Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
There’s a hedge at the end of the path, and beyond it lies the main road, if I can climb over. It takes some effort, but on the third attempt I manage to pull myself over and ease myself down the other side.
Without looking behind, I break into a sprint, only stopping when I reach Thursley High Street.
I’m breathless, and sweat coats my chest. Despite the late hour, a car approaches and I don’t dare to look up.
I imagine it stopping, one of the neighbours hauling me inside.
I hold my breath, ready to run again, but thankfully it passes.
The street is silent and empty, and my heart races as I pull out my phone to call Leo – it’s only evening in New York so he should answer, but it goes straight to his voicemail. I’m too breathless to leave a message, but he’ll see my missed call.
When my breathing regulates, I call Johnny.
‘Hello? Ria? Is everything okay?’
‘I’m sorry to call you so late.’
‘You don’t sound good – what’s happened?’
Even though I hadn’t planned to, I end up telling Johnny everything that’s happened since we moved to Silverleaf, my words spilling like water from a tap, and I’m powerless to take them back.
‘Jesus,’ he says. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this before?’
‘I just . . . we haven’t spoken as much over the last few years since you went travelling. So I didn’t want to burden you with all this.’
‘I’m still your friend, Ria. We often lose touch for a bit and then pick up right where we left off, don’t we?’
Johnny is right: I could have, and should have, opened up to him sooner. ‘I’ll remember for next time,’ I offer.
‘Anyway, I haven’t heard back yet about that video, but as soon as I do, you can go to the police. They’ll have to believe you.’
‘Listen, the reason I’m calling is . . . I can’t go back there, Johnny. I don’t know what will happen if I do.’
‘That’s understandable.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I know it’s a big ask, but do you think I could stay in the flat, just for tonight?
’ I glance at my watch: 2 a.m. ‘At least what’s left of tonight.
I’ll find somewhere to go tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the sofa, or the floor – I don’t really care as long as I’m away from my house. ’
‘You’re in luck,’ he says. ‘I’m away at my parents’ in York for a few days.
It’s my sister’s thirtieth so we’re all making a big fuss of her.
So if you’ve got the key on you, you’re welcome to stay until I’m back on Wednesday.
And of course you don’t have to sleep on the floor.
Take the spare room. The bed’s always made up. ’
I let out a deep sigh of gratitude. ‘Thank you. I won’t need that long.
I’ll make sure I’m out by then.’ It’s Saturday now, and Leo will be back on Sunday morning.
He’ll have to listen to me, and we can deal with this nightmare together.
‘And I’ve got the key.’ Thankfully, it’s in the file of papers I stuffed in my bag.
‘Help yourself to teabags and coffee, but there’s no milk, I’m afraid.’
‘It’s okay.’
‘Anything you want to eat – it’s yours.’
A swell of tears stings my eyes, and I blink them back. ‘I don’t know how to thank you.’
‘You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends, Ria. You’d do the same for me.’
When we end the call, I order an Uber, and the app lets me know I’ve got a ten-minute wait for my black Tesla to turn up. It will cost a fortune to get from here to Canning Town, but I don’t have a choice.
I’m alert to every sound as I scan the high street for signs of anyone there.
My body is tense; I’m desperate to catch sight of the Uber.
Someone from Silverleaf could track me down here.
I have no doubt they were watching me on the cameras; there’s no way four households didn’t hear the commotion of me pounding on doors and ringing doorbells.
They will also know that I went through my side gate and not into the house. I disappeared, just like Kimmy.
Finally, the Uber arrives, and I jump inside.
‘Long way,’ the driver says, eyeing me with suspicion.
‘I know.’
He shrugs and pulls off, and as we drive, my eyes begin to close as, like a newborn baby, I’m lulled by the motion of the car, and when I open them again, the Uber driver is pulling up to my flat.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘You take care now.’ He smiles and drives off, his car silently reversing, then heading back the way we came.
Inside the flat, I shut the door and pull the security chain, locking the door with my key for extra security.
I untie my trainers and leave them on the mat before I head into the lounge and flick on the light.
It’s strange being here, a place that still feels like home but shouldn’t, surrounded by objects that don’t belong to me.
I put my bag on the floor then flop on to the sofa.
Every part of me aches with tiredness, but fear keeps me wide awake.
My phone pings with a message, and I snatch it up and hold my breath, relieved to see Leo’s name. I eagerly read his words.
You’re probably asleep. Sorry I missed your call. I hope you’re okay. I miss you.
Quickly, I reply, telling him I’m awake. And when he calls straight back, I’m filled with hope that we’ll be okay. That he will finally believe everything I’ve been telling him.
‘Hey,’ he says, when I answer. ‘Can’t sleep?’
‘Leo, I’m not at home. I’m in Canning Town, at the flat. Johnny’s away, and he offered to let me stay for a few days.’
There’s a pause before he answers. ‘Why? Are you okay? What’s going on?’
I tell him everything that’s happened, including the part about waking up in Xander’s bed and the staged photo he took of us. ‘Nothing happened,’ I assure him. ‘I would never do that to you.’
‘I know.’
‘I had to get out of there. You understand that, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. Did you take a picture of the dead bird?’
‘No . . . I was in shock. Terrified. I just grabbed some stuff and ran. Then my car wouldn’t start and I couldn’t get out. Someone keeps changing the security code, Leo. It’s like they’re trying to keep me in.’
‘Ria . . .’ He trails off.
‘I know this sounds crazy. But I’m telling you the truth, Leo.
And I’m not going back there. Someone deliberately hacked away those overgrown bushes behind Silverleaf.
It wouldn’t be hard to hide a body there, and they could get in and out undetected.
I didn’t check round the side of Xander’s garden.
He could have left Kimmy there until after I’d gone. ’
‘Okay. Look, if that’s what happened, then the police will be able to find evidence. But we can’t just accuse people without knowing the facts. I’ll be home tomorrow. We can sort it all out.’
I refrain from telling him that the only thing to sort out is where we’re going to live.
‘You need to get some sleep,’ he says. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m at the airport.’
‘How did it all go?’ I’ve had so much to tell him about what’s been going on here that I’ve barely had a chance to ask Leo about his conference.
‘Yeah, it’s been good. People keep telling me how the talks were, but I can’t really take in their words. All I can think about is you. I’m worried, Ria.’
‘I’ll be okay. I’m fine when I’m not there.’
‘I know nothing I can say will change your mind,’ he says. ‘Just message me when you wake up so I know you’re okay.’
‘I will. Also, I think they’ve set up a different WhatsApp group – and we’re not in it. That’s how they’ve been changing the security code. Do you know the latest one?’
He recites the number that didn’t work for me earlier.
‘It’s not that any more,’ I say.
‘I’ll message Giles,’ Leo says. ‘I’ll get it from him and ask that it doesn’t get changed again.’
‘Let me know what he says.’
‘I’ll be home soon,’ Leo says. ‘I’ll come to the flat so you don’t have to go back to the house on your own. We’re in this together, okay? And . . . whatever’s happened – I love you.’
We say goodbye, and I hunt in the airing cupboard and find a red blanket.
I pull it over my shoulders and go to the kitchen, hunting around for teabags.
The kitchen is too small to have them in canisters on the worktop, so just as I used to, he must keep them in a cupboard.
It doesn’t take long to find them, and I make myself a black tea, taking it back to the sofa with me.
I open the bag I’ve brought, searching for my pyjamas, and my hands rest on the folder I grabbed from my bedside drawer.
I pull it out and empty the contents on to the table, checking that I haven’t lost anything.
Everything seems to be there. Birth certificate, marriage certificate.
My passport falls on to the floor, and when I pick it up, I flick through it, gasping when I realise that it’s not my passport at all.
It’s Leo’s.
But he’s in America.
I grab my phone and call him, but he doesn’t answer.
And that’s when I realise that it’s a UK dialling tone I’m listening to.
So where the hell is my husband?