Talk to Me (24 page)

‘How do you figure that?’ she spat.

God, this wasn’t going well. How did he explain? He thought the boat had sailed so he made do with second best. Telling her it was the practical option wasn’t particularly romantic.

‘Going out with Emily was a good excuse to keep seeing you and find out how serious it was with this other guy.’

‘Really?’ She stared thoughtfully out of the window, watching the woman in her hatchback next to them singing away to her music.

All the revelations of the last few hours had made him realise just how often he’d invented reasons to visit the flat. He was impressed by how devious his subconscious had been. He had been a very regular visitor.

Now it all seemed so obvious. OK, one kiss didn’t make a lifelong commitment but he couldn’t imagine life without Olivia.

They didn’t talk for a little while.

‘You could move out …’ he suggested, breaking the silence.

‘Where to,’ she said gloomily. ‘It’s my bloody flat.’

Even before he said it he wondered if it was a risk, if it was too soon to say it but hell they’d wasted so much time over the last few years. ‘To my place.’

She looked at him, her mouth dropping open into a shocked ‘o’. Then she dropped her head and muttered, ‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’ Now he’d said it, it was so obviously the right thing to do.

‘Because …’ she stopped. ‘Besides, it’s too soon.’

‘Too soon for what? You can’t stay with Emily. It’s the obvious solution. Anyway I want you there. Safe. With me.’

‘Are you sure?’ Her voice sounded choked and out of the corner of his eye he caught her blinking furiously, and then in a typical Olivia move, she lightened the moment by saying, ‘How do you know I’m not moving in just for that gorgeous kitchen? You know I’ve got oven envy.’

He smiled. ‘Sweetheart, if you know how to drive it, you’re welcome to it.’

As they came off the motorway into the heavy London traffic both of them went quiet. The prospect of facing Emily weighed heavily on him and he couldn’t imagine how Olivia felt. The lies, that letter and the two of them having to pretend. No, he definitely wasn’t looking forward to that bit.

Olivia tried to call Emily again, but her phone still kept switching to voicemail. Where was she was? Why didn’t she answer? Maybe she couldn’t.

Turning the key in the lock, I stopped reluctantly in the doorway, not wanting to go in, even though Daniel was right behind me. His hand was clasped over mine on the key in the door.

‘I’ll go first?’ he whispered.

Following him, I bent to pick up my bag, listening intently.

‘Hellooo,’ I called out, with only a tiny quaver in my voice. Having six foot plus of lean muscle and warm body with me was very reassuring.

‘Emily – are you home?’ Nothing. Just silence.

Daniel took the steps two at a time. ‘Emily, are you in?’ he called more forcefully.

Following closely, my heart was bumping uncomfortably at the same time it was expanding with pride. My hero. My very own Clark Kent. He got to the top step, which opened into the lounge. It was cold and unlit; as if no one had been here for a little while.

An empty mug was on the floor beside Friday’s
Evening Standard
along with a plate of congealing beans, a pair of boots, and two different shoes. Assorted clothes, jewellery and magazines were scattered around the room while the coffee table was strewn with empty crisp packets, biscuit crumbs and two discarded yoghurt pots.

‘Has there been a struggle here?’ said Daniel, bending down and picking up one of the shoes.

‘No, Daniel. This is standard.’

‘Really?’ He seemed surprised.

Of course Emily had made sure she’d kept her inner slob hidden whenever he came round.

‘I don’t think anyone’s here,’ he said, lowering his voice. ‘I’ll check the bedrooms.’

He looked into Emily’s room, then mine. ‘Clear,’ he said, with a more confident smile.

‘You sound like you’re in an American cop drama or something.’

‘Just as long as I’m the good-looking one and not the short fat sidekick,’ he said swaggering by, heading towards the bathroom. We were on a roll until he hit the kitchen. When I heard a muttered, ‘Shit’, I rushed in, fearing the worst, expecting to see Emily’s bloodied and bruised body spreadeagled across the floor with spatters of red up the walls. Too much watching of CSI.

I collided with Daniel as he was retreating backwards.

‘Oomph,’ I muttered into the back of his shirt. He turned, standing tall so I couldn’t see around him. My imagination carried on picturing a bloody body.

‘God, it stinks in here. The bin needs emptying.’

My height decreased by three inches as the tension left my shoulders.

The bin always needed emptying when I wasn’t around. Emily didn’t do dirty jobs. There was quite a pong; old curry cartons mixed with rotting teabags and something I couldn’t quite identify. Feeling pissed off that it was always me that had to do this, I crossed to the bin and quickly tied up the nearly overflowing black bag and dumped it outside the back door on the fire escape. I’d take it down the stairs later.

Closing the door, I crossed the floor, brushing past him deliberately to savour the bodily contact as I flicked on the kettle. He caught my arm and deliberately pulled me towards him.

‘God, woman, this is going to be torture.’

I grinned wickedly up at him. Teasingly I reached up, putting my hand to the back of his neck and pulled his head down to mine.

‘You’re just going to have to grin and bear it,’ I breathed at the corner of his mouth, stealing a quick kiss. He turned and caught my lips, turning it into a kiss of the slow lingering type. My insides quivered and when he finally lifted his head, I was left wanting more. He returned my grin with an equally naughty one of his own.

‘And you’re going to have to behave.’

‘Not fair,’ I said ruefully. ‘Bromide in the tea, I think.’

‘You started it,’ he said calmly, leaning back against the cupboards, arms folded looking smug.

I couldn’t resist a quick sneaky glance to see if he was as affected as I was. He lifted a brow. Oops not as surreptitious as I’d thought. I blushed bright red as he smirked and my stomach dropped into freefall.

All this touchy feely, shivery, quivery stuff was very well but it was a long while since I’d been to bed with someone. I didn’t have to calculate exactly how long – it was months in double digits. The thought of feeling all the hard and soft bits of his naked body up against mine had set my nerve ends tingling.

Daniel had a knowing look on his face. I could have sworn he knew exactly what was going through my head.

‘You would be so bad at poker, sweetheart.’ He grinned. I pretended to hit him, and of course he grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him. When we finally broke apart, I insisted he should go and sit in the lounge so that I could concentrate on making him a cup of tea.

‘But can you nip out and grab a pint of milk first?’ It was pointless looking in the fridge; the last bottle had been finished on Friday morning. There was no way Emily would have bought any since.

While he was out, I made the tea, then quickly unpacked my bag, putting everything away, before giving my bedroom the quick once over. Just in case.

Opening the Yellow Pages, I sat down on the opposite sofa facing Daniel who having returned with the milk, had plonked it straight down on the table in front of us. I kept my distance because I was keen to avoid the scenario where we sprang apart like scalded cats the minute we heard Emily’s key in the door.

‘Blimey, it’s big business locksmithery. There are loads listed.’ I thumbed through. ‘Police registered, contracted … that sounds good.’ Daniel opened milk and poured it into the tea.

‘Get a few quotes. They’re bound to charge extra on Sunday.’

‘Here’s one that says no call out charge. Or what about this, OAP discounts. Do the over-sixties lock themselves out regularly?’

‘Yes, if they’re anything like my gran. She had keys all over the village – she was always locking herself out.’

Emily turned up just as I was finishing my call with Locks R Us. I was dreading her rushing up to Daniel and hurling herself into his arms, but I needn’t have worried. As she rounded the top of the stairs, a guilty look slid across her face.

‘Where have you been?’ I asked hurriedly. ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone?’

‘Daniel … Olivia. What are you … doing here?’ she stuttered, hurriedly pulling her jacket back on.

I knew why. That skimpy top looked like last night’s clubbing outfit to me.

‘We’ve been so worried about you? I was imagining all—’

‘What are you on about?’ she asked defensively. ‘I was at … at Caroline’s last night.’

Her eyes didn’t meet mine, which suited me fine – my own guilt was probably plastered across my face.

‘Do you want to tell her, Olivia?’ asked Daniel looking stern.

‘It’s Peter,’ I explained. ‘He’s stalking you.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emily pulled a face, rolling her eyes at Daniel as if humouring me.

‘Here on this tape I got from Miriam, you can see Peter watching you at the premiere.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Are you absolutely sure it is him?’

‘Definitely.’

Emily’s eyes darted to Daniel.

‘I know all about it,’ he said dryly. She coloured and glared at me.

‘I hope you explained that it was all down to you,’ she snapped, her voice softening as she turned to Daniel. ‘I only went on the speed-date to keep her company – biggest mistake I ever made.’

Not, if she was with the man I suspected she’d been with last night. A certain someone she’d met at the speed-date. Someone who had access to tickets to the
Phantom of the Opera
, liked Japanese food and completed
The Times
crossword every day.

‘Emily, I’m not interested,’ said Daniel wearily. ‘There’s a much bigger issue. Peter. He looks like he’s been here. Taking things. Like your scarf.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’ve been listening to little Miss Paranoia.’ She rounded on me. ‘You lost my red scarf. Do you think I believe that? Honestly.’ She rolled her eyes at Daniel, trying to enlist his support.

‘Emily,’ I said as calmly as I could, my back teeth grating. ‘I’d show you. It’s quite clear on the video tape.’

‘How convenient. Who still uses video tapes these days?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘Emily, I promise you I’ve seen it. This guy was definitely at the premiere, watching you and wearing your red scarf.’

‘My God. That’s so creepy. How did he know I’d be there?’ Emily hugged herself and sank onto the sofa.

‘Dunno. But can you remember when the scarf went missing?’

‘It was …’ She went silent. ‘No, it couldn’t …’

‘What?’

‘You remember I lost my keys?’ Emily asked Olivia.

‘Of course I do. I rang you in a panic when I thought there was someone downstairs.’

Daniel’s head shot up. ‘You never said anything about that before.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t …’

Shit, had we just given the game away to Emily. Her face was an icy mask. Her eyes narrowed on Daniel. Trying to distract her, I said, ‘Thought you’d left them at work.’

A brief look of embarrassment crossed her face. ‘Not exactly,’ she hedged. ‘They were handed in to reception. Someone found them outside the front door of the office.’

Everything clicked into place. ‘Cara said he’d dropped your bag,’ I said, butting in. ‘He took your keys.’

‘My God. What’s he up to? Why’s he following me?’ Emily looked ashen, her breathing shallow. ‘I’m scared. What does he want?’

As if asking permission, Daniel glanced my way before going over and sitting down next to her.

‘Look, Emily,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘A locksmith’s on his way to change the locks but you need to call the police in. You have to report this.’

‘Why can’t Olivia? It’s her fault – and her cousin’s,’ said Emily, turning to him and laying her head on his shoulder. ‘What am I going to do? Oh, Daniel. I’m so glad you’re here.’

He looked up helplessly. I shrugged. An Oscar winning performance.

‘You’d have thought,’ she glared at me as if I was personally responsible, ‘that checks would have been in place to stop this sort of thing. Why didn’t you warn me, Olivia? You’ll have to phone the police. Barney’s
your
cousin.’

That’s right put all the blame on me. I don’t suppose it occurred to her that her inflammatory emails had poured oil on a troubled mind.

‘You’re the target,’ said Daniel exasperated. ‘The emails came to you and it was your computer he sabotaged. The brick was probably just random.’ His voice softened as he said this and Emily gave him a sharp considering look. ‘He wouldn’t have known whose room it was.’

Suddenly she was mutinous. ‘If we change the locks Peter can’t do anything else, can he? He’ll know we’re on to him. That’ll stop him.’

‘No, Emily. Daniel’s right. We have to call the police.’

She dismissed me. ‘Olivia, you’re over-reacting. I can’t think about this, now. I’m going to have a bath.’

‘Emily—’

‘What difference does it make if we phone later? It can wait.’ She deliberately turned her back on me.

‘Daniel,’ she said, her tone far sweeter. ‘You don’t mind if I slip off for a soak.’ After a pause she asked, ‘Are you … erm, staying?’

‘Actually, we need to talk,’ he said ominously. My heart skipped, which was wrong of me but she deserved what was coming. I doubted she’d be too bothered, all the signs were that she’d got Daniel’s successor lined up. Then again, she never liked to lose face.

Her fleeting look of worry was quickly replaced by a cocky, knowing look. ‘Anyone want a glass of wine? I think I’m going to need one.’ Before either of us could answer, she wheeled around and tripped off to the kitchen as my phone beeped announcing a text message.

As I read it anxiously, Daniel studied my face.

‘Not Kate,’ I said despondently looking up, rolling my head back and kneading my left shoulder which was full of knots. ‘Why hasn’t she got in touch yet?’

‘Try not to worry. It’s still the middle of the night there.’ He stepped towards me and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

From the kitchen we heard a bad tempered bang as Emily slammed a cupboard door closed.

I withdrew my hand and pulled a face at Daniel. ‘I’m going to hide in my room,’ I whispered taking my cue for a diplomatic retreat.

‘Can I come too?’ he whispered.

‘Daniel.’ I tried to be stern but I couldn’t help smiling at him, he was doing a puppy dog look. ‘Are you a man or a mouse?’

‘Definitely—’

Suddenly there was a piercing scream. A cry of such terror that it punched straight through to the nervous system. We both reacted in the same way, running panic-stricken to the kitchen.

An overpowering smell hit us, a rotten, stomach turning stench that made me physically recoil.

Emily was standing in front of the open fridge, gripping the edge of the door. Her eyes fixed on something inside.

Daniel took hold of her, peeling her fingers away from the door and deliberately manhandling her so she could no longer see what was so terrifying. Clinging to him, she burst into noisy heaving sobs, her shoulders shaking. I hovered uncertainly, my stomach heaving as the sweet, bitter smell permeated my lungs. It was the worst thing I’d ever smelt in my life.

‘Hey, it’s all right. It’s all right. We’re here,’ he soothed, awkwardly rubbing her back.

‘Cat. Downstairs. Cat,’ she moaned.

What was she talking about? I couldn’t make out the words. All I could see was her white face, screwed up in terror and her throat swallowing furiously as if she might gag at any second. I was trying not to breathe through my nose. Daniel passed Emily out of the way and towards me so that he could get to the fridge properly. She was soft and pliable, as if all her bones had been removed and it felt as if she might slip through my arms at any second.

Even though he’d steeled himself, Daniel’s flinch said it all. His face paled as he closed the door firmly. His mouth turning down at the corners.

‘Don’t look, Olivia, it’s not nice.’ Judging from the smell, that was an understatement.

‘What is it?’ I breathed, my arm around Emily, holding on tight to keep her upright, every muscle bunched with tension. She’d started to cry and her teeth were chattering. She was slipping into shock.

‘Dead cat,’ he said tersely. ‘The junk shop cat. Now’s the time to phone the police.’