Back downstairs, I examine the contents of the fridge, but there’s nothing much inspiring in there. Maybe I should order that pizza we were going to have yesterday. Yes. That sounds good. A family evening of pizza and a movie. The boys would love that on a Sunday night.
My phone pings. I take it out of my bag and see the battery’s almost dead, so I plug it into the charger and check my messages. The latest one is from a mobile number I don’t recognise. As I read it, I feel a nervous surge of hope:
I can get the charges against you dropped. Meet me at Ashridge Falls Boathouse at 11.30 p.m. tonight.
That’s odd. Why would whoever it is want to meet me there? And 11.30 p.m. seems like a crazy hour to meet up. I text back:
Who is this?
I wait for a minute or so but, frustratingly, there’s no reply. Could it be from Saul Barker? I haven’t added his number to my phone yet, so I suppose it’s possible… maybe he’s found out that Sophie’s lying. But I can’t imagine that he’d choose such a strange venue so late at night. I root around in my bag until I locate his business card. I compare the number on the card to the number on my phone. They don’t match, but maybe Saul has more than one phone. Or maybe it’s from Ash. But I don’t think so; surely he would call round or have me come into the station. It doesn’t seem like the kind of message either Ash or Saul would send.
And then I realise that I’m being dense. This text has to be from Sophie. But if it is, then what’s she playing at? And why the sudden change of heart?
Thirty-Three
FIONA
Sipping my warm G & T, I stare around my office, running my fingers across the marble desk. I pick up the hammered-brass pen pot and lay it down again, let my gaze drift over the art-deco black-framed windows and the carefully chosen artwork on the walls. This beautiful room that used to feel like a sanctuary is tainted. It doesn’t even feel like mine anymore. What the hell am I even doing, skulking here, alone on a Sunday afternoon? Aside from the fact that I’ve never bought alcohol to drink on my own before – I’ve always been a social drinker rather than a solo drinker, but right now drinking feels like the only thing that will do. The only way to dull the fear.
After I left Kelly’s place, I couldn’t face going home to Nathan, so I came here instead. The tax inspectors won’t return until tomorrow, so this could be the only chance I get to enjoy sitting in my office in peace. It’s only a matter of time before HMRC discover what I’ve done. I don’t know what will be scarier – going to jail or facing Nathan when he finds out. And I don’t even want to think about what those threatening texts mean, or who they’re from. I decide that, for now at least, I’m going to ignore them. At this moment in time, I have far more pressing things to worry about.
Faced with the realisation that my carefully ordered life could collapse at any moment, I have to face the fact that the only reason I got into this tax mess is because I’ve been trying to live up to the impossible standards Nathan sets for me.
A few years ago I wore a dress from a cheap high-street store. It was a lovely dress – nothing wrong with it at all. Nathan asked me where I bought it, and when I told him he replied that if I wanted clients to think my business was cheap and classless, then ‘by all means carry on dressing like a pleb’. His words, although delivered in a jokey tone and with a smile, chilled me, because I saw in his eyes that he would never accept anything less than perfect.
I drain my drink and pour another slug of gin and a slosh of tonic into the glass. It doesn’t go down as easily without ice and lemon, but it’ll do okay. The effect will be the same.
I know my husband can seem unreasonable at times, but it’s only because I’ve never pulled him up on it. I never pushed back. The thing is, we enjoy the same things – glamour, beauty, perfection, control. I’ve let myself follow his unwritten set of rules. Rules that keep everything from descending into chaos. Only the chaos has managed to creep in anyway.
If only I had someone I could talk to about it. Someone other than Nathan who might help give me some clarity. Who could help guide me back to that place of lightness where we both started out. Before it all became too restrictive and dark. My parents are nice enough people but they’re next to useless when it comes to talking about the big stuff. For a moment, I allow my mind to dip into the past. When I got into all that trouble at school, they were barely there for me. My mum, well, she just cried a lot, and my dad didn’t say a whole lot of anything. It was all simply an unfortunate incident that was swept under the carpet.
I tried to talk to Kelly about it earlier, but I realised it wasn’t the time. No matter how strongly Kelly assured me that she wanted to know, that it would help take her mind off her own troubles if I talked about mine, she doesn’t need that kind of extra stress at the moment. Not with what she’s going through. So I lied, assuring her that I would tell Nathan about my financial problems. She seemed satisfied that I was telling the truth. Happy that she had helped me to resolve my issue. But if Kelly knew what Nathan is really like, then she would know that there’s no way I could ever tell him the truth.
My only other friend is Tia. And she’s got her hands full with her kids. Anyway, who am I kidding, the two of us aren’t nearly as close as we used to be. If I’m honest, I wasn’t happy that she started going out with Ed after the two of us finished. I didn’t think it was a very considerate thing for her to do to a friend. It violated our girl code. And, quite truthfully, Tia’s a bit of a princess. She doesn’t know how lucky she is to have Ed – he does everything for her, worships the ground she walks on, but all I’ve heard her do is moan about how he works such long hours.
I realise again that I might be just a teensy bit jealous of Tia, and that makes me uncomfortable. I knew back then that Ed wasn’t the right man for me, but that doesn’t stop me dreaming about what might have been. Conjuring up the fantasy thatI’mthe one he loves. That Rosie and Leo are my children. That I’m living this carefree, uncomplicated life with a kind and caring man like Ed. The idea of being in that type of pressure-free relationship sends me almost light-headed with longing.
Giving a deep sigh, I lean back in my chair. I’ve always been the strong friend – the one without any problems. I’ve never been one to moan or complain. I would hate to be seen as needy. So what should I do? I can’t bear the idea of therapy. Of opening up my life to a complete stranger. I know a lot of people swear by it, but I’m scared of the types of questions they might ask. Of the feelings and emotions they might dredge up.
My whole body tenses as my phone vibrates with a text, the warm glow from my G&T already fading as I realise it must be Nathan wondering when I’m coming home.Shit, I shouldn’t be drinking. If I arrive home half-cut, there’s no telling what he’ll do. My skin prickles with dread and my brain switches to full alert. He probably thinks I’m still with Kelly. If I tell him where I really am, he’ll be annoyed that I’ve gone to the office on a Sunday. We always said that Sunday would be the one day where we didn’t work. Where we devoted time to one another. But the thought of going home makes me literally want to vomit. That can’t be good. Maybe I should ignore the text. Turn off my phone and pretend it ran out of battery…
Reluctantly, I steel myself to look at the screen.
It’s a text from an unknown number. I exhale and relax.Thank you, God.I realise that I’ve had a narrow escape this time. It wasn’t a message from my husband, but this has been a wake-up call – he could call or text at any moment, and then it will be too late. I should get myself back home before Nathan starts to worry. Before he starts to feel annoyed that I’ve stayed out too long.
And then I realise that it’s the same unknown number as before. It’s from the same person who sent me those threatening texts. As I read it, my pulse begins to race as I understand that this person is behind all of it.
Hello, Fiona. I can make Mr Taxman disappear. Meet me tonight.
Thirty-Four
TIA
I pick my way along the edge of the lake, the beam from my torch bobbing up and down, illuminating the path ahead. Am I crazy for coming down here alone at night to meet goodness knows who? What possible other choice do I have? It’s either come here and meet the person who’s been making my life a misery or stay home and risk them sending those awful images to everyone I know, including my husband.
The lake itself is black and still, the indigo sky studded with stars and a grey sliver of moon. Luckily, Ed isn’t working tonight, but I had to lie to him, telling him I was going to Kelly’s. Hopefully, after tonight, I’ll never have to lie to him again. But maybe that’s wishful thinking on my part. This isn’t going to be a straightforward meeting, or why would they have gone to the bother of the photos in the first place?
As I walk, instead of fear, a gritty anger begins to flash through my veins, hot and furious. How dare this person screw with my life like this? How dare they try to intimidate and scare me? What could I have possibly done that’s so bad? If I find out it’s Fiona, I’ll… I’ll… Well, let’s just say she won’t get away with it. And if it’s not Fiona, then I’m going to demand a bloody good explanation. I push away the thought that there’s the tiniest chance the photographs could be real. That the man in the photo is the person I’m going to be meeting tonight. That I could be putting myself in serious danger…
