Doppelganger (17 page)

In fact I would much rather have
been on my own, so I could just go upstairs and crash out. The events of the
last days had taken their toll, and I could barely keep my eyes open.

“I’m sorry just to turn up like
this, but I didn’t have your phone number,” she said hesitantly. “Maybe it’s
not convenient.”

“No, It’s nice of you to call.
Come in, please. Are you fully recovered now?”

“Yes, been out of hospital a few
days now.”

My sitting room was pretty basic:
minimalist décor, white ceiling and walls and a dark wood timber floor, what’s
more my single armchair didn’t match the sofa. I’d been meaning to change the
ceiling light for something more modern, felt ashamed of the drably shaded
pendant with its low wattage bulb, which now cast a miserable pall over the
room, throwing shadows everywhere.

“You live alone?” she asked,
looking around.

“Is it that obvious?”

She smiled. “Everything looks
clean and tidy, but there’s no woman’s touch. No flowers, no pretty pictures on
the wall.”

“I just sleep here, and use the
other downstairs room as an office. Would you like a glass of wine?” I asked,
remembering I had an open bottle in the fridge.

“Yes please, as long as I’m not
keeping you up.”

“Let me take your coat.”

The red dress hugged her figure
and as she sat on the sofa the skirt rode up an inch above her knees. I moved
the coffee table beside the sofa, poured wine for both of us and put the
glasses there.

Looking back on it, maybe it was
a mistake to sit next to her on the sofa. It was a three-seater, so I sat at
one end, leaving a space between us.

“Jack, I really came because I
wanted to thank you for what you did.” She reached across to the coffee table
for her glass and took a sip of wine.

“Honestly, anyone would have
done–”

“–I know. But if you hadn’t been
driving along the road when you were, I’d have been done for. The hospital told
me that my heart stopped just after it happened, and that you gave me
artificial respiration in the middle of the road – you saved my life.”

“Been a long time since I practised
with a rubber dummy in my St John’s Ambulance training. I’ve never done it for
real before – it was a tremendous thrill when you started breathing.”

“Was I more fun than the rubber
dummy?”

I smiled at the joke, but to my
surprise, she wasn’t smiling back. She looked at me for a long time. Then she
inched closer to me and reached across and her hand touched my arm, just
gently, tentatively, and she left it there. Caroline carefully tucked up her
legs up beneath her, her eyes never leaving my face.

“It feels so strange, sitting
here with you,” Caroline said, her face reddening slightly. “Imagining what you
did to me that night.”

“I just did what–”

“–anyone would have done. I know.
Why do I keep saying ‘I know’?” She moved a fraction closer so we were almost
touching, her hand moving against my chest. “But since then I’ve had these
fantasies. It’s stupid of course. But I’ve had these fantasies of you kissing
me again. Kissing me properly this time. I longed to know what it would feel
like.”

The way she was looking at me was
almost mesmerising. A stray lock of hair had fallen across her eyes, and I
found myself wanting to tease it away from her face with my fingers.

“I got engaged six weeks ago,”
she muttered breathlessly. “But since what happened I’ve decided I just don’t
want to see Geoff any more. There’s something about you Jack, I don’t know what
it is. Ever since I met you I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Geoff is nice
enough, he’s lovely actually. But he’s just a boy. You’re a man. A real man. You’re
different, you’re so special...”

“No–”

“Yes you are!” She put a finger
to my lips. “Yes you are, Jack, you’re special.
So so special
...” Her
face was within an inch of my own. I was aware of her hot breath on my cheek,
the tang of fresh lipstick. It seemed wrong, mad, crazy, yet at the same time
as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Yet I was in love with Lucy.

Or was I?

The truth was, ever since I’d
found out who she really was, my feelings for Lucy had changed, but I couldn’t
admit it, even to myself. Did I love her? Or was it the drama of it all that
I’d been caught up in? I honestly couldn’t say.

What’s more, Lucy hated me now.
Ever since Lucy had spoken to her former admirer, who just happened to be a
lesbian, she hated me and now she wanted nothing more to do with me. In fact
she hoped that Sean Boyd would kill me, she’d said so only this morning – and
sure enough Boyd had almost succeeded, almost as if she’d wished it on me.

It was all over between us
...

“I’ve broken off my engagement,
Jack.” Caroline put her arms around my neck, was pressing her body close,
whispering in my ear. “I don’t want Geoff. I want a man like you. Someone who
can fight for me and who’ll look after me. I’ve been thinking about you all the
time while I was lying there in hospital. Thinking about what it would be like
to touch you and hold you, and feel you close. Hold me Jack, please, just hold
me tight, that’s all I want you to do, nothing else. .”

“Come on Caroline, this is
crazy–”

 “What’s the harm?” Her lips
touched my neck. “I want to be near you, Jack, I just want to be near you.
That’s all. Nothing has to happen if you don’t want it to. I just want you to
hold me.”

I pulled away. “No, look, I’m
sorry Caroline, let’s just stop there. I’ve got a girlfriend.”

“Really? I’m sorry. I didn’t know
that.”

“Even if I hadn’t got a
girlfriend, this is too sudden. It just feels wrong.”

“Why? Don’t you like me?”

“I don’t even know you.”

“And don’t you
want
to
know me?” A tear formed at the corner of her eye. “No of course you don’t. Why
should you?” The tears fell faster, smudging the mascara, as she sobbed
quietly. “I’m sorry Jack, I’m embarrassing you, I’ve made such a fool of
myself. You don’t fancy me, why on earth should you? I’m sorry, I feel such an
idiot. I’ll just go and leave you in peace.”

“No. Caroline, please–”

“Have you got a tissue?” She
sniffed, was trying to blink away tears. “I’m sorry, Jack, this is so pathetic,
how you must despise me–”

“Despise you? How can you
possibly think that?” I traced a finger along her cheek, nudging away the
tears, allowing it to stray down the side of her neck. “I think you’re wonderful.”

“You don’t–”

“I do.” I felt the softness of
her skin beneath my fingers, ran them down her neck. When I kissed her, tasting
the tears, I felt her clinging to me, the faster breathing, the way her body
melted into mine, my own physical response to her closeness.

Why not?

Lucy had made it clear she didn’t
want me. I’d nearly been killed today, had experienced a whirlwind of emotions,
and needed the reassurance that someone, just
someone
in the world cared
whether I lived or died. With Lucy the emphasis was always on
her
and
her
problems. Yet all the time it was me who had real, tangible life-threatening
difficulties to deal with, and she was so wrapped up in her own issues she
hardly cared.

My heart beat faster. My fingers
ran along Caroline’s spine, my lips nuzzled her ear. She pulled away gently,
smiling. Reached round behind her back to unzip her dress.

I saw the silky red material fall
forwards to reveal the black lacy bra enclosing the soft mounds of flesh.

And suddenly in that moment I knew
that I was making a mistake. I was on the rebound from Lucy. Tempting as it
was, I just couldn’t go through with this. It was madness.

Then, as if to reinforce my
decision, there was a loud knocking at the front door.

“Don’t answer it,” Caroline
whispered in my ear, drowning me in the moment. “I want you Jack,” she
whispered urgently, her eyes closed. “I want you now.
Please!
I’ll never
ask again, I promise. You can forget me afterwards, but please, just this once,
let’s be together. We’ll go upstairs, we can ignore whoever it is – they’ll go
away soon.

“I’ve got to see who it is.”

Fearing the worst, I edged into
the hallway and looked towards the door, wondering if I could make a run for it
in time.

“Jack, open the door, it’s me!”

With relief I recognised Lucy’s
voice, and walked to the door and opened it. She was standing on the step.

“Jack, thank God, you’re all
right!”

And she was in my arms and I was
stroking her hair and holding her close and breathing the soft scent of her
skin, feeling desperately ashamed of my feelings of a few moments ago. And I
realised in that moment that I didn’t want Caroline, it was a momentary
impulse, a crazy moment of madness that had only happened because I was scared
and confused. I wanted Lucy,
No one but Lucy
. And I’d been mad to think
otherwise.

“I heard a newsflash on the radio
that two gangsters had tried to run a journalist off the road, and one of them
had been killed,” she whispered. “I was afraid you’d been killed. I’ve been
trying to get you on your mobile all day.”

“It’s been switched off. I’ve
been at the police station–”

“It was you then? You were
involved in the accident?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry my darling, I’m
sorry,” she was telling me, holding me close. “I didn’t mean what I said, I
love you so much, I was just so upset I just wanted to lash out, and say
whatever I could to hurt you. I swear I never wanted anything to happen to
you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re here.
Northing matters anymore.”

When we went into the sitting
room it seemed that Caroline had caught on to the situation. She’d already
dressed and even put her coat on and was standing up, ready to leave. She even
wore a good-natured smile.

And then something weird
happened. Even today the thought of it sends a chill through me.

The moment Caroline saw Lucy’s
face she stepped back and gasped. She tried to hide her shock, and managed to
recover quickly.

“Lucy, this is Caroline – the
young woman who was hurt–”

“Of course, you were in the
hospital where I do voluntary work,” Lucy smiled at her, apparently unaware of
Caroline’s double-take. “Edith Grendel Ward, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Oh!” Caroline
returned the smile and nodded to herself. “That must be it – sorry Lucy, it’s
just so peculiar because when I first saw you I was certain I’d seen you before
somewhere – somewhere recently, around the time I had the accident. But of
course, it must have been when I was semi-conscious in hospital in those early
days.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s where we’ve
met,” Lucy agreed. “I’ve never worked on Edith Grendel, but I pass through
there now and again.”

 To my relief, Caroline made her
excuses and stood up to leave, muttering that she’d just dropped in to thank me
for what I’d done for her. I managed to move the wine glasses behind some
furniture, so that Lucy didn’t see them.

Lucy stayed the night with me. In
the morning I’d enjoyed the best rest I’d had for weeks. From being on the edge
of despair everything was going better than I could have possibly hoped. Lucy
still loved me, and had forgiven me for behaving as I had. I now knew for
certain that my nightmare fear that Lucy could be Megan Foster was nailed once
and for all.

The Caroline almost-incident was
nearly forgotten. I put it down to being one of those mad things that just
happen in life, and you move on and forget them. More than anything else I was
glad that I hadn’t made love to Caroline. It would have been a disastrous
mistake, and not fair on either her or Lucy. A temptation of the moment, that
didn’t count for anything, something we would have both regretted later.

At least, that’s what I thought
at the time.

Sean Boyd had got away. There was
no proof he’d ever been in the car, only my testimony, which counted for
nothing. However, the lesson to learn was, from now on I couldn’t take any
chances at all and had to be on guard twenty four/seven.

But once the book was published I
could breathe easily, and the reason for the contract would be null and void,
and I could get on with my life without looking over my shoulder.

Admittedly the blood sample that
the police had found linking me to the killing of the hit man might possibly be
matched to my DNA, but I had my doubts. It had rained later that night, and the
chances were that even if any of my blood had been on the step it had been
washed away. Similarly, I considered that Fulford’s clumsy attempts to prove
I’d set Sean Boyd’s car alight would fail. The detective hated me and wanted to
put the squeeze on me as much as he could. I was confident that that was one
worry that could be pushed to the back of my mind. All I had to be concerned
about right now was completing
The Bible Killer
and making plans for
when Lucy’s shop-owner friend recovered enough to return to her business,
setting Lucy free to return home. When that happened we could see each other
every evening, and perhaps we’d have the time to sort out our differences. I
had not yet told Lucy about the book about the Canterbury killings I was
writing, and when she found out there’d probably be another row; however, that
could wait.

*
* * *

Lucy’s childhood home was a
Hertfordshire village called Chorton Hardy. The following morning, a Saturday,
she insisted on us going straight down there, so she could show me her
childhood haunts.

“Look, there’s no need for us to
go,” I tried to explain. “I
believe
you. After all we’ve been through, I
swear that I’m certain now that you’re Lucy Green, Megan Foster’s
doppelganger.”

“That’s not the point,” she said,
shaking her head. “If I don’t nail this suspicion in your mind once and for
all, it’s always going to be standing between us, gnawing away and creating a
rift.”

“But I believe you.” I held her
in my arms.

“I’ve had to live with this
nightmare since I was 19 years old, when that woman was released from custody.
Everything’s fine for ages, then suddenly someone recognises the likeness
between me and Megan Foster. When Lisa Chilcott died that seemed to be the end
of it.”

“So?”

“But I’m in love with you, Jack.
I have to prove to you I am Lucy Green, just an
ordinary
girl from an
ordinary
background. Don’t you see? While ever you have any doubts, our relationship is
doomed.”

We started the drive early, after
Lucy had made sure that her friend Kirsty could continue to cover for her in
the shop. We arrived in the small village in the early evening, and booked into
the Golden Crown hotel in the main town square.

The next day started out sunny,
Chorton Hardy’s main town square alive with shoppers swarming into Waitrose,
and the high street was packed with Christmas shoppers, dashing in and out of
the stores. Lucy directed me to the outskirts of town, to an area of
semi-detached houses, and we stopped outside number 15, Crescent Gardens.

“This is the house where I was
born, and we lived here until I was six,” she said quietly. “Go through the
side gate and there’s a long garden with a weeping willow tree at the end, and
a small pond. There are four fruit trees on the right.”

“You don’t need to do this–”

“I do! Because, Jack, until
you’re absolutely convinced that I am Lucy Green, who was born in this house in
1972, the daughter of Daniel and Alison Green, there’ll always be this tiny
shred of doubt in your mind.”

“You’re making too much of it
all–”

“No. No I’m not.
Come on!
”

She got out of the car and I did
too. I followed her up the garden path and watched her knock on the door.

The bemused lady who answered it
seemed surprised at the intrusion, and when Lucy explained that she had been
born and brought up in the house, and would the lady let us take a quick look,
I never thought she’d agree. But when her husband joined her at the door, he
listened to Lucy’s story and smiled and welcomed us inside.

And the house was just as Lucy
had described to me in the car before we went in. A room on the right with a
large Yorkstone fireplace, the bathroom which, when Lucy lived there, had had a
green suite but now, as the man of the house explained, they’d replaced with a
white basin, bath and WC. In the garden the weeping willow and the pond were
still there, but the fruit trees had disappeared – the couple told us they had
removed them when they first arrived.

After lunch at a pub, Lucy
directed us to the south of the city, to a large school, Eden Gate Girls Public
Day School. The gates were wide open, and people were marching in and out
freely. The poster at the gate announced that they were holding an antique fair
in the main hall. We paid for tickets and went inside.

Amid the throng of people I was
intrigued by the antique furniture, something I’ve always been interested in,
and while I admired a Chippendale desk, Lucy got talking to a woman who looked
to be in her late fifties. A few moments later she introduced us.

“Jack, this is Miss Whitton, my
old biology teacher.”

I shook hands with the amiable
woman, who recounted stories of Lucy’s antics when she was in her form, the
junior fifth.

It should have been an idyllic
day, the day that ended all my doubts about Lucy’s identity, and of course it
did. There was now absolutely no doubt in my mind that Lucy Green was simply
Megan Foster’s doppelganger. And that it was certain that the killer, Megan
Foster, was dead: she died under her new identity of Lisa Chilcott, when she
deliberately crashed her car into a tree at eighty miles an hour.

I had no doubts about Lucy’s
identity.

But I did have doubts about
whether I was as much in love with her as I thought I was.

*
* * *

It was midday on Tuesday, just
after Lucy had left for York, and I was driving away from a long meeting with
Stu to discuss how to approach the first chunk of
The Bible Killer
, and
the best way to handle the rest of the book. I’d packed away all my papers, and
Stuart’s notes and tapes, and was on my way to Wales, aware that Sean Boyd
might easily make another attempt on my life, but that soon the book would be
published and my problems would be over. My mobile rang and I answered it
without a care in the world. I was on the A28, just outside Canterbury, heading
for the motorway. I pulled in to the side of the road.

“Hi, Jack Lockwood.”

“Jack, this is Caroline.”

“Oh, hello.” I remembered I’d
given her my phone number when she’d come to my house.

“Listen, about the other night.”

Guilt made my voice tremble.
“Forget it. Nothing happened.”

“I know, I’m phoning to
apologise. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. I was upset, emotional, I’d just
finished with Geoff, and I was feeling pretty much at sixes and sevens. Let’s
just forget all about it.”

“Sure. You’re right. It was a
mistake.”

“Was it?”

There was a long pause.

“Are you sure about that, Jack?
Frankly I’m sorry I embarrassed you but I’m
not
sorry about what
happened – or rather what didn’t happen. No. I’m not sorry. Not sorry at all.”
Her voice changed to a much more serious tone. “Frankly, I’m only sorry that
nothing did happen. And believe me, I don’t think it would have been a mistake.
In fact I know it wouldn’t have been. It’s all so cut and dried for you, isn’t
it? But it’s not so easy for me.”

“Look, you just said let’s forget
about it–”

“–Sure, because I was trying to
let you off the hook. But now I realise I’ve got to tell you the truth. I meant
everything I said last week. I can’t stop thinking about you. From the moment I
saw you walking past my bed in hospital, I knew I wanted something to happen
between us. And one day it will.”

“Listen, Caroline–”

“Forget it, Jack. It’s okay, I
understand. You’re with Lucy at the moment.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

“And that’s why I’m phoning. To
warn you.”

“Warn me?”

“Tell me, how long have you known
Lucy?”

“What’s that got to do with you?”

“
How long?
”

“A few weeks. Over a month.”

“You don’t know her. I’m warning
you – Jack, you have to be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look, don’t take this the wrong
way. But I think that Lucy is dangerous.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

There was another long pause
before she spoke again. “Okay. So how do you think she’d have reacted if she’d
found us upstairs in bed together?”

“That wouldn’t have happened.
Don’t you remember? I stopped it, just before she knocked on the door–”

“
Don’t deny it
. We both
wanted to make love. Just because you’ve now changed your mind out of guilt,
and are trying to alter your memories of what happened it doesn’t change a
thing. That night you wanted me as much as I wanted you – I know you did. Isn’t
there just some part of you that wonders what would have happened if Lucy
hadn’t turned up when she did?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“
Shut up and listen!
Remember when I came face to face with Lucy in your house? Do you recollect how
shocked I was?”

“Yes, now you mention it. I
wondered why.”

“It was because when I saw Lucy I
had the feeling I already knew her. Not at the hospital, as she suggested, but
before that. That perfume she wears,
Heaven’s Dust
, it’s very rare –
hard to get hold of. I remembered smelling it somewhere before, recently. And I
remembered. I smelt it on the night when I was attacked.”

“You couldn’t have done.”

“
I did
. Lucy was there,
that night I was attacked.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“Jack, I’m sorry, but
she was
there!
I’m sure of it.”

“Based on a smell of bloody
perfume? You’re mad.”

“I’m mad, am I? Well the police
don’t think so.” I heard her sigh on the other end of the line. “Jack, I’m so
sorry, but I told the police that I smelt a woman’s perfume
Heaven’s Dust
,
just before it happened. And Lucy wears that same perfume, a perfume that’s so
rare that hardly anyone even stocks it in London, let alone Canterbury.
Besides, I have this distinct memory of seeing someone’s hand – a
woman’s
hand
. And I saw Lucy’s hand that night in your house, and I swear it was
her
hand that I saw on the night I was attacked. I noticed it because one finger
was shorter than you’d expect. Much shorter.”

“It was pitch dark and raining.
How could you possibly have seen–”

“It was
right underneath my
nose
. I saw her hand, Jack. Lucy’s left hand. With a foreshortened third
finger.”

I closed my eyes. Breathed
deeply. “Are you saying you think Lucy attacked you?”

“
I don’t know who attacked me!
The person came up behind me. I couldn’t see what was happening. I just have disparate
random, memories, nothing complete, it’s still a vague hotchpotch of
impressions. I’m sorry, Jack. I know she’s your girlfriend, but you do
understand, don’t you? I had to go to the police about it. I’m certain that
your Lucy was there on the night I was attacked. And I think she tried to kill
me.”

A sick feeling of dread terror
gripped me. I closed my eyes.

“Jack, I’m sorry. But I think
Lucy is the Bible Killer.”

*
* * *

I drove back into Canterbury and
parked, then went to a café and sat down to a cup of coffee. I was in a daze,
scared and confused, not knowing what to think. Why would Caroline think she’d
seen Lucy on the night she’d been attacked? What possible explanation could
there be?

My phone rang again and I took
the call, dreading more terrifying news.

“Hi, Jack, it’s Paul
Dangerfield.”

“Hello Paul.” I wondered why my
contact at AB Detectives was phoning me out of the blue. They’d done all the
searches I’d asked for, and, frankly I was ashamed of having consulted the firm
at all, because thinking of them reminded me of that dark time when I’d
suspected Lucy of being Megan Foster, something I wanted to forget forever.

“We had a bit of luck,” Paul
sounded breezy, excited almost. “You know that birth search you asked for? Lisa
Chilcott? Between 1970 and 1974?”

“I remember. You couldn’t find
her.”

Lisa Chilcott. The woman who’d
killed herself and, it was reliably assumed, was the alter ego of the real
Megan Foster.

“Right, but I was chatting to a
colleague this morning, and she said that if the woman died in Wales, there was
a chance she might have had a connection to Ireland – after all, the ferry goes
regularly from Fishguard, close to Swansea, to Rosslare, in Ireland. I know you
said she was most likely to be English born but, my hunches are usually worth
following. So on the off chance I put in a search and found her. Lisa Alexandra
Chilcott, born in Enniskillen, 23 February 1971. Do you think that’s the person
you’re after?”

“I don’t know.” My heart was
beating faster. Lisa Chilcott was Megan Foster. Lisa Chilcott
had to be
Megan Foster.
Because if she wasn’t
...

“Funnily enough after you told me
about the theory that someone claimed that Lisa had never been borne, that she
was the alter ego of Megan Foster, the Irish connection seemed an unlikely
possibility, but sometimes it’s the unlikely ideas that pay off. Bit of a
Sherlock Homes moment, I felt quite proud.”