‘The dog. Pretty nasty. It has to be a man.’
‘You don’t think a woman is capable of that?’
‘Yeah, but statistically it’s more likely to be a man.’
Something about Peter’s matter-of-fact tone made Beth uncomfortable.
‘Do you want some lunch?’ she asked.
‘No thanks. Not hungry. So what’s Dad saying about it?’
‘Obviously he’s upset.’
‘You think?’
‘But I’m sure we will sort it out. He’s keeping away more to protect you and Daisy than because of anything I’ve done.’
‘Are we in danger?’
Beth considered lying but thought better of it. Peter wasn’t stupid.
‘I don’t know, Peter. But given what’s been happening, we feel it’s better to be safe than sorry.’
Peter nodded. As he looked towards his mother, then past her out into the hall. He blinked, his eyes widened. He stood up and marched out of the kitchen. Beth followed the direction of his gaze. He stopped next to the coat hook in the hall. Staring at the emerald-green scarf. Beth pretended not to notice.
‘Where did you get this?’
‘What, love?’
‘This scarf. It looks exactly like one that Zoe wears… it’s her mum’s… but she… borrows it sometimes. She likes it cos it matches her eyes.’
Beth was about to make up some lie about it being Margot’s when Peter leaned forward, pulling the scarf to his nose.
He inhaled deeply, eyes closed tight.
‘My God. It is Zoe’s. It smells of her. Why do you have this?’
Peter plucked the scarf from the hook, storming back to Beth’s side.
‘Mum? Why do you have Zoe’s scarf?’
‘I found it when I was tidying up. It was getting crumpled, and it felt expensive. It’s silk! I brought it down to hang it up.’
Peter looked at his mother with narrowed eyes. Beth hoped her face wouldn’t give her away.
‘Are you sure it belongs to Zoe?’ Beth asked nonchalantly.
‘Yep. One hundred per cent.’
‘Could you do me a favour? Can you take this scarf with you and show it to your dad? Tell him where you found it and tell him it’s Zoe’s.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m asking you to. He’ll know why.’
Beth looked away, as red blotches began to spread up her neck. She wanted to tell Peter about Zoe, but how could she? She hadn’t told the police. A decision she was beginning to regret. Charlie had maintained she had imagined it, convinced her they would want proof. And there was none. Just the word of a hysterical drunk lady. Who was on trial for murder when she was a child.
So she kept quiet, knowing that when her son found out the truth, it may destroy her relationship with him forever.
And it was a matter of when, not if.
Beth stroked Peter’s shoulder.
‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift back.’
She watched sadly as he headed out towards the front door, then she followed him to the car.
He would have to find out about Zoe.
But not yet.
47
Beth’s office was situated above an antiques shop among a labyrinth of narrow lanes in Brighton. From outside, you’d be forgiven for thinking it was a small, bohemian type of business. But once you crossed the boundary of the old wooden front door, you were greeted with glass, stainless steel and a gleaming interior. Although the building was narrow, it went back across a few shops, and occupied three floors upwards.
This was precisely the look Chloe Grey had wanted to create when she paid her architect husband a small fortune to remodel the office.
Greys was one of the city’s hidden gems. Beth often felt immensely lucky when she was at work.
She swiped her pass at the front door, and the entry system beeped.
The door didn’t open.
She frowned, swiping it again. Nothing.
She pressed the buzzer.
‘Hello?’ The receptionist’s nasal voice crackled through the intercom.
‘Hi, it’s Beth Carter from submissions. My pass doesn’t seem to be working.’
A long pause, an ominous crackling as Beth waited, unsure what was going on.
‘One moment, please.’
Beth stood fiddling with her hair. She checked her watch and tutted.
‘I’ll buzz you in, if you could come to reception.’
Beth frowned again. The door clicked and she pushed it inwards. She stepped inside the narrow entrance hallway and climbed the spiral staircase to the first floor.
Lola, the young receptionist, sat behind her desk, looking daggers at Beth as she approached. Without saying a word, she picked up her phone and jabbed at the keypad.
‘Yes, she’s here now. Okay, I’ll let her know.’
She placed the receiver back down.
‘Ms Grey will be with you in a moment. Take a seat.’
She nodded towards a sleek, white leather sofa against the far wall. Beth raised her eyebrow, but the receptionist simply looked away, and tapped at her keyboard.
Beth perched on the edge of a cushion, her unease filling her mind like a storm cloud, growing with every second she was forced to wait.
The sound of stilettos clicking on the polished wooden floor drew Beth’s attention down the corridor. Chloe was marching towards her, wearing a bright-red trouser suit, with a white blouse underneath. She didn’t smile. No warm greeting.
‘Beth, come down to my office.’
Beth stood, following Chloe. As she passed the floor-to-ceiling glass panels that separated the main office, she noticed people watching her. She saw Vicky, leaning on the edge of her desk, twiddling with her greasy hair. She smiled, but didn’t wave.
It was definitely not a friendly smile. It was smug. Victorious.
Beth looked away, entering Chloe’s office.
‘Close the door.’ Chloe’s tone was off, terse.
Beth did as she was told. Chloe sat behind her computer. Beth approached the chair on the other side.
‘No, don’t sit. This won’t take long,’ Chloe barked.
‘What’s going on, Chloe? Is everything okay?’ Beth suspected she already knew, but she had to play the game.
‘No, Beth. Or should I call you Kitty? Which would you prefer?’
Beth’s face flushed, but she didn’t look away.
‘You heard then,’ Beth said. A statement rather than a question.
‘Of course I heard. The whole bloody company has heard. Christ, it’s been all over the socials. I’d be surprised if there’s anyone in the country who doesn’t know.’
‘Chloe let me explain–’
‘No. You let me
