‘Do you want me to ask anyone else?’ Dan asks, putting his own glass on the table beside mine.
‘No.’ I can’t quite take in that Dan was right about Lish’s dealing. Not that peddling a bit of Valium and Vicodin connects him in any way to potassium cyanide, but still . . .
‘Are you all right?’ Dan asks. ‘Do you want me to take you to the station?’
I shake my head. The truth is that the exchange with the guy in the grubby T-shirt has raised more questions than it has answered. Now I’ve had this fresh and disturbing insight into Lish’s secret life I need to know more.
Beside me Dan watches and waits. I chew on my lip, an idea forming in my head. Then I turn to him, meeting the stone grey of his eyes full on.
‘I want to look in Lish’s room in his student flat,’ I say. ‘See if we can find out more about the stuff he’s dealing in, maybe even get a hold of some of the illegal supplies. It’ll be proof – well, a starting point for me to talk to Jed . . . maybe a proper police investigation.’
Dan blinks, startled. ‘You’re saying you want to break in to his home?’
‘No. I don’t know. I just . . .’ I tail off, uncertain exactly what I am proposing.
Dan looks thoughtful. ‘Does Lish live on his own?’ he asks.
‘No, Jed bought him a three-bed flat in Portswood.’
Dan raises his eyebrows. ‘He bought his son an entire flat?’
I shrug. ‘He said it would be cheaper in the end than rent for another two years. He pays for Lish’s clothes, his iPhone, everything, he’s very generous.’ I stop, wondering why on earth I’m bigging Jed up so much. ‘Anyway, Lish rents out the other two rooms to students, friends. I don’t know if they’ll be in or not.’
‘Let’s hope so.’ Dan gives me a mischievous grin and stands up. ‘I’ve got an idea. I’ll explain on the way.’
I grin back, feeling suddenly reckless, then grab my jacket and follow him to the door. The freezing air outside stings my skin. The sky is still bright and clear. It’s a beautiful afternoon. By the time we’ve reached the car our cheeks have a rosy glow and our noses are pink from the cold.
Dan finds Lish’s road on his sat nav and we drive straight there while Dan explains his plan. It’s almost 2 p.m., the sun about as high in the sky as it’s going to get at this point in December. I stare at the light against the trees and go over what I’m going to have to say in order to get myself inside.
‘So you’re sure neither of the other tenants will recognize you?’ Dan asks.
‘Definitely not,’ I say. ‘I’ve never met them. I just know there’s a girl and a boy.’
A moment later the sat nav tells us we have reached our destination. Dan slows and I peer out of the window, examining the buildings as we pass. I’ve seen pictures of Lish’s modern apartment block and I know it’s on the corner of a road with a large hedge in front, so I’m hopeful it won’t be too hard to recognize.
Dan drives up and down. On the second pass I spot it.
‘That’s it.’ I point.
Dan parks his car on the street opposite the hedge and stows his iPad in the glove compartment.
‘How come you’ve never been here before?’ he asks.
‘Lish only moved in at the end of last term and Jed and Zoe brought him down together. I, er, I wasn’t involved . . .’
‘. . . because the former Mrs Kennedy doesn’t want anything to do with the soon-to-be?’
‘She hates my guts for stealing her husband,’ I say, then feel the urge to defend myself and the affair that led to Jed leaving his wife. ‘Not that it was really like that. Jed and Zoe were virtually separated when I met him. I mean, it wasn’t like I seduced him away from her. He just . . . it just wasn’t that simple.’
A beat passes. ‘It never is.’ Dan is still gazing at the drive beyond the hedge that leads to Lish’s student flat.
I shoot a look at him. Is he being sarcastic? I can’t read his expression.
‘I’m just saying Jed was desperately unhappy in his marriage,’ I go on, hating how defensive I sound but unable to stop myself. I don’t want Dan to judge me harshly. Which is ridiculous. Of all people, Dan has absolutely no right to criticize me for anything I do in my personal life. And why should I care about his opinion anyway? ‘Zoe treated him like shit,’ I persist. ‘She still does.’
Dan is still looking out of the car window. ‘I’m sure it was complicated,’ he says, his voice soft and low. ‘Anyway, I can’t blame him for falling in love with you . . .’ he turns and his eyes fix on mine ‘. . . having been there myself.’
For a second the air between us seems to crackle, as if all the oxygen is being sucked out of it. Then Dan turns away and opens his door and the cold air rushes in.
I follow him out of the car, feeling unsettled. I tug my jacket around me and we stand on the pavement, looking across at the apartment block.
‘Which flat is it?’ Dan asks.
‘Ground floor, 1B.’ I peer at the front of the ground floor. The curtains are drawn and there’s no sign of anyone inside. ‘Perhaps it’s empty after all.’
‘Let’s hope not,’ Dan says. He goes over the plan one last time. ‘Okay?’ he finishes.
I bite my lip, unsure now I’m here if I can really go as far as he’s suggesting. And yet, if it works, I will get to explore Lish’s room without the other residents even knowing I’m there.
The image of Lish’s disgusted face in the hall mirror flashes before my mind’s eye. I have to find out more about his drugs connection. If there’s a stash in his room, I’ll have something concrete to take to Jed.
Or the police.
I owe it to Dee Dee to try at least.
I shiver. I mustn’t get ahead of myself.
‘Let’s go,’ I say.
And together we cross the road.
June 2014
It’s STILL going on at school. Not the pointing and talking so much, but the ignoring me, even though Sam happened around my birthday which was over three weeks ago. I was at Daddy and Emily’s for the weekend and it’s just like last weekend and the weekends before that . . . nobody calls me or includes me in anything. Ava and Poppy have, like, decided they don’t want to be friends since what happened with Sam, which doesn’t even make sense. I’ve tried to tell them that I got all confused when I was with him but Ava said I had some serious thinking to do and Poppy said she thought I was maybe attention seeking because of my parents getting a divorce. It was weird, actually, because she acted all like she felt sorry for me – and I thought maybe she was, after all her parents split up too – but afterwards I saw her talking to Georgia Dutton who she’s got REALLY friendly with now and they looked over at me like I was a disease they might catch.
I don’t even feel anything about it now, like it’s just the way things are. I’m doing my homework and paying attention in lessons and it’s just during break time and after school that it’s bad. Mum’s still upset about the divorce. She keeps asking me how I feel about it. I know she wants me to say I’m really upset too and that I hate Emily, but I don’t like saying that because it feels mean to Daddy. Anyway, the truth is – and I can’t tell Mum this OBVIOUSLY – but I like Emily. She’s really pretty and she’s fun and she makes Daddy laugh. She’s cool, too. She teaches little kids who are, like, SO cute and she talks to me like she cares how I am but without pushing me into saying stuff or trying to be like she’s all ‘my mum’. She wears great make-up too and has awesome clothes. She lets me go through all her stuff and doesn’t mind at all. I think she sees things in people too, not like being psychic but just understanding them. She knew I was upset soon as I arrived on Friday. I don’t know how. She hadn’t seen it the time before, but maybe I was trying harder to cover it up then. Anyway, earlier today when Daddy was up in his office and we were in the kitchen, I was checking my phone to see if Ava or Poppy had sent me a message which of course they hadn’t and Emily was making bread in the breadmaker which is funny because I rememb
er Mum saying she wanted one and Daddy saying ‘women never use things like that, they just clutter up the kitchen’ and here he is now and Emily has one and DOES use it.
So Emily looks over and asks if I’m all right and I say ‘sure’ and Emily says ‘Ah, well, if you ever need to talk, if there’s ever a problem . . .’ and I didn’t even look up but she carries on and says ‘my parents died in a car crash when I was a bit younger than you so I know about problems’. And then I DID look up because I really wasn’t expecting that, like Daddy never said a THING. And I said ‘really, you mean in a car accident, all sudden?’ and Emily looked sad and said ‘yes, afterwards my sister looked after us, me and my brother, I’m the youngest like you’. And I didn’t know what to say so I just looked at her and Emily went on and said her big sister was called Rose and was like half a mum and half a sister to her and her big brother was called Martin and he was five years older than her, like Lish is six years older than me so almost exactly the same. And then she said she hoped I’d meet Rose and Martin soon and I still didn’t know what to say so I just nodded but when I left for Daddy to bring me home earlier I gave her a big hug.
December 2014
Dan and I reach the hedgerow that separates the front yard of the small apartment block from the street. ‘Okay,’ Dan says. ‘Give me the ring.’
I tug my diamond engagement ring off my finger. Dan examines it for a moment. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he says.
‘Thanks,’ I say, though in actual fact I had nothing to do with picking the thing out. Jed presented it to me on my birthday in July, eyes shining, irrepressible, irresistible. He told me how he’d already spoken to Dee Dee and Lish about his plan to propose, and how delighted they had been. Lish must have been lying about that. Oh, God, if Jed knew I was here – with Dan, spying on Lish – he would feel betrayed. I feel a deep twinge of guilt, then shake myself. This has to happen. And better that I spare Jed any details until I know beyond doubt the truth about Lish’s drug dealing.
Dan crouches down and presses the ring into the crusty earth. The diamond sparkles in the bright sun.
‘Will it be safe?’ I ask.
‘Yes, once we’re past the next thirty seconds,’ Dan says with a grin. ‘Ready?’
I nod, then creep around the far side of the hedge. From here I can see the front door of the block. Dan crosses the front yard. Weeds poke up between the broken concrete slabs. I shiver as Dan reaches the door. He straightens his jumper, smooths his hair. He rings the doorbell.
A few moments later a girl – presumably Lish’s female flatmate – opens it. She looks about his age, in skinny jeans and hot pink DM boots. Her long dark hair is dyed blue at the ends – a straight line, as if it’s been dipped in ink. Dan immediately steps back, head down, slightly hunched.
‘I’m sorry to bother you.’ He offers up an anxious smile. The girl stares at him suspiciously.
My heart thuds.
‘I was just passing. I’m in a bit of a rush, actually. I saw some jewellery over by the hedge. I wondered if someone here dropped it?’
‘Not me.’ The girl starts to shut the door, but Dan is talking again.
‘Okay, look, I’m not usually such a good Samaritan, but it’s a beautiful ring. I don’t know much, but I can tell it’s worth over ten grand. I’m in a crazy hurry to get to my mum in hospital, otherwise I’d take it to the police myself, but someone should look after it. The owner must be going mad.’ Dan backs away, pointing to the hedge. ‘It’s just on the ground there.’
The girl is still looking at him suspiciously, but she is no longer shutting the door.
Dan reaches the hedge. He points to the ground where the ring is, then holds up his hands.
‘I’ve got to go, do what you like, but it’s there and someone should look after it.’ Then he turns and crosses the road.
I watch the girl. She walks out of the building a little way so she can see Dan reach his car. He gets into it without looking around, revs the engine and drives away. I hold my breath. The girl glances back at the building. The front door is still open, but no one is around.
She strides purposefully over to the hedge. As she disappears from sight, I race across the yard. Not looking back I tear inside, carefully closing the front door behind me, as Dan instructed. The door to flat 1B is on my right, on the latch. I push it open, fly inside and shut the door. Dan said I could allow myself ten minutes. I need to make every second of each one count.
It’s a small flat and I find Lish’s bedroom in seconds. It’s the largest of the three and easily identifiable from the photo of Dee Dee pinned to the wall above the desk, which is cluttered with text books and empty beer bottles.
I rummage through the books, pushing each one aside in turn. I open the drawers. They are stuffed with clothes apart from the bottom one, which contains a collection of hair gels and a pack of green condoms.
I get on my knees and peer under the bed. Two cans of Lynx and a sheaf of papers nestle beside a suitcase. I pull the papers out, they’re just handouts from Lish’s Media course.
I open the suitcase. More clothes.
I shove it all back under the bed and cast around the room. Outside the flat I can hear the dim buzz of a doorbell. Lish’s flatmate has obviously returned and, as we planned, is locked out of the building. I’m guessing she is trying all the other flats, hoping someone will buzz her through. I gulp. I’m running out of time. Where else might Lish keep his drugs?
My eyes light on the wardrobe in the corner of the room. Clothes litter the floor around it. I race over and fling open the doors. It’s a large closet with shelves on one side and a hanging rail across the other. I search the shelves methodically, pulling out the jumpers and socks randomly hurled inside. I come across sweet wrappers and two empty cans of beer. No drugs of any kind.
I sink to the floor to ransack the bottom shelf. I pull out two pairs of trainers. Outside in the hallway I can hear the girl’s voice, loud and clear. Someone has obviously let her into the main building, though she is still locked out of the flat itself. She is swearing, angry that the latch must have slipped. She doesn’t mention my ring to whoever she’s talking to.
My heart drums against my ribs as my fingers fumble at the very back of the shelf. There’s a piece of paper here. No, an envelope, addressed to Lish; something about the handwriting is familiar. I am shaking as I pull out the letter inside. It’s dated 26 July, a few days after my birthday and Jed’s proposal, and is written in elegant, spidery writing over two crisp white pages. My stomach clenches painfully as I read. The girl’s voice in the hallway fades away.
Dearest Lishy
It is late. I am alone and unable to sleep. Your father’s words are going around in my head. Earlier tonight he told me about his wedding plans with that whore of his. He said he has already given you his news. Stupid, stupid man, forcing you and poor Dee Dee to keep this ugly, horrible secret from me. I have been patient, waiting for the scales to lift from his eyes but they have not. So I must make sure, now, they do not fall on yours. Yes. It is time for you to know the truth about your father and his whore who, if we are not careful, may end up taking everything from us.
Firstly your dad: I hate to have to tell you this but he is a weak, stupid man who was unfaithful to me many times throughout your childhood. I stayed with him not just for your and Dee Dee’s sake, but because I loved him and because none of the women he had his passing flings with actually threatened the heart of our marriage. That remained – and indeed remains – a pure and beautiful thing. My darling, I don’t expect you to understand any of this, but you can and must know that despite his weakness your father never once thought of leaving us and his family home until that evil whore came into his life.
I shake my head. This isn’t true. Can’t be. Jed told me many times how the marriage had been over for years, how he had only stayed as long as he did for the children.
I know Emily Campbell has a pretty face and that she is young and, as the saying has
it, there is no fool like an old fool, especially where middle-aged men and pretty girls are concerned. But this one is a home-wrecker.
So . . . here it is, the reason why I am putting this in a letter which I hope you will destroy, rather than an email which will live online forever. The whore does not, I repeat not, love your father. Her own parents died when she was eleven years old – a drink driving incident, I believe – and she is clearly looking for a father figure to look after her.
The first page of the letter ends. I force myself back to the girl’s voice in the hall.
‘Yeah, I think Lish left it with 3A,’ she is saying. ‘I’d call and ask him but my bloody mobile’s locked in the flat with everything else.’ Footsteps on the stairs, then silence.
I look back down at the letter. Heart in my mouth, I turn to the second and final page.
That whore just wants your father’s attention. And his money. I have spoken to people about this, my darling, and it is painfully clear she is a gold digger, intent only on getting hold of your father’s money, of your rightful inheritance. She will take it and spend it and there will be nothing left for you and your sister. Oh Lish, I have no one to turn to except you, my brave boy. I intend to challenge the whore myself, but I suspect it will not be enough. I will need your help to get through this. I’m sorry to ask anything of you, but there is no choice. Your stupid father and that bitch of his have put us all in this position. It will only get worse. Your sister is miserable. She is comfort eating and withdrawn into herself, unwilling to talk to me about her feelings as she once did.
The whore must be stopped. And somehow you must help me stop her. It will be a liberation for us all, a good thing, an act of kindness to remove her and her evil from our lives. She is not human, no human could inflict this pain so callously, so happily. She cannot be allowed to get away with it, to take everything from us. She cannot be allowed.
I love you, my darling, more than I can say.