The Guilty Couple(70)

It’s 6.30 a.m. and, other than a brief doze on the sofa between 3 and 4.30, I’ve barely slept. Smithy’s surgeon rang me at around 1 a.m. Both operations had gone well, she said, and her condition was stable. The news was a bright light after Grace’s text had plunged me into darkness and I burst into tears as the surgeon ended the call.

Watching Smithy’s lifeless body being carried into the ambulance was one of the worst moments of my life. It was my fault she was unconscious and I was terrified she would die. What she did to me, betraying me to Dani, was nothing in comparison. She wouldn’t have been attacked if she hadn’t helped me and I owe her everything. Even if it takes me ten years, I’ll scrimp and save to get her the money I promised her. I told her I’d help her turn her life around and I will.

After Ayesha went to bed I drained the dregs from both our wine glasses but I still couldn’t settle. Sitting made me twitchy and the television irritated me. I considered going for a walk but it was dark and cold and I didn’t know Wood Green well enough to feel safe. I paced the living room instead, walking back and forth over the same stretch of carpet like a caged tiger as I ran over everything that could possibly go wrong with my plan. What if my train to Heathrow was delayed? What if Dominic had changed the flight since Grace took a photo of the tickets? What if they’d already left? The thought made me breathless with panic, then I remembered the text – I’m off to Dubai with Dad tomorrow – and I breathed a little deeper. Dominic didn’t know that Grace had shown me the flight times and I’d made her delete the photo from the Cloud once I’d memorised the details.

Another worrying thought hit me as I marched from the sofa to the window: why would Dominic type I’m off to Dubai with Dad tomorrow and give me the opportunity to look up the flights? He had to suspect that I’d do that and turn up? Or maybe Ayesha was right. He’d sent the text to panic me and make me slip up. My thoughts shuttled between the different possibilities until I was so exhausted that I slumped onto the sofa and fell asleep.

When my alarm woke me at 4.30 a.m. the urge to ring a taxi to Crouch End was unbearable. I was sure Dominic would have locked every window and door the moment he’d discovered my plan but what if Grace had read the text before he took her phone and she’d managed to leave? What if she ended up wandering the streets at 5 a.m., looking for me, afraid and alone? I couldn’t ring her to tell her I wasn’t coming because Dominic had taken her phone. I’d promised Ayesha I wouldn’t go over there but with every minute that passed my chest grew tighter and my breathing shallower. At 4.34 a.m. I rang a taxi. I’d rather be sent to prison than let anything happen to Grace.

All the lights were out at 57 Oakfield Road as we drew up outside. Dominic’s car was parked in the driveway but the street was empty. I made the taxi driver circle around as I scanned every pavement and alleyway for any sign of my daughter but I couldn’t see her anywhere. At 5.40 I told him to bring me back here. Back to Plan B, intercept them at check-in and cause a scene. If they hadn’t already left.

Now, with a cup of hot coffee in my hands, I hear cupboards opening and closing in the bathroom, and the buzz of an electric toothbrush as Ayesha gets ready for work. The emergency that kept her from meeting me for lunch yesterday turned out to be a complaint from a member of staff against one of her male colleagues. The woman alleged that he sexually assaulted her in a lift and, as head of department, Ayesha has to go in for another meeting today. I’ll be going to the airport alone, unless I can convince Nancy or Lee to come with me. I should probably text them now. My phone buzzes as I reach for it, making me jump.

It’s a message from Jack:

I know where the evidence is that Dominic used to frame you.

My hands shake as I tap at the screen: CALL ME NOW.

The bathroom door opens, releasing a sweet, fruity scent that fills the whole flat. A second later Ayesha’s bedroom door clicks shut.

I can’t. Jack’s reply flashes up on the screen. Too dangerous.

But you tried to call me yesterday?

I know, and I nearly gave away my location.

Another message arrives as I’m typing.

I will explain everything when I see you. I promise. Can you get Dom’s key to the lock-up?

Dominic’s motorbike lock-up? Is that where Jack’s been hiding? Or is Dominic keeping him prisoner? Is that why Jack needs the keys, to get out? But why message me now? Why not ask for help the first time he emailed? And, as Ayesha said, why email and then suddenly phone? Something’s not adding up.

I don’t reply immediately, instead I sort through what I know:

• Dom, Jack and Ian were friends at university but pretended not to know each other when I began my affair with Jack.

• Dom changed his name from Matt Platt to Dominic Sutherland after they were imprisoned while Jack went on to commit more crimes.

• Dom and Dani framed me and Jack.

• Jack went missing for over five years, only getting in contact when I came out of prison, and he switched from email to phone, almost at random.

• Someone, who wasn’t Dani, took the evidence from Smithy and pushed her down the stairs. And now Jack knows where that evidence is. The only way he could know that is if he took it, or he knows who did. Could a third person be involved in all of this? Someone I’m not aware of. Someone who—

An image flashes up in my mind, then another, and another and I’m fighting to catch my breath again; only this time it’s not panic that’s making me light-headed. It’s shock. I slip off the sofa and sort through my possessions. I discard clothes and toiletries and make-up, tossing them behind me in my desperation to find the lanyard and keys. Smithy picked them up when we were planning the heist but they’re not here now. She can’t have taken them with her because I took them off her and put them on the coffee table.