The Silent Ones: An absolutely gripping psychological thriller(68)

I snatch up my bag and rush to the door, almost colliding with Dana Sewell, who is on her way in.

‘Juliet, are you rushing off? I wondered if you had time for another short therapy session before Maddy’s interview.’

‘I can’t, not right now. Sorry.’ I slide past her and rush down the corridor towards the foyer, my head spinning.

Figures fly through my mind. The thousands of pounds that have already been paid to the overseas suppliers for the Van Dyke order. The clothes we’ve commissioned are specific to their company, brightly coloured with their distinctive logo on pockets and lapels. We’ve no chance of selling them on to other customers if Van Dyke bail.

If the situation can’t be rescued, InsideOut4Kids is finished.

I barrel clumsily towards the main doors. I need air. Space. I need… Tom. Need to tell him everything so that he in turn can find Beth and sort it all out before we lose another minute.

Soon it will be time for Maddy’s interview and I need to bring my focus back to that.

A group of people are standing outside, a little way from the reception area, and I spot DS March among them.

She’s laughing, joking with her colleagues, and I remember with a jolt that this is just her job. She goes home at the end of the day and thinks about things like what to have for dinner, or what to watch on television.

Instead of walking past the group to the small patch of grass with a wooden seat on it, I turn right and stand behind a short row of conifers: judging by the cigarette ends littering the floor, it’s the preferred smokers’ spot. I’ll wait here, shielded from prying eyes, until they’ve gone back inside.

A silver car reversing into a parking space catches my eye, and I realise with a start that it’s Tom.

Relieved that he’s back at last, I step forward out of the shadow of the conifers, ready to rush over to him and blurt out my nightmare hacking discovery. But as the car stops and I glance at the passenger window, my feet root themselves to the spot.

I literally can’t move. Every part of me freezes as my brain struggles to make the necessary connections.

Tom twists around in his seat and I see that his face is distorted with temper. He’s jabbing with his index finger and baring his teeth as he spits out words like they’ll choke him if he doesn’t get rid of them.

My gaze turns back to his passenger, and I stare for a moment, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.

But my eyes aren’t deceiving me. The passenger is Chloe.

My husband and my sister are having what looks remarkably like a lovers’ tiff.





Fifty-Two





I turn on my heel and scuttle back towards the building. My quick movement catches DS March’s eye and she calls out to me.

‘Juliet? Is everything all right?’

I ignore her and keep going, issuing an urgent gesture to the busy receptionist to buzz me through. She frowns at the intrusion to her phone call, but does so anyway.

I pull frantically at the door and it opens just in time for me to bump into Dana again, this time literally. She rubs her shoulder, takes a step back and studies me.

‘Is everything OK, Juliet?’

‘No, it’s not.’ I swallow, stepping forward and letting the door swing shut behind me. ‘Everything is really shit, actually. Sorry, I…’

I inch past her and scurry towards the bathroom at the far end of the corridor.

‘Juliet, wait!’

I hear Dana’s heels clipping on the hardwood floor behind me. I squeeze my eyes shut and steel myself before turning to face her.

‘Sorry, Dana, I just need a minute. I’ve had a bit of a shock. And I’m racking my brains to think how I can help Maddy, but… Is there any way you can help me? Find out who went to Bessie’s house regularly… anything?’

‘I think the police have already looked into that, Juliet.’ Dana pulls a sympathetic face.

‘An old lady has to have some help: a carer or a gardener… Someone must know something. Someone must have seen something,’ I say.

To my horror, the tears begin to flow.

‘Come on. In here.’ She takes my arm gently and steers me into an office on the left. I stiffen, starting to resist, but the relief of having a quiet, private space seems to open my emotional floodgates.

I feel Dana’s firm hands on my shoulders, pressing me into a seat, and I sink heavily into a low comfy chair. I accept the tissue she hands me, allow my handbag to be set aside. I feel like there’s no fight left in me.

Through the tissue I’m holding up to my face, I see a glass of water materialise on the low table. Then Dana’s crossed lower legs appear as she takes a seat opposite.

Someone else with an ordinary, normal life. A life I used to have, that I used to despair of at times, sick of the banality of my routine.

It’s getting embarrassing now. The tears just won’t seem to stop. I’ve been doing so well, swallowing it all down, and now…

‘Let yourself be helped, Juliet,’ Dana says softly. ‘You can let go in this safe space. Just you and me; nobody else knows we’re here.’

She seems to get it so well.

‘I’m in no rush. If you want to, you can just let it all out, in your own time. Nobody will judge you, but if you keep blocking yourself like this, you’re going to make yourself ill. I think you must feel that’s true.’