Too Close For Comfort (40 page)

‘I think we should call Ged,’ I said.

‘No!’ said the two of them, in unison. The union gave Kimberley confidence. She handcuffed Lysette’s upper arm with a pinching grip.

‘Come on, let’s go back upstairs. This will all feel better once you’ve got some sleep. You’re still in shock from’ – she cast me a look of pure disgust
– ‘from her betrayal.’

‘I didn’t say those things,’ I said, pleading myself now. ‘You’ve got to believe that. If anyone knows how to manipulate this situation it’s her! Don’t
trust her.’

Lysette slammed her hands down hard on the granite counter. When she spoke, her words suddenly sounded clear, definitive.

‘Stop it, OK? Both of you.’ She looked at me. ‘I need – I need to show you something. I can’t keep hold of it any more. You’re the only one who might
understand it.’

*

Lysette’s battered Fiat Punto was stowed in Kimberley’s garage. Kimberley was still loudly complaining as Lysette aimed her key at the boot with a shaking hand.

‘I don’t know what you think you’re doing,’ she said, her shrill voice like a blade. ‘Don’t encourage her to hang around here. She’s on her way back to
London. Have you forgotten what you woke up to this morning?’

Lysette ignored her. I should’ve been triumphant at this fact, but there was something almost robotic – trance-like – about her movements. The boot sprang open: she crossed to
it and slowly peeled back the rubber floor. There, underneath, was a red leather book. She handed it to me, solemn.

‘What is that?’ demanded Kimberley, ponytail flying through the air like a weapon as she looked between us. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

Lysette’s words had that sticky quality again, like they couldn’t quite separate from each other. ‘Sarah’s diary,’ she said. She gave a half-sob. ‘I want you
to read it.’

It felt heavy in my hands. ‘How did you get it?’

‘Just read it, OK? I can’t . . .’

She gave way to a proper, juddering sob. I put my arm around her.

‘Let’s go inside.’

‘Absolutely not!’ said Kimberley. ‘You don’t set foot in my house.’

I wanted to whisk her away, but Kimberley was too dangerous to leave to her own devices. Besides, Lysette was in no fit state to travel. She’d crumpled to the floor by now, the back of her
head leaning against the car’s bumper. I felt that deep unease again, that sense that something was badly wrong with her.

‘Seriously?’ I said to Kimberley. ‘Look at her, there’s something not right.’ She’d folded her arms across her chest, was staring at both of us like we were a
pair of guttersnipes.

‘I’m fine, Mia, stop fussing,’ said Lysette, waving a hand at me. It looped unsteadily through the air, then gripped the diary. She opened it. ‘Please!’

I sat down on the grimy garage floor. ‘Fine.’

Our bodies were pushed up together on the ground. Lysette pushing the book towards me, opening it at a specific page. There was an odd, unexpected comfort in the midst of this darkness. I could
feel her bodily warmth, that familiar closeness that I now knew had been in hiding, not extinguished.

Kimberley was still hovering above us, refusing to back away. I looked down at the slanting writing, my body prickling with vulnerability.

I settled myself on the hard ground as best I could, and began to read.

I’d nearly finished now. Lysette had only directed me to a few of the entries, and I’d barely spoken as I’d read them. I’d been trying to tune out
Kimberley, who was jabbing at the pages, providing her own commentary. We were at the last one, written less than a month before her death.

June 30th 2015

I can’t believe it happened. The one thing I knew for certain about myself was that I was a good mum. Now I don’t even have that to keep me
sane.

I can’t believe I let it happen. Lysette kept saying it wasn’t my fault, they all did, but I knew it was. Kimberley was making out she was being kind, but she just
wanted it to go away, for me to shut up and forget about it. She’d thrown money at the problem and I was supposed to be grateful. So was Susan.

I’ll never forget. I promise you that, Max, I’ll never forget. I’ll be a new mummy.

He let me cry and cry outside the hospital. He held me tight, those muscly arms wrapped around me, and my tears soaked through his T-shirt. It’s different now. It HAS
started now. I wanted to tell him that, but it would have hurt him too much. Or maybe it was me I was protecting – maybe I was scared of what it would mean if he took it right inside his big
heart.

At least it’s made me stop obsessing about her. I didn’t think about her at all the rest of the week. When I’m not thinking about Max, all I can think about
is him.

Feels good to write that. All I can think about is him.

Later I lay in his arms, and we both cried. I was in my bra and pants, like I was fourteen years old. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, making my hair wet with his tears,
‘I love you no matter what.’ The way he talks – like a book of poems. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t really. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered, but I don’t
know if he even heard.

I had to go then, but I couldn’t tell him where. I wanted to, I really did. I haven’t got all the money, and it’s not like another fucking late credit card
payment. Thing is, I know he’d insist on helping. He’d sell his stuff, he’d find a night job. And I can’t take any more from him.

I’m Sorry. Next time I tell him, I’m going to have to make sure he hears me.

Tears streamed down Lysette’s ravaged face. ‘She couldn’t talk to me,’ she said. ‘Maybe if she’d talked to me we could’ve sorted it
out.’ She looked at me, pleading. ‘Do you think she was shagging him all the time?’

My eyes rolled upwards towards Kimberley, my heart beating a swift tattoo in my chest. When I’d accused her in the kitchen I’d only half meant it, but now I’d read
Sarah’s words, the sense we were trapped here, behind her high iron gates, was becoming increasingly frightening. Surely Lori would reappear with the children soon?

‘No, of course she wasn’t!’ snapped Kimberley. ‘She was pining after him, and stalking me. She says it there – she was parked outside my home. She was a very
disturbed young woman.’ She gave a theatrical shudder. ‘I’ve told people again and again how unsafe I felt.’

I jumped to my feet, whipped around to face her. I needed to stay strong. ‘Can you – just for five minutes – stop talking about yourself?’I turned my attention back to
Lysette. ‘How did you get the diary? Did she give it to you?’

If she had done – if she’d been preparing to leave this earth – then it would change everything. I almost wanted her to say yes – for there to be a possibility it was a
tragedy instead of an act of evil – but she was shaking her head in shame.

‘I picked up Max the day it happened. I knew where she kept it, right at the back of her wardrobe.’

‘How come?’ I asked.

‘She told me, she said she was frightened of Joshua reading it. She said he had a temper, but no one else ever saw it.’

It was an odd, teenage hiding place if she really didn’t want him to see it. Were the words she’d written between the pages a desperate bid for his attention as much as anything?

‘You
took
it?’ said Kimberley, her voice flipping upwards. ‘Wow.’ I knew she was deliberately making Lysette feel worse, but the fact was that
she had removed and concealed key evidence – her prospects with the police were looking increasingly grim. I felt sick at the memory of Krall’s ferocious determination to use her
culpability to get what he wanted.

Lysette crumpled further towards the floor, her words slipping and slurring again. ‘She said . . . she said to me once that she was terrified of him when he got really
angry. And . . .’ She turned an intense gaze upwards towards Kimberley. ‘We didn’t know what was in there, did we?’

A twisting darkness crossed Kimberley’s face, like one of those incoming tornadoes that are so severe and specific that they get their very own name. In that moment I couldn’t
remember why I’d ever found her beautiful.

‘So she was terrified of him?’ I asked. It kind of tallied now I’d read her description of their relationship. There was something incredibly bleak, incredibly distant about
Joshua. His smiles – rare and fleeting – were like winter.

‘She only said it a couple of times,’ said Lysette. ‘Other times she’d talk about him like he was completely amazing. Like they were dating, or something.’

My brain was whirring. ‘Did you read it as soon as you had it? Can you fill in the blanks in what she’s writing?’

Lysette gave a sob. ‘No. I only read it today, I didn’t want to be another person who betrayed her.’ I saw that sense of shame creep back through her. ‘And if I
didn’t know what it said, then I didn’t have to worry about it.’

‘All it does is confirm the truth . . .’ Self-doubt was creeping into Kimberley’s haughty tone, the fear that she’d no longer be able to control the
narrative. ‘That Peter was obsessed with me, and that he was also a terrifying predator. That . . .’

She saw something in my face that silenced her.

‘No, it doesn’t!’ I shouted. ‘She was frightened of Joshua finding it – we know that. So she says “him” the whole time, keeps it deniable. Well, what if
“him” is two people?’ It had been percolating all the time I’d been reading, but now the truth was fully emerging. ‘Peter is one “him”, but the
“him” she’s really craving and can’t have, that’s Joshua.’

Kimberley rolled her eyes. ‘Joshua was her husband, Mia.’

‘You of all people should know marriage isn’t perfect,’ I said. I was spooling back through what Jennifer said, how Peter had been pining for Sarah, never getting what he
wanted. ‘I bet she was in her bra and pants with
Peter
, not with Joshua,’ I said. ‘She couldn’t go through with having sex. Betraying her
husband.’

Marriage isn’t perfect
– I was actually parroting a phrase I’d heard from Joshua, his eyes cold and dark as he’d uttered it. I thought too about
the text he’d sent me that morning – ‘You disgust me’ – it was so stark, so brutal. Poor Sarah. I’ve seen it so many times, the kind of abuse that leaves no
visible scars but does devastating damage. Had that loud, bubbly persona been a way to hide the low self-esteem that was keeping her trapped?

I kept going. ‘What if
he
was the one having an affair . . .’

‘Is this another chance for you to air your ridiculous suggestion that I killed her?’

I ignored Kimberley, dropped to my knees on the grimy, uncomfortable floor so that I was at eye level with Lysette.

‘Lys, do you think it’s possible Joshua was cheating on her? Is that what she’s writing about?’

Lysette looked shamefaced.

‘I told her she was being paranoid. But she wasn’t, was she?’ Lysette looked up towards Kimberley, who was determinedly refusing to make eye contact. ‘Lisa. She thought
he was still in love with her.’

‘Lisa?’ I gasped.

Suddenly it was all starting to click into place. The motherly frustration she displayed with Max, like he was her wayward third. Even the way she said Joshua’s name, the three syllables
like a melody. It was frustrated love that she was singing about.

‘Oh my God,’ said Lysette, ‘she was right! And then, what happened with Max . . .’ Lysette started to sob. ‘She had such a terrible time, and then
she died!’

‘You don’t know they were having an affair,’ snapped Kimberley. ‘There’s no proof.’

I needed to keep Lysette focused. I put an arm around her heaving shoulders.

‘What did happen with Max?’ I asked, urgent. ‘You can tell me, Lys.’

Kimberley was riled now. ‘Don’t answer her!’

Lysette leant backwards, twisted her head so she could look at me. There was a strange kind of serenity about her, the relief of knowing it was time to unburden herself.

Her voice was a whisper. ‘He swallowed a pill. We thought he was asleep upstairs.’ She pointed a shaky hand towards the house. ‘But he came down, and took it out of her
handbag. Susan pretended he was her son at A and E, and we got him out before social services could get involved. Peter helped us.’

I felt a wave of sickness wash over me: little Max. My God, how must Sarah have felt? How could you live with that knowledge?

‘So he took an E, or something, from her purse? Lys, the police think she was dealing drugs, and that you were involved.’

Kimberley grabbed my shoulder so hard that it felt like a punch.

‘I know how you do this, the way you wheedle information out of people. This isn’t your business. She needs a lawyer if she’s going to talk, and she certainly doesn’t
need to talk to you.’

I flung my arms back violently, still focused on Lysette. ‘Get off me. Why don’t you do something useful and get her some water?’

Lysette’s voice shook with fear. ‘It wasn’t dealing! It was just – something fun on a Friday night. You know – well, you don’t, but – a few lines, a few
drinks. It was meant to be harmless.’

Now Kimberley wanted out – deniability had always been her saving grace. As she set off towards the house, Lysette continued, vomiting up words in her desperation to get them out.

‘And yeah, we were the ones who picked it up, and we did make a few quid here and there. Like nothing real, just a bit of money for clothes.’ Her face had that pleading quality that
broke my heart, like she was hoping I could take it all away. ‘I know it sounds awful, but I never have any cash. And, look at this . . .’

She gestured towards the massive house that loomed over us. How naive I was, the first time I came here, to think that the disparity didn’t sting. I didn’t care about my professional
responsibilities, my legal responsibilities – any of it. I just wanted to protect my friend. She’d made a monumental fuck-up, but she’d never wanted to hurt anyone.

‘Is that why she was in the car park?’