Too Close For Comfort (39 page)

‘And you did your best to help him,’ I said, looking into her eyes. ‘What happened to him – it’s not your fault.’

She gave a frustrated shrug. ‘He always wanted someone to love, but the thing was, it was always the wrong person.’

I checked myself. The man she described was troubled: could it be that he sold his sister a version of events that made him whiter than white? I didn’t want to be blinded by a heady
feeling of vindication.

‘I wonder why, if Sarah knew he was telling the truth, she didn’t talk to Ian for him? I didn’t know her well, but she certainly wasn’t mousy.’

Jennifer’s eyes flashed: she was the one person who hated Kimberley more than I did. ‘She might’ve tried. Trust me, it wouldn’t have helped him. Have you seen their new
climbing frame? The Japanese garden? That Farthing bitch knows how to buy her way through life.’

A chill ran through me. Maybe Sarah did. Maybe that’s what got her killed.
I’m sorry too
could mean all kinds of things.

‘Jennifer – do you think they were having an affair?’

Jennifer dropped her eyes, as if she was carrying Peter’s private shames.

‘He wanted it, no question, but she wouldn’t go there. Happy to hang out with him, and call him all hours. But she wasn’t putting out.’

‘Really?’

She was boiling with injustice. ‘They all used him, Mia. He’d have done anything for Sarah. He got really depressed about her. Felt like the one person he’d ever loved, he
couldn’t have.’ She tried and failed to raise a smile. ‘Happiness was never my brother’s speciality.’

Not sexual
, that was what Krall had said,
more loving
.

‘Have you told the police all of this? The guy in charge is Lawrence Kr—’

‘Of course I fucking have,’ snapped Jennifer. ‘They don’t care. They’ve got this letter where he begged Sarah to leave her husband: you’d think it was the
Bible, the way they’re behaving. There’s his DNA on her clothes’ – she made angry quotation marks in the air – ‘a history of inappropriate behaviour. Oh and you
can’t call back WhatsApp messages apparently, only texts. I bet she knew that.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘And he’s dead!’ She was almost shouting now, tears threatening again. ‘No one cares that much about a dead man’s reputation. We care – we’ve had our
lives destroyed – but once the headlines stop, everyone else gets to move on.’ She looked at me, face naked and vulnerable. ‘We don’t. I can’t move on if it means
leaving my brother behind.’

Jennifer started to sob, head dropped over her forearms, her broad shoulders heaving.

‘I could talk to Lawrence Krall . . .’ I said, aware as the words left my mouth how useless they were. Even if he still cared what I thought, he was already enthralled
by the next chapter, had no desire to turn the pages backwards. Jennifer’s head, still bowed, shook a vigorous no.

‘People like her get to decide about people like me,’ she said, her voice muffled.

‘What, Kimberley?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, jerking her head up, eyes blazing amidst the watery remains of her make-up. ‘I had this stupid fairy tale that you knew what had happened. That you knew who
really did it, so they wouldn’t pin it on Peter. Cos trust me, no one wants to listen to his sister. Let alone his sister who works in Tesco.’

Something stirred in me then, something primal and dangerous. The problem was, at that moment it felt like I had nothing left to lose. I did believe her – I’d always believed, with
an illogical conviction, in Peter’s innocence. And if he hadn’t done it, then someone else had.

‘Just here is fine. Perfect, in fact.’

The cab driver stared into his rear-view mirror, his lined and baggy eyes alight with suspicion.

‘D’you want me to ring the buzzer? Normally do when people get dropped here.’

We both looked towards the fortress that was the Farthing residence. In my feverish state, the gates seemed higher and spikier than ever. I knew this whole mission was insane, and yet somehow I
couldn’t stop.

‘No, I’m all good.’

He peered at me a second longer before he finally caved. ‘I’ll get your bags out.’

Then I was stranded on the verge outside Kimberley’s house, the wheels of my suitcase sinking into the muddy grass. I pulled its dead weight towards the intercom, gave the cab driver a
determined wave. Hopefully he couldn’t see my hand shaking as I pretended to push the buzzer.

I needed a minute more. I took some deep breaths, composed myself, but before I could buzz, the screen of the intercom lit up. Kimberley was framed in the square, hair swept up into a high
ponytail that accentuated the sharp triangle of her cheekbones, skin bare and luminous.

‘Mia? Is that you? What a treat!’

She was already taking control of the situation: this time, I wasn’t going to let it happen.

‘I thought I’d drop by before I went back.’

‘Come in, come in,’ she said, a jarring buzz coming out of the shiny intercom.

I couldn’t dawdle, couldn’t give myself any more time to think, I strode up the sweeping drive, yanking my heavy suitcase behind me. I squared my shoulders as I languished outside
the closed front door: she’d obviously decided to reverse her strategy and make me wait. Finally it swung open, her face also opening up into a broad and empty smile. She leaned in, gave me a
staccato kiss on each cheek. She was dressed in expensive-looking yoga gear, the teal fabric so tight against her skinny body I could almost count her ribs.

‘What a surprise!’ she said. ‘You really are in transit. Just dump the luggage here.’

‘Thanks.’

‘So, Mia, you’ve been a naughty girl!’ she said, heading towards the kitchen, the words flung over a bony shoulder.

The cavernous kitchen was spotless.

‘What, the press story? No – no I actually haven’t. She cobbled together a few throwaway remarks and made it sound like an interview.’

She grabbed two tall glasses, stuck them under the noisy ice-maker.

‘You live and learn. Obviously with Nigel’s job, I’ve had to become a professional at dealing with the gutter press. You won’t be doing that again in a hurry!’

She thrust a glass towards me, a look of amused pity on her face.

‘Yes,’ I said, reaching for it, ‘I’ve noticed how skilled you are at controlling your public image. It’s quite a talent.’

‘I wish they hadn’t used those photos from the other night . . .’ she said, blue eyes trained on me, waiting for a reaction. ‘Have you recovered
yet?’

‘From which part of it, Kimberley? Seeing that my best friend has a serious drug habit? From my continued knowledge that there are secrets being guarded which are torturing her and making
her problems even worse?’

Kimberley paused a second, keeping her face deliberately blank. Cut-price injectables were certainly an advantage in this scenario.

‘I was wondering more about that little incident in Priory Quad. Jake said it was a quite a scene in the end. I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back to London and start patching
things up with, with – Pat? I think we’re all just concerned to protect poor Rowena.’

The shame still tasted bitter and metallic. ‘Nothing happened, Kimberley.’ I felt myself flush, hated it. ‘It was actually nothing.’

Kimberley took a mouthful of ice cold water, gazed at me.

‘We’re all used to a country pace of life, I’m afraid. Our “nothings” don’t involve front-page exclusives and adultery.’

‘I’d hardly call a two-second kiss adultery!’ Kimberley’s sense of triumph was tangible. ‘And as for your country pace of life – as far as I know,
you’re not all that opposed to a spot of adultery yourself when the mood takes you.’

I’d finally got to her: two high spots of scarlet splashed those angular cheekbones. She gripped the granite counter. ‘I’m sorry?’

I didn’t care now: I was going to lay it all out, and see how she handled it.

‘You weren’t scared of Peter; Peter was scared of you! You were stalking him – not the other way round. And he didn’t have a chance against someone like you.’

‘Where have you got this rubbish from?’ said Kimberley, with a snort of derision. ‘The fact Peter was stalking me is well documented. Me not pressing charges – it was an
act of kindness.’

I ignored her.

‘And as for the drugs – I bet you’ve manipulated that with the police. Pushed the blame onto Sarah and Lysette when they were buying them for the whole lot of you.’

Kimberley gave an affected shudder. ‘Those two, unfortunately, didn’t know where to stop. Where the line was, if you’ll pardon the pun.’

She was clever: the ‘pun’ was designed to convey the idea she was still entirely in control. I was going to have to go to the one place no one was comfortable going to break her
down.

‘Oh yes, and I don’t know the full story with Susan . . .’ I saw something flash in her ice blue eyes, something that was fearful and dangerous all at once,
‘but I know whatever happened with her is something you don’t want getting out. There’s a reason she was rushed back to Romania before anyone could ask her any awkward
questions.’

Kimberley was silent for a few seconds – then she smiled and reached deliberately for my tall, slippery glass.

‘More water?’

‘No.’

She crossed to the fridge, shot a noisy torrent into her own glass. When she spoke, her voice was a sing-song.

‘People tell you stories all day, don’t they, Mia? Ask for your pearls of wisdom. It’s no wonder you’ve been telling your stories to Lawrence Krall, assuming he’ll
think you’re this wise oracle. Unfortunately, even if anyone did care what you thought – and they really don’t – you’re way off the mark. I suggest you trot back to
London with your little wheelie case and put all of this behind you.’

‘Really? I’m completely wrong, am I? You’ve got too much at stake. Too much to lose. Whatever you said to Lysette – whatever lies you told her about me – I know
that it was you who talked to April. That unnamed source saying you were shaken and distressed – consider it named. I know you’re pulling the strings.’ My whole body was shaking,
and not just with anger. I felt frightened too. I was trapped inside her remote, gated house, taking her apart.

‘The sad fact that you seem unable to comprehend is that you’ve destroyed your relationship with your supposed best friend all by yourself.’ She gave me one of her maddening
smiles, but I could see a vein throbbing in her neck. She was feeling the pressure now. ‘It was all about Sarah for Lysette. It had been for a long time. You’re just someone to lend her
cash and listen to her whining. Sarah was the star.’

The first thing that hit me was the poison intended for me, but it didn’t stop there. The venom directed towards Sarah was deadly. It was another chink.

‘I think you hated Sarah. You worship youth, don’t you? You stuff your face full of chemicals, you chase boys half your age. She had all of that for real.’

Kimberley’s beautiful face twisted into something ugly in front of my eyes. When she spoke her voice had lost its careful elocution.

‘Listen to me, you little bitch, this is over. Get out of my house. Don’t come back here. If you do . . .’ Her face was pinched and white. ‘Trust me, Mia,
I can make things very difficult for you. I’m sure they look pretty bleak right now, but know this, they could get a lot worse. What’s the phrase? Friends in high places.’

We stood on either side of her granite counter, our eyes locked.

‘Did you do it, Kimberley? Did you push her off?’

Her eyes flicked away, flicked back.

‘Don’t be so ridiculous. I can’t believe anyone pays good money to listen to your ludicrous fantasies.’

I said it again, more softly this time.

‘Did you?’

Something was pulsing, straining to come out. But before it exploded, we were ambushed. Lysette stormed into the kitchen, every bit as wild and desperate as she’d been at the ball.

‘Just stop it! Stop it, OK?’

Kimberley took a step towards her.

‘I told you to stay upstairs and rest. I’m handling this.’ Her voice was soothing now, almost soporific. That was why she’d taken so long to come to the door – it
was more than a simple power play. ‘You don’t need to worry.’

Lysette thrust her phone at us.

‘The police are looking for me.’ It was only now that I noticed the way her words were slurring. ‘They’ve been to the house. My kids have seen the police on the doorstep
asking for their mum. I’m all over the papers . . .’

‘Lysette . . .’ I said, stepping towards her, but Kimberley had got there first. She snaked a skinny arm around Lysette’s shaking body.

‘Let’s get you back upstairs. I’ll call Lawrence, tell him you’re safe here and we’ll go and talk to him later.’

Lysette flung her arms wide, shook Kimberley off.

‘No! I can’t do this any more. I can’t . . .’

‘She’s right,’ I said. ‘She can’t dodge questioning.’ A nauseous wave of guilt washed over me as I remembered Lawrence’s satisfaction at my refusal to
answer his questions. Kimberley was ignoring me, face full of faux concern for Lysette. ‘None of you can.’

‘I can’t do it,’ Lysette repeated, bleak and hopeless.

‘Do what, Lys?’ I said, forcing eye contact from where I stood. ‘What happened?’

Her face broke apart in front of my eyes.

‘All of it!’ she wailed. She turned to Kimberley, eyes pleading. ‘All of it.’

Kimberley turned on me, furious.

‘I clearly remember asking you to leave my home.’

‘There’s no way I’m leaving her in this state. Especially not with you.’

Lysette half staggered, gripping the counter. This time I moved to her side.

‘Lys, look at me . . .’ She focused on me, but then her gaze slid away. ‘Have you taken something?’ This didn’t seem like coke, it was more like she
was drunk. But no, that wasn’t right either.

‘I’m just so tired!’ she said, pleading. ‘I can’t keep holding on to it.’

‘What do you mean?’ I said. ‘What really happened to Sarah?’

‘No!’

She was so frustrating, so child-like. I shot a look at a glowering Kimberley. What would she do if I kept refusing to leave? Patrick’s warning echoed through my head: how much did she
have to lose? I shivered, my desperation to speak to him reaching a fever pitch.