Читать книгу Pretty Little Things: 2018’s most nail-biting serial killer thriller with an unbelievable twist - T.M.E. Walsh - Страница 18

CHAPTER 8

CHARLOTTE

I feel like I’ve been drugged as I open my eyes and struggle to make sense of where I am. I’m lying in bed, I realise, feeling the soft sheets underneath my palms as I reach out and run my hands back down beside me.

The vague shapes of the room slowly begin to come into focus and I can hear Iain in the en suite.

I try to sit up but I feel so groggy. I only had one beer last night despite being sorely tempted to have more. I try to remember if I took any of Iain’s tablets but really can’t be sure. I lean across Iain’s side of the bed and pull open the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. I see the box, pick it up and check inside.

How many were there before? Iain had slowed right down taking these, so he’d never taken the full course prescribed. I look at the date on the box. They were dispensed five months ago.

A month to the day of the accident.

Maybe I did take one and just can’t remember. I know I would’ve needed it last night, but I don’t want to ask Iain because I don’t know how he’ll react.

I shove the box back in the drawer and roll back to my side of the bed as Iain comes out of the en suite.

‘What time did you get in last night?’ I say, massaging my forehead.

Iain stops getting dressed, one leg half in his jeans. His brow is furrowed.

‘You’re joking?’

‘No.’

‘We had a whole conversation when I got in.’

‘We did?’

Did we? I must’ve been much more exhausted than I realised. After Elle went to her room last night, I watched some TV. I must’ve fallen asleep and then come up to bed at some point, still half asleep. I’ve done that many a time.

Iain continues getting dressed.

‘What time is it?’ I say, reaching for my phone on the bedside table.

‘It’s just after six-thirty.’

I pause. ‘It’s Saturday.’

Iain laughs. ‘You sure you didn’t have more to drink last night?’

I screw my face up, and he sees the confusion.

‘Another marble lost, babe?’

I cock my head to one side, confusion really setting in.

‘It’s Sun-day,’ he says, stressing the word like I’m an idiot.

Of course it’s Sunday. A new thought crosses my mind.

‘Hang on, you’re not supposed to be working today,’ I say, finally noticing he’s in his work clothes.

‘I told you last night, I need to go back to the woman in Pirton.’

Did he? ‘Right. I guess you did.’

He turns to me. He leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. ‘I’ll make you a coffee and bring it up. Sounds like you need it.’ He smiles.

I try to sit up and swing my legs out of bed but he stops me. ‘No, stay here. I’ll bring the coffee up.’

‘I should try and call Ruth.’

He frowns and places his hand on my shoulder, not hard but I know he wants me to stay put.

‘No need to get up right now, it’s still early.’

It feels wrong not to have at least tried to contact her. I reach for my phone.

‘She’s probably resting,’ he says.

‘I should at least text her.’

He smooths my hair back from my face and I instantly jerk my head away. It’s become almost a reflex now, to shy away. I don’t want Iain to see my scar bare, stripped of a layer of makeup.

I risk a glance at Iain. He looks hurt, but it’s brief. He pulls a smile. ‘I’ll bring you your drink and then I’ll give Mike a call and see if Ruth’s up for any visitors.’ He looks down at me. ‘You look tired. Why not have a bit more sleep?’

I remember I’m supposed to be taking Elle shopping. ‘I promised Elle we’d go to MK. You know how busy it gets for parking,’ I say, making the effort to sit up in bed again, and I try to ignore the pain drilling through my head.

‘Which reminds me,’ I say. ‘Elle’s party. I think we should postpone it.’

Iain frowns. ‘Why’s that?’

I’m surprised he even has to ask. ‘Those girls . . .’

It takes a moment for it to dawn on him, what I’m saying, a moment of confusion on his face, then realisation registering in his dark eyes.

‘I don’t know, Char. Elle will be really disappointed, plus she’s invited her friends, and my mum and sister are coming down for the weekend.’ He sighs. ‘It’s all been arranged.’

I stare at him. ‘You’re being insensitive.’

‘Insen . . .’ he says, half-speaking the word. ‘You’ve got to be joking?’

His arms flap at his sides in frustration, but I can’t help that.

‘We’re not cancelling, just pushing the date back.’

He looks at me. ‘What’s going on around us, the villages, it’s not going to go away. Our lives can’t just stop.’

‘Ruth’s and Mike’s have.’

He pauses, lowers his gaze to the floor.

‘What life do they have now? Now Caroline’s . . . gone?’

He answers me after what feels like an age.

‘You and Savannah are going ahead with the fete.’ His raises his eyes to meet mine. ‘Don’t you think that’s insensitive?’

I shake my head. ‘No, that’s different. It’ll raise money, it’s showing support.’ The more I think about this, the more I know I’m doing the right thing. ‘The fete is during the day, there’ll be plenty of adults there. Elle’s party would have a different atmosphere.’