Chapter 19
NINETEEN
I try calling him again, cursing myself for not noticing the dial tone wasn’t an international one when I called him before. He doesn’t answer, so I end the call and try Alicia’s phone, but hers goes straight to voicemail, too.
The ground has shifted beneath me and, with no one else I can speak to, I send a message to Declan, asking him to call me when he wakes up.
It’s a surprise when he replies within minutes.
Already up. Mum and Dad were arguing again and woke me up. Will call now.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks when I answer. ‘Stupid question. You can’t be if you’re calling me this early.’
His words are a reminder of the time. For me, hours are blending into each other, with no distinction between night and day, morning or afternoon. I bring Declan up to date, finishing with the revelation that I found Leo’s passport, and get the UK dial tone when he’s claiming to be in New York.
Declan listens without interrupting, then says what I’ve known all night. ‘Shit, Ria. I’m sorry.’
‘I’ve been going over it, trying to think of clues I might have missed that he’s having an affair. I’m not going crazy, am I? There can’t be any other reason he’d lie about going to New York.’
‘I don’t know. I can’t think of any innocent explanation.’
‘Even if he’s not having an affair, Leo’s still lied to me, and that means I can’t trust him.’ I catch my breath. ‘Can you do something for me?’ I ask.
‘Um, I—’
‘I need you to go over to my house and go round the back. I’ve left the side gate unlocked.
Do you think you could take a picture of the dead bird for me?
You’ll see it right there through the bifold doors.
I should have done it myself when I found it, but I was too shocked.
I need evidence to take to the police that I’m being targeted.
I’m so sorry to ask this, but I could really do with the help. ’
‘Okay, that’s fine,’ Declan says. ‘I can do it. I’ll go in a minute. Mum’s in the shower and Dad’s gone to his man cave in the garden. They won’t have a chance to ask where I’m going. Call you back when I’ve done it.’
While I wait, I get dressed in the same joggers I wore yesterday and take a glass of water out to the balcony.
I sit on the garden chair I spent so much time reading in when I lived here.
I close my eyes and will myself to be transported back.
Before the person I assume was Peter Harvey knocked on the door and attacked me. Before he threw me from this balcony.
And then I force myself to confront what I’ve never wanted to admit: I’d been drinking that night; that must have been why my guard was down and I opened the door.
If I hadn’t had a few glasses of wine to deal with my shattered nerves, that night might never have evolved in the way it did.
This is the reason I don’t usually touch alcohol now – it’s not just because I’ve been afraid of how it will affect me since the attack, it’s because it impaired my judgement once before.
I may not be the strongest woman physically, but even if he’d found a way in, I would have fought Peter Harvey off with every inch of my being if I’d been able to.
I walk to the railing and peer over, looking at the communal garden below.
The grass has shrivelled in this heat and is now a rough blanket of yellow, interspersed with patches of dry mud.
The patio is the same large grey concrete slabs that I smashed on to, and I picture myself lying there, barely alive.
If Leo hadn’t come home and found me, I’d have died.
He saved my life, and now he’s manipulating it.
But as I look down, once again protected by my memory loss, I feel that it’s someone else I’m seeing sprawled out there, not me.
My phone rings as I go back inside, and I scoop it up when I see Declan’s name. ‘Did you get the photo?’
‘No, I didn’t, I’m sorry. I couldn’t get one.’
I let out a deep sigh. ‘Why, what happened? Did someone stop you? Are you okay?’
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you. What I’m saying is . . . there was no dead bird in your kitchen. I couldn’t see anything at all. No blood. Nothing.’
Time stands still and my head throbs as I digest Declan’s words. ‘But it was there – I saw it. And there was a pool of blood.’
He takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry, Ria. I even checked the garden to see if it had been thrown somewhere. There was no sign of any dead bird.’
‘Someone must have got into my house and got rid of it. They would have seen on the cameras that I’d left Silverleaf. There must be cameras at the back of our houses, too.’
There’s silence on the other end of the phone. Declan doesn’t believe me, and even to my own ears, I sound irrational. First a dead woman whose body disappears, and now the same thing with a bird in my kitchen. I can’t blame Declan for doubting me. ‘It was there, Declan, I swear.’
‘Okay,’ he says, the tone in his voice unreadable. ‘I guess it’s possible there are cameras out the back. Knowing Giles, that wouldn’t surprise me.’
I fall silent. I needed that photo.
‘Ria? You okay?’ Declan asks.
My mouth opens, but I can’t form any words.
‘Ria?’
‘I’m okay. I’ll deal with this.’
‘But what are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know. I just feel like I’m missing something. This is all about Silverleaf, I’m sure of it.’
There’s a pause. ‘Look, I’m coming to London today to meet up with some friends this evening. Maybe I could stop by and talk things through? I’ve been in Silverleaf longer than you, I might be able to help.’
I don’t need time to consider his offer. ‘No, it’s fine. I’ll work this out. I’m not dragging you into this any further.’
‘I’m already involved. Besides, I liked Kimmy. If there’s any chance the woman you saw was her, then I want to help.’
My instinct screams at me to say no, to keep Declan out of this. I’ve already asked too much. But then I remember that I can no longer trust my husband, and that Alicia didn’t turn up again. Maybe Declan is the only ally I have.
‘Okay, then,’ I agree. ‘As you’ll be in London anyway.’
‘I might not be able to stay long, but I’ll do what I can to help. What’s your address?’
I tell him and thank him again.
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you,’ he says. ‘Mum checked in on Giles last night and Willow is getting better. The vet’s certain she’ll be able to come home in the next few days.’
Hearing this, my spirits surge. If someone did deliberately try to kill Willow, at least it didn’t work.
We end the call and I sink on to the sofa, my resolve rapidly setting in again. Whoever is doing this, I won’t let them win.
‘Have you tried to call Leo again?’ Declan asks, when he turns up later that morning. He’s sitting on the sofa with a can of Coke I found in the fridge. I feel guilty working my way through Johnny’s groceries, but when this is over I’ll replenish his cupboards.
‘I tried, but his phone’s switched off now.
’ None of this makes sense. All I know for certain is that my husband is lying to me.
‘His flight home is supposed to be today,’ I continue.
I stand up and cross to the balcony door, opening it to let some air in.
But I can’t stand still, so I pace back to the front window. Outside, the street is quiet.
‘Does he know you’ve found his passport?’ Declan asks.
‘No, I tried to call, but I didn’t want to leave a message and give him a chance to concoct a story.
’ I shake my head. It feels wrong to be confiding in Declan – someone I hardly know – about my husband, but there’s little choice.
‘Although I have no idea how he’d try to get out of this one.
Without a passport you can’t get on a plane – it’s as simple as that.
’ I snatch Leo’s passport from the coffee table and flick through it.
‘And this is definitely his up-to-date one. He must have picked mine up by mistake. I don’t know how they got mixed up.
Maybe in the house move.’ I point to the yellow folder on the table.
‘I keep mine in that and Leo keeps his in his bedside drawer. He must have just grabbed it and not bothered checking. Easy to see why, when he had no intention of going to New York.’
Declan puts his can on the table. ‘Sorry,’ he says, wiping away a round circle of condensation.
‘That’s the least of my worries.’
Declan apologises again. ‘I’m not being much help. Mum’s the fixer in the family.’
Remembering Georgia’s last words to me, I feel a wave of sadness that our friendship never had a chance.
‘What will you do if he admits to having an affair?’ Declan asks. ‘Sorry, I know that’s a personal question – you don’t have to answer.’
My answer comes with no hesitation. ‘I’ll pack my bags and get the hell out of Silverleaf.
’ As the words spill from my mouth, they leave me with a strong sense of freedom.
‘But . . . it just doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing.
I’m not na?ve – I’m aware husbands cheat, and that often wives have no clue whatsoever – but Leo spent so much of his time and energy nursing me back to health,’ I explain.
‘It takes a strong kind of love to see someone through something like that. There must have been times he couldn’t bear to face it.
To face me. He could have walked away then. ’
Declan nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.
‘Have you ever been in love?’ I ask.
‘Not really,’ Declan says. ‘I’ve had girlfriends, but nothing serious.’ He pauses. ‘Actually, there’s a nice girl in my religion and human rights class – I was thinking of asking her out.’
I smile. ‘I hope she says yes.’
‘Thanks. I’m sorry if he is cheating, though. That’s rough.’
‘What if this is about Silverleaf?’ I say. ‘Leo seems to have such a strong tie to the place. It’s as if there’s nowhere else he’d even contemplate living.’
Declan sighs. ‘My mum’s the same. What is it with that place?’
I shrug. ‘Wish I knew.’
‘So what are you going to do now?’
The sympathetic look on his face forces me to look away; I’ve never felt comfortable being pitied.
‘That’s the million-dollar question. It’s time I went to the police to tell them about Kimmy Gould.
They’ll be able to find out if she’s in America or not.
’ I saw her, so I know she can’t be. ‘And when Leo gets back, I’ll confront him.
I’ll make him tell me the truth. He can’t hide it.
’ I pick up his passport. ‘Not when I’ve got this. ’
Declan frowns. ‘But what do you think it has to do with Silverleaf? Why did he need to pretend he was away? It doesn’t make sense.’
‘I don’t know.’ Leo knows I’d feel anxious being on my own after everything that’s happened, yet he still left, and lied to me about it.
‘Ria, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’
‘That depends what it is.’
‘Your attack. What exactly happened?’
It shouldn’t be hard for me to tell this story – normally it isn’t – but right now I struggle to form the words.
‘I . . . I was being stalked. By another teacher at my school. I reported a violent incident against a child. He started harassing me. Then . . . I don’t remember it, but .
. . he got into my flat – not sure how, but it’s possible I let him in for some reason – and then he beat me almost to death.
Then . . . the balcony.’ I will let Declan fill in the gaps.
He stares at me, open-mouthed. ‘My God, Ria. You’ve been through hell. And now all of this.’ Declan shakes his head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s probably a good thing I can’t remember what happened. I’m guessing something like that traumatises a person.’
‘’Course it would.’ He’s quiet for a moment, then changes the subject. ‘Did you hear back from the friend you were supposed to meet last night?’
I still haven’t heard from Alicia, but when I check my messages, I notice she’s read them. ‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘I’ll try calling again now.’
‘It’s a bit weird,’ Declan says. ‘Her ghosting you like that. Can you trust her?’
‘I can’t trust anyone.’ Even myself, but I don’t say that aloud.
Just as I pick up my phone, a message pings through. When I see it’s from a number I don’t recognise, intense heat floods my body. And then I read the words and I’m frozen, my breath catching in my throat, struggling to leave my body.
Run, but there’s nowhere to hide.
I screenshot it, then, without a word, I pass my phone to Declan, his eyes widening as he reads. Slowly he hands it back to me. ‘Shit.’
I read the words again. ‘Now do you believe me? I haven’t just sent that message to myself, have I?’ At least now Declan will know the truth: I’m not doing this to myself.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘It’s not that I didn’t believe you . . .’
I’m about to tell him that half the time I wonder if I can believe myself, but my phone rings, forcing me to park that thought. I pick it up and stare at it – hesitant to answer because once again it’s a number I don’t recognise.
But of course I do. ‘Hello?’
‘Ria?’ It’s a woman’s voice. An older lady. Not a voice I recognise.
‘Yes, who is this?’ I glance at Declan.
There’s a muffled sound and I realise the woman might be crying.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask. ‘Who is this?’
‘This is . . . My name’s Sydney. I’m Alicia’s mum.’
My heart almost stops.
‘Are you there?’ she asks.
‘Yes, sorry.’
‘I’m Alicia’s mum,’ she repeats. ‘I got your number from her phone. Her messages. It looks like she was supposed to meet you last night.’
‘Yes, we were supposed to, but Alicia didn’t turn up. Is she okay?’
There’s a long pause, more muffled sounds, almost like retching. ‘Alicia is dead.’