Chapter 1 #3
‘Did you make these especially for me and Eleanor?’ Georgia asks. ‘So kind of you. Shame she’s missing out.’
‘Take some for her,’ I offer. ‘And for yourself. I’m sure I’ve got a couple of tubs somewhere.’
‘Thanks.’ Georgia finishes her cookie and cradles her cup in her hand. ‘So how are you finding Silverleaf so far? Bit different from London, right?’
I rest my elbows on the kitchen island. ‘I know it’s beautiful here,’ I say, carefully selecting my words.
‘But I was really happy in London. Our flat wasn’t huge, but it was cosy and warm.
It felt like home. Sometimes places just feel right, don’t they?
And even when Leo moved in and we got married, it never felt cramped.
’ I pause, thinking of all the small comments Leo would make about it, seemingly in jest. I gaze around the kitchen.
‘He was so excited about this place. And after . . . what happened, well, it made sense to have a fresh start. I just had no idea it would be somewhere like Silverleaf Heights. Somewhere so . . . isolated.’
Georgia nods. ‘I know what you mean, but that’s what I love about Thursley. Not too many people around.’ She appraises me. ‘I get that it must have been hard to sell up and give up your home, though.’
‘Actually, I didn’t sell. I’m renting it out to an old friend of mine. Leo thought it might be better to get rid of it, in case it was hard for me to keep living there, but I couldn’t do that. And it’s an income stream for me, so . . .’
‘I can understand why you’d keep it. And yes, Leo told us what happened. It must have been awful. Are you okay now?’
My answer is already prepared, delivered with the smile and nod I’ve perfected to smother my anxiety. ‘I’m fine now.’
‘Good,’ Georgia says. ‘That’s good. And you’ll fit right in here, I’m sure. We’re a nice bunch. Lucky, really – I mean, you hear all kinds of horror stories about people having awful neighbours. Silverleaf is like a dream community. Small and perfect.’ She smiles and lifts her cup.
I nod, wanting to ask exactly what she means by fitting in, but I hold back my words.
I’m supposed to be making friends, not alienating people.
Leo will be pleased that I’ve bitten my tongue for a change.
He often teases me that I have no filter, but what he doesn’t understand is that I just value the truth above all else.
‘Shall we sit outside?’ I suggest. ‘It’s a beautiful day.
I’m not one for being cooped up indoors, even when it’s cold.
And Leo spent a fortune on the garden furniture.
He even had it set up before we moved in, just because he knows how much I like to be outside.
’ I gesture to the rattan modular sofa with wide, overstuffed cushions, still astounded that it could have cost so much.
Georgia glances through the window. ‘You’ve got a good husband, there,’ she says. ‘Um, would you mind if we stayed in here? That sun is lethal for my skin.’ She gestures to her face. ‘Look at my pale skin and freckles. Best if I don’t let myself burn.’
‘Of course,’ I say, trying to hide my disappointment. ‘Tell me about your family,’ I say.
Georgia beams. ‘Declan’s studying to be a human rights lawyer. He wants to start his own firm one day.’
‘I hope this isn’t rude,’ I say, ‘but you seem very young to have a twenty-one-year-old son. I think we look around the same age. I’m thirty-five.’
She smiles. ‘Close. I’m thirty-seven. Let’s just say Declan and his twin sister, Ciara, were a happy accident when we were living back in Dublin.
’ Her smile fades. ‘I miss my daughter. She loves animals and was studying to be a vet until she decided to take time out to go travelling. I was hoping she’d move here with us.
It doesn’t feel right without her. Oh, I know they have to grow up and fly the nest, but knowing that doesn’t make it easy. ’
‘That must be hard.’
She nods. ‘Well, at least she FaceTimes all the time. You know, Patrick and I have been together since school. How many people can say that? And look at us now.’ She gestures around.
‘Never thought we’d be able to afford a place like this.
To be honest, I feel like we kind of cheated.
Patrick’s in property development – that’s why we moved over here, and how he met Giles.
I’m sure we wouldn’t have got this place otherwise. ’
‘Do you ever . . . feel like you don’t fit in?’ I ask, lowering my voice even though we’re alone.
Georgia stares at me. ‘Oh, no. Things have changed, Ria. People from all kinds of backgrounds have money now. These days nobody cares how you got it.’
I wonder if this is true, but don’t say anything.
She studies me. ‘I think if I didn’t know everyone so well, then maybe I’d feel a bit out of place. But they’re such lovely people. If you’re worried, the best thing you can do is get to know everyone.’
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I’m just not sure this place is me.’
Georgia appraises me. ‘Well, that’s honesty. I like that. Not enough of it around today.’ She leans forward. ‘Want my advice?’
I nod, even though I’m not sure I do.
‘Just keep your head down. Everyone here is lovely, but what people want when they move to a place like Silverleaf Heights is privacy. To know that they’re not being watched.
Or judged.’ She lifts her cup again but puts it back down without taking a sip.
‘I’ve learned that pretty quickly. And don’t you just feel safe here?
It’s not like London.’ She smiles. ‘Just focus on you and Leo, and you’ll be fine. ’
‘Yes,’ I say, wanting her words to fuel me with hope.
But the constant gnawing in my stomach continues long after Georgia leaves.
I wake in the night, turning to Leo’s side of the bed.
It’s empty. It takes me a moment to remember he’d messaged in the evening to say he was staying at the hospital; he’d been called in for an emergency surgery and was unsure when he’d be finished.
I exhale a deep breath. My mind has taught itself to expect the worst, but I push back against it and smother my paranoia.
It’s 3 a.m., and I know there’ll be no more sleep for me tonight.
Slipping out of bed, I head to the spare room across the hall.
It’s the smallest bedroom in the house and is set up as my art studio, when I can bring myself to paint again.
For now, it’s where I come when I’m wide awake in the dead of night, and as usual I cross to the window, desperate to focus on the nature outside, anything other than these blank neutral walls.
The large communal green outside glistens under the soft glow of moonlight, and I try to focus my mind on it, to shut out all other thoughts.
I turn away, contemplating finally picking up my sketch pad again, when a scream from outside shatters the silence.
I turn back to the window, convinced I’ve imagined it, that it’s just another cruel trick my mind is playing.
But there’s definitely someone out there: a blonde-haired woman in a long white skirt and dark top, running across the green.
Stumbling. There’s a figure behind her, in a dark hooded top and joggers, and when she trips and falls, I’m relieved that he’s there to help her.
But I’m wrong. Instead of reaching to help her up, he grabs a fistful of blonde hair, dragging her up before shoving her backwards.
She falls to the ground again, putting her arms up to shield herself.
My stomach lurches, and I scan my desk for my phone before I remember it’s still in the bedroom. I reach for the window, scrambling to open it, but I freeze when I see the man’s arms around her neck, and that he’s not letting go.
I throw open the window and scream for him to stop, but I’m too late. Her body shudders then falls still.
And everything is silent.