Too Close For Comfort (43 page)

It was ridiculous how flustered I was. It had been a full three months since we’d seen each other. The truth was, I hadn’t been able to face going back to Little Copping – I
couldn’t help feeling that it had cast a dangerous spell over me, taken too much – and she’d been consumed by the fallout from everything that had gone down there.

I inched slowly forward in the queue, treating us to some kind of complicated gluten-free blondie from the bountiful cake selection when I finally got to the front. I wasn’t even opposed
to gluten: it was more the satisfying sense that I’d never have been able to get it in The Crumpet. I dumped our coffees and cake on the table and sat back down.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ I said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t . . . I just couldn’t. You understand, don’t you?’

Lysette waved a dismissive hand. ‘Jesus, Mia, after everything I put you through? I tell you, by the time the moving van was packed up, I couldn’t wait to see the back of Little
Copping either.’

‘How is it where you are?’ I asked. We’d barely spoken on the phone – most of our contact had been texts or emails. It meant I’d had headlines more than anything.
‘Can you imagine it feeling like home?’

‘Well, obviously we didn’t have a choice,’ she said. Her face began to crumple. ‘I just feel so bad for what I’ve put them all through. It’s a
miracle . . .’ Her voice was shaking now. ‘Ged’s a saint.’

‘Um,’ I stuck up my hand, trying to lighten the mood, ‘so’s Patrick.’

The fact she smiled, knew I wasn’t trivialising what she’d been through, made warmth spread right through my body. We were still us. We wouldn’t have to start again.

‘Saint Patrick O’Leary,’ she said, ‘sounds good.’ She paused, eyes full of sadness. ‘I put them through all of that, and now they’ve had to move halfway
across the country.’

‘You need to be safe.’

‘They might never have come after me, and it’s not like we’ve got witness protection anyway, but even if the police hadn’t pushed for it, I couldn’t have stayed
there. I couldn’t be running into Kimberley in The Crumpet.’ Lysette feigned a twee wave. ‘Oh, how are you? No thanks!’

‘She’s a . . .’ I restrained myself. Just. ‘She’s a total C word.’

‘You called it, Mia.’ She put her hand over mine. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.’ She paused. ‘Maybe I didn’t want to hear it.’

‘What do you mean?’

Her face was full of emotion. ‘I felt like you’d hate me if you knew about it all.’

‘I could never hate you!’

She put a hand up to silence me.

‘It’s just – I felt like I’d done so much shit you’d NEVER do. And you’re the person who knows me better than anyone. You knew me when I had spots, and those
suede cowboy boots with the nasty gold studs up the side. You’re like – my conscience.’

My words were lumpy and choked. ‘I don’t want to be your conscience. I’m not – I’m so not qualified for that. I only ever want to be
your . . .’ I paused again, ashamed of my own childishness. I had to say it. ‘Your best friend.’

‘You’re not really that,’ she said, and my heart plummeted downwards. ‘You’re more than that. You’re in my bones. You’re my sister, really.’ She
smiled a smile that told me she understood how it had felt. ‘It was different with Sarah. It was more like an affair.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I did love her . . .’

Lysette’s eyes filled with tears, her jaw clenching tightly to keep them at bay. She took a darting look round the crowded café, not wanting to make a fool of herself. ‘You
know, the thing is, I’m convinced she never did shag Peter. She didn’t want Joshua to be right about her, or any of the other people who were judging her. I watched that footage again,
from the day it . . .’ She took a breath in. ‘She’s cuddling into him, it’s not like – “I need to rip your clothes off”. I bet she was still
putting him off. He made her feel safe. She really struggled to feel safe.’

‘And Joshua looked safe from the outside, but the way he treated her meant he was the absolute opposite.’

Lysette’s eyes narrowed at the thought of him. ‘I think she did mad things to stay on top. That gave her a funny kind of safety. But I wish she’d told me what she was covering
up by acting that way. I should never have got involved with the . . .’ Her eyes darted around again. ‘You know.’

‘You made a mistake.’ I covered her hand with my own. ‘You really can forgive yourself for it now.’

I could see in her face it was a big ask. It would’ve been for me, too.

‘I knew she didn’t like Lisa, but I had no idea it was such an obsession.’ Her eyes were full of sadness again. ‘I didn’t want you to judge me, and I guess she
didn’t want me to judge her. So stupid.’

‘I wish you had told me.’

‘Me too.’

‘Lys, have you . . .’ I was trying to be delicate. ‘Have you properly stopped?’

She wrinkled up her pretty face.

‘I really have. You were right to tell me to go and talk to someone, and because of taking the pills, they were falling over themselves to find me a counsellor. Me and Ged have been going
to someone together too.’

‘That’s brilliant. It’s a really brave thing to do.’

She gave a half-shrug. ‘We needed to do something. I hadn’t been in a good place for a long time, and I was stupid to think it wasn’t damaging us.’

‘I’m sorry that I didn’t
notice
! You say I’m your conscience but maybe . . . maybe I wanted you to be my picture-perfect family.
Didn’t want to see the cracks. Maybe I made it hard for you to tell me? I want you to be able to be honest.’

‘Same same,’ said Lysette, sounding so young suddenly. ‘Saffron’s beside herself I’m seeing you without her.’

The thought of her chubby face, her bee-faced wellies – I missed her every bit as fiercely as she missed me. ‘How’s it been for her, moving schools? Saying goodbye to
Max?’

The thought of him was still deeply upsetting to me. I didn’t want to say it out loud: I knew how much Lysette would also be worrying about him.

‘They Skype a bit.’ She could see it in my face. ‘He’s doing pretty well, Mia. The shock of it – I think it’s changed Joshua quite a lot. He did find him a
therapist, and the school are looking out for him too.’

‘Do you really think Joshua didn’t know Lisa had done it?’

Lysette shrugged.

‘Didn’t, or didn’t want to. They’re kind of the same thing after a point.’ She smiled. ‘Look at me, all psychologically astute. Might start doing your
job.’

‘You knew something wasn’t right though, didn’t you?’ I paused. ‘Well, you knew that Peter didn’t do it.’

‘I got so confused in the end.’ A wave of grief swept across her face, her eyes going somewhere far away. ‘I was scared – I wanted the truth, but I also wanted it to all
go away.’

‘It’s understandable,’ I said.

‘I always knew she wouldn’t have done that to Max – killed herself, I mean. I wish she’d told me how paranoid she was about Lisa. No – that’s the point. She
wasn’t paranoid. Joshua made her feel like she was.’

‘No one listened to you. Not even me.’ I held her gaze. ‘You are astute. You don’t give yourself enough credit for all the things you’re amazing at.’

‘You’re pretty amazing, the way you got to the bottom of it all.’

I laughed, squeezed her hand.

‘Or I’m a nosy bitch.’

‘Or you’re a nosy bitch AND you’re amazing. Your friend April will be crawling all over the courtroom, I bet.’

I shuddered. I still experienced a strange kind of PTSD when I thought about all of that – trapped in that hamster cage of a room, bickering with Patrick down a tinny phone line, April
lurking on the landing, scavenging for information.

‘It’s still a few months away, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Lysette, ‘March or so. She’s confessed, so it’s only going to be a question of how long she goes down for.’

‘I bet Kimberley hasn’t been to see her once,’ I said.

‘She was
shocked
,’ said Lysette, her impression pitch perfect. ‘She only knew once she’d read the diary and put two and two together. If only
I’d have shared it sooner. Blah blah.’ She looked ashamed. ‘I should’ve done. In fact, I should never have taken it.’

I shook my head.

‘You know, I bet Joshua would’ve found it and got rid of it. Or the police would’ve read it all wrong.’ I paused. ‘You were trying to protect her too.’

She took my hand again.

‘Thanks, conscience.’

‘No, I’m resigning from that job. Don’t even try and recruit me.’ I took a slug of my cold decaf, a bite of the gluten-free monstrosity. ‘It pisses me off, the way
Kimberley’s body swerved all of it when she was right in the middle all along.’

Lysette waved a dismissive hand, then swooped in for the remaining lump of cake.

‘Disgusting! The cake – well, all of it. I can’t think like that, Mia. It’d drive me mad. Thing about Kimberley is, she’s naturally bitter and twisted. She’s
her very own, one-woman prison cell. Helena and Alex have dropped her; I’ve gone. She’ll be scrabbling around for a new coven. Nigel’s never there, and I bet he’s got a
little black book bigger than Bill Clinton’s. Let’s just forget about her.’

I sighed, breath squeezing out of me like a pair of enthusiastically handled bellows. I was expelling all of it, the residue finally leaving my body. Lysette has that simplicity to her nature,
that ability to let go and be in the moment. I’m more of a brooder.

‘You’re right. I don’t want to be your conscience, but can you be my guru?’

Lysette giggled. ‘I do rock an orange robe.’

‘Orange is so in this year.’ I suddenly saw the time. ‘Shit. Patrick’s leaving at six. We’re going somewhere with starchy tablecloths and loads of courses which
could only seat us at toddlers’ suppertime.’

‘Is it his birthday?’

‘No.’ I smiled, relief spreading through me, as it still did every time I thought how close I’d come to destroying things between us. I realised in tandem that neither Lysette
nor I had so much as mentioned Jim. That was an even bigger relief – I didn’t need to devote any more energy to that man. It was only by seeing him again that I’d known how much
he was draining me: a background app with some pointless function you’ll never need, that robs your battery of all the power you need for the real things. ‘We’re just trying to do
a date night every week. They always seem to be a bit random.’

Lysette smiled, pleased for me. ‘Random’s good.’

We hadn’t talked about babies either. That suited me too. Patrick and I had decided not to think too hard about it for the next few months. There was still a certain fragility between us,
a new way of relating that was taking shape.

‘Yeah, it is.’

We weaved our way towards the exit, grabbing our thick winter coats from the hooks by the door. Now it was time to say goodbye, it inevitably felt too soon.

‘Never again,’ said Lysette, giving me a short, fierce hug.

‘Never again,’ I repeated, matching her for fierceness. Then, more quietly, ‘Always.’

‘Always,’ she echoed, the word spoken directly into my ear.

I stepped out of the muggy warmth of the café into a sharp winter’s evening. It was December, and the streets were thronged with desperate shoppers, their eyes
alight with present panic. I took it slowly, felt each footfall hit the pavement, not caring about the jostling or the irritating Christmas songs that blared out of shops or the filthy pigeons that
pecked at overflowing bins.

I was here. Here was home, and I was here.

With thanks to Jo Dickinson for putting up with me for yet another book! It’s been a joy working with you, as always. Thanks too to the rest of the Simon & Schuster
team, particularly Sara-Jade Virtue, Carla Josephson and Emma Capron. Huge thanks also to Sheila Crowley at Curtis Brown and the wider team there. Thanks too to the fabulous Lucinda Prain at
Casarotto.

Thanks also due to Sophia Parsons for a therapist’s perspective (and all-round friendship excellence) and Anne Mensah for being the world’s most overqualified script editor. Thanks
to the Brann/Sutherlands for letting me type all through Christmas on a tiny Canadian island as my deadline loomed. Thanks to Carol Biss for so many things. Thanks to all my lovely colleagues at 42
for being – well – lovely, and for Dan Walker for some excellent notes.

Thanks due too to my lovely family. This is the first book that my beloved grandmother wasn’t the first to read. I miss you every day.

Thanks lastly due to Eugenie Furniss and the Furniss Lawton team.

Eleanor Moran is an executive producer for TV Drama. She’s worked on shows ranging from
Rome
to
Being Human
, as well as
being behind a number of biopics such as
Enid and Shirley
during a long career at the BBC. Eleanor grew up in North London, where she still lives. This is her sixth
novel.

Also by Eleanor Moran

Stick or Twist

Mr Almost Right

Breakfast in Bed

The Last Time I Saw You

A Daughter’s Secret

First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2016

A CBS COMPANY