The Lies We Told(57)

‘How many copies of the key did you make?’

‘There were three, one I dropped off at the letting agent, the other I kept, and the only other one I left at Mac’s. I went to stay with him after the breakin.’

Anderson nodded. ‘I see.’

She stared at him, the fog in her brain slowly clearing. Her throat still felt horribly sore. ‘Whoever broke into Mac’s flat yesterday turned it upside down, they were looking for something. They could have taken my key. It was in my bag in Mac’s spare room.’

‘We’ll look into it,’ Anderson said.

She remembered Emily’s visit to her flat and, her words coming out in a rush, blurted, ‘I think it was Tom.’

He looked up sharply. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘I think it was Tom Lawson, Luke’s brother, who attacked Mac and set fire to my flat.’

Anderson blinked. ‘And what makes you say that?’

Quickly she told him how Tom, who never came to London, had been in the city the first time she’d been broken into, how he’d turned up at hers shortly afterwards. How the day that Mac had been attacked he’d texted to say he’d just been over there, then that same night her flat was set on fire. She didn’t mention the scene she’d walked in on between him and his mother, the strange feeling she’d always got from him, Emily’s palpable fear at the mention of his name.

Anderson nodded slowly. ‘And why do you think Mr Lawson would want to hurt you?’

‘I don’t know! I don’t understand any of it!’ A nurse came in and they watched her in silence as she cheerfully took Clara’s blood pressure, and wrote something on her clipboard before leaving again. ‘What about Alison? Is she all right?’ Clara asked.

‘She’ll be fine – minor smoke inhalation. But she was very lucky. You both were.’

And with that he got up to leave, trailing distracted promises he’d be in touch. Clara lay back, her eyes on the window by her bed.

Outside, the sun shone brightly through a fine mist of drizzle. She could almost smell the damp grass and flower beds of the hospital grounds below. Spring suffused the world beyond the airless, seasonless confines of this room and she listened to the sounds of the hospital; the bleeps of the machine next to her bed, the brisk clip-clop of a passing stranger’s shoes, the continuous swish and thump of unseen swing-doors.

She felt utterly, horribly alone – who would visit her, who would even know that she was here? Did her parents know? Would they come? She was surprised how desperately she wanted to see them both. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the waves of anxiety, and when she opened them she found Mac standing at her door, his familiar face triggering such a rush of relief in Clara that she had to choke back a sob. He crossed the room in three quick strides and when he reached her took her hand in his. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard. I had no idea you were here, Anderson told me and I came straight over. I phoned Zoe, she’s on her way too.’ He stared down at her, and she saw that he was close to tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Clara, I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you.’

‘God, it’s so good to see you,’ she told him. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine, and don’t be silly, this is hardly your fault. But what about you? I’ve been so worried, how’s your head?’

He grimaced and turned to show a large shaved area of scalp, the exposed white skin severed by an ugly scar. ‘Attractive, huh?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Jesus. What did the doctors—?’

‘It’s only a scrape,’ he said, waving her concern away. ‘I’m far more worried about you. Anderson said you’re going to be OK, but how do you feel?’

‘I’m so scared, Mac. Who’d want to kill me, or hurt you? Who the fuck is doing this to us?’

He took the seat Anderson had vacated and put his face in his hands, taking a long breath. ‘I wish I knew,’ he said at last. Reaching over, he squeezed her hand. ‘Tell me about the fire. What happened exactly?’

So she described how she’d woken to billowing smoke, the sight of Alison looming over her. ‘Anderson said she saved me, but who on earth started it?’ When he shrugged helplessly she asked, ‘And how about you? Do you have any idea who hit you? Did you see who it was?’

‘No. I was standing in the kitchen with my back to the door. It all happened so quickly. I had music playing, the kettle was boiling, whoever it was crept up behind me …’ Tiredly he ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I’ve been back to my flat, it’s a right state.’

She leaned forward. ‘Was anything missing? I think whoever it was must have taken the key to my flat, that’s how they got in. It was in my bag in your spare room. Did it look like someone had been through it?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Everything was a complete mess, but I’ll check when I get back.’

‘And nothing of yours was taken?’

‘My Leica’s missing – you know the one I take everywhere with me? Why, out of all the expensive kit I’ve got in my flat, they’d only take that, I’ve no idea.’

She hesitated. ‘Look, this is going to sound crazy, but I think it’s Tom. I think Tom did all this.’