He frowned. ‘You think I…? No, Cleo, I know I’ve got things wrong, but I’d never harm a hair on her head. She’s my daughter, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Stuart will never forgive you, you know that, don’t you? He adores Immy. When he finds out you’re her dad, he’ll… he’ll…’ I left the sentence unfinished because I wasn’t sure what Stuart would do any more.
‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth and a daughter for a wife,’ Bill chanted in a singsong voice. ‘Serves him bloody well right.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Your husband and my dear wife are fucking, Cleo darling. At it like rabbits, they are.’ He squinted at me and drew back in surprise. ‘You knew?’
‘Only since Tuesday.’
‘Stu told you?’
‘I saw them together. How long have you known?’
Bill closed his eyes and nodded to himself. ‘Since Corfu.’ He cleared his throat. ‘That night.’
‘Oh,’ I said, grasping the significance. Had Bill stumbled upon them and then forced himself on our au pair as some sort of sick revenge?
‘They’re welcome to each other,’ Bill said. He tipped the bottle in my direction. ‘We were only ever their sloppy seconds.’ Downing the last of the vodka, he dropped the bottle onto the ground. I watched as it rolled towards the back of the Elan. Suddenly I noticed a thick black hose attached to the exhaust of the car with parcel tape. The hose snaked around the far side of the car and through a gap at the top of the passenger door window. The rest of the gap was plugged with oily rags.
Bill followed my gaze and said idly, ‘Here’s an interesting fact. Committing suicide by carbon monoxide poisoning was much easier in the days before emission tests on cars. Luckily, I have an old car so it’s not an issue. But it’s a good job I didn’t buy a soft-top, eh?’ He laughed and made to stand, and I pulled him back down.
‘No, Bill, you can’t. I know things seem bad, but you can’t do that to yourself. I won’t let you.’ My voice caught as I stared at my friend. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were bloodshot, but there was a manic, almost fanatical gleam to them. ‘I can sort everything out.’
He slapped his thigh and laughed as if I’d said something wildly funny. ‘Oh Cleo,’ he said, wiping his eyes. ‘You’re a case. You can’t solve every problem. I’m afraid this time you’ve met your match.’
He staggered to his feet and lurched towards the Elan, pulling the keys from his pocket and dangling them from his index finger. ‘Goodbye, Cleo. I’ve left a note on top of the toolbox.’
‘No, Bill, I won’t let you!’ I jumped up and began tearing at the rags plugging the gap at the top of the passenger door window. The sound of the driver’s door slamming shut and the Elan’s throaty engine bursting into life spurred me on, and I yanked the end of the hose from the car. It slithered from my grip, landing on the concrete floor by my feet.
A cloud of black exhaust fumes filled my lungs, making me cough so violently I doubled over. ‘Turn off the engine!’ I shrieked, banging on the rear windscreen. For a split second Bill’s eyes met mine in his rearview mirror and he mouthed, ‘Sorry’. Then he floored the throttle, and the Elan plunged forwards, the engine screaming. I stood helplessly as the car crashed through the wooden double doors and disappeared.
Still fighting for breath, I ran outside and watched the Elan as it careered towards the gates to the lane. I was paralysed by indecision. Should I phone Stuart to warn him what had happened, or run back for my car and follow Bill? I’d pulled out my phone and was staring blankly at the screen when a loud explosion ripped through the air. I looked up, trying to ignore the swooping sensation in my stomach, but my worst fears were confirmed. The Elan had crashed into one of the leylandii trees that bordered the old nursery. The back of the car was a mangled mess of fibreglass and metal, and the bonnet had concertinaed against the trunk of the tree like the bellows of an accordion.
‘Bill!’ I yelled, forcing my legs into a run, stumbling and slipping on the rough surface as if I was the one who’d drunk a bottle of vodka, not Bill. I reached the car and gazed inside. Bill’s head rested on the steering wheel and a trickle of blood dripped from his temple down his stubbly cheek. I yanked on the door handle, but it was stuck fast.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and looked around, spying a brick half-hidden in the grass. Raising it high above my head, I brought it down with as much force as I could, shattering the driver’s side window and spraying Bill with shards of glass. Reaching in, I turned off the engine then felt his neck for a pulse, willing his skin to flicker beneath my touch. But there was nothing. I tipped his head back as gently as I could, only to see his eyes staring glassily ahead. I sank to the ground and found Stuart’s number.
‘Any luck?’ he said. A tear rolled down my face, and I cradled the phone to my ear.
‘He’s dead, Stu. You have to get here now. Bill’s dead.’
Chapter Forty
Stuart’s Audi flew through the gates and skidded to a stop yards from the crumpled Lotus. Stuart jumped out of the car, his expression grim. I stepped into his path.
‘Don’t,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing you can do.’
‘Have you called an ambulance?’
‘It’s on its way.’ I glanced at the Audi. The passenger seat was empty. ‘Where’s Melanie?’
‘I’ve left her at theirs.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘That Bill had crashed the car, and I’d phone her the minute I knew how he was.’
‘You didn’t tell her he was…’
‘I couldn’t, not until I knew for sure.’ He ran his hands
