Silent Victim(24)

I winced, instantly recognising her condescending tone, which brought with it a memory of the past. Theresa and I exchanged a glance as unspoken words passed between us. She had noticed the similarity to Mum too. Smiling at Jennifer, I guided her gently to one side while Theresa sat her mother down and distracted her by discussing the big day.

‘I’m going to look a fool,’ Jennifer wept, and I handed her a tissue. Hankies were always in plentiful supply.

I gave her a reassuring smile, the sort that I’d had cause to use many times before. ‘Now listen to me, we have some beautiful high-waisted gowns that will fit like a dream.’ I directed her to a mirror. ‘See how gorgeous you are? You’re going to look stunning, I promise.’

‘Do you think so?’ She sniffed, her tears testing her mascara.

‘Your bump is so neat. You should have seen me when I was pregnant with my son. I was like a hippo. C’mon, follow me.’ I felt a warm glow at the memory of my pregnancy and how thrilled Alex had been.

An hour later and Jennifer had left beaming because she had found a new dress to complement her shape. Even her mother was happy. Glowing with satisfaction, I barely noticed Theresa take a delivery at the door.

‘Look at this,’ Theresa said, sniffing the considerable bouquet. ‘How lovely, although the silly sod forgot to write a card. Are you all right?’ she asked, slowly approaching me. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’

‘I’m fine,’ I said, taking the bouquet from her grasp. The sudden smell of sunflowers filtered up my nostrils, making my stomach churn. It was taking me back to a place I did not want to go. Bringing the flowers out to the back, I dumped them in the sink. Alex was an old romantic, but after last night, sunflowers – any flowers, come to that – were the last thing he would have sent me.

‘How do you know these are for me?’ I turned to Theresa, who was standing right behind me, a curious look on her face.

‘The delivery driver said. Why, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ I said, my voice high-pitched from the effort to camouflage my emotions. ‘I’m just curious. I don’t think these are from Alex.’

Theresa raised an eyebrow. ‘Ooh, lucky you. Perhaps it’s a client.’ She turned away, oblivious to my problems. Closing my eyes, I inhaled a calming breath. My sister had obviously forgotten about the relevance of the sunflowers. Their faces glowered at me, dark and gaping as if ready to swallow me whole. I ran the tap and plunged them into a vase, because I couldn’t bear to bin them, despite everything. Was Luke sending me a warning? My pulse quickened as I thought about what might come.

In the distance, the dull ring of the telephone brought me back to reality. I strode towards it, grasping the old-fashioned Victorian receiver and placing it to my ear. ‘Hello?’ I said, holding my breath, awaiting a response. But there was nothing. Nothing but the heavy sense of dread rising in my chest. Then I heard it: a soft breath on the other side. A sudden wave of fear swept over me. ‘Hello? Can I help you?’ I almost choked on the words.

‘No answer?’ Theresa said, standing behind me. ‘That’s the third one we’ve had today.’

‘Really?’ I said, grateful my back was to her as I hung up the phone. Goosebumps prickled my flesh. I knew that it had begun.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

ALEX





2017


I stood at my office window, absorbing the skyline. From the top of the high-rise building, the view over Leeds was stunning. The company had spared no expense in setting up the new branch of the business. I could not wait to get stuck in: dealing with million-pound properties brought generous commission, bringing me one step closer to our dream life. I inhaled deeply through my nostrils. The air felt better up here. I had my own personal secretary, a pleasant young twenty-something blonde by the name of Alice. Everyone had been welcoming, even seeming relieved to have a new manager take the helm. But at the back of my mind was Emma and the awfulness of what she said she had done. I was still struggling to comprehend it. The uncharacteristic act of violence that she had confessed to consumed my thoughts. I thought of my mother, with her soft permed hair, her homemade scones and jam. She was such a gentle soul; this would break her heart. I drove my hands through my hair, lost in thought as I tried to work it out. This wasn’t a novel or a movie. We were talking about murder. Real-life murder. Carried out by Emma, who had taught Jamie how to feed bees sugar water when they were tired from their flight. Emma, who cried at the end of every Disney movie she had watched. How could she be capable of killing someone? And had he deserved such a fate? How could Emma – my Emma – kill someone, even if what she’d said was true? It was a question I had asked myself numerous times in the last few hours, and I was no nearer to finding an answer.

I closed the door on these thoughts. My focus had to be on my job for now. I rested my hands on the back of my leather swivel chair, staring at my glass-topped desk: it was equipped with all the mod cons, including a new Apple Mac, a far cry from the old PC I had been working on in Essex. Having grown up in Leeds and started off in the real-estate business here, I felt at home and knew many of the staff already.

I stiffened as my intercom buzzed, unaccustomed as I was to the alien sound. The soft, sweet voice of my secretary spoke. I could get used to this.

‘Roger James to see you,’ she said, and I smiled at the luxury of having my visitors announced.