Girl on the Run (18 page)

Jane crept up to the door and peered through the spyhole. She couldn't see anything. Just as she was about to retreat again, Marsh's head popped up.

‘
I thought I heard you walking.’ His face was distorted by the spyhole.

Jane knew he couldn't actually see her.
‘Go away.’

‘
Not until you talk to me.’

‘
No.’

‘
Well,’ he said, ‘you don't actually have to open the door for me to talk to you.’

Jane put her fingers in her ears. She could hear muffled sounds of Marsh talking as she walked back to her room, but couldn't make out the words. Fine. There was nothing he could say that could make this better.

* * *

Text
from: Stevie, To: Marsh

How
r u getting on? Any progress?

##

Text from: Marsh, To: Stevie

No progress. She won't open the door or even talk to me through it
.
　I really, REALLY need coffee, but I can't leave here.

##

Text from: Stevie, To: Marsh

Why don't
u call up the local café and see if they'll deliver one?

##

Text from: Mars
h,
To: Stevie

Don't be ridiculous. Can you imagine the conversation
?
　‘Where would you like it delivered to?
’
　
‘
The corridor outside flat 32, please.
’
　‘Flat 32, got it.
’
　‘No, the corridor outside. Oh, and there's no point buzzing to be let in, she won't let you in. You need to ask the guy at the desk to send you up to the floor …
’
　No, I think I'll have to remain caffeine-less for now.

##

Text from: Stevie, To: Marshall

How did
u get in, if she didn't buzz u in?

##

Text from: Marsh
,
　To: Stevie

I followed someone else in. I just have to hope she's not so cross that she calls security.

##

From: Stevie
, To: Valerie

Val, have you got an email address or phone number for Jane Porter
?
　Marsh is sitting outside her flat, trying to talk to her and she's not letting him in. He's had about twohours sleep and only one cup of coffee. Things could go horribly wrong if someone doesn't do something
.
　Lov
e
　Stevie.

##

From: Valerie, To: Stevie

I only have her work email address:
[email protected]
.
　I'll see if I can get any more info from HR. Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to divulge this sort of information
.
　Val.

##

From: Stevie, To: Jane

Hi Jane
.
　My name's Stevie Winfield. I'm Marsh's sister. I don't know if you can pick up your work emails from home
.
　Marsh told me what happened. I just wanted to say that he would NEVER do what you accused him of
.
　Let me tell you about my brother. When my parents died, I was thirteen and he was twenty-one. He became my legal guardian. Rather than give up uni, he bought the flat for us to live in, and he studied, did up the flat and looked after me all at the same time. He became my mum and dad and my best friend as well as my brother. Any semblance of normality I have in my life is because of him. Does that sound like the sort of man who would betray the girl he loves, just to get his face in the paper
?
　Also, his career was the only part of his life that he felt like he had any control over and he threw himself into it. It means the world to him. Trust me, I know. There is NO WAY he would jeopardise this promotion by doing something like this
.
　I understand that you got your information from Keith. He's a sleazebag and not above lying and cheating. He made a pass at me when I was seventeen. I wouldn't believe a word he says
.
　That's all, really. Marsh loves you. He wouldn't do anything to hurt you
.
　Stevi
e
　xxxx

* * *

Jane was stalking around the flat, trying to ignore the fact that Marsh was still on the other side of the front door. If she stood still and listened, she could hear soft tip-tap of his fingers on the keyboard. An image of him, sitting hunched up on the floor, working, floated into her mind. She shook her head and turned on the TV. Loud.

It was odd, knowing he was out there. It was almost like it was
before, when she had been trapped in the flat, unable to go out because of people lying in wait for her outside. At least she wasn't frightened of Marsh. Angry, yes, but not frightened. She tried to concentrate on what was on telly. At some point in the middle of
Murder She Wrote
, she fell asleep.

The sound of voices in the corridor woke her. Marsh was talking to someone. Jane hit the mute button on the TV and listened.
Polly's voice. She heard them talk back and forth, and then Polly's key grated in the lock. She sprang to her feet and spun round to face the door.

Polly smiled at her apologetically.
‘I think there's someone here wanting to talk to you.’ She stepped aside to let Marsh through.

Ever since her conversation with Keith, Jane had been seething about Marsh and what he'd done. In her mind, she'd painted him as two-faced and evil. But the Marsh who shuffled in, still stuffing his computer into his bag, looked anything but evil. His hair was a mess, there were bags under his eyes and his suit was crumpled, just as though he'd been sitting on the floor in it.

Completely against her better judgement, Jane felt the urge to throw her arms around him when he gave her a tentative smile.

She remembered why she was angry and pulled herself together.
‘I have nothing to say to you.’

‘
Hear me out,’ he said.

Behind him, Polly slipped away to her room.

Jane crossed her arms. ‘Fine.’

‘
I didn't do it. All that stuff you accused me of, I didn't do any of it.’

‘
Of course you're going to deny it. You'd be stupid not to.’ Whatever else she could call him, she knew he wasn't stupid.

‘
But Jane, why would I do it? I knew you wanted to be left alone. What possible reason would I have to tell the press where you are?’

Her anger reignited.
‘How should I know how your twisted mind works? Maybe you just wanted your face in the papers? Or to tell everyone you'd slept with a famous bird.’ The minute she said it, she wondered if that was true. Her stomach twisted with disgust at the thought.

Marsh's face was a picture of horror.
‘That's just ridiculous. I can't believe you'd even think that.’

‘
And what about Dominique?’

‘
What about Dominique?’ He looked genuinely puzzled. ‘What does she have to do with anything?’

‘
Oh, so you deny that you two are still together?’

‘
Oh course I bloody deny it! We split up ages ago.’ His frown was turning into a glare. He was losing his calm, but she didn't care.

‘
Who lives with you in your flat then?’

‘
My sister. Stevie.’

‘
Oh yeah? What about the perfume?’

He stared.
‘What bloody perfume?’

‘
Aha!’

‘
For heaven's sake!’ He reached in his bag, tore a corner off a protruding piece of paper and scribbled something down. ‘Here. She's there now. Call her.’

Jane didn't move.

Marsh let the paper drop. He stepped closer and his eyes flashed with anger. ‘Look, you insane woman, Keith is lying. He wanted to stitch me up. It was probably him that told the magazine in the first place.’

Jane backed away.
‘Why on earth would Keith lie? What does he have to gain?’

‘
You don't know the guy.’ His tone was bitter.

‘
You're right. I don't know him any more than I know you.’

‘
And yet you trust his word over mine?’

When Jane didn't respond, he went on.
‘I knew it was a mistake to fall for you. Before I met you, I was set to be promoted. Now, thanks to all this, I'll be lucky to have a job tomorrow. And you know what? Until five minutes ago, I would have thought it was worth it.

‘
I would have thrown away the job of my dreams and started over, just to be with you.’ His mouth twisted down at the corners. ‘And it turns out that you don't even trust me enough to stand up for me when Keith spins you a ridiculous yarn. I can't believe I was so stupid!’ He glared at her, hurt and resentment etched on his face.

All the fight suddenly drained out of her, leaving her close to tears again.
‘I don't know who to believe any more.’

The anger in his eyes subsided.
‘Perhaps that's something you need to work out for yourself. I'm just sorry I got involved.’

He turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Text from: Marsh, To: Stevie

Am coming home. Make coffee.

##

Text
from: Stevie, To: Marsh

Oh dear.
Guessthings didn't go well then
.
　I will have coffee ready. And I've just been out 2 get more ice cream. Chunky Monkey Ok 4 u?

##

Text from: Marsh, To: Stevie

Thanks
:-)

##

Text from: Stevie, To: Marsh

U
r welcome
.
　Us Winfield kids should stick 2gether, right
?
　X

* * *

Jane stared at the door for minutes after Marsh left.

‘
Well, that didn't go so well,’ said Polly, making Jane jump.

Her thoughts were a jumble of hurt and anger. The piece of paper with Marsh's phone number lay at her feet. She picked it up.

‘For what it's worth, I believe him,’ Polly said.

‘
I don't know, Polly. I'd like to, but who else would have known where we were going for dinner?’

‘
God, he could have mentioned it to anyone.’

‘
I don't think he did. He was always very keen on keeping everything hush hush. Which is why it makes sense that he's probably still got a girlfriend. I mean, there's clearly a woman living in that flat from time to time.’ She waved a hand, as if gesturing at a shelf full of cosmetics. ‘There's
Cosmo
magazines and cellulite scrub and everything.’

‘
Maybe it is his sister's, like he said.’

Jane sank into a chair.
‘Maybe.’

‘
Look, why don't you call the flat and find out. He said she was there at the moment.’

Jane looked at the paper.
‘What if it's Dominique and she pretends to be his sister?’

‘
So phone and ask for Dominique then. If it's her, she'll say so, won't she?’

‘
I guess.’

Polly thrust the phone at her.
‘Go on. Do it before he gets home.’

To her surprise, her hands were shaking as Jane punched out the numbers. She took a deep breath and put the receiver to her ear.

‘Hello.’ A female voice.

‘
Uh …’ Her throat had gone dry.

‘
Hello?’

‘
Is Dominique there, please?’

There was a short silence.
‘Who is this?’ the woman said on the other end. When Jane didn't reply, she continued, her tone frosty. ‘Dominique doesn't live here. She never has. I don't know where she is, so I can't take a message.’

‘
Oh. Can I ask who I'm speaking to, please?’

‘
This is Stevie Winfield. Who are you?’

Not knowing what to say, Jane hung up.

‘Well?’ said Polly, who was perched on the end of the sofa.

‘
She said she was Stevie Winfield.’ Jane looked at the number on the paper. It was a London number, but that was all she could really deduce from it. ‘It might not have been the number to his flat. He had hours to cook something up. He could have asked Dominique to pretend to be Stevie …’

Polly made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes.
‘I give up! If you won't help yourself, then there's no point me even trying. You really have to let go of this Ashby thing, Jane. If you don't, you'll end up sabotaging every single relationship you have. Just because Ashby was a rat bag doesn't mean Marsh is, too. Until you get that into your head, you're never going to be happy.’