Читать книгу Don’t Turn Around: A heart-stopping gripping domestic suspense - Amanda Brooke, Amanda Brooke - Страница 12

‘Did you get the sour cream?’

‘The what?’ Charlie’s question startles me as I stagger into the apartment after assailing the stairs to the seventh floor.

My jacket hangs off my shoulders and I let it drop to the floor with my bag. The gulp of air I take is spiced with cumin and makes me want to heave.

‘You forgot it, didn’t you?’ he asks as curls of steam rise up from the pan he’s stirring, wrapping around his face so I can’t read his expression.

‘Sorry, it went straight out my head.’

‘Too busy checking Facebook, by any chance?’

‘What?’ I ask, glancing longingly at the bedroom door which is where I’d been heading. I want to change into my pyjamas and crawl beneath the bedcovers until the storm in my head passes, but from the way Charlie tilts his head to one side, I see the clouds are still gathering.

‘I had a message from Jay. He’s asking if he should accept your friend request.’

I curse Jay under my breath as I take a step closer to the bedroom door. I should have known this would happen. The tight group of friends we formed at school might have disbanded, but some of those old loyalties managed to survive. Jay thinks he’s watching Charlie’s back.

‘Is there a reason why we shouldn’t be friends?’ I ask casually.

‘Yes there is, and I quote, “Jay’s an embarrassment and I don’t want any of my friends knowing I associate with morons.”’

I ignore the annoying way he mimics my voice, and keep my head held high. ‘People change.’

‘Last time I said that, you bit my head off,’ he reminds me.

‘That was different, Charlie.’

‘Of course it was. And I’m sure it’s pure coincidence that you’ve decided to contact the one person you know who’s in touch with Lewis again. Correction, two people. I hear Meathead had a similar request.’

The apartment is silent except for the gentle rattle of a bubbling pot. ‘I’m not going to do anything,’ I say at last. ‘I just wanted to know what Lewis was up to so I can stay one step ahead.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t steer yourself onto the same path at all.’

‘He’s the one who came back to Liverpool.’

‘It’s a big city.’

‘But it’s a small world,’ I tell him as my thoughts turn from Lewis to my last call.

‘Don’t get involved,’ Charlie warns. ‘Please, Jen.’

‘Fine!’ I snap before retreating to the bedroom. I shut the door firmly but Charlie opens it again as I’m unbuttoning my shirt.

‘I don’t want you doing something stupid, that’s all.’

‘I’m not going to do anything stupid,’ I reply, my tone abrasive to his soothing words.

Charlie moves closer. ‘You look tired.’

‘I feel it,’ I reply as the last of my strength is carried away with trembling words.

‘Need some help?’ he asks with warmth in his eyes as he takes over undoing my buttons.

My arms drop to my sides. ‘We can live without the sour cream, can’t we?’

‘It’s not a deal breaker.’

His fingers stroke the curve of my breast as he takes hold of my shirt to slip it off my shoulders. When he kisses my neck, he feels my body stiffen and slides his hands to rest comfortably around my back instead.

‘Bad day?’

Rather than answer immediately, I rest my hand on Charlie’s shoulder and step out of my skirt. ‘I feel so helpless sometimes,’ I tell him. ‘We have no way of knowing who’s at the end of the line or what’s going to happen to them once they’ve hung up.’

Charlie sits down on the bed. He’s watching me closely as I begin slipping into my Minnie Mouse pyjamas. ‘A difficult caller?’

‘More like a difficult call,’ I correct him. ‘And I’m still not sure what to think of the caller herself.’

Charlie purses his lips. He knows I can’t talk about the calls we receive so he doesn’t ask. He waits for me to straighten my vest top before pulling me into his arms. I straddle him and cup his face, grateful that I have someone I love and trust.

‘Ruth said something the other day that’s been bugging me,’ I tell him. ‘What happens if we get a call from someone who’s being manipulated the way Meg was?’

‘I thought that was the whole point of the helpline?’

I lower my head until our foreheads touch. ‘It is, but …’ I take a breath. Assuming my leap of faith is correct and Ellie is who I think she is, she could be being abused by Lewis, if not now, then in the future. She asked me not to tell anyone and I won’t, but I can still theorise without breaking that trust. ‘What if one of our calls was from Lewis’s girlfriend?’

Charlie draws back so he can look me in the eye. ‘For a start, I’d say it would be one huge coincidence.’

‘Would it?’ I ask. ‘What if she saw Ruth’s interview? Lewis won’t be the only one who worked out she was talking about him. Why wouldn’t she phone us?’

‘Are you trying to say she has phoned?’

‘No, I’m talking hypothetically,’ I insist. ‘But he does have a girlfriend. I saw a picture of her on Facebook. Did you know?’

‘So that’s what this is about,’ he says with a sigh. ‘Yes, I had heard. Lewis told Jay he met her a few months back when he was buying a present for his sick mum.’

Our eyes lock as he presses the point home. ‘Oh, I see. How stupid of me. Lewis can’t possibly be a threat to women any more because he buys presents for his poorly mum.’

‘I’m not saying that.’

‘Then what are you saying?’ I ask. ‘You think we should turn a blind eye because his mum is sick?’

‘Stop it, Jen. I’m on your side,’ he reminds me.

‘I know,’ I say as I slide off Charlie’s knee and slump down onto the mattress so I can stare at the ceiling instead of his face.

‘All this publicity for the helpline has brought back memories that none of us take pleasure in revisiting,’ Charlie continues. ‘That’s why I didn’t want to add to your worries by telling you Lewis was back home. You’re bound to be paranoid for a while.’

‘Paranoid?’ I could laugh. Actually, no, I could cry. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop myself but the urge intensifies as the mattress dips, rocking me slightly as Charlie lies back too. We’re shoulder to shoulder; two friends trying to make sense of the world and the people in it.

If I try really hard, I can imagine it’s Meg lying next to me. She might not have told me everything but we did talk, and I long to go back to those times in her bedroom when I fretted and she fixed.

‘It’s so lovely and quiet here,’ I’d told her once as we lay sideways across her single bed with our feet dangling over the edge. It was the beginning of summer – our last one before Lewis entered our lives – and we were recharging our batteries after our GCSEs. Unfortunately for me, it had been impossible to find peace at home with one sister back from uni and reclaiming the top bunk in our bedroom, another having practically moved her boyfriend in and the third spending the last months of her pregnancy under Mum’s watchful gaze.

‘It’s too quiet,’ Meg replied.

I’d noticed a certain frostiness between Ruth and Geoff when I’d arrived. Ruth was complaining about the amount of time her husband spent on the golf course and his response had been to pick up his golf clubs and storm out.

‘Is everything OK between Auntie Ruth and Uncle Geoff?’

‘It would be if Mum would stop having a go at Dad all the time. Can’t she see what she’s doing?’ Meg said, letting her arm drop across her face to cover her eyes.

‘You think they’ll get divorced?’ I asked with a gasp as I stared at Meg’s downturned mouth and willed it to stop trembling.

‘They’d have to break up the business if they did that, so no, they’ll just carry on making each other miserable.’

‘As well as you?’

Meg pulled her arm away to stare up at the ceiling. ‘Sean’s so lucky, heading off to uni. I can’t wait till it’s my turn,’ she said.

‘I can’t either. It’ll be the two of us against the world,’ I said, offering her a smile.

Meg didn’t take it. ‘Oh, no,’ she said extending her arm behind her so she could tug at the brightly coloured scarves she kept hanging over her bedpost. Draping crimson silk across her face, she added, ‘You need to find your own way, Jennifer Hunter. We will not be going to the same university. You can’t hide behind me for the rest of your life.’

‘But I don’t want to be on my own.’

She silenced me with her gaze. ‘And right now, neither do I. I’m dreading Sean going.’

‘I could come over more often. Mum probably wouldn’t notice if I never came home at all. Dad definitely wouldn’t.’

Meg let the silk fall and pulled herself up onto her elbow, her eyes alight. ‘In that case, why don’t you move in? Mum wouldn’t mind and I can get around Dad easily.’

Her excitement had been infectious but it wasn’t Meg’s parents who had stood in our way. I never did move in.

When I open my eyes, Meg is gone and it’s Charlie who’s lifted himself up to look at me. His eyes look as scratchy as mine feel.

‘Can you at least find out who Lewis’s girlfriend is?’ I ask. ‘Please, Charlie.’

‘And what exactly do you plan on doing with that information? You can’t contact her, Jen. Please. You don’t know what kind of trouble you might cause.’

I twist onto my side so I can look Charlie in the eye. His frown matches my own. ‘Surely Lewis will be too busy caring for his mum to cause us any more trouble,’ I suggest innocently.

‘Keep away from him, Jen.’

Charlie’s tone makes my cheeks warm with guilt. Dismissing the idea that he might be jealous of the attention I’m giving Lewis, I say, ‘I know he’s dangerous. It’s not like I’ve fallen for the sympathy act.’

‘Neither have I.’

Unconvinced, I add, ‘That’s how men like Lewis get away with what they do. They make you believe they’re nice because they seem vulnerable, or misunderstood, or in need of a second, third or fourth chance.’

‘So being nice is a bad thing?’ says the nicest man I know.

‘No, your kind of nice is good,’ I say, my tone softening as I stroke his cheek.

‘Are you sure about that?’ he asks. His eyes narrow and his words have an edge to them that I’m not expecting. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘But not sure enough to marry me.’

I suppress a groan as I roll onto my back again but I don’t break eye contact. ‘It doesn’t mean I love you any less, Charlie. You’re one of the good ones. I’ve never doubted that, not for a minute.’

Charlie turns his face away from me and gets up without a word. Squeezing my eyes shut, tears burn the back of my closed lids as I listen to him padding across the room.

‘I might nip out and pick up the sour cream,’ he says. ‘When I get back, could we just forget about everyone else for at least one night?’

‘Yeah, that would be good,’ I say. I don’t open my eyes until the door clicks shut, and I don’t move off the bed until I hear Charlie leave the apartment.

Wrapping myself in Charlie’s towelling dressing gown, I return to the living room. I stir the chilli before grabbing my phone and slumping down onto the sofa. I have until Charlie comes back to continue my hunt for Lewis.

Am I being paranoid? A little obsessed perhaps, but isn’t that understandable? Lewis hasn’t simply returned to Liverpool, he’s come back into our lives. The solicitor’s letter might have been a knee-jerk reaction to Ruth’s accusations, but what about Ellie’s call? What if Lewis had been listening in, laughing at me? Ruth was promoting the helpline when she attacked him so it makes sense that it should be his target.

Opening my Facebook app, I see that Jay has refused my friend request and, to my utter humiliation, Meathead has unfriended me too. My sigh of frustration catches in my throat as a new thought strikes. I open a browser and tap in a new search.

Lewis McQueen, the personal trainer, appears on the second page of results with a link to his website. Skimming through the information, I can’t see any mention of the hotel where he works, but it would appear that Lewis offers boot camp sessions in the city centre. Judging by the photo on the bookings page, they take place in Chavasse Park, which is on the upper level of the Liverpool One shopping mall, on the opposite side of the Strand to Mann Island. As I scroll down the page, I find a Twitter feed showing comments and conversations from apparently satisfied customers. Most are women.

From what I read, the six-week courses offer high intensity training and provide Lewis with a legitimate excuse to hurl abuse at women, but I’m looking for something that exposes him for the bully I know him to be. It doesn’t take long to find tweets about him pushing his victims to their limits but none are genuine complaints. He’s actually found a way of turning his cruelty into a business opportunity.

I’ve scrolled past a comment before I realise its importance. There are a few flirtatious comments about one to one workouts, with other boot camp recruits joining in. One mentions that Lewis has a girlfriend. Another replies that it won’t last – she only wants him for his UK citizenship. There follows an argument about the legal status of EU citizens but I’ve found what I needed from this thread. Ellie is his girlfriend.

I’m vaguely aware that the chilli is burning but I can’t take my eyes from my phone as I go back up through the latest tweets. There’s no further mention of Lewis’s girlfriend but one very recent comment catches my attention. A new recruit is begging Lewis to go easy on her when her course starts on Saturday because she’ll be hungover that morning. I check the date of her tweet and realise she’s talking about this weekend.

It would be foolhardy to go there but it’s not like I have to speak to him. Seeing me should be enough to send a message that I can stand up to him. I can’t believe I’m contemplating doing this. It’s not like me. It’s more like Meg and that thought fires me up.

‘See you there,’ I mutter to myself, then hurry to the kitchen to stir the boiling pot that’s been left for far too long.