‘That’s one way of putting it, yes. I was very unhappy to learn that—’
‘I thought you might be.’ He interrupts me before I have a chance to finish my sentence. ‘It was a most unfortunate situation. Most unfortunate indeed. Now, you won’t be surprised to hear, I’m sure, that after what happened on Saturday morning we’ve had instructions to remove the property from the market, but I can assure you, we would have terminated our agreement with the vendors in any case. Thankfully, we weren’t put in that position, but I do want you to know we take our clients’ security very seriously at all times.’
‘Well, evidentially not that seriously because—’
‘Ah now, they were exceptional circumstances though, Mrs Davies, I think we can agree on that? I can honestly tell you I’ve never had a vendor become physical with a client like that before, and I hope I never do again. The poor woman was obviously a very disturbed individual, God rest her soul.’
‘Well yes, she – hang on,’ I stop, confused. ‘What do you mean, “God rest her soul?”’
‘Oh, you don’t know? I’m afraid to say Mrs Strallen died last night.’
Chapter Thirteen
He’s not able to tell me anything more than that. Just that they received a phone call from Mr Strallen first thing, who, given the circumstances, instructed them to temporarily withdraw the property from the market and cancel all viewings.
Stunned, I simply thank him for letting me know, and hang up, forgetting to say a single word about their disclosing our address without permission. Not that it matters any more, of course.
I sit there for a moment or two in the driver’s seat, just staring out of the window as James chatters to himself in the back, reading his animal book.
God help me, I feel sheer relief that she is gone, and yet…
Another death.
The woman who burst into Simon’s office all those years ago was so vibrant; colour in her cheeks, joking with me about dumping her dirty coffee cup, and even before that, when I had watched her walk up the hill with Simon, she was so happily holding his hand, secretly knowing that she was expecting their first baby, and that she’d be changing his life for ever that very evening.
And what of that baby now?
Oh poor, poor Cara. She’s only 22! That’s no age to lose a mother, even when I suspect she’s not had one for some time. Lord knows I understand what that’s like, and what Cara will be going through now. Like a light switching on in a dark room, there is a sudden flash in my mind of the horrific scene I found in Mum’s bedroom that afternoon, before I instantly slam it off again. But just as suddenly, another fear slices through me: what if Louise committed suicide too? Oh fuck no. Please, please my walking into her house on Saturday didn’t trigger something that finally resulted in Cara’s mother taking her own life. I never meant for that. I had no idea they lived there!
I start the car, panicked. I have to go and make sure they know that I didn’t mean for this: not just for Simon, not even for Simon, but for Cara’s sake. She was Beth’s friend. I can see them now, sitting on the mat in the classroom together, holding hands, the morning Beth died. Just two little innocent girls. Cara had been crying then, I now remember. Simon had said something about Louise being in a foul mood. Has she actually always been like this, then – a difficult woman? But in my heart of hearts, I know that is not true because I am partly responsible for her becoming the husk of the woman I saw on Saturday, all of that loathing in her yellow eyes.
James is still ill enough to fall asleep after only five minutes of driving, and as the unusual quiet descends, doubts begin to creep into my undistracted mind; the sensibilities of driving over like this out of the blue, and my motives for doing so. The closer I get, the more anxious I start to feel. Cara is not Beth. Of course I feel a connection, but… I breathe out… she is not my daughter. She was my daughter’s friend many, many years ago, for less than a term. I’m not going for Simon – I know that’s not true. So really, is this to assuage my own guilt?
I ought to change course now, and simply go straight to my in-laws.
And yet even knowing that I shouldn’t be doing this, still I keep on driving, moth to a flame, eventually turning into Thrent Avenue. I cannot stop thinking of the girls sitting together, holding hands.
* * *
Pulling up right outside the house, I look at it worriedly. The upstairs curtains are drawn and it all looks every bit as closed off as it did the day before yesterday. I glance in the back at James – who is now snoring gently. Leaving the engine and heater running, I softly open my door, and shivering in my thin jersey top, climb out and push it to – but not completely shut. I quickly rush round to the other side and open the passenger door, before going back to close mine properly. I have a horror of James getting locked in the car. I don’t have long before he senses the car motion has stopped and wakes up… I’m only going to be a matter of seconds anyway. I hasten up the short path to the front door and knock hurriedly, before turning back so I can check James is still safe.
The door opens with that juddering thud again, and I half glance behind me so I can at least acknowledge the person who has answered.
‘Jess? What on earth are you doing here?’ Simon looks astonished – and absolutely terrible. In complete contrast to Saturday, gone is the suave suit and crisp white shirt. He’s wearing a pair of old-man jeans with a brown belt, and a button-down bottle green sweatshirt. The skin on his face is saggy with exhaustion, black and grey pepper stubble prickling over his chin. He looks like an exclusive wine club advert gone wrong.
‘I called the estate agent,’ I blurt. ‘And they told me about Louise. I’m so sorry, Simon.’
‘Thank you.’ His eyes fill with tears. ‘Ignore me,’ he whispers. ‘It’s the shock.’
I glance back at the car and then to Simon again. ‘Of course it is. You must be devastated. I mean… on Saturday, she seemed… so full of energy.’ I trail off lamely, not knowing how to continue.
‘It’s all my fault, Jess,’ he says suddenly. ‘She was fine. Well, as fine as she ever is… was.’ He corrects himself. ‘Until I got home after seeing you on Saturday night.’
My heartbeat momentarily slows and I just stare at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She didn’t tell me about you coming here, and I didn’t let on I knew, but after what you said about her threatening you seventeen years ago…’ He takes a deep breath. ‘All this time I’ve thought you left because you didn’t love me, and you didn’t come back because you didn’t want to. I could handle that. I was pleased it meant you were happy again. But to discover that was a lie, and Louise was responsible… I was angry. I was very, very angry. I came home and confronted her with what you’d told me. First she denied it, but then asked how I knew. I told her I’d just seen you. She went crazy at that and said she was glad she’d done it, and she wished she had killed you.’
I swallow, starting to feel a bit nauseous.