“Yes, but…” I struggle to explain. “I don’t want him to think I only care about its financial value. The trouble is, I do need the money.” And I don’t want to make him more contemptuous of me than he already is, I think but don’t say out loud.
“It says so much about you that this is even a dilemma, Jane. Most people wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.” Simon smiles. The tension he displayed just now when I talked about Edward and the pearls has vanished. Why was he so tense? What did he think I was going to say?
Then something occurs to me—something tiny, but completely obvious.
If Simon’s right and my necklace is the one Edward previously gave Emma, one of the strings will have one less pearl than the others. But looking at it now, it seems to me that each string is exactly the same.
I run my fingers over the top string, counting quickly. Twenty-four pearls.
The second string also has twenty-four pearls.
So does the third.
Edward was telling the truth. The necklace he gave me wasn’t the one he gave Emma after all. The scenario Simon described, in which Edward killed Emma, then picked up all but one of the loose pearls, never happened.
Unless it was Simon.
The thought floats into my brain, fully formed. What if it all happened just as Simon said…but to him, not Edward?
You have no proof, I tell myself.
But suddenly I feel a whole lot less happy about having this man spend the night here.
Something else occurs to me. There have been no technical malfunctions at One Folgate Street while Simon’s here. The water flows from the taps, the stove works, even Housekeeper stays unlocked. Why is that?
Unless he was somehow causing it all?
Thiel had looked shamefaced when I confronted him. But he’d also looked puzzled. And he’d said something about a problem.
Was he only embarrassed because he knew someone else had accessed One Folgate Street’s systems?
Have I been getting this all wrong?
14. I try not to let people know what I am really thinking.
Agree ? ? ? ? ? Disagree
NOW: JANE
“Jane? Are you all right?” Simon’s watching me closely.
“Yes.” I shake myself and give him a little smile. “It was sweet of you to come. Though actually there was no need to bring a bag. My friend Mia just texted. She’s going to stay the night.”
“Doesn’t Mia have kids? And a husband?” His tone is solicitous.
“Yes, but—”
“Well, there you go. They need her. And I’m here now. Besides, it’ll be like old times.”
“Old times? How?” I say, confused.
He gestures. “You and me. Here, together.”
“That’s not old times, Simon.”
His smile doesn’t waver. “But not far off. For me, anyway.”
“Simon…” I don’t know how to say this. “I’m not Emma. I’m nothing like her.”
“Of course not. You’re a better person than she was, for one thing.”
I pick up my phone from the table.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I should really put the necklace back upstairs,” I lie.
“I’ll do it.” He holds out his hand. “You’re pregnant. You should be taking it easy.”
“Not that pregnant.” I suddenly think of something else. Most people think a small amount of alcohol is okay at around fifteen weeks. How does he know how many weeks I am?
I start to move past him. He keeps his hand out, but I ignore him.
“Careful on those stairs!” he calls, watching me. I force myself to slow down, acknowledging the warning with a wave.
Apart from the hall, the only place in One Folgate Street with a door is the cleaner’s cupboard. I slip inside, wedging it shut with brooms and mops.
I try Mia first. Call Failed.
“Shit,” I say aloud. “Bloody shit.”
Edward Monkford. Call Failed.
999.
Call Failed.
Looking at the screen, I see there’s no signal. With some difficulty, I hoist myself into the roof space and hold the phone up as high as I can. No signal here, either.
“Jane?” It’s Simon’s voice, calling up from downstairs. “Jane, are you all right?”
“I need you to go away, Simon,” I shout back. “I’m not feeling well.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll call a doctor.”
“Please don’t. I just need to rest.”
I hear his voice getting louder as he comes upstairs. “Jane? Where are you? Are you in the bathroom?”
I don’t reply.
“Knock knock…No, not in the bathroom. Are we playing hide-and-seek?”
The door of the cupboard creaks as he pushes it from outside.
“Found you,” he says happily. “Come on out now, babe.”
NOW: JANE
“I’m not going to come out,” I say through the door.
“This is stupid. I can’t talk to you in there.”
“Simon, I want you to go. Or I’ll call the police.”
“How? I’ve got a gadget that blocks cellphone signals. Wi-Fi too.”
I don’t reply. I’m slowly realizing this is even worse than I thought. He’s planned this.
“All I wanted was to be with you,” he adds. “But you still prefer Monkford to me, don’t you?”
“What’s Monkford got to do with it?”