Blink(83)

The young woman seems completely unaware of the controversy surrounding Joanne Deacon or the recent newspaper coverage. Harriet can’t believe her luck, the ease of access she’s been given to such a high-profile patient.

How long such access might last is another matter, though, thinks Harriet. She can reasonably expect intervention from a senior member of staff very soon, once they realise the young nurse’s mistake.

She enters the room. It’s quiet, away from the busy drag of the main ward.

Harriet walks over to the bed and hovers above Joanne Deacon’s face. The patient is pasty, marked by red welts left here and there by the respirator’s different positions. Puffy and slightly swollen, her features look different to how Harriet remembers.

‘Remember me?’ Harriet says, staring down at the staring, unmoving eyes.

Joanne Deacon blinks. Twice.

‘They say you’re beginning to recover. Even though you did the most terrible thing, you’re getting better.’

The eyes stare up at her. Harriet glances at the door and looks back down.

‘You lied to me. You made a fool of me. I lost my job and my reputation.’ Harriet picks up a pillow from the chair at the side of the bed. Joanne Deacon blinks again. ‘It’s time to pay for what you did.’

Harriet reaches for the respirator mask and pulls hard.





74





Present Day





Toni





The door at the top of Harriet’s third-floor stairs might be locked but it seems quite flimsy. If I kick hard at it, I might be able to break it down. I’m just about to try that when I hear a noise downstairs. I freeze and listen.

Is Harriet back already?

I hear a banging, then a crashing noise as something is knocked over. I creep back down the stairs and wait on the second-floor landing. I think I hear a whispered voice but I’m not sure. I thought I’d locked the back door behind me . . . but now I can’t remember.

‘Hello, Toni,’ a woman’s voice says clearly. It sounds familiar.

I move to the top of the stairs. My eyes widen. I begin to descend the stairs, unable to process who I’m seeing, how this makes sense.

‘Tara?’

There is a man with her. ‘What are you doing here, I mean . . .’

She looks strong, healthy. Her fair hair is long and dark now. The expression on her face is . . . strange.

‘Come downstairs, Toni,’ she says. ‘We’ve something important to tell you.’

I begin the descent. ‘How did you get in here? How did you know where to find me?’

‘We’ve been watching you,’ says the man, smiling. ‘For weeks.’

I follow them down to the ground floor, too confused to ask anything. When I finally reach the bottom of the stairs, my heart thudding so hard it makes me feel faint, he steamrollers me into the living room and closes the door behind the three of us. He stands, arms folded, blocking my exit.

‘What are you doing?’ I turn to my friend. ‘Tara, what’s happening here?’

‘They’ve found her, Toni. They’ve found Evie.’

I stagger back and hold on to the edge of the rough, worn wing of one of Harriet’s armchairs.

‘They’ve found her?’ I say faintly. ‘Is she . . .’

‘I suppose I should say that we let them find her. I’ve had my fun, but yes, she’s fine. She’s a delightful girl and you don’t deserve her, you never have. She needs a decent family who’ll take care of her.’

I feel dizzy. Sick.

‘I don’t understand . . .’

‘I’ve had Evie, all this time,’ Tara says lightly. ‘We’ve kept her in a little cottage in the remote Highlands. She’s a delight. You neglected her, and you made it so easy for me to take her.’

I rub my forehead, trying to understand. ‘You’ve had Evie all this time? But why?’

Our telephone conversations echo in my mind. All the tears we’d shed together about our husbands, about Evie.

‘Why should you get to make a fresh start in life when it was your husband who killed mine? I lost my baby too, you know.’

‘Yes, I know that, Tara. I’m so sorry for your loss, but—’

‘But nothing. I didn’t hear from you for months and months. God, this place stinks.’

‘I was grieving, just like you! I sent you a card and—’

‘A card? A f*cking card for the loss of my husband and unborn child?’ Her eyes grow wild. The man touches her arm and she takes a deep breath. ‘I got to thinking, how can you get revenge on a dead man who ruined your life?’ She smiles to herself. ‘And the answer came to me. By taking his only child. Phil and I can’t have children so I got to thinking it’s like beautiful poetic justice, almost.’

She has a manic, crazed look about her.

I turn to the man. He’s tall and broad, athletic looking, but his eyes are cold.

‘I worked with Andrew, I was there that night he led us off the cliff.’ He holds up a mangled hand. ‘Some of us challenged his directions, but he was a stubborn bastard, wasn’t having it. Fortunately, I came off fairly unscathed. Apart from losing my career, that is.’