Chapter 29
BETH
I stare at the D keyring. The room spins. Clutching the side of the desk, I sink heavily into the chair and squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the keys hard against my chest.
It can’t be a coincidence.
It just can’t be.
I drop the keys. They jangle as they hit the tiled floor.
The familiar prickly sensation starts. Heat rises under my skin.
Stress always heightens the itching the medication can barely keep under control.
It’s insufferable. My nails rake as I scratch my forearms. Decreasing the dose doesn’t work, no matter what the consultant or Justin says.
Living with what he believes to be paranoia is far easier than blood-red arms from all the incessant scratching.
What did Dr Fletcher say to me about managing my stress levels?
Justin and I need to have words.
I crouch to pick up the keys, return them to Immy’s rucksack and close the door on my way out.
When I reach the stairs, Justin is coming down, dressed in a pair of dark cargo shorts and a white T-shirt. The devoted husband who never puts a foot wrong. He stops near the bottom. ‘I thought you were having a rest.’
‘I… I.’
‘What’s wrong?’ He rushes down the last two steps. ‘What’s happened?’
‘You need to come with me.’
He frowns, but he does what I ask.
I open the annexe door, scratching my arm. ‘Come.’ I produce the keys from Immy’s rucksack. ‘You have to see this.’
‘Beth—’ He sighs. ‘You can’t come in here. It’s not right.’ He glances behind him. ‘Where’s Immy?’
‘Taking Hattie for a stroll around the lake. Look.’ I jangle the D-shaped keyring in his face.
‘And?’
‘Don’t you see what this is?’
He shakes his head.
I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it still. ‘Immy isn’t who she says she is. Why have a D keyring when your name begins with I?’
He rolls his eyes. The same look he’s been giving me for months. He snatches the keys from my hand. ‘This is what I mean, Beth. You’re paranoid.’
I flinch as though he’s just struck me across the face. ‘I’m not. I’m telling you, Justin. Who have we got in our house?’
He lowers his voice. ‘Lots of people have these keyrings. Look.’ He holds up the D part of the keyring and presses the side. The plastic flickers – yellow, pink, yellow. ‘They’re the new craze. Perhaps her dad gave it to her. D for Dad?’ he continues. ‘Imogen had an I-shaped one.’
‘Don’t say that name.’
‘Beth!’
‘I mean it.’
Imogen used to work at our London offices.
She had the hots for my husband. I saw the way she flirted around him.
Leaning into him. Touching his arm. Laughing unnecessarily whenever he spoke.
She was another one who had to go. But then she only went and got a job in the café over the road where Justin buys his morning coffee when he’s in town.
I hate that he still sees her, but whenever I’ve said anything, he just tells me I’m being silly.
I place my hands over my ears. ‘Don’t say that name. It’s bad enough that we have an Immy in the house. Or whatever her real name is.’
He puffs out a large breath. His cheeks flare.
They always do when he’s angry, and then, as always, he reins it in.
His hands cover mine and guide them down to my side.
‘Just leave it, Beth.’ He replaces the set of keys in the rucksack and grabs my hands.
Lifting them, he squeezes them together and kisses the tips of my fingers.
‘There’s no ulterior motive here. Immy is just here to look after Mum while you’re having your treatment and I’m working.
I’m going to take as much time off as I can, but you know how hectic things have been.
What did the consultant say? You need to relax.
Now I need to go and get some work done.
’ He turns to leave. ‘Come on, we’re not having this again. ’
‘You’re wrong. I’m telling you. Just think about it. Don’t you think it was a little convenient that she managed to miss her flight?’
‘It was an honest mistake, Beth.’
‘Justin, I’m telling you,’ I say more urgently.
He spins, palms to the ceiling. ‘Telling me what?’
‘She must go.’