One good lie, p.11
One Good Lie, page 11
As Ruby wandered up the driveway to her car, Ewan’s family situation niggled her. Why exactly was he estranged from his sister? And why was there no record of him online, no social media footprint? It was almost as though he was avoiding someone, or that he had something to hide. And why would Charlotte Manning’s murder upset him so much? Did he know her better than he was letting on? Nobody, apart from her, knew he was out that evening in Market Deeton. Did Ewan have a history of affairs, or worse, a violent background? As much as she couldn’t believe he’d have anything to do with the murder, she needed to find out more. She needed to ensure Sophie was safe.
Back at the car, she pulled her phone out of her bag. Tom had followed up his call with a text – Call me when you are free. She ignored the message − it was probably something to do with the running shoes he wanted anyway – and switched to Facebook Messenger, typing out another quick message.
I’m sorry to bother you again. Ewan is dating my sister and I have some important questions I need to ask. If you could spare a few minutes of your time, I would appreciate a quick chat. Please call me as soon as you are able. Thank you.
She re-read the message, added ‘in confidence’ after the ‘chat’ and typed her mobile number at the end. Then clicked send. Either their situation was due to a family argument, a private squabble of little substance in the wider world, or there was something more sinister afoot. And Ruby desperately hoped it was the former.
Chapter 26
Sophie stood at her bedroom window and watched Ruby drive off. She wasn’t herself, the unresolved issues over her relationship with Tom obviously bothering her.
Her phone tinkled in her pocket. Another text from Greg. Any news on next weekend? This access issue wasn’t going away. She needed to make some decisions, talk it over with the kids.
A hand pressed on her shoulder. Sophie jumped and turned to find Ewan beside her. ‘I didn’t hear you come upstairs,’ she said.
‘You disappeared suddenly. Everything okay?’
She tucked her phone in her pocket. ‘I came up to check on the children.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘Do you think Ruby’s all right? I’m worried there’s more to this break with Tom than we realise. I’m wondering if I should go to Bridget’s with her.’
‘She’ll be okay, she’s a big girl. Come on, we need this day out tomorrow, it’s our anniversary. The beginning of the rest of our lives, remember?’ He was standing awkwardly, hands tucked behind his back.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Which hand?’
‘Ewan!’
‘Come on.’
She tapped his left arm.
‘I got you something.’ He pulled out a dress scarf in soft pastel shades of pink, yellow and milky blue.
‘Oh my goodness, Ewan! It’s beautiful. It’ll look perfect with my denim shirt.’ The silk slipped in and out of her fingers. ‘But you can’t afford—’
He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. ‘What we have is special. You know that, don’t you?’ He slid his hand to her waist and drew him to her.
The kiss was watery and light, his nose brushing hers as he pulled back. Sophie’s heart melted.
‘Allow me,’ he said, taking the scarf and wrapping it around her neck.
She moved across to the mirror. He watched her reflection over her shoulder as she stroked the soft threads. ‘I love it. Thank you.’
He took the ends of the scarf and gently twisted her to face him. Winding it around her neck again. It was taut to her skin now. Another tug.
Sophie lifted her hand to her throat. ‘What are you doing?’
He didn’t answer. Pulled again, his gaze glued to hers.
‘Ewan, don’t.’
She felt her windpipe constricting as he tightened again. Gasped for air.
His face relaxed. He released his grip. ‘It’s only a bit of fun,’ he said, smiling.
‘Mum!’ Alfie rushed along the landing. ‘Daisy’s got my handset. She won’t give it back.’
Sophie loosened the scarf and coughed, rubbing her throat.
‘Has she now?’ Ewan said, ignoring Sophie. He bent down and scooped the little boy into his arms. ‘Well, we’d better go and sort it out then, hadn’t we?’
Sophie watched him walk across the landing with her son balanced on his hip and move into Daisy’s room, and rubbed her throat again. She pulled the scarf from her neck and looked in the mirror to find two pink lines where it had been.
Chapter 27
It was almost four when Ruby pulled into Shetland Avenue.
A couple emerged from the house opposite as she climbed out of her car. The man dressed in a dark suit, a blue open-collared shirt. The woman in a strappy red dress that flowed to her ankles. They gave one of those awkward acquaintance-type waves. Ruby waved back and watched them move off down the road hand in hand. They seemed happy, relaxed. Blooming with the optimism of a long evening in front of them. She wondered where they were off to. A wedding reception, a party, a dinner? There was a time when she and Tom would dress up and walk into town on a Saturday night. It was the only night he’d go into town; he preferred local pubs during the week. But on a Saturday, he’d groom his hair and beard, the sweet smell of his aftershave wafting through the house, and it would feel new and special, like their first date all over again. The memories induced a pang of sadness.
She rounded the privet hedge surrounding her front garden, approached the front door, and stopped, her eyes resting on the handle. It was sitting bolt upright. Instinctively, she turned back and checked over her shoulder. The road outside was empty. She looked back at the handle. The lock worked fine, but occasionally the handle didn’t drop down properly. Ruby always lifted it down and left it horizontal because she didn’t want people to realise it was broken and try to force the door. Clearly someone had been there.
She was reminded of Ewan trying the handle. Had he been back? He hadn’t mentioned it when she saw him earlier.
Perhaps it was Tom, dropping by to collect his running shoes. That would explain his call. Maybe he’d found his key. Her stomach dropped. She desperately hoped he wasn’t still there. She certainly wasn’t ready to continue their lunchtime discussion. Not yet.
She tried the handle, relieved to find the door still locked, used her key and moved inside. The air in the hallway felt displaced, as if someone had recently been inside. Her gaze immediately went to the dish on the hallway table. Her spare keys sat there alone.
She called out Tom’s name, her voice echoing around the walls, and wandered into the front room. The cushions were still arranged across the back of the sofa, the remote control beside the television where she’d left it that morning. In the kitchen, her used coffee mug sat in the sink. Nothing had been moved. It must have been Tom. A fleeting visit to collect his running shoes or something else he needed.
A shiver ran through her. The temperatures had plummeted over the last few days. She climbed the stairs, opened the door of the airing cupboard and flicked the central heating switch on. She was just pushing the cupboard door to a close when her eyes dropped. Sitting on the floor were Tom’s running shoes. She remembered now. He’d done a park run on a wet day back in May. The rain had been relentless; he was soaked to the skin when he finished. He must have left his running shoes in there to dry off. Though that didn’t answer the question of why the door handle was raised.
Ruby crossed to her bedroom. The bed was made with the throw laid across the bottom as she’d left it that morning. Her bathrobe hung on the back of the door. She opened her bedside drawer – her passport and chequebook were still there. Her jewellery box on the window ledge still contained her mother’s gold St Christopher necklace. She must have been mistaken. Perhaps the postman had caught the handle. She shook it out of her mind. She needed to get a grip. Charlotte’s murder and the incident with Ewan were making her jumpy.
In any event, Tom wanted those shoes for a park run tomorrow, which meant he’d be calling by for them soon. The prospect of him turning up, wandering in while she was sitting in front of the television or taking a bath put her on edge. She wasn’t ready to talk, she realised that now, and she wouldn’t relax if she thought he was going to come in at any moment, not after the way things were left at lunchtime.
Ruby picked up the shoes, descended the stairs, popped them in a carrier bag and grabbed her keys. She might as well save him the trouble of coming over and drop them at his. She could make it short and sweet, say she was on her way out somewhere. At least it would keep him out of her hair for a while.
Chapter 28
The Saturday afternoon traffic was thick with shoppers. It took almost fifteen minutes to drive across town and by the time Ruby arrived in Tom’s road, her patience was wearing thin. What she needed was a warm bath and an early night before the journey to Norfolk in the morning.
Tom was living with a friend at 43 Cumbernauld Street, on the eastern edge of the town centre. It was a pleasant location: three-storey terrace houses faced each other across a tree-lined road, all with small front gardens edged with drystone walls. Ruby wasn’t sure how far down the street the house was, and she inched along, squinting to check the numbers and then parked up in a space diagonally opposite on the other side of the road. She was climbing out of her car when the door of number 43 opened.
Ruby wasn’t sure why she felt the need to hide. It was almost instinctive to duck down behind a nearby Volvo, directly opposite. Peering through the car window, she watched Tom at the door. He’d changed into a loose T-shirt and jogging bottoms, his hands bulging the pockets. He was deep in conversation with someone, she was pretty sure they were male, but they were standing with their back to her and she couldn’t see who it was.
Seconds flitted past. Ruby was beginning to feel self-conscious. Had it come to this? Spying on her former boyfriend. Though, she’d been there a while now; she could hardly suddenly appear. Finally, the man stepped back. He was hunching his shoulders, nodding. He turned. There was something familiar about him.
Ruby peered closer. Yes, it definitely was him – the police officer who’d taken her account at the station. What was he doing with Tom?
They shook hands and the officer walked down the short pathway. He was coming towards her.
Ruby bowed her head and placed her hand in the carrier bag she was holding, pretending she was checking for something. She pushed the running shoes about. The officer didn’t look in her direction. He climbed into his car opposite, turned over the engine and drove off. Tom had gone back into the house now and closed the door.
Ruby dithered for several seconds. Maybe she could hang the bag on the door handle and make off quickly. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation, although she was dying to know why the police at been at Tom’s door.
As it turned out, she didn’t have to make the decision. She was bustling across the road when the door opened again and Tom stepped out. He walked down the pathway to meet her.
‘Hey,’ he said.
Her eyes dropped to his feet. He wasn’t wearing any shoes. Good job the rain had held off. ‘Hi.’ She felt distinctly uncomfortable.
‘I saw you out of the front window.’
‘I brought your running shoes over.’ She held out the bag.
‘Thanks.’ He took the bag without looking inside. ‘That’s really kind.’
‘Okay, well I’d better go,’ Ruby said, pointing towards her car. ‘I’m on my way out.’
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he said, ignoring her statement. ‘It came out all wrong.’
The sight of his face softening, brown eyes gazing down at her, dissolved her former anger. ‘I’m sorry I missed your call.’
‘We really should talk.’ An uncomfortable steeliness crept into his voice. ‘You could come in now…’
‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ She pulled back her sleeve, made a play of glancing at her watch. Though she didn’t move. The need to know what the policeman was doing there poking her like a cattle prod.
‘Of course.’ His face fell. ‘Tomorrow then?’
‘I’m going to see Bridget. Next week would be better, I’ve got a busy few days coming up,’ she said. ‘Let me know when you’re free.’
‘All right. Give Bridget my love.’
‘What was the officer doing here?’ she asked, changing the subject.
‘What?’
‘The police officer.’ She pointed at the house. ‘I saw him leave.’
‘Oh. I was in town on Tuesday evening, when… well, you know. I saw some lads hanging around in High Street, wanted to let the police know. They insisted on coming out when I called them. Probably wanted to check where I was living, make sure I was who I said I was. This isn’t my address on the voters’ register.’ He avoided her eyeline. ‘Saw your boss out too. Looked like he was on a date.’ He pulled a face.
‘Mark?’
He nodded.
Odd that Mark hadn’t mentioned being out on Tuesday evening, especially as there’d been so much talk about the murder over the last few days. But it was Tom that really bothered her. Out in town, during the week. It didn’t sound like him. Granted, he’d been going out more this year, but he still spoke about avoiding the town pubs midweek. She waited for Tom to expand, to say he was with a friend, or it was a work commitment. But he buried his eyes in the pavement. Unless of course he was seeing someone new…
‘Okay, well I’d better get off,’ she said.
‘Right.’
She turned towards her car and shouted back over her shoulder. ‘Enjoy your run.’
He was still standing on the pavement in his socks when she pulled away down the street, confusion tumbling through her insides. She needed to put distance between them. Distance to sort out what she wanted, distance to stifle the permanent drum beat in her head. He hadn’t mentioned he was in town on the night of the murder when they met earlier. Occasionally, he met with clients but usually during the day. And his tone was off. Why was he so uneasy?
Perhaps he had met someone. Ruby and he had been close. He wouldn’t want to hurt her feelings by slipping it into conversation, he’d want to tell her properly, face to face, to cushion the blow. It was the only explanation she could think of. Was that why he’d asked her for lunch – to finish it and make room for someone new? Though she’d left abruptly and he’d missed the opportunity.
Ruby’s chest knotted as she turned the corner at the bottom of the street. He’d had ample opportunity to meet someone else during their break. He could have slept with half of Market Deeton for all she knew.
The knot tightened as memories from the past couple of years swooped in. Tom in the kitchen, cooking bacon for breakfast, wearing nothing but an apron and a postcoital glow. Long walks over the fields, picnics in the summer. Unlike other men she’d dated, Tom didn’t care whether she wore make-up, or if her hair was groomed. He was easy, natural. Said she was beautiful either way. Didn’t complain when she picked the skin around her nails when she was nervous. Suddenly she realised that, deep inside, a part of her had held onto a tiny thread of hope that, after the trial, they might be able to patch things up and go back to the way they were. Though any prospect of a reconciliation seemed unlikely now. Because Tom had already moved on.
Chapter 29
I watch you drive off down the road. It amuses me how much alike we’ve become. Both creeping around, avoiding confrontation, while keeping a watchful gaze on unknowing others.
The truth is, it’s surprisingly easy to watch people, learn intimate details about them when they don’t feel vulnerable. Most people drift through life, concentrating on the task at hand. They take the kids to school, drive to work, get the car to the garage on time for its service, and block out what’s around them. Murderers, rapists and paedophiles are released from prison and walk among us, yet most of us are so wrapped up in our own lives, we don’t even realise they’re there.
I see everything.
And we are all creatures of habit. Even you. You start work at nine, but always arrive fifteen minutes early. You pop out to the café next door for a takeaway coffee mid-morning. The barista asks you if you’d like anything else, a cake or a biscuit, but you pat your waistline and say you’re watching your weight. He knows what you are going to say, but every day he continues to ask. It’s one of those routine conversations that makes you both chuckle. In the evenings, you sit in front of the television. I can tell if it’s a favourite programme because you twiddle your hair around and around your middle finger, rapt. And you leave your curtains open.
You think you are safe, hiding behind that tall hedge. You think it protects you from prying eyes. You’re wrong.
Chapter 30
A gull screeched overhead as Ruby locked her car outside the red-brick bungalow. The gravelled front garden was neatly edged with a split-flint stone wall. A hanging basket filled with white geraniums beside the front door swayed from side to side in the soft breeze. It was a clear day, if a little chilly, and the smell of fresh bread wafting towards her as she walked up the pathway made her stomach growl.
The door opened before she reached it and a grey-haired woman in navy slacks and a linen shirt appeared, smiling from ear to ear. Bridget looked smaller than when she’d last seen her, as if she’d shrunk in the last month.
‘Hello, my darlin’!’ Her aunt flung her arms around Ruby. The embrace was so tight she could feel the woman’s shoulder bones jutting out.
Ruby pulled back. ‘You’ve lost weight.’
‘Ah, it’s just old age, so it is,’ Bridget said dismissively.
‘You’re not old. Not yet.’
Bridget ignored her and peered past her into the road. ‘Didn’t change their minds then?’
The disappointment in Bridget’s voice when she’d phoned yesterday to tell her Sophie and the others weren’t able to come still tugged at Ruby. ‘No, sorry. Some confusion over a school thing.’ The lie slithered around Ruby’s mouth like an annoying hair.
