‘Tell me what happened,’ Dan says softly.
I go through it again. After a few minutes I take off my jacket. I wince as I have to move my shoulder, still painful. The mark on my forearm is now a settled red bruise. Four fingertips are visible from where the man in the overalls grabbed me.
Dan looks down. I hear the breath catch in his throat.
‘Did Lish do that when he pushed you?’ he demands.
I shake my head.
‘Was that Jed then? Last night?’ His eyes blaze.
‘No, no.’ I quickly explain.
Dan sits back. ‘You’re not safe,’ he says. ‘We need to go to the police and tell them what’s just happened. I’ll fill them in about Lish selling me the drugs, you can show them the letter from Zoe—’
‘Lish took that along with the fake Valium.’ I gulp at my tea.
‘Shit.’ Dan rubs the back of his head. ‘Okay, what about the notebook?’
‘Jed has it.’ I set my tea down. ‘I’m going to go to his office now, tell him Lish pushed me. I’ll make him give me the notebook.’
‘Good.’ Dan takes my hand. The memory of our kiss shoots through my head. ‘I’ll come with you if . . . if you’ll let me. Just to make sure you get there okay.’
We reach the lobby of Jed’s office block. I indicate the lift opposite. ‘I’ll go up, but you should wait here. It’ll just make things worse if Jed sees you.’ As I finish speaking the lift doors open and Jed himself steps out.
He does a double take as he notices me and strides over. ‘Emily?’ He sees Dan and frowns.
‘Er, this is Dan Thackeray.’ I flush, covered in confusion. ‘I was coming up to see you.’
Jed presses his lips together in a thin line. He says nothing. Two men in suits, intent on their conversation, pass close by.
‘I was just attacked . . . on the underground,’ I stammer.
‘What?’ Jed’s eyes fill with alarm. ‘Are you all right, baby? What happened?’
‘I’m okay,’ I falter, the heat rising in my cheeks. ‘But . . . but they . . . someone took my bag and tried to push me onto the tracks.’
Jed’s face pales. ‘Jesus, Emily. Did you see who it was?’
I take a deep breath. ‘It was Lish.’
There’s a long silence. A Tannoy announcement about a fire alarm test sounds overhead.
‘You saw him? You saw Lish push you?’
‘No,’ I admit. ‘I didn’t actually see his face, but it had to be him.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Jed says. ‘What on earth makes you think my son would—?’
‘Because he took the drugs I bought from him,’ Dan interjects. ‘Emily had them in her handbag. Lish took the bag then dumped it after he took out the drugs and some cash.’
Jed blinks rapidly. ‘You took the Valium packs from the kitchen cupboard?’ he demands, ignoring Dan.
‘Yes,’ I concede. ‘I wanted them tested and . . . and, Jed, we really have to go to the police now, it’s—’
‘Stop.’ Jed’s voice is ice cold. He turns to Dan. ‘I’d be grateful if you fucked off now.’ He grips my arm and guides me towards the front door of the office building. He’s pressing on the skin where the young man grabbed me earlier. I wince with the pain but Jed doesn’t notice.
‘Hey.’ Dan is following us. Jed doesn’t look around.
Out on the pavement he hurries me along the first turning, onto a small and deserted side street. He swings me around to face him as Dan pounds angrily up beside me.
‘I’m not leaving until I know Emily is safe,’ Dan says.
‘I’m fine, Dan.’ I turn to Jed. ‘I’m sorry but we need the notebook and we need to go to the police. Now.’
‘Don’t you see you’re playing right into his hands,’ Jed snarls.
‘She’s not. Your son is a murderer. He’s tried to kill Emily twice now and—’
‘I told you to fuck off.’ Jed draws himself up, fists clenched as he rounds on Dan. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing, filling her head with lies about me and my family?’ Spit flies from his mouth.
Dan looks almost as angry as Jed though he is obviously making a huge effort to control himself. ‘No lies,’ he says calmly. ‘Your son sold me drugs. Emily’s nearly been murdered. Twice.’
Jed’s gaze swings round to me again. ‘You have absolutely no proof it was Lish who mugged you,’ he insists. ‘For all you know it could have been him.’ He jerks his thumb at Dan.
‘Jed, please.’
‘Think about it, Emily. Someone took your bag, okay. That kind of thing happens on the tube every day. It was probably an addict, a street criminal. Look at what they took . . . cash and Valium are the things I’d steal from a handbag if I’d just mugged someone in an underground station.’
‘Jed . . .’
‘You said you didn’t see Lish’s face so there’s no evidence it was him who attacked you,’ Jed goes on. ‘Just like you only have Thackeray’s word that the drugs and the notebook belong to Lish. It’s sick and pathetic. And the sickest and most pathetic part is that you’ve fallen for it so easily.’ He shoots the words at me, full of venom.
‘Stop it.’ Dan moves closer. He is breathing heavily, pulsing with rage. ‘How dare you talk like that to her, you hypocrite. You give all this time and help to CASP but when it’s your own son you—’
‘I told you to fuck off already.’ Jed shoves him. Dan stumbles backwards. ‘Stay away from me. Stay away from my fiancée.’
He grabs my arm, hard. Again his fingers press against my bruise.
‘Ow,’ I yelp.
‘Let her go.’ Dan pushes Jed away from me, squaring up to him.
‘Stop it.’ I pull Dan away. ‘I just want the notebook, Jed. I know this is hard, but it’s the right—’
‘Enough.’ Jed reaches for me again but I back away. ‘I’ve destroyed the notebook.’
I gasp, horrified.
‘It was a fake anyway. This whole thing is a fake. A set-up.’ Jed points at Dan. ‘He’s already admitted he made up the drugs thing to get you to help him write a story about me.’
‘I didn’t make anything up,’ Dan insists. ‘And I’ve already told Emily I’m not going to be writing a story. But she’s not safe. If you really cared about her, you’d see that.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’ Jed turns to me. ‘Come on, I’m going to take you home. I’ll take the rest of the day off.’
‘No.’ I stare at him. I can’t believe how he is acting, how much fury is in the way he is looking at me.
‘I’m going home on my own.’ I turn away.
‘Come back here,’ Jed orders.
But I keep on walking: back onto the main street, past Jed’s high-rise office and down the next street towards the tube station, away from them both.
July 2014
So there is good news and bad news. The bad news is that as I predicted Mum went HYSTERICAL when Dad came round last night and told her about him and Emily being engaged. I KNEW she was thinking that he must be coming to see her specially because it wasn’t his weekend to see me and that is why she got all dressed up. He didn’t stay very long and afterwards Mum burst in and said ‘You KNEW!’ and I think she was cross I hadn’t told her though she said she was just cross with Dad . . . ‘so selfish to make you keep such an awful secret’. Mum asked how I felt about Dad and Emily getting married and I didn’t know what to say and Mum went on and said it was a mistake and Dad would regret it and she couldn’t let it happen and OH MY DAYS she actually went to Emily’s work earlier to shout at her which is SO embarrassing. I can just imagine her TOTALLY losing it at Emily like she does at Daddy.
At least there is good news too.
REALLY good. I can’t believe it but Ava has just sent a text. One actually from HER, not with the sender blocked. She has asked me to go to her house tomorrow night for a sleepover. I was supposed to see Marietta Hingis but OBVIOUSLY I cancelled that so I could see Ava. She was SO nice in her text, like sayi
ng she wished we could be friends again and how it’s been SUCH a long time since we hung out together.
I am going to wear my skinny jeans and my black shiny top. The jeans are a bit tight but they are my newest thing – from March. I did get clothes on my birthday in June but Mum chose them and they were HIDEOUS. One of them was actually PINK. How could she think I would wear that? Mum said black doesn’t suit me and that it was a nice pink, not little-girly at all.
She doesn’t understand.
I have shaved ‘down there’ again too, in case we are in the bathroom or whatever and Ava sees. She has an older sister so she is BOUND to know how it’s supposed to look. I am not going to eat while I’m there either, just to make sure Ava doesn’t go back to thinking I’m all fat and stupid again.
I can’t wait. I can’t wait. I can’t wait.
December 2014
I hurry home to pack a change of clothes. My phone lies, switched off, on the bed as I rifle through the chest of drawers. Both Jed and Dan called after I walked away, so I turned the mobile off but I need it now. I set my bag on the floor and power up. Ignoring the missed calls and messages from both men, I hover over my favourites lists. Part of me wants to call Laura, but if she was sceptical about Lish attempting to poison me, then she’ll be even less willing to believe he pushed me in front of a train. I could call Rose, of course. She’d certainly be horrified about what happened at the tube station. No, I can’t face my big sister. She predicted that seeing Dan would lead to trouble with Jed and I can just imagine the reproachful look on her face if I tell her about the kiss. Even if I don’t, I know full well that as she’s offering me a sympathetic hug, she will also sigh and shake her head and be unable to resist pointing out that she was right that I should have stayed away from Dan. In the end I call my brother at work and tell him Jed and I have had a row and that I need a place to stay tonight. He tells me to swing by his office and he’ll give me his key. I’m just adding my toothbrush to my bag when the doorbell rings – a long, continuous tone. Who on earth is that?
I pick up the bag and hurry downstairs.
I can’t believe it. Standing outside in a pink coat, her hands twisting nervously, is Zoe.
‘May I come in?’ She sounds as anxious as she looks.
I step back, gesturing towards the living room. My heart is hammering. Does she mean me harm? There’s nothing about the way she’s holding herself that suggests she’s about to whip out a knife. Anyway, surely that isn’t Zoe’s style. She’s the sort of person who gets others to do her dirty work for her.
‘Zoe?’
She’s looking around the living room. ‘Gosh, but it’s very John Lewis,’ she says, a note of tartness creeping into her voice. ‘I’m astonished Jed let you pick out that sofa.’
I stare at the sofa. It is beige and chunky, a neutral partner to the larger, older couch which Jed brought with him when he bought the house for us in March. Stylish without being obviously designer, we did indeed buy it from John Lewis soon after moving in. Jed wanted me to have a say in picking out a new piece of furniture and the sofa was my choice. A cacophony of questions race through my head:
How does Zoe know I chose the sofa? Or where we bought it from?
Did Jed tell her?
What else has he told her about us?
I fold my arms. ‘If you’ve come around to sneer at my home you can leave right now.’
Zoe meets my gaze. I haven’t seen her properly since Dee Dee’s death, though I’ve had reports of her rages and her upsets on an almost daily basis. There is something horribly defeated about her face, a sadness that underlies everything. She doesn’t look like she intends to hurt me.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude. This is just . . . hard . . .’
I sit on the arm of the sofa. Zoe lowers herself into the armchair. She has nude shoes and a Kate Spade handbag that accents the buttons on her coat perfectly. I tug at the arms of my jumper, trying not to feel intimidated.
‘What’s this about?’ I demand.
‘Lish,’ she says. Her voice cracks slightly as she says his name. ‘Jed’s told me what you think he did . . . at my behest.’
My breath hitches in my throat. Jed has confided in her? Why did he do that? And why didn’t he tell me he had?
‘Right,’ I say.
Zoe leans forward, her face creased with anxiety. ‘I’ve come round to tell you that there is no way I would ever try to hurt you. Not physically. I admit I was angry when Jed left me for you and there was a time after . . . after Dee Dee when I fantasized about something bad happening to you. Lish knows how upset I was. He’s an adult, I couldn’t exactly hide it from him, but it’s just madness to think—’
‘He’s dealing drugs, Zoe.’ I meet her gaze head on. ‘He had access to potassium cyanide in the summer.’
She looks away. ‘It’s not true,’ she says. ‘Jed says that reporter made everything up, invented a notebook and everything, got people to lie about Lish. He reckons that at first the guy was trying to get a story on him and that now he’s after you. Jed says he’s an ex of yours. Is that true?’
‘Yes, he’s an ex,’ I admit. ‘But I don’t see how Dan could possibly have made up everything you think he has. The notebook was full of detail and I heard people in this student pub we went to give Lish’s name.’
‘I’m not saying drug dealing doesn’t go on,’ Zoe says earnestly. ‘I’m just saying it’s not Lish that’s doing it. Jed went down to his uni and looked into it.’
I stare at her. Is that true? If so it’s yet another thing Jed hasn’t told me about.
‘Jed questioned people all over campus,’ Zoe goes on. ‘No one gave up Lish’s name. Not one single person.’
‘Well, they wouldn’t, would they?’ Not to a bloody lawyer in a pinstripe. I look down. All the evidence I have against Lish filters through my head: the bag of drugs, the notebook, the Facebook post, the money in his backpack, the furious look he gave me, the tube attack. It’s all gone or too vague to be useful. There’s nothing tangible I can present to prove my case. And yet I’m sure Lish is guilty.
‘Your son hates me,’ I say.
‘Hating you doesn’t make him a murderer or a drug dealer.’
There’s a long pause. I shuffle, feeling self-conscious, on the arm of the sofa. ‘There was this text, back when you were still in Corsica. It said “it should have been you”. Should have been, as in literally was meant to be.’
Zoe bites her lip. ‘That was me,’ she confesses. ‘I told you I was angry. Beside myself, in fact. But I didn’t really mean . . . I was just lashing out.’ She stands up. ‘Look, I’ve said what I came here to say. I’m sorry I sent that text. But you have to understand it wasn’t meant as a threat in any way. I’m just begging you not to cause any trouble for Lish. Please.’
‘I can’t promise anything,’ I say.
‘But you do believe I didn’t tell him to hurt you?’
I think back to Rose’s expression of disbelief when I told her I’d read Zoe’s letter to her son as an open command to murder me. Zoe’s eyes gleam with misery.
‘Yes,’ I say. And it’s the truth.
Zoe nods, her expression easing a little. ‘Good.’ She gets up. ‘So . . . well . . . just please think carefully before you do anything.’
The big graphics agency where Martin works part-time has its main office on the ground floor of a modern block. I’m sitting in reception waiting for Martin to appear, thinking about Zoe’s visit, when Rose’s ex, Simon, saunters out of a door marked IT Section A. In all the turmoil of the morning, I’d forgotten about him working here. Simon whistles as he walks towards the reception desk, picks up an envelope and turns to leave. I shrink down in my seat, hoping he won’t notice me. A strained chat with a man who unceremoniously dumped my sister is the last thing I feel like dealing with at this point.
‘Hi, Emily.’
Great.
I look up. Simon is beaming down at me. He has
a doughy, comfortable face with hooded eyes and a seriously receding hairline. I force a smile onto my own face.
‘Hi there.’
‘You waiting for your brother?’
‘Yes.’
There’s an awkward pause. The clock over the reception desk ticks noisily into the silence. Somewhere in the distance a phone rings.
‘Er, how’s Rose?’ A pink flush creeps over Simon’s cheeks.
‘Fine. Looking great, actually, and doing really, really well.’ I sit up straighter, on my guard. I’ve got nothing against Simon himself, but family is family. Anyway I’m sure Rose wouldn’t want me to give the impression she was still suffering from Simon breaking up with her more than six months after the event.
‘Ah, well, Rose always looked great,’ Simon says wistfully. He fidgets with the edge of the envelope in his hand. ‘Is she, er, you know . . . with anyone these days?’
I stare at him blankly. He’s giving every indication of still holding a massive candle for my sister. Which makes no sense. He dumped her.
‘It’s just I was wondering about calling her,’ Simon hurries on. ‘But obviously, if she’s seeing someone . . .’
I clear my throat. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure I follow.’
Simon looks around him. The reception area is empty, the receptionist behind the desk poring over a clipboard. He sits down next to me and lowers his voice.
‘Do you think she would mind if I called? I mean, before, she said she needed space . . . time . . . but it’s been a while and, if there isn’t anyone serious . . .?’
Another pause. ‘Sorry, but it sounds like you’re saying Rose broke up with you,’ I venture eventually. ‘And, maybe I’ve got it all wrong, but I thought you broke up with her.’
‘No.’ Simon’s face is the colour of beetroot. I’m pretty certain mine is a similar shade. ‘No, I don’t know where you got that idea from but no, I didn’t break up with her. She, er, she said she needed space . . . like I said . . .’