had started to rain, the rising wind throwing handfuls of drops against the windows. To Stephanie, it felt like a film set. It was hard to believe she was living through this disturbing scene for real. Any minute now, Nick was going to burst in with Simon and Jimmy, telling her she’d fallen for a grotesque practical joke.
‘What changed things?’ She sighed. ‘We thought there would be more kids, me and Simon. Giving Jimmy up – I’d squared that with myself on the basis that we’d have kids together. But once we’d been here a few months and nothing was happening, Simon ran a few tests. Turns out that the chemo I had for the breast cancer fried my eggs as well. I’ve got more chance of flying to the moon than I have of conceiving again.’
‘So you wanted Jimmy back. Since you couldn’t make a replacement, you thought you’d just snatch him back.’
She folded her arms across her chest. ‘He is mine, after all, Steph. Not yours.’
‘No, he’s not mine. But he’s not yours either. He’s not a possession. He’s a little boy we both owe a duty of care to. He’s the one both of us should have the honesty and the decency to put first. What’s best for Jimmy, that’s how it should be.’
Scarlett’s old smile was back. The lopsided, charming one that always provoked an answering smile in whoever was the target. This time, the old magic failed. ‘And that’s how it’s going to be from now on. I made a mistake, letting him leave my world. Now I’ve fixed it. He’s going to stop here with me, Stephanie. You just have to accept that.’
The icy certainty in Scarlett’s voice made Stephanie’s skin crawl. The unspoken threat was in her level gaze. This was a woman who had organised two cold and calculated murders already in pursuit of what she wanted. Implicit in her words was the menace of what she would exact from Stephanie if she didn’t simply walk away from a boy who was, after all, not her son. Nobody had to know what had happened here.
Except Nick, of course. Honest, passionate, inconvenient Nick.
As if to bolster up what she hadn’t said, Scarlett added casually, ‘You’ll have to stay the night. The roads round here are bloody awful. Even the locals regularly come off those bends and plunge to their deaths. You and Nick would be taking your lives in your hands if you went off in the dark in the middle of a storm.’
It was, Stephanie thought, like being trapped in a Brothers Grimm tale. Most of which, if she remembered rightly, didn’t have a happy ending. If they stayed the night, would they make it to morning? Would their food be drugged? Would their throats be cut in the night, their bodies fed to whatever wildlife roamed the forest? She was sure there must be wolves, or at least wild boars. And everybody knew that pigs ate anything and everything. Would wild boars be any different?
Or would they be doped up and put in the car, sent crashing down a sheer drop to certain death? Such a terrible tragedy, and all arising from a desperate desire to talk to that nice nanny and that helpful doctor who were closest to the boy who’d been mysteriously kidnapped. Simon had always been so convincing with her, he’d have no trouble with the local police who, she was sure, were understandably close to the local orphanage and its benefactors.
Thus far, Scarlett had always done what was necessary to achieve her goal. She kept it simple, but she kept it ruthless. Letting her believe her plan was working might be the only way to survive this. Stephanie let her eyes drop. ‘OK,’ she said, hoping she sounded defeated. ‘We’ll be gone in the morning.’
‘You think you can convince Nick the Greek to keep his mouth shut about Jimmy? It’s not like we have to tell him about the other stuff, after all.’
Scarlett appeared to accept what Stephanie had said, but Stephanie caught another of those flashes of ice behind her eyes. Scarlett was keeping the peace, that was all. They weren’t safe, her and Nick. Quite the opposite. They were like Damocles, sitting at dinner waiting for the hair suspending the sword above his head to snap. All they could be certain of was that at some point, they would be killed.
Knowing what she knew now, there was no way Scarlett could allow them to leave alive.
10
‘That’s settled, then.’ Scarlett topped up both glasses. This time, Stephanie joined in the celebratory clinking of glasses. ‘You’ve no idea how much I missed you, Steph. The one good thing about not having to keep things hidden from you any more is that you’ll be able to come and visit. There’s even a little outbuilding on the edge of the forest with a wood stove. You could come out here to write, if you wanted to.’ There was nothing to distinguish her cheerful expression from the one Stephanie had grown used to over the years.
‘That might be fun.’ It was beyond bizarre, she thought, desperately trying to come up with a plan that would mean safety for Jimmy and life for her and Nick. Nothing she could think of worked. Whether they went with or without him, they’d never feel safe again. Scarlett was cunning, clever and ruthless, and Simon appeared to be entirely in thrall to her narcissism. Stephanie and Nick would never know the day or the hour. The only thing they could be certain of was that their knowledge was a death warrant where Scarlett was concerned.
But Stephanie had meant what she said about Jimmy being her primary concern. By any measure, putting the child first meant ensuring he didn’t grow up in a household where murder was high on the list of approved solutions to complex problems. They had to walk out of here with Jimmy. She had a feeling that if she said as much, Scarlett would laugh and say, ‘Over my dead body.’
Well, maybe that could be arranged.
Stephanie, who had never done anything more violent than set a mousetrap, let her mind race through the dramatic climaxes of films she’d seen and books she’d read. Scarlett turned away from her and opened the fridge. ‘I’m sure there’s olives and cheese in here, we can have some nibbles while Simon finishes cooking,’ she said. ‘You two must be starving.’
Stephanie knew she’d simply have to act without thinking about it. In one smooth movement, she picked up the knife Simon had been using on the onions and stepped up close behind Scarlett. With her left hand, she grabbed the thick tail of hair, twisting it round her hand and yanking it backwards. Scarlett yelped in shock as her head jerked back, exposing her soft throat to the sharp blade that Stephanie drew from left to right. The knife was so sharp that neither woman felt the impact of the cut.
A sudden gusher of crimson spurted forward, staining the packed contents of the fridge and splattering against the brilliant white interior. Stephanie pushed Scarlett away from her and stepped back. Her former friend crumpled to the floor, blood spreading in a pool from the grinning gash in her throat. Air gurgled in the blood, a gruesome sound Stephanie thought she would hear for ever in her nightmares. Spasms racked Scarlett’s body and her hands twitched and contorted as they tried to reach the wound.
Stephanie threw the knife down. Then she remembered all those TV dramas and picked it up again, taking it to the sink. She grabbed a nearby towel and rubbed the handle clean, then ran it under the hot tap. It would be identifiable as the murder weapon, but it wouldn’t have her fingerprints on it. She did the same with her Prosecco glass. She didn’t think she’d touched anything else, but she kept hold of the towel. She felt like she was outside her body, watching herself do these things but not actually part of them.
She glanced down at her clothes, checking for obvious bloodstains, but saw none. The blood had all spurted forward, leaving her clean. She took a deep breath then turned back to the mess she’d made. The blood wasn’t flowing any more, just seeping. It was amazing how fast someone could bleed out. And how much mess that blood could make.
Stepping carefully to avoid contaminating herself with Scarlett’s blood, Stephanie made it to the door. Using the towel, she opened it and stepped into the cosy hall, carefully shutting the door behind her. Ahead of her, a wide wooden staircase rose to the upper floor and Stephanie climbed carefully, taking her time over each step. She remembered having felt like this on the one occasion she’d smoked dope; her body didn’t seem to be a living thing any longer. It was more like a giant robot suit inside which she was manipulating the controls.
On the upstairs landing, light and noise spilled from a doorway. Stephanie walked unsteadily to the doorway and made herself smile. ‘You look like you’re having fun,’ she said. Jimmy and the two men were putting the
