Never Alone (23 page)

In the end she lets Tess out through the front door into the yard. She disappears into the darkness, slinking around behind the workshop.

‘Don’t be long,’ Sarah mutters, shivering in the doorway despite her thick coat. The snow has piled up against the side of the cottage, the whole yard a beautiful clean bed of white. Their footprints have already disappeared.

Two minutes later Tess scampers back, runs through the hall into the kitchen and shakes the snow from her coat, scattering the tiled floor with snow, which melts quickly into small puddles.

‘Thanks, Tess, just what I needed.’ This is why she goes in and out via the utility room.

Kitty has gone upstairs to have a bath before dinner. Sarah can hear it running. She takes the opportunity to ring George, but there is no answer. It rings and rings for ages. Maybe he has gone to meet Sophie somewhere, to talk things through, and got stranded. She hopes this is the case; maybe they are sheltering in a nice hotel in York.

When she hangs up, it rings immediately.

‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Carpenter? This is DC Foster again; we spoke earlier this evening.’

‘Oh, yes, right.’

‘Just to let you know I’ve had a chat with Mr Brewer.’

‘Oh, okay. How was he?’

‘He seemed surprised, but I think he understood that what he did this morning wasn’t acceptable and I got his agreement that he’s not going to do it again. He wanted to get in touch with you to explain, but I told him he should leave you in peace and that if you wanted to speak to him you’d call him and not the other way round.’

‘That sounds perfect, thanks. I don’t want to – I mean – he’s only a lad, and he’s been through a lot. I do feel sorry for him.’

‘Even so, Mrs Carpenter, he’s a grown man and he’s perfectly capable of sorting himself out, by the sound of things. Don’t let him take advantage of your kindness, if you do get in touch with him again.’

‘No, of course. Thank you.’

‘But if he does turn up, or call you, and you feel uncomfortable about it, do call us again. I’d like to think that this will be an end to it, but you never know. We’re here if you need us, any time, all right?’

‘Thank you,’ Sarah says again, warmly.

She goes upstairs to make sure Kitty has everything she needs. At the top of the stairs she glances down the corridor to the spare room at the end. The door is firmly shut. She knows Will isn’t here, because the police have just spoken to him, but it can’t hurt to check.

She opens the door quickly, before she loses her nerve. The bed is unmade, the duvet neatly folded at the end of it. The radiator has been turned off again – did she do that? – and it’s cold in here, draughts coming from somewhere. The room is at the north end of the house, and the wind and snow are hitting the window with a force that rattles the panes alarmingly.

She shuts the door firmly. Will is not here. She heads down towards her bedroom, then Kitty’s. The door is open
and already it looks lived-in, a pile of dirty clothes on the floor that have spilled from Kitty’s rucksack. The lights are on and Kitty’s laptop is open on the bed, connected to a portable speaker that is blasting out something with a heavy bass.

‘Kitty?’

‘In here!’

The bathroom door opens. Kitty is in her robe; the bath is full and bubbly and smells of Sarah’s favourite hand and body wash.

Sarah sniffs pointedly.

‘You don’t mind, do you? Only I’m really whiffy…’

Sarah laughs as Kitty emerges fully from the bathroom and gives Sarah a big hug.

‘I rang Will,’ she says, into Sarah’s shoulder.

‘What?’ She pulls back to look at Kitty, who raises her chin defiantly.

‘I just called him and told him off a bit,’ she says.

‘Oh, Kitty, I wish you hadn’t…’

‘He’s all right. He just didn’t really get that turning up and letting himself in wasn’t appropriate. He was really sorry. In fact he was snivelling a bit, I think he’d just got off the phone with that policewoman you spoke to.’

Sarah sighs deeply. ‘This is all just getting a bit out of hand. I wish I hadn’t called the police; I overreacted. Now he’s going to bloody hate me, and you too probably.’

‘I said he’s fine. I might meet up with him for a coffee if the snow eases up.’

‘You might not be able to get back to uni if it doesn’t,’ Sarah says.

‘I’ve brought loads of work home with me, and I can log on to the site to keep up with anything I miss. To be honest, it looks as though the snow’s bad there too; the place has probably gone into lockdown.’

‘Well, that’s okay, then,’ Sarah says. ‘Go and have your bath, and then we’ll eat.’

The bathroom door shuts.

Sarah goes downstairs. Tess is in her bed, asleep. Every so often she lets out a little growl.

Sarah wakes up and the room is bright, a diamond-hard white light illuminating the room. She blinks, squints. The curtains are open. She sits on the edge of the bed, listening to the silence of the house. Nothing. Even the wind has dropped to a low whistle.

She stands and goes to the window, looks out. The field behind the house is uniformly white and the clouds are low, low enough that she can’t see the top of the hill.

She pulls on her dressing gown and goes out into the corridor. Kitty’s door is wide open; the room is empty. She goes to the bathroom and turns on the shower, waiting for it to warm up before stepping under the spray.

Afterwards she feels human again, better than she has for a long time. Having Kitty in the house has given her a good night’s sleep, the first she has had in ages. And the thought of having her here for a while, not having to rush back to uni, fills her with joy.

Downstairs, dressed in jeans and a warm jumper, Sarah sets the kettle on to boil. There is a note beside it.

She looks out of the kitchen window at the yard outside, at the vast expanse of snow, the wind blowing the tops of
it like sand, swirling and dancing and drifting against the workshop.

There is a light on in the cottage. Sarah stares for a moment, and then looks at the footprints in the snow.

Her heart thumps madly.

She pulls on her boots, pushes her arms into her coat, misses, swears, fiddles with it until she finds the armholes, rushes out into the yard. The snow is deep now, up to the tops of her boots, but she trudges around the edge of it where it isn’t so bad until she gets to the cottage door.

She doesn’t knock.

She tries the door, and it opens.

‘Hello?’ she says.

The cottage is quiet. She goes inside, stands on the mat and stamps the snow off her boots.

He appears from the kitchen, carrying a tea towel, wiping a mug. His normally wild curls are damp. He smells clean. ‘Hey, Sarah,’ Will says. ‘How’s it going?’

‘What the hell are you doing in here?’

He smiles, as if nothing’s wrong. ‘Aren’t you coming in?’

She walks further into the room, not taking off her boots. She doesn’t care about leaving a trail of snow and mud any more, and she’s not going to wrestle with taking them off and putting them back on again. ‘Will, you need to leave, please.’

‘Ah,’ he says. ‘You didn’t say anything about this place. You told me – or rather, the police told me – that I wasn’t to come into your house, or contact you, any more. Haven’t done either of those things.’

Sarah feels physically sick, her stomach turning over. ‘How did you get in here?’ she asks.

‘Oh, in here? I borrowed your key. I didn’t think you’d mind.’

‘Well, I do mind.’

‘Do you want a cup of coffee? You’ve got a very nice coffee machine here. Nice beans.’

Sarah has to shake her head to try and maintain a sense of reality. ‘Where’s Aiden?’

‘Oh!’ he says, brightly. ‘Aiden! Yes, I’d forgotten about Aiden. The man who fucks other people’s women for money?’

His eyes are wide, the irises like shards of ice, pale blue. This is the first time she has heard him swear.

Sarah doesn’t answer. She is freefalling.

‘He’s not here, is he, Sarah? He’s gone away.’ He makes a strange, flighty gesture with his hands, as though Aiden is a bird that has escaped from a cage.

‘You don’t know anything, Will. I want you to leave. I’ll call the police again, they’ll arrest you this time.’

‘I think they’ll struggle to get a patrol car up here, to be honest,’ he says cheerfully. ‘And if they did happen to have a 4x4 that wasn’t already busy doing other things, I’ll be long gone before they get here. And then you’ll just be wasting their time, won’t you?’

Sarah says nothing.

‘I said, you’ll be wasting their time, won’t you? You’re good at that, Sarah. Wasting people’s time. Giving yourself one minute, backing off the next; teasing people. Aren’t you?’

He is really close now. She closes her eyes slowly, a single tear squeezing out and rolling down her cheek. He is breathing against the side of her forehead, hard and fast. He touches her cheek with one finger. She flinches.

‘I’m not going to hurt you. I won’t hurt you. I don’t know what you think I’m going to do.’

‘Please just go,’ she whispers.

He smiles. No tears, not any more. He’s together, relaxed, certain of himself.

‘I don’t know what you women all see in him, anyway,’ he says. ‘He’s an old man. I mean, I can see he’s good at it. That
thing he does, with his hand on your fanny, watching your face, the way he makes you wait for it –’

‘Shut up! Shut up!’

Now he throws back his head, laughing at her. ‘You’re not going to pretend you didn’t know I was there? What’s that all about, anyway, leaving your curtains open all the time? You love being watched. I can see you do. You loved it at Louis’s party, screwing me out there in the back garden where anyone could find us. You love it. You’re a complete slut; you might as well be selling it like he does.’

He comes close now, pressing his body against hers from behind. He slides his arm around her waist and his hand snakes down across her stomach, between her legs. She grabs for his hand and tries to push it away. She can feel he is hard, pressing into her back, and now she’s afraid.

‘I’d like to watch you again. I liked seeing the expression on your face.’

‘Leave me alone!’

Sarah pushes him back. She turns and makes a run for the door, but he’s quicker than she is, gets there first, blocks her in. He pushes her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her. She turns her head away as he gets close, as if he’s about to kiss her. She’s crying now, tears of shame, fear, panic, falling freely down her cheeks.

‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘shh. It’s fine. I just want to tell you this. You don’t have to be lonely, now he’s gone. I can be with you, I can look after you. Don’t keep pushing me away.’

‘I want you to go,’ she says through gritted teeth.

And he lets her go, quite suddenly, moves away. ‘All right,’ he says. ‘I have things I need to do, in any case. I just wanted to get this out in the open, you know? I’ve been keeping an eye on you, and now Kitty’s here I can watch out for her, too. Okay?’

He reaches across her and opens the door.

‘You go back to the house. I’ll get my coat and go, okay? I’m not going to hang around.’

Sarah looks at the open door, makes a run for it. She slips and slides across the yard back to the house. Behind her, she hears him laughing.

Sarah shuts the front door behind her and takes several shuddering, panicky breaths. She stares at the door, half-expecting him to open it and walk in. She reaches up and tries to put the chain on, but it is fiddly and her fingers are numb, and somehow it won’t fit in its catch.

She pulls her hand back and looks at it in surprise. It is shaking badly. ‘Kitty?’ she calls into the empty house. ‘Are you back? Kitty?’

There is no answer.

She leaves the door, because Kitty is out there somewhere with Tess. She walks to the kitchen, stands at the sink and looks out at the yard, gripping the edge of the worktop.

The sun is shining weakly, but it looks as if the snow might be melting; it is already wet around the edges, nearest to the house, as if the warmth of the walls is penetrating into the freezing air. But then the sun goes behind a dark cloud, and the wind stirs up the soft crystals of snow, like a breath blowing spilt sugar from a table top. It’s strangely beautiful, hypnotic, and for a moment Sarah watches, lost.

Then she looks down at her hands and sees that they are still shaking. She fills the kettle and switches it on, trying to calm herself.

I’m okay. It’s all right.

Sarah rests her head in her hands, takes a deep breath in. Now she is away from him, it feels unreal. He’s not hurt anyone, she tells herself. He’s just a fucked-up kid who doesn’t know what to do with himself, and she’s become the victim of a game he’s playing.

Calm down. It’s all right.

Going into the living room, Sarah turns on the television and switches to the twenty-four-hour news channel while she cleans the grate, for something to do. The news has very little about the weather now; it’s all about Syria, political responses to immigration. Eventually the report wends its way round to the weather. She reaches behind her for the remote control and turns up the volume.

‘… possibility of further snowfalls this afternoon, worsening this evening as the wind picks up again, and it’s likely we could see some drifting on higher ground, particularly on the Moors and heading into Scotland. The wind in particular is strengthening all the time, with gusts of up to seventy or eighty miles an hour in exposed areas, which could be strong enough to bring some trees or power lines down. The Met Office has issued an amber warning for people living in the northeast of England and southern and central Scotland with regard to the wind, and you can keep an eye on the latest information on our website.’

Sarah has never worried about the weather up here before. The house, crumbling though it is, is like a castle, thick-walled and safe; and with the oil tank filled up, the freezer full of food, they can ride out any storm. There isn’t much of a mobile signal here at the best of times, so the only real concern is if they lose the landline. And even then, a hundred metres out towards the lane and the mobile signal is usually good enough for an emergency connection.

She tries the landline; there is a dialling tone, which is comforting. On an impulse, she dials Sophie’s phone again. The mobile goes straight to voicemail.

‘Hi, it’s me – it’s Sarah. Just wanted to speak to you. I know this must have been a bloody nightmare for you. I hope you’re somewhere safe, and you’re okay. Please, please give me a call back?’

After that she tries George. Again, no answer; the phone rings and rings, and, when the voicemail kicks in, Sarah disconnects.

Finally, she tries Aiden.

The number you are calling has not responded. Please try again later.

She goes back to the fireplace, lays the kindling and the logs and lights the fire. It blazes bright, and the feel of it, the smell of the logs and the soot in the chimney, is comforting. When it’s well alight, she leaves it and goes to sort through another load of Kitty’s laundry. There is less of a hurry about this now that it seems Kitty’s staying, but, even so, it needs doing.

The phone rings while Sarah is in the utility room. She rushes back to get it.

‘Hello?’

‘Mrs Carpenter? It’s Kerry from Abbey Vets here.’

‘Hi. How’s Basil? Is he okay?’

‘I’m just calling with an update for you. He’s doing very well at the moment, although he’s still quite wobbly. The blood tests we ran yesterday show some liver function abnormality, which does confirm that he ingested some kind of poison. He’s responding well to treatment, though, so hopefully there should be no long-term damage. We’re not fully open today, there are just a few of us with the hospitalised animals, so I wanted to let you know in case you were concerned that we’d left him on his own.’

‘It’s a nightmare, isn’t it? Are you having to sleep there?’

‘We do have a small camp bed for emergencies, but I and the other nurse both live nearby, so we’re taking it in turns to check on them all.’

‘Thank you. Oh – my daughter Kitty might be calling; she’s just gone for a walk down to the village.’

‘Ah, right. Well, she might find the door locked, but if she rings the bell we’ll let her in.’

‘I’m sure she will. We’ve been so worried about him.’

‘I think if it weren’t for the snow Basil might have been able to come home later today, but given the weather forecast it might be safer to keep him here another night, if you’re in agreement.’

‘Yes. As long as he’s okay. I do really miss him. And my other dog, Tess, does too.’

‘Well, hopefully they’ll be reunited soon. And with a bit of luck he won’t go eating anything else he shouldn’t.’

‘Do you know what it was yet? Is there any way of telling?’

‘No, unfortunately. That’s the trouble with Labradors, though: they eat everything. No common sense where food’s concerned.’

Kerry ends the call. The wind is picking up, Sarah thinks; she looks out of the window and sees that the sun has gone in. She thinks it might be snowing again, but when she looks out properly it’s just the wind drifting the snow around the yard. The clouds overhead are dark and low.

The phone receiver is still in Sarah’s hand. She dials Kitty’s number. It goes straight to voicemail, without even a single ring.

‘Kitty, it’s Mum. Come home now, darling. Please. It’s going to start snowing again. Please come home as soon as you get this. If you need me to pick you up, I’ll come out in the Land Rover, just call me. Love you.’

For a moment Sarah watches the flames, listening to the crackle as the damp logs spit. Then she hears something else – another noise, coming from the back of the house.

Scratching, whining.

Sarah rushes to the front door, opens it and calls out. Tess comes hurtling round the house, pushes past her and inside, barking and racing round in mad, panicked circles.

‘Tess? Where’s Kitty?’

As if the dog can answer her. Tess barks at the door, teeth bared.

‘Kitty!’ Sarah yells, cupping her hands around her mouth. ‘Kitty!’

She leaves the door open and pulls on her weatherproof jacket, runs back to the kitchen for her phone. Just as she reaches for it on the kitchen table, it buzzes with a text message.

Sarah looks at the phone, and for a moment she can’t understand why the message isn’t being displayed. Then she realises it’s a picture.

It takes a long time to load. In the end, Sarah goes outside, where she gets one bar of signal. When the image finally appears, she can’t quite tell what it is; it’s dark, and there is a white shape, which is blurred. She touches the image to enlarge it, and when it finally comes into focus she gasps in shock.