The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 22

  Ruby is right. George needs to know, although Amber doesn’t appreciate the threats. Did Lewis confess, or did the police tell her?

  Amber walks past the rows of Edwardian terraces, which look identical in the darkness, turning left, then right, then back the way she came, lost in a maze of her own thoughts. She cannot keep the fantasy that she’s carrying Mabel alive. Her arms are empty; it’s only her own heart that she can feel beating. As she meanders through the ghostly grid of streets, the memories of that night with Lewis walk by her side, pulling at her coat for attention.

  It all started with Amber and George having a bust-up – they happened very rarely but when they did, they were huge. This time it was about making a baby, or trying to. They still hadn’t conceived and Amber dared to suggest, very gently, that they see a doctor together. George took huge offence, claiming it was Amber’s anxiety that was preventing her getting pregnant, not any lack of virility on his part.

  ‘All I’m saying is we get some tests,’ she said. ‘Then at least we’ll know if there’s a medical reason.’

  ‘I don’t need a test,’ he retorted. ‘I know there’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘How?’ she pressed. ‘How do you know?’

  His face darkened. ‘I just do, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh! So how many babies have you fathered to date then?’ she said sarcastically. ‘Please tell me, I’d be very interested to know.’

  He rounded on her then. ‘What about that time you got pregnant when we were seventeen, remember?’

  Of course she remembered; it had been a scary time for both of them. ‘We never knew for sure I was pregnant,’ she reminded him. ‘I think it was probably just a late period.’

  ‘That’s not how you reacted at the time. You told me you’d had a miscarriage. You made a great song-and-dance about it.’

  ‘I panicked. I didn’t want a baby back then – we were too young.’

  ‘But you want one now and don’t care what you have to do get it,’ he riposted, the tone of his voice venomous. The conversation developed into a bitter shouting match. She packed an overnight bag, flounced out of the flat and caught a cab to Ruby’s place. It was the first time she’d done such a thing, and she was so angry and upset she didn’t think to call ahead. Usually she preferred not to reveal any vulnerability to her little sister, and she wasn’t in the habit of confiding in her, especially not about problems with George. But that night, she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go.

  ‘She’s not here,’ said Lewis when he answered the entryphone. ‘She’s having a night away with the girls.’

  ‘Oh …’ Her heart sank. ‘I didn’t realise. Sorry to bother you.’

  He heard the desperation in her voice and invited her in, took her coat and bag and told her to sit down. When he offered her a glass of wine, she almost snatched it out of his hands.

  ‘Sorry to barge in on you like this,’ she said, holding out the glass for a top-up.

  ‘It’s okay.’ He passed her the bottle. ‘Help yourself.’ When they finished the wine, they started on the gin. Then he rolled a spliff.

  Amber didn’t really know Lewis. He was Ruby’s boyfriend, that was about it. She didn’t even know Ruby that well, their relationship still in the early stages of rehabilitation. They’d met up socially as a foursome a few times, but it hadn’t been successful and they’d tacitly agreed not to continue. But now, as she lolled on the sofa getting pissed and high, Amber decided she really liked Lewis. He was very laid-back, unlike George. And he was a good listener, unlike George. He wasn’t quite up to George’s level of attractiveness, but he had a kind, open face. And when she broke down in tears, he held her in his arms and told her it was okay to cry. He wiped her tears away and kissed her gently on the forehead, then on both cheeks. An electrical surge went through her body as their lips brushed. She opened her mouth for him, and from there it was a short walk to the bedroom.

  They tore off each other’s clothes like they were in a movie and had sex on top of the bed covers. Later, when Amber replayed the scene in her head, she redirected it with Lewis leading the action, but in truth she was the one who pulled him into her, clamping her legs around his thighs so he couldn’t get away. They didn’t speak a word until it was all over and they were lying on their backs, naked and sweaty, panting for breath.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she murmured eventually.

  He sighed. ‘That was amazing.’

  ‘Hmm … amazing and very, very wrong.’

  ‘That’s why,’ he said. ‘Forbidden fruit …’ He ran his finger over her stomach and her insides rippled in response.

  ‘We mustn’t tell them. And we mustn’t do it again. Ever.’

  ‘A one-off,’ he replied, kissing her neck and breasts. ‘Our secret.’

  ‘I love my husband.’

  ‘I love your sister.’

  ‘This doesn’t change anything.’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  But it changed everything. Forever. At the time she’d felt like a sex goddess, but three weeks later, when she discovered she was pregnant, her true motivation became clear.

  Had Lewis known it too? Had her confession that George was shooting blanks inspired him to show what a real man could do? Lewis despised George – he felt belittled and patronised by him. Had fathering ‘his’ child been an act of spite, or even revenge? Or had they both just drunk and smoked too much that night? Amber didn’t dare to unpack it. She felt frightened and yet triumphant. The long wait for a baby was over. She was thrilled, George was thrilled. Ruby was over the moon at the prospect of becoming an aunt, and her mother broke out in a rash of knitting.

  And what about Lewis? He played it very cool, never asked Amber if the baby was his, and once she was born, never looked at her longingly or asked to hold her. He behaved as if he’d done her a small favour and didn’t need recognition or thanks. His attitude allowed her to feel safe, to pretend – even to believe – that George was the biological father after all. The identity of the sperm giver didn’t matter; it was being a dad that counted, and George would be the best father in the world.

  Now the balloon has gone up. Ruby is beyond angry with Amber, and no doubt with Lewis too. That’s three out of four of them who know, plus the entire bloody investigation team. George can’t be the only one left in ignorance. She won’t let him find out from Ruby; she’ll tell him this morning, before the FLO turns up. It’ll be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do in her life.

  Amber walks slowly back to the house. Her fingers are as cold as crab sticks and the tip of her nose is frozen. As she puts the key in the front door, another shiver runs through her. It’s as if Mabel’s abductor is standing there now, watching her from the shadows of the trees. She hears a sound like fabric rustling, and turns around quickly, peering into the gloom.

  ‘Who are you?’ she says. But it’s only the lilac ribbons, flapping in the breeze.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Day Eight without Mabel

  Ruby stops at the red lights on the brow of the hill, panting for breath. She’s been cycling around for hours in an attempt to burn off her anger, but it hasn’t worked. Her insides are still bubbling like a witch’s cauldron – eye of jealousy, toe of humiliation … The intensity of her emotion is disturbing; she’s never experienced anything like it before.

  The lights change to green and she sets off again, finding it hard to concentrate on the road. Her head is crowded with sickening images: Lewis and Amber’s naked bodies entwined in a mocking embrace; having hot, steamy sex in her bed, up against the wardrobe, on the sitting room rug, under the shower, sprawled over the kitchen table …

  Her vision blurs with tears. This is no good. She needs to slow down and pay attention to the traffic before she has an accident.

  Just as the images repeat, so do the internal arguments. It makes no difference to her that the pair of them were wasted, or that Amber allegedly threw herself at Lewis. She doesn’t buy the excuse that his sex
ual hardwiring entangled him and he was too weak to break free. The man’s a grown-up, in his thirties. It wasn’t as if he was drugged and raped; he was a willing participant.

  She cycles on. Her leg muscles ache with effort, yet she can’t stop. He must have been attracted to her, she thinks – surprising because she and Amber are physically so unalike – although knowing Lewis, it was probably the violation of a taboo that really got him fired up. And he would have seen it as a way of getting one over on George, whom he despises. It’s true, her brother-in-law is a bit of a tosser, but he didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

  As for what was going on in Amber’s head … Ruby just doesn’t understand. It’s so out of character. Her sister is conventional to the point of dull, and a dedicated law-abider with high moral values. She’s usually the first to throw the stone of disapproval at people who cheat on their partners. What’s more, she’s been besotted with George since she was a teenager and has never shown the slightest interest in anyone else. She couldn’t wait to get married and be Mrs Walker. Ruby always assumed that George was Amber’s one and only love, but clearly that’s not true. Maybe she’s been putting it about for years. Ruby would be the first to say that she and Amber aren’t close, but now she realises she doesn’t know her sister at all. She might as well be a stranger. That discovery in itself makes her feel very alone.

  The lack of care and love that’s been shown to her – by both of them – is shocking. And the fact that sweet, beautiful Mabel is the product of such a disgustingly selfish act twists the knife in deep.

  As Ruby weaves in and out of the light Sunday-morning traffic, she starts to feel panicky. No wonder the police suspect her – casting her in the role of betrayed lover and vengeful sister. Now it makes sense. What if Mabel was killed? If they find her body, Ruby’s DNA will be all over it. She had the opportunity and the motive – she could be convicted of murder. She starts to shake and the bike wobbles, almost sending her into a parked car. She pulls up sharply and stands for a few moments with one foot on the kerb, breathless and furious and scared.

  To her surprise, her surroundings look familiar. She thought she was cycling with no sense of a destination, taking random turns, even going round in circles. But now she sees – like a homing pigeon – that she’s been gradually heading towards Mum’s place, the house where she grew up. Has she ridden here by instinct, looking for refuge and comfort, a shoulder to cry on? It seems unlikely. Normally Ruby would never go to her mother in times of trouble, fearing that any heart-to-heart would end in that well-worn phrase, ‘Well, dear, you’ve only yourself to blame.’ But this time, there’s no blame that can be attached. She’s entirely the victim.

  Taking out her phone, she sees that it’s just gone eight o’clock. Early, but not too early to call. She doubts Mum has been sleeping anyway. None of them have had any sleep since Mabel’s disappearance. She pushes off and makes a U-turn, then hangs left.

  But as she pedals with a revived sense of purpose, a new emotion starts to course through her veins: an ugly triumphalism. The instinct that drove her to her childhood home was born not out of a need for sympathy, but a desire to redress an ancient imbalance. She’s going to tell her mother just how appallingly her favourite daughter has behaved.

  She turns into Faversham Road and starts climbing the hill. Lactic acid burns through her muscles, but she presses on until she reaches the top. The street is Sunday-morning sleepy – curtains drawn, cars resting in the driveways. Now that Amber and George have gone back to number 74, the media circus has left town and her path to the front door is clear. Ruby dismounts, removes her helmet and tucks the bike behind the wheelie bins. She doesn’t bother to lock up – it should be safe here, for a while at least.

  Ringing the doorbell, she steps back and waits. After a few seconds, the front-room curtains twitch and her mother’s wan face peers out. She frowns when she sees her daughter and immediately withdraws. Ruby taps her foot impatiently. Is she going to be allowed in or what?

  Just as she’s about to give up, the door opens. Her mother is still in her dressing gown, her naked face lined and drawn, her short hair poking up at odd angles from a restless night. Ruby’s never seen her look so old or vulnerable.

  ‘What do you want?’ she says, standing sentry with her hand firmly around the door frame.

  ‘I need to talk to you. It’s important.’

  Her mother casts her a withering look. ‘I think we’ve said all there is to say.’ She starts to close the door, but Ruby rushes up the steps and puts her boot in the way.

  ‘George isn’t Mabel’s father,’ she blurts out.

  Her mother gasps. ‘What? How dare you?’

  ‘It’s true, Mum. And there’s more. Do you want me to shout it out to the neighbours, or are you going to let me in?’

  ‘I can’t believe Amber would do such a terrible thing,’ her mother says for what must be the fifth time. They are sitting in the lounge, keeping a physical and emotional distance. Ruby draws up her knees and wedges herself into the armchair, while Vicky pulls her dressing gown tightly across her chest and folds her arms.

  ‘Yeah, I agree it’s not like her, but it’s true. She can’t deny it, the DNA evidence is there.’ Ruby gestures towards the landline phone sitting on its base. ‘Ask her yourself.’

  Vicky waves the idea away. ‘Poor George … Does he know?’

  ‘I’ve told Amber to tell him today, otherwise I will.’

  Mum shakes her head. ‘No, that’s not a good idea, Ruby. It’s their business. Keep out of it, don’t get involved.’

  ‘But I am involved! Amber cheated with my boyfriend, remember!’

  ‘Hmm, I expect he instigated it.’ Mum pulls a face as if an unpleasant taste has just popped into her mouth. ‘I never liked him much, if I’m honest. Always seemed rather a dodgy character, untrustworthy. Not Amber’s type at all.’

  ‘But my type, obviously,’ Ruby retorts. ‘Charming. And don’t let Amber off the hook. She wasn’t some blushing virgin; they’re equally to blame.’

  Her mother pauses for a few moments, deep in thought. She frowns and pushes out her bottom lip. ‘Ruby …’ she says at last. ‘Do you think it’s all connected?’

  ‘To Mabel’s disappearance?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, if Lewis is Mabel’s father …’

  ‘He didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘How do you know for sure?’

  Ruby hesitates. Yes, how does she know? Less than twenty-four hours ago she would have bet her life on his innocence, but now she realises she doesn’t know him any better than she knows Amber. He cheated on her with her own sister; what else might he be capable of? But it doesn’t make sense. The chronology’s all wrong. Lewis didn’t know he definitely was Mabel’s biological father until after she was taken. Unless he’s lying about that too …

  ‘You’re right, Mum, I don’t know anything any more.’ A surge of fatigue suddenly overwhelms her and she screws her fists into her eye sockets. ‘The world’s turned upside down. Mabel is still missing and the police don’t seem to have a clue about who took her or what they did with her. It seems it was some random person who stole the door key, but we don’t know for sure.’

  ‘It wasn’t random,’ Vicky says firmly. ‘It’s connected, it’s got to be.’

  ‘That’s what the police think,’ says Ruby. ‘They think it was me, but it wasn’t, Mum, honestly it wasn’t. I would never—’

  ‘I know, love,’ her mother replies in a rare moment of tenderness. ‘You love Mabel, that’s obvious to anyone.’

  ‘I do. I love her like she’s my own. If she doesn’t come back, I’ll never forgive myself, you know that. If she turns out to be dead, I don’t want to be alive.’

  ‘Hush now, let’s not talk like that. We have to be positive. I’m not saying Lewis harmed her, but I know the two things are connected. They have to be.’ She clasps her fingers together and lets out a long, anxious breath. ‘Even before
this, I was worried about Amber. I thought it was just postnatal depression, but I can see now it was more than that. She’s been racked with guilt, terrified of George finding out. And I have a feeling she’s not telling the whole truth either.’

  Ruby shrugs. ‘I’m so tired. I just want Mabel back, that’s all I really care about. Lewis and I are dead in the water, and right now I’d like to kill Amber. I don’t want to see either of them ever again. But if we get Mabel back safely, none of it will matter, we’ll all be so happy nobody will give a shit about whose child she is. Maybe not even George.’

  ‘Hmm … I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’ Vicky looks uneasily towards the window, as if somebody might be spying on them. ‘He’s a very proud man. He won’t take this lying down.’

  ‘I still don’t get why Amber cheated on him. Unless it was to get at me. Does she hate me or something?’

  ‘It was Lewis, he seduced her. She found she was pregnant and didn’t know what to do, but decided to keep the baby. It must have been agonising …’

  ‘That’s bollocks, Mum.’ Ruby uncurls herself and gets up. ‘You’re always the same. Nothing is ever Amber’s fault. It makes me sick.’

  Vicky’s eyes flare with anger. ‘Oh stop it, for God’s sake. The poor girl has lost her child!’

  ‘I know, I know, it’s awful.’ Ruby feels the tears welling up. ‘But can’t you have some sympathy for me too?’

  ‘Mabel was taken on your watch,’ she replies tersely. ‘She was an innocent child and you let her down. I won’t forgive you for that, and I’m sure you’ll never forgive yourself.’

  ‘Okay, fine. Pile on the guilt and blame like you always do.’ Ruby grabs her jacket. ‘I just wanted you to know that instead of one shit daughter, you have two. Hmm … I wonder whose fault that is?’