Page 70 of The Best Friend
‘She’s stolen my career… my husband’s trust… my life. But I still don’t understandwhy. I’ve done nothing to her, and she already had a perfect life before she met me. My career wasn’t anything special. She could’ve picked on a much more successful writer.’
‘I don’t know why,’ Max says. ‘But I couldn’t stand by and let her destroy another innocent person’s life. I had to let you know she’s done this sort of thing before.’
‘I think you’re too late.’ I shake my head. ‘My life’s already a mess. If you’d warned me about Darcy earlier, I could’ve avoided all—’
‘I already told you, I had to be sure of what was going on,’ he says. ‘To start with, I was only following Darcy. It took me a while to realise she was also targetingyou. I still wasn’t completely sure. And, honestly, would you have even believed me, back then? I mean, would you, really?’
‘Probably not,’ I say.
‘Once I saw all those police go into Mike’s place on Friday night, and I saw you get taken off to the station, I knew things must have gotten to a really bad place. I knew I had to come and tell you about what she’d done to me.’
‘You saw all that at Mike’s apartment? You followed me there?’
He nods.
I give a shiver. ‘How does that help me now? I take it no one believed you back then when you said the tax evasion was Darcy’s doing? So why would they listen to you – a convicted criminal – now?’
‘I just thought if we worked together, we might have a chance of stopping her going any further… maybe we could play her at her own game.’
I rest my chin in my hands and think. ‘Will you come and talk to my husband, Jared, about it? Tell him what you told me?’
He doesn’t reply, so I prompt him. ‘Max?’
‘I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ he says. ‘Not straight away. Darcy’s got a restraining order against me. I’m not allowed to go anywhere near her. If we tell your husband and he doesn’t believe us… if he tells Darcy, she’ll make sure they put me back inside, and we won’t be able to catch her out. And if we don’t stop her, you’ll be the next one to end up in jail.’
‘The police let me go,’ I say.
‘For now. But Darcy won’t leave it there. No way. She likes to finish what she starts.’
Max’s words chill me further. Cold dread flooding my body. My teeth have started chattering together and I can no longer feel my fingers. I finally have an ally, someone who believes me. So why do I feel more scared now, than I did before?
Thankfully, when I finally get back to the flat, the others aren’t home yet. I couldn’t deal with all the questions they’d fire at me if they saw the state I’m in. I catch sight of myself in the hall mirror – I look like I’ve been on an SAS assault course. My face is scratched, bruised and smeared with mud, my hair tangled, mud-caked, and infested with leaves and twigs. And as for my soaking clothes… they’re completely ruined. If the stains weren’t enough, the rips will consign them to the bin or the fire. I already left my boots outside – I should have dumped them straight in the recycling.
Bath then bed, I tell myself. My stomach growls. Okay, maybe some food should figure somewhere in the equation. The wall clock in the hall shows that it’s only a few minutes to six. It feels like midnight already.
I head into the kitchen and rummage in the cupboard under the sink, finally finding a roll of black bin bags. I tear one off the roll and take it into the guest bathroom with me, switch on the light and avoid looking in the mirror again. I’ll check myself over once I’m clean. I realise I’m going to have to have a shower before getting in the bath – otherwise I’ll be sitting in a tub of muddy water.
I peel my clothes from my body, finally thawing out, but my entire body throbs. As I remove my jumper and t-shirt, I notice livid bruises have begun to appear on my torso and arms. I dump all my clothes in the bin bag. I’ll wash them later and work out if anything can be salvaged once they’re clean.
Beth’s shower is way better than our one at home. As I step into the cubicle and turn the dial, the spray comes out hot and fast. Too fast. The jets are so powerful, they’re hurting my battered body. I ease back the pressure and let the water cascade over me, wincing as my split, bruised skin is cleaned from head to toe, mud, leaves and pine needles swirling around my feet. I’ll have to unclog the plug hole.
Over the sound of the shower, I hear the front door slam and Megan’s running footsteps. I was lucky. I only just made it back before them.
‘Aunty Lou!’ Megan’s fists bang on the bathroom door.
‘I’m in the shower, Meggy. I’ll be out in a minute!’
‘We had sticky toffee pudding for afters!’ she calls. ‘And I brought you some back. Do you want it now?’
My heart melts at her sweetness. ‘Lovely!’ I shout back. ‘I’ll have some later with a cup of tea.’
‘Sorry, Lou!’ Carys’s voice calls to me from outside the bathroom. And then I hear her chastise Megan. ‘Leave Aunty Louisa. She’s in the shower.’
‘See, I told you,’ Megan replies. ‘Shedoeswant the sticky toffee pudding.’ Their voices fade as they move away from outside the bathroom door.
I’m not sure whether to tell my sister and Carys what happened today. But, I never told anyone about my stalker, and Beth won’t understand why I never mentioned him before. They would want me to tell the police. I can’t afford to tip Darcy off about Max. And I don’t want to get him into trouble either. If Darcy has a restraining order against him, then he could get sent back to prison. I tip my head forward under the spray and work my fingers through the tangled mess that used to be my hair. Sharp twigs have embedded themselves into the curls. I even find a couple of small stones caught up near my scalp. I shudder as a squashed, drowned spider drops from my fingers into the shower tray, and wonder what other hideous creepy crawlies have found their way into my hair.
I’ve arranged to see Max again, tomorrow. We can’t risk being spotted by anyone I know so we’re going to meet back near the cliff-top path. There’s a wooden bench in a clearing off the main track. There shouldn’t be many people up there on a cold, November, Monday morning.
