Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
HAVEN
If eavesdropping on private conversations was a skill, I could teach it. I’ve certainly had my fair share of experience over the years and, right now, I’m getting some more practice.
I’ve heard everything that has been said on the call between Liane and Scott, thanks to her putting her son on speakerphone.
It’s a call that is not over yet.
But it might as well be after what I just heard.
Did Liane really say the ‘m’ word? I’m sure she did and not only that, but she used it in reference to me.
Murder. Okay, so she might not have been talking literally and only expressing her anger at me accusing her son of the same thing, but it was still a shocking thing to hear.
If I had any doubts about Liane’s level of hatred towards me, they are well and truly resolved now.
It’s obvious she never wants to see me again, and the same goes for Scott, who sounded anxious on the call, if such a thing can be detected over the phone.
I have been crouching at the top of the stairs, listening to what was being said below me, but Liane has ended the call now, telling her son to get some sleep, and I can only assume she is going to try and do the same.
That means she is going to be coming upstairs very soon and that is a big problem because I’m already up here and will rapidly run out of places to hide if I have company.
But before I move, I think about how Liane didn’t ask Scott about the accusations I made against him.
She didn’t once put the question to her son about whether anything I said was remotely true.
She just blindly trusts him, presumably like any mother would, but that doesn’t help me very much.
Because she didn’t ask Scott, he didn’t have to deny anything, but at least that might have made him sweat.
As it is, he’s still getting away with what he has done, and I am increasingly convinced that a murder occurred on this staircase where I lurk now, and not an accident like everyone else assumes.
However, I have something more pressing to worry about at the moment.
Liane is leaving the kitchen.
I think she’s coming upstairs next.
I quickly but quietly move away from the staircase and retreat to the bedroom I was trying to sleep in earlier.
I have to assume that Liane will visit the bathroom, so I can’t hide in there.
I also have to hope that when it comes to picking a bedroom to spend the night in, she’ll opt for a bigger room than here.
This house was her mother’s so she should be far more comfortable here than I am.
But I’ll have to wait and see where she goes.
Once I’m back in the bedroom, I slowly lower myself to the carpet before crawling under the bed.
It’s dusty under here and I have to stifle a sneeze, but I’m confident I can remain hidden as long as Liane doesn’t come in here and start snooping around.
If she does, I’m screwed, but maybe I already am anyway.
I hear footsteps on the stairs and now I’m holding my breath, as if that extra thing will make any difference to whether or not I’m caught. I listen as Liane reaches the top of the stairs, and then I hear her flick a light switch.
Light filters through the half-open bedroom door, and next I hear a running tap. She is in the bathroom. But where will she go next?
The thought of her coming in here and getting onto the bed I’m hiding under is a terrifying one.
Even if I could remain undetected beneath her, the proximity would surely be too much to handle and I’d end up making a noise that would give my position away.
So I just have to hope that isn’t put to the test.
I listen as Liane does whatever she needs to do in the bathroom. The light goes off. Then I hear her footsteps crossing the hallway. I grit my teeth as I silently pray that she won’t pick this room to go into next.
Another light goes on then and I relax slightly when I realise that she has chosen a different bedroom.
I think I’m safe. For now, at least. But the way I see it, I only have two options and neither of them is good.
Either I stay hidden here all night and wait for Liane to leave tomorrow before I make my exit too.
Or, I wait until Liane falls asleep and try and sneak out of the house then, which seems the far more daunting option of the two.
I wish there was a third option.
But there isn’t.
I’m in a mess.
And I have no one to blame for it but myself.
I thought I was being clever by coming here, but now I’ve gone and got myself trapped and it feels like the only way not to get caught is to spend a sleepless night lying under this bed, waiting for dawn.
I can’t even risk falling asleep in case I snore or make any kind of noise that could alert Liane.
If I did, I would wake up to the sight of a police officer pulling me out from under the bed.
The only thing I can do is listen, so that’s what I do as I hear Liane moving around in the bedroom next to this one.
Eventually, the light goes off again. All is quiet now, and after several minutes without hearing another sound, I have to assume she is trying to get some sleep.
I relax slightly due to the fact that I’m not going to be discovered here anytime soon, but any relief is short-lived.
I really don’t want to have to lie here all night, but dare I risk leaving my position?
In the end, I decide to stay put. Even if I did somehow make it out, I haven’t got anywhere to go.
At least here, I’m relatively warm and reasonably comfortable.
The carpet beats concrete, and a roof over my head, or a bed in this case, beats being totally exposed to the weather outside.
But before I can try and get as comfortable as I can, I hear the sound of a light switch going on. A moment later, I hear footsteps, and suddenly, the bedroom door is opening.
Liane is coming in.
What is she doing? I thought she was asleep. I can hardly ask her what she’s up to. All I can do is hold my breath again.
I can see Liane’s bare feet now, moving across the carpet so close to my head. If she bent down, she would see me under here, but she’s not doing that.
She’s doing something almost as bad, though.
She’s getting into the bed above me.
I have no idea why Liane just changed her mind about where to sleep and can only assume the first bed she tried didn’t feel comfortable enough.
But now she is trying this bed, the last bed in the house I wanted her to try, and I am forced to listen to the sound of her wriggling under the duvet above me.
The bed creaks a little as Liane gets into position, and I’m forced to clamp a hand over my mouth through fear of inadvertently making a noise.
All it would take is a little air escaping my lips at a higher volume than normal and I would be rumbled.
I imagine Liane would scream if she realised there was someone under the bed, before she would go through other states, from shock to anger, all whilst trying to grab hold of me and stop me from getting away.
If only my boyfriend could see me now.
Maybe he would give up on me.
Everything goes quiet above me and it stays that way for a while.
I can keep track of the time by looking at the clock on my phone and that’s how I’m able to see when it reaches the half-hour mark since Liane last made a sound.
She must be asleep. But still I dare not move.
I don’t move until, just short of forty minutes, I hear a wonderful sound.
Snoring.
Liane is definitely asleep and after that most recent scare, I am most definitely getting out of here while I can.
I roll out from under the bed and slowly get to my feet, keeping my eyes on the still shape on the bed before me.
But I don’t linger, taking my bag from under the bed where it was hiding with me and sneaking out of the bedroom before creeping down the stairs.
Step by step, slowly but surely, creeping towards the front door.
Once I have made it, I use my key to unlock it before stepping outside and then relocking the door, as Liane will expect to find it in the morning. Then I walk away from the house as quickly as I can, not knowing where I’m going, only that it has to be somewhere well away from her.