Chapter 55
Lucy knows she’s got the easy part of the job, sitting in a hotel room until she’s picked up, but her anxiety is going through the roof, her imaginings darker and darker.
She’s desperate to leave, but it’s impossible.
She’s got to wait. She reads through Rachel’s phone number again and again until the number is fixed in her brain, but there’s no point calling it.
Realistically, she knows she’s going to have to spend the night here, but as the light fades, her mood plummets, and her sleep is restless and full of nightmares.
She’s so relieved to see Rachel the following day that she bursts into tears as soon as she hears the knock on the door, only just resisting the temptation to throw herself on to Rachel’s neck and hug her half to death.
‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but I had to pick up Edgar’s car from town, then drop stuff with Edgar’s sister for Rowan. The poor baby wouldn’t settle for hours, and I ended up falling asleep too. You all right?’ Rachel says, looking at Lucy’s bad arm.
Lucy’s fashioned a sling from a pillowcase. ‘It’s not as bad as it was yesterday,’ she says. ‘I don’t think it’s broken.’
‘Thank God for that. The last thing we need right now is a visit to A and E,’ Rachel says. She looks around the room. ‘Luxurious as this is, I think we’d better make a move back.’
Lucy’s ready to go. She follows Rachel out to the car park.
‘My neighbours are very worried about car thieves in our street now,’ Rachel says, unlocking the car.
Lucy gets in. ‘Why?’
‘I had to report my Mini as stolen after the crash. The police came round this morning. They’d traced the vehicle back to me and wanted to see if I knew who was driving.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Lucy says. ‘I did my best.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ Rachel says, reversing the SUV smartly out of its tight space and manoeuvring round the car park to the exit. ‘You were lucky it was no worse.’
Lucy is picking at the skin around her nails. ‘Are the police after us? Anna and me?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Rachel says. They emerge on to the motorway opposite the site of the accident. Lucy peers over, trying to see if there’s any trace of the crash. Nothing she can see from here, although there must still be debris, bits of broken glass scattered along the tarmac.
‘No one died?’
‘No one injured, even. Other than you.’
‘Have you heard anything from Anna yet?’
‘Not yet, no.’
‘I feel terrible for leaving her on her own to deal with it,’ Lucy says.
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Rachel says again. ‘Accidents happen. You’d have gone with her if you could.’
‘Where’s Edgar?’ Lucy says, suddenly realising she hasn’t asked. ‘Is he still at your house?’
Rachel nods. ‘I locked him in our room. Just in case.’
They fall into silence. Lucy is falling asleep and though she tries to keep her eyes open, she can’t. She’s just so tired.
‘Wake up,’ Rachel says. ‘Wake up. We’re here.’
She must have slept for hours. They’re parked outside the house in Oxford, Rachel’s hand on her arm shaking her awake.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be out cold the whole way,’ Lucy says.
‘You must have needed it.’
They go into the house together. It’s dark, the curtains closed in the front.
Rachel takes her through to the kitchen and puts the kettle on, gesturing at the chairs round the table.
Lucy takes the cue, sits down. Despite her long sleep, she’s still exhausted.
Rachel goes out of the room and Lucy hears muffled shouts from upstairs, thumping.
Edgar. She stiffens, wondering if she should go to help, but then Rachel comes back into the kitchen, her face drawn.
Without mentioning the noise that’s coming from the room above, she makes two cups of tea and brings them over to the table, sits down beside Lucy.
She’s looking tired. The last couple of days have been tough on her, too.
From the moment Lucy and Edgar arrived at the house on Sunday to find the police there, it’s been relentless.
‘How is he?’ she says.
‘Furious,’ Rachel says. ‘He thinks I’m being paranoid, controlling him.
He’s forgotten what he told us about Marie last night – that’s one benefit of whisky, I suppose.
’ She sounds very clinical as she says this.
Lucy tries to keep her expression neutral, but she doesn’t quite manage it.
‘I know it sounds harsh,’ Rachel says. ‘Unfeeling. I’m just trying to keep it together, salvage what we can.
He’ll stop being so aggressive, soon. It’s in his best interests. ’
Lucy’s ashamed of herself. Rachel’s dealing with a horrific situation far more calmly than she could ever hope to herself. ‘At least he can’t get out,’ she says.
‘Let’s hope not,’ Rachel says.
They’re talking about him normally, Lucy realises, as if Edgar and his wife have had a row about something run of the mill. Not about murder, revenge. Killing. She takes a deep breath. ‘You’re not scared he might . . .’
Rachel holds her hand out in front of her.
It’s steady, almost, but there’s a faint tremor running through it.
She lets it hover there for a moment before drawing it back.
‘Scared?’ she says. ‘I’m fucking terrified.
It’s not just Edgar. It’s Marie – she killed Gabriela when she was six months pregnant.
I mean, imagine it. What would she do to me? To Rowan?’
There’s nothing Lucy can say.
They sit in silence for a while before Rachel makes another pot of tea, chucking a couple of packs of biscuits on to the table: chocolate-chip cookies and rich tea biscuits.
Lucy looks at them for a while before reaching out for the rich teas.
Chocolate is too decadent for an occasion like this.
Rachel evidently feels the same, taking one from the pack of plain biscuits as she sits down, though she doesn’t eat it, just snaps it in half, then quarters, piling the pieces up haphazardly by the side of her mug.
Anna should have called by now – that’s the only thought going through Lucy’s head. It’s late. Surely she’s had time to get to the place where Marie is living, found out what the hell is going on, be on her way back by now? She should have called.
Even though Lucy has only known Anna for such a short period of time, she really wants her to be all right.
She feels so sorry for her, the wariness in her eyes and the watchfulness with which she takes every step.
It must be unbelievably hard for her, the terrible shock of Kelly’s death and everything that’s happened since.
Not to mention the revelations that Anna made to her after the crash. Lucy knows she was reacting to the shock, the words pouring out of her, beyond her control, but she hopes that Anna isn’t regretting telling her. She wants to help. Or at the very least, be a friend to her.
Rachel pours some red wine, makes some food – pasta and a tomato sauce. Lucy pushes it round her plate, her appetite gone even though she’s barely eaten all day. Rachel doesn’t eat much, either. She puts a plate of food together for Edgar.
Once they’ve finished eating, Rachel washes up.
‘Let me help.’
‘I’m fine,’ Rachel says. ‘You should get some sleep. Why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll wake you the minute there’s any news.’
At the mention of the word ‘sleep’, Lucy is already yawning. ‘If you’re sure I can’t do anything?’
‘I’m sure. Go on, get to bed.’
Lucy’s so tired she’s practically asleep before her head hits the pillow.