how much insight I’d have into her day-to-day life. His face was a picture when I said no. He couldn’t believe it. Especially when he realised how powerless he was in this. No one wants his story – it’s not worth a fraction of mine. How did I ever think this man was love? Even in the early days, when I’d help him with his work, study the shapes and spaces of houses with him, give him ideas for clients, I should have known it would come to this eventually. Why are you wearing red lipstick? Who are you wearing it for? The little accusations should have been my first clue, so many years ago.
My phone starts ringing. Him. I let it ring out and when I stop at the traffic lights I send a short text: I’ll think about it. I really should think about it. I don’t owe Lisa anything, and Ava probably isn’t looking at the papers anyway. Given everything else, I doubt it would matter to her. But it would matter to me. I’m angry at Mrs Goldman, because she should know better. She’s lonely. I hear the words in Lisa’s voice. She’s probably just enjoying the attention. At least she can afford a cake now and then after this. I shut the voice down. Lisa doesn’t get to be Mother Teresa in my head now. She’s the fucking problem. Even now she’s gone I’m still left carrying the can for her.
The atmosphere in the office is different and I feel it before I reach my desk. They’re all slightly hyper, like young pups let off a leash. A pack for sure, and one I’m not quite part of any more. Stacey glances my way, as does Toby, and the noise settles as my arrival registers.
‘What?’ I ask. ‘Have I missed something? I’ll have a coffee, if you’re making, Emily. Thank you.’ All bright smiles as I throw my handbag down under my desk. Unfazeable Marilyn. Confronting things head on.
‘It’s about Lisa or Charlotte or whatever,’ Julia says, after a Mexican wave of knowing glances passes around the room. I bristle. What now?
‘Oh yes?’
She perches on the edge of my desk, proprietorial. ‘Well, we all went for a drink last night, and Penny said—’
‘Penny?’ I cut in before I can stop myself.
‘We thought she needed a break from everything.’ She says we but she means I. She is teacher’s pet, after all.
‘That was nice of you.’ My tone matches hers, sweetness and light, although my heart is racing. They all went to the pub without me. Worse, Penny said no to me but yes to them. Sure, it could be that she simply changed her mind, but it doesn’t ring true. She’s not comfortable with me any more. I’m too close.
‘Anyway, Penny said money has been going missing from the petty cash. She thinks Lisa took it.’
‘Really?’ It all plays out behind my eyes. Julia buying wine, Penny drinking too quickly, needing to relax, and then opening her big mouth.
‘You didn’t know about the money?’
She’s good. She knows I know. ‘Oh, I know about the money.’ This is my shot across her bow, a hint of accusation in my tone, and I don’t know if it’s my imagination but I’m sure I see a flash of something in her eyes. Careful, I tell myself. How much do you actually care? ‘Penny told me.’
‘Did you ever see Lisa do anything suspicious?’
They’re all listening now, little flicks of heads in my direction. What else was discussed last night? Me, obviously, but in what capacity? What conclusions did they draw? What path did Julia lead them down, the sneaky little thieving bitch? The aggression in my thought shocks me into acknowledging that I believe what Lisa said. Julia is a wolf among sheep in our office.
‘No. If I had, I’d have said something.’
‘Of course you would.’ She smiles, the slashes of blood red on her lips highlighting her perfectly white teeth. Bleached, no doubt. Another trick to appear youthful. Lisa wasn’t wrong about that either.
The blinds in Penny’s office are shut and I wonder if it’s because she’s hiding from them or me or all of us. Maybe she’s got a hangover. Whichever, I can’t believe how ready she is to lay the guilt at Lisa’s door. She’s a child-killer, I want to storm in there and tell her. Not a bloody petty thief.
‘I suppose we’ll find out soon enough if she had money problems,’ Julia purrs. ‘It’s all coming out in the news.’
My stomach knots. What if they find out Richard has dug me into a financial hole and we’re living off credit cards? Will that make me suspect number one? ‘Or maybe she did it just because she could?’ I say. Julia’s smile twists, triumphant. She knows what I’m doing. Trying to worm my way back in by agreeing with them. How will they react if I do what Richard wants and sell my story? My job would be over. Would anyone else hire me? A woman in her forties in this job climate who tells all for cash?
‘Marilyn Hussey?’
I hear my name being called before I’ve even noticed the man and woman standing a few feet away from my desk. The office falls silent, everyone alert and watching.
‘Yes?’ All professional as I die a little inside. What now?