The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Read online

  ‘What do you mean, weird?’ His tone is ever so slightly impatient.

  ‘I, er … had a memory lapse.’

  ‘What?’

  She tells him about the washing machine and the wet sock, but he screws his face up, unimpressed.

  ‘Everyone has moments like that,’ he says dismissively. ‘Like walking into a room and forgetting what you came in for. Or arriving home and not being able to remember the journey. You were distracted by Mabel, I expect. Nothing to worry about. If you’re looking for a reason for me not to go to the conference, you’ll have to do better than that.’

  There are many things Amber could say in reply, but she decides to keep them to herself. She cannot, will not spend the weekend on her own with Mabel. The mere thought of it makes her insides roll over in waves of panic.

  After dinner, while George is in the nursery getting Mabel ready for bed, she manages to exchange a few frantic texts with Seth, then makes a call to her sister.

  ‘Rubes, are you doing anything at the weekend?’

  ‘Hmm … not sure … possibly,’ she replies. ‘I’m not working, so Lewis and I were thinking of going to Bristol to see some friends.’

  ‘Oh.’ It only takes one small word to convey Amber’s enormous disappointment.

  ‘Why? What’s up?’

  ‘George has to go to a conference in Manchester, for two whole nights, and—’

  ‘You want me to come over and keep you company?’

  Amber lowers her voice. ‘Well, what I really wanted to ask was if you could possibly look after Mabel by yourself, like last time.’

  There’s the tiniest of pauses. ‘Oh, so you want to go with him? Another romantic night away, eh?’ Ruby sounds pleased.

  ‘No, no.’ Amber cups her hand over the receiver. ‘There’s this yoga retreat I want to go on in Somerset. Gaia Hall. Usually they’re booked out, but they’ve had a cancellation. It would really help me if—’

  ‘Why are you whispering?’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘I was talking too loudly before, that’s all,’ she bluffs. ‘George is trying to get Mabel down.’

  Ruby doesn’t respond immediately. Amber can tell she’s weighing up the situation, trying to work out why her sister is lying.

  ‘Okay,’ she says finally. ‘Can I bring Lewis?’

  ‘Of course. If he wants to come.’

  ‘See you Friday then. And make sure you’ve got some beers in.’

  It’s nearly eleven before Mabel finally accepts defeat and George manages to get her to sleep. Amber has already gone to bed but is sitting up tapping away on her laptop. She quickly shuts the lid as George enters.

  ‘Look what I’ve just found,’ he says, holding up a key.

  She peers at it across the room. ‘Is that the spare to the front door?’

  ‘Yes!’ He puts it on the chest of drawers.

  ‘Where was it?’

  ‘In the saucer of that cactus, you know, the one you bought me for my birthday about five years ago. God knows why Ruby put it there. She’s such an airhead.’

  ‘I know, she’s impossible,’ agrees Amber. ‘Still, she’s been incredibly good to us. I spoke to her earlier; she’s coming to stay for the weekend.’

  ‘Great.’ He starts to undress.

  Amber knows she ought to tell him that Ruby will be looking after Mabel by herself, but she holds back. He should like the idea of her going on a yoga retreat, but what if he objects and tells her to cancel?

  ‘Odd about the key,’ he continues. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t find it earlier.’

  ‘I’m surprised you didn’t,’ she retorts.

  ‘Yeah, but surely you would have seen it when you were watering the plants.’

  ‘You’re not supposed to water cacti during the winter – hardly ever, anyway. Besides, it’s your cactus.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re at home all day.’

  She tightens her jaw. ‘So? What are you implying?’

  ‘I just find it weird that you claimed you’d searched high and low when clearly you hadn’t—’

  ‘George! Stop being such an arse. You found the key, okay? Congratulations! There’s no need to weaponise it.’

  He pulls back his side of the duvet and climbs in next to her. ‘I’m not. I’m just saying it’s odd, that’s all, when the thing was there all the time, staring you in the face.’

  ‘Us,’ she snaps, turning out the light without warning. ‘It was staring us in the face.’

  But later, as she lies there in the darkness, her irritation gives way to a fresh anxiety. She did search high and low. That cactus sits on the sideboard in the corner of the kitchen-diner. She gives it a few drops of water once a week, moves the pot whenever she dusts. She must catch sight of it several times a day, whenever she opens the cupboard or uses the drawers. So why didn’t she see the key before?

  Chapter Eleven

  Two days before

  Ruby pulls a face. ‘Please, Lewis! Don’t make me look after Mabel all on my own. One night was hard enough, but two …’

  ‘Sorry, but I need to work this weekend.’

  She stares at him suspiciously. ‘Really? The last I heard, we were going to Bristol.’

  ‘Things have changed. I forgot to mention it, sorry.’

  She groans at him. ‘Can’t you swap shifts?’

  ‘No. We’re short-staffed, there’s nobody else available. Why did you say yes if you didn’t want to do it?’

  ‘I don’t know … She sounded desperate – I felt like I couldn’t refuse. And I hoped you’d be joining me. It’ll be so much easier with two of us. It’s such a responsibility, you know, looking after somebody else’s child.’

  ‘I’ll try to pop over on Sunday, how about that?’

  ‘Okay,’ she says, her voice sounding small. He moves forward and hugs her until she softens in his arms. ‘The thing is … something else is bothering me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think Amber and George are having problems.’

  He instantly pulls away. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Amber’s lying, I’m sure of it. She told me she was going on a yoga retreat this weekend – it’s so not her kind of thing. Something smells bad. I don’t want to be part of it.’

  Lewis shrugs. ‘If you feel uncomfortable, just say no.’

  ‘I can’t let her down now.’ She sighs. ‘But I’m going to have to have a proper talk with her on Friday, find out what’s going on.’

  ‘I thought everything was okay after their romantic night away.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘But a yoga retreat, that’s good, isn’t it? Sounds like she’s finally doing something about the depression.’

  Ruby shakes her head. ‘Two days of saluting the sun isn’t going to make the dark clouds disappear. It’s a long-term thing. She has to start by being honest – with George, me, Mum, everyone. But most of all, with herself.’

  On Friday afternoon, Ruby takes the Overground to Waltham Green, having decided it wouldn’t be safe to leave her bike chained to the park railings for two days. She’s still worried about what’s going on behind the doors of number 74, but has decided not to confront Amber until she returns on Sunday, hopefully refreshed and relaxed.

  She walks down the street, her small overnight bag bouncing against her back. The weather forecast is good – mild, dry and bright – ideal for long walks with Mabel. It’s a shame that Lewis can’t make it; she was looking forward to playing mummies and daddies with him, trying the idea on for size. Maybe he sensed that, she thinks as she approaches the house, and the sudden need to work is an excuse. Lewis can be so closed off. It’s hard to know what he’s thinking most of the time. And as for Amber and George, well, God knows what’s really going on there. Why do all the people in her life behave so obliquely? She’s heartily sick of it.

  ‘You’re late!’ says Amber, throwing open the front door.

  ‘No I’m not. You s
aid two-ish.’

  ‘Yes, and it’s nearly three.’

  Amber thumps up the stairs and Ruby follows, murmuring, ‘Thanks for coming, sis’ under her breath.

  Amber gives her a torrent of instructions as she puts her coat on and zips up a small suitcase.

  ‘The spare key’s here,’ she says, pointing to the kitchen counter. ‘Put it back there, please, not in the flower pot.’

  ‘I didn’t—’ Ruby starts to protest, but her sister talks over her.

  ‘Mabel went down twenty minutes ago; don’t let her sleep for more than an hour or you’ll have problems later. If the landline rings, don’t answer, let it go to voicemail. Don’t contact George unless it’s an emergency and you can’t get hold of me first. I’ll have my phone on silent – I don’t think you’re allowed them on retreat, but hey. Text is probably better.’

  Ruby folds her arms and gives Amber an exacting stare. ‘This is all sounding a bit cloak-and-dagger. George does know you’re leaving Mabel with me, right?’

  ‘I’ll be back Sunday afternoon. George won’t be back till the evening,’ Amber replies, sidestepping the question. ‘Gotta go. I’m supposed to be there in time for vegan supper, God help us,’ she scoffs, forgetting that Ruby is a vegan herself. ‘And thanks, I owe you big-time.’

  ‘Are you okay, Amber?’ Ruby searches her sister’s face for clues. ‘Only I’m worried about you, I feel like you’re—’

  ‘I’m fine!’ Amber snaps. ‘I can’t stay and chat – I’m going to hit the Friday traffic as it is.’

  ‘Okay. Drive safely.’

  She tuts. ‘I always do.’ She picks up the case and thunders down the stairs.

  Ruby waits until she hears the front door slam shut, then breathes out. So, she was right. George doesn’t know about the yoga retreat. But why the secrecy? What’s all this about?

  Mabel sleeps beyond her allotted hour, but Ruby can’t bear to wake her. She looks so contented and peaceful, lying in her pod like a plant sprouting out of a grow bag. Ruby pulls up a chair and pokes her arm through the bars of the cot. She lightly strokes Mabel’s soft pink cheek, marvelling at her long eyelashes and her rosebud mouth, the wisps of auburn hair curling around her tiny ears. The connection between them feels unbreakably strong. It’s not just the knowledge that they share ancestors and genes, it’s more instinctive than that. She loves this baby more than she could ever have imagined. What might she feel if one day she has a child of her own?

  It’s easy to feel full of unconditional love when a child is asleep, she reflects a few hours later, as she battles to comfort a screaming Mabel. She’s been fed, changed, bathed, played with, jiggled about to music, told stories, sung lullabies, allowed to watch TV … all to no avail.

  ‘Oh dear, you’re missing your mummy, aren’t you?’ Ruby says, holding her niece up and trying to interest her in the moon and stars mobile.

  To her surprise, Amber hasn’t been in touch once. The last time Ruby babysat overnight, she was constantly texting and asking for updates, but there’s been silence for hours. Maybe there’s no reception in darkest Somerset, or maybe her phone was confiscated on arrival.

  George hasn’t rung the landline either, although Ruby is less surprised by that. She prays he really is at a conference and not shagging one of his many exclusive clients. He’s always boasting about the women who hit on him at the gym, particularly the older divorcees. Does Amber suspect anything? she wonders. She hasn’t said, but that doesn’t surprise Ruby. If there’s one thing her sister has in spades, it’s pride. Hopefully he’ll be in the hotel bar, getting pissed with colleagues and having a laugh. Ruby doesn’t begrudge him a couple of nights of freedom, as long as he behaves himself.

  ‘Oh dear, oh dear, don’t cry like that, you’ll make yourself sick.’ She walks up and down the room with Mabel, rocking her until her arms hurt, then transferring her onto her shoulder and rubbing her back. Her little face is sticky with hot tears, and every so often her body shudders with the effort of sobbing. She seems inconsolable and Ruby doesn’t know what else to do.

  Should she let her sleep in the bed with her tonight? She knows it’s very much against the rules, but Mabel’s not going to rat on her and it will probably do the trick. But it will also set a precedent, and if she starts refusing to go in her cot, Amber will twig and Ruby will be in big trouble.

  She takes Mabel out of the nursery and back to the sitting room, lying down on the sofa with her sprawled across her chest. She squirms around like a giant slug, biting at Ruby’s jumper and leaving a trail of wet slobbery stains. But Ruby gently strokes the back of her head and murmurs in soothing tones until Mabel flops against her chest, worn out by the fight.

  Clasping the baby tightly, Ruby eases herself upright and stands. She slowly carries her back to the nursery and lays her down in her cot.

  ‘Mustn’t forget to turn your monitor on this time,’ she whispers, pressing the button so that the light flashes. Then she tiptoes out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

  It’s late. She climbs the stairs to Amber and George’s room. It feels odd to be sleeping in somebody else’s private space. There’s a framed photo above the bed, taken on their wedding day. Amber looks so beautiful in her simple white dress, auburn hair falling over her shoulders, freckles dancing across her nose, a neat diamanté tiara sparkling in the sunlight. Gorgeous George looks even more gorgeous than usual in his impeccable grey suit and silky cravat. The perfect couple.

  Three years on, and now look at them … It’s not good. As she gets ready for bed, Ruby thinks – in a vague kind of way – about how she and Lewis compare. They seem like a couple of kids playing at adult life. Sometimes she feels frustrated by his unwillingness to commit, but maybe he’s got the right approach. At least they know how to have fun together and she doesn’t have any worries about him being unfaithful. Before she settles down, she sends him a text.

  Mabel finally asleep. Worn out! Wish you were here. Love you xxx

  His reply arrives seconds later. Well done. Love you too x

  She settles down in the bed and closes her eyes. Within minutes she feels herself falling into blackness and succumbs to it willingly.

  The night passes in a series of vivid dreams. Mabel crawls around her head in a manic game of tag. Ruby chases after her, but every time she gets within grabbing distance, Mabel speeds up or turns a corner or even disappears. Another time, she hears crying but can’t work out where the sound is coming from, outside the dream or within it. She wants to follow the noise, but her legs refuse to move. ‘Where are you, Mabel?’ she mouths, but the dream won’t let her speak. Then the crying stops and she has the sensation of letting go of something, of falling backwards and sinking into the bottomless well of sleep.

  Chapter Twelve

  The day

  I’ve just seen the babysitter leave the house with the buggy and head into the park, off for their Saturday-morning stroll, by the look of it. Same baggy trousers, same silly bobble hat on her head. She passed within a few feet of me and a shiver of expectation ran through my body.

  They trundle past the play area, then disappear behind the café building. As tempting as it is to follow them, I decide to leave the park immediately and go home. There’s so much to prepare, so many plans to put into action. On my way out, I walk along William Morris Terrace, scanning the street for Amber and George’s car. As I guessed, it’s not there. Impossible to know how long they’re going to be away, but surely they wouldn’t leave Mabel for more than a couple of days? They may even return this evening. But if they don’t … if the babysitter is on her own with Mabel tonight …

  The rest of the day passes slowly, even though I’m fully occupied. I’m trembling with excitement as I go around the flat, packing and making final arrangements. By 5 p.m., everything is ready. I have nappies, clothes, formula, baby food, a travel cot, a car seat, a high chair and a lightweight foldable buggy that fits neatly into the boot of my car. I have enough food to last me
several weeks, and only need to take the minimum amount of clothes. I won’t be going out, apart from to take Mabel for walks in the forest. Must take my wellies too – it rains a lot down there. I dig them out of the cupboard and put them by the door, along with everything else. Can’t pack the car until it gets dark.

  I’m feeling too nervous to eat. I clean the fridge and wipe down the kitchen surfaces, more to give me something to do than because I want to leave the flat in good order. I’ll have to keep paying the rent because I’m leaving lots of stuff here. Who knows when I’ll be able to come back to collect it? Not that it matters; I don’t need any of that stuff. It’s all extraneous and unnecessary. I’m even leaving behind the presents I was given. Like an idiot, I was clinging onto them as some kind of feeble substitute, but I don’t need them any more. Soon I’m going to have the only present I ever wanted.

  Big changes are ahead. I feel dizzy with expectation. After months of living in the shadows, I’m walking into the light. I’m starting my life again; I’m going to be reborn.

  3 a.m. Fully loaded, I drive the car to a quiet side street several hundred metres from William Morris Terrace and park in a dark spot, away from CCTV cameras and street lamps. The roads are so quiet; not a single car passes me as I walk towards the house. My heart thumps with every step, racing to keep up with me. The copied key swings on its string necklace and I press it beneath the layers of clothing. My hood is up; I’m wearing a scarf over my face and black leather gloves. Dark, anonymous clothes. Unremarkable footwear. Fortunately, it’s cold, so I don’t look out of place. There’s nobody about, but I keep my head down in case any houses have security cameras.

  The park looms ahead of me, grey blobs of trees rustling eerily in the night breeze. The gates are closed to all but the night creatures. I stop for a few seconds to listen to the wildlife going about its business. A distant fox is screaming; birds are singing in a desperate pre-dawn chorus. I’m the only human being around.