One good lie, p.23
One Good Lie, page 23
‘Why?’
‘She came over to help. But that isn’t what I need to tell you. She went to London yesterday and met with your sister, Isla.’
Ewan stiffened. ‘Why would she do that?’
She ignored his question. ‘You didn’t tell me you had a wife and kids.’
He closed his eyes, swiped his hand down the front of his face. ‘It isn’t what you think, Soph.’
‘What? Are you telling me you aren’t married then?’
He hung his head. ‘It was short, a bad decision, and it’s really not important.’
‘How can you say that? You’ve got kids!’
‘They’re not mine. Look, Soph, if you just give me a chance to explain…’
‘She said you manipulate people.’
‘What?’
The door burst open and Daisy ran into the kitchen. ‘I need eggs for school tomorrow. We’re making fairy cakes.’
‘What?’ Sophie tore her gaze away from Ewan.
‘Eggs – I need to take two to school tomorrow.’
Sophie cursed under her breath. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I’m telling you now.’
She rubbed the pads of her fingers into her eyes. She desperately wanted to probe Ewan further, but there was no way she was going to do it in front of her children. ‘I’ll have to go to the shop. We’re out.’
‘I’ll go,’ Ewan said.
‘No. You put the children to bed. I need some air. We’ll continue this conversation when I get back.’ She pulled her jacket off the back of the chair, grabbed her phone and purse and marched out of the door.
Chapter 56
Ruby lay back and immersed her head beneath the surface of the bathwater, relishing the soothing heat travelling to every limb, every sensory receptor.
She’d been tough on Lewis. He was only trying to help, trying to get Ewan out of the way and safeguard Sophie, trying to be a good friend to them both. He shouldn’t have meddled, not without speaking to her first, but she couldn’t deny his intentions were well placed.
She dragged her head out of the water. She was dangling on the edge of a precipice, holding on by her fingernails. She needed to find a way to reason with Sophie, to make her see sense, and she needed to convince the police to dig deeper into Ewan’s actions.
She climbed out of the bath, dried herself off and reached for her phone. A missed call from Lewis. He was checking up on her and she was grateful for his concern, but she didn’t have the energy to deal with him. She’d call him back tomorrow, apologise with an invitation out for a beer.
Her phone rang. It was Kat.
‘Hey. Did you manage to get hold of Sophie?’
‘I called by, but the house was quiet. I did get a reply to yesterday’s text to say she was a bit busy this week, and could we leave it until after the weekend.’
‘Okay.’ Ruby wasn’t sure whether that was positive or not.
‘What happened today? I was worried about you.’
Kat listened quietly as Ruby told her the full story about Ewan’s arrest and her conversations with Sophie.
‘Goodness! How long’s he been into drugs?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know if he is.’
Kat gasped when she told her about catching Sophie with Valium tablets bought off the street. ‘Is he still in custody?’
‘I think so. I haven’t heard from Sophie since she sent me packing. I only hope they keep him in, Kat. For all our sakes.’
‘Oh, I asked Graham about whether he’d seen anything in The Crown. He hasn’t. He didn’t even know they were pushing drugs there.’
That seemed strange, especially with Lewis claiming it to be common knowledge. Common knowledge amongst whom?
‘How was work?’ Ruby asked, keen to change the subject.
‘Okay, the usual. Don’t worry about Mark, he’s still swallowing the migraine story.’ Her tone lowered slightly. ‘Though he is acting a bit strange.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He took a two-hour lunch break today, despite you being off, and there was nothing in the diary. Bloody cheek! It was manic too.’
‘That’s not like him.’
‘I know. When I asked him what he was up to, he said he had things to sort out. I hope he’s not thinking of selling the business or something.’ She groaned.
But Ruby’s job was the last of her worries right now. All she could think about was that Mark had been one of the people out on Tuesday evening when Charlotte was killed. And he was behaving oddly. ‘I saw him at the station yesterday,’ she said.
‘What time?’
‘About five-ish. He looked like he was waiting for someone.’
‘He told me he had an appointment on the Oakwell Estate, on the other side of town. Oh, I don’t like the sound of this.’
Ruby didn’t either, but for different reasons. ‘I’m sure he isn’t thinking of selling,’ she said hastily. ‘He wouldn’t know what to do with himself without Galanti’s.’
Kat rattled on about work and Ruby’s clients she’d spoken with. Ruby zoned out, her thoughts returning to Charlotte’s father, Nigel Manning, and his pitiful interview online. Charlotte’s murder had to be linked to her mother’s death. Every instinct in her body screamed it. Perhaps it was time to visit Charlotte’s father. ‘Listen, do you think you can cover for me one more day?’ she asked.
‘I guess so, why?’
‘I need to try to sort out this stuff with Sophie.’ The lie caught like barbs in her throat. Kat was a good friend. But she needed to formulate the idea in her mind before she could be sure.
‘Okay. Keep me updated. And stay safe.’
Ruby swiped to end the call, switched to Google and typed in Nigel Manning. Numerous searches came up relating to Charlotte’s disappearance, her murder. She worked her way through them until she found an old article mentioning their family home on Cunningham Road in Market Deeton. Cunningham Road was a few streets away from her mother’s shop. She’d driven along it a couple of times, using it as a cut-through when High Street was busy.
She switched to images and various photographs graced the screen from the numerous posts and articles about him over the last year. About halfway down, there was a photo of him outside the front of a terraced house. The edge of a blue factory door cut in beside. A water droplet dripped down from her hair and landed on the phone screen. There was a shoe factory on the corner of Cunningham Road with a blue folding door. She needed to find the factory door, locate the house beside it. Maybe then, she’d get some answers.
Chapter 57
Sophie took her time walking back from the shop, scraping her heels against the paving. Leaves skittered around her ankles. The wind had picked up and after a day of being tucked up inside, sitting beside the phone, she relished the fresh air flushing out her lungs.
She was still seething at Ewan’s words about his marriage – short, unimportant. What did he mean? He said the kids weren’t his. When it came to it, neither were hers.
Ruby’s face as she’d shared the details earlier slid into her mind. She’d looked concerned, scared. Was she scared for Sophie, or frightened at how it would affect their relationship? And then there were Ruby’s comments about her bruises…
An evening lying on the hearth rug in front of the fire, a month or so after she’d met Ewan, sprang to mind. Wine, chatter and sex. She could still see the candle flame dancing in Ewan’s eyes as she raised the subject of previous relationships. He was reluctant to join in, said the past should be left in the past. But when she told him about Greg and then talked about Dean, an old flame from school, he’d shared about a woman called Heather he’d lived with for a while in Glasgow. A relationship that morphed into a friendship, he’d said. Yet not once had he mentioned he had been married.
Her hand absently went to her throat. She stroked the bruise, flinching slightly at the tenderness beneath the skin. She hadn’t enjoyed the scarf incident on Saturday; it reminded her of her poor mother. She’d told Ewan not to touch her neck again, it was out of bounds.
The conversation with Ruby, her hints at abuse pulsed through her. She wasn’t being abused. She was a willing participant. Wasn’t she? It certainly all started willingly. She recalled their early days when the sex was edgy, exciting, sensual. Ewan was considerate and caring, setting up safe words to ensure they stopped if either of them was uncomfortable.
Problem was, recently he hadn’t always listened to the safe words.
Sophie rounded the corner, slowed her step to a dawdle, eyes unfocused as she cast her mind back. It was shortly after her mother died when he’d said he wanted them to find new ways of stimulating each other, to take them away from the worries of the day. The changes were small at first. A sharp pinch of a buttock one evening, fingernails running down her back, pressing just a little too hard into the flesh, another. Then, as time moved on, he started to tie her wrists, cover her eyes, and the pain became more intense. By day, he was the perfect boyfriend, the perfect stepfather to her children. By night, in the front room of her suburban home, he transported her to places she’d never before experienced.
She’d been wary to begin with, worried for the children. She wasn’t worried they’d wake. They slept deeply and Ewan had installed baby monitors to ensure they’d hear them if they stirred. She was more concerned about the perils surrounding the world they were entering. She was a single parent, a mother and father to Alfie and Daisy for most of the week. But Ewan assured her it was all about trust. There were rules. As long as they stuck to them, it wasn’t dangerous. During those moments they shared together, he took her away from everything. She was no longer Aileen McBride’s grieving daughter, she was a sensual independent woman, strong and unbridled.
Since the trial, the pain had become stronger, more intense. Now she was in a whirlwind, a swirling vortex of pleasure and pain and she didn’t know how to stop. A part of her didn’t want to. It was intense, and… she loved him, didn’t she? He was brilliant with the kids, good company, helpful around the house. She’d never loved anyone so deeply. But they were entering into more risky territory and the notion that he’d been through this with someone else, that what they were doing wasn’t exclusive, changed everything.
She recalled the burning slap of his hand across her skin yesterday evening. Biting on a cushion to mute her cries. Afterwards, he’d massaged her with oil, taking great care on her sore areas, and he’d told her how special she was, how special they were. Because they did things other couples only fantasised about.
But today, as she limped along, her back crying out with pain and the question mark of a drugs charge and another family hanging over them, she was beginning to wonder. Is that what Ruby meant when she said he’d hurt someone else? Had they gone too far? She’d always believed he would stop if she really needed him to. He wouldn’t push her beyond her boundaries. Now she wasn’t so sure.
She walked alongside Brockleton Park. The melodic sound of the wind swishing through the trees pervaded the air, but Sophie wasn’t listening. All she could think of was, how did she get to this point with Ewan? She needed to slow everything down, find a fresh foothold. At least until she really knew what was going on with the wife and kids in Glasgow.
She was almost at the children’s playground when she heard a rustle and turned. A figure darted out from the bushes. Sophie froze. Dressed in black, only the whites of their eyes visible through the tight mask covering their head. She jumped back, gasped. And in that split second, they moved behind her. Fast, nimble. She opened her mouth to scream, but before any sound emitted, a hand stretched across it, wrenching her head back. The box of eggs slipped out of her hand, crashing to the floor. She struggled, pain ripping the side of her scalp as her hair was pulled under the grip.
Her phone dropped out of her pocket. Her purse followed.
The blow to the side of her head came from nowhere. She blinked away the fuzziness. Tossed, turned, struggled. A hand shot around her chest, pinning her arms by her side, the other at her mouth. And she was being dragged. Dragged towards the bushes at the side of the playground, heels scraping the concrete path. Arms fighting against the steely grip. Leaves bunching beneath her, catching the edge of her clothes. She tried to lift a foot to kick out, but gravity was defying her.
A knee hit her lumbar spine. She felt her legs wobble. The bushes starting to encase her. Sickening fear, paralysing her.
The headlights of a car, a blinding light, hurtling towards her. A weight tossed her to the ground. Excruciating pain tore through her shoulder as it connected with the concrete. A screech of brakes. The car mounted the pavement. She could only stare, mute, mouth wide open as it headed towards her. The bonnet halting inches away. Footsteps running. Running towards her, or away? She couldn’t be sure. Everything was a blur.
‘Are you okay?’
Sophie shrank back. She was on her side on the pavement, the concrete scratchy and hard beneath her, an elderly couple peering down.
The grey-haired man moved away. The woman slipped off a jacket and draped it over her, the wool soft and gentle on her skin. ‘It’s okay, you’re safe,’ she said. The car headlights glinted on the gold buttons of her dress as she knelt beside Sophie.
Sophie shivered.
‘Try to breathe,’ the woman said. ‘My name’s Sarah.’ She wove her bony fingers through Sophie’s. ‘Are you hurt?’
Sophie stared back at her. She wanted to say no, but her mouth wouldn’t work.
‘There’s an ambulance on its way,’ the man said, re-joining them, concern etched into his forehead. ‘Police too.’
‘This is my husband,’ Sarah said to Sophie. ‘We saw you were in trouble, pulled over to help.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Turn those headlights off, will you?’
Slowly Sophie’s vision started to clear. She could see Sarah’s coiffed hair, the bangles jingling on her wrist. ‘Ewan,’ she squawked out.
‘What did you say?’ Sarah leant in closer. Sirens rang out in the distance now.
‘Please! You need to get Ewan.’
Chapter 58
‘Follow my finger,’ the doctor said, covering her right eye.
Sophie blinked at the beam of light shining into her face and did as she was told, fighting to keep her left eye open. The evening had passed like a series of badly disjointed dreams, punctuated by flashing lights. The blue lights of the police car, the glare of the ambulance, the beam of the headlight driving towards her…
The figure dressed in black, grabbing her. Dragging her into the park…
‘Okay, that all looks fine,’ the doctor said, flicking off his torch. ‘You’ve taken a blow to the head, you’re battered and bruised and you’re in shock, which means you need to rest. I’d like to examine your shoulder—’
‘It’s fine,’ Sophie said, backing away. ‘Just a bit of bruising.’ She wasn’t about to let him see the marks Ewan had made on her back.
The doctor paused. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’
She nodded.
‘Okay. If you rest, you should be all right in a couple of days. I’d like to keep you in overnight though.’
‘I can’t, I have children.’ She pictured Daisy and Alfie sleeping in their beds, blissfully unaware of the danger their mother had faced.
‘I’m sure Christine will stay over with them,’ Ewan said, tightening his grip on her hand.
As soon as he’d heard, Ewan had arranged for their neighbour to sit with the children and raced to the hospital. But apart from their weekends with Greg, she’d never left them all night and she couldn’t bear the thought of them waking in the morning without her. ‘I can’t, Ewan. I can’t leave them.’
‘It’s your choice,’ the doctor said. ‘You really ought to have someone with you. I don’t recommend you drive either.’
‘I’ll take care of it,’ Ewan said. He flopped to her side as the doctor left the room. ‘Oh, Soph. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.’
She looked across at him, unable to answer, her mind a whirr. Who had attacked her? Why?
Strong arms reached around her, hugging her gently. Ewan rested his head on the top of hers. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed there. She could feel the warmth of his skin, his breaths gently lifting wisps of her hair. Unspeaking. And all she could think about was – she’d been attacked. And the man consoling her, the same man she shared a bed with, who played with her children, who’d been her boyfriend for the last year, had a wife and kids. She was beginning to wonder if she really knew him at all.
The door opened and a man and woman entered, both in suits – him tall and slim with receding hair, her short and curvy. In different circumstances, they might have looked comical.
The woman pushed a bushy long fringe out of her eyes and introduced them both as detectives, flashing their cards. Sophie didn’t catch their names, barely able to listen, her mind elsewhere. ‘The couple that stopped,’ she said. She wanted to see them, thank them. She couldn’t even remember their names.
‘They’re fine,’ the woman said. ‘They’re at the station, giving a statement.’
Goodness knows what would have happened if they hadn’t arrived when they did. Sophie reached forward and pulled back the blanket covering her legs. She needed to get home.
‘Why don’t you rest for a while,’ the female detective said, moving to her bedside. ‘You’ve had quite a shock. We could do with asking you some questions, if you feel up to it?’
‘I don’t think this is a good time,’ Ewan said.
The detective ignored him. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree, the sooner we catch whoever did this to you, the better,’ she said to Sophie. ‘Now, can you describe to me exactly what happened?’
Her colleague pulled a notebook out of his pocket and clicked the end of a pen.
