Before I Let You In (32 page)

‘Do they have any idea who was responsible?’

Adam laughed, a hollow sound with no humour. ‘I was prime suspect number one. Luckily I was in the office all day rather than travelling; there’s no way I could have gone home. They don’t think it was a robbery, as nothing was taken. The neighbours heard her arguing with someone. The police are questioning Karen – did you know?’

‘Karen?’ Bea was confused. ‘Why? Wouldn’t she have been at work too?’

Adam looked at her, and for the first time she took in the red rims and the puffiness around his eyes. He looked completely broken. ‘She’d been suspended that week. I thought you’d know.’

‘We had a fight.’ Bea was ashamed to admit it; it all seemed so insignificant compared with their lives now. ‘About Michael. Surely …’ She couldn’t bring herself to say Eleanor’s name. ‘Surely you knew that?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘Eleanor had been acting really strange, and not just new-baby strange. We barely spoke, and when she did speak to me it was to snap at me about how little I did, or how little I understood.’

Bea sighed. ‘We found out that Michael is married. Eleanor didn’t take it well – you know how she felt about that kind of thing, the sacred family unit and all that. She hadn’t spoken to Karen since she found out.’

‘Well she must have started. That’s why Karen was taken in for questioning: she was seen at our house the morning Eleanor … the morning it happened.’

‘I don’t know anything about that. I haven’t spoken to Karen in over a week. She wouldn’t answer my calls.’

Bea thought back to the date her best friend had set up for her, the video emailed to her workmates. What the hell was going on with Karen? It wasn’t like her; she’d always been so together, never one for nasty, malicious games. The conversation they’d had just a few weeks before flashed through her mind.

‘I need to ask you a question.’ She looked down at the table, unable to meet Adam’s eyes. ‘Before we fell out, Karen said she’d seen you with one of her patients. She thought you were having an affair.’

If it was possible for Adam’s face to lose even more colour, Bea was sure it happened at her words.

‘I wouldn’t … I couldn’t …’

She reached out a hand and touched his arm. ‘It doesn’t matter now. Whatever happened, it’s not important.’

‘Of course it is. I can’t allow people to believe I could do that to Eleanor.’ He let out a sigh. ‘Let’s face it, the last few months I was a shit husband. I worked late on purpose to avoid whatever I might have done or said wrong that day, when Els needed me there for her and the boys. I got out of the house at any opportunity; I went to the gym, for Christ’s sake – I haven’t been to the gym in years! I was so selfish, I just kept thinking about how I needed space and time to myself when I should have been spending every last minute with my family. Oh God, if I could just go back and be the husband she deserved …’

He was either telling the truth or a very good liar; Bea wasn’t sure which. Her head was full of all the things that had happened to the three of them over the last couple of months, and she had no idea what the hell was going on. Karen wouldn’t lie about seeing Adam with another woman. And this patient of hers, Bea was sure she was real too. So what was the truth? And who could she trust? But most importantly, with Eleanor gone and Karen missing, what would happen to them now?

75

Bea

‘
Bea, it’s Michael. Can you let me in? We need to talk.’

Bea pressed the talk button on the intercom and injected as much venom into her voice as she could manage. ‘I’d rather shit in my hands and clap. Go away.’

There was a silence, filled only by the static that indicated Michael still had his finger on the buzzer.

‘Look,’ he said at last. ‘I know you think I’m to blame for what happened—’

‘That’s because it’s your fault,’ Bea interrupted. ‘I know you aren’t responsible for …’ She couldn’t say the words.
Eleanor’s death.
‘But you’re to blame for what has happened to us. You’re the reason none of us were speaking. Why are you even here? You should be with Karen, supporting her. Isn’t she being questioned again?’

‘I have no idea. We had a huge argument the night before … the night before Eleanor … about this patient of hers, and she told me to go back to … to go home. She won’t talk to me, she won’t let me in the house and I don’t want to let myself in – it’s her home after all. I was hoping you could talk to her, make her see sense …’

‘Piss off, Michael. Sounds like she’s already seen sense. Go home to your family.’

Bea released the button and wandered round the front room, picking up the remote and moving it from the sofa to the table, tidying the magazines from the table to the sofa. The buzzer didn’t sound again. Was he still outside? She peered through the useless peephole; there was no one in the narrow hallway, no eye staring back at her. He couldn’t be in the hall, not unless someone let him in through the front. She was just being stupid.

So Karen and Michael were no more. In that case, why hadn’t she been answering Bea’s calls? It had been nearly two weeks since they last spoke – had she been alone since Eleanor’s death? Whatever their differences, Karen surely couldn’t go through this alone.

From the front window of the flat she could only see a corner of the doorstep, but it looked empty. No cars waited in the street outside. She backed away from the window, letting the curtain fall limply back into place. Anger gave way to an uneasy feeling. Should she be scared of him?

Don’t be ridiculous, she told herself. This is Michael. You’ve known him for two years. He sang karaoke at your birthday party and you’ve slept on his sofa. There’s nothing dangerous about him.

Except there’s a lot you don’t know about him. You don’t know his wife, or his children. You don’t know where he sleeps at weekends, whether he reads his twin daughters bedtime stories or if he thinks of Karen while he’s having sex with his wife. And there’s someone else you thought you knew. Karen. But you didn’t know she was a mistress. Or what had happened to her sister. Do you know she didn’t kill your best friend?

She jumped at the sound of knocking at the front door. Someone had let him in – probably fucking Tara from upstairs, stupid cow. Now what was she going to do?

She picked up her mobile and keyed 999 without pressing dial. Edging closer to the door as quietly as she could manage with her heart beating a tattoo through her chest and her ragged breathing as an accompaniment, she pressed a hand against it. Would he go away if she didn’t answer? Or would he try to kick it down?

‘Bea?’

The voice didn’t belong to Michael – not unless he’d had a sex change in the ten minutes since she’d told him to get lost. It was Tara, the dozy mare from upstairs and the least threatening person she knew. Bea had never been so happy to hear her voice.

‘Thank God it’s you.’ She threw open the door, half expecting at the last minute to see Michael with his arm around Tara’s neck like a low-budget slasher-movie villain. But Tara was alone, a folded piece of paper in her hand and her usual vacant expression on her face.

‘Some guy downstairs asked me to give you this.’ She handed Bea the note and waited expectantly for her to open it. Bea grasped the piece of paper and plastered on a bright smile.

‘Thanks, hun!’ She made a move to close the door, but Tara stayed rooted to the spot.

‘Seemed pretty intense,’ she continued, either oblivious to Bea’s desire to escape or pretending to be. ‘He your new boyfriend or something?’

‘Or something,’ Bea replied. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I was in the middle of cooking tea. Open flame and all that. Can’t burn the building down!’ And without waiting for Tara’s reply, she closed the door in the waiting girl’s face.

She practically threw the paper on to the coffee table while she went to pour herself a glass of wine. She was going to need to be sitting down and not completely sober to read whatever Michael had to say to her. Hearing him say Eleanor’s name had been like stepping on a plug – a painful shock followed by a dull ache.

Glass in hand, she sank into the cream sofa and fingered the edge of the paper. She could so easily throw it away, burn it, flush it down the toilet, but she knew she wouldn’t. People only did that in films. In real life it would take a heart of ice not to be curious, and hopeful. And petrified.

Breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth, like Paul McKenna had taught her when she was trying to think herself thin, Bea unfolded the paper.

She’d expected to see line after line of pleading and apologies. Instead she saw just two sentences.

I know who her patient was. Call me.

76

How did you feel when you saw the police waiting for you at your house?

I was scared, of course. I knew something bad must have happened. It was all part of her plan.

What do you think Jessica’s plan for you was?

She was going to turn everyone against me. She wanted to take away everything I’d worked so hard for: my career, my relationship, my friends.

How had you worked hard for those things? Aren’t friendships and relationships a normal part of life? How did you have to work harder than anyone else?

You know why.

Because you had to deceive people to get them? Michael’s wife and family, your friends.

I suppose you could say that. I’m not going to pretend I haven’t lied to people, but if you tell the truth, sometimes people get hurt. No one wants to know the truth anyway; they pretend to but they don’t.

What do you mean by that?

Take Eleanor, for example. She always said that if she found out Adam was cheating on her she would get rid of him straight away, and yet when it came to it she didn’t even ask him for the truth. She would rather not know and pretend there was nothing wrong than face the truth and have to make a difficult decision. And if you want to talk about Michael’s wife – if there was ever anyone who didn’t want to face the truth, it was her. Do you think she didn’t suspect for a second that her husband might not be working away all week? He had a whole other life, for goodness’ sake. If she’d wanted to find out the truth, she could have done it at any point. She only had to follow him once, or ask what the extra set of keys on his key ring was for. She didn’t find out because she never wanted to.

So it’s okay to lie if the truth would hurt people?

It’s as good a reason as any.

Surely you could just stop doing the things that would hurt people.

I never said I was perfect. I’ve never said that.

77

Bea

Bea swilled back the dregs of her wine and reached out for the bottle to pour herself another glass. She knew she should keep a clear head if she was going to call Michael – and she
was
going to call him. She had so many questions. Her whole life had been blown apart by what had happened to Eleanor. Karen had been taken in for questioning and Bea felt like she had no right to demand answers from anyone. The police had no obligation to tell her anything, and Eleanor’s family were maintaining an icy silence. It hurt, the way she was being frozen out, as though she was a mere acquaintance, as if she hadn’t known Eleanor almost her whole life, but she understood that they had the boys to think about now – and her pain was nothing compared to what they were going through.

It wasn’t just Eleanor she had lost; it was as though her whole life had been rubbed out by a huge eraser, and there was no rewriting it. It had always been Bea, Eleanor and Karen. Without Eleanor she didn’t even know who she was any more. Now it was as if she and Karen had never been more than passing acquaintances. Okay, so they’d fallen out, but surely something as enormous as this should bring them back together? If not this, then would anything?

The sound of her phone blaring out Sir Mix-A-Lot was unwelcome and distasteful at a time when smiling was unbearable. The tune meant one person, though; the only person she could tolerate talking to at the moment.

‘Fran, hey.’

‘Hey. How’re you feeling?’

‘Like shit.’ Fran was the only one who asked that question and expected an honest answer rather than an ‘I’m fine.’ Bea didn’t even have to ask how her sister was in return. Fran was a giver, not a taker.

‘Of course you are. This whole thing is shit. I’m coming over in half an hour with
Fast and Furious
and toffee popcorn. Oh, and a vat of wine. I was just calling to see if you needed any shopping. I make a crappy lasagne, but I can fill your freezer with artery-squeezing ready meals.’

At times like this, too many people asked if there was anything they could do, knowing that the person they were asking would say no out of politeness. Not Fran. If she wanted to help, she’d just do it. Knowing that her big sister had gone out and chosen a film and her favourite pick-me-ups made Bea want to hug her down the phone. She longed to tell Fran that that sounded perfect and spend the evening on the sofa in her comfy grey pyjamas, but she knew she’d just end up wondering what the hell Michael thought he knew, and what he intended to do about it.

‘There’s honestly nothing I’d love more, Fran, but I have plans to be a complete moron tonight.’ She sighed and gave her sister an unedited account of her afternoon. ‘You may as well tell me I’m being an idiot and threaten to dob me in to Mum now.’

‘I probably should …’ Fran dropped her voice, presumably so Rich didn’t hear her being irresponsible, ‘but I wouldn’t be able to resist finding out either. You don’t think Michael had anything to do with what happened to Els, do you? Hasn’t his wife given him an alibi? The police obviously don’t think he was involved; they’ve got their heads firmly up their arses trying to prove it was Karen.’

‘You’re not telling me
you
think she didn’t do it? I thought you’d be the first with the torch and pitchfork.’

‘What, the doc? Come on, Bea, seriously? You’ve known her for years – admittedly not as well as you thought you did, but still, you were all so close.’