Читать книгу The Last Lie: The must-read new thriller from the Sunday Times bestselling author - Alex Lake, Alex Lake - Страница 21

Alfie put his phone down – his Henry Bryant phone – and stared out of the office window.

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

Just before he’d given Claire the bad news, Pippa had sent him a text message – We need to talk – which he’d ignored, as usual. He hadn’t been able to ignore the next one she sent, though, since it contained his name. His real name.

You’ll have to answer this one, Henry, it read. Or should I say, Alfie?

She knew who he was. How, he had no idea, but she knew. And if she knew, then others might. She was right; he had to answer, so he had called her.

Well, well, she said. Nice to hear from you, Henry.

She put a heavy, sarcastic emphasis on the ‘Henry’.

Look, he said. I can explain.

Can you? she replied. I doubt it. Although I suppose you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage and Henry Bryant was your way out?

Yes, he said. I know it’s a cliché but it’s true. And this is true, too – I was falling for you too deeply and I knew that if it carried on I’d be in trouble, which was why I had to end it.

You texted me, she said. You didn’t even have the decency to call.

I knew if I did you’d persuade me. I’m weak, Pippa, when it comes to you. I would have heard your voice and I would have been unable to do it.

She paused and he sensed her soften. He was telling her what she wanted to hear. It was amazing how easily people would believe you when you did that.

Pippa, he said. I knew that if we stayed together I’d eventually have had to choose between you and my marriage, and I’d have chosen you. But that’s impossible. My wife is vindictive. The divorce would have been messy and she’d have made sure I was left with nothing. And that’s not all … she’s violent. There’s no telling what she would have done. So I couldn’t let it come to that.

I’d have helped you, Pippa said. We’d have been OK together.

You couldn’t stop her. No one could.

It wouldn’t have mattered. As long as we had each other, everything else would have been irrelevant.

Oh, Pippa, he said, injecting real longing into his voice. I want to see you. Can we meet? Tonight?

I don’t know, she said. You hurt me.

Now she thought she was in the driving seat, she was playing hard to get, but that was all it was.

Please, he said. I miss you.

I miss you too, she replied, her voice almost a whisper.

Will you meet me? he begged.

Yes. I’ll meet you.

Tonight?

Tonight.

And so they had arranged to meet later. Claire would be expecting him home, but he’d have to come up with some reason he’d stayed out later. For now, Pippa was the priority. He had no idea what he was going to do, but he knew he had to find out how she knew, who else she had told, and then he could start to figure out how to fix this.

He took his car from the office car park and drove to Barnes, where they had arranged to meet in a pub. They hugged and he was struck by how, even at an emotional reunion, there was a limpness and passivity in the way she embraced him. A shudder of disgust ran through him.

They ordered two glasses of wine and sat at a corner table.

‘So,’ he said. ‘It’s great to see you. How’ve you been?’

She looked at him, her eyes wide, almost fearful. ‘Not good,’ she said. ‘I was going a bit crazy.’

‘Me too. But I’m here now.’

‘And you’re not Henry Bryant,’ she said. ‘You lied to me.’

‘Only about that. Not about how I felt about you.’

‘How do I know that? It’s going to be hard for me to trust you again.’

Going to be, he noted. In her mind, they were already back together.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Truly I am. And not that it matters now, but how did you find out?’

She smiled a sly smile. ‘A friend.’

Shit. So someone else knew. This was getting worse. ‘Which friend?’

‘Jodie.’

He froze. If Jodie knew then it was only a matter of time before she told Claire. They were best friends. He was surprised she hadn’t called already. ‘How did she find out?’ he asked.

‘She didn’t. Not exactly.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘She was showing me some photos on her phone, and one came up of her with you. And your wife. Who I’ve met, by the way, a while ago. There was another photo of you singing a song. A romantic one, I assume. Of course, I was more than a little surprised to see you, so I asked who you were and she told me. Alfie Daniels, husband of the lovely Claire.’

‘She isn’t so lovely.’ He shook his head. ‘And it wasn’t a romantic song.’ There was an important piece of information he needed. The most important piece. ‘You told Jodie about us?’

Pippa shook her head. ‘No. I wanted to speak to you first.’

Alfie fought to stop himself shouting in relief. ‘Did you tell anyone?’

‘No. Like I said, I wanted to give you a chance to tell me your side of the story.’

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That’s very fair. And it’s one of the reasons … it’s one of the reasons I love you.’

She blinked. There they were, the three little words that made all the difference.

I.Love.You.

‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘I love you too, Alfie Daniels.’

Hearing her words also made all the difference to Alfie, but not the ‘I love you’. It was hearing his name.

It reminded him that she knew who he was, and that she held his fate in her hands as a result. And it made everything clear to him. He knew exactly what he had to do.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘I have my car. We can book into a hotel. I can’t wait any longer.’ He took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. ‘And then I’m going to tell Claire it’s over. Tonight.’

She blinked rapidly, her lips pressed together. ‘Do you promise?’ she said.

Alfie nodded. ‘I promise.’

He told Pippa there was a hotel he had in mind in Tunbridge Wells, a hotel that was special to him and that, although it was a long drive, was worth it for what was, after all, a special occasion. He had no intention of going to a hotel there, but it sounded good. It was the kind of place where girls like Pippa imagined illicit assignations took place. He switched off his iPhone; he had a plan for what he would tell Claire later and it involved her being unable to get in touch with him.

As they approached Tunbridge Wells he turned on to a B road heading east. Pippa glanced at him.

‘Is this the right way?’ she said.

‘Yep. It’s a quiet little place. It’s in the countryside. Hardly anyone knows about it.’

Which was all true. Hardly anyone did know about their destination. The only thing he had failed to mention was that it wasn’t a hotel.

Ten minutes later he pulled into layby. It was on the edge of a dense forest. He switched off the engine, then put his hand on her knee. Her jeans were soft and expensive. He ran his hand up to her crotch.

‘Alfie,’ Pippa said. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m getting desperate,’ he said. ‘I can’t wait any longer. I want you. Now.’

‘How far is the hotel?’

‘Not far. But I thought’ – he turned and placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled her towards him – ‘we could get started early.’

She twisted in her seat and kissed him. As she did, he put his hands on her cheeks and held her face. She gave a slight moan and, for a second, he hesitated.

Then he slid his hands down her face and around her neck, and began to squeeze.

‘Alfie,’ she gasped. ‘What are you doing?’

He squeezed harder, and she squealed as the pressure increased and her windpipe began to narrow.

‘You silly little girl,’ he muttered. ‘Did you really think I was in love with you? Then you’re more stupid than I thought. But that’s good for me, because it made this easy.’

He looked at her. Her eyes were beginning to bulge in their sockets. Strangely, he felt nothing. Just a deep calm. He pressed harder, felt the flesh yield.

‘I couldn’t have you wandering around knowing that Henry Bryant and Alfie Daniels are one and the same,’ he said. ‘You understand that, right?’

In her eyes he saw that she knew she was going to die. She grabbed his wrists and tried to pull them away. She was surprisingly strong. He supposed she was desperate.

He focused on putting as much pressure on her throat as he could. Gradually, her attempts to pull away his hands grew weaker – he had some scratches which would need some explanation – until they stopped entirely. Slowly, he relaxed his grip, ready to tighten it at the slightest sign of movement.

There was nothing. He examined her face. She was wide-eyed, her mouth slack and open.

She was, without question, dead.

And Alfie felt great.