Destroy Me Page 13

  ‘What does she say?’ I ask tightly, the churning in my stomach starting up again.

  Georgia frowns. ‘It’s so ridiculous. She’s got this crazy idea in her head,’ she laughs lightly, but doesn’t quite meet my eyes. ‘She thinks you look like a suspect in that murder near the park. You must have heard about it? It’s been all over social media.’

  I nod. ‘Yes, I heard something about it,’ I say vaguely. ‘A woman was stabbed, right?’

  She shivers. ‘That’s right. I don’t watch the news as a rule. It’s always so negative, but this story’s been difficult to avoid.’

  So, Georgia didn’t see the news report last night, I think. That explains a lot.

  ‘Everyone’s been talking about it,’ she continues. ‘The woman who was murdered, she was in her own home too. Apparently, she let him in.’ Georgia shudders. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it? Anyway, Marsha is convinced they had this photofit on the news that looked like you.’

  ‘Really?’ I try to laugh. I look around the garden searching for another topic of conversation. ‘Where’s Harry’s dad, by the way? Is he working?’

  ‘Don’t ask,’ she says, rolling her eyes and smiling. ‘It’s a sore subject at the moment. He’s a dentist and he’s always at work, that man. I feel like he puts his work before me and the kids. How about your ex? What does he do? Have you been divorced long?’

  ‘Dylan’s father is a teacher – a maths teacher. We’re separated, not divorced yet. We broke up a few months ago.’

  Georgia looks sympathetic. ‘Oh, I’m sorry. What happened? Tell me if I’m being too nosy.’

  ‘No, it’s okay. He cheated on me with another teacher at the school where he works. They went on a school trip together to Switzerland and, well, one thing led to another, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh my God – that’s terrible. Poor you. I don’t know what I’d do if Luke did something like that. I think I’d chop off his balls.’

  I laugh uneasily. Did I hear correctly? Did she call her husband Luke? It must be a coincidence.

  From the front of the house, we hear a muffled thud of the door slamming.

  ‘That’ll be him now,’ says Georgia. ‘Speak of the devil.’

  I stand up, my heart hammering. ‘Well, I probably . . .’ I begin nervously. But the words die on my lips as a tall, handsome man breezes out through the French doors.

  ‘Hey,’ he says, then breaks off, standing stock-still in the doorway. The flabbergasted look in his beautiful green eyes mirrors the shock and panic that I’m feeling. It can’t be . . .

  But it is.

  Nineteen

  I’m staring at him, unable to move or speak, opening and closing my mouth as if all the oxygen’s been sucked out of the atmosphere.

  Fortunately, at that moment, the baby spits out her dummy and starts crying, and Georgia doesn’t appear to notice anything because she’s busy trying to pacify her.

  ‘Luke, this is Cat, Dylan’s mum,’ she says, glancing up at her husband with an amused smile. ‘There’s no need to look so surprised. I told you Harry was having a friend round.’ She lifts the baby out of the rocker, sucks on the dummy and then pops it back in the baby’s mouth. ‘I apologise for my husband, Cat. He doesn’t have any manners sometimes.’

  He recovers before I do. ‘Nice to meet you, Cat,’ he says, holding out his hand and smiling blandly.

  I stand up and take it automatically, ‘Nice to meet you too,’ I mutter, trying to censor an image of that hand on my naked thigh and simultaneously trying to avoid his eyes, which seem to be burning into me.

  ‘Well, how was work?’ Georgia asks him, seemingly oblivious to the tension in the air.

  And he’s chatting smoothly about patients, fillings and root canals, but I can’t really hear what he’s saying. There’s a drumming in my ears and I feel dizzy and nauseous, as if I’m about to pass out.

  ‘Are you okay, Cat?’ Georgia is asking.

  ‘Um, actually I feel a bit sick,’ I blurt. ‘I couldn’t use your toilet, could I?’

  ‘Sure. It’s upstairs. Second door on the right. The downstairs is broken, sorry.’

  I dive into the house and dash upstairs. It wasn’t a lie. I do feel sick. The man I slept with the other night is downstairs. I should have realised he was married. But to Georgia? I could never have guessed that.

  I lock the toilet door, remove the child’s seat and stand over the toilet bowl heaving. But nothing comes out, just phlegm. I wipe my lips. Then I pull the chain, close the lid and sit down, thinking hard.

  Of course, I feel terrible about Georgia and incredibly embarrassed, but if I can get over the initial shock and humiliation and look at this in the cold light of logic, then this is actually a piece of luck. I now know who Luke is. There’s no hiding for him any more. I can make him explain why he lied to the police and I can force him to provide me with an alibi. I stand up and wash my hands, splashing cold water on my face and staring at my reflection, trying to work out how to get him on his own so that I can confront him and get him to tell the truth.

  As it turns out, I don’t need a plan because, as I leave the bathroom, he’s barrelling towards me across the landing. His face is like thunder. The polite veneer completely gone. He looks furious and quite frightening.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he hisses savagely, grabbing my arm, digging his fingers into soft flesh.

  ‘I didn’t know Georgia was your wife, I swear,’ I whisper, trying to extricate my arm.

  He loosens his grip a little and looks at me as if he’s trying to decide whether to believe me or not.

  ‘I had no idea,’ I say. I’m not sure why I’m being so defensive. It’s me who should be angry. Not him. And I am angry, I realise. Furiously angry. How dare he blame this on me?

  ‘Anyway, why did you lie to the police?’ I blurt.

  He glances over his shoulder. Georgia has moved inside. I can hear the baby grizzling downstairs and Georgia talking to her in a sing-song voice. Luke looks panicked. ‘We can’t talk about that now,’ he says. ‘Meet me tomorrow.’

  ‘All right. Where? When?’

  ‘At my surgery. I work at Cotswold Dentists on Blackjack Street. Come at lunchtime, twelve o’clock, and I’ll be there. In the meantime, don’t you fucking dare say anything to Georgia.’

  ‘I won’t, I—’ I start. But he’s not listening. He opens the door to his bedroom and slams the door firmly behind him before I have to time to finish my thought.

  ‘You poor thing,’ says Georgia, as I walk unsteadily down the stairs. ‘Can I get you anything?’

  ‘No, I’ll be all right,’ I murmur weakly. ‘But I think I need to get home.’

  ‘What, really?’ She looks dismayed. ‘But you only just got here. Do you want Dylan to stay? Luke could drop him off at his dad’s later.’

  ‘No thank you. That’s really kind, but he doesn’t like staying places without me or Theo,’ I lie. ‘Another time, okay?’

  I can’t wait to get out of there. The thought of making polite conversation with Georgia and pretending every­thing’s okay, with Luke just upstairs, makes me feel nauseous. To my relief, Dylan doesn’t make a fuss when I tell him we’re leaving, and Luke stays upstairs in his room.

  ‘I’ll call you,’ Georgia says, as I bundle Dylan into the car. ‘Hope you feel better soon.’

  Twenty

  ‘That was quick,’ says Theo when he opens the door to his flat. He ruffles Dylan’s hair and gives me a questioning smile.

  I don’t smile back. ‘Yeah, we left early. I wasn’t feeling too good.’

  ‘I have to say, you don’t look so great.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he sighs. ‘Why don’t you come in for a cup of coffee? Do you need any painkillers?’

  ‘No, I’ll be all right. I shoul
d probably go home, have a lie down.’ Seeing Harper is the last thing I need right now.

  ‘Harper’s not here,’ he says, as if he’s read my mind. ‘Come in . . . please,’ he puts his hand on my shoulder and I stare at it until he drops it awkwardly. ‘It’s been a long time since we had a good chat.’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Please Mummy,’ Dylan chimes in, tugging my hand. ‘I want to show you my new dinosaur.’

  I weaken, ‘Oh, all right. Just for a minute.’

  Dylan drags me by the hand to his room. He has everything in there: a bed like a space rocket and matching space-themed bedding and curtains, a night light that spins around and casts moving images of the planets on the ceiling. There’s a large flat-screen TV with a PlayStation attached and even the latest iPad. Why does a five-year-old need all this? I think, wearily. And how in hell am I supposed to compete? But I don’t have the energy to get annoyed. I’m still in shock about Luke and just generally worn down by the constant stress I’ve been under.

  I sink on to Dylan’s bed feeling dizzy. My head is throbbing.

  ‘Look. This is Dino,’ says Dylan, fetching the dinosaur from an overflowing toy chest.

  ‘Cool,’ I say weakly. He shows me the dinosaur’s features which, as I suspected, include walking and roaring.

  ‘Ms Hamlyn gave me this,’ he says flitting around from object to object, unable to focus. He hands me a smooth, rounded stone; one side has broken off, exposing a dark spiralling pattern. ‘Do you know what this is, Mummy?’

  I nod, glancing at it absent-mindedly. ‘It’s a fossil. An animal that lived a long time ago.’

  Dylan picks up his PlayStation controller. ‘Can I play Minecraft now?’

  ‘I expect so.’

  I wander into the kitchen where Theo is spooning fresh-smelling coffee into a cafetière and I sit down at the table. He plonks a glass of water and a packet of Nurofen on the table in front of me and I swallow a couple.

  ‘So . . .’ Theo says, turning his dark eyes on me, searching my face.

  ‘So . . .’

  ‘How is everything?’

  ‘Okay,’ I say defensively. ‘How about you? How’s Harper?’

  ‘I saw the news report.’ He ignores my question. ‘What’s going on, Cat?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem like nothing to me. My God, Cat. Those journalists. I couldn’t bear to watch those bastards hounding you.’ He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘My offer still stands, by the way. I can get Duncan to help you, if you want. I’ll pay any legal fees.’

  I look at the tired bags under his eyes, the stubble on his chin and find myself longing for a time when we were everything to each other, when I could tell him anything and he would always have my back.

  ‘There’s no need for that. It will all be sorted very soon,’ I say. ‘I’ve got a watertight alibi.’

  He raises his eyebrows, ‘That’s great. Why didn’t you mention this before?’

  I explain about Luke, meeting him at the Black Bear with Gaby. Theo winces when I reach the part about him staying the night. ‘Spare me the details,’ he mutters under his breath.

  I don’t spare him the details. Why should I? And I enjoy watching him squirm. But then I get on to how Luke lied to the police and he listens wide-eyed when I tell him I just found out that Luke is Dylan’s friend’s father.

  ‘He’s terrified that his wife will find out,’ I continue. ‘So I think I can persuade him it’s in his best interests to tell the police the truth.’

  Theo looks worried. ‘Threaten him, you mean?’

  ‘Well, yes, if you want to put it like that.’

  ‘Do you want me to come with you to talk to him? You don’t know how he’ll react. He could become violent.’

  It’s tempting to accept his offer. I think about how angry Luke seemed on the landing and I have to admit I am a little scared of him. But I can’t keep running to Theo every time I have a problem.

  ‘I can manage,’ I say stiffly.

  Theo shakes his head. ‘What were you thinking of, inviting a stranger into your house, Cat? He could have been dangerous. Look at what happened to Charlotte Holbrooke.’

  I bite back my anger. What gives him the right to advise me on who I can and can’t have in my own house? ‘The police think she was murdered by someone she knew, not a stranger,’ I say coldly. ‘Anyway, I can look after myself. I’ve had to for quite a while now,’ I add pointedly.

  ‘I’m sure you can. I just thought—’

  ‘How’s Harper? Where is she, anyway?’ I interrupt.

  He frowns and looks down at his shoes. ‘She’s gone back to her place. We had an argument just last night.’

  I stare at him in surprise and wonder how I feel about this piece of information. It’s something I’ve been hoping for, praying for, for months but now it’s happened I feel strangely flat.

  ‘So – what? You’ve split up?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He lifts his eyes reluctantly to mine. ‘We’re having a break for a little while to think things through.’

  I wonder who initiated the break. My money’s on Harper. I doubt she was ever seriously interested in Theo. Objectively, he’s punching above his weight with her. Besides which, she must be at least ten years younger than him. My theory is that she picked him up like a new toy and played with him for a while, but now she’s bored and wants to move on to the next new, shiny thing. Well, it serves him right. He’ll get no sympathy from me.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ I say sarcastically.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you’re gutted,’ Theo smiles wryly. Then he gives himself a little shake. ‘I was going to take Dylan to the park to hunt for the Gruffalo before you organised that playdate,’ he says. ‘We could still go. You could come too, if you want.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea, do you?’

  ‘Why not? Just think how happy it would make Dylan for us to spend the day together as a family.’

  We’re not a family any more, I think. Because you destroyed it. You destroyed it the moment you jumped into bed with Harper. But he’s played the Dylan card and I know he’s right. It would make Dylan happy – and if Dylan’s happy, I’m happy.

  So that’s how I find myself in the car, driving Theo and Dylan to the park. On our way, we stop at the house to pick up Delilah and spend the next few hours tramping around the park, sploshing through muddy puddles, making dens and throwing sticks for Delilah. Delilah, delighted to finally be out of the house, dances around crazily, like a puppy, and Dylan careers after her, chuckling like a loon. There’s something soothing and healing about being outdoors and close to nature, and slowly, I feel myself shedding some of the stress and anxiety of the week. For whole minutes at a time, I forget about Charlie and the police investigation and it almost feels like we’re a normal, happy family on a day out.

  It’s getting late by the time we get back and Theo persuades me to stay to dinner and put Dylan to bed.

  ‘Stay. Have a drink,’ Theo says, after Dylan has nodded off to The Gruffalo’s Child. He’s sitting on the armchair, his arm splayed expansively over the back and he’s opened a bottle of Californian red and has already started drinking.

  ‘No thanks. I can’t. I’ve got to drive,’ I say primly.

  ‘You can stay the night here. Why not? You can sleep on the sofa bed.’

  ‘Well, I—’

  He senses me weakening. ‘Go on, Cat. I’d have thought you need a drink or two after the week you’ve had. Besides, I worry about you all alone in that house. For all we know, there’s some psychotic killer on the loose. I’d feel much better if you were safe here with me.

  I know that I should keep my dignity intact and refuse, but I’m tired and scared and the thought of a drink to blunt the edges is very enticing. I don’t want to be alone any
more. I want a respite from the constant fear that’s been dogging me lately.

  ‘Why not?’ I sink wearily into the sofa and accept the glass of wine he pours for me.

  ‘Do you remember we drank this on the first date we ever had?’ he says, draining his glass and pouring himself another.

  ‘How could I forget when you knocked the bottle over on my white skirt?’

  He chuckles. ‘Yeah, I was so nervous. I was trying so hard to impress you.’

  ‘Really? You didn’t seem nervous.’ Theo never seems nervous to me. It is one of the things that attracted me to him – his lazy, unflappable humour, the way nothing seems to faze him. (The first time I met him I interviewed him for the local paper because a huge pet python had escaped from someone’s house and had turned up in his garden. I remember he recounted the whole episode as if it was no big deal, as if these kinds of things happened to him all the time.)

  There’s a short silence. I suppose you could call it companionable. I certainly feel no pressure to talk. I just slump back in the chair, sipping wine, waiting for the numbness to kick in.

  ‘So, this Luke—’ Theo says, at last, topping up my glass.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘Is there anything between you?’

  I snort at the stupidity of the question. ‘Obviously not. He’s married and he’s got me into trouble by lying to the police. Not exactly boyfriend material, I think you’ll agree.’

  He gazes at me with serious brown eyes. ‘I can’t help feeling jealous when I think of you with him,’ he says.

  I swallow a tight ball of anger. ‘Well, you have absolutely no right to be.’

  ‘I know I don’t. But I can’t help the way I feel. Sorry.’

  I don’t answer. I just go to the kitchen and open another bottle of wine.

  Theo sighs as I return to the living room. ‘I suppose, at least it means you’ve got an alibi. Do you think the police will leave you alone after he talks to them?’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so. They took my DNA too.’