Weary, Laura cleared away the cups and saw the Florentine had gone. He must have swiped it on the way out. She sat down heavily on the sofa. Abandoned. Alone. The creeping fear that now permeated every time she was left with her thoughts started up again. She knew Cherry had picked the cocker spaniel deliberately because of the dog she’d had as a child. The puppy was as much for her as her actress. What else had she said, revealed many months ago in front of this girl? She’d never remember, never know, unless Cherry decided to remind her.
Laura’s life suddenly felt very unstable. It could be picked apart, interrupted. She’d gone into the office earlier that day and looked around for missing papers, cast contact lists, locking some documents away and shredding others. Then she’d deleted some emails, things she wouldn’t like other people reading. She’d wondered if Cherry could hack into her email account, her company server – these things were supposed to be the realm of the young, computer-savvy kid, like that boy who hacked into the Pentagon computer system. She’d quickly got on to her IT company and they’d tried to reassure her, but she’d insisted on a higher level of security. The sense she was being followed had intensified. When she’d left her office to hail a cab, she’d stopped at a shop window, pretending to look in, then turned her head sharply to see if anyone was watching her.
Now, Laura quickly got up, double-checked she’d bolted the front door on her way to the kitchen. Her mind was still full of the puppy. Who in their right mind would send a dead animal to someone? It was then she realized she must have killed it herself or packaged it alive, and in horror she stopped still, a chill running down her spine. Cherry had no fear of anything, of being caught, of what she was prepared to do. She was ruthless and her revenge was palpable. Nothing tempered her; nothing could stop her. She seemed to have no moral boundaries, and her brain was lightning-quick, devious and imaginative. She’d made sure that none of it could be traced back to her.
Laura was suddenly afraid for what was left. What else did she care about that Cherry was planning to take from her? Her mind went off in all directions, spasming from one horror to the next. She reached for the phone. She couldn’t call Daniel or Howard. It had to be Isabella.
FORTY-EIGHT
Tuesday 3 November
Laura followed Isabella into her kitchen and stood there nervously, knowing she didn’t have long, as Isabella had to leave for the Cotswolds later that afternoon. When she’d phoned, it had been a bit awkward between them. They hadn’t spoken since she’d gone over to apologize. And then Isabella had said she was going away – for what seemed to Laura to be a very long week. The thought of another seven days of being imprisoned in her house, fearful of every knock on the door and every lonely night, her mind turning somersaults as it tried to work out the unknown, was too much to bear. She’d begged to come over.
‘Cup of tea? Or something stronger? I can’t, as I’m driving.’
‘How is your mother?’
‘Complaining that the doctors are trying to kill her, but at least she’s taking her medication. George has had enough and it’s my turn to babysit. Then my darling brother can take over again, especially seeing as he only lives next door, albeit a Land Rover ride away, and I don’t believe for one second his trip to Strasbourg is “crucial” to his “election success”. So, builder’s? Mint? Camomile?’
‘Yes, please.’
Isabella was going to ask which, but Laura had turned away and was looking out of the huge glass bi-fold doors that led onto a sunken white minimalist garden.
‘You ever feel exposed? As if someone could get in?’
‘Darling, it might be large and worth six mill, but it’s still a terrace. I’m enclosed on all sides.’
Laura turned back to accept the cup of camomile and noticed her hands were jittery.
‘Want to tell me about it?’ said Isabella.
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Sit down.’
She did, grateful that someone else was taking control of the situation. She twisted her cup in her fingers, trying to phrase what it was she knew she had to say.
‘I don’t want to rush you, but if I don’t get up to Mother’s before evening, she’ll be calling the randy colonel at the end of the lane and asking him to send out his helicopter.’
‘A few days ago, I heard from ITV that my – our project has been cancelled.’
‘What?’
‘Izzy, this is going to sound bonkers . . . horrendous . . . Oh God, I’m not losing the plot, but you might think so when you hear what I’m about to tell you.’
‘Go on.’
‘I’ve been afraid to say . . .’
‘You can tell me anything,’ said Isabella softly.
‘Promise not to judge.’
‘Course.’
Laura looked at her; it had been a throwaway promise to continue the conversation. Now she had her attention, she didn’t know where to start. She fiddled with her cup, and then suddenly, unexpectedly, she started to cry. Almost as soon as the first tear made a run for it, she pulled herself together, quickly retrieving a clean handkerchief from her bag.
Izzy put out a comforting hand. ‘What is it? Laura?’
‘Cherry’s back.’
Izzy sat up. ‘Back in what sense?’
‘She’s living with Daniel. I said something to her months ago that wasn’t true. It made her go away, but then she found out I’d lied and she wanted him back. He invited her to move in with him. Meanwhile, to punish me for what I said, she’s told me she’s going to take everything away from me. Daniel’s not answering my calls, Howard wants a divorce, and a few days ago I found that she’d sent a dead puppy to the lead actress on my new project. My salvation project.’
Isabella’s mouth was ever so slightly open as she took all this in, a growing incredulous outrage on her friend’s behalf.
‘A dead puppy? What in heaven’s name did you say to her?’
‘I told her Daniel had died. While she was away in Mexico. She came back and I didn’t want her to see him. I phoned her up when she’d come off the plane and I told her he was dead. And she couldn’t see him as we’d cremated him and scattered the ashes.’
Isabella was still trying to smile some encouragement, but the corners of her mouth twitched and fell. Laura saw confusion in her friend’s eyes, along with disbelief.
‘You said you wouldn’t judge.’
‘No! I’m not,’ said Isabella quickly.
‘At the time . . . I thought he was dying. I thought he only had a few days left.’
‘And then . . . ?’
‘I’d found out a few things . . . stuff she said and it was pretty clear to me she’d attached herself to him because of his money. So . . . I kept quiet.’
Laura waited for Isabella to speak. ‘Say something . . .’
‘I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe . . . I mean, I can understand you wanting some time with Daniel, but, Laura . . .’
Laura’s head fell into her hands. ‘Oh God, don’t, don’t . . . I’ve made such a mess of things.’
‘OK, OK. It’s fine. We can fix this.’
‘Can we? How?’
‘What you did . . . was appalling. But I remember how terrible it was for you, how desperate the situation was. What does Daniel think about this?’ asked Isabella carefully.