The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 4

  ‘Whatever you want, it’s fine. We’ll just chill,’ he says accepting defeat – for now at least, she thinks. He unzips his overnight case and takes out his shirt, flapping out the creases before putting it on a hanger. Then he takes his toilet bag into the shower room and closes the door behind him.

  Amber waits until she hears the shower going, then sits up and makes a call on her phone.

  ‘Hi,’ says Seth. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘In the hotel room,’ she whispers. ‘He’s taking a shower – I haven’t got long.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  ‘Really badly. I don’t think I can do this.’

  ‘Yes you can. Try to relax. Enjoy the break.’

  ‘But it feels so false. All this lying and pretending, I hate it, it’s sending me mad.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling. I wish I could help.’

  ‘You do help. All the time. If I couldn’t speak to you, I don’t know what I’d do.’ The sound of the shower stops and she glances anxiously at the door. ‘He got cross with me for texting Ruby, tried to take my phone off me. I was terrified he’d find our texts.’

  ‘You should delete them.’

  ‘I know, but sometimes I forget … Oh, this is awful. He’s being so sweet and understanding, you wouldn’t believe it. I know it’s only because he wants sex, but it makes me feel so guilty.’

  There’s a short pause. ‘Surely he’ll respect you if you say no.’

  ‘Yes, of course, he won’t force me … it’s not that.’

  ‘What is it, then?’

  The door of the en suite opens and George emerges, naked but for a towel around his waist. Amber quickly switches tone. ‘Yeah, thanks for calling. Sorry, got to go now. Stay in touch.’ She puts down the phone, turns to her husband and heaves a theatrical sigh. ‘Huh! So much for my nap – couldn’t get rid of her.’

  ‘Who was it?’ he asks, removing the towel and drying himself all over.

  ‘Oh, just Polly. Wanting to know why I haven’t been to any mums’ meet-ups recently.’

  He stands naked before her, his skin glistening, smelling of expensive products. She senses a tingling deep within her, in a place she can’t reach, a feeling so unfamiliar she no longer recognises it as desire.

  ‘And?’ he says.

  ‘And what?’

  ‘Why haven’t you been? To the meet-ups.’

  Amber feels her cheeks turning pink. ‘It’s boring,’ she says as he approaches. ‘All they ever talk about is babies.’

  ‘Even so … better than being on your own all day.’

  ‘I guess.’ She brightens her face. ‘Shall we go downstairs and have afternoon tea? I suppose I could manage a little bit of cake.’

  Chapter Six

  The weekend before

  Ruby is worn out, even though she’s only been looking after Mabel for seven hours and the little darling was asleep for two of them. They’ve done tummy time (which Mabel hated) and sitting-up practice. They’ve lain on their backs on the play mat and fully explored the Sea World Activity Gym – rattling the octopus’s tentacles, squeezing the squeaky puffer fish and tinkling the tails of the seahorses. She’s sung ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ – altering ‘little boy’ to ‘little girl’ for the sake of gender equality – a million times over and made up scurrilous new verses to ‘Wheels on the Bus’. She’s pulled funny faces and made silly noises until her head aches, and yet still Mabel seems dissatisfied. She wants more attention, more giggles, more entertainment, more FUN. When Ruby puts her in her bouncing chair while she opens a much-needed bottle of beer, Mabel snarls and kicks her fat little legs in protest.

  ‘Jesus, kid, give me a break.’ She leans against the kitchen counter as she swigs back the cool lager. Is this what it’s like all the time? If so, no wonder Amber’s at breaking point. Feeling sympathetic towards her sister – rather than slightly envious – is an unfamiliar sensation.

  The six-year age gap between them has always made it difficult for them to connect. Growing up, they were at very different – and sometimes incompatible – stages of their lives. To begin with, Amber was keen to mother baby Ruby, but eventually grew tired of that game and wished she could go back to being an only child. In contrast, Ruby adored her big sister. She followed her around like a faithful puppy, copying her every move, trying to be part of the gang. Amber and her mates soon realised that a little squirt like Ruby could have her uses. She hunted for lost balls, brought cans from the fridge, raided the biscuit tin and ran whatever other errands they could think of. Whenever she got in trouble for losing or breaking things – which was often – Amber never spoke up for her and always took their mother’s side in arguments.

  Ruby strokes Mabel’s wispy auburn curls and thinks back to when Amber started going out with Gorgeous George, as he was known. Half the sixth form had a crush on him, girls and boys. He was a sports jock: captain of the football and cricket teams, county-level javelin thrower, the fastest swimmer in the school. He was the brawn and Amber the brains. They became the school power couple – attractive, bright, destined for glittering success.

  George always came round to their house after school. Mum worked late, so between four o’clock and seven, Amber was in charge. She resented having to babysit so felt it only fair that Ruby slaved for her and George in return. She commandeered the lounge, switching off Ruby’s favourite TV programmes so she and George could play video games. Ruby was made to bring them drinks and snacks before being banished to her room, leaving them to snog and grope on the sofa.

  When they left school, Amber with a clutch of A grades and George with more modest results, their relationship grew deeper and stronger, despite them going to different universities a hundred miles away from each other. Amber studied English while George did sports science. They spent all their free time together. Amber hardly ever came home in the holidays and the connection between the sisters, fragile as it was, fractured completely. She wasn’t around to support Ruby through boyfriend crises, exam stress or various struggles with identity and self-confidence, though by then Ruby had long given up expecting it.

  It was only in the last few years – finding themselves living a few miles apart by accident – that they’d really got to know each other. They had entirely different personalities but discovered they had more in common than they realised – dealing with the same difficult mother being one of them. Ruby was thrilled when she learned she was going to be an auntie. They went shopping together for baby clothes and nursery furniture.

  But after Mabel’s birth, the dynamic between them changed yet again. Now, for the first time in their sisterly history, Ruby is in control and Amber is the weak and needy one.

  ‘What went wrong, Mabel?’ Ruby asks, pulling the child onto her lap. ‘Are you going to tell me, or am I going to have find out all by myself?’

  It’s half-six, not even dawn, when Ruby wakes, dragged out of a rather delicious dream by a noise she can’t place. A kind of high-pitched wailing. A fox, perhaps, or a seagull? It sounds animal-like. Nor can she immediately work out where she is. She rubs her eyes and her lids slowly unstick. Lifting her head, she looks blearily around her. Oh yes … of course. She’s at Amber’s flat, sleeping in the marital bed on the top floor. Babysitting while Amber and George—

  Oh God, that’s what the noise is!

  She leaps clumsily out of bed and pulls a jumper on over her pyjamas. Shit … shit … She pounds downstairs and bursts into what Amber calls the nursery. Mabel is lying on her back, screaming hysterically. Rushing over to the cot, Ruby picks her up and holds her tightly, stroking her hair and kissing her sweaty red cheeks.

  ‘I’m sorry, my little one, so so sorry,’ she soothes, rocking her from side to side. ‘You poor little darling. How long have you been crying? Bad Auntie Ruby for not hearing you.’

  Mabel seems momentarily comforted, then picks up from where she left off, her shrieks penetrating Ruby’s eardrums and no doubt the bedroom walls.

  ‘
No, no, please don’t cry, you’ll wake the neighbours. I know you’re cross, but it’s okay now, I’m here. Forgive me! I was upstairs in Mummy and Daddy’s room and I couldn’t hear you.’

  She suddenly remembers the baby monitor and is dismayed to see that the light isn’t on. She feels sick with guilt.

  ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I’m a despicable person.’ Mabel continues to cry and Ruby rubs her back soothingly. ‘Except I’m sure I switched it on last night … In fact I know I did.’ She picks up the monitor with her free hand and studies it critically. ‘Perhaps it’s broken. Or run out of juice.’ She presses the button and the green light comes on immediately. ‘Nope. Oh shit. How did I forget? That’s so bad. Don’t tell Mummy, Mabel, or she’ll kill me.’

  Her niece has reached the sobbing stage now, taking deep gulps of air that make her tiny ribcage vibrate with effort. Then she starts to hiccup. Ruby carries her into the kitchen and sets about warming a bottle of formula milk – not easy to do with a distraught baby perched on her hip.

  ‘I must be going mad,’ she says to Mabel. ‘I could have sworn there were two bottles left, but there’s only one.’ She glances over to the sink, where a clean bottle and teat are drying on the draining rack. ‘Isn’t that weird? I’ve no memory of giving you that. God, I know I was tired last night and had a couple of beers, but …’ She pulls a face, ashamed of herself.

  Putting Mabel to bed hadn’t been easy. Ruby had stupidly overexcited her and then been unable to calm her down. She’d not enjoyed her bath and had refused to lie in her cot. All the instructions about being kind but firm and not cuddling had to be abandoned. Maybe that was when Ruby had relented and given her an extra feed. She remembers feeling at her wits’ end, finally lifting Mabel up and taking her into the sitting room. She lay with her on the sofa and watched a film until Mabel eventually fell asleep, splayed out starfish-like across her chest. She tries to remember the final moments of the evening – returning Mabel to her cot, placing her in the correct position and turning on the night light so that she wouldn’t be alarmed if she woke. She was sure she turned the monitor on too.

  Feeling annoyed with herself for always being so scatty, she sits down at the dining table and moves Mabel onto her lap. At first the baby sucks eagerly, but after a minute or so she spits the teat out.

  ‘Not hungry? That’s a first. Maybe you’re uncomfortable. Shall we change your nappy?’

  She takes her back to the nursery and lays her down on the changing mat, which Mabel doesn’t like one bit. She kicks and squeals as Ruby removes her from the sleeping pod and takes off her nappy.

  ‘No wonder you were unhappy, you were all wet …’ She cleans Mabel’s bottom according to instructions, and fastens on a new nappy. ‘There you go, that’s better.’

  She yawns. It’s not even 7 a.m. yet – this could be a long day, she thinks. She dresses Mabel in a clean sleepsuit and carries her up to the loft room, wedging her between pillows in the middle of the bed while she has a quick wash in the en suite shower room. She puts yesterday’s clothes on, then picks up her phone, expecting to see a stream of anxious messages from Amber. But to her surprise, there are only two, and neither of them is particularly anxious. The last one was sent at 11.45 p.m.

  ‘Must be having a good time,’ says Ruby. ‘I expect Daddy got her pissed.’ Mabel laughs, as if she understands. Ruby lies next to her on the mattress and together they look up through the window of the sloping roof, staring at the sunrise – streaks of pink and mauve fading to grey-blue. How can it not even be properly light yet?

  The morning passes slowly. After breakfast, Ruby makes up a new batch of feeds and puts them in the fridge. She still can’t remember giving one to Mabel last night, nor washing the bottle, and it really bothers her.

  She knows she’s a scatterbrain – it’s what her mother calls her. The trouble is, she finds the minutiae of life boring and prefers to think about other, more interesting, more important things. Like what career she’s going to have, or whether she and Lewis are going to stay together, or the effects of climate change. Although it’s true that she constantly forgets, misplaces or completely loses things (travel pass, purse, gloves, umbrellas, people’s birthdays, dental appointments, even her precious bike), she always realises it at some point. She’s spent half her life retracing her steps. But she’s never lost a chunk of memory entirely, not even when she’s been really drunk. It’s very, very weird. Almost like her brain malfunctioned last night.

  She won’t mention it to Amber, or to her mother, and she probably won’t tell Lewis either. She can hear his voice right now: ‘Oh Rubes, what are you like?’ There’s no point reinforcing the stereotyped view they all have of her.

  Maybe she needs to go to the doctor … Can you get early-onset Alzheimer’s in your twenties?

  Just need to get organised, she tells herself as she tidies Mabel’s extensive collection of toys, hoovers the sitting room and even mops the kitchen floor. She gathers up the clean, dry washing and makes a pile of ironing – actually doing the ironing would be too out of character and would arouse suspicion, so she stops there.

  For most of this time Mabel bounces happily in her chair, although she’s frightened by the sound of the vacuum cleaner. By the time Ruby’s given her a mid-morning snack and changed two nappies in quick succession following an untimely poo, it’s too late to go to the park. Besides, the sky has clouded over and it looks miserable out there.

  ‘Let’s do some reading instead,’ Ruby says, reaching for a baby board book called On the Farm. She sits on the carpet with Mabel in her lap and makes animal noises and silly gestures, most of which Mabel finds very entertaining. Gratifyingly, she is giggling her little head off when Amber and George walk in.

  ‘Aww, look at her!’ says Amber, rushing forward and scooping Mabel up in her arms. ‘I’ve so missed you. Have you had a lovely time with Auntie Ruby? Have you been a good girl?’

  ‘She’s been perfect,’ says Ruby, lying more for her own sake than Mabel’s. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but she didn’t seem to miss you at all. Maybe when she first woke up, but other than that …’

  ‘What time did she sleep until?’

  ‘Six o’clock.’ It’s a guess, but Ruby tries to make it sound definite.

  ‘Wow! She must have had a bad night.’

  ‘No, not really.’

  ‘What time did she go to bed? It must have been very late,’ says Amber suspiciously. ‘When was her last bottle? You didn’t feed her after midnight, did you? I said only water—’

  George intervenes. ‘What she’s trying to say is thank you so much for looking after her and doing such a brilliant job, eh, Amber?’ He shakes his head in despair. ‘Sorry, Ruby.’

  Ruby shrugs, knowing Amber too well to take offence. ‘Nothing to apologise for.’

  ‘I just need to know where she is in her routine, that’s all,’ Amber says. ‘It wasn’t a criticism.’

  Ruby smiles. ‘It’s fine. Tell me about your night away. How was dinner? Did it live up to its Michelin star?’

  ‘Yes, it did actually,’ Amber says, smiling slyly at George. ‘Thanks, Rubes, it really helped to have some time away from the grind.’

  ‘Any time.’ Ruby stands up. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll get going. Lewis is cooking lunch – allegedly.’

  ‘How is he? We haven’t seen him for ages,’ says George.

  ‘He’s fine.’ Ruby puts on her jacket. She could add that he seems to have an aversion to babies, but decides that wouldn’t be very tactful. ‘Busy at work.’ She casts around for her bobble hat and, finding it, pulls it over her head. ‘Right. I’m off. Just hope my bike hasn’t been nicked.’

  ‘Oh, can I have the door key?’ Amber asks. ‘It’s our only spare. I keep meaning to get more cut, but you know how it is …’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’ Ruby feels in her pockets, then looks in her bag, emptying it onto the carpet. ‘Um … not sure where I put it … In the kitchen, probably. Or maybe by the ch
anging unit.’ She searches both places, but the key’s nowhere to be seen. ‘Sorry. I can’t remember what I did with it.’

  Amber groans. ‘Oh Ruby, what’s the matter with you?’

  ‘When did you last use it?’ asks George.

  ‘Yesterday. We went to the park, then came home. Haven’t been out at all today.’

  He turns to Amber, who is now irritably opening and shutting drawers, picking up objects even though it’s obvious the key couldn’t possibly be lying underneath and slamming them down again.

  ‘Relax, hon. It has to be in the flat, otherwise Ruby wouldn’t have been able to get back in, would she? Don’t worry, it’ll turn up.’

  ‘You don’t understand, George, I’ve had a lifetime of this. Ever since she was little. She can’t be trusted with a thing.’ Amber kneels down and feels under the sofa. ‘Think, Ruby. Think!’

  ‘Maybe I tidied it up with the toys.’ In truth, Ruby can’t remember what she did with the bloody key, but as George said, it’s obviously in the flat somewhere, so why is Amber making such a monumental fuss? She wasn’t mugged, she didn’t drop it in the street. It’s not lost forever. Nothing bad has happened. Everything’s fine.

  Chapter Seven

  Six days before

  Amber marvels at the strangeness of the weekend as she tidies the bedroom. On the surface, it was a success – even Ruby seemed to notice the glow around them when she and George came home. But emotionally it was utterly exhausting, and when she woke up, she felt very confused.

  George went off to work this morning with a spring in his step, despite Mabel keeping them awake half the night. The little terror is having an unscheduled nap now and Amber is going to let her sleep as long as she likes. She needs some time alone to process what happened, to replay the scenes in sequence and understand the twists and turns of the plot.