‘You seem sure of that.’
‘I am. You are famous again because of what my brother did to you. You’ve been on every front page of every newspaper and celebrity magazine. People love you. I know you’re not going to risk losing that or your own freedom by admitting to what you did to me and Drew when we were kids, or confessing to Liv’s hit-and-run. We have enough evidence to destroy one another. But what would be the point?’
Anna leans over and refills her glass. I’m tempted to ask for a sip to take the edge off the insanity of this morning. Instead, I move towards the kettle to make another tea. How times have changed. HowIhave changed.
‘You can also think of it like this,’ Anna continues. ‘No matter what happens from here on in, you and I are irrevocably connected. We’ll always have someone in our corner if we’re ever attacked. If one of us is threatened, we will do whatever is necessary to protect the other.’
I hadn’t thought of it like that. She might be right. If I can trust her, could the woman who has made my life hell for so long actually turn out to be my closest ally?
The kettle boils, and for a split second I wonder how much satisfaction I’d get if I poured this scalding hot water over her head. But of course I don’t. I have someone else to think of now. I fill the teapot with fresh mint tea leaves instead and return to the table.
‘This might be a good time to mention that soon it won’t just be the two of us we’ll have an obligation to protect,’ I say.
‘How so?’ she asks.
‘In about four months’ time, there will be three of us. I’m carrying your brother’s baby.’
January
Two Months After Bonfire Night
Chapter 78
Anna
The ground is sticky and wet underfoot. The grip on the soles of my wellies isn’t thick enough to stop me from sliding across the field’s uneven terrain. Drew’s laughter at my expense is irritating me. A low settling fog shrouds where we’re going, while behind me, I can barely see my house.
I lift the sleeve of my coat to my nose as I walk. It’s the first time I’ve worn it since Bonfire Night, but I swear I can still smell charred wood on it despite it twice being dry-cleaned. Perhaps the smell is like the blood I have on my hands: so deeply ingrained that it’ll never come out. I pause when I think I hear someone behind us. I turn, but it’s still just the two of us. Given my current state of mind, it’s no wonder my imagination is playing tricks on me.
‘What about over there?’ Drew suggests.
He’s referring to a clearing over by the mini-industrial estate that’s being built ahead. Roads have been dug, and sewers, waterpipes and cables installed. According to the construction company’s website, it’s ready for the next stage of development. We make our way towards it and he steers me in the direction of a manhole cover.
‘Down there?’ I ask. ‘You think it’ll work?’
‘The detective hasn’t been found yet, has he?’
When he told me weeks earlier that this was the detective’s burial spot, I remember being surprised it was close to home. I’d assumed Drew had driven him miles away. But he’s right, I suppose. I’ve done many bad things, if you want to call them that. But burying a body isn’t one of them.
‘As you well know, I’ve never disposed of anyone,’ I reply. ‘This is a first for me.’
‘Likewise,’ Drew replies. ‘I’ve never been asked for advice on where to bury myself.’
Again, I can’t argue with that either. Because Drew is dead, and has been since the early hours of the morning after Bonfire Night.
I didn’t want to kill my brother, but he left me with no choice. He only has himself to blame. He was on the floor of our kitchen, clutching with one hand the kneecap I broke with a pipe wrench. He used the other to throw me his phone.
‘Check out the iCloud file called “Ioana”,’ he said.
Inside was a file that contained two brief video clips. I let out a short sharp gasp when I recognised myself in the first. It was evening, and I was walking along a London pavement and towards a building. The footage was taken from afar but I’d been in that building so many times I knew it on sight. It was where Ioana lived. In the second clip, I was walking in the opposite direction.
‘The night you pushed Ioana over the balcony, a supermarket CCTV camera on the opposite side of the road filmed you entering and leaving her apartment block,’ Drew explained. ‘You’ll see it’s date- and time-stamped. It proves you were there the night she died. The police don’t know it exists because they had no reason to believe her death was suspicious. Feel free to delete it, but I have copies saved elsewhere.’
‘How . . . ?’
‘All you need to know is that it exists.’
‘Then you must have footage of Margot, too, because I passed her on her way out.’
