Chapter 20
Have you ever been knocked off your feet by a speeding car?
No? Well, I can tell you now, it fucking hurts.
In fact, it hurts more the next day. So much so that the very thought of getting out of bed is too much for you.
Especially when you haven’t trained your dog yet to bring you food and painkillers.
Kennedy dropped the cat he’d carried up the stairs in his mouth at my feet and looked proud of himself. Roosevelt hissed and fled back downstairs.
“Ugh” was my answer to that situation.
Both my arms were bruised and swollen. My right elbow hurt too much to bend, and the grazes on my left arm and leg seemed to catch on everything and feel like the skin was being ripped off.
I gave up on being conscious and decided Tuesday would be better. I should have known.
Bang bang bang.
“Oh, come on,” I begged the gods in heaven above. “You have got to be kidding me?” I rolled over in bed and was glad that it mostly didn’t hurt anymore.
“FUCK OFF!” I yelled in the direction of the front of my house. Whoever was knocking, I didn’t want to see them.
My bedroom window was open, and I heard my name being called. “Arden? Are you awake?” came Simon’s voice.
Oh, no. He was the absolute last person I wanted to speak to.
He wasn’t going away, though, was he? I harrumphed and threw back the covers.
It was late, already well into mid-morning, and I was in no mood for visitors or for doing things.
I took my time opening the door. I went to the loo, brushed my teeth, and kept him waiting.
If the prick was going to turn up at my house every fucking day with no bloody warning, he could learn to be patient.
Eventually, I deigned to open the door. No running gear today. He was back in those clingy skinny jeans and a blue polo shirt, which had capped sleeves and – goddammit – emphasised how huge his upper arms were.
“I don’t want to see you or talk to you or … see you, did I say that already? Anyway, whatever, we’re not speaking.” I went to close the door.
Simon, being much stronger than I was, stopped me from doing that and peered in at me. “It’s all over the village that you got hit by a car. Katrina told Roz at the shop, and now everyone knows. I had three people tell me about it this morning on my run. Odette thinks you were dogging.”
I rolled my eyes. “It was a case of mistaken identity.”
He frowned. “It … it was on purpose?”
“I’m an enigma wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in … something else, Parma ham? I don’t know. I forget that quote,” I snapped.
“Are you okay, though?”
I shrugged. “Nothing to worry about.” I went to shut the door again. Simon kept himself in the way. “Fine, come in, why don’t you?”
I walked off and left him to it. I needed coffee.
“You’re limping.”
“I got hit by a car,” I reminded him through gritted teeth. “It’s fine, as soon as I’m fully awake, it’ll probably subside.”
“We need to talk about the other night.”
“Oh, do we?” I answered in a sneery tone. “What, so I can hear more lies? Frankly, Simon, I’m not in the mood. You asked me for my help. I gave you my help. When push came to shove, you weren’t interested in telling me what was going on.”
“I went to see Jed yesterday.”
The kettle was boiling. I threw my coffee cup down and shrugged.
“I didn’t want to tell you everything, because it doesn’t just affect me,” he said.
Still ignoring him, I spooned the instant coffee in – Simon grimaced – and then the sugar. Kennedy sat at my feet, hoping that if I made toast, he might get some.
“You found something at Riz’s house,” Simon said after a lengthy silence. “Didn’t you?”
I looked anywhere but him. I drank my coffee and ate my toast. Kennedy ate his toast. We munched along quite contentedly.
“Arden, stop sulking and talk to me! Jesus Christ, you are the most infuriating man on the planet! I leave you alone for two fucking seconds and you get hit by a car! You want to break into houses! You run around screaming at Guy at two in the morning! Your life is a fucking soap opera!”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“What?” he snapped.
“I said you have no idea,” I yelled. “Fine, you wanna know what I found?” I stalked around to where the jacket that I’d worn to Riz’s house was hung up and searched in the pocket for the piece of paper. “Here.” I threw it at Simon and stalked back to my coffee.
He picked it up from where it had fluttered to the ground.
“What’s this?”
“Use your spy-sense and tell me.”
“It’s a letter. From a barrister … from. Oh.”
“From Oliver Ross. Yes, my ex-boyfriend. I don’t recognise the name he’s sending it to, but it’s Riz’s address.
And it was in Riz’s things. Riz knew Ollie, how?
Why? What the fuck does my ex have to do with whatever crazy plan your fiancé was cooking up?
How is he involved, Simon? Does this mean I’m involved? ”
Simon stared at the paper. “I had no idea.”
“Noooo, because why would you? Why would you have a clue that the man you were going to marry was a fucking psychopath stalker?”
I slammed my cup down and paced my kitchen (now I was doing it, apparently). Simon continued to stare at the note. “I have some ideas of what this could mean. Have you spoken to Oliver about it?”
“No. No, I fucking haven’t,” I snapped. “Too busy being lied to and hit by cars,” I added churlishly. Whatever. I was in a mood.
“We need to find out the truth behind this,” he said, flourishing the letter at me.
“We need to figure out if Riz or … or this secret second Marina knew about this. It could mean the person was gunning for you, too. It could mean that the newspaper article wasn’t only because your name had been trending on Twitter. ”
“Ollie doesn’t know Riz,” I said. “He’d never heard of him before the photos leaked. He’s never even been to Salisbury, as far as I know. And he definitely doesn’t hang around with Labour Party apparatchiks.”
“As far as you know,” Simon said.
I glared at him. “I’ll ring him,” I said. “Right now. I’ll put him on speaker.”
Simon shook his head. “It’s a piece of piss to lie convincingly down the phone. And if Ollie’s been tricked, then he won’t even know he’s doing it. Best to do it in person.”
“What? We can’t. He’s in London. Well, he might come down this weekend.”
He huffed at this. “No, that’s too late. The by-election is two days away. What if it’s connected?”
“You think this has all been some grand scheme to get Suzy Rabbit elected? Give over.”
“I don’t know,” he said. He took over pacing. Kennedy instantly got up and followed him.
“Fine. We go to London to see him.” He checked his watch. “If we leave now, we can be there by 2 p.m.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not dropping everything to go to London. I have shit to do. I have a book to finish. I have emails from my editor piling up. I’ve been ignoring them to chase murderers around the countryside.”
“Arden, please,” Simon said. “Please, do this for me, and I promise I won’t ask anything else.”
My resistance failed. Judgey Simon was gone. Heartbroken, grief-stricken Simon was back. Mad with pain and anguish. The Simon who needed answers. It happened so quickly – maybe he was acting. I didn’t want to imagine that Simon had been manipulating me this entire time.
I shook my head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” I was still glaring at him. “Fine, but we can’t take Kenny, it’s not fair for him to spend six hours in a car with us on a hot day. I’m going for a shower. You ring Nigella and ask if she’ll take him for the afternoon.”
He nodded, and I departed upstairs. I took a long shower, trying to calm my nerves.
Stupid Simon bloody Anson and his stupid bloody …
arms. And his stupid hair that I wanted to run my fingers through, and his stupid crooked bottom tooth that made me want to put my fingers in his mouth, and his thighs like tree trunks that I wanted gripped around my waist while he …
There was a knock on the door. “You ready? You’ve been in there for ages.”
I absolutely did not lose my footing and fall spreadeagled on the shower floor. “Yup, just a minute, thanks.”
Simon went and picked up his truck while I dropped off Kenny at Gella’s house.
“Why can’t we take my car?”
“Will that thing even get us to London?” he’d asked, giving the tyre a kick.
“Rude,” I told him.
Nigella was waiting at her door for me when I arrived. “Where exactly are you and Simon off to?” she asked as I walked up her path.
“London,” I said, my voice strangled. “It’s a long story. I’m doing what you told me to do. Trying to keep him from doing anything stupid.”
“And what about you doing anything stupid?” She touched the graze on my arm and grimaced. “Have you spoken to Sonia? Poor thing has been out of her mind. I don’t know what’s going on, but she’s all over the show.”
I shook my head. “Could you look out for her? I’ll see her tonight when I’m back or tomorrow. But make sure she’s okay?”
Nigella narrowed her eyes. “Of course, though I may need to hear the full story about what’s going on.”
I kissed her on the cheek and handed her Kenny’s lead. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Anyway, thanks for looking after him. You sure it’s not too much trouble?”
She crouched to give Kenny a stroke. “Not at all, the boys will be over the moon to play with him. If I end up having to get them a dog, I’m blaming you.”
Simon pulled up at the end of her garden in his ridiculous pickup truck. Which was a blessing as it stopped me from telling Nigella that if she wanted to blame me for things, she needed to join a very long line.
I gave Kenny a kiss. “Have fun,” Nigella said with a wink and took him inside, stopping to give Simon a wave.
“Can I make a quick call?” I asked as I got in the truck.
He glared. It had already been well over an hour since we’d agreed to this, we now wouldn’t reach London until mid-afternoon at the absolute earliest. He held up his hands in defeat.
“Thanks.” I rang Sonia.