THE MISSING WIFE
Sam Carrington

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Sam Carrington 2019

Cover design © www.blacksheep-uk.com 2019

Cover photographs: Face © Marta Bevacqua / Trevillion Images; Candle © Shutterstock

Sam Carrington asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008312954

Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008259839

Version: 2019-06-14

PRAISE FOR SAM CARRINGTON

‘Expertly written … with plentiful twists and unforgettable characters. An insightful and unnerving read.’

Caroline Mitchell, no.1 bestselling author of Silent Victim

‘A kick-ass page turner … I was knocked senseless by the awesome twist.’

John Marrs, no.1 bestselling author of The One

‘Psychologist Connie Summers is a fascinatingly flesh-and-blood guide through this twisty thriller.’

Louise Candlish, Sunday Times bestselling author of Our House

‘Keeps you guessing right to the end.’

Sue Fortin, no.1 bestselling author of Sister Sister

‘This book is not only gripping, but it explores the mother/daughter relationship perfectly, and ends with a gasp-out-loud twist.’

Closer

‘I devoured this story in one sitting!’

Louise Jensen, no.1 bestselling author of The Sister

‘Sam Carrington has done it again. One Little Lie is a twisty, gripping read. I loved it.’

Cass Green, bestselling author of In a Cottage In a Wood

‘I LOVED Bad Sister. Tense, convincing and complex, it kept me guessing (wrongly!)’

Caz Frear, bestselling author of Sweet Little Lies

‘I read One Little Lie in one greedy gulp. A compelling thriller about the dark side of maternal instinct and love.’

Isabel Ashdown, bestselling author of Beautiful Liars

‘A gripping read which moved at a head-spinning pace … I simply couldn’t put this book down until I reached the dramatic and devastating conclusion.’

Claire Allan, USA Today bestselling author of Her Name Was Rose

‘Utterly original and thought provoking … This cries out to be made into a TV series.’

Amanda Robson, Sunday Times bestselling author of Guilt

‘Engrossing psychological suspense about the effect of a murder on the mother of a teenage killer. Sam Carrington had me hooked!’

Emma Curtis, bestselling author of One Little Mistake

Dedication

For Danika – my daughter, my friend, my inspiration.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Sam Carrington

Dedication

Chapter 1: The Burial

Chapter 2: The Signs

Chapter 3: The Text

Chapter 4: The Friend

Chapter 5: The Request

Chapter 6: The Offer

Chapter 7: The Decoy

Chapter 8: The Guest

Chapter 9: The Party

Chapter 10: The Hangover

Chapter 11: The Return

Chapter 12: The Message

Chapter 13: The Shock

Chapter 14: The Disappearance

Chapter 15: The Chat

Chapter 16: The Past

Chapter 17: The Visit

Chapter 18: The Favour

Chapter 19: The Appeal

Chapter 20: The Photos

Chapter 21: The List

Chapter 22: The Dream

Chapter 23: The Baby-Sitter

Chapter 24: The Drunk

Chapter 25: The Apology

Chapter 26: The Brush-Off

Chapter 27: The Lie

Chapter 28: The Secret

Chapter 29: The Accident

Chapter 30: The Search

Chapter 31: The Photo

Chapter 32: The Gift

Chapter 33: The Questions

Chapter 34: The Mistake

Chapter 35: The Update

Chapter 36: The Drone

Chapter 37: The Discovery

Chapter 38: The Aftershock

Chapter 39: The Gathering

Chapter 40: The Footage

Chapter 41: The Theory

Chapter 42: The House

Chapter 43: The Find

Chapter 44: The Darkness

Chapter 45: The Truth

Chapter 46: The Hypnosis

Chapter 47: The Ghost

Chapter 48: The Revelation

Chapter 49: The Trap

Chapter 50: The Forgiveness

Chapter 51: The Plan

Chapter 52: The Last Time

Chapter 53: The Funeral

The Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

By the Same Author

About the Publisher

1
THE BURIAL

I can still feel the mud embedded deep under my fingernails, taste the dirt on my lips. I can still see the eyes: shining like glass, open and staring, deep in their sockets. Dead.

In my mind I watch the earth piling onto the body, slowly blotting out what’s been done. Finally covering those eyes, so they can’t judge anymore.

I’m confident no trace can lead back to me.

Part of me feels regret; a sadness that it came to such a drastic act.

For the moment, my conscience is telling me I’m guilty.

But that can be buried too.

2
THE SIGNS
Tuesday p.m.

The quiet murmurings that stopped as Louisa walked in the room, the closely guarded messages on his iPhone, the way he flitted about when Tiff was around – those were the little things that gave him away. He’d never been able to keep secrets. It’d been something Louisa had found endearing when she’d first met him on Millennium Eve at the party she shouldn’t have been at. But nineteen years later, his inability to hide anything despite believing he could – and that he was good at it – had lost its appeal.

Noah screamed in her left ear. She shifted the small bundle from one shoulder to the other, dragging the damp, sickly-smelling muslin square along with him, and bounced him in a vain attempt to console his colicky cries. He’d been howling for three days straight, Louisa was certain. As certain as she could be in her ‘new mum’ catatonic state, where each day rolled into the next with no real context, no definition or concept of time. Instead of faffing about secretively on his phone, Brian would be better served taking Noah and giving her five minutes to herself. Even going to the loo was a luxury these days.

She wondered if Emily had been like this, but Emily’s early years were a blur now. The teenage issues had long replaced any other bad memories of her infancy. Louisa shouldn’t be dealing with a baby. In just over two weeks she was going to be forty. As far as she’d been concerned, Emily was their one and only. Becoming pregnant was neither planned, nor particularly welcomed.

Ultimately, Noah was a mistake. Perhaps that explained why she was struggling.

Louisa lowered her chin and nestled against Noah’s soft, creamy skin, breathing in the distinct smell of baby, blocking his cries from her tired mind. Even contemplating him as a mistake sent a stabbing pain through her womb. Of course she shouldn’t think that way. He was perfect, beautiful – there were women who’d kill to have what she did.

It was because she was almost forty. The thought of reaching the milestone was an overwhelming one. Her mind flooded with anxiety. She was too old to be doing all this again. Sleepless nights, endless days. Nursery, pre-school, junior school, comprehensive, college.

College.

For a moment, Louisa’s memory displayed a vision – but it was lost as quickly as it appeared. She didn’t like to think about the period of her life when she was seventeen and studying for her A levels. There were too many gaps during her second year, and mostly her mind refused to fill them – apart from the odd occasion when an image burst into her head. Random images; unrecognisable faces. Ones she knew she didn’t want to, or need to, grasp hold of. There was little point in trying to piece together a past that wanted to be forgotten.

Noah’s screams finally penetrated her thoughts again – her ability to block them only temporary. All the things she was going to have to experience again. All those ‘stages’ she’d assumed were long gone. But here she was beginning the journey all over again, and with such a big age gap. It petrified her.

Not only that, but she had the other end of the scale to deal with at the same time. Teenage angst, moodiness, rudeness, the pushing of boundaries. It was becoming too much. Even Brian: safe, dependable Brian, who’d been the doting dad when Emily was a baby, had shown less of an interest in Noah. He often came home from his shifts at the prison exhausted and irritable. Sometimes it was as though she had three children to look after, but no one to look after her.

Louisa strode up to him, thrusting Noah out towards his chest.

‘Hang on, Lou. Can’t you see I’m busy?’ he said as he whipped the phone screen away from her so she couldn’t see the display, his body turning away from their son.

‘Funnily enough, so am I. And I’ve had this constant screaming pounding my ears for eight hours. Give me a bloody break and take him! I assume you do want to eat tonight?’

‘Mum!’ Emily’s voice, loud to compete with her baby brother, burst into the lounge. ‘What’s for tea?’

Louisa closed her eyes, taking a moment before she offered an answer. Too soon and her response would come across brusque, unreasonable. Aggressiveness was not a quality she wished to show to her daughter.

‘When I get five minutes to look in the fridge, I’ll be able to tell you.’

‘Oh,’ Brian piped up, his phone finally in his pocket. ‘You don’t even know what we’re having?’

‘No, love. Why don’t you rustle something up? Or take Noah. Like I’ve been trying to get you to do.’ A pain shot through her jaw as she clenched it forcefully. She gave a tight smile, then held Noah out at arm’s length for a second attempt.

‘No problem,’ he said, taking the noisy creature from her outstretched arms as though he was contaminated. He squinted his eyes as the noise came in close contact with his ears.

See how he likes it.

Louisa turned away from them and quickly slipped into the kitchen to make the most of her reprieve, closing the door to block out as much of the noise as possible. She hunched over the granite worktop, hanging her head and closing her eyes tight. God, her head ached. It was like having a hangover twenty-four hours a day, every day. Louisa reluctantly opened her eyes again. She stared at her lank, brown hair, which had splayed on the dark granite – split ends upon split ends, like branches on a tree, reminding her she hadn’t been to the hairdresser for almost a year. Straightening, Louisa contemplated what she could rustle an evening meal out of. It would have to be something with chips. Until Brian took her shopping, there was very little in the fridge, and mainly bags of breast milk in the freezer.

That reminded her.

She pressed a hand to each breast. When had Noah last fed? Both breasts felt relatively soft, yet she couldn’t remember feeding him; that could account for his screaming. But if it had been too long ago, her breasts would’ve become engorged and she’d be desperate to empty them. She tried to think back over the day: she usually fed Noah while sitting in the armchair in the corner of the lounge – what was once her favourite reading chair, before it became the feeding chair – and she always put the TV on while he suckled because it helped take her mind off the stinging sensation of her cracked nipples. What had she been watching the last time she fed him?

Worryingly, nothing came to her. The night-time feeds were always hazy, but not usually the daytime ones. The pounding pain in her head worsened the more she forced herself to remember, the pressure threatening to rupture her brain. Yanking open the bottom drawer of the kitchen cupboard unit, Louisa reached in, pulling forward the tea towels to reveal the rectangular packet she stored at the back. She turned it over and over in her hands before popping two pills from the foil pack. She stared at the capsules as the fear gripped her insides. A fear she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Was it happening again?

3
THE TEXT
Wednesday a.m.

‘What are you doing?’ Brian asked, his words slurred from tiredness. He threw the duvet off and sat on the edge of the bed, his head resting in his hands. The room was dark bar the illumination of the digital alarm clock’s blue glow.

‘Getting dressed.’ Louisa zipped her jeans and, using her phone light to see, pulled at the soft-pink jumper under the mountain of discarded clothes on the tub chair in the corner of their bedroom, sending the rest tumbling.

‘But it’s five past five, Louisa?’

‘Oh, is it? It feels later. I’ve been up half the night with Noah.’ She tutted as she absently piled the clothes back up on the chair. She banged her hip against the dressing table as she stumbled towards the door. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit on the clumsy side this morning, didn’t mean to disturb you. You’ve got another hour yet, so go back to sleep.’

‘You’re clumsy every morning lately,’ Brian mumbled as he sank back into the pillow.

Despite the strong urge to tell him he would be too if he’d been the one up every night for the last three months, Louisa said nothing and just closed the door quietly behind her.

Noah was sleeping now. Louisa crept past his nursery, barely daring to breathe in case she woke him. Emily’s room, with a poster of P!NK adorning the door, was silent too. She seemed to sleep through Noah’s cries. Just as well – she was moody enough without lack of sleep impacting on her. Her schoolwork was suffering. It had been prior to Noah’s arrival but Louisa didn’t want her daughter, who was as bright as a button, to go downhill further because an unexpected baby had disrupted the equilibrium. Louisa trod carefully on each stair, avoiding the edge of the squeaky middle one.

In the kitchen, she took her handbag from where it hung on the inside of the larder door and retrieved the packet of Marlboro and a disposable lighter. Standing at the open back door, Louisa dragged on the cigarette. Her head swam for a moment, a light airiness consuming it. After a few more puffs, she relaxed.

She had limited opportunities to smoke without being noticed. Early mornings were the best. As far as Brian was concerned, she gave up long ago. She had given up for four years. But yesterday triggered something. The compulsion to start again overtook her and she was relieved to find her secret packet was still in its original hiding place in the bottom drawer of her mother’s old sideboard in the garage. When Brian was otherwise engaged on his mobile, she’d got them and popped them in her handbag. It wasn’t as if Brian would ever go looking in that. He wasn’t nosy, didn’t check up on her; he’d never think to search through any of her things. He wasn’t like that.

Louisa reached around to the outside and scraped the cigarette along the wall to extinguish it; then she hid the butt in one of Emily’s discarded Coke cans. That girl was drinking far too much fizzy rubbish. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink, spread a liberal spray of Oust around and then closed and locked the back door.

Brian’s mobile was charging on the worktop near the bread bin. He never took it to bed, always fearing he’d get a late-night call from his sister Alison, who lived in Yorkshire with his mother, taking care of her following the death of Brian’s dad. She’d phoned several times in the middle of the night, worrying about their mother’s behaviour and her health. It’s not that Brian didn’t care – he did. He was a good son on the whole. But his sister was needy and felt it was her responsibility to tell Brian every little detail of what was going on up there, while he ‘lived life’ at the opposite end of the country. She’d been bitter ever since Brian chose to move to Devon, where Louisa had always lived. And when they’d married, her bitterness intensified. For some reason, Brian felt Alison had always wanted to punish him for that choice.

Louisa took the phone, pressing the button to bring up the home screen. It was password-protected, but she could see the first part of each of the last few notifications and texts. Her breath caught. Tiff’s message was the last one. She could only see the first line.

All good for meeting Friday still? I assume you’ve managed to keep it from

Louisa’s face grew hot. She tapped the screen even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to access the full message. She placed it back on the worktop in the same position she’d found it in. Her heart beat wildly; she could feel pressure in her chest. Friday was when he was supposedly going out with the lads; Louisa distinctly remembered him arranging it. To her knowledge, Brian had never lied to her.

She wondered why he would start now.

4
THE FRIEND
Wednesday a.m.

Noah enjoyed being pushed in his pram, as long as Louisa kept it moving. If she could spend every hour of each day treading the pavements of Little Penchurch, he’d be a quiet baby. Tiff only lived a few minutes from her house, so rather than take the direct route, she went the long way around, circumnavigating the village in the hope Noah may stay asleep once she stopped at her destination. It was unlikely, but nevertheless she had to try something – and she was determined that nothing would stop her seeing Tiff this morning.

Tiff’s house was stunning, like her. It was detached – which again, some would say was one of her traits – standing in its own grounds set back from the road. Inside it was modern, spotless – like a show home. No husband or children to mess it up. Louisa opened the heavy wooden gate, manoeuvred Noah’s pram through and closed it behind her before walking down the side of the house to the back entrance. It was easier to get the pram through the patio doors at the rear. She hadn’t called ahead, so she hoped Tiff hadn’t left yet – she couldn’t remember if it was her yoga day.

‘Well, this a lovely surprise,’ Tiff said as she slid the patio doors fully open. ‘A bit early for you.’ She smiled, her wide grin revealing perfectly whitened, straight teeth.

‘Yeah, hope you don’t mind. I just had to get out of the house for a bit, and walking seems to be the only thing that keeps Noah quiet.’

Tiff crouched down to peek inside the pram. ‘Aw, he’s getting bigger. It’s all that good milk he’s getting.’

‘Not sure he is getting enough milk, actually.’ Now Louisa was inside her best friend’s house, she let her guard down. Without even realising she felt sad, tears began to trickle down her face.

‘Oh, lovely. Come here.’ Tiff enveloped Louisa in a tight hug, rocking her gently. This only added to Louisa’s unexpected outpouring of tears and suddenly she was sobbing.

‘I don’t know what’s happening to me.’ Her voice was muffled in Tiff’s white T-shirt.

‘Baby blues, love. They’ll pass. Come on, let’s get you a coffee.’

Louisa left Noah, who was thankfully still asleep despite the movement of the pram ceasing, and followed Tiff into her huge kitchen, wiping her tears with her jumper sleeve as she walked.

‘Here.’ Tiff handed Louisa a small cube of coloured tissues. Louisa took a few sheets and swiped them across her nose, annoyed with herself for crying the second she’d walked in. She watched through tingling eyes as her friend of eight years filled the see-through kettle with bottled water – she didn’t trust tap water, convinced she’d get cancer from drinking it – and stared at the blue light radiating through the liquid.

‘So—’ Tiff turned to look at her ‘—I take it you’re not sleeping, looking at those bags.’

Louisa couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Hah! Thanks, I feel better already!’

‘Sorry. I’d be a total mess if I were you. If I don’t get at least eight hours a night I’m a total bitch and I’d look like something from a horror movie.’

‘I doubt that, Tiff.’ She looked down at the scrunched ball of soggy tissue in her hand.

‘It’s a good job it doesn’t happen often, I can tell you.’

The kettle clicked off, and Tiff busied herself making the two coffees. Louisa glanced around the kitchen. Her whole downstairs would fit in this space. Her thoughts turned to the text message, and how she could bring it up without making herself sound distrustful of her friend. Her only friend. Well, the only one that counted, anyway – she knew lots of people: colleagues from the accountancy firm she worked for, other mums of kids Emily’s age, and now some mums from her antenatal and baby groups. But she didn’t socialise with them. She wasn’t like Tiff, who had dozens of close friends and revelled in moving in different social circles. That would only stress Louisa. Keeping a single friend was difficult enough for her, always had been.

‘Any goss?’ Louisa asked. It was the best way of getting Tiff chatting, so that she could find an opportunity to slip in her question.

‘Ooh, well, yes, actually!’ Tiff planted the mugs on two glass coasters and flounced away, disappearing through the double doors that led to the lounge. She returned, laptop in her hands. ‘Did you see this?’ Tiff twisted the screen to face Louisa. Sarah Weaver’s Facebook profile was displayed.

‘Oh, what’s going on with her?’ Louisa squinted at the page as Tiff reached around the laptop and scrolled down to Sarah’s latest status update.

‘Life is too short to be with people who hold you back. Embrace change. Don’t be afraid to turn the page of your own story or you’ll never reach the next chapter.’

‘Okay, it’s a bit deep – but I don’t understand, what’s wrong with it? It’s just some motivational quote.’

‘Haven’t you been keeping up? Don’t you realise what this means?’

Louisa sighed. Keeping up with Facebook wasn’t something that had occurred to her during the last three months of sleep-deprived baby tasks. She hadn’t been that great with social media prior to Noah’s birth, but the most she used the internet for at the moment was searching for ‘how to prevent colic’ or ‘tricks to make him sleep like a baby’. As well as the chat rooms on Mumsnet – they were her current lifeline. Not the goings-on with friends-who-weren’t-even-real-friends on bloody Facebook. If it wasn’t for Tiff having set up her Facebook profile in the first place, she’d never have bothered with it. Fake lives and fake friends were not her thing.

‘It’s not something I’ve been compelled to do, no. I’ve been a little preoccupied …’

‘Well, yes, I guess. You are useless at posting anyway, and you never respond to my posts, even if I tag you.’

‘Sorry.’ It was quicker and easier to apologise rather than get into a debate about the negative aspects of splashing your life online.

‘Not to worry. Anyway, I digress. Back to Sarah. After being “found out” last month, she’s been keeping a low profile. But then, this. It has to mean she’s still seeing Mark, doesn’t it? We’re all going to the school fundraiser on Wednesday evening, so no doubt I will find out more then.’ Tiff looked pleased with herself. She and Sarah had history and it was no secret they’d clashed over who was better at organising village events – whether it was for the primary school, the cottage garden society show or the church fund, Tiff liked doing it all. Without much help. And certainly not from Sarah Weaver, who she viewed as a nuisance and someone who put barriers up where there shouldn’t be any (even if she was right). Tiff liked to think of herself as THE fundraising organiser of the village – the best and only ‘go-to’ person there was. Anything that put Sarah, her main competition to this title, in a poor light was a good outcome as far as she was concerned. So, if there were rumours, Tiff wasn’t likely to do anything other than fan the flames.

Despite Tiff not having any children, let alone at the school, she’d managed to get in with the head teacher by volunteering to read with some of the younger pupils. Louisa suspected that Tiff’s stated motive for doing it – so she could organise events – was only part of the reason. From some of the conversations they’d had over the years, Louisa deduced that Tiff regretted her decision not to have a family and now believed this was her way of being a part of something she felt she was missing out on. The fact she could be so pushy, and even hoity about it, always came as a surprise to Louisa.

She often wondered how they’d become such good friends. They’d met at a mutual friend’s wedding eight years ago and somehow just clicked. As unlikely a friendship as it was, and a total surprise to Brian, they’d remained close ever since. Maybe it was because Louisa posed no threat to Tiff’s aspirations: Louisa was never going to want to be an organiser of anything because she didn’t even like events or parties. If she was coerced into going to one, she’d be the person keeping quiet in the corner of the room, drinking an orange juice and looking lost. Tiff was welcome to the attention.

Louisa was suddenly aware she was meant to be offering an answer – responding to Tiff’s assumptions about Sarah’s extramarital affair in the way her friend wanted her to. As this finally sank in, Louisa realised it gave her an opportunity to bring up the real reason she’d visited today.

‘Let me get this right,’ Louisa said. ‘You think Sarah has been having an affair with Mark – her best friend’s husband?’

‘Er … yes! I know you’ve been off the scene for a bit, but how come you’ve missed all of that? It’s not like we live in a big village – it’s tiny, and everyone knows everyone. I don’t know, Louisa – sometimes you disappoint me.’ She shook her head. ‘And anyway, I thought we talked about this last time we had coffee?’

‘I don’t remember …’

‘Baby brain,’ Tiff mocked. ‘Anyway, how evil is that?’

This was Louisa’s chance to mention the text. But with Tiff’s obvious distaste for what Sarah had done, why then would she be doing the same to Louisa? Although, it was always easier to judge someone else’s actions rather than your own. And she may only be reacting to this because it was Sarah, not because she actually felt it was evil.

Louisa took a deep breath. ‘Yeah, that’s awful. Who would cheat with their best friend’s husband?’ She stared into Tiff’s deep-blue eyes, expecting to see a hint of guilt.

‘A bitch, Louisa. A total bitch, that’s who,’ Tiff said vehemently.

‘You’d never do that to me, would you?’

The burst of laughter made Louisa jump. For a moment she was puzzled – she hadn’t realised she’d said the words out loud, only thought them.

‘What? God, of course not. And, you know, it’s not as if Brian is my type.’ She threw her head back and carried on laughing.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Louisa put her mug down hard on the coaster. She’d managed to go from mistrust to indignation in a beat.

‘You’re serious,’ Tiff said. The laughter stopped, her smile disappearing. ‘I’m confused, Lou. What’s up with you?’

‘I’m sorry, I’m just hormonal. It’s nothing.’

‘No, go on. It’s obviously something or you wouldn’t be reacting in this way.’

‘I feel bad now. I – I shouldn’t have looked …’

‘Looked at what?’ A mask of concern darkened Tiff’s face. Louisa regretted saying anything, but now she’d come this far she may as well continue.

‘A text. On Brian’s phone. He’s been weird lately, acting suspiciously, on the bloody mobile all the time. All hush-hush stuff. I thought he must be having an affair …’ Louisa looked up at Tiff, her face stony. ‘Maybe it’s with Sarah.’ Louisa gave a nervous laugh. But it was too late to make jokes – Tiff knew what she was getting at.

‘No. Not Sarah. But not me either. Not anyone, Lou. He only loves you.’ Her voice was cool.

Louisa swallowed hard. ‘Why are you arranging to meet then? Friday, you said in the text.’

Tiff got up and walked around the kitchen island to Louisa.

‘Look, Lou,’ Tiff said, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘Even if Brian was my type, I’d never cross that line. I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a husband-snatcher. And I would never go after my best friend’s husband. I’m going to put this down to your sleep-deprived state – and your loopy hormones, like you said – and try not to be deeply hurt that you’d even think such a thing. Now, how about another coffee?’ Her hand slipped from Louisa’s shoulder as she straightened and moved away.

Louisa frowned. Tiff hadn’t denied the text, although she’d put up a convincing argument about how she wouldn’t have an affair with Brian. Because of her reaction Louisa didn’t feel she could carry on the conversation or ask anything more about Friday – not without alienating her further.

There was something more, though, she could sense it.

Louisa realised she only half-believed her best friend. And that didn’t sit well at all.

5
THE REQUEST
Thursday p.m.

Louisa awoke with her head and torso slumped over her lap. She straightened, taking a deep breath as she looked round the room. She was in Noah’s nursery, in the chair.

Her heart gave a jolt. She’d been feeding Noah.

She looked down. He was quiet. Still. Cradled in her arms. She’d fallen asleep over him.

Louisa shook him gently.

Nothing.

She jumped up, holding Noah upright.

A sharp cry.

For a moment she was relieved. But the cry was her own.

‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ Brian crashed through the door, hair ruffled, his face ashen.

‘No – ah …’ Louisa gasped for air, holding the limp baby up towards her husband.

‘What? What about him. He’s quiet, Lou, leave him to sleep.’ Brian’s brow was furrowed.

‘I – I was feeding him, I fell asleep – he’s – he’s not breathing, Brian!’

Brian hit the light switch. A soft yellow illumination filled the small room.

‘Louisa.’ He reached out and took her arms. ‘Louisa, he’s just asleep—’

‘No. I squashed him, look …’ Louisa was afraid to gaze down again, fearful of seeing the damage she’d done. But suddenly her arms felt light.

She looked down.

Noah wasn’t in them.

‘You must’ve been asleep and dreamt it, Lou. He’s fine. He’s in his cot, and he’s breathing. I promise.’ Brian pulled Louisa gently towards the cot and placed her shaking hand on Noah’s chest. ‘See?’

Louisa’s breathing slowed as she felt the steady rise and fall.

Tears of relief slipped down her cheeks. It hadn’t felt like a dream. She’d been certain he was in her arms.

‘Come to bed.’ Brian’s voice – soft, coaxing – relaxed her.

Louisa could only nod as Brian took her hand and gently guided her to their room. She climbed into bed. But she didn’t fall asleep again. A coil of fear remained – an ache, a pain she couldn’t rid herself of – the question of whether she’d hallucinated purely because of sleep deprivation lay heavy in her exhausted mind.

She waited for Brian’s deep guttural snoring to start, then she crept out of bed.

Her online search yielded a long list of hits. Louisa’s anxiety at what had happened – her belief she’d suffocated Noah when he wasn’t even in her arms despite her eyes telling her otherwise – lessened slightly. It seemed hallucinations were one of the most common effects of lack of sleep. One article mentioned that the effects of sleep deprivation could mimic mental illness.

Louisa began to panic that having Noah, and the lack of sleep that came with him, might have triggered her old problem. Or was the article right – was she merely experiencing the effects of not sleeping? She didn’t want to think about it. Louisa closed Google and was about to log into Mumsnet, but then decided Facebook might take her mind off things more. Thinking about what Tiff had said about Sarah, and the fact Louisa had never responded to being tagged, she thought now was as good a time as any to catch up. She may even find evidence of something going on between Tiff and Brian. They were both aware she didn’t really use Facebook and therefore would be unlikely to spot anything untoward – they may have taken advantage of that.

After a few failed attempts at logging in, Louisa finally recalled her ‘easy-to-remember’ password that Tiff had set for her and the homepage popped up. She immediately searched Tiff’s and Brian’s profiles. There were a few ‘likes’ – and Brian had commented on Tiff’s last profile picture she uploaded – simply saying ‘lovely’ – but surely that was nothing to worry about. She scrolled through the last two weeks of status updates, new photos and every comment on Tiff’s account, checking to see if Brian had said anything inappropriate. Then she did the same on Brian’s. Even though she was analysing everything as if under a microscope, she couldn’t find anything that looked suspicious in terms of them having an affair.

She then clicked on to Sarah’s profile. At first glance, her life looked perfect. Every photo Sarah posted showed smiling faces; happy families – on outings, all sitting around the table having a family meal, the kids all behaving. The picture of perfection – then she did the dirty? Facebook is a lie, Louisa concluded. In fact, she would go as far as saying it was evil. The fakeness appalled her. It was why she kept off it, although, deep down she knew that wasn’t the only reason.

As she moved the cursor to close it down, vowing to herself never to go back on the site, Louisa’s attention was caught by the number beside the miniature world icon on the top right of her page. Thirty notifications.

Ignore them.

It’s not like she had tons of friends – real or otherwise – so despite a long absence she hadn’t expected to see so many notifications.

Louisa relinquished and clicked on them.

Her breath ceased for a few seconds. Every one of them was from a single source, and it was not Tiff, as she’d expected. And all but one of them was the same.

Oliver Dunmore invited you to join the group Exeter College Leavers 1997

The newest notification was the only one that was different.

You joined the group Exeter College Leavers 1997

How had she joined? She hadn’t accepted the invitation.

Oliver was not a person she wished to remember, and neither was her time at Exeter College. Louisa’s head swam.

She slammed the laptop lid closed.

6
THE OFFER
Friday a.m.

‘You look dreadful. You can’t go on with this little sleep, Lou.’ Brian’s opening line as he walked into the kitchen holding Noah was an unnecessary statement.

‘I know that. I’m really feeling it. Last night scared me.’

‘Me too. You were so utterly convinced you’d killed him.’ Brian passed Noah to her, then gave her shoulders a squeeze before sitting down at the table opposite her. ‘Your eyes … they were manic, Lou. You didn’t look like you.’

‘I’m so sorry for freaking you out.’ Louisa dropped her gaze, not wanting Brian to see the fear in her eyes. She smiled at Noah’s scrunched-up face as he yawned.

‘I’m having Noah tonight. There’s enough milk in the freezer and he’ll be okay with me bottle-feeding him for one night. I’m going to take you to Court Farm this afternoon. I’ve booked you a room there – you need to get some sleep.’

‘What? No, Brian. It’s a lovely thought but I can’t leave Noah. I won’t sleep if I’m away from him, I’ll just worry all the time.’

‘He’ll be absolutely fine with me. Don’t you trust me?’

Four words. Ones that had huge weight attached to them. Louisa couldn’t even answer immediately.

‘I know I’ve not been pulling my weight.’ Brian reached across, running his fingertips gently across Louisa’s cheek. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been selfish. But let me do this now. For you.’ He looked at her with pleading eyes. ‘Please?’

The text to Tiff was fresh in her mind. He wanted her out of the way so he could meet up with her.

‘I don’t feel confident. Not with how I’ve been feeling …’

‘Tiff will be with you.’

‘What?’

‘Tiff is going to stay too. Separate room, don’t worry – you need solid sleep, not to be chatting all night.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Louisa frowned. This was an unexpected turn.

‘I could see how badly this lack of sleep was affecting you. I’ve been talking to Tiff, asking her advice really, and together we thought this would at least give you a bit of a break …’

Louisa sank back in the chair. Had their messaging and the hushed conversations all been about arranging one night away from her baby? Louisa’s face flushed. Shit. She’d practically accused Tiff of having an affair with her husband. As well as hallucinations, she could now tick paranoia off the sleep deprivation checklist.

‘But it’s a pub, Brian. I won’t sleep with all the noise.’

‘The rooms are in a converted barn adjacent to the pub so it should be fine. Even if you don’t get to sleep until midnight, you could still get seven, eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. It’ll be far better than what you’ve been getting.’

Louisa contemplated it. It wasn’t as if her parents could take Noah, like they used to Emily. They were too old now: her mother too fragile, her dad clueless – plus, she hadn’t even spoken to them for weeks, their relationship remaining strained. Even when they’d looked after Emily, Louisa had always felt it’d been something they’d done out of duty rather than love. Each time her mum agreed to take Emily it was a decision edged with bitterness.

Louisa’s rocky relationship with them, her mother in particular, was a hangover from her teenage years – she’d often been told how she’d been challenging, that her erratic behaviour when she was at college had caused no end of worry. Louisa had spent a long time wishing she could’ve gone away to a college further afield, rather than to the closest one. But commuting daily to Exeter was simpler and it wasn’t as though she had much choice anyway. It wasn’t like going off to uni, where it was expected you live away from home. She was only doing A levels and none of her friends had their own digs; all of them lived at home too, so she couldn’t even crash at anyone else’s. Things might have been very different if that had been a possibility.

Considering her lack of options, Brian’s offer may well be her only opportunity to have some time out. One night couldn’t hurt. And she really needed sleep if the last few days, and particularly last night, were anything to go by.

‘Thank you.’ She gave a grateful smile.

‘Good. That’s settled then.’ Brian got up and moved to the worktop where his mobile was. He unplugged it from its charger and was immediately immersed in texting. Tiff, she presumed.

‘We got any Coco Pops?’ Emily breezed into the kitchen. No ‘good morning’, no eye contact.

‘Unless you’ve eaten them all, then yes – in the larder.’

Emily huffed and sloped over to the larder, pulling the yellow box from the top shelf. Louisa watched as her handbag banged back against the door as Emily went to close it. She must remember to take the bag with her secret stash of cigarettes inside to Court Farm later. She’d also take her tablets from the drawer. While one night away from Noah might be beneficial, she had a feeling she’d need more help than that to sleep well.

7
THE DECOY
Friday p.m.

Tiff’s car – a volcano-red Audi A8, so she’d informed Louisa when she’d bought it brand new – drew up outside at smack on five. Louisa watched from the window as Tiff got out, perfectly dressed as usual, her Ray-Ban sunglasses on, despite the March weather being quite dull. Louisa looked down at her own ensemble: the same jeans she’d been wearing all week and a plain black baggy T-shirt. She should’ve made more effort, but then again, it was meant to be a relaxing night away so it didn’t really matter what she wore.

Brian had come home from work early and taken Noah out for a walk – Emily begrudgingly went with them. Louisa had said her goodbyes. In her head, she repeated, It’s only one night. She knew it could only do her good.

She’d made sure her cigarettes and tablets were in her bag – she’d already taken two tablets that morning as a precaution, knowing her anxiety levels would be increasing. Checking the freezer, she noted there was a good stack of frozen milk, even more than she’d thought. How had she pumped off that much? As far as she could tell, her milk production had slowed to the degree she was considering supplementing Noah with formula. At least she didn’t have to worry about him going hungry. The bottles were freshly sterilised. All was taken care of. She popped two more tablets out of the aluminium pack, swallowed them without water, and threw the packet back into her handbag as she thrust it over her shoulder and walked towards the front door.

‘Hi, hun! You not ready yet?’ Tiff said as she embraced Louisa, then stood back to take in her appearance.

‘Er … yes. I didn’t see the point in dressing up,’ Louisa said.

‘No, no I guess not. Have you packed anything else?’ Tiff’s frown said it all.

‘I’ve got another T-shirt.’ Louisa held up the small overnight bag she’d found in the back of the wardrobe and that she’d stuffed with minimal supplies.

‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and grab something nice for later – a dress or something.’

‘For later? I was planning on sleeping later, Tiff.’

‘Yes, yes. Of course. I thought I’d treat you to a nice dinner though, before you bed down for the night. You’re looking pasty lately, like you’re in need of a good meal. And you know, a drink or two, which I’m sure will help you settle quicker.’ She smiled.

Louisa knew it was futile to argue so she bounded up the stairs, pulled her old faithful off the hanger – a flower-print jersey dress – and shoved it inside her bag. She grabbed her make-up bag too. Pasty. She would make a small effort, just to get Tiff off her back.

‘Right, let’s go!’ Tiff was out of the door before Louisa could say anything.

The room was small but adequate. Louisa had often been to the restaurant and bar at Court Farm but living so close meant there’d never been a need to stay. It felt weird to be sleeping away from home when it was only two miles away. She really hoped she felt better after tonight; Brian would be so disappointed if his plan didn’t work, but Louisa knew that she’d need far more than one night for a difference to be made.

A knock interrupted her thoughts. Louisa opened the door to Tiff.

‘My plan is that you shower now, dress up, slap on some war paint and we hit the bar in an hour. Sound good?’

‘Well, I guess.’ Anxiety coursed through her body like a rapidly spreading virus. It seemed a lot to do in an hour, and the double bed with its fluffy pillows and crisp, clean bed linen looked really inviting.

‘I’ll go and get some wine. It’ll be like old times, getting ready to go out.’ Tiff’s enthusiasm made Louisa smile in spite of her misgivings. When they’d first been friends, Tiff regularly dragged Louisa out on a Friday night – not clubbing, those times were long gone – but they’d go into Newton, traipse from one pub to another, Tiff drinking more than was sensible, and they’d have a good laugh. It was the time getting ready at Tiff’s house that used to make Louisa’s night. She always went to Tiff’s because there, Louisa had no one making any demands on her: she could avoid Emily’s bedtime and leave the calming-down period and story-telling to Brian, so it was more fun. She’d have been fine with just that, not even bothering to go out. Louisa wasn’t much of a drinker, not since her college days. She’d allow Tiff to get her a drink now, though. One wouldn’t hurt, and it wasn’t as though she had to feed Noah.

‘Okay. I’d better jump in the shower then.’

‘Excellent,’ Tiff said as she did a dramatic twirl and left the room. Louisa took out the dress she’d squashed into her bag, brushing it down and hoping the creases wouldn’t be too visible once it was on her. This could be just what she needed – a shower in complete peace, a few hours of being ‘normal’, a nice meal, a good natter and an entire night of undisturbed sleep. Just in case though, she would take a couple more of the pills. She didn’t want to waste the opportunity of getting rest by lying awake all night worrying. Her mind always came alive the second her head hit the pillow, so it was worth having a back-up. She swallowed the capsules with water from the tap and went into the bathroom.

Tiff had convinced Louisa to have two glasses of wine while they were getting ready, and her head now felt woozy. She should’ve waited to eat before having the second. They made their way out of the accommodation building, which, just as Brian had told her, was adjacent to the pub. Tiff had her head down, busy texting. Louisa prickled, irritated that Tiff couldn’t stay off her mobile for even a few hours. Louisa shook her head. She hoped tonight wasn’t a mistake. Shuffling along behind Tiff, who was now quite forcibly pushing through some people standing at the bar, Louisa kept her head lowered. An uncomfortable sensation rippled through her; she didn’t want to make eye contact with anyone, suddenly feeling exposed – everyone staring at her.

‘We’ve got a table in the upstairs room,’ Tiff said, finally turning to face Louisa and ushering her up the stairs first. Louisa was glad to be escaping the busy, noisy bar area to the more subdued upstairs. She stumbled on the steps, grabbing the rail to regain her balance. Two wines mixed with the tablets was clearly not the best of ideas.

Nearing the top of the stairs, Louisa’s chest tightened. Tied to the bannister, floating ominously, were a couple of Happy 40th Birthday balloons. Her feet refused to move forward, but Tiff nudged her on.

‘Go on, it’s all right,’ she coaxed.

The room, which a moment ago was quiet, erupted into a frenzied noise of singing.

Oh, God no.

Her eyes darted around, her brain attempting to put it all together. What the hell? Her birthday wasn’t for another two weeks so this must be for someone else. As the out-of-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ continued, Louisa noticed that balloons displaying the big 4-0 adorned every table. The room was filled with people she didn’t recognise, who all appeared to be clapping and cheering for her. The dizziness returned, threatening to cause her legs to give. Her eyes settled on Brian, who was smiling, standing with Noah in his arms at the front of the gathering. Noah wasn’t crying. Even Emily, standing at Brian’s side, was smiling.

‘Surprised? I wanted to make sure you did something special for your fortieth.’ Brian grinned. Louisa’s mouth opened, but no words would form. She couldn’t fathom why he would have thought this was a good idea in her current state. She had a strong urge to turn around and run back down the stairs, but more people came up behind her, blocking her route. Fleeing didn’t appear to be an option.

This was the worst thing that could’ve happened. What about her relaxing night, the one where she was meant to sleep? A hot ball of irritation burned in the pit of her stomach. This was not a happy surprise but now that she’d been forced into the situation, and quite clearly couldn’t get out of it, Louisa lifted her chin, put her shoulders back and made her way properly into the guest-filled room. After a few hellos and polite thank you for coming statements, Louisa sat at the table nearest the window. If she didn’t sit, she’d collapse. The throng of voices blurred into the background as Louisa stared outside. More people were coming. Surely not for her? How many people did Brian invite? She didn’t even know this many people.

She felt a hand on her knee.

‘I know I tricked you into this, but I really thought … well, we really thought it would do you good. I’m still taking Noah home with Emily after the meal.’ He bounced Noah gently in one arm, but it appeared as though there was no need – the baby was content and settled. ‘So you’ll still have time to yourself.’ His eyes sought hers for approval. She attempted a smile, hoping it looked grateful rather than stabby, which was how she was really feeling.

‘How did you arrange this?’

‘With Tiff’s help, of course. The night away with Tiff was the perfect decoy. It got you here, ready for the surprise to be sprung on you.’ He sounded so chuffed with himself – and granted, he’d actually done a good job keeping it from her. It seemed he was better at keeping secrets than she’d given him credit for. Part of her was relieved that the party was the reason for his constant texting, his sneaky behaviour. Another part, though, couldn’t shake the foreboding sensation deep in her gut.

‘Tiff helped? What’s she done – invited all her friends?’ Louisa gave a quick sweeping glance of the room trying to pinpoint some people she actually knew.

‘No, silly.’ He gave her a hug, kissing the top of her head. Thank God Tiff had convinced her to shower and wash her hair. ‘She went through your friends list.’

‘My what?’ Louisa’s jaw slackened.

‘Your Facebook friends – she said she knew your password as she’d set your profile up and you’d never changed it. Sorry – I thought it would be okay if she did it. She even managed to track down your old college buddies thanks to an invite you’d had to join the alumni. Took her ages – she’s pretty amazing at all this organising stuff, isn’t she?’ He beamed.

The blood in Louisa’s veins cooled, an icy sensation creeping underneath her skin.

She shook her head, unable to formulate the right words. She wanted to scream but, instead, a numbness took over.

‘It wasn’t easy – you’ve never talked about any of them despite me digging over the years – but we thought it would be the ideal time to do some catching up. A reunion of sorts. What better time than this milestone?’

Her breathing shallowed; the room closed in on her. There would never have been a good time for that.

She had to escape this room full of strangers. Because that’s what they were, in effect. None of them really knew her. She silently prayed that none of those on the Exeter College list would turn up. Surely after twenty-two years none of them would even remember who she was? She’d left after her A levels while the majority of her friends had gone on to university, scattering far and wide across the country. Louisa hadn’t kept in contact with anyone. They wouldn’t bother to come to her fortieth when they’d not set eyes on her for all that time. The thought of it even being a possibility, though, set her nerves on edge. Grabbing her handbag, and without looking at Brian, she got up.

As Louisa pushed through the people, she heard multiple ‘happy birthdays’ and her name being spoken, arms reaching out and hands touching her. Muttering her thanks, she quickly moved on, her eyes focused on the stairs. As she reached them she bumped into someone coming the other way.

‘Long time, no see,’ the smooth, deep voice said. A voice that caused tiny electric shocks to spread inside her body. Her prayer hadn’t been answered.

Louisa was paralysed to the spot.

She hadn’t seen him since 1997, but his face was instantly familiar.

Oliver.

8
THE GUEST
Friday p.m.

After what felt like five minutes of silently staring, Louisa’s brain kicked in, her feet finally moving. Without being able to speak, she pushed past Oliver and the unknown woman by his side and, with as much composure as she could muster, descended the stairs. Tiff’s blonde hair was visible above the group of punters congregating at the bar, and as Louisa struggled to get to the exit, she heard Tiff shout to her.

‘Where are you off to?’

Louisa shoved through more people, anger propelling her towards Tiff. Without daring to speak, she snatched one of the glasses of wine off the round tray Tiff held in her hands and knocked back the bitter-tasting liquid in one, before continuing towards the door leading out to the beer garden.

Whatever good intentions Tiff believed she had in going through her Facebook friends list, she shouldn’t have done it. Going one step further than that and accepting the group invitation to join Exeter College leavers on her behalf was just wrong. It wasn’t Tiff’s place to decide what group of friends she should be involved with. And inviting Oliver? Jesus.

Finding a quiet corner of the garden, away from prying eyes, Louisa unzipped her bag and took out the pack of cigarettes. Her head swam, as it usually did with the first few draws. It was worse now though – she had too much alcohol in her system, as well as the tablets. Likely a dangerous mix, but no more dangerous than the mix of people in that room.

‘Are you mad at me?’

She turned sharply at the sound of the voice. Tiff approached Louisa with another glass of wine in her outstretched hand. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘This might take the edge off the shock.’

‘I doubt it.’ The words carried more venom than she’d realised she possessed. She took the drink anyway, not making eye contact with Tiff.

‘I’m sorry. I really thought we were doing something positive, and that it would give you a lift. Organising a small party—’

‘Small? Call that small, Tiff?’ She waved her arm towards the pub. ‘Shit. Small would be my little family and you. And that would’ve been fine. I’d have coped with that. But not this.’ She dragged on her cigarette. Her eyes stung. From the smoke, or from tears, she was unable to distinguish.

Tiff was silent, her eyes downcast. She didn’t even mention the fact that Louisa was smoking – it was Tiff who’d helped her give up four years ago, but she’d obviously decided now wasn’t the time to give a lecture.

‘I realise you were trying to do something nice. But why invite all the people from my Facebook? And – for God’s sake – why did you accept that stupid invitation to the Exeter College group and then invite Oliver Dunmore here?’

‘Shit. Because you didn’t talk about other friends – you never have! But, you know, I assumed those on your Facebook were friends, so didn’t see the harm—’

‘Tiffany. Really?’ Louisa shot her a disdainful look. ‘You were the one who added half of them when you set up the account in the first place, remember?’

‘Well, yes, but they are still your friends.’

‘So, you’re friends with everyone on your Facebook are you? Should I invite Sarah to our next girly night? You’d be good with that, would you?’

‘I – no.’ Tiff sighed loudly. ‘Sorry. Okay, okay. Fair point. But chill. So you don’t actually like some people I invited, no biggie – you don’t have to speak to them all. Everyone will be eating soon, and drinking loads – they won’t notice if you’re not being particularly sociable. And Oliver said only good things; he made it sound like you were great friends.’

Tiff telling her to ‘chill’ was bad enough, but her last line was the one requiring Louisa’s response.

‘How exactly did you contact Oliver, Tiff? There were no messages on my Facebook.’

‘There’d been one. I deleted it as soon as I read and replied to it, giving him my mobile instead. I immediately fessed up, Lou. Told him I wasn’t you, and that I was arranging this surprise party for your fortieth. He jumped at the chance to come.’

‘I bet he did,’ Louisa said, her teeth clenched.

‘Weren’t you good friends then?’ Tiff’s eyebrows knitted, a brief look of panic fleeting across her perfectly made-up face.

‘We were more than that, Tiff.’ Louisa put her cigarette out in the ashtray on the closest wooden table. ‘He was my first love. He broke my heart. Broke me, in fact, and when he left he took a part of me with him. A part of my memory at least.’

Louisa didn’t want to explain more. Couldn’t explain more even if she’d wanted to.

‘Oh. I’ve screwed up then, haven’t I?’ Tiff’s face paled.

‘Quite possibly, Tiff. Yes,’ Louisa said as she drained the glass of wine and turned to walk back inside.

9
THE PARTY

‘Mum, where’ve you been? Come on, the food is out. It’s the most food I’ve seen in ages.’ Emily’s eyes were wide as she took Louisa’s arm, dragging her towards a long table to the side of the room filled with a buffet-style feast.

‘Oh, sorry, love. Just had to get some fresh air, it’s all been a bit overwhelming.’ Her tongue felt funny: tingly and enlarged. She worried she was slurring her words.

‘I bet. I did tell Dad it wasn’t a great idea – that you were dreading being forty so a bloody party drawing attention to the fact would only make matters worse.’

‘Language, Emily. But thanks.’ Louisa put her arm around her daughter and pulled her in close. She realised it was the first moment of real closeness they’d had since Noah’s birth. Louisa had always felt lucky to have such a good relationship with Emily; they shared a closer bond than she’d ever had with her own mother. There’d been times when Brian had commented they were more like sisters: chatting about the latest films and TV programmes, gossiping and going clothes shopping together most weekends. Louisa hoped those moments would return once she’d got through the awkward early months with a new baby.

She turned her face towards Emily and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘You were right,’ Louisa whispered in her ear. As she lifted her head again, her balance faltered, and she had to hold on to Emily to keep herself upright.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Lack …’ Louisa took a slow, deep breath in and out. ‘Lack of food. Blood sugar’s low I think.’

‘Dad!’ Emily’s voice was shrill in Louisa’s ear. Damn. Now everyone was looking over at her. But it wasn’t Brian who came to her side.

‘Are you okay?’ Oliver had obviously been right behind her the whole time.

‘I’m fine. Emily’s just making a fuss. I’ll take these roasties and sit down for a bit. I’ll be all right.’

‘I’m not fussing, Mum. You looked as though you were about to faint.’

‘Don’t worry, Emily. I’ll take her, you go find your dad.’ Oliver’s dark eyes found Louisa’s – the intensity in them was one thing she hadn’t forgotten about the past, but the strong arm she felt around her waist was something new. He’d always been fit, but the thickness in his arms now was clearly the result of regular weights. Her heart picked up speed. She hated herself for it.

Oliver sat her down, placing the plate of food in front of her before sitting down himself.

‘How have you been?’

‘For the past twenty-two years? How long have you got?’

He gave a quick, nasal laugh. ‘I guess it’s been a long time. How about you tell me over lunch one day?’

‘God, Oliver,’ Louisa said, shaking her head in disbelief. The same slick Oliver who’d been the centre of her world for two years before he left her in their small town while he escaped to the University of York – the opposite end of the country – to do something with his life and ‘be something; someone important’. She wondered what, or who, he’d become, but she wasn’t going to ask.

‘Why are you at my surprise party?’

‘You mean apart from the opportunity to meet up with old friends?’ He cast his eyes around the room, but clearly not spotting any of those said friends, returned his attention to her. ‘I’ve just moved back here, temporarily at least, to oversee a new business project.’

‘Right.’ Louisa didn’t want to get into a conversation about what precisely this business was; she didn’t want any conversation really.

‘And, well, if I’m honest, I’ve never stopped thinking about you, Lou-Lou.’

She straightened, her muscles tensing, her lips pursed. ‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Sorry, old habits.’ He grinned. Louisa looked at his face properly for the first time. The square jawline, once smooth, was now dotted with stubble. It suited him. He still had black hair, but the hairline was higher up and less defined at the crown and temples than it’d been when he was eighteen. There were crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but they weren’t deep like Brian’s crow’s feet – somehow, Oliver’s made him appear distinguished. Rugged. He’d practically been a boy when he left. Now Louisa was sitting opposite a man. She didn’t know him anymore, but the spark that had drawn her to him at college alighted again now. Despite her mixed feelings, she was still attracted to Oliver Dunmore’s charm and good looks.

Louisa knew she had to bring herself back to reality. She thought about the woman standing beside Oliver on the stairs. ‘So, you’re married?’

‘Yes, but not for long,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

‘Oh, I’m sorry …’

He tilted his head back laughing. ‘No, we’re not separating. I meant she’s not been my wife for long. Married last year.’

Louisa’s stomach dropped. She urged herself to get a grip.

It didn’t matter if he was married, so was she.

Louisa’s gaze bounced from person to person around the room, searching for Emily and Brian. She needed them to interrupt this encounter, give her an excuse to get away. The food on the plate Oliver had put in front of her looked unappetising. It would be physically impossible to consume solids right now; she’d choke on every mouthful. Her pleasant, relaxing night away had rapidly turned into a nightmare.

‘Look, I’d best do the rounds, you know – mingle a bit seeing as all these people are apparently here for me.’ If Brian wasn’t coming to save the day, then Louisa had to excuse herself. ‘Thanks for coming. It was … well, good to see you,’ she managed. On trembling legs, Louisa got up and walked across to the nearest table, a fake smile in place to meet and greet her non-friends.

‘You’re doing great,’ Tiff said as she handed Louisa a bottle.

‘Bloody hell, Tiff – what’s this now? Lager? I’ve had far too much already.’

‘Nonsense. We used to put away loads more than this.’

‘But I haven’t—’

‘You haven’t got to worry about Noah,’ she cut in, ‘and I’m reliably informed you’ve expressed enough milk to feed all the babies in Devon. Let your hair down, woman!’

Louisa conceded. She had no strength to argue and couldn’t be bothered to correct Tiff’s memory of them drinking loads. It was always Tiff, not Louisa, who had got drunk. But if having more drink now helped get her through the rest of the party and then sleep solidly for eight hours, she’d take it.

An hour passed with Louisa managing to mingle with a few people, passing the time with basic-level chat, mainly consisting of telling stories about the exploits of their respective children. She’d lost count of how many drinks she’d consumed but she guessed it’d been too many judging by her blurring vision and the reduction in her ability to balance – even while sitting. Her swaying body was beginning to make her feel motion sick.

‘I’ll be back in a bit.’ Her mouth had begun to water as a wave of sickness rocked her. Louisa made her excuses and left the table.

The grass felt tickly and cool under her feet as she walked.

Where was she?

And where were her shoes?

Her handbag was over her shoulder, though. Good, she hadn’t lost that.

She stopped walking and pulled at it, trying to find the zip. Her fingers finally found the little metal pull. She reached inside. The bag dropped to the ground. Louisa’s eyes couldn’t focus well enough, her right hand swooping several times but failing to pick it up. She’d get it in a minute. She had the packet, at least.

A voice came from behind her.

‘Can I blag one of them off you?’

Louisa turned unsteadily to face the person who’d asked but she was still staring down at the cigarettes as she blinked several times in a vain attempt to clear her vision. She shook the packet, not trusting her eyes. Damn. Only one. She thought she’d only smoked five. She didn’t want to give her last one to a stranger.

As she looked up and her eyes finally focused, an image flashed in front of her. It wasn’t like the other ones she’d experienced; this one made each of the tiny hairs on her body tingle and stand erect. She lowered her head again, avoiding eye contact.

‘Yeah, go ahead.’ A fear consumed Louisa as she held out the packet containing the single cigarette. This was no stranger; she was sure it was someone she used to know.

10
THE HANGOVER
Saturday a.m. – Day 1 post-party

It took a few moments for Louisa to remember where she was. It was daytime – the light easily penetrating the pale cream curtains. She didn’t move; she couldn’t. Any movement might make her sick. Had she already thrown up? The taste in her mouth suggested she had. Slowly, she slid her mobile from the bedside table and tried to focus on the display.

10.23 a.m.

She stared in disbelief at the time. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d slept in that late, and she had no memory of waking during the night. That had obviously been Tiff’s plan all along – get her blotto knowing she’d pass out and be guaranteed to get solid sleep.

She didn’t feel all that rested though, just hungover. And that was a feeling she hadn’t had for a very long time. Her head screamed for water so, reluctantly, she eased herself out from under the covers.

Louisa winced as her feet made contact with the floor. Shit. They felt sore. Bruised. God, please say she hadn’t been dancing barefoot, making a fool of herself in front of her family. Her fake friends.

Oliver.

She shivered. It was as if her alcohol-soaked brain had only just remembered he’d been there – and it was reliving the shock of seeing him all over again. Louisa tried to recall if she’d spoken to him again after their first brief conversation. She screwed up her eyes. No. No memory of talking to him. But there was something – some elusive image teasing her, coming to the edges of her memory but no further. She couldn’t capture it. Tiff would more than likely fill her in on the night’s events, though she was probably feeling as rough as Louisa was.

Like an old woman – hunched and slow – Louisa walked to the table-top fridge in the corner of the room and retrieved a small bottle of sparkling water. The liquid she expected to be flavourless was sour in her dry, foul-tasting mouth, but it refreshed her. As she was about to place it back inside the fridge, a sharp pain, almost like an electric shock, pulsed through her head. She dropped the bottle. Water spread and puddled on the grey carpet.

Blood.

Louisa stumbled backwards.

With her next blink, the vision of the dark red pool had shot away and she was left staring at the water-soaked carpet.

There was a sharp knock on her door. Louisa took a hand towel from the bathroom, placing it over the spilled water, before opening the door.

‘Thank God for that.’ Tiff, her face serious and completely free of make-up, stepped inside the room and closed the door behind her.

‘What are we thanking God for?’

‘For you being in here.’

‘Where else would I be?’ A knot of worry began to tighten in her already painful tummy.

‘I lost track of you last night—’

‘What do you mean, you lost track of me? Didn’t we just get back here together?’

‘You don’t remember?’

Louisa’s initial worry-knot grew in size and intensity, the sensation increasing the sick feeling. No, she didn’t remember.

‘I’d had a lot to drink … I think I have you to thank for that.’

‘Sorry, you know what I get like after I’ve had one too many – I’m pushy.’ Tiff smiled apologetically and sat down on the bed beside Louisa.

For most people, having a lapse in memory after a heavy drinking session was funny – an expected side effect that gave rise to mickey-taking from others who had witnessed the drunken antics. But for Louisa, any gaps in memory only added to the dread that it was happening again. A period of her life during her last year of college was a complete blur to her – not just a day or two, but a huge chunk. For a long time afterwards, Louisa had experienced regular panic attacks, often for no apparent reason. The distress of why she couldn’t remember often overwhelmed her.

Her mum had pushed for her to see a doctor, saying it wasn’t right for a healthy teenager to have such debilitating attacks of anxiety. Louisa had only agreed on the premise that she could go on her own – not wanting her mother to know what might be causing them. Deep down she’d known that something bad had happened to cause them; there’d been a trigger – but she’d pushed it to the back of her mind until her mum had forced the situation.

The doctor had said stress was a factor for the panic attacks, but in relation to the missing chunks of memory, he’d mentioned something called dissociative amnesia. This in itself had caused more stress than if she’d not gone to the doctor at all. He’d talked about how someone could block out certain information because they’d suffered a traumatic event. Louisa had obsessed about this, gaining as much information about it as she could through library books and journals at the time, then looking up everything about it online years later. The memory loss associated with the disorder included gaps in memory for long periods of time, or of any memories that involved the traumatic event.

What that event might have been had plagued her. But the more she’d tried to remember, the worse it got. She’d continued to see a specialist for six months after she left college and, in addition to being prescribed medication, she’d learned techniques on how to manage her episodes of anxiety. The sessions had also aimed to help her recall what had triggered her attacks, but when none of the missing memories resurfaced despite the therapy, she stopped going. Once she’d met Brian she’d pushed her fears, along with the desire to find out and to recapture those memories, to the back of her mind. It was only recently, after Noah, that the old issues had come creeping back.

Louisa took a steadying breath and tried to consider it rationally. Last night she’d been really drunk – that mixed with no sleep and anxiety pills had more than likely caused her lack of recall.

But the vision of blood had come from somewhere, and the question of whether it was from the supposed traumatic experience in her past or from something that had happened last night filled Louisa with a sense of foreboding.

‘Earth to Louisa!’

Louisa started. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she’d forgotten Tiff was even there. ‘Sorry.’ Louisa grabbed her bag from beside her on the bed and jumped up. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ She ushered Tiff out the door first, then turned and closed it behind her. The resounding click was satisfying. Louisa hoped the events of the night, whatever they were, remained locked inside that room. She just wanted to go home and forget all about it.

11
THE RETURN

Tiff had booked them a taxi home – she’d quite rightly assumed she’d still be over the limit to drive. It was an uncomfortable journey and Louisa was grateful it was only a short distance. She didn’t want to puke in the taxi.

‘Are you coming in?’ Louisa asked as the driver stopped in front of her house.

‘Looking like this?’ Tiff made a circular motion around her face with her finger. ‘Er, no. I’ll ring you later.’

Louisa could’ve done with the back-up. What if she’d behaved badly last night? Brian might be mad at her. And if Tiff hadn’t ‘kept track’ of her, that must mean she hadn’t been in the main room with the others. She hesitated on the doorstep, a sense of dread debilitating any progress. Noah’s crying breached the door. One night away really hadn’t been enough. She could turn around now, leave and never return.

The naivety of her own thoughts irritated her. She couldn’t run away. Aside from not wanting to hurt her family, she didn’t even know what she’d be running from.

She pushed the front door open and walked through the hallway to find Brian pacing the lounge, Noah wailing uncontrollably in his arms.

‘Oh, good!’ he shouted above the noise. ‘I wasn’t sure what else I could do.’

The screaming was already splitting her head.

‘Has he had the whole bottle?’ She moved gingerly forwards.

‘Yes, two, actually.’

‘Oh. Well I expect it’s wind then if he’s had that much.’

‘It is two o’clock, Lou – he would’ve usually had two feeds by now, wouldn’t he?’

Yes. Of course he would’ve. Louisa had forgotten the time.

‘Pass him to me.’ Louisa took Noah from Brian and placed him over her shoulder and began jiggling him about. She looked into Brian’s eyes, trying to gauge his mood.

‘Are you still mad at me?’ he said.

‘I didn’t realise I was mad at you to start with.’ She frowned.

Brian lowered his head. ‘Tiff reckons you were just overwhelmed by it all but I saw something else in your eyes when you shouted at me – that I’d made a huge mistake throwing a party.’

Louisa swallowed hard. Another part of the night she didn’t remember. She was scared to ask what exactly he thought he’d seen in her eyes. Noah had quietened down despite his awkward position – his top half slumped over her shoulder so all she could see was his bottom and legs – and she swayed gently to keep him that way.

‘I was overwhelmed, yes. If it’d been people I knew well, I might’ve coped. But all those, well, strangers. It was a little much. Sorry if I came across as ungrateful, though. I know you and Tiff had the best intentions. And I certainly slept well.’

‘Yeah, I guess that was the goal really. That’s why I tried not to take it to heart.’

‘Take what to heart?’ The pulse in her neck was no doubt perceptible; what else had she said and done?

‘When you left early. One minute you were saying all you needed was fresh air, then you disappeared without even saying anything to the guests. Or us. Emily was pretty put out. But I explained that you were exhausted, and the party had taken it out of you. That you needed undisturbed sleep more than a surprise fortieth. Which, of course, was what Emily had said to start with. Sorry, I should’ve listened to our daughter.’

‘I’m sorry. Everyone must’ve thought me so rude.’ Her mind was dazed, confused at this new information. ‘Did you come by my room? Check up on me?’

‘No. I thought it best to leave you alone. And anyway, Oliver said he’d seen you going into the accommodation entrance, so I knew you were all right.’

‘Oliver saw me? Did he speak to you then?’

‘Yeah. Nice guy actually. We chatted for ages after you’d gone.’

Great, her ex-boyfriend and her husband getting buddy-buddy. That wasn’t what Louisa needed to hear.

‘Really? I take it he didn’t happen to mention we dated back in college then.’ Louisa thought that would produce shock from Brian – even though it was years ago, she imagined he’d feel curious about an ex showing up, maybe even a bit jealous – but his expression didn’t waver.

‘Yeah, he did say, but he brushed over it really – it was more in passing than anything. I don’t remember you ever mentioning him, so I guess you didn’t date for long, that it wasn’t anything serious?’

It was a loaded question. If she said, ‘no, not long, not serious,’ Brian would wonder why Oliver had been bothered enough to attend her party. On the other hand, if she said, ‘two years, and quite serious,’ he’d probe further – want to know more details about their relationship. Oliver’s motive for turning up to her fortieth birthday would also be more thoroughly scrutinised. Louisa decided it was best to do what Oliver had obviously done – brush over it.

‘We were teenagers, having a wild time at college – you know what it was like back then. How long or serious was any relationship? It was so long ago I can barely remember.’ Louisa wiped the beads of sweat from her top lip then quickly repositioned Noah, lowering him from her shoulder and nestling her face into his.

‘True,’ Brian said, not appearing to notice her discomfort, ‘and he didn’t seem the type to hold on to the past or be someone who’d never got over his first love.’ Brian laughed. Louisa almost asked what he did consider Oliver’s ‘type’ to be, and how he could tell from one conversation. She thought better of it, instead shining the spotlight elsewhere.

‘What about his wife – what was she like?’

Brian shrugged. ‘Wife? He didn’t mention a wife.’

‘Well, she was with him. At the party.’

‘Didn’t see him with anyone. Well, not in a couple-type way. He was talking to lots of people. Seemed to take a shine to Tiff …’

Who didn’t, Louisa thought. In her hungover state, the complexities of the evening were too much to decipher. As Noah was quiet, Louisa thought she’d take the opportunity to lie down with him. If she had a nap, things would be clearer afterwards. For the moment, Louisa had no idea what on earth had happened at her party.

But something felt off.

12
THE MESSAGE

Lovely to celebrate your milestone birthday with you last night. Being with you brought back so many memories. Can we meet? I need to see you. Something happened. Oliver xx

Louisa was sitting on the double bed, her back against the headboard and Noah asleep on a pillow on her lap. She stared at her phone in her hand. She’d reread the Facebook message several times since opening it an hour ago, each time attaching a different meaning to it.

The worst of those meanings was that she had gone back to her room, as Brian had told her, and Oliver had followed her in and they’d slept together.

Louisa prayed that was the worst-case scenario – and the wrong one. But what other meaning could ‘something happened’ possibly have?

Why the hell had Brian taken her ex-boyfriend’s word that she’d made it safely into the accommodation building? Granted it was only yards from the pub, but still. She was clearly drunk; she’d have expected Brian to check up on her himself, not to take some bloke’s word for it. Someone he’d only just met. This was his fault.

But whosever fault it was, Oliver’s words now glared at her accusingly.

Delete it. Don’t respond.

She didn’t delete it, closing the Facebook app on her phone instead. She’d block him later, so he couldn’t contact her again. She never should’ve bothered logging into Facebook; she knew full well it was a bad idea the first time, and why was she looking again now? She should delete her entire account and be done with it. But she’d read his message, and now she couldn’t unsee it. Whatever may have happened last night, it would’ve been a mistake. She’d been under the influence. Not only of drink, but of medication too. Unprescribed at that. Louisa tutted at her own stupidity. She’d only wanted to sleep, though. Who could blame her for that?

Louisa wrote out a text to Tiff. She went around the houses a bit – first off asking how her head was, then moving on to mention the party before finally asking if she’d had any recollection of seeing where she went after going out for ‘fresh air’ and not returning. It seemed odd to Louisa that she would say that and then not bother returning to the party. Unless she’d felt so ill she decided she’d be better off in her room.

Yes, that had to be it. She was worrying over nothing. Having not set eyes on her for over twenty years, Oliver had no reason to lie about having seen her stumble into the entrance to the rooms. His message must be to do with something else.

Either way, she knew she shouldn’t contact him. She was in a vulnerable position – an exhausted new mum, trying to cope with a baby as well as a teenager, hormones all over the shop. She feared it wouldn’t take much to fall under Oliver’s spell once more, and she had to avoid that at all costs.

Remember, he left you. Left you alone to face the consequences.

This thought, which appeared in her mind out of nowhere, made her legs go numb.

The ding of a text sounded. Tiff.

Feel like death. As far as my memory allows, though, it was a good party! That Oliver was a bit of a dish. Can’t believe you never mentioned him before! And no, I really don’t know where you disappeared to – last place I have a clear memory seeing you was the beer garden. But I only saw you from the window while I was chatting to some random, and you were with someone too, so I assumed you were OK. I’m sorry I was too far gone to come and find you. What a friend I am. Forgive me! xx

She wasn’t any use then. If Tiff had said she’d been chatting to Oliver after Louisa had done a disappearing act, that might’ve put her mind at ease a bit; he couldn’t have been in two places at once. But no – some ‘random’. Louisa cursed Tiff again for going through her Facebook friends. It could’ve been anyone.

Louisa carried the pillow with her sleeping baby on it to the nursery, placing it inside the cot. Carefully, she slipped Noah off and he gently rolled onto the mattress. Louisa let out her breath. He grumbled, wriggling a little, but then, thankfully, he settled. Transfer successful, she crept out of the room. Brian and Emily’s voices drifted up as Louisa hesitated on the stairs. She couldn’t make out what they were saying, but she caught the words ‘worried’ and ‘acting weird’. She turned and headed back to her bedroom.

She couldn’t face her family right now.

13
THE SHOCK
Monday – Day 3 post-party

There’d been little mention of the party, or its aftermath, on Sunday. Louisa had managed to cook a roast chicken lunch while Brian took care of Noah. If nothing else, he seemed to be making more of an effort. Perhaps now his secret party organising was over, he’d be more attentive.

Thankfully, now it was Monday, everything was back to normal. Brian left for his shift at 7 a.m. and Emily bolted out of the door, late, with a piece of cold toast in her hand at 8.10 a.m. The school bus would already be at the stop, but she always cut it fine and had only missed it once. That one time was awkward enough, though. Brian was at work, Tiff was unavailable, and Louisa had ended up paying for a taxi to get her to school. There’d been very few occasions in the past that Louisa regretted her decision not to drive and because her mum had been so involved when Emily was a baby, often taking them out, she hadn’t had reason to. Louisa had passed her test at seventeen but had only driven for just over a year – driving had never been something she’d felt confident doing.

Now, the feeling of being restricted with a newborn and being stuck inside the house, or only able to venture within walking distance unless she wanted to chance public transport with her screaming baby, made her think she should’ve been braver. Too late now.

The house was quiet and Louisa hoped she wasn’t jinxing it when she thought to herself that Noah had become more settled in the last few days. He definitely wasn’t crying as much. The break from her had done him good, clearly. She’d heard once that babies pick up on their mother’s moods, so it was likely he’d been distressed because Louisa was, and not the other way around. It was an interesting thought.

Louisa downed her third coffee and stared out into the street from the lounge window. The caffeine content was the only reason she drank it; she didn’t care for its bitter taste. She had to stay alert today. No more memory lapses, no more panic about whether she’d fed Noah. She had an idea. Placing her coffee on the table, she got a pen and pad of paper from the table drawer and put the day and date, then listed times from 7 a.m. to 6 p.m. in columns. Those were the times she’d be on her own today. Emily was going to her friend Evie’s straight from school to work on her science project, and Evie’s dad would drop her home after they’d eaten tea. Brian was due home between half five and six.

Louisa put a tick next to 7 a.m. Noah hadn’t fed for very long – literally two minutes, which wasn’t usual – but he’d seemed satisfied after. She recorded that too. Doing this meant she’d keep on top of things and if her memory blurred, she had this written proof she’d fed him.

All had gone well up until 2 p.m. Louisa cast her eyes down the paper at the ticks. Noah had fed three times. Each time for ten minutes from each breast. The length of time was definitely shortening; he either wasn’t taking as much, or she didn’t have as much to give and that’s why he was feeding more quickly. It had been such a long time since she’d fed Emily, she could no longer recall what her feeding patterns were like – maybe it was normal and she shouldn’t worry. Just in case, Louisa made a note on the paper to call the health visitor to discuss it. Although Noah seemed more content, that might be a bad thing coupled with not feeding enough. He could have something wrong with him.

The ringing of the doorbell jolted her from her catastrophising. She stared down at her sleeping baby and considered ignoring the bell. Moving might disturb Noah, and as all good advice informed parents: never wake a sleeping baby. It rang again. She decided she’d answer in case it was a parcel, and shuffled to the edge of the sofa, slowly making her way to the door. If it was important, they’d wait.

Through the textured glass, Louisa could only make out a large dark figure standing on her doorstep. Not someone holding a parcel, she noted. With Noah cradled in one arm, she opened the door tentatively with the other.

A split second after seeing the person in front of her, Louisa’s brain caught up with itself and she recoiled. Instinct told her to close the door and lock it. Her heart couldn’t be so blunt.

‘What are you doing here?’ She shook her head slightly in disbelief that Oliver would be so bold. ‘Who told you where I live?’ If bloody Tiff had something to do with this, their friendship was going to come under some serious scrutiny. Regaining some composure, Louisa tilted her chin up as she waited for him to explain himself.

‘You didn’t reply to my message,’ he said, clearly disregarding her second question.

‘I don’t reply to lots of messages, but the sender rarely shows up at my door because of it.’ A surge of annoyance permeated her tone.

Her curiosity at what his message had meant outweighed the warning signals. When it became clear he wasn’t going to respond to her comment, she continued.

‘I really shouldn’t invite you in.’ Louisa stuck her head outside, checking up and down the road. Oliver’s eyes followed hers.

‘I don’t think anyone is watching. You’re safe.’ He smiled.

‘Fine. Not for long though, you hear?’ She turned, placing Noah in the pram in the hallway before facing Oliver again.

‘Okay, Lou-Lou, anything you say.’

She was transported back – seventeen again – staring into those hypnotic deep-brown eyes, her whole body filled with admiration and love; naive and completely trusting the gorgeous boy who made her stomach shake, her hands tremble, her heart flutter furiously each time he said her name.

She must be careful now.

Louisa stood aside, letting Oliver slide past her into her house.

Into her life once more.

14
THE DISAPPEARANCE

Louisa didn’t go back into the lounge; she didn’t want Oliver making himself too comfortable. Instead she showed him into the kitchen, indicating he could sit at the table. On a hard, wooden chair. So much had been left unsaid since she’d last known him. Despite their proximity now, twenty-two years of nothing but absence separated them, and Louisa didn’t have a clue where to begin. She didn’t know what to say, how to behave. Did he expect her to be angry with him? Or pretend she didn’t remember the fact he’d left her?

‘I know it must be weird, me turning up out of the blue at your fortieth birthday party after all this time. Sorry for springing myself on you like that. I had tried to contact you before, you know.’

‘Oh, the Facebook group invites? Hmmm … No, Oliver, that really isn’t trying, is it? You only invited me recently, so what about the other twenty-odd years? Where were your efforts during that time?’

‘You’re angry with me. I can see that. But you know why I had to leave, Lou. I did it for you.’ He reached across the table, laying his hands on hers. She snatched them away, hot rods shooting through her. The man was deluded if he thought that leaving the girl who he told he would love forever was for her own benefit. Louisa balled her fists.

‘No, Oliver. I don’t think so.’

Oliver’s eyebrows raised, then knitted together, his brow creasing. ‘Is that what you tell yourself?’ He shrugged. ‘If that’s how you made it through, then I guess that’s up to you.’

Louisa was enraged at his attempt to wriggle out of being to blame for leaving her, but she wanted to move this on and, specifically, uncover precisely what had happened the night of her party.

‘Whatever. So anyway, what exactly is it that you want?’

She didn’t expect his answer.

‘Melissa is missing.’ His eyes glistened with tears.

For a second, Louisa struggled to make sense of his statement. Then, perhaps sensing her confusion, he added, ‘My wife, Melissa. I haven’t seen her since the party.’

‘Oh, my God, Oliver. Missing, like, need to call the police missing?’

‘I’ve held off calling them – didn’t want to create a fuss, not yet. We’d had, well … a bit of an argument. Melissa often gets emotional; angry too. She goes off on her own sometimes to sort her head out – doesn’t contact me for days, then comes waltzing back as though nothing ever happened. I assumed this was one of those times. It might still be, I guess. It’s only been just over forty-eight hours.’

‘Assumed. You said assumed. What has changed now, to make you think it might not be one of those times?’

‘You. You happened.’

‘Ah, no … no.’ Louisa put both hands up to her temples, her elbows resting on the table. ‘Don’t bring me into this. What have I got to do with it?’ Louisa got up then, moving away from Oliver. She strode across the kitchen and opened the door leading to the hallway. ‘On second thoughts, don’t answer that. I’m not interested. You can’t show up after twenty-two years and land this on me. I think you should leave now.’ She swung her arm towards the door. ‘Please,’ she added.

‘Louisa. I need you. Your help. I’m about to go to the police and report her as missing. They’re going to ask me all sorts of questions – they’ll blame me, I know they will.’ He was beside her now, the warmth of his body perceptible. He laid a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s always the husband, Lou. That’s what they believe – the police, the general public. Always.’ His eyes pleaded with Louisa’s. ‘You can help me. Like I once helped you.’

Louisa reeled back from him. ‘I don’t know what you think you did for me but I can assure you, I can’t help you, Oliver. Go to the police, do what you have to do. I really hope Melissa is just having some time out and returns home quickly. Good luck.’ She ushered him through the hall and out of the house.

Leaning against the closed front door, Louisa’s breaths came in short bursts.

You can help me, like I once helped you.

She repeated the sentence in her head. Did his voice have an edge of desperation? It’d sounded almost menacing.

She screamed as a force banged against the door, propelling her back away from it.

‘Please, Lou. At least come with me to the police? I can’t do this on my own.’ His voice sounded distorted through the glass.

‘Why? Why should I? I’m sorry about Melissa, Oliver, I really am. But I’m not coming with you,’ she shouted.

‘But I think it might have been to do with your party. Something happened there, I’m sure of it. Please, Lou-Lou, they’ll want to ask you about the party anyway, may as well come with me – it’ll save you time later.’

His words created a wall of fear around her.

Something had happened that night.

She opened the door again.

‘But I didn’t see Melissa at the party,’ she said coolly. Her voice belied her feelings.

‘You must’ve.’ His voice was almost a whisper. Worry, or concern – or maybe disbelief – etched itself on Oliver’s face.

‘I – I don’t remember. I’d had so much to drink. The evening is pretty much one big blur.’ Louisa regretted her words instantly. If she couldn’t remember anything, she couldn’t tell the police anything. But at the same time, it meant she couldn’t confidently deny seeing Melissa, or knowing anything about her disappearance either.

Louisa’s stomach twisted as she suddenly questioned whether Oliver could be lying. He did say Melissa had gone off for days at a time before – it was possible he knew this was just one of those times but was making it out to be more purely to make Louisa feel sorry for him.

She should call his bluff.

‘Wait there, then. I’ll get Noah’s car seat.’

If it was a bluff, it was a convincing one, and Oliver had now taken it to the next level.

Louisa waited on a plastic chair in the reception of Newton police station, Noah in his car seat next to her. Oliver had been in there for over an hour, and Louisa’s bum was now numb, her patience wearing thin. It crossed her mind that if Melissa really had gone missing, then some woman with a baby accompanying the missing person’s husband to the police station might look a bit off. Particularly if they discovered she was Oliver’s ex-girlfriend whose party he’d just so happened to be at when his wife was last seen.

Finally, a door opened along the left-hand corridor and Oliver sloped out, his head hung low. The impossibly tall man, who’d introduced himself as Detective Sergeant Mack, then called her name. She picked up Noah’s seat and made her way to the room Oliver had just vacated. As she passed him, Oliver placed a hand on her arm, giving it a squeeze. He looked terrible – his usually tanned skin now looking pale and waxy.

Louisa was only in the small interview room for about twenty minutes. DS Mack asked her a list of questions relating to her party: the time it started and ended, how many guests, if she remembered when people left, if she remembered seeing Melissa. There was a lot about what she remembered. Louisa’s head spun. She told him she didn’t remember some of the details, like when it ended, because she’d gone to bed before the guests had all left. She stated she had not seen Melissa. Her memory couldn’t exactly be classed as reliable, so it was best not to give information that might turn out to be misleading. After all, Louisa may well have been mistaken – her shock at the surprise party had meant she wasn’t taking in everything right. The woman at Oliver’s side when she’d first encountered him at the top of the stairs could’ve been another guest arriving at the same time as him.

The drive back to Louisa’s was peppered with awkward silences. Oliver only spoke a few sentences – mainly repeating the same thing:

‘You know I wouldn’t harm anyone. You know that, Lou-Lou, don’t you?’

From what little he’d said about how he’d been treated in the interview room after reporting Melissa as missing, Louisa had to conclude that Oliver had been right: the suspicion he was somehow involved in her disappearance was clear. He’d told the police of their argument and once he’d mentioned that, he said the atmosphere altered.

‘They’re assuming they’ll find her under my floorboards,’ he said. He appeared serious. Louisa suddenly felt sorry for him.

When they reached Louisa’s road it was five-thirty. Brian’s car wasn’t parked outside, so Louisa allowed Oliver to drop her right to the gate so that she wouldn’t have far to carry Noah’s car seat.

‘I hope she comes back, Oliver. She might already be at your place when you get there.’

The humph sound he made suggested he didn’t believe that but something niggled inside Louisa. Did he know she wouldn’t, couldn’t, return?

Oliver cupped Louisa’s chin with one hand, turning her face so she was looking directly at him. Their noses were almost touching. Oliver’s eyes narrowed.

‘I didn’t have anything to do with it,’ he said. His breath tickled Louisa’s skin. She closed her eyes, trying not to think about how close their faces were – how easy it would be just to kiss him.

‘I wasn’t saying you had,’ she said. But Oliver’s expression was one of disbelief, like somehow he’d just read her thoughts.

‘Really, Louisa. I’ve no idea what went on. I think it might’ve been something at the party that sparked her to disappear voluntarily. Or it wasn’t voluntary and someone else from that night is responsible.’

Icy tendrils touched her spine.

Not only had she not wanted, or asked for, a party full of people she barely knew – but now this party was turning out to be a nightmare, one that clearly wasn’t going to go away any time soon. Not if Oliver suspected something at her party had caused Melissa’s disappearance. Not knowing how to respond, Louisa instead told Oliver to let her know if there were any developments and, breaking the strange bond that had held her in his gaze, she turned away from him and opened the car door.

Blood.

Blonde hair matted with blood.

A woman.

Louisa gasped and sat bolt upright, pulling the duvet off Brian. Despite this, he slept on, oblivious to her rapid breathing and distress. Sweat trickled down her back. She didn’t know why she was seeing these images, but she was convinced that the woman in her dream was Melissa. In reality she’d never seen Melissa’s face, but in her dream she felt it was Melissa; knew it was her. But now, just moments later, she could no longer recollect the woman’s face. Scrunching her eyes tightly, she did manage to retrieve a vague memory, but only of the woman’s body – her below-the-knee black dress, slim, tanned calves and her feet: pretty gold-painted toenails.

So, she did remember something about her.

Cold grass. Tickling her feet.

She didn’t know where her shoes were.

She wanted a cigarette.

A voice behind her.

Louisa clutched her abdomen as a wave of nausea rippled through her as quickly as the memory had.

Something bad happened on Friday night. She could feel it.

It was a feeling she’d known before.

15
THE CHAT
Tuesday – Day 4 post-party

‘Hey, Tiff. Are you free for a coffee this afternoon?’ Louisa fiddled with her dressing gown cord, twiddling it in one hand as she held her mobile to her ear.

‘Um … I’ve got a meeting at school at lunchtime, so would be towards two-ish, will that do you?’

‘I’m not going anywhere.’ Louisa gave a dejected laugh. ‘Pop around when you finish.’

‘Is everything okay? You sound a bit down.’ Louisa could sense Tiff’s concerned frown.

‘I could do with a chat, that’s all.’

‘Sure thing. I’ll drop into the shop on my way, get some yummy pastries!’

‘You know the way to my heart, Tiff.’

‘Of course, darling. Right, must run. See you soon.’ And the line went dead.

Louisa sighed. She’d felt numb ever since Oliver turned up at the house yesterday; she’d wandered around not really knowing what to do with herself. Being on her own most days, with only Noah for company, was beginning to make her stir-crazy. She should be going to every baby group running because being with other mothers and babies would make her feel as though everything she was experiencing was normal, but she couldn’t shake the awkwardness she’d felt when she’d been to Bounce and Play last time. Forty wasn’t the oldest age anyone had ever had children, but she was the oldest in that group. She was experiencing different things to most of the mums; she didn’t quite fit in, couldn’t relate to all the chat. It appeared the worst of their worries was getting their flat bellies back.

She could really do with returning to work more quickly than planned, to get back to adult interactions again – avoid baby talk completely. She’d told the accountancy firm that she was taking a full year, but now a few months had passed she was coming to realise that was unrealistic. Yes, she wanted to give Noah the start – the attention – she’d given to Emily when she’d had her, but it was different this time.

The boss was fine with her taking the full year. Louisa had worked there since leaving college; she was one of the longest-serving accountants at the firm. Whilst other people saw that as an achievement, Louisa knew deep down it was because she couldn’t face changing jobs, learning something new. She could carry out her role there without much thought, running on autopilot, which would suit her just fine when she went back with what Tiff lovingly called ‘baby brain’.

Louisa checked her phone for texts, then her Facebook, just in case Oliver had messaged, updating her on Melissa’s missing status. Nothing. He’d been all for gaining her help yesterday, begging her to go with him to the police – and now he didn’t have the decency to keep her in the loop. Perhaps she should text him. The thought played on her mind for a few minutes before she gave in to it.

Any news on Melissa?

She’d kept it simple to ensure there could be no misinterpretation. Then she paced the lounge, waiting for her phone to ping.

Twenty minutes went by and he still hadn’t responded. Perhaps she should turn up at his door this time, but she had no clue where his rented flat was. His Facebook account still stated Lives in York. Presumably he hadn’t updated his page since he’d got married either as his relationship status read ‘single’. He’d told Brian that following his whirlwind romance with Melissa, he’d persuaded her to move to York to be with him. Apparently, she was a Devon girl too, although Oliver hadn’t gone into detail about how they’d met and supposedly Brian hadn’t been interested enough to ask. Louisa knew they’d only come back to Devon recently, and that it was temporary – to set up a new branch of Oliver’s business.

Louisa wondered whether it was because he wasn’t planning on staying long that he hadn’t bothered updating any of his social media. Mind you, she couldn’t deduce much from Oliver’s Facebook page because she wasn’t actually friends with him. She could only see the posts he’d made public – and his profile pictures, which for a reason she’d never fathomed, were always public on the site, regardless. But none of those depicted Melissa, or the two of them together, which was rather odd being that he was newly married. Louisa had thought he’d want to show Melissa off.

She wondered if she should send a friend request so she could see more information though it was possible, she mused, that he was like her and didn’t use the social media platform much. It may have been something he used purely to get in contact with her.

The thought made her feel queasy. Why, after all this time, had Oliver Dunmore looked her up?

Louisa didn’t settle, her muscles tense, jumpy. Pacing seemed to be the only thing she could do. She’d put Noah down to sleep after she’d fed and changed him at one, and he’d gone out like a light. She made sure to put a tick next to the time on the sheet she’d created for today’s feeds, then made use of the time by pottering around in the kitchen. She’d even managed to collect a dirty pile of washing from Emily’s bedroom floor and put it in the machine. Now, at just after two o’clock, she noticed Tiff’s car draw up outside. Louisa rushed to the door before Tiff could ring the bell and wake Noah up; she needed uninterrupted time with her friend.

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes.’ Tiff gave Louisa a one-armed hug, her other hand holding a bag of pastries. She walked on through to the kitchen, and retrieved two plates from the cupboard. Tiff often made herself at home and knew where Louisa kept everything.

‘I assume you have bottled water?’ she asked, bending to check the fridge.

‘Not cold, no – there’s a bottle in the larder, though.’ Louisa allowed Tiff to take over her kitchen. In a weird way, she enjoyed being mothered. Her own mum didn’t visit anymore, and after their ‘falling-out’ episode, Louisa only made infrequent trips to her parents’ home and even then it was only if one of them called, usually to say there was a problem that only Louisa could deal with.

The last time had been almost a month ago, and that was to change the hallway lightbulb. They’d barely set eyes on Noah – and for a reason Louisa couldn’t understand, didn’t seem all that bothered that they were missing out on his early months. She knew they were getting old now, but she had to admit, their lack of interest hurt her feelings. No matter what they’d fallen out about, their baby grandson should not be the one paying for it. Emily was in the midst of her teenage ‘I don’t want to visit them’ stage anyway, so she wasn’t worried about the lack of contact.

The argument had been so pathetic, too. Louisa remembered it had started when her mum had made a flippant remark about her anxiety attacks back in college – how Louisa had been poor at coping even back then. But as with most family arguments, she couldn’t remember how it had progressed to this point; how it’d stretched on for years. It was as though now it had begun, one of them had to carry it on to the bitter end, neither wanting to be the first one to ‘give in’ and apologise.

‘Here you go,’ Tiff said, handing Louisa the You’re My Queen mug Brian had bought her for Valentine’s Day. Because they needed more mugs.

‘I know you said you couldn’t remember much about my party, but I need you to tell me everything you do remember. You said you’d met Oliver; did you meet his wife too?’

‘Bits and pieces came back to me, you know how it is. Of course I remember the delightful Oliver. He’s so gorgeous, Lou.’ Tiff gave a coy smile.

‘Yes, yes – he’s certainly pleasant to look at …’

‘I can’t remember him even mentioning his wife though, let alone seeing her. Are you sure she was there?’

‘Well, this is the thing, Tiff. I think I saw her standing alongside Oliver when I first saw him, but I was too shocked seeing him there to take her in. Brian doesn’t remember seeing her, and now, neither do you. And I’m not sure enough to say either way.’

‘What does it matter?’

‘She’s missing.’

‘God, really?’ Tiff gasped. Louisa observed an immediate spark of interest light up her face.

‘Yes, and the last place Oliver saw her was at my party.’

‘Did she just go home early?’ She frowned. ‘I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me if she’d got the hump – Oliver was rather, let’s say, familiar, with some of the female guests.’

‘You, you mean.’

‘We seemed to hit it off, yes.’ A smile played at the edges of her mouth. She really could be incorrigible at times.

‘He was smooth even when he was only eighteen. He’s downright slippery now it seems.’

‘I didn’t get that kind of creepy, smarmy vibe though, Lou. And let’s face it, my radar for those types is pretty good.’

‘Yes, I know. But something isn’t right about all this.’

‘Like?’

‘The timing for one. Why after all these years has he decided to make an effort to contact me – and just a year after getting married? And why make that first contact at my surprise birthday party of all places?’

‘Opportunity? I gave him that by accepting his invite to join the Exeter College group, didn’t I. So, he took it. I don’t see anything malign in that.’

‘No, I suppose. I’m obviously reading too much into it.’ She almost conceded, then remembered what he’d said. ‘But he said something that set my nerves on edge; the way he spoke it had an air of menace to it. A threat even.’

‘Oh, Lou, I’m sure you must have read him wrong.’ Her voice rose in pitch. ‘What did he say exactly?’

Louisa tried to ignore the slightly condescending tone. Tiff obviously thought she was over-reacting. ‘He was asking for my help – wanting me to go with him to the police to report Melissa missing, and when I said no, he said: You can help me, like I once helped you. And it was the way he said it. Like I owed him. And he had the gall to say he’d left for me. When I challenged him, he made out that I’d been lying to myself about the reasons he left me. He didn’t make any sense. But I did go to the police with him, and now I feel he manipulated me into it.’

Tiff looked thoughtful for a moment and Louisa was hoping she’d have to agree with her that Oliver’s behaviour had been odd.

‘What did the police say?’ she finally said. Louisa’s shoulders slumped. Tiff had chosen to only pick up on the last part.

‘Oliver said they asked loads of questions, about the party, who Melissa’d been with, about her friends and family, places she might go to – she’s apparently gone AWOL a few times in the past.’

‘They aren’t treating her as a vulnerable person, then, otherwise we would’ve heard more. Did they ask you about the party?’

‘Yes! And I felt such a fool. Kept having to say I couldn’t remember. I really wish I hadn’t drunk so much.’

Tiff screwed her eyes up, giving Louisa what appeared to be a silent apology for her part in that. ‘They might want a list of people who were there. We’d best go through your friends list, the one I used to invite everyone. If I’m honest though, I have no clue which of them were there, and which ones weren’t. Obviously I knew some of our mutual friends, but not the other randoms.’

‘Do you think it’ll come to that? To the police asking for names?’

‘If Melissa doesn’t show, and the police can’t find any evidence of her using her phone, her bank accounts or anything, then yes, they’ll scale up the investigation.’

‘How come you know so much?’

‘I went through it once. A long time ago now, but it still sticks in my mind.’

‘Oh? You never told me that. Who went missing?’

‘My friend – someone I’d met through my charity work when I was in my early twenties, so a long time before I met you. It was so sad – they never did find her.’

‘How awful. I’m sorry, Tiff. God, I do hope Melissa is found quickly. And safe and well.’

Darkness.

Blood.

A body – crumpled and still, lying on the ground.

A figure looming above it.

The image popped into her head, the words You can help me, like I once helped you echoing in her ears.

Louisa wished these images would stop. They had been coming more frequently since her party.

Since Oliver.

She hoped he would hurry up and return her text message.

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