Chapter 23
Poppy knew she was being ridiculous.
Ian had picked her up and everything had been fine, so why was she freaking out all of a sudden?
Perhaps because she knew he enjoyed his wine, but had quietly rationed his own alcohol intake while pushing her to drink more, despite her protests. It felt deceitful.
‘You really don’t need to take me. I can get a taxi.’
‘Don’t be daft. I picked you up. I can take you home.’ Ian smiled at her again, but this time it didn’t reach his eyes.
Poppy opened her mouth. Closed it again. She could still refuse, but what excuse would she give?
‘Is there a problem, Poppy?’ Sue asked, out of the blue.
‘What? No! Of course not.’
‘You seem a little jumpy all of a sudden.’
‘No, I’m not.’
Liar.
Poppy’s heart thumped and her face burned hot as both of the Pritchards stared at her, as if they didn’t believe she was telling the truth.
Eventually, Sue’s expression softened and she reached across to rub her hand up and down Poppy’s arm. ‘You’re so tightly wound up, love. Ian and I just want you to relax and have a good time.’
‘I am. It’s been a lovely evening,’ Poppy told her, racked with guilt.
‘Then there’s no reason we can’t continue, is there. And you have your lift sorted, so now you can relax and enjoy yourself, love.’
Easier said than done, but without causing a scene, Poppy wasn’t sure she had a choice.
And she didn’t have a phone signal. Unless the Pritchards’ gave her their Wi-Fi code, which didn’t seem like it was going to happen, how was she supposed to call for a cab?
Nerves had her reaching for her wine glass and taking a big sip, even though she had promised herself she would stop drinking, and she told herself yet again she was overreacting. Still, deep in her gut, she couldn’t help but think there was something a little bit off.
‘I have an idea,’ Sue piped up suddenly, clasping her hands together. ‘Ian, love. Why don’t we show Poppy your wine collection?’
‘Oh, you don’t have to—’
‘Nonsense,’ Sue said, shutting down Poppy’s protest. ‘The crumble needs another five minutes. There’s time. He’s very proud of what he’s built, you know. Just wait until you see it.’
Ian chuckled softly, rising slowly. ‘It’s nothing fancy,’ he said modestly. ‘Just a small cellar under the house. Keeps the temperature steady.’
The word cellar had Poppy’s stomach tightening.
She hadn’t noticed a cellar door when she’d arrived.
‘Go on,’ Sue encouraged, smiling brightly.
She was already on her feet, waiting for Poppy to get up.
‘You can pick a nice bottle to have with dessert. Ian knows all the different grapes. He’ll bore you senseless talking about them if you let him.
’ She smiled fondly at her husband. ‘Won’t you, love? ’
Poppy hesitated, aware she would look ridiculous if she refused to go with Ian. She had no logical reason to refuse, other than a gut feeling, and if she acted on that, she would be throwing Sue and Ian’s hospitality back in their faces.
‘Okay,’ she agreed, keeping her tone light.
She slid across and off the bench seat, following after Ian, tension already thrumming through her, as they stepped out into the living room, the beaded curtain clattering softly behind them as it settled, then out into the hallway.
He led her past the front door, towards the end of the villa where Poppy presumed the bedrooms were.
The air was cooler here, and the light slightly dimmer.
Finally, he stopped beside a wooden door. Above it, fixed to the wall, was a small metal rack. A single brass key hung from one of the hooks. Reaching up, he took it down.
As he bent slightly to slide the key into the lock, Poppy felt a trace of unease. If the cellar was used to store wine, why did he need to keep the door locked?
A memory surfaced of the notorious serial killers, Fred and Rose West, who had presented themselves as a normal, friendly couple, before luring their female victims to a gruesome end.
And, although again she told herself she was being ridiculous and her imagination was now running riot, she couldn’t quite shake the thought.
Something wasn’t quite right with Sue and Ian.
The door swung inward to reveal a concrete staircase descending into the darkness. Reaching inside the cellar, he clicked on a switch, and a single bulb glowed somewhere below, throwing weak yellow light up the shadowy walls.
The air drifting up was noticeably cooler and it smelt strongly of damp stone.
‘Mind the first step. It’s a bit steep,’ Ian instructed, already starting down the steps.
Poppy moved closer to the doorway.
The staircase looked narrower than she expected, the walls close on either side. From this angle, she could see shelves running along the basement walls below, and rows of dark glass bottles lying on their sides.
Perfectly normal. Completely harmless.
Yet, absurdly, her mind lurched in a totally different direction.
Although the Pritchards’ villa sat within a small cluster, as far as Poppy was aware, the other properties were all empty. The only other one occupied was Jem’s, but she already knew that he wasn’t home.
Ian was at the foot of the stairs now.
‘Come on down,’ he urged. ‘You know, cellars are the best place to store wine. The stable temperature helps preserve them.’
Poppy willed herself to move, but her legs were leaden and she felt as though her feet were glued to the ground.
Sue suddenly appeared behind her, close enough that Poppy could feel the warmth of her presence at her back. She gave Poppy a nudge. ‘Go on. We don’t bite, you know.’
It sounded ridiculous, but something made Poppy want to run. Not possible, though, as Sue was right behind her in the doorway, while Ian stood waiting at the bottom.
‘Are you coming?’
His voice echoed slightly in the enclosed space, and her pulse kicked up a notch.
Realising she had nowhere else to go, she stepped onto the stairs, aware her legs were shaking.
As she descended, Ian watched her, his gaze sweeping down from her face and across her body, in a way that made her skin prickle.
He had one hand behind his back, she realised.
His smile widened slightly as she reached the final step.
The cellar was smaller than she expected, with three stone walls lined with wooden racks, each one filled with rows of neatly labelled bottles.
There was a table too she could see, with a radio on it and a couple of wine glasses.
A low beam ran across the ceiling, and the bare lightbulb added a sinister muted glow.
Down here, the air was cold, damp and a little suffocating.
Ian stepped closer, his hand still hidden, and Poppy took an involuntary step back, bumping into Sue, who was still right behind her.
She heard the woman laugh; high-pitched and echoey. It sounded almost eerie in the small space.
‘Steady up, darling,’ she said, her hands landing on Poppy’s arms.
‘Sorry,’ Poppy apologised instinctively.
‘The floor is a little uneven down here. We don’t want you having any kind of accident. I keep telling Ian we really should do something about it.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘So, what do you think of my husband’s cellar?’ she asked. ‘He’s turned it into his little playroom. I suppose it keeps him out of my way, though.’
‘Not bad for a hobby, eh?’ Ian added.
Poppy forced a smile, the coil inside her stomach knotting a little bit tighter. ‘It’s impressive,’ she managed.
‘This is where he likes to keep his favourite things,’ Sue laughed. ‘He’s such a hobbyist.’
Poppy’s mind was spiralling and she was struggling to breathe properly. A sliver of cold slid down her spine.
Ahead of her, Ian shifted his weight, and he started to bring the hand he had hidden his back, forward.
For a split second, something caught the light. A glint of silver.
Poppy’s stomach dropped. Her mind going to the worst possible scenarios.
Knife. Handcuffs. Or worse.
‘We thought you might like it down here,’ Sue told her proudly, as Ian took another step closer.
‘Come on,’ he said gently. ‘Let me show you everything properly.’
Finally, Poppy snapped, as every instinct in her body screamed danger. Without thinking, she spun around and shoved past Sue on the stairs.
‘Poppy—?’
She didn’t stop, her shoulder slamming into the wall as she scrambled back up the staircase, two steps at a time. As she burst through the door into the hallway, her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear anything else.
Behind her, Sue was shouting something. But she didn’t turn around. Instead, she ran for the front door.
Her boots. She needed her boots. Her bag too.
She snatched them up, yanked the door open and stumbled outside into the cold night air.
‘Poppy! Come back!’ Sue’s voice called from inside the house.
Poppy didn’t answer. Instead, she ran down the gravel track, not even considering how painful it was on her bare feet.
There was only one thought on her mind.
She needed to get the hell away from the Pritchards, before they came after her.