The One You Love (13 page)

20

‘Still sure you want to do this?’

‘Not really,’ Emma said, as they both examined the terraced home of Stephen’s parents. Moss poked through the grey brickwork in places, and the windows were smeared with a layer of grime. With the colourless house, and the dreary weather, the scene was reminiscent of a washed-out oil painting.

‘They might not live here anymore,’ Lizzy offered.

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Emma said, as she stepped towards the door. It was wooden, with green paint that was flaking as if it was suffering from a bout of eczema. She knocked and they waited. Part of her prayed that Stephen wouldn’t open the door; she didn’t know how she would react. All those sleepless nights he had caused; what if just seeing him sent her spiralling back into the depths of despair? But another part of her wanted to face him down. To look him in those vacant eyes and ask whether he had anything to do with this.

She waited for a few seconds, then knocked again. As she brought her hand away from the door, she noticed that she was shaking. Flakes of green paint had stuck to her fingers.

Still there was no answer.

‘Maybe they’re out,’ she said, more relieved than she was willing to admit, even to herself. Travelling back into the past like this was sending shivers down her spine, and suddenly she wanted to get back in the car and return to her normal life – except she didn’t have a normal life any more, not without Dan. She glanced down the road as an old woman crossed, pulling a shopping trolley.

‘No,’ Lizzy said, ‘someone’s in.’

Emma spun around. ‘Really?’

‘I’ve just seen someone at the top window.’

Emma looked up at the yellowing net curtains, but saw no one. She took a step back from the door, keeping her eyes trained on the window. ‘Did you see who it was? Was it a woman or a man?’

‘A woman.’

His mother
, Emma thought.

‘Mrs Myers?’ she shouted up at the top window. ‘Can you open the door, please?’

Before she had even finished the sentence the door creaked open. The woman who appeared reminded Emma of one of the un-dead from a zombie movie. She was wearing a shabby nightdress and her face hung like it was being pulled down by invisible weights. Emma knew straight away it was Stephen’s mother, even though she had never seen her before. It was the eyes that gave it away – she had Stephen’s vacant yet longing eyes, and the resemblance made Emma shudder. It was like looking at an older, female version of her stalker.

‘Emma?’ said the woman, speaking as though she’d just woken from a deep sleep.

Her eyes burned into Emma. She nodded, taken by surprise. She had always wondered how much Stephen had told his parents about her, but she never once imagined that after all these years his mother would actually recognise her. And that recognition had been instant.

‘It’s so great to see you,’ Mrs Myers said, smiling, revealing stained teeth. She moved off the doorstep and towards Emma. Before she could react, Emma found herself being smothered by a hug. ‘Stephen will be so happy.’

Emma recoiled internally at Mrs Myers’ pungent body odour. She fought the urge to push her away and instead surrendered to her embrace.

***

‘You both take sugar?’ Mrs Myers shouted from the kitchen.

‘None for me, thank you,’ Lizzy replied.

Emma didn’t answer.

‘Or for Emma,’ Lizzy added, noticing that her friend didn’t seem to have heard the question.

Emma looked across at Lizzy, who was sitting in a scruffy single chair on the opposite side of the lounge. The room was unbelievably dark and dingy, the carpet sticky, and damp patches spread across the ceiling. But it was the overpowering smell that made the experience most uncomfortable. Emma couldn’t quite put her finger on what the nauseating stench reminded her of, but it was familiar.

‘Here you go,’ Mrs Myers said, bringing in a tray with three cups of tea and a packet of opened biscuits.

‘Thanks,’ Lizzy said, looking with concern at Emma who appeared to be in deep thought.

‘It’s such a lovely surprise to see you,’ Mrs Myers said, handing Emma a cup of tea. ‘After all this time.’

‘Thanks,’ Emma said.

‘I’ve heard so much about you, and of course I’ve seen you on the television. But to meet you in person is something I’ve wanted to happen for a long time. But you know Stephen, he likes his privacy and I didn’t like to push it with him.’

Emma exchanged concerned glances with Lizzy.

‘You know,’ Mrs Myers continued, looming over Emma, ‘you’re much more beautiful in person. Stephen is such a lucky boy to have a girl like you – beautiful, and a talented actress. I told Stephen, make sure you never let her go – never let her go.’

‘Mrs Myers,’ Emma began, ‘you know Stephen and I never…’

But then she stopped. Maybe this wasn’t the best time to talk about this. She had to keep in mind what she wanted from this visit. To deviate from her aim could be a big mistake. It could ruin everything.

‘We came to see Stephen,’ she said, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘Is he here?’

Mrs Myers looked perplexed.

Emma tried again. ‘Is Stephen here with you?’

‘No,’ said Mrs Myers, her face collapsing with shock, as if she had just received the most devastating news imaginable. ‘I thought he was with you.’

‘He’s not with me, Mrs Myers.’

‘I… I don’t know where he is,’ she said, putting a hand to her mouth and taking a step back, as if struck by an unseen blow.

‘Do you know where he’s been in the last week or so?’ Emma pressed. ‘Has Stephen been to London?’

‘London? He’s never been to that place.’ Her voice hardened into anger. ‘I’ve told him, don’t go to that disgusting place. It’s so horrible and dirty.’ She jabbed a finger at Emma. ‘He would never have gone there. What are you saying, young lady?’

Emma wanted to stand up – she felt exposed, and she didn’t like where this conversation was heading or the way Mrs Myers was behaving. But she decided to stay where she was and try to turn down the heat. ‘I’m not saying anything, Mrs Myers. I just thought you might know where Stephen is.’

‘Well, I don’t. Please, drink your tea, before it gets cold.’

Emma did as requested, trying to hide the grimace when she realised that the milk in the tea was badly off. She watched as Mrs Myers took a sip of her tea and didn’t register any kind of discomfort. She looked across at Lizzy, whose face revealed that she had already tasted the vile drink. Emma tried desperately to think of another avenue of investigation, but struggled to find a way ahead. She wondered how Inspector Gasnier might have approached it.

‘Would you like to see Stephen’s room?’ Mrs Myers said.

Emma gave up drinking her tea. ‘Yes, that would be nice.’

‘Just one minute,’ said Mrs Myers, ‘I need to check something first.’ She exited the lounge and went upstairs.

‘She thinks you’re seeing Stephen,’ Lizzy whispered. ‘She’s not well, is she?’

‘Something’s wrong,’ Emma said, her ears pricking up as she heard Mrs Myers talking to someone upstairs, although it wasn’t loud enough to hear what she was saying. Lizzy heard too, and her face fell.

‘You don’t think –?’

‘Maybe,’ Emma said. ‘But you’re right; she’s not well at all.’

‘You can come up now, girls,’ Mrs Myers shouted. She sounded happy again, and Emma wondered whether she was suffering from some kind of manic-depressive disorder. It would explain the cave-like, gloomy house, the unkempt lounge and kitchen.

‘Come on,’ Emma said to Lizzy as she rose from the sofa. ‘I’ll go first.’

‘I don’t like this,’ Lizzy said.

‘Neither do I. I don’t like any of it.’

‘In here,’ Mrs Myers said, beckoning them towards the room at the far side of the landing. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting – I just wanted to make sure that everything was in order.’

Emma edged across the landing, floorboards creaking under her, past two closed doors. She wondered whether the person who Mrs Myers had been talking to was lurking behind one of them. It could be Mr Myers, or it could be Stephen himself. She kept one eye on Lizzy who was following close behind.

‘Come on in,’ Mrs Myers said, her face bright and welcoming.

Come in to my parlour, said the spider to the fly.

Mrs Myers stepped back and let Emma into the room. The scene took Emma’s breath away. The walls of the bedroom were covered with photographs – overlapping photos, three or four deep. There were so many you could only see the wallpaper behind at the very corners of the room.

‘I knew you’d like the photographs,’ Mrs Myers said, as Emma glanced from one photo to another – they were all of her. It was a scrapbook of four years of her life – photos outside the television studio, in the main streets of Manchester, outside her flat, even through the window of her home, talking to Stuart.

But one photo in particular stood out.

It was a close-up, zoom-lens image of her. She recognised some of the shops in the background – it had been taken just outside Lizzy’s flat.

Stephen Myers had followed her to London.

21

‘Do you think she’s talking to herself?’ Lizzy said, as they sat in the lounge listening to Mrs Myers muttering upstairs.

Emma looked up towards the ceiling. ‘I think so – unless there’s someone up in one of the other rooms.’

‘I think I’d rather believe that she’s talking to herself.’

Emma smiled nervously at Lizzy. ‘Me too.’

‘I couldn’t believe his bedroom,’ Lizzy said. ‘It really gave me the creeps – like something you see in the movies. This whole house gives me the creeps.’

‘I know.’ Emma thought back to Stephen’s room. She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the wall plastered with photos of her, shrine-like. A sinister catalogue of her life, compiled by a delusional man who thought he loved her. And then the revelation contained in that one particular photograph – the photograph that could be the key to finding Dan.

‘It must have been a real shock,’ Lizzy said, ‘seeing them all like that. It’s really freaky. The guy must still be obsessed with you, to have all those things still on the wall after all those years.’

‘Stephen followed me to London.’

‘What? How do you know?’

‘I found this on the wall upstairs.’ Emma handed the photograph to Lizzy.

‘My God, it’s outside my flat.’ Lizzy looked at Emma, her eyes wide. ‘Em, we’ve got to get out of here, now, while we can. What if he comes back while we’re still here? What if he’s actually upstairs now, hiding in one of the other rooms?’

Emma hesitated, fighting the natural inclination to agree with her friend.

‘What? C’mon, Em. What if he comes back? He could do anything, and it’s not like she’s going to stop him.’ Lizzy gestured towards the ceiling. ‘She’s as crazy as he is. Plus nobody knows we’re here; no-one can help us if something bad happens.’

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Emma, pushing aside her fears of what Stephen might or might not do. ‘About what that smell reminds me of.’

‘What?’

‘Every Saturday I used to go to dance classes in the town centre, and I had to walk past a butcher’s on the way from the bus stop. Down the side of the shop was an alley where bits of meat used to drop and the cats and dogs would eat it. The alley used to stink. That’s where I remember the smell. Lizzy, the smell in this house, it smells like rotting meat.’

Lizzy shook her head. ‘You don’t think…?’

Just contemplating the thought was horrifying in itself, but Emma felt sure she had identified the smell – something was rotting in the house. ‘I have to check it out.’

‘But we don’t know where the smell is coming from,’ Lizzy protested. ‘And Mrs Myers will be back down any minute. What if she catches you?’

‘Keep a look out,’ said Emma, standing up and moving towards the kitchen. ‘Let me know as soon as you hear her coming down the stairs.’

‘Em, I don’t like this.’

‘Please.’

‘Okay,’ Lizzy conceded, but she looked less than happy.

Emma investigated the kitchen, but although the smell was stronger there, there was nothing to suggest anything sinister – although the place was a food hygiene disaster area, with sponge-like mould growing in the numerous cups, plates and saucers littered around the room. She wondered whether the cups they had been given also held mould at the bottom. The thought made her feel sick. She opened the cupboards one by one, each time wondering whether something horrible was lurking inside. Most of the cupboards were empty, save for a few cans of food, most past their sell-by date. Just as she was about to return to the lounge, wondering whether the smell was perhaps coming from outside, she saw the door in the corner.

‘Have you found anything?’ Lizzy called quietly from the lounge.