Page 77 of The Best Friend
‘Just a couple more steps,’ she crooned. ‘There. Door’s open. You go in first.’
‘Aren’t we going in the wrong direction?’ he said, turning his head from left to right, trying to make sense of his surroundings. ‘The bathroom’s the other way. Are you sure this is the—’
‘In you go,’ she said brightly, giving him a little nudge.
Arthur took a step. Instead of the bathroom floor, he found nothing beneath his foot. He wobbled but somehow managed to stay upright.
‘Careful, Arthur,’ Nicole said, letting go of his arm. ‘You don’t want to slip.’ With her toe, she nudged the back of his calf – the one that was still on firm ground. His slippered foot shot out from under him and he slipped backwards towards her. ‘Don’t worry, Arthur, I’ve got you,’ she cried, giving his back a light shove so he ended up careering head first down the steep flight of stairs.
‘Arthur!’ she screamed, suppressing a smile. ‘Oh my God, are you okay?’
There was a crunch and a thud, and then silence. The air seemed to thicken for a moment as if holding its breath.
Nicole stared at the crumpled shape of the old man at the bottom of the stairs, admiring her handywork. This would be easy. She’d say that when she arrived Natalie had already left, and she’d found the old man dead in the hallway.
Nicole couldn’t believe that the new girl had left Arthur on his own this morning. What a slacker. And now look what had happened! Natalie – or whatever her name was – was supposed to have stayed with him until Nicole got here. You couldn’t leave these old people on their own – that was how accidents happened. There were rules about that sort of thing. God, that girl was going to get into so much trouble.
Thirty-One
2019
The shock of discovering that Max is actually Darcy’s brother freezes my brain for a moment. I stare open mouthed at her smug expression. My heart is still pounding and my legs are weak, yet I have to get away from them. Max’s arms encircle me. I try squirming free but his grip only tightens. I take a breath and start to scream. His massive hand comes over my mouth, squeezing my cheeks.
‘Make one more sound,’ Darcy says, ‘and I will cut you so bad your son won’t recognise your face.’ She holds the blade up to my nose as I stifle a whimper. Her words take the fight from my body. ‘Understand?’ she says.
I nod, and Max removes his hand from my mouth.
‘Good,’ she says. ‘Now we’ve got that sorted, let’s get back home. It’s arctic out here.’
Max leads me across the beach, back towards the house, both hands clamped around my shoulders. I can barely feel the cold any more. My body and my mind are numb. Defeated. Everything I tried to do was pointless. She had it all planned out. She’s ruined me. But why? Why the hell did she do it? I need to know. I have to find out.
Somewhere during my bid for freedom, I lost my hat, and now my hair whips around my face. Max and Darcy are quiet. There’s just the crash of the waves and the sound of my breath and heartbeats, of our soft footsteps out of time with one another.
‘Just tell me one thing,’ I ask, ‘Is Joe okay?’
‘Of course, he’s okay,’ Darcy says. ‘I told you, he and Ty are at the cinema. Honestly, he’s an eight-year-old child. What kind of person do you think I am?’
I don’t answer.
The white boundary wall of Darcy’s property comes into view, stark against the dark sand, and I instinctively slow down, knowing nothing good will come of going back inside. Max notices my hesitation and grips me tighter, urging me forward. I should fight, yell, try to escape, but Max is big and Darcy still has the knife in her hand. Please, God, don’t let her use it on me. I’m not ready to die. I want to see my son again. I want to see Jared, despite the fact he lost faith in me.
The gate to her garden is still locked. Darcy must have climbed over it, too. Looking at it now, I can’t believe I made it over. Max takes a bunch of keys from his pocket, slots one into the keyhole and unlocks the gate. Darcy walks in first. This is my last chance to try to escape before I’m taken back inside, but Darcy’s threat has chilled my bones and turned my knees to jelly. I’m too scared. I’m no runner. I know they would catch me. Should I at least try?
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Max says softly. ‘You heard her. She’ll make you suffer for it.’
His words do the trick. I step through the opening and onto the icy grass, with Max keeping hold of my elbow. Darcy is already striding back towards the house, knowing we’ll be following close behind. She slides open the bifold doors. Seems I could’ve escaped out that way – too late now. It seems like days since I was in her kitchen, but it can’t have been more than half an hour ago.
‘Let’s go,’ Darcy says, heading to a door just off the kitchen. Max and I follow her into a long, narrow utility room. At the end, she opens another door and presses a light switch illuminating a flight of stairs which leads down into a basement.
I stop at the top, watching Darcy disappear down the narrow steps. Max prods me in the back and I’m forced downwards, our footsteps loud on the wooden treads. At the bottom lies a vast white cube of a room. I glance around the immaculate space. It’s clean down here, but there’s still a musty smell of damp. Of decay.
At one end runs a floor-to-ceiling wine rack stuffed full of bottles. Next to the rack is a wooden table and six dining chairs. At the opposite end of the room, running along the top of the wall a thin strip of window is the only view of the outside world – a partial view of the floodlit driveway. Darcy presses another switch on the wall and, with a faint whirring sound, a Venetian blind drops down from the ceiling to cover the glass.
She nods to her brother, and he manoeuvres me forward while she sets out one of the heavy wooden dining chairs beneath the strip of window. I land heavily on my backside, banging my coccyx, my pulse racing, fingers burning as the circulation returns to my hands. Max pulls my arms behind the back of the chair and ties them with something that digs into my skin. When he’s done, he comes around the front and takes a couple of black zip ties from his pocket. He crouches down and secures one of my ankles to the chair leg, and does the same with the other, the plastic biting through my jeans.
‘What are you going to do?’ I stare across at Darcy who now sits, legs crossed, on another of the dining chairs. My voice quavers, betraying my fear. If only I were stronger, braver. Max straightens up and stands by my side.
‘Let’s not worry about that right now,’ Darcy replies.
