The Woman Who Lied(16)
Louise instructs the taxi driver to wait until Emilia is inside. ‘Promise me you’ll report all this to the police tomorrow,’ she says, in an urgent whisper. ‘And get yourself some security cameras. Pronto.’
11
Daisy,
2005
Daisy was nearly eleven when her mother was murdered.
She remembered the night like it was yesterday rather than eight years ago. She’d been in bed asleep when she’d heard a noise from downstairs: the sound of something smashing, a yelp, and then silence. Their house was small, a two-up-two-down terrace overlooking the sea in a quaint Devonshire village near Plymouth, and most sounds were hard to muffle, like her mum’s drunken giggles when she thought Daisy was fast asleep, which meant her boyfriend had turned up. Her mum wasn’t aware that Daisy knew about The Boyfriend because he was only ever invited around when Daisy was in bed. But she’d been aware of the evidence left behind the next morning: an extra wine glass, the doodles he made in the margins of the newspaper that was always abandoned on the arm of the chair, the empty cigarette packet that left a lingering smell of manure mixed with something she couldn’t quite place.
Sometimes she stayed awake on purpose so she could see him leaving, kissing her mother on the doorstep, briefly illuminated by the flickering of the porch light-bulb that needed replacing. He had sandy hair that stuck up slightly at the back in a double crown, and a broad neck that reminded her of the ham joint they’d sometimes have at her dad’s house.
Now, at the grand old age of eighteen, she wondered if all the secrecy surrounding her mum’s relationship was because her boyfriend had been married. Her parents had split up a few years before, so there had been no other reason why her mum had been so cagey.
It went on for months, the secret rendezvous with the mystery man. He came over at least two or three times a week, and she knew that when she spent Friday night and all day Saturday at her dad’s, her mum was making the most of it. Something about it unsettled Daisy, maybe that her mum wasn’t being honest. Not like Dad and his girlfriend, Shannon, who were all over each other, like a rash, in a way that made Daisy smile, secure that her dad was happy.
When she asked her mum about the mystery man she’d bat away her questions, telling her he was just a friend, someone she worked with, which was doubtful to Daisy as her mum cleaned people’s houses while she was at school.
She wished now that she’d been more insistent, more forceful with her mum, made her tell her the truth – tell her his name at any rate.
Because then maybe Daisy could have saved her.
12
The next morning, following Louise’s advice, Emilia contacts her local police station and logs the incidents with a bored-sounding constable. She waits until she’s dropped the kids at school as she doesn’t want to alarm them. Last year, Wilfie went through a spate of night terrors, his screams cutting through the silence of the night, making Emilia sit bolt upright in bed, her heart hammering, sweat clinging to her body. She’d go to his room and lie with him on his top bunk, comforting him until it had subsided. The experience had been frightening but mostly for her, as Wilfie wouldn’t remember much about it the next day. Elliot had said their son had taken after her with his vivid imagination. He seems to have grown out of the terrors, but Emilia lives on a knife’s edge, worrying that any little thing will cause them to come back.
Elliot is nursing a cup of coffee in the kitchen. He’s moved the lilies to the dining table and they fill the room with a sweet, cloying scent. She senses his eyes on her as she paces the length of the kitchen.
‘What did they say?’ he asks, after she ends the call. She stands opposite where he’s sitting at the island.
‘Just to let them know if anything else happens, but they couldn’t have sounded less interested.’ She sighs and lays her mobile on the hard stone surface.
He regards her for a few seconds over the rim of his mug. ‘What worries me is that you and Louise thought you were being followed last night. You didn’t mention that to them?’
She walks around the island, pulls out the stool next to him and sits down. ‘I don’t know if that was just a bit of hysteria because we were talking about it and riling each other up. We were both a bit tipsy.’
He frowns, clearly unconvinced, and pulls up the sleeves of his cable-knit jumper. ‘You’d think she’d know better, being a detective.’ He sounds annoyed.
‘What do you mean?’
‘She should have stayed calm. Maybe confronted the guy.’
‘She wasn’t on duty.’
He shrugs. ‘I thought detectives were always on duty. That’s what my dad used to say.’
She bites back her annoyance. ‘Louise wasn’t there in her role as a detective but as my friend. And we were tipsy, like I said.’
‘I just worry. You and the kids mean everything to me.’
She reaches for his hand and squeezes it in response. ‘Anyway, Louise suggested getting Ringcams. Front and back.’
Elliot withdraws his hand and presses his glasses further onto his nose. ‘I was just thinking that while you were on the phone. I’d feel more comfortable about it, with me being in Iceland next week. I wouldn’t go but it’s an important client. I’ll ask Dad’s advice.’ He downs the rest of his coffee and hops off the stool. He kisses her lips, takes their mugs and puts them into the dishwasher, then heads out to his office.